Getting Rid of Bradley (21 page)

And when she knew that, she’d have a new life, one with Zack this time, full of laughter and promise.

But first she needed to know what had happened.

Zack looked back at Bradley one more time. “All right. I’ll wait outside. You have half an hour.”

And then he was gone, out the front door.

Lucy took a deep breath. “Come on,” she said to Bradley. “I’ll make you a cup of tea. Two sugars.”

Zack sat in his car in front of Lucy’s house and seethed.

Something was wrong. It wasn’t jealousy. Okay, he was jealous as hell, but that wasn’t it. He knew

Lucy wasn’t going back to Bradley. He knew she’d stay with him. At least, he was pretty sure she

would. Hell, they’d adopted a dog together.

Think,he told himself. What was wrong with Bradley? He’d felt uneasy before he’d met Bradley, but

afterward, he’d been crazy with suspicion. So it was something Bradley had said. Or done. And all he

had to do was go through everything word by word, movement by movement, until he figured it out.

Fast.

Lucy was uneasy.

There was something really wrong with Bradley. He kept looking at her like she was some precious

treasure he’d lost and found, and, worse, he kept talking that way, too, in spite of everything she’d said.

“It’s good to be home.” Bradley surveyed the kitchen. “Where’s the table? What happened to the

floor?”

“It...came up.” Lucy took a mug from the shelf and filled it with water, trying to think of how to get the

answers she needed. Two weeks with Zack had taught her the futility of subtlety, so she put the mug of

water in the microwave for his tea, punched the button, and then turned to face him. “Bradley, what’s

been going on?”

He frowned at her, annoyed by her directness. “It’s very simple, really. An old friend of mine from high

school came into town and asked for help.”

“John Bradley.”

“We called him J.B. in high school.”

“He was an embezzler,” Lucy said.

Bradley suddenly grew remote. “Unfortunately, I didn’t know he’d broken the law. All I did was help an

old friend.”

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“How?”

He frowned at her. “I arranged a hotel room for him.”

“In Overlook?”

Bradley’s frown deepened. “He didn’t have much money. I offered to lend him some, but he refused.

J.B. was always very proud.”

“He had money,” Lucy said, folding her arms. “He had almost a million and a half in government bonds.”

“He didn’t tell me that.” Bradley was visibly angry with her now, annoyed that his statement had been

questioned, and Lucy fought the coldness that his anger always drenched her in.

He couldn’t do that anymore. Zack was going to keep her warm forever.

“You knew,” she said calmly. “You put them in a safe deposit box.”

“Once he told me he had them, of course, I did.” Bradley was rigid with anger now. “It was the only

prudent thing to do. I can’t understand how you could even question that.”

“I’m not questioning it,” Lucy said. “I’m amazed by it. Where did you think he’d gotten that many

bonds? K Mart?”

“Really, Lucy—” Bradley began, and she interrupted him, fueled as much by his anger as by hers.

“So how does the blonde figure into this?” Lucy said, glaring at him. “You know, his wife. The one

you...”

“So that’s it.” Bradley’s anger disappeared. “You’re still upset about that.”

“Well,of course, I’m still upset about that. I—”

“She lied.”

Lucy stopped, dumbfounded. “What?”

“She lied,” Bradley said. “She wanted to force me to tell her where J.B. was, so she said if I didn’t,

she’d tell you that ridiculous story, that we’d been...together. I told her not to bother. I told her you’d

never believe her.” Bradley’s eyes were suddenly hurt and accusing. “And you believed her.”

“Bradley, she described my bedroom,” Lucy said, trying to keep her temper. “And you didn’t say one

word. Not one.”

“I told you I could explain. You wouldn’t listen.”

“I listened,” Lucy said. “You didn’t explain. You said you would, and then you just stood there.”

The microwave beeped, and Lucy took the mug out and plopped a tea bag in it before she shoved it at

Bradley. Water slopped over the edge.

