Bound by Suggestion (36 page)

“Jeff!” he hollered.

Pounding footsteps came up the hallway. Richard looked up to see a dripping, panting Jeff standing in the arched entry.

“Get over here and help. Wes will be here any minute.”

Instead, Jeff shoved his gun in the waistband of his jeans, picked up Krista’s gun, emptied it, and tucked it into his jacket pocket. He stepped over Doug’s silent form to Maggie, ripped the tape from across her mouth and kissed her. “Stay put, babe.”

Krista continued to struggle, still screaming. Jeff bent down, forced her mouth closed, and covered it with the length of tape, reducing her howls to muffled cries.

“Thank you,” Richard breathed. “Now what do we do with her?”

“Tie her up. We’ll use Maggie’s ropes.”

Still sobbing, Maggie sat back in her chair. “She killed him. My God, she killed Doug.”

Jeff knelt behind her, fumbling with the restraints. “Christ, what the hell kind of knots are these?”

“Will you hurry!” Richard yelled.

Thunder rumbled through the darkening house. Krista’s thrashing subsided. Richard risked letting go of her and sat back on his heels, his sweater damp with Krista’s blood. She cradled her gory hand to her breast, ruining her dress.

Richard struggled to his feet, hauling Krista up by her good arm to deposit her on the sheet-shrouded couch. Then he grabbed another sheet from a chair and struggled to rip it. “Looks a lot easier on TV. How are you coming with those ropes? We’re running out of time.”

Lightning cracked the sky once more.

“Got it,” Jeff said, pulling a length free and tossing it at Richard. He circled the chair, pulling Maggie up and into a hug.

“I was so afraid,” she cried, burying her face in his neck.

“It’s okay, Maggs, it’s okay.”

“No it’s not,” Richard thundered, wrapping a strip of cloth around Krista’s wasted hand. “Get over here, will you?”

Jeff kissed Maggie’s lips, his face an amalgam of worry, love and desperate need. He cared deeply for Brenda, but he lusted for Maggie. And in that moment, Richard knew he would never again worry about the connection his wife and brother shared.

“Take care of Krista.” Richard crossed the room for Doug. Still tied to his chair, Doug hadn’t moved. Richard knelt, placed a hand along the man’s throat, feeling for the carotid pulse. Faint, but steady.

“He’s alive.” Richard loosened Doug’s tie, unfastening the top shirt button, then ran his fingers through the injured man’s hair. “No sign of a wound. He may have just whacked his head on the fireplace.” Sure enough, an egg-sized lump had already formed on the back of Doug’s skull. Richard peeled back an eyelid but couldn’t tell in the dim light if Doug’s pupils were dilated.

He examined the ropes holding the man captive. “Maggie, go to the kitchen. See if you can find a knife so we can cut him free.”

She nodded, as though grateful for something to do.

Richard glanced over his shoulder at Jeff. “How’s Krista?”

The wadded piece of fabric wrapping Krista’s right hand was a sodden mess. She stared straight ahead, no longer a threat to anyone.

“She looks shocky,” Jeff said. “You’d better take over here.”

“First things first.” Richard turned to Doug. “Can you hear me?”

No response.

Maggie returned with a butcher knife. Richard took it from her. She crouched beside him, watching him saw through the nylon ropes.

“Will he be okay?”

“If we can get the hell out of here before Wes shows up, yeah.”

“Too late for that, Dr. Dick.”

Wes Timberly stood silhouetted in the doorway, clutching a shotgun, its barrel pointed straight at Richard.

The hairs
on the back of my neck stood on end and my gut lurched. Timberly threw a switch, bathing the room in hundreds of watts of light from every corner. With my back toward him, I hadn’t seen what I could now see reflected in the wall of windows—a shotgun.

“Krista, get over here.”

She stayed put.

“Krista!” Timberly demanded.

“She’s not feeling well,” I offered, careful to keep my hands in plain view and away from my body.

“What’s wrong with her?”

