For the Sake of Their Baby (26 page)

Despite the gun, Liz tried to turn, to look into his eyes, to demand an explanation even though the logical one seemed all too clear.

“Ron—”

“Ssh,” he said as if to comfort a child.

She stumbled down a couple of stairs, but he caught her arm and pulled her back. “Not so fast,” he said in that same warm tone. “You aren’t going anywhere. Fact is, Liz, you’re a hard woman to kill, but all’s well that ends well.”

The gun trained right at her belly, he scooted one can inside and then the other, directing her to lift the satchel and come back into the house. Though she knew she couldn’t outrun a bullet, the thought of flight entered her mind. In the next instant, she knew she couldn’t try. Ron wasn’t as scattered as Emily, and in this instance, she didn’t have a head start. As long as there was a possibility of survival, she had to keep her head.

Prodded with the gun, hoping against hope that an
opportunity to save herself would arise, she shuffled back through the house. Could she swing the satchel and knock Ron off his feet before he shot her? He stayed far enough back that she knew she couldn’t. Besides, the bag was too light to do any damage.

“Drop the satchel and sit in that exquisite Louis XVI chair,” Ron said once they re-entered the den. As the realization of what he had in mind burned in her head, he pulled several lengths of rope from the satchel.

“No!” she said. “I won’t. Ron, we’re friends—”

He laughed as he lowered the weapon to her swollen belly. “Sit down, friend,” he said.

He tied her hands to the arms of the chair and her feet together at the ankles. It looked to Liz like Alex’s rope, stained with the dirt from their bluff.

Ron tightened the knots until they bit into her flesh. He patted her stomach and she reeled with disgust. “Too bad about the baby,” he said, “but we don’t need a little heir hanging around now, do we?”

Gasping with fright, she babbled, “Ron, if it’s money—”

“Too little, too late,” he said.

He took off his long coat and draped it over a chair, then splashed gasoline out of the first can. Tears rolled down Liz’s cheeks and her heart pounded with the futile instinct to run. She twisted her neck and craned to see as Ron picked up the second can and moved across the foyer, his footsteps echoing on the floor. He quickly doused that room as well, tossed the can aside and threw in a lit match. Flames blossomed at once.

“Nice tall ceilings, plenty of air to get a good fire going before a window blows and the fire is reported,” he mused as he came back into the den. “Shame to destroy all these expensive things. Your uncle’s collec
tion is so delightfully eclectic. Just about breaks my heart.”

“Ron—”

“By the way,” he added, “I bought these cans in Meyer’s Junction. My shirt with the Ocean Bluff Fire Dept. insignia on the front and the cap with the same logo pulled down low over my face was all the clerk ever really noticed about me. Well, that and the fact that I talked about my darling wife, Liz. When Alex is convicted of murdering you for your money, he won’t be able to inherit a penny.”

“Ron,” Liz said, nauseous now from the fumes, the smoke and the abject terror she could feel crawling inside her skin like fire ants. “Ron, think. You can’t inherit anything from me. You’re not in my will. This is pointless—”

He held up a finger. “I can’t inherit, but the estate of my dear departed sister can and I happen to be
her
sole beneficiary. Now, I admit, her dying before you is tricky, but since you’ll die before your baby is born, Alex will be your only heir and he’ll be ineligible. I believe I can make a good case and at this point, what have I got to lose?”

Liz had a moment of insight. “Emily’s middle name is Irene. It was on her lease application.”

“My dear mother gave her first-born child her own name as a middle name. Couldn’t use the last name of Hiller because your uncle wouldn’t have a thing to do with either of them. After Mother died, I found the letters she’d kept and a copy of the birth certificate. That’s when I moved here.”

Liz was close to choking on her own fear. “Emily could have told me—”

A derisive laugh was followed by a snort. “Emily
never knew. The knowledge and proof of the identity of her real father was like money in the bank and you don’t trust money in the bank to a loose screw like Emily.”

“So you approached my uncle?”

“A most disagreeable man. Told me to get lost. Told me he would amend his will to specifically
exclude
Emily. I thought, well, I’ll wait until the old guy dies and then approach Liz. But you got pregnant and your uncle threatened to give the whole ball of wax to a few birds and some fish. Obviously, he had to go. Right away. I couldn’t believe my luck when you showed up later that night, right as I was getting ready to strangle the old goat.”

