See How She Dies (50 page)

She remembered slipping a mixture of Valium and sleeping pills into Kat's vodka in her hotel room on the night of her death. While Kat had been out, Eunice had slipped into the room, compliments of a key she'd lifted from Kat's purse while Kat had been in the hotel bar. She'd entered the room while Kat was still ordering drinks. It had been so easy to doctor the bottle in the room, then wait on the balcony while Kat poured herself another drink and eventually ended up in the shower.

Kat had been weak.

Losing London had nearly killed the bitch. But not quite.

She'd needed another push. Literally.

And Eunice had only been too glad to give it to her. It had been too easy to entice the pathetic woman onto the veranda.

“Mama,” Eunice said now, in the same little girl's voice she'd used to lure her nemesis onto the balcony. “Mama.” Kat had been so disoriented, she'd never realized the trap until it was too late and then her eyes had widened in terror and surprise just before Eunice sprang and pushed her over the edge.

Eunice had thought she'd gotten away with murder.

Kat's death had been written off as suicide due to depression and an unfortunate overdose.

But someone had known the truth, Eunice deduced as she picked up the vials and hypodermic needle she wanted and closed the cabinet door. The mirror slammed into place and she was suddenly staring into her own haunted eyes.

Yes, she'd wanted Kat dead.

But she'd had to live with the guilt.

And now, she suspected, someone else had known she was a murderer and was hoping she'd take the fall for Ginny Slade.

Who?

If not one of her own children, which she couldn't accept, what about Anthony or someone from the Polidori clan? Maybe this was payback for Ginny letting them take the heat for London's disappearance…no…

She frowned, deep creases showing between her eyebrows and around her lips. There was no time for speculation. She still had to deal with Adria—the one woman standing between Witt's fortune and her children. If she wouldn't scare away, then she had to die.

Even though Zach would try to intervene.

Too bad.

Eunice wasn't afraid of dying herself, but, by God, her children were going to get the legacy and inheritance that was rightfully theirs.

Even if Eunice had to commit murder again.

Even if she wouldn't get away with it this time.

Even if Zach tried to stop her.

One way or another, London Danvers was going to die.

 

It wasn't easy, but Adria and Zach managed to avoid and outrun the press even though the news was out: Adria Nash was London Danvers. The newspapers, radio and television stations had already aired the story all along the West Coast and by the time Zach and Adria arrived in Portland, the media had laid siege to the airport, the Hotel Danvers, Jason's house and even the ranch outside of Bend.

Zach had been cool, taken her hand and pulled her through the throng or reporters and cameramen at Portland International. She'd ducked into his Jeep and managed to avoid making a statement of any kind. If any reporter had followed them into the city, Zach had managed to lose them.

Sooner or later she would be forced to face them, Adria thought as the Jeep rocketed down I–84, headed into the heart of the city.

“You'd think they'd give me a minute to breathe,” she grumbled, glancing in the side-view mirror and checking out the traffic trailing behind them.

“Oh, yeah, right.” He slid her a glance as he merged into a lane for the freeway heading south. “You asked for it with that press conference.”

“I suppose.”

“You'd better get used to this,” Zach advised. “You are major news, darlin' and until someone comes along who's more newsworthy, you're going to get more attention than a single mouse in a nest of snakes.”

“Good analogy.”

“I thought so.” He managed to slide her a hint of a smile. “Face it. For the next couple of weeks you're going to be way more popular than anyone should be.”

“Great,” she muttered, but told herself this is what she'd wanted, to be accepted as London Danvers, to finally know the truth about her past.

He picked up his cell phone and listened to messages as he eased the Jeep onto I-5. His smile faded.

“What?” she asked when he hung up.

“There's a change of plan. Something I have to do. Alone. I'll need to drop you off at a police station.”

“Who called you?”

He didn't answer, as he cut across traffic toward an exit that she knew led to Macadam Avenue.

“Zach, who called and what did he say?”

“Just be patient.” He dialed a number, swore, then left a brief message. “Len, it's Zach Danvers. I'll need police protection for Adria. Call me back ASAP.”

“Wait a minute,” she insisted as he pulled into the lot of a restaurant near the Willamette River. “What's going on, Zach? You can't just dump me off and leave me. Who the hell called you.” His lips tightened at the corners and he avoided her gaze. “Oh, God” she whispered and knew in an instant. “Eunice.”

“We'll wait until I hear back from Len.”

“Why? What did she want?” Fear caused the back of her throat to go dry. “Oh, God. She wants to meet with you, doesn't she?”

“Just stay here, inside, where you'll be safe. I'll be back soon.”

“Are you crazy? I'm not sitting around here waiting while you go and face her.

“She's my mother,” he said without any emotion.

“And a killer.”

“We think.”

“We know, Zach!” Adria grabbed his arm. “You're not going alone. I'll come with you.”

“No.”

“This is all because of me.”

“And if we're right and she's behind this, then you'll be in danger, but I won't. Stay here. I'll call Len and tell him where you are. The police will come by or I'll be back and you'll be safe.”

“Oh, yeah, right,” she threw back at him as raindrops drizzled down the windshield. “Aren't you the one who said I needed a bodyguard, round-the-clock protection? What if someone followed us here? What if Eunice or whoever is banking on us splitting up? What if she's in collusion with a partner and used the phone call to lure you away?”

“Hell.” Obviously the same thoughts had crossed his mind. “Isn't there anyone you can trust?”