I looked at him over my shoulder. “She hurt her hand.”

Timberly waved the barrel of the gun, motioning me to move aside.

I pivoted, keeping him in sight as I side-stepped toward Richard and Maggie.

“Over there,” Timberly said, nodding for me to move to the left.

I inched over by the French doors, watching his every move.

Timberly crossed to stand next to Krista, taking in the bloody mess around her hand. He ripped the tape from across her mouth. She flinched, crying out in pain.

“What happened?” Timberly barked.

Krista looked up at him with glassy eyes. “Jeff shot me.”

Timberly’s face twisted. The shotgun zeroed in on my belly.

I glanced over at Richard and Maggie. Both were pale under the glaring, white light.

“Now what, Wes?” Richard said, pulling himself into a standing position.

Timberly’s cold smile burned. “I’m going to kill you.”

“Then what?”

“Dump you in the lake.”

“Bloated bodies tend to float,” I said.

“Not if they’re wrapped in chains and weighed down.”

“You seem to be without an able-bodied helper,” Richard pointed out.

“I don’t need her.”

“I’ll bet you don’t,” I muttered.

Timberly glared at me.

“Hey,” called a groggy voice from the floor. “What’s going on?”

Doug groped for a handhold, found the stone fireplace and pulled himself into a sitting position. His left hand grabbed the back of his head. He winced, his gaze shifting to take in Krista and Timberly. “Who the hell are you?”

“Shut up!” Timberly ordered.

“I think the odds just shifted in our favor,” I said.

“Not as long as I’ve got this,” Timberly said, waving the shotgun to take us all in.

“One, maybe two of us could die—but the others could take you on,” I said. “And I think we’re all pissed enough that we wouldn’t mind doing to you what you intended to do to us.”

Timberly’s anxiety level shot up at least a hundred points.

Doug looked at me with loathing. “Who the hell do you think you are? You can’t speak for me.” He fixed his gaze back on Timberly. “I don’t know these people, I have no loyalty to them, but I’ve got money. I’ll give you whatever you want—just let me walk out of here.”

“Doug!” Maggie’s outrage was scalding.

Doug turned on her. “It’s because of
your
old boyfriend that we’re in this situation. I want nothing to do with it—or him!”

“What about me?” she cried.

Doug didn’t answer.

Timberly’s confidence vaulted upward. “That’s an interesting offer. Come here and we’ll discuss it.”

Doug gave me a look of utter contempt mixed with triumph as he hauled himself to his feet, swaying. Given the chance, he’d have gladly squeezed the shotgun’s trigger himself.

Maggie’s paramour moved the ten or so feet to stand in front of Timberly, back to him, his chest puffed out, his expression smug. Doug never saw Timberly swing the butt of the shotgun, smashing the solid wood into the back of his skull.

“Look out!” Maggie screamed, too late.

Doug fell as though pole-axed.

Timberly stood over him, his smile a malignant slash across his face. “What an asshole.” His gaze shifted to me, the grin widening. “You were wrong. You thought it was four against one. Now it’s three. But I can even those odds.”

Our eyes met, pure malevolence radiating from his every pore.

“Wildebeest!” Timberly shouted, and my world spiraled into darkness.

“Nooooo!” Richard
howled, his entire body sagging.

Maggie grabbed him by the shoulder.

Richard stared at his brother. Jeff looked like a limp scarecrow who defied gravity to stay upright.

“Are you okay?” Maggie asked Richard, breathless with worry.

Timberly’s laugh resounded through the cavernous room.

“Jeff!” Richard yelled. His brother didn’t move, didn’t react.

“Whoever says the magic word has the power,” Timberly said, his smile triumphant.

“What’s he talking about?” Maggie demanded.

Heartsick, Richard shook his head. “Krista planted a post-hypnotic suggestion in Jeff’s head. He’ll do whatever Timberly says, now.”

Maggie’s wild eyes flashed from Richard to Jeff. “I don’t believe it. Jeff would never hurt you—or me.”

