Silver Linings

emerged from Cormier's mansion. The memory would send a finger of anguish down his spine for years to come. She should not have had to witness that kind of violence. She was a sheltered city creature. She had always been protected from the brutal side of life.
    It had been almost a year since Hugh had last seen her. Not that he had not tried. He'd deliberately arranged three separate excuses during the past eight months to report to Charlotte Vailcourt in person at Vailcourt headquarters in Seattle. Charlotte had conspired willingly enough with the pretenses. Acting was easy for her. Before she had abandoned her career to marry George Vailcourt, she had been a critically acclaimed legend of the silver screen.
    He and Charlotte had thought their plans to surprise Mattie in Seattle were flawless, but on each occasion Hugh had arrived in town only to find Mattie gone.
    The first time she had been off on a buying trip in Santa Fe. The second time she had been visiting an artist's colony in Northern California.
    After that Hugh had begun to suspect her absences were not a coincidence.
    On the third occasion Hugh had ordered Charlotte not to say a word to anyone about his impending visit. But somehow Mattie had discovered his plans the day before he hit town. She had left that same day to attend a series of gallery showings in New York.
    Hugh had been furious and he'd made no secret of it. He had snarled at his boss, told himself no female was worth this kind of aggravation, and taken the next plane back to St. Gabriel.
    But a thousand miles out over the Pacific and two whiskeys later, he had forgotten his own advice to forget Mattie Sharpe. He had spent the remainder of the long flight concocting an infallible scheme to force Mattie to meet him on his turf. He'd had it with chasing after her. She would come to him.
    Out here on his own territory he would have the advantage. Hell, once her plane touched down on St. Gabriel, she would not even be able to get back off the island without his knowing about it well in advance.
    What he'd needed was a reason for her to come out to the islands.
    The memory of Paul Cormier's collection of antique weapons had been an inspiration. Hugh had only met one other person who collected such gruesome stuff. That person was Charlotte Vailcourt, who had taken a keen interest in her husband's collection after his death.
    Sixty years old, wealthy, shrewd, and delightfully eccentric, the former star turned business wizard had a passion for old implements of violence. She claimed they nicely complemented her executive personality. There were times when Hugh was inclined to agree.
    Charlotte had been thrilled with the scheme to strand Mattie on St. Gabriel. Long convinced that Mattie desperately needed a vacation, she had talked her niece into taking one at a plush resort just a bit beyond the Hawaiian Islands. And as long as she was going that far, Charlotte had said casually, she might as well hop over to Purgatory and pick up a valuable medieval sword from a collector named Paul Cormier.
    Nobody had mentioned that the route to Cormier's island was via St. Gabriel.
    “Hugh?”
    “Yeah?”
    “Who is Christine?”
    Hugh frowned, “Christine Cormier? Paul's wife. She died a couple years ago. Why?”
    “He thought I was her there at the end.”
    Hugh shut his eyes and rubbed the back of his neck. “Damn. Paul was still alive when you got there?”
    “Only for about three or four minutes. No more. He told me there was no point calling for help.”
    “Christ.” Hugh leaned his head back against the wall. He remembered the great red wound in his friend's chest and the blood that had stained the floor and Mattie's clothing. “Was that the first time you've ever had to, uh…”
    “Watch someone die? No. I was with my grandmother at the end. But that was so different. She was in a hospital and the whole family was there.” There was a long pause. “She was a famous ballerina, you know.”
    “I know.”
    “I still remember her last words,” Mattie said.
    “What were they?”
    “‘Pity the younger girl never showed any signs of talent.’”
    Hugh winced. “She was talking about you?”
    “Uh-huh. Aunt Charlotte said Grandmother might have been one of the finest prima ballerinas who had ever lived, but that didn't change the fact that she had all the sensitivity of a bull elephant. Even on her deathbed.”
    Hugh was silent for a moment. He'd seen enough of her multitalented family to