See How She Dies (53 page)

Instead Jason pushed hard on the wooden boom, and the huge beam came around, catching Zach in his midsection and propelling him against the rail.

“Oh, God!” Adria threw herself at Jason, but it was too late. Jason tackled his brother and hit him squarely in the back of his head with the butt of his gun.

Adria screamed.

Zach's legs buckled.

“You bastard!” Adria lunged, grabbing at Jason's arm, and he flung her off to slam against the railing.
Crack!
Pain splintered through her brain. Her head bounced against the hardwood and she staggered, her feet slipping on the slick deck, her gaze fastened on the brothers.

Zach reeled forward and kicked upward, catching Jason in the groin.

With a roar of sheer agony, Jason doubled over.

Staggering, Zach tried to kick his brother again.

Jason was quick. He caught Zach's boot in his hands and jammed Zach back against the rail.

No! Oh, no!
Adria staggered forward as Jason twisted Zach's ankle. Zach roared in pain and Adria propelled herself forward, her feet slipping as she launched herself onto Jason's back.

He still held the gun in one hand, but she didn't care as she tore into him, kicking and clawing, fighting with every ounce of strength in her body as the boat rocked and the rain came down in sheets.

Jason wrenched Zach's ankle again and Zach howled at the sickening sound of tendons ripping from bone. Adria felt all the muscles in Jason's back bunch as he shoved hard, hurtling his brother into the frigid inky waters of the Columbia.

“Oh, God, no! No!” Adria cried, kicking harder. She couldn't lose Zach this way. Wouldn't!

Jason flung her off. “You're been a pain in the ass from the second you showed up in town.” His gun was aimed right at her heart, but she didn't care, not when Zach was drowning.

“And you're a murdering bastard,” she said, fury surging through her veins. “Rot in hell!” She ran to the railing and vaulted over, certain she would hear the sound of a pistol cracking as it was fired.

But there was only silence as she plunged downward into the icy water and she prayed that she'd be able to find Zach. Before it was too late.

 

Jason watched her fling herself into the river and he lowered his weapon. She wouldn't last two minutes in the river. The water temperature was near freezing and if the current got to her, it would carry her downstream in a torrent. He wouldn't have to take the rap for either of their deaths and with the right seeds planted, the press and police would probably believe they had a suicide pact, that they were doomed lovers who had found out they were brother and sister and had decided to end it all.

Yeah, that would work, he thought, shivering and wet. He thought of Zach and felt nothing but disgust. Years ago, on the night of the kidnapping, Jason had set Zach up, killing two birds with one stone. He'd known Polidori's toughs would come looking for him at the Orion. Sophia, the hooker, had been bait and Zach had been an innocent. That he'd taken the fall for London's kidnapping had been a stroke of luck. At least for Eunice. The police had bought her alibi and Zach's was so paper-thin, he'd become the number one suspect. Jason considered his mother, lying in the hospital. Possibly dying. Was there a way he could somehow blame her for this mess with Zach and Adria? Of course not. She was being watched around the clock by the police. Even Jack Logan couldn't get near her.

Wiping the rain from his face, Jason scanned the stygian waters of the Columbia for any sign of life.

There was none.

Maybe they were dead already. Which would make things easier. When Adria had shown up in Portland, Jason had panicked. Sweeny's news that she was really London had been a hard blow, but he'd known instinctively what had to be done. Surprisingly, he'd found it easier to kill than he'd first thought. Once he'd paid for an alibi, he'd beat Adria and Zach to San Francisco, hoping to kill Ginny before they'd called the police or spoken with her. That, of course, hadn't happened. But he'd managed to sneak out of the house before getting caught.

He'd learned well from his mother.

Eunice would never realize what she'd taught him. He'd watched her over the years and recently seen what she'd been capable of. He'd always thought his ability to do anything necessary to preserve the Danvers name and fortune had come from his father. Of course, he'd been wrong. Eunice was the strong one in the family.

He checked his watch and scanned the waters one last time. It had been nearly half an hour since Zach and London had gone overboard. Long enough for the river to do its job.

It was show time.

“Help!” he yelled, cupping his hands in the direction of the gatehouse. “Man overboard! Can anyone hear me? For God's sake, I need some help down here! Slip eighteen! Help!” He raced downstairs, found the phone, and punched out 911. He gave himself time until the first person on a neighboring boat appeared and the sound of sirens screamed in the distance. Then he kicked off his shoes, tossed off his jacket, and dove into the water to wait. By the time the police arrived, the current would have swept the remains of the newly found London Danvers and her lover—her half-brother—out to sea. The police might suspect him, but it would never be proven…two more lives claimed by the power of the river.