“So that you can dump me off? I don't think so! Who would it be? Someone from your family? Trisha? Jason? Or the Polidoris?”

“Okay, okay! I get it.” Impatiently he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as the Jeep idled.

“I think it's better if we stick together.”

Instead of arguing, he reached under the seat and pulled out a handgun in a holster.

“You have a gun?” she asked, shocked.

“Yeah. I've been on some jobs where I thought I might need protection. Never used it. But I have a permit for a concealed weapon. Do you know how to use it?”

“I grew up in Montana,” she said as he handed her the weapon.

“Could you shoot it if you had to?”

“Yes.” But she wasn't certain. Of course if someone threatened her life or Zach's…Just the thought of this caused fear to jet through her blood.

“Good.”

“Wouldn't it be better if you kept it?” The pistol felt cold and heavy in her hands.

His jaw slid to the side as he shoved his rig into reverse, then wheeled out of the parking lot. “I was thinking if something unforeseen happens and we get split up…or…something happens to me…you'll have the weapon.”

“What do you mean ‘something happens to me.'”

He pulled out of the lot and drove south along the river. “I don't know. That's the problem. There's no telling what Eunice might do now that she's cornered. She begged me to come alone and speak with her privately, but I don't trust her.”

“Why not call the police?”

“I will. When we get there. I don't want them bursting in ahead of time. Just in case she really does have something to say to me alone…or with you.”

“Fair enough.” Her heart pounding, her fingers clenched around the cold weapon, Adria barely noticed the forested cliffs on one side of the road, nor the steely gray waters on the other. Expensive homes peeked through the thick branches and lush shrubbery.

Zach's knuckles showed white as he guided his Jeep through the commercial area of the town, then turned along a narrow, twisting road that rimmed the lake. Splashes of green water were visible through the tall trees and homes perched along the shoreline.

Adria steeled herself and tucked the pistol into her jacket pocket. He glowered through the windshield, his jaw set, his lips a razor-thin line. “What's the plan?”

“I knock on her door and demand answers.”

“With me.”

“You stay in the Jeep. I'll park a few houses away.” He glanced in the rearview mirror. “No one's followed us, so you'll be safe. As long as you keep the pistol.”

“I said I'm coming with you. Eunice is probably expecting that you'll do just what you said.”

“Listen, Adria, I don't like this—”

“Neither do I, but I'd rather be with you than off waiting somewhere, not knowing what's going on.”

“Fine.” A muscle worked in his jaw.

“Besides, I think I'm safer with you.”

“Let's hope you're right,” he growled under his breath as he pulled into the short drive of a two-storied cottage with white siding, dormers and black shutters. Though it was early afternoon, the day was gray and damp and warm interior lights blazed through paned windows. “Cozy, isn't it?” Zach mocked as he reached for his phone, dialed a number and quickly explained the situation to Len Barry of the Portland police, then hung up. “Okay, that should give us just enough time,” he said and climbed out of the car.

Adria's palms were sweating, her heart jack-hammering as she and Zach walked up the stone path to a small covered porch. Flowers bloomed brilliantly in boxes and the shrubbery flanking the house was clipped and neat, a perfect little home in a prestigious community.

The home of a killer.

Zach didn't wait, but knocked loudly, his fist pounding on the door. Adria felt the gun, heavy in her pocket, as her heart pounded in dread.

Would she face the woman who had tried to kill her?

Ginny Slade's murderer?

The door opened and Eunice Danvers Smythe, dressed in a black velour jogging suit, stood in the empty hallway. Sweat beaded her forehead and flushed cheeks as if she'd been working out. “Zach!” she said before her gaze traveled to Adria. “Oh…I wondered if you'd drag her along.” She forced a smile as frigid as the bottom of the Columbia River. “Come in. Both of you.”

“What's this all about, Eunice?” he asked, not moving.

“I think it's time to explain a few things.”

“Such as.”

“I was going to start with Kat.”

Adria's muscles tightened at the mention of her mother and Zach's harsh expression turned even more severe. “Why not Ginny?” he asked.

“Because it's best, don't you think, to begin at the beginning.”

“We don't have a lot of time.”

“Don't tell me. You've called the police.” She was walking down a hallway, her tennis shoes silent on the polished hardwood floors, her gait a little off, the scent of jasmine wafting after her. “Oh, Zach, you're so predictable. I wish you would have talked to me first.” She glanced over her shoulder, her gaze landing on Adria again. “Maybe it's better that you're here after all. Close the door, would you?”

Adria, feeling as if she was truly walking into a lion's den, complied. Zach waited for her and by the time they walked into the kitchen, Eunice was already dipping a tea bag into a cup of hot water. Two cups stood waiting, water already steaming from their porcelain depths. “Would you like some?” she asked, dipping a tea bag into the cup.

Zach shook his head.

“You?” she asked, glancing at Adria and there was a light in her eyes that gave Adria pause.

Something wasn't right here. The smell of jasmine from the tea seeped into the room and a chill as cold as all of December settled in Adria's bones. “I'm fine.” What was with the tea?

“What is it you wanted to say, Eunice?” Zach, standing near the kitchen table, didn't take his suspicious gaze from his mother as she busied herself with her tea cup.

To Adria, the entire situation was surreal. She stood next to Zach, waiting to hear the worst, watching a woman who was probably a killer calmly fiddle with her cup.

“Sit down, Zach, and drink a cup of tea or coffee with me,” she said, waving him into a chair. “It might be the last one we'll be able to share for a long, long time.”