“You framed me.”

“Alex almost screwed it up when he took the blame. Still, with Emily’s prodding, you were close to a divorce and I was making headway in the marry Liz campaign, so I wasn’t too worried. My plan was to wait until your divorce was final, but then Alex got out. I had Emily pretend to be from the sheriff’s department and call you. She was such a romantic, that girl, and so pitifully easy to manipulate. By the end, she thought she killed your uncle and that the best way to make sure you loved me was for her to kill Alex. Frankly, I didn’t care which one of you died on those stairs. If it had been Alex, I’d have let it slip little Emily was really your uncle’s daughter. I knew you well enough by then to know you’d fall all over yourself making sure she got her fair share. If it was you, Alex would look guilty as hell and be convicted of killing you as well as your uncle. Either way, Emily would inherit, and I’d be set.”

“But you left your gloves and took Alex’s.”

Ron laughed. “No one is perfect. Unfortunately, neither of you died. Emily knew I didn’t go home with her
the night of your uncle’s party and I think she always suspected I’d swiped the green scarf from her after she swiped it from you. She knew about me taking my bike out at late hours and about my absences. As they say, she might have been crazy, but she wasn’t stupid.”

“You used her.”

“You bet I did. She was so doped up on medication, she didn’t know who did what to who. Now, I admit giving her that gun wasn’t my best idea—I mean, she was supposed to eliminate Alex, but instead came close to gunning you down. That would have wreaked havoc with the inheritance angle. Thankfully, she killed herself. Now, let’s see, are we through here because that fire is getting serious.”

Liz struggled against the ropes, seeing in her mind’s eye the drawings from her childhood, seeing the tiny figures caught in crayon flames. He wrapped the carriage clock and Fabergé egg carefully in separate cloths, then working quickly, scooped up a few of the enamels and the ivory. Zipping the satchel closed, he looked around the room.

“Listen to me, Ron,” she begged. “No one will ever believe Alex killed me. He’s fighting a fire, everyone knows exactly where he is.”

“You mean that big fire in Old Town, the one he just now is figuring out doesn’t exist? The call he’ll puzzle over as his former colleagues tell him to get lost? The false call it will appear he tried to use as an alibi?” He put on his overcoat and took a book of matches out of his pocket.

“They’ll trace the call—”

“Made from a pay phone,” he said as he came back into the den, “just like the call Kapp received the night your uncle died. Who’s to say Alex didn’t call himself
to cement his alibi? After all, he’s an opportunist. Everyone knows you can’t expect much from a Chase.”

“Then someone saw you come through the front door—”

“Who says I came through the front door? Did you see me? Actually, I came in the back way. Give it up, Liz.”

The actual flames were beginning to catch up with those of her imagination. “Don’t leave me and my baby here to burn to death,” she cried. “Please, Ron—”

He took out his gun and smiled at her. “Would you rather be shot?”

She stared at the gun.

“See, that’s the thing about people. Any chance is better than no chance, right? Besides, I know about your history with fire. Don’t they say the best way to conquer your fear is to face it?”

He turned then, so anxious to flee that he didn’t take into account the location of the now heavy satchel and it tripped him. Down he went, bracing himself with his hands. As he hit, the gun spiraled toward Liz. Ron screamed curses. He’d fallen right into the shattered glass from the broken bowl. Jagged shards pierced his palms, sending bright red blood streaming under the cuffs of his overcoat.

The gun skittered to a stop by Liz’s bound feet. She quickly nudged it out of sight with her toes and then rested her feet on it.

She watched Ron stand, search the floor for the gun, tug at the glass in his hands, swear as the deep cuts bled profusely. Liz’s gaze followed his to the living room where the blaze he’d started precious minutes earlier now raged, sending smoke and waves of heat across the foyer.

Ron seemed to weigh the problem of his gun turning up in the fire investigation against the possibility of ending up caught in his own trap. Finally, bloody hands trembling, he managed to light a new match and throw it at the gasoline soaked drapes. As they burst into flames, Liz turned her face away.