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Bradley took the cup and watched the water drip off it. “A wife who loves and trusts her husband

believes him without an explanation,” he said, not looking at her at all.

“Not in this century,” Lucy said, and when he didn’t say anything, she went on. “So you never had an

affair at all. And I’ve gone through all this pain and all this soul-searching for nothing.”

“You should have trusted me. You know how much I love you.” He looked up at her. “I was going to

tell you the day of the divorce. Bianca said she’d meet me at the diner if I brought J.B. and then she’d

explain it all to you. But she didn’t come. We watched from across the street, but she didn’t come. It

seemed like no matter how hard I tried, things just got worse. I thought for sure if she’d come...” He

stopped, and Lucy felt almost sorry for him, he sounded so trapped and frustrated. Then his voice

changed. “And then we saw you with that man. J.B. said he was from the police.” He frowned at her,

cold and remote again. “You were with another man.”

“He was asking me questions about your friend,” Lucy said. “About J.B. Bianca had telephoned him that

J.B. would be there.”

She was a terrible woman, Bradley said, “She wanted the bonds, and she thought she could get them if

J.B. was arrested.” He put his tea down on the counter untouched and leaned forward to take her hand,

speaking to her earnestly but without warmth, as if she were an important depositor at the bank. “But it

doesn’t matter now. What matters is that we’re back together again. From now on, you’ll trust me. We’ll

be fine.”

“No,” Lucy said gently. “We’re divorced.”

Bradley tightened his grip on her hand. “We’ll get married again.”

“No,” Lucy said, not gently, and tried to pull her hand away. “We won’t.”

Bradley gripped her hand even harder, and she winced. “I know you’ve been upset with me. But it’s

over now. It’s just us. They’re both gone, J.B. and the policeman. I’m back, Lucy. And I’ve missed you

so much.”

Lucy heard the determination in his voice and opened her mouth to tell him firmly to get lost. Then she

looked in his eyes and saw something she hadn’t expected to see.

Passion. Not sexual passion, but a blinding, possessive, obsessive passion for her, all the same.

She closed her mouth and blinked instead.

Zack went over the conversation for the millionth time. “Thank you very much for helping my wife.”

Zack glowered at that memory. Claiming her as his wife and then bitching at her for throwing his stuff on

the lawn and in the basement. He was lucky she hadn’t thrown it in the river. Zack pictured Bradley’s

face when he’d seen his clothes all over the lawn. It was petty, but it helped.

It couldn’t have been pretty seeing his chair smashed at the bottom of the basement stairs, either....

Zack froze.

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When had Bradley seen his chair at the bottom of the basement stairs? Lucy had done that after the

locks were on.

He hadn’t been in Kentucky.

He’d been in the house.

He’d helped John Bradley set the bomb.

And now he was in there alone with Lucy.

Zack started to get out of the car so he could kick down Lucy’s front door, but then he stopped.

“He was crazy about her,” Deborah had said. “He could be very jealous,” Lucy had said. “He wasn’t

really sane when it came to Lucy,” Tina had said.

Zack closed the car door quietly and walked around to the back of the house.

“I can’t, Bradley,” Lucy said, trying to sound calm. “I’m sorry. I can’t go back to you. It’s over.” She

tried again to disentangle her hand from his, but he held on tight.

“This is because of that detective, isn’t it?” Bradley clenched his lips until there was a white line around

his mouth. “You even dyed your hair for him—”

“I really dyed my hair for me,” Lucy temporized while she tried to think of something soothing to say, but

Bradley plunged on, not listening.

“—so he wouldn’t have to wake up in the morning and see you with brown hair.”

“Green,” Lucy said automatically and then raised her eyes to his face, startled.

“I loved you with brown hair,” Bradley said.

“You read my note,” Lucy said around the icy lump that suddenly filled her throat. “You read it, and you

took it.”

Bradley stepped closer, and she took a step back, bumping into the counter. “You don’t need to change

for me.”

“You were here,” Lucy said. “You helped that man put a bomb in my bed.”

