Bound by Suggestion (35 page)

Lush, calf-high grass rustled against my jeans. I was out of sight of the road when I took out Sam’s gun. Still no sign of a house.

I kept walking, trying to squelch the urge to run. Keep calm. Doing anything else would likely mean the end for Maggie.

The woman who’d dumped me.

The woman who took up with her college sweetheart because he had more money than me.

Okay, so I didn’t know if that was true, but it seemed the most likely explanation. Yet who had she called when she was in trouble?

Me.

Okay, she was in trouble
because
of me.

Lost in thought, I’d almost walked past the house, some thirty yards to my right, an ultra modern structure with lots of sharp angles and windows jutting out in odd places. No doubt some architect kept the site plans and photos on the top of his portfolio, but it looked butt ugly to me. The back of the house overlooked the lake, its floor-to-ceiling glass walls giving the owners a grand vista to enjoy. On a clear day you could probably see Toronto on the northern shore, looking like Oz gleaming in the sunlight. All those windows meant it was going to be hard for me to sneak up on the place.

I backtracked a few yards, cut over three lines of trees so that I could see the front of the house. The orchard thinned out about twenty yards from the main entrance. One car in the drive. A dark green BMW 5 series sedan, last year’s model, I guessed. Doug had good taste as well as big bucks.

Where was Krista likely to be holed up? The windows on this end were small. Would she be watching for me, or did she have Maggie and Doug trussed up somewhere else in the house? She’d want to keep an eye on them, not trusting them to be left alone.

“Come on, Maggie, give me a clue,” I said and closed my eyes, trying to home in on my lady.

Doug’s lady.

I thought about the first time we’d made love, the surprises we’d experienced, the sweet sensual taste of her. The first time I’d touched her soul. I breathed deeply and connected with her at last, basking in the other life I knew so well.

She was startled.
Don’t give me away
, I pleaded.
Concentrate, babe. Look around you, show me what you see.

I squeezed my eyes so tight, impressions of the trees, in green, glowed before my mind’s eye. Then, like bad television reception, I could see the room through Maggie’s eyes. A rough-hewn stone fireplace, cold and empty. Furniture draped in sheets. Doug, his arms wrenched behind him, tied to a chair, the buttons staining his pinstriped vest. Duct tape covered his mouth. Krista yakked on a cell phone, her face twisted in fury. She looked out over the lake as she yelled at . . . Timberly?

Thank you, babe.

I opened my eyes and felt the full brunt of her fear, and her new-born hope. We were back in tune, like a couple of Stradivarius violins.

Then I was running, straight up to the house, where I pressed my body against it. With my back to the weathered shingles, I turned the corner, hunched down. Duck-walking down the side of the building, I made my way to the edge of the wall of glass.

I saw Maggie, her back to me—recognized her blue office suit, the one she’d worn the day we’d met. Like Doug, she too was gagged.

I backed up a few feet and looked ahead, to where Krista was staring. The house sat atop a short bluff. A dock was already in place for the season. A gleaming white cruiser—maybe thirty feet in length—bobbed in a slip. It took big bucks to maintain a lifestyle like this. Richard’s guess that Timberly had been dipping into the Foundation’s coffers was probably on the mark.

The boat could also be a great asset to a couple of would-be murderers. Weigh down your victims’ bodies, drive out a couple of miles, then dump them. Hadn’t I learned in school that parts of the lake were over eight hundred feet deep?

I glanced at my watch: fifteen minutes since I’d left Richard and Brenda. Time to head back.

I inched back the way I’d come but paused at the end of the building and closed my eyes, pictured myself holding Maggie in my arms, hoping to God I could transmit a message to her.

Sit tight. I’ll be back for you, babe. I promise.

Richard turned
the key in the ignition, cutting the engine. Without a word, Jeff opened the passenger side door and got out. He opened the rear door and helped Brenda out, then she ducked into the front seat. Jeff closed the door and headed for the 24-hour diner’s entrance, standing out of the wind.