And in that moment, her body decided it was time for her baby to abandon ship. A sharp, painful cramp rolled across her abdomen. The heat and pain joined forces, one threatening to destroy her from the outside, the other threatening to tear her apart from the inside, her mind darting between the two, trying to regain control.

As Ron gingerly picked up the satchel again, Liz took shallow breaths, trying to hide her baby’s struggle to live from the man determined to make sure it died. She thought about Alex being blamed for their murder, spending the rest of his life in prison, blaming himself even if the courts somehow let him go. She thought about all she had and all she stood to lose. And she thought of dying without her wedding band, without telling Alex how much she loved him, how much she needed him, how sorry she was that it had taken her so long to realize that she’d always been able to trust him when it came to the truly important things, when it came to his love and devotion.

With strength born of anger and desperation, she kicked the gun toward the fire.

Ron dived to intercept it.

Another pain shot through Liz’s body as the gun powder exploded.

Chapter Fourteen

“Whose idea of a joke is this?” Alex demanded of the nine men who sat staring at him in the day room of the fire station.

Dave tried to pull Alex away, but Alex stood his ground. “I want to know which one of you thought it funny to call me to a fake fire!”

Dave said, “You know none of us would do something like that. Think, Alex.”

And just like that, Alex understood that this was still another ruse to get Liz alone and he’d fallen for it. Kapp!

He turned on his heels just as Battalion Chief Montgomery came hurrying into the room. “Fire at the old Hiller place,” he shouted, running down the stairs as the alarm sounded. All nine men jumped to their feet and using the pole or the stairs, descended to the engines below.

Liz was still at that house. He had no proof, but deep in his gut, deep in his heart, Alex knew it was so. He caught up with the chief as he started his truck. Jumping in the passenger seat, he yelled, “I’m going with you.”

The chief paused for half a second, then tore out of the station. Before long, the sounds of sirens ripped through the air.

B
ATTALION
C
HIEF
Montgomery talked on the radio as they raced through the city, communicating with both the arriving units and dispatch. All Alex could think of was Liz caught in flames, her worst childhood fear come to life. Would she have the strength to hold on until he found her? Was she already dead? His heart screamed.

He heard the chief say, “Well, at least it’s empty.”

“Listen to me,” Alex demanded. “Liz and I were both in this house less than an hour ago. She’s still there, I can feel it in my bones. When we get there—”

“You listen to me,” Montgomery said, eyes blazing. “This is my fire. You don’t know for sure where Liz is. Stay in this truck and out of the way. If Liz is there, we’ll find her.”

Alex clamped his jaw shut, but even before the truck came to a halt, he jumped out. The living room side of the house was ablaze and flames showed through the windows on the den side. Around him he heard the fire engines rolling to a stop, he saw pedestrians standing, pointing, insisting they’d heard an explosion, he heard the chief shouting orders, firemen unwinding hoses, but he paid little attention.

The fire was going to be fought as though the building was abandoned. He tried yet again to catch the chief’s attention, but Montgomery shrugged him off. Alex knew the chief wouldn’t risk his men when there was no evidence of occupation. Well, he wasn’t one of Montgomery’s men, was he?

Montgomery had assigned designations to the house, and now moved around to the back, preoccupied in his attempt to save property. The reflective lettering on his incident commander’s vest made tracking him easy. Alex knew where on the truck to find equipment and he knew the house layout. He would bet his life Liz was in
the den, right at the place where this whole nightmare had started.

He heard a new siren, and turned in time to see the sheriff’s car squeal to a stop. Kapp! What was he doing here? In one instant, Alex answered his own question. The sheriff had started the fire and come back to watch it.

Alex longed to tear through the crowd and force Kapp to reveal what he’d done to Liz but he realized the sheriff still held the power to restrain him, and if Alex planned on getting in that house and saving his wife, he’d better do it before Kapp made a move to stop him.

He grabbed an ax and a spare set of turnouts, pulling on the gear and boots as fast as he could, rushing the front door while yells and shouts followed him.

The door was hot and locked and Alex started in with the ax. He sensed someone approaching and tensed, ready to fight if need be, but it was Dave who stood there, ax in hand, Dave who joined him in destroying the door.