Not What She Seems (29 page)

Emily whispered, “Richard.”

Chapter Thirty Seven

Steven felt the knife point pressing into his throat. He gasped for air.

Emily’s voice trembled. “What are you doing here, Richard?”

Richard’s voice came out raspy. “I’ve come here to save you,
Em
.”

Emily stood on the landing, like a stunned deer waiting for a predator to pounce. She blinked several times, and seemed to force herself to speak. “Save me from what?”

“From him.”
The knife dug a little deeper into Steven’s throat, and he stiffened at the sharp pain.

“So you’re going to kill Steven like you killed William?”

Richard’s grip tightened. “I didn’t kill William.”

Emily spoke softly and deliberately. “Richard, you don’t have to lie to me.”

He returned her soft tone. “I wouldn’t lie to you,
Em
. I didn’t kill William. When I arrived, the ambulance was already there. I could see them placing William’s body on a stretcher through that large front window of yours. I swear I didn’t kill him. But I would have. They’re all the same. We’ve got to get away from them,
Em
. Don’t you see? All they do is hurt you.”

“Steven isn’t like that.” Emily clenched and released her fists several times before easing up one step. “He would never hurt me like William did. He’s not like William at all.”

“Of course he is. Just look at him. He thinks he can have whatever he wants. But he can’t have you. No one can. Now go get in the car. I’ll take care of everything.”

“No.” Emily took another step up. “I’m not leaving.”

“Pack your bags and get in the car!”

Her eyes widened, and her mouth opened. She grasped the railing and slid up another step. “Richard, I’m fine. Look at me. No one is hitting me anymore. I know you want to save me, like you wanted to save… her. But you can’t change what happened.”

Richard pointed the knife at Emily, allowing Steven to breathe freely. “Don’t. I know what you’re trying to do. It won’t work.”

Emily now stood on the attic floor. “I know how you packed her bags for her, for your mother, when you were only ten years old. You wanted her to leave with you, didn’t you?”

His grip on Steven loosened. “Yes. But she was stupid.
Just like you’re being stupid.”

Steven thought he might be able to wiggle free, but saw Emily hold her hand out a bit, and took it to mean for him to stay still. Emily moved a little closer. “You put her bags in the car, and got her to follow you out there. But she didn’t want to leave, did she?”

Richard stiffened, and pulled Steven closer to him, putting the knife at his throat again. “She wanted to stay… with him. Two weeks later she died. He beat her to death. She would have been fine if she had come with me. All she had to do was leave. But she refused to.”

Emily took another step closer. “You did everything you could.” She held out her hand. “Give me the knife, Richard.”

“No!” Richard flipped the knife around, so the point was aimed at Steven’s chest. With his head free to move, Steven whipped it back, connecting with Richard’s face. The grip on him loosened, and he swung around, the ropes cutting deeper into his wrists. Richard’s nose began to bleed. He plunged the knife toward Steven’s chest. Steven managed to turn, catching the knife in his arm. Pain seared through his shoulder.

Emily screamed. Blood soaked through his sleeve. Sirens sounded from the street below.

Richard threw Steven to the floor. Incredible pain shot down his arm. He struggled against the ropes, but couldn’t break free.

Richard grabbed Emily, and started down the stairs. Noises banged from the first floor.

“What did you do?” Richard shouted.

Police officers swarmed up the attic stairs, their guns aimed at Richard. He let Emily go, and held up his hands.

Emily rushed over to Steven. “Call an ambulance,” she cried out.

******

Emily leaned against Steven as their flight took off, his good arm wrapped around her shoulders, his other arm bandaged and in a sling. They were taking Steven’s private jet back to Stapleton.

“I’m so sorry I got you into this mess.”

Steven’s soft chuckle surprised her. “You didn’t get me into anything I didn’t want to be into.” He kissed the top of her head.

She looked up, into his eyes, and he leaned in, brushing his lips against hers. The sensation sent sparks of electricity through her. She responded back, and the kiss deepened. He pulled back, smiling at her.

They snuggled for a moment before Steven spoke. “One thing I can’t understand, though, is why Richard would admit to killing your parents, and his Grandmother, but lie about killing William.”

Emily tensed. “I’ve been thinking about that too. I don’t think he did lie. I believe he was telling the truth.”

Steven’s eyebrows knit together. “So, you think Samantha killed William after all?”

“I don’t know.” Emily twisted her hands together. “There’s something that’s been bugging me about what Richard said. And I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

“Well, maybe it will come to you.”

Steven started tracing her fingers with his, sending more sparks through her. “I think it has to do with what he said about seeing William dead. But I don’t know why that doesn’t make sense to me. The large picture window in the front of the house would give anyone on the street a great view of the living room.”

Steven continued to play with her fingers, a slight smile on his face.

She closed her eyes, trying to picture that day. The day she’d forced out of her memory for so long. The day her husband died. He was drunk that afternoon, picking on her for running the vacuum. She’d tried to ignore him, but he came at her. Wait, she remembered vacuuming, and looking out the window. For some reason she couldn’t see out the window.

She sat up straight in her chair. “I know what it is! It’s the window. I couldn’t see outside that day. The bush was so overgrown that I could hardly see anything. Richard couldn’t possibly have seen inside the house.”

Steven brought her hand to his face and started kissing her fingers playfully. She pulled away. “Stop it, this is important!”

“What if he trimmed the bushes before he died?” Steven smiled.

“William? Do yard work? Yeah, right. No, he wouldn’t be caught dead doing the yard work and yes, I know what I just said and it’s not funny.”

Steven’s laugh filled the small plane. “You have to admit that was funny.”

