Aquamarine (21 page)

She placed one hand on his forearm, a casual touch, but he felt the jolt of the contact clear to his toes. “Your feelings of guilt are blinding you to the truth. It didn’t matter to Kevin whether Kirsten was on the island or not. He’d have killed her no matter where she was.”

“But I made it easier for him.” Ignoring the pain, he sat up, resting his back against the ladder.

“Kirsten made it easier for him. She was the one who was trying to manipulate everyone to get what she wanted. She was the one who stormed off when she didn’t get her way.” Shea pulled his hands into her own and gripped them tightly as if she were determined to squeeze some sense into him.

She still loved him, he realized with a relief so intense, he felt dizzy with it.

“Kirsten doesn’t blame you, Teague. Don’t you think I’d know it if she did?” She smiled. “And you know what else?”

“What?” It was hard to talk with your heart clogging your throat. Her smile was doing weird things to his breathing too.

“I love you, Teague Harris, and I’m not going to waste any more time being jealous of a dead woman.” Shea pressed her sweet mouth to his, and the world dissolved around them.

For a brief moment he didn’t feel the throb of his head or the pain in his legs, aware only of Shea and how much he loved her. Then she pulled away with a sigh, and their surroundings swam back into focus. The grimness
of their situation hit him like a blow to the solar plexus.

“You’ve got to get out of here,” he said.

She shot him a startled look.
“We’ve
got to get out of here, you mean.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Shea. You were right. I am hurt bad. I’m pretty sure both legs are broken.”

She studied him in silence as the sense of his words sank in. She looked stricken for a split second. Then she squared her jaw. “I’m not leaving you. Maybe we can reason with Kevin.”

“How do you reason with a murderer? He killed Kirsten and now he’s after you.”

“But why? I’m no threat to him.”

“Yes, you are, and I think he knows that.”

“But—”

Teague outlined the information the sheriff’s investigation had revealed. “You suspected all along that Jack was your father, didn’t you? That’s why you agreed to the charade in the first place.”

She nodded. “I thought he’d had an affair with my mother.” She shook her head in bewilderment. “But the truth is so much stranger.”

“And more dangerous. The long-lost twin of the cherished murdered daughter poses a huge threat. Kevin wants Jack’s money and he doesn’t like to share.”

“But I don’t care about the money.”

“I believe you, but Kevin won’t. Money is everything to him.”

Shea frowned. “Kevin must have been the one who broke into your apartment,” she said slowly.

“Right. Only he wasn’t stealing anything. He was planting evidence.”

“Finding Kirsten’s ring is what convinced me I couldn’t trust you.”

“I didn’t kill her.”

“I know that now. I think I must have known it then, but I was already upset because you’d called me Kirsten and that clouded my judgment.”

“Shea, you’ve got to find a way out of here. Kevin will be back soon to finish us off.”

“I thought …I thought he’d just leave us here to die.” Her eyes looked huge.

Teague started to shake his head, then changed his mind when the pain kicked in. “Too chancy. Someone might find us here, and then, of course, suspicion would fall on him. He’s too smart for that. No, I suspect he’s out there right now, arranging a fatal ‘accident.’ It’s hard to say how long he’ll be gone. Our best hope is for you to go to the sheriff for help. He knows I came out to keep an eye on you. In fact, I’m supposed to check in with the dispatcher once an hour.”

“Check in how?”

“On my cell phone.”

“Why didn’t you say you had a cell phone?”

Teague hated to quench the glimmer of hope in her eyes. “‘Had’ is the operative word. Kevin took it.”

“But the sheriff knows you’re here. When you don’t call in, he’ll get worried and come looking for you, right?”

Teague shrugged. “Unless the dispatcher’s so busy she forgets to mention it to him. No, like I said before, our best bet for survival is for you to go for help.”

“How? The trapdoor is nailed shut.”

“Yes, but the cellar is really just a hole in the ground. Dirt,” he said. “We’ve got hands. We can dig.”

“Dig,” she echoed. “I’m an idiot. The spade. That must be why I had to bring it.”

“What?”

“I have a spade down here somewhere.” She scrambled around on her hands and knees searching for it. “Here it is.” She brandished it in triumph.

“Kevin doesn’t know you have it?”

“How could he? He followed you, not me.” She stood up. “Where should I start digging?”

“Back wall as high up as you can reach.”