“Believe it,” Timberly said. He glanced at Jeff and snapped his fingers. “Sight.”

Jeff lifted his head as though it weighed a ton.

“Come stand with me.”

Like an automaton, Jeff staggered forward on stiff legs. He stopped within feet of Timberly, his glassy-eyed gaze fixed solidly on the floor.

“Jeff, it’s me, Richard. Don’t listen to him. Jeff!”

No response from the lax-faced man.

“Jeff!” Maggie tried. Nothing.

“It’ll be interesting to watch brother kill brother.”

“There’s no way you could make Jeff do that,” Maggie protested.

“Not under normal circumstances,” Timberly agreed, “but these are not normal circumstances. And I’ll prove it.” He turned back to Jeff. “Where’s Krista’s gun?”

Jeff withdrew the weapon from his jacket pocket.

“Shoot Richard.”

Without hesitation, Jeff turned, his dark eyes dull and lifeless. He raised his hand, pointed the gun and pulled the trigger.

Richard waited for the shot, but the only noise the gun made was a sharp clicking. All the chambers were empty.

Richard let out a shaky breath.

Angered, Timberly wrenched the gun from Jeff’s hand, throwing it behind them.

“What about my hand?” Krista said. “I need a surgeon.”

“You can see one tomorrow.”

“I want to go to a hospital, now!”

For the first time, Richard saw indecision shadow Timberly’s eyes.

“Jeff, put Krista in Richard’s car,” Timberly said. “Then I want you to come back here. I have a lot more for you to do. Do you understand?”

Jeff nodded, looking like a stoned zombie. He walked to the couch, helped Krista to stand, then led her to the hallway and out.

Richard and Maggie watched him disappear. Maggie stepped closer, grasping Richard’s arm in a death clench. “He’s going to kill us.”

Richard had no words of comfort. “It doesn’t have to end this way,” he told Timberly.

“Yes it does. You probably already figured it out.”

“You mean that you and Wally bilked the foundation out of hundreds of thousands of dollars.”

“Millions,” Timberly corrected. “I can finally ditch my cow of a wife. Your recent fund-raising activities have been extremely good for me, Dr. Dick. I’ll live very comfortably in my villa in Tuscany.”

“You won’t get away with this, Wes. Brenda knows everything. She’s in a safe place and will tell all to the cops.”

“Doesn’t matter. Who’s gonna believe a dumb nigger over a respected physician?”

Richard lunged forward, but Maggie held him back. “He’s baiting you. Don’t let him win.”

Hadn’t he said the same thing to Jeff just the day before concerning Krista?

“I’m sick of insipid delusional women who’ll believe any cock-and-bull story a man gives, then spreads her legs for whatever meal ticket she thinks she can latch onto,” Timberly said.

Maggie sagged by Richard’s side, pulling on his arm.

“The story is that your wife’s the one with money. That you’ve been tied to her purse strings for years. What happened? Did she cut you off, Wes?”

“You’re full of shit, Dr. Dick.”

“I wish to God I’d never gotten involved with any of this,” Maggie groaned, and sank to her knees. “We’re going to die. We’re all going to die.”

Timberly’s smile could’ve lit the room. “Ah, the sweet taste of victory. Now we’ll just wait for baby brother to get back, and I’ll give you a show that you’ll never forget. Oh, but then, you won’t be alive to remember,” he said and laughed.

And laughed, and laughed.

I opened
the screen door and helped Krista down the concrete step. The cold, rain-laced wind was like a slap in the face. I paused, and heard Richard’s voice from days ago, telling me Krista’s insidious little bomb inside my head would no longer plunge me into darkness. That I was safe.

But I wasn’t safe—and neither were Richard and Maggie.

Krista leaned heavily on my arm. I had to ditch her and get back inside.

Timberly’s car was nowhere in sight. He must have parked it on the road and, like me, hiked up to the house. Following his orders, I led Krista to Richard’s Lincoln, opened the back door and shoved her inside.