Stonechild and Rouleau Mysteries 4-Book Bundle. Brenda Chapman

      “I’ll make lunch and will help with the baby while you sleep,” said Pauline, smiling.

      Hunter stepped into the room as Pauline reached the door. “Where’s Max?” she asked, slipping an arm into her coat sleeve.

      “He had to go check on something at work,” said Hunter, glancing past her. “He said he’d call you later, Ger.”

      Geraldine saw the look that passed between her mother and brother and humiliation made her drop her face into the soft down on top of the baby’s head. Their pity was worse than anything Max could do to her. God, what she’d give for a stiff Scotch. Hold the ice. Hold the soda. “Well, I told him that I’d like to sleep so I guess that’s why he decided to go back to work. If the two of you don’t mind, I’m going to rest now that the baby’s asleep.”

      “We’ll see you later, then,” said Hunter. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

      She couldn’t raise her head to look at him. Her neck felt as heavy as a tree bough weighted with snow. “I just want to sleep.”

      She waited for the door to snap closed before she opened her eyes. The baby was blurry and she blinked to clear her vision. “If you’d held off a bit, Amy Rose, you could have been the first born in the new year and made the paper. You could have started your life famous and made your daddy proud. You might have made him stick around if you’d made the six o’clock news.”

      She tried to erase from her mind the disappointment in Max’s eyes when they’d told him he had a daughter; the split second of dislike in his expression when the nurse placed Amy Rose in his arms. She’d watched the mask slip deftly back into place, but knew she hadn’t imagined his reaction. The truth had caught like a fist in her stomach.

      Her husband had no use for a daughter — or for her.

      This was the meaning she’d seen in his eyes and chosen not to believe for so long. She’d been nothing more than a stepping stone for his ambition. Her mother had warned her before the wedding, but she’d stubbornly clung to the belief that he loved her. She’d put her mother’s cynicism down to bitterness and jealousy. The question now was just how far she was prepared to go along with his lie. Could she live with knowing her marriage was a sham?

      “What should I do, Daddy?” she whispered into the softness of her baby’s hair. She ran her fingers across the rosy cheek and kissed her smooth forehead. She reached for the buzzer to bring the nurse. She’d have them keep the baby for the night in the nursery and get some sleep. She was glad now that she’d decided not to breastfeed. It was one thing not to have a drink when she was pregnant but if she had to refrain from alcohol for a year or more of breastfeeding, they may as well book her a room now in the loony bin.

      Susan let the day slip away, grateful that Clinton left after lunch to work from home for a few hours. The doctor was due in mid-afternoon for a final check before releasing her. He’d poked and prodded and then prescribed pain killers to get her through the week. Her hands and feet throbbed when the pills began to wear off, but she’d been assured this was a good thing. It just didn’t feel like a good thing.

      She turned toward the door as it slowly opened. A momentary surge of fear disappeared at the sight of her goddaughter Geraldine in her hospital gown. “Come give me a hug,” she called. “What a surprise to see you up so soon. Is the baby with you?”

      “No, she’s sleeping, but I had to come see you. I’m here the night and home in the morning. How are you? What an awful scare you gave us.”

      Geraldine crossed to the bed and reached down to hug Susan. They released and Susan studied Geraldine’s wan face and darting gaze that seemed so out of keeping for a new mom. Anger rose up from her stomach. What was that self-serving prick Max up to now?

      Geraldine grimaced. “Your poor hands.”

      Susan shook off a sense of foreboding and laughed. “They’ll soon be right as rain. I was so foolish to go into the Gatineau Hills alone. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

      “We all do things without thinking them through now and then.” Geraldine lowered herself into the chair and straightened her hospital gown.

      “I seem to be doing that more and more. But tell me, how is the baby?”

      “She … Amy Rose, is wonderful. Perfect. Labour was easy, only three hours. I just wish my father could be here to see her.”

      “He’d be so proud and I know he’s somewhere up there smiling down on you both.”

      “I hope.” Geraldine took Susan’s bandaged hand in hers. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

      “No, it’s just that so much has gone on this week. I’m not feeling like myself.” Susan dabbed at her eyes with the end of the sheet. She hated to cry in front of Tom’s daughter. It should be the other way around, her offering comfort.

      “I wanted to ask your advice on something, but now isn’t the time. Maybe I could come visit you when we’re both home,” said Geraldine.

      “I’d like that. I’m sorry that I’m so weepy these days. I really don’t know what’s come over me.”

      “Well, we have one thing to be thankful for. Laurel isn’t having a service for Dad. He asked in his will to be cremated and no funeral. She’s decided to respect his wishes. I think that considering the state of our family, it’ll be for the best if we aren’t all in the same room.”

      “It might have been nice if his death brought everyone together.”

      “Nice, but a reach. It will take more than Dad’s death to get Mom and Laurel to be civil with each other.”

      After Geraldine returned to her room, Susan got out of bed and began slowly packing her few things into the overnight bag Clinton had brought earlier. Her bandaged hands made movement awkward, but not impossible. Clinton had been solicitous and hovered around her as if he had nowhere else to be. She’d finally sent him home to get some work done and to give her room to think.

      Should she believe his story about being in transit when she was stranded in the Quebec woods? Why hadn’t he called to say that he was coming home? He’d never been one for surprises or deviations from a schedule. Why was he being so damn nice all of a sudden?

      She looked at the empty chair next to her bed and thought about Geraldine and the change in her eyes the last few times they’d met. It could have to do with Tom’s death, but it wasn’t just grief she was seeing. Something had shaken her. She should have asked Geraldine what was on her mind when she came into her room. Instead, she’d cried about Tom and lost the chance. She wasn’t a woman who believed in wicked beings, but it felt like something evil was brewing. It had begun even before Tom’s murder, like a palpable malevolence encircling them.

      They had been so careful. Surely, nobody knew?

      A shiver travelled up her spine just as Clinton stepped into the room. She lifted her head to smile at him.

      “All set to go home?” he asked.

      26

      Thursday, December 29, 7:30 p.m.

      “He’s not someone I’d pick for a business partner,” Rouleau commented, glancing sideways.

      “He seems somewhat shady,” Kala agreed.

      They stood side by side, watching J.P. Belliveau through the one-way mirror. Belliveau’s stocky body was slouched in the chair across from Grayson and Malik, his mouth set in a belligerent line, his eyes narrowed inside pouches of loose skin. They could hear the interview thanks to a strategically placed microphone. Acoustics were crystal clear.

      “Grayson’s circling around him, preparing to zoom in on the lie,” said Rouleau.

      Kala was grudgingly impressed with Grayson’s technique. He’d gotten Belliveau to repeat that he hadn’t