It was awkward trying to dig a hole at shoulder level, but the ground was surprisingly soft, almost as if it had been disturbed recently. As it had, she remembered. Beelzebub had been buried in the soft wet earth behind the cabin.

“Hurry,” Teague said.

“Why? Do you hear him coming?” Shea glanced nervously over her shoulder.

“No, the flashlight batteries are beginning to fail.”

She studied the light. Teague was right. It was definitely dimmer. She attacked the hole with renewed energy. Ten minutes later she hit something hard, something that thunked solidly against the spade. Shock waves reverberated down her arms, and she swore under her breath.

“What happened?”

“I hit a rock or something.”

“Can you work it loose?”

“I’m trying.” She levered the shovel underneath, then along the sides to loosen the big stone. Working carefully so that she didn’t start an avalanche, Shea dug around the
rock, then inserted the tip of the spade under the obstruction and exerted an upward pressure. The rock popped free like a cork from a bottle, rolling across the cellar to come to rest at Teague’s feet.

“Now I’m making some progress,” she said with satisfaction.

“Shea?” Teague’s voice sounded strange.

She turned to face him. “What?”

“That rock,” he said, lifting it gingerly, “isn’t a rock. It’s a skull.”

She recoiled violently. “Left over from the massacre?”

He shook his head slightly. “I don’t think so.”

“Kirsten?” She shuddered. He nodded.

“Oh, God. I think I know why Kevin killed the dog. Beelzebub must have disturbed Kirsten’s grave. The other day he dropped a bone under Kirsten’s bed. It never occurred to me until now that it might have been a human bone.”

“So Kevin killed the dog and tossed his body in a shallow grave.”

“He must have been in a hurry,” she said, eyeing the skull in horrified fascination. “Maybe he was supposed to be running an errand.” She remembered the day he’d returned from a trip to the post office with his shoes caked with mud, the same black mud she was now so liberally smeared with.

Shea returned to her digging, praying she wouldn’t hit another bony obstruction. She already felt like a grave robber.

Fifteen minutes later the flashlight blinked once,
flickered, then went out. “Batteries just died,” Teague announced.

Cold despair squeezed her heart. “The way we will if Kevin has his way.”

“Don’t give up yet,” Teague said. “I may have a minor miracle at my command. There. That should do it.” The light returned, much brighter than before.

“How did you do that?”

“Exchanged the old batteries for the ones from my broken flashlight.”

“You’re a genius.” She grinned, despite her fatigue. Her muscles burned and hands were a mess. The gloves had helped, but she knew her palms were blistered and possibly bleeding. Only fear kept her digging.

“Damn,” Teague whispered.

“What?” She turned to see a grim expression on his face.

“Kevin’s back,” he said.

She cocked her head to listen and heard the sound of footsteps crossing the floor above them.

“What do we do now?” She stared at Teague, her mind blank. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to end. Dammit, she and Teague had come through so much. They deserved a happily-ever-after.

“Play it by ear,” he said calmly. He dragged himself away from the ladder. “Bring me the shovel. I’ll play possum, shielding it from view with my body. He doesn’t know we have a shovel. And what he doesn’t know might hurt him.” Teague smiled steadily at her. She knew he was trying to bolster her courage and she loved him for it even though it didn’t work.

The nails made a ripping sound as Kevin pulled them from the wood. “He’s coming,” she said. Right before
Teague doused the light, he winked at her, a frivolous gesture that brought tears of love to her eyes.

Kevin lifted the door and shone his flashlight directly into her face. “Thanks for waiting,” he said with a laugh. “Where’s your boyfriend? Hiding in the corner to ambush me?”

“Look to your left.” Her voice was thick with loathing.

He swung his flashlight across to illuminate Teague’s body sprawled lifelessly in the dirt. “Break his back?” he inquired pleasantly.

“He needs a doctor.”

“You really don’t expect me to rush him to the hospital, do you?”

“Why not? Nobody has to know what really happened. We can claim it was an accident. Like with Daddy and the water hemlock.”

“So you figured that out, did you?”

“All except why.”

“He was going to change his will. You were going to be added, cutting into my share, and I was going to be stuck with a lousy trust fund. Not acceptable. I need the cash.”

“Why? Been gambling again?” she asked. “I thought you’d given up betting on football games.”