“Well, this is it,” Brenda said, her voice strained.

Richard reached for his wife’s hand. “Yeah.”

“I’m scared to death.”

“So am I,” he admitted. “Have you got the cell phone?”

She patted her purse. “Right here.”

“Okay. If you don’t hear from us in one hour from the time we drive off, call the police.”

“One hour to the second,” she promised.

Richard nodded and stared deeply into her eyes. How could he tell her everything he was feeling? All the things he’d wanted to say and never found the right time to do it.

“I’m sorry, Brenda,” he began. “Sorry any of this happened. I’m—”

She covered his mouth with her hand. “Shut up, you’re wasting time. Tell me how much you love me. That I’m the most beautiful woman you’ve ever made love to. Tell me where we’re going on our tenth wedding anniversary—anything but that you’re sorry.”

“You’re the most beautiful woman I ever made love to. We’ll go back to Paris on our tenth wedding anniversary, and tomorrow, I’ll bring you breakfast in bed.”

She laughed, throwing her arms around his neck. “Please, not that. You can’t even boil water.”

“Okay, then . . . you can bring me breakfast in bed.”

“I love you Richard Alpert,” she whispered in his ear. “I always will.”

“I love you, Brenda Stanley. With all my heart.”

She pulled back, tears rimming her dark brown eyes. “You bring back my Jeffy and girlfriend in one piece, you hear?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Brenda kissed him. He held her in his arms, wishing he never had to let go.

She pulled back again, and gathered her purse. “Get going,” she said, her voice under control once more. Brenda opened the car door and got out, heading for the diner’s door without looking back.

Jeff waited for her. She held out her hands to him. He took them, spoke to her. Richard watched as his brother nodded, closed his eyes and hugged his wife—held onto her for an agonizingly long time. Then Brenda pulled back, kissed Jeff on the mouth, and went inside.

They’d never be lovers, Richard knew, but still that thread of jealousy taunted him. Jeff said he touched Maggie’s soul when they made love. Could he touch Brenda’s without that physical link?

Richard put such thoughts out of his mind as Jeff walked back to the car and got in.

Jeff met his gaze. “Let’s do it.”

Richard rang
the doorbell and waited. Every muscle in his body screamed run, escape—save yourself! Instead, he rang the bell again. What the hell was Krista waiting for?

He glanced behind him. No sign of Jeff. He’d given his brother five minutes to get into position before he’d driven the car up the gravel drive.

Timberly had chosen the perfect place for mass murder. No doubt he intended to kill all of them . . . probably Krista, too. Gunshots wouldn’t be heard by neighbors. And, as Jeff had pointed out—after they’d let Brenda off—the boat out back could take them all out to a watery grave.

The door opened a crack. The nose of a pistol poked out. Slowly the door swung wider, revealing Krista Marsh dressed in the same turquoise dress she’d worn to Paula Devlin’s all those weeks ago. “ It took you long enough.”

Richard ignored the remark, holding his hands out in submission. “I’m unarmed.”

Krista backed up to let him enter, and then shoved the gun into his neck, pushing him against the wall. “You don’t mind if I check?” She ran a hand across his body, no doubt taking great pleasure as she fondled his crotch before running her hand down his legs.

“What took you so long to get here?”

Richard clamped his jaws shut, unwilling to apologize to the bitch who’d done so much to hurt his brother.

The gun traced a line down the center of his back, then nudged him to move to his left. “Take a walk.”

Richard followed a dark hall, which opened to a glassed-in room filled with waning natural light. Maggie and Doug Mallon sat tied to twin dining room chairs flanking the fireplace. Silver duct tape kept them quiet.

“Are you okay, Maggie?” Richard asked.

She nodded, her face twisted in fear and worry, her eyes wild.

“Sorry to meet again under these circumstances, Doug,” he said, trying to convey a sense of calm he didn’t feel.

Mallon’s eyes were frantic.

