Eye of the Beholder (2 page)

Crawford had been everything that Lloyd was not, a rakish, dashing, larger-than-life figure who lived life on the edge.

Her father would have been able to deal with Trask, Alexa thought. But staid, steady, unflappable Lloyd probably didn't stand a chance.

Trask's accusations were nothing but crazy talk, she told herself. Lloyd would never harm anyone.

She had to get to the phone.

The nearest instrument was at the foot of the stairs. With an enormous effort of will, she fought through the temporary paralysis. She went silently, cautiously, down the steps.

“It was raining that night.” Lloyd's voice was calm, infused with reason. “This is what we call our monsoon season. Downpours are common. That stretch of the road is treacherous. Everyone around here knows that. I've always said that portion of Cliff Drive should be closed during a storm.”

“The rain had passed by the time Dad got into the car,” Trask said. “I checked with the cops.”

“The roads were still wet. Even the best driver can make a mistake.”

“This was no mistake,” Trask said. “I know all about the partnership between the three of you. And I know about the offer from that hotel chain. Dad was murdered because someone wanted him out of the way.”

Alexa realized he believed every word he said. She knew that he was wrong, at least about Lloyd. But Trask was clearly convinced that his father had been murdered.

She sensed her mother's presence on the steps behind her. She glanced over her shoulder. Vivien's fine-boned, ascetic face was taut with anxiety as she listened to the two men quarrel.

“You think I was involved in some kind of bizarre conspiracy to kill your father?” Lloyd's voice rose in disbelief. “That's outrageous.”

“I looked through some of Dad's papers this afternoon. I heard about the quarrel at the country club the night he died. It didn't take me long to put it all together.”

“Business
partners sometimes disagree. It's a fact of life, son.”

“That argument was more than a disagreement. I talked to the bartender at the club. He said the three of you nearly came to blows.”

“Guthrie gets a little hotheaded when he drinks,” Lloyd admitted. “But I restrained him. There was no physical stuff.”

“Maybe not then. But you and Guthrie knew that Dad would never agree to sell the Avalon Mansion property to that chain. So one of you found a way to get rid of him.”

“Damn it, I've had enough.” Lloyd's voice hardened. “I'm trying to be patient. I know you've had a hellish few days, and I know you've got a lot of responsibility to shoulder. But you're going too far here.”

“Believe me, Kenyon, I haven't even started.”

“You're going to have to get your priorities straight, Trask. You've got your brother to think about. He's only seventeen, and you're all the family that boy has left in the world.”

“Thanks to you or Guthrie.”

“That's a damn lie. When you come to your senses and calm down, you'll see that. Meanwhile, you'd better start thinking about the future. You've got your work cut out.”

“Don't talk to me about my
work
, you son-of-a-bitch.”

“Someone better talk to you about it. You're going to have to get through the fallout from your father's bankruptcy and take care of your brother at the same time. That's a man-sized job. You need to get focused and stay that way. You can't afford
to waste your energy chasing a wild conspiracy fantasy.”

“I don't need you to tell me what I have to do, Kenyon. I'll take care of Nathan, and I'll take care of myself. But one day I'll find out what really happened at Avalon Point the night Dad died.”

Alexa reached the bottom of the stairs. Neither man noticed her. They were intent only on each other. Lloyd had his back to her as he confronted Trask.

This was the first time she had seen John Laird Trask in person. She knew from what Lloyd had said that his family came from Seattle. It had been Harry Trask's plan to restore the old Avalon Mansion and turn it into a destination resort. The project had brought him to Arizona on a frequent and regular basis during the past year. His two sons had remained in Seattle.

Alexa paid little attention to Lloyd's business affairs even though he managed the inheritance she had received from her grandmother. As a result, she knew almost nothing about Harry Trask and even less about his sons.

But after tonight she knew that she would never forget John Laird Trask.

From where she stood she could see him looming in the hall, taking up far too much space. The warm glow of the overhead fixture did nothing to soften the sinister angles of his face and jaw. She could feel the energy waves of his fury.

She was only a step away from the phone now. She took a deep breath, stretched out her hand, and picked up the receiver.

“If you don't go away right now, Mr. Trask, I'm
going to call the police,” she said with a fierceness that startled her as much as it did everyone else.

Both men swung around to stare at her, but it was Trask's relentless green-gold gaze that riveted her. For an instant she could not move. Her hand clenched around the phone.

“It's all right, Alexa.” Lloyd's face gentled as he looked at her standing there with the phone clutched in her hand. “Everything is under control. Trask is leaving now. Isn't that right, Trask?”

Trask continued to watch Alexa for another second or two, as if assessing both her and her threat. Abruptly he turned away, dismissing her with a cold disdain that sent another chill through her.

“Yeah, I'm going now, Kenyon,” he said. “But one day I'll come back for the truth. And when I do, someone will pay. Count on it.”

Without another word, he walked out into the night.

A startling silence gripped the entire house for a few endless seconds.

Then Lloyd exhaled deeply and quietly closed the front door. He turned to give Alexa a reassuring smile.

“Don't worry, he didn't mean any of that nonsense.”

She thought about the pitiless determination she had seen in Trask's eyes. “Yes, he did.”

Outside a pickup truck engine roared to life.

Vivien came slowly down the stairs. “He sounded very serious, Lloyd. Do you think he might come back to cause trouble?”

“Nah. That was the pain of a young man who has just lost his father talking.” Lloyd put his arm
around his wife. He looked at Alexa with perceptive eyes. “You know what he's going through, don't you, honey?”

