Come Morning (37 page)

“Oh!” Startled, Brie paused in the kitchen doorway, hardly believing what she saw. Craig Walker, looking uncharacteristically dirty and disheveled, was standing just inside the door. “What are you doing here?”

“Brie, I’ve been wandering all over, looking for you.” Looking exhausted, he pulled out a kitchen chair and dropped into it.

Confused and annoyed, she stayed in the archway. This was something she really didn’t need right now. Craig’s timing was rotten. “How’d you get in?”

“Your back door was unlocked.” He rubbed a shaky hand across his face. He was unshaven and his eyes were bloodshot. “I don’t suppose you have any coffee?”

The door had been left unlocked? How could she have been so careless? Her mind filling with questions, she answered, “I was just about to make some.” She filled the pot with bottled water she kept in the fridge, just in case there was a problem with the island water, all the while keeping a wary eye on him. “I just talked with you, wasn’t it yesterday?” She remembered the odd, conciliatory conversation they’d had where he’d apologized, sounding more humble than she’d thought him capable of.

“I told you then mat we were having hurricane warnings.” When had they closed the airport? she wondered. “Why would you come over, knowing that?”

“I just have to get this over with, to finish. I had to see you because … because time is running out. I only have until the first and …” Seeming to realize he was rambling on, he licked his lips nervously, glancing toward the back door. “I got caught in it, you know. I wanted to come see you, but I couldn’t find a cab on account of the weather. So I started walking.” He shook his head, his face bleak. “Damn rain. I got drenched, then you weren’t home. The winds were so strong. I wound up going into this movie theater just to get out of the rain.”

Eyebrows raised, she glanced at him. “A movie theater was open during the hurricane?”

“No, I broke in. I had to get out of the rain, don’t you see? And it was too far to go walk back to the Nesbitt Inn where I’d checked in. No cabs running.”

Briana remembered he’d stayed at the Nesbitt the last time he’d visited. If he’d gotten a room, it must mean he intended to stay awhile. She really didn’t want to deal with him right now. But she plugged in the pot, then turned to face him, leaning against the counter. Keeping her distance. Something wasn’t right here. Craig was acting very much out of character and she needed to find out why. “I don’t understand what was so important that you couldn’t wait until the weather improved. You didn’t mention anything pressing on the phone.”

But Craig seemed focused on something else. “I stopped to help this woman on the way over here. She was pregnant and she’d fallen. I tried to get her over to this clinic. She kept telling me she was going into labor. Jesus! I don’t know anything about delivering babies.”

He wasn’t making sense. Usually he was so centered, so in control. Was he just overtired? Had the hurricane freaked him out? Perhaps if she played along, he’d finally get his story out. “What happened to her?”

“This cop came along and I handed her over. I didn’t know what else to do. Then there was this old man. He was caught in this building and the roof had blown off. A wall had caved in and he was trapped under some furniture. You could hear him yelling out on the sidewalk.” He shook his head, as if it were all too much for him.

“Did you help him?”

“Yeah, but it took hours. These two guys showed up—big, strong truck driver types—and the three of us shoved and pushed and pulled.” He glanced down at his hands, dirty and scratched. “I didn’t think we’d do it, but we finally got him out.” His hazel eyes seemed to plead for understanding as they met hers. “I’m not a bad guy, Briana.”

Puzzled now, she frowned. “I never said you were, Craig. You’ve already apologized and I told you we’re still friends. There certainly was no need for you to come in person. I mean, what more can I say?”

He waved a hand, dismissing that. “No, this isn’t about that. It’s about … oh, shit! I never wanted things to get out of hand like this.”

Thoroughly confused, Brie poured them each a mug of coffee, took his over to him. As she placed it on the table, she noticed that he smelled like whisky. “Craig, have you been drinking?” It was about nine in the morning. Had he needed some liquid courage after the incidents he’d described to her?

“This cafe on Main Street was passing out free drinks to rescuers, guys who were helping out, so I had a couple. To warm up, you know.” He glanced down at his ruined Armani suit. “Damn, but it was cold in that rain. And the wind!” Shivering, he picked up the mug and sipped the coffee.