Emily rolled her eyes. “But listen, seriously, I did all the yard work. Except for when he
weaseled
Vincent into doing it.”

Steven sat up. “What?”

“I did all the work around the house.”

“No, what did you say about Vincent doing the yard work?”

“Oh, well he would get Vincent to come over and…” Her voice trailed off as she sat, stunned. “Vincent. He was there that day.” A slow cold crept over her, and she grasped the arms of her chair. “Steven, we’ve got to get to Connor right now.”

Chapter Thirty Eight

Steven drove as fast as he dared on the slick
Minnesota
streets. With the darkness, it was hard to see the icy patches. Emily sat beside him, her hands gripping the seat, her lips trembling. A cold silence had fallen between them. The clock on the dashboard read
eight thirty six
.

The acid in Steven’s stomach churned. He pulled up to Vincent’s house. The windows were deathly dark. There was no sign of Vincent’s car.

Emily dashed out of the vehicle, and up the walkway, her scarf flowing behind her in the wind. Steven followed her up to the house, dread settling in him.

Emily had the house unlocked within seconds. They burst into the dark entryway, and ran to the bedroom where she and Connor had been sleeping. It was empty. Emily’s eyes were wide, her voice almost screeching, “They’re not here.”

Steven grasped her shoulders. “Calm down. I’m sure Connor’s fine. It looks like they just went out. Why don’t we call Vincent’s cell phone?”

Emily nodded, putting her hands up to her cheeks. Steven flipped open his phone, and scrolled through his call log until he found one from Vincent.

The empty ringing seemed to take forever before Vincent’s husky voice came on.

“Vincent, this is Steven. I’ve brought Emily back to town, and we’re at your house. Where are you and Connor?”

“We’re at Edna’s house. She invited us over for dinner.”

Relief rushed through him. “Do you mind if we come get Connor?”

“That’s fine. He’s just watching the end of Frosty the Snowman.”

Steven snapped his phone shut. “They’re at Edna’s. Connor’s all right. Let’s go get him.”

******

Emily walked briskly up the sidewalk clutching Steven’s arm. Edna had lined her walkway with lit up candy canes, and framed her door with little colored lights. Icicles hung from the roof. Emily pressed the doorbell, and stood back, anxiety twitching through her.

The door opened, and Edna greeted them with a warm smile. “Come in, dear. How was your flight?”

Connor ran into the doorway, and Emily exhaled.
“Mommy!”
Connor cried. “You’re here.”

Emily scooped Connor up into a large bear hug and entered the house. Steven followed after her. Vincent sat on the couch, his arms resting on the back. His eyebrows shot up when he looked at Steven, probably because of the sling. “The flight was fine, Edna. How are you doing?”

Edna patted her hair, her red curls looking like they spent the day under a hairnet. “I’m looking forward to the holidays. I’m closing up early Christmas Eve, and taking Christmas day off.”

“That will be a nice break for you,” Steven said.

“I’ll have time to catch my breath.” Edna folded her arms across her chest.

Vincent stood. “Well, it’s getting late. Emily and I should be getting back to my house.”

Anger boiled up inside of her. “I’m going to stay at a hotel tonight, Vincent. I don’t want to put you out anymore.”

Vincent frowned. He brushed his hand over his mustache, his dark eyebrows knit together. “You’re not putting me out.”

“Well, you’ve done enough. Thank you, but I’m taking Connor to a hotel.” Connor began to wiggle, so she set him down.

Connor tugged on her coat. “Mommy, I have to go to the bathroom.”

Edna smiled. “I’ll show him where it is. It’s just down the hall.”

An awkward silence settled in. Vincent shifted his weight. Emily couldn’t stand it anymore. As soon as Edna was out of sight, she said, “You’ve been lying. You were there the day William died, weren’t you?”

Vincent’s cheeks flushed. “What? What are you talking about?”

“Don’t deny it. You were there. I know you were.” She took a deep breath, and tried to calm down. “Just admit it.”

“Okay. I was there. But I didn’t really lie about it. The subject just never came up.”

Emily resisted the urge to punch him. Instead, she lowered her voice. “You killed William. You were always jealous of him. Admit it. You killed him and let me take the blame.”

Steven stepped forward. “Emily, maybe we should–”

“What? How could you think that I could do such a thing?” Vincent clenched his fists, narrowing his eyes. “I loved William. He was the closest thing I ever had to a brother.”

For some reason, the words stung Emily. She blinked, staring at Vincent. His cool grey eyes stared back. Eyes like she’d seen staring up at her for the past four years. “What did you say?”

“I said I loved William like a brother.”

Emily gasped. “You and William… you were brothers.”

Vincent’s gaze flickered over to the hallway. “Hush. I think we should talk about this somewhere else.”

Understanding dawned on Emily like rays of the morning sun. “I get it now. Why you were always hanging around William.”

“Emily,” Vincent hissed, grabbing her arm. “We should talk about this later.”

She yanked her arm away from his grasp, gritting her teeth. “No. I want to know. Tell me.”

Vincent glanced at the hallway once more before speaking in hushed tones. “Yes. William was my half brother.”

“Theodore—he’s your biological father.”

“Yes.”

“Have you known, all this time?”

He shook his head. “No. William found out when he was eighteen. He was searching through some papers at work and found my birth certificate. That’s when he told me. Theodore doesn’t know that I found out. Please don’t tell him. It would make things… awkward between us.”

Emily’s head swam. “Theodore doesn’t know? But how…”

“Listen, I want to make this clear.” Vincent stepped closer. “Theodore has treated me like family from day one. Even if I wasn’t his biological son, I would think of him as a father to me. I would never do anything to hurt him,
including
murdering his son.”