Krista circled around, holding her gun on all of them.

“What happens now?” Richard asked.

“We wait for Wes. He should be here any minute.”

Rain began to pelt the wall of glass surrounding them. The sky over the lake had gone an ominous black.

“Where’s Jeff?” Krista demanded.

“Right now he’s a basket case in the Buffalo Psych Center. You knew he was connected to Grace. You had to know he’d try and kill himself when she did.”

Krista regarded him with suspicion. “I don’t believe you.”

“Ask Maggie. She knows everything he feels. She called to warn me he was going to try it. Isn’t that right?”

Krista glanced askance at her hostage. Maggie nodded, her eyes so wide they looked dilated.

“I don’t believe you,” Krista repeated.

Richard shrugged. “It’s immaterial what you believe.” He glanced at the clock on the mantel.
Come on, Jeff.

“Do you want to tell me why, Krista?” Richard asked, stalling.

“I didn’t want this to happen, but you crossed Wes one time too many.”

She was parroting Timberly, who’d said the same thing earlier on the phone message.

“I never crossed Wes. Not in med school, not as interns, residents, or at any time in the last year.”

“What do you call taking his chairmanship away?”

“Wes did a lousy job, so they replaced him. But even that’s not enough. Come on, out with it.”

“Wes hates you. Isn’t that obvious?” she asked.

“That doesn’t tell me why?”

“Your money, of course. People like you don’t deserve to live.”

Richard snorted. “Wes couldn’t even come up with an original excuse to despise me.” He feigned boredom. “Why am I not surprised?”

“You don’t have a clue how the other half lives.”

“Driving a Lexus, I doubt you remember, either.”

“I remember. I remember wearing other girls’ hand-me-downs because my parents couldn’t afford to shop anywhere but the thrift store. I remember the utility company cutting us off in the dead of winter for non-payment.”

“Your sob story isn’t unique,” Richard said. “I guess I’m more interested in why you came to Buffalo and went after Grace. Was it because her father died, leaving her all his money? She was about to come into her trust fund. Seems like you blew your timing. Had a little too much fun at her expense. What was she worth, a few hundred thousand?”

Krista’s eyes widened in fury. “Four million. If I’d had another couple of weeks, it would’ve been mine.”

“And now you’ve got nothing.”

Her cheeks flushed. “Yeah, I blew it. But I won’t screw this up.”

“Too late,” Richard said, his voice sounding more confident than he felt. “You don’t think I’d be stupid enough to walk in here without some kind of back-up, do you? The cops are waiting for my signal—then they pounce.”

“You’re bluffing. A boy scout like you wouldn’t risk anyone’s life to save his own. Not Jeff’s, not Maggie’s—not even this joker. Well, I’m calling your bluff.”

Krista raised her arm, aimed at Doug, and fired.

Chapter 22

Doug’s chair crashed backward as the shot thundered up to echo against the beamed cathedral ceiling.

As Richard rushed forward, Krista whipped the gun around to point at his nose. Maggie’s muffled screams cut the sudden silence.

“Not feeling quite so confident now, are you?” Krista taunted.

Jeff! Where the hell are you?

“Maybe I’ll spoil Wes’s fun and take you out myself.” Krista’s mouth curled into a mockery of a smile. Then she began to laugh.

Thunder roiled out across the lake. A jagged line of lightning split the clouds.

Richard swallowed, raising his hands in defeat as he backed up a step. “I underestimated you, Krista. Vastly underestimated you.”

“I’m going to love watching you die!”

A gunshot shattered the glass behind Krista, sending shards flying like shrapnel. Krista’s gun flew from her outstretched hand. She doubled over, howling in pain.

Richard dove at her, knocking her to the floor, shoved the gun skittering out of her reach. Blood spattered from the ruin of her hand, her piercing screams rising as she beat the pulpy mass against his chest, desperate to roll away. Richard had at least seventy pounds over Krista and easily pinned her.