Brie went back to stand at the counter, keeping the island sink and counter between them. This whole conversation was making her uneasy. She supposed he couldn’t be faulted for having a drink or two. Perhaps he’d even been in shock. By the look of him, he might still be. “Listen, I still seem to be missing something here. Just why is it you felt it necessary to come back over here?”

His hands folded around the mug, as if trying to get warm. “I stopped at the Island Camera Shop before coming here,” he said, totally ignoring her question. “The owner was there, cleaning up the plate glass window that had blown in. He said you’d picked up the film a couple of days ago.” He looked up frustrated, angry. “Just give it to me, all right, Brie? Forget what you saw and I’ll go away and never bother you again.”

Unease turned to apprehension as Briana noticed his sudden shift of mood from beseeching to demanding. “What film?”

“Don’t play games with me!” Craig shouted, rising. He didn’t go to her, but instead began pacing his side of the kitchen, his muddy shoes leaving a trail of footsteps on her new tile. “You have to know I never wanted it to come to this. If only you’d cooperated in the first place, everything would have worked out.”

“Worked out how? I’m not playing games. I really don’t know what you’re after.” Heart thudding, she watched his agitated pacing, wishing Slade hadn’t picked today of all days to pull back from her. She’d give anything if he’d suddenly appear at the door, walk right in. She’d known Craig for years, yet his behavior was scaring her. And his raving about some film she was supposed to have was really off the wall.

Pausing at the table, he gulped down the rest of the coffee, hoping to steady his nerves. He had to make her see. This was his last hope. “There’s not much time left,” he said, rattling the loose change in his pants pockets. “There’s so much at stake. There are others involved here, people who won’t hesitate to kill me if I can’t continue to produce. If I blow my cover. I can’t risk being identified and exposed, not when I’ve come so far.”

Blow his cover?
Calm. She needed to stay calm, even though she was having trouble following his ramblings, trouble thinking clearly. He was acting so irrational, so crazy. She’d read where in the face of someone threatening, someone obviously disturbed, the thing to do was to appear calm. “I still don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The goddamn film! I know you have it, so just hand the pictures over.”

She clutched her coffee cup in both hands. If he came at her, she would throw it at him, mug and all. The coffee was no longer hot enough to do any real damage, but it was her only defense. He was watching her closely now. Her knives, unfortunately, were on his side of the room. Why hadn’t she left Grandma’s big iron skillet out where she could easily grab it? Dear God, she prayed, don’t let it come to that.

“I don’t have any pictures you’d be interested in. The roll I picked up from Island Camera was taken months ago, snapshots of Bobby on … on his last day. And I …” The scene popped into her mind, snapping pictures of Bobby walking away, his hand in Robert’s, the green balloon bobbing along. She’d continued taking pictures after they’d reached the other side of the street. Then the sounds, the car that had sped by.

Her eyes widened as a terrible thought slipped into her consciousness, but it was too awful to consider. No! It couldn’t be, could it? “Is that the roll of film you want?”

“I can tell you haven’t looked at them yet, right? Maybe there’s nothing there, but I need to see for myself. I need to make sure.” He took a step around the table, towards her.

“Make sure of what?” Brie asked, her voice steady as an icy calm settled on her. Surely what she was thinking wasn’t so.

“That no one can ID me, damn it!” He’d been through so much, couldn’t she see? He hated for her to hear the truth, hated for her to look at him with loathing the way she would. Maybe if he told her all of it, she’d understand. “The others who’re involved, they’re not patient men. I have to come through. It’s the domino effect, don’t you see? If they catch me, my arrest will lead the investigators to others. These are violent, dangerous men. I couldn’t convince Robert of the danger. He just wouldn’t listen. As soon as he found out, he confronted me, told me I had to confess, to make restitution or he’d expose me. I couldn’t let that happen so …” He paused, as if searching for the right words.

As if in the middle of a bad dream, she stood perfectly still. “Go on.”

Sweat poured down his face, but Craig ignored it. “I never intended to kill Robert. I … just wanted to scare him, you know. He stood there that day, arguing with me, telling me I had until Monday to make it right or he was going to Mr. Brighton. He was so damn
sanctimonious
, so judgmental. I told him, everyone skims a little here and there. You just have to be careful.”