Bradley shook his head. “It wasn’t supposed to hurt you. J.B. was going to call you and warn you about

the bomb so you’d be scared and leave. But the phone was busy.”

“That bomb had a hair-trigger fuse,” Lucy said, her voice shaky with fear and anger. “Anything would

have set it off. It could have killed me.”

“I wouldn’t have let him hurt you.” Bradley blocked her against the counter. “I love you.”

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“No,” Lucy said, trying to push him away. “No, you don’t. You don’t even know who I am.”

“I know who you are.” Bradley’s jaw clenched so that he could hardly speak. “You’re my wife.” He

shoved her arms away from him and pulled her to him before she could protest, and then he kissed her

with as much passion as he could.

It was horrible.

Bradley had to have gotten in somehow.

Zack prowled around the outside of the house, trying to think how Bradley could have breached the

security of Tina’s locks. They were all fine. He’d tried every one, and now he was back at the basement

doors. He yanked on the locks again, but they held.

“This makes no sense,” he said aloud, and then out of the corner of his eye he saw a flash of yellow fur.

He spun on his heel, startling Phoebe, who stopped practically in mid-leap. “Back off, you furry little

bitch,” Zack snarled. “I’m not in the mood.”

Phoebe snarled back at him and leaped away.

Oh, good. He was up against insane house cats now. Lucy took care of armed men, and he repelled

flea-bitten unhinged...

He stopped in mid-thought.

Unhinged.

He reached down for the door and, this time, instead of tugging at the center of the bars, he tugged on

the hinges to the left.

Nothing.

But when he pulled on the hinges to the right, they lifted away, the double doors fused together with

Tina’s locks, swinging up smoothly on the left-hand hinges.

Bingo. Zack started down the stairs.

So did Phoebe.

Lucy ducked away, shoving hard to break Bradley’s hold. “No.Stop it.”

“It’s that policeman, isn’t it?” Bradley’s face was wooden, but he let go of her.

Lucy backed into the corner of the kitchen nearest the door, giving herself an escape route. “No,

Bradley, it’s you. You let that man in here to bomb this house and try to kill me. You knew he was

dangerous. He shot his wife. You knew that.”

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Bradley stepped forward to reach for her again, and Lucy stepped back, grabbing the back-door knob,

and then they both froze, trapped by the scream of a cat in the basement.

“That’s Phoebe.” Lucy moved toward the basement door. “How did she get in the basement?”

“I know,” Bradley said, and when she turned he was holding a gun.

“Bradley?” Her voice came in a squeak.

“Get away from the door,” he said calmly. “There’s a prowler down there.”

Lucy edged away from the door, praying Bradley wasn’t the type to hold a grudge. How rude had she

been?

How out of touch was he?

He moved slowly toward the basement door, like an avalanche gathering speed. Just before he opened

the door, he stopped and looked at her. “You stay here. We still need to talk.”

“Right,” Lucy said, bobbing her head frantically. “You bet.”

Stifling his scream when Phoebe went for his leg had been one of the hardest things Zack had ever done,

but he’d managed it, smacking her away with his fist and provoking a scream from her that could have

peeled paint. She ran back up the stairs to the outside, and he froze for a moment until he was sure no

one had heard.

He was on the first step up the stairs to the kitchen when Bradley opened the door and pointed the gun

at him.

“Back.” Bradley let the basement door swing closed behind him, and then he walked carefully down the

stairs until he was halfway to the bottom.

“Where’s Lucy?” Zack asked, backing away. “Is she...”

“Forget Lucy,” Bradley said coldly. “Lucy is my wife. She’s staying with me.”

Zack tried to think. Present tense was a good sign.

Maybe he’d sent her out for milk. Maybe she wasn’t bleeding to death on the kitchen floor.

He hadn’t heard any shots.

“I’m going to have to kill you.” Bradley sounded as if he wasn’t positive that killing Zack was a good

idea, but he was willing to chance it.