The phone buzzed. Alexa realized that she still held the receiver in a death grip. Slowly she replaced it. “Yes,” she said. “I guess I know how he feels.”

“He was just lashing out at the nearest target and I was it.” Lloyd shook his head. “Trask has got some tough times ahead of him. His father was a great one for dreaming up projects, but he wasn't much good at the bottom line. He left his finances in a shambles. And then there's young Nathan to worry about.”

“Do you think that Trask will be able to handle things?” Vivien asked uneasily. “He's only twenty-three years old.”

“He'll be okay.” Lloyd raised his bushy gray brows. “But I'll contact the lawyer who's handling Harry's estate in the morning and see what I can do about arranging some financial assistance.”

Alexa hugged herself and listened to the pickup roar off into the night. “Trask won't take your money, Lloyd.”

“After he calms down and realizes what he's up against, he'll see that it's the only reasonable thing to do,” Lloyd said.

“No.” Alexa thought about the savage determination that had blazed in Trask's eyes. “He won't accept any help from you or anyone else.”

“Thank heavens he's gone,” Vivien whispered. “I don't mind telling you that he scared me.”

“Once young Trask is back in Seattle he'll settle down and get on with his life,” Lloyd said.

Alexa stared at him. In the short time she had known him, she had learned that he was usually quite accurate when it came to judging people. She was amazed by his failure to comprehend the obvious.

“You're wrong,” she said. “He's gone for now. But he'll come back someday.”

1
 

Seattle, Washington
The present…

“Damn it, this isn't about opening another hotel, JL, it's about your obsession with revenge.” Nathan planted his hands on the polished glass surface of the desk and scowled at Trask through the lenses of his gold-rimmed glasses. “This is about what happened to Dad all those years ago. Admit it.”

“For the last time, I'm going to Avalon on company business.” Trask leaned back in the gray leather chair and steepled his fingers. “I thought I'd made that clear.”

Only Nathan still called him by the initials, JL. To the rest of the company and the world he was simply Trask, president and CEO of Avalon Resorts, Inc. It had been that way for five years, ever since he had left his position with Carrington-Towne Hotels to go out on his own.

“I don't like it.” Nathan shoved himself away from the desk and thrust his hands into the pockets of his trousers. He stalked to the window and stared moodily out at the soft rain that drizzled over Seattle. “You've been obsessed with that property
down in Arizona ever since you managed to buy it from Carrington-Towne two years ago.”

“I'm focused on it, not obsessed with it. There's a difference.”

“There sure as hell is, and take it from me, your attitude toward this project definitely comes under the heading of obsession. There was no good reason for us to acquire the old Avalon Mansion in the first place.”

“Yes, there was,” Trask said. “It was a steal.”

Nathan snorted. “Only because it's been a financial disaster for every hotel and resort development company that has ever tried to do anything with it. Dad wasn't the only one who went broke trying to make it work. Even Carrington-Towne decided it wasn't worth the cost of gutting the old mansion and turning it into a hotel.”

“It won't be a disaster for us,” Trask said with absolute certainty. He was not the dreamer Harry had been, but he knew that he was very good at the hotel business. “Dad always said that Avalon would eventually become the next Sedona. He was right. He was twelve years ahead of his time, but he was right.”

Nathan raised his eyes to the ceiling, apparently seeking patience from on high. “I'm not arguing the point. And I'm not saying that the new resort won't fly. Unlike Dad, you can make it work.”

“Damn right, I can make it work.” Trask felt no particular obligation to be modest about what was a simple, incontrovertible fact. “I may not be the creative type, but I know a good fantasy when I see one. And that's what we're in the business of selling. Fantasy.”

Avalon, Arizona, with its surreal landscape of sculpted red rocks, mysterious sandstone canyons, and shatteringly spectacular sunsets, had caught the attention of artists, writers, retirees, and the New Age crowd several years ago.

A handful of small inns and bed-and-breakfasts as well as a trendy metaphysical retreat called the Dimensions Institute had operated successfully for several years in Avalon. The new Avalon Resort & Spa, however, would be the first large, world-class hotel designed to attract the increasing number of tourists who had begun to discover the region.

“Avalon is going to be very hot in the next few years.” Trask watched the cold rain come down outside the window and thought of the heat of that Arizona night twelve years ago. “We'll be there to ride the wave.”

“I'm not doubting your instincts for this kind of thing.” Nathan glanced uneasily at him. “It's just that I have a feeling this property is different from the others for you. The closer we get to the opening, the weirder you get.”

“There's nothing weird about my going down for the official opening of the resort. I go to every opening.”

“Sure, but you don't make plans to hang around for a month or two afterward.”

“You know that I've been thinking that it might be a good idea for me to spend more time in the field.” Trask smiled. “What's the point of having an office and an owner's suite at each of the properties if I don't use them once in a while?”

Nathan swung around abruptly, intelligent eyes
narrowed behind the lenses of his glasses. “Let me handle the opening down in Avalon, JL.”

Trask tapped his fingers together very gently as he considered the best way to deal with his brother.

Nathan had graduated from the University of Washington with a degree in architecture. He was the creative powerhouse responsible for the unique design concepts of each Avalon Resort.

Their mother, who had died shortly after Nathan was born, had bequeathed not only her artistic flair but also her light brown hair and warm hazel eyes to her youngest son.

Women considered Nathan good-looking. He had never lacked for dates. But he had been politely oblivious to every woman who had come along until he had fallen like the proverbial ton of bricks for Sarah Howe. The two had been married within four months of meeting each other. Trask had had his reservations, the chief one being that he considered Nathan too young to marry.