Embraced by Love by Suzanne Brockmann Page B

clown head.
    “Oh Lord!” she said. “What the hell is
that
?”
    “Welcome to Walterboro,” Cooper said, pulling to the side of the road. “Do you want to stop and meet the lawyer, or drive out to the house first?”
    “I thought Brad lived in town,” Josie said, rubbing her eyes.
    Cooper was staring at the Dairy Delight with nearly morbid fascination. “According to Annie’s directions,” he said, tearing his eyes away long enough to look down at the paper, “we stay on Main Street about four more miles and take a right onto River Drive. The house is a half mile down that street.”
    “You decide,” Josie said. She turned in her seat to look out of the rear window at the rest of the town. “God, is this place the pits, or what?”
    Somewhere in the distance a dog began to bark.
    “Aha,” Cooper said. “A life form. I was beginning to think Walterboro was deserted, like this was an episode of
The Twilight Zone
or something.”
    Josie pushed her dark curls back from her face. “This
is The Twilight Zone,
” she said. She gestured to the clown. “Things like
that
couldn’t possibly be real.”
    “I don’t know,” Cooper said, looking back at the clown. “There’s something about it that grabs me. I mean, it’s such a counterpoint to the architecture of the church—”
    Josie laughed. It was the first time in days that Cooper had even seen her smile. “Cooper McBride, don’t you dare even
think
about designing buildings that have ears for doors.”
    “Actually, I was thinking that your reception area needs an overhaul and—”
    “Let’s not go out to Brad’s house today,” Josie interrupted him. “Let’s go find that motel and check in. Then I want to find out where the children are before we go to the funeral.”
    Her face was still so pale, and God, she looked so tired. What she
really
needed was more sleep. Cooper had woken up several times in the night to find her awake and staring at the ceiling. She didn’t want to talk, she didn’t want to make love. All he could do was hold her, so that’s all he did.
     
    The office of Travis Beaujelais, Esq., hadn’t been redecorated in at least fifty years. Large-slatted blinds covered the windows, one of which was opened a crack to let in fresh air. Heavy wooden file cabinets from the Paleolithic Era lined one wall, and a huge oak desk sat in the middle of the worn hardwood floor. A painting of President Roosevelt hung above the desk—probably an effective means of determining exactly when the office was first set up.
    “The chill’n have been placed in temporary foster care,” the elderly lawyer said. He had a wild shock of thick white hair that contrasted with his leathery, tanned face. He had to be pushing eighty, but his brown eyes were shrewd and alert. Cooper had the sense that not much got past this guy. Beaujelais was a big man, too. In his younger days, he had probably been even taller than Cooper. But time had given him a stoop. Despite that, he was an impressive-looking man. He leaned back in his leather chair, studying the two of them.
    Josie was perched on the edge of her own seat, looking strung as tight as a piano string. Cooper felt Beaujelais’ eyes linger on his ponytail and on his earring.
    “The social worker has recommended that the li’l ones not attend the funeral,” Beaujelais continued. “It’s to be a closed casket ceremony, and she feels that might be even more frightenin’ to li’l Lucy.”
    “How are the children doing?” Josie asked.
    “As well as to be expected,” Beaujelais drawled. “Considerin’ nobody wants ’em.”
    Josie’s cheeks flushed. “I don’t see
you
volunteering, sir,” she said defensively.
    He chuckled. “No, ma’am,” he said. “You sure don’t.”
    Cooper shifted in his seat. “What about the possibilities of getting them adopted?” he asked. “What did you find out?”
    The lawyer searched his messy desk top for a file. “Here we go,” he said, finding and