“Wasn’t football this time. Taggart Walsh arranged some private poker games at the club.”

Shea frowned. “Taggart Walsh? Isn’t he the man who backed into your Fiat?”

“Right. Subtlety’s not his strong suit. Trashing my car was a warning. I owe him a bundle.” Kevin shrugged. “I’ve been on a losing streak all summer and Walsh is getting impatient for his money.”

“So why not ask Jack?”

“Been there, done that. Decided I don’t like the accompanying lectures. Besides, I’m not a beggar.”

“No,” Shea said. “You’re a murderer.”

“And a realist. Money’s what matters in this world. People are expendable. I learned that lesson early.”

“Kirsten,” she said. “Why did you kill her, Kevin? You were only twelve. What drove you to murder her?”

“Whatever Kirsten wanted, Kirsten got—a new dress, a new car, a fancy wedding. But whenever I wanted anything, the answer was no.”

The trip to the South of France with Jeremy Bancroft’s family.
Kirsten’s thought flashed through her brain. “You wanted to spend the month of August in Saint-Tropez, didn’t you? Only Jack said no because if you went, you’d miss Kirsten’s wedding.”

He gave her a sharp look. “How do you know that?”

“I know a lot of things.” She eyed him steadily. “You’re the one who broke into Teague’s apartment to plant evidence. And you’re the one who sent me the anonymous warning.”

“Too bad you didn’t take it to heart.”

“You won’t get away with this, Kevin.”

He laughed. “Don’t be so sure. I’m going to be very rich, and money is power.”

His eyes shone bright blue in the glow of his flashlight. Shea wondered how she could ever have mistaken their soulless emptiness for innocence.

“Kirsten ruined everything for me. So I ruined everything for her. Simple as that.” Kevin’s smile made her shiver.

“My God,” she said, swallowing her disgust. “You
killed your sister just because you didn’t get to go to the Riviera?”

“Stepsister,” he said. “And it wasn’t the first time she got in my way.” He chuckled. “Though it
was
the last.”

“And tonight? Were you the one who tried to smother Daddy?”

Kevin’s laughter sounded genuinely amused. “I’m afraid I misled you a bit. There was no attack on Dad tonight. I didn’t rush to his bedside. In fact, I never left the island.”

“But the calls you made from the hospital …” she protested.

“I used the Griffins’ phone. Glory let me in. She’d do anything for me.”

“I see. Very clever.” Obviously his monstrous ego needed some stroking.

He smiled in self-satisfaction. “So now that we understand each other, let’s get on with this.” Kevin set his big square flashlight at the edge of the opening, then drew a lethal-looking pistol from the waistband of his jeans.

“What are you going to do?” she asked, edging away as he started down the ladder.

“Tie up some loose ends.”

“Killing us won’t solve anything,” Shea said, hoping he’d lose his balance on the missing rung.

He avoided it adroitly, obviously quite familiar with the ladder’s idiosyncrasies. “I’m not going to kill anyone. You and lover boy there are going to have an accident.”

“What kind of accident?”

“Fatal.” He grinned wolfishly, grabbing her sore shoulder.

She winced as much in revulsion as pain. He spun her
around and shoved her roughly against the ladder, slamming her into the rough wood facefirst. Stunned by the unexpected attack, Shea felt the warmth of blood trickling down her forehead.

She turned to face him. “It’s no use, Skeeter. You can’t kill me. It didn’t work the last time, and it won’t work this time, either.”

“What the hell are you babbling about, Shea McKenzie?” he demanded sharply, but as he stared down at her, a hint of uncertainty clouded his face.

“Not Shea McKenzie. Kirsten Rainey.” She shoved the aquamarine crystal cluster under his nose. “Remember this? You should. You’re the one who gave it to me. It connects us, Skeeter. Remember the last time you tried to kill me? When you hit me over the head? I had the crystal in my hand then too, didn’t I? You startled me when you sneaked up from behind. My hand tightened reflexively, and the rock left diagonal slashes across my fingers, didn’t it?”

“How did you know?” His voice was a strangled whisper.

Shea smiled, holding his gaze captive as she placed the crystal cluster on the floor. Slowly she removed the glove and blood-soaked bandages to display her wounds. “Remember?”

Kevin’s eyes rolled wildly. “I don’t believe it. You can’t be Kirsten. Kirsten’s dead. I buried her.”