His voice cracked in his anxiety to explain himself. “But not Saint Robert. He wouldn’t bend the rules a little, not even for his best friend. So I knew I’d have to do something, scare him so he wouldn’t turn me in. The shot was meant as a warning, supposed to just graze him, but I was nervous. Driving fast, my fingers sweaty. My aim was off and the first shot hit the kid. Damn!”

The kid! The first shot hit the kid!
Briana felt a choked sob burst from her.

Craig struggled with tears. “I wouldn’t knowingly have hurt Bobby for the world, Brie. You know that. You have to believe me. It was an accident.”

The horror of his words struck Briana like a fast, furious fist to the gut. “You killed my son. But why?”

“For the money, of course.”

“You shot Bobby for a little money?” She wanted to understand, needed to.

“Not just a little money, Brie. Two million dollars. But that’s not all. If I’m exposed, if my face or the license plate of my rental car is in any of your pictures and Glenn Hal-stead’s men find out I’m a dead man.”

She felt as if she were climbing up through a thick, gray fog. “Glenn Halstead. The man Mr. Brighton told me about. So it was you, not Robert, who’d been laundering illegal money through dummy accounts. And you tried to convince me that Robert was guilty, that his ambition led him to do something dishonest, when all along, it was you.” Brie’s hands flew to her face as a wave of nausea swept over her. “Oh, God, how could you compound your dishonesty by killing your best friend and an innocent child?”

Distraught at the condemnation in her eyes, Craig scrubbed a hand over his face. “You have to believe me, Brie. I had no idea Bobby was going to be with Robert that day. He told me to meet him at Beacon and Charles, that he had an appointment and didn’t have much time. How was I supposed to know it was his day with the kid?”

“How dare you! His name was Bobby and he’d be here right now, this very minute, if it weren’t for you.” She swung around, away from that sniveling face, closing her eyes as bile backed up in her throat. “Get away from me, from here. I never want to see you again.”

“Oh, no, we’re not finished.” He came all the way around the table and grabbed her arm, jerked her around, his hot breath hissing in her face. “I haven’t come this far to give up now. I tried everything to find out where those pictures were without involving you. I broke into your condo in Boston, and they weren’t there, not in any of your cameras. I broke in here, twice, and nothing! I tried to scare you off the island, so you’d come back where I could get the information out of you one way or another, without hurting you. But not even the phone calls scared you. It wasn’t until I talked with your mother after you left this last time that she mentioned she’d given you the camera bag you’d had that day. I had to come, don’t you see? I saw you taking pictures that day on the Common. I have to get that film, the one that might expose me. They warned me that if I didn’t take the film to them soon, they’d kill me. I tried, God knows, and then this blasted hurricane came along. Damn it, Brie, if you’d have just cooperated.”

Trembling inside, Brie was determined not to let him see. Lord only knew what he’d do if he realized how truly frightened she was. A crazed man was totally unpredictable. Stalling for time was her best bet. Maybe Slade would have an epiphany and come over.

Pushing back the horror of what she’d learned over the past few minutes, Brie tried to shake off his hand, but he held her in a steely grip. “I’m really sorry I didn’t roll over and play dead for you by handing over pictures I had no idea you wanted.”

Craig was running out of patience. “Just tell me where they are, give them to me and I’ll leave.”

She knew exactly where she’d put the packet of pictures she’d picked up the day she and Slade had stopped at the hardware store. She’d held the envelope in her hand, but hadn’t found the courage to look at the last photos she’d taken of Bobby. So she’d put the packet in her nightstand in her bedroom. Last night, she’d slept on the floor of the master bedroom with Slade and hadn’t given the pictures a thought.

Would he ever hold her like that again?

She’d have to get away somehow, to mislead Craig and do a good job of it or, by the look of him, he’d hurt her. He’d killed two people already. And if he got ahold of those pictures and negatives and destroyed them, she’d have no proof that he’d been the shooter that fateful morning.

“I don’t remember where I put them, Craig. I was in a hurry the day I picked them up. There was a hurricane coming. Pictures were the last thing on my mind.” Then, as if struck by a thought, she looked up. “Oh, I’ll bet I left them in the glove compartment of the Buick. I made several stops that day and …”