 

Zach coughed and drew in water, then coughed again. God, he was cold. So damned cold. His head felt as if it had been hit by a two-by-four. Instinctively, he struggled upward, feeling the current pull him downstream. He surfaced, gasped deep lungfuls of air, and was swept under again.

All of his muscles were sluggish and one leg barely moved, but he forced himself to the surface and drew in another deep breath. Something was wrong—horribly wrong, but he couldn't remember what. He breathed in air and water and saw lights, not that far away. With effort he began to swim, still coughing, dragging his body through the water, feeling the icy fingers of the river try to pull him under yet again.

Slowly his memory returned. As he stroked laboriously, pieces of the night came together. He pushed himself harder, plowing through the water, wishing the dead weight in his right leg would fall off, fighting the current.

Adria!
She was with Jason on the yacht. Oh, God, if she wasn't already dead. Adrenaline surged through his blood and he swam faster, ignoring the frigid cold, refusing to give in to the cramping in his muscles and driving himself through the water. He only hoped it wasn't too late.
God! Please, let me get to her!

He was nearly a quarter of a mile downstream when he finally grabbed hold of a piling, and coughing and shivering, dragged himself out of the water, threw himself on the rocky shore and retched, spewing water, feeling as if he would die. He'd lost a boot during the ordeal and he kicked off the other. Pain screamed up his leg. Gritting his teeth, he scrambled up the bank as best he could. Hopping on one leg, he pulled himself forward, over a concrete embankment, fell onto the puddle-strewn pavement of an all-night service station. Hobbling, he made his way past the islands to the small office.

Under flickering fluorescent lights, an attendant with a butt of a cigarette burning on his lips took one look at Zach and reached under the counter for his gun. “Jesus H. Christ, would you look at that?” he said to the empty room.

“Call the police,” Zach ordered, bracing himself on the door frame.

“No shit, I'll call the police…” With the gun aimed at Zach's midsection, the attendant reached for the phone and dialed with trembling fingers. “Hey, this is Louie at the Texaco just off Marine Drive. We got ourselves a little problem here…”

 

“…I told you I don't know what happened. I was downstairs in the salon and all of a sudden I heard something go overboard. I ran upstairs and both Adria Nash and Zach were nowhere to be seen. That's when I called for help and jumped into the water,” Jason said convincingly. His teeth were chattering, his body shaking, his clothes wet and dripping as they clung to his body.

The police had arrived and a patrol boat was on the river, while other officers were in the yacht, questioning him and searching the boat. Divers had already jumped into the near-freezing water and broad searchlights skimmed the river's dark, murky surface.

Another squad car, lights flashing, arrived. More cops. Jason steeled himself for another barrage of questions, only to watch as the cruiser parked near the others and two officers emerged. But they weren't alone. They took the time to help a third man from the backseat.

He squinted into the darkness and as the officers and their passenger walked under the security lights, he thought he might be sick. The third man was Zach. Very much alive. Hobbling on his bad leg and angry enough to spit nails. Dread, hot as acid, burned its way through Jason's stomach. Somehow he had to turn this around.

Zach knew too much.

There had to be a way to stop him from spilling his guts. But he wasn't the kind of man who could be bought off. Money wouldn't do it. No, his weakness was women, and the one woman who could persuade him to keep quiet was gone, her body no doubt floating out to sea.

For the first time in his life, staring at the furious face of his brother, Jason Danvers knew fear. Real, bone-chilling fear.

Using crutches, a slicker tossed over his shoulders, Zach hitched his way up the gangway and onto the yacht. He was pale, wet, bedraggled, and mad as hell. His chin jutted at a merciless angle and his gray eyes were murderous as they focused on his older brother.

“Zachary!” Jason forced himself to sound relieved when he thought he might piss himself. “Jesus, I was afraid you'd been lost when you fell over—”

“Where's Adria?” Zach demanded.

“Not here. She dived in after you, I think.”

“You think? You
think
? Where the hell is she, you lying piece of shit?” Zach lunged at Jason, dropping his crutches and nearly falling as his ankle gave out. His fists closed around his brother's wet shirt and he rammed his face up to Jason's. “If anything's happened to her, I swear to God, you'll pay.”

“Hey! That's enough! Take it easy,” one cop yelled, hurrying forward.

Zach didn't listen. He swung hard, a fist crashing into Jason's nose.

Crunch!

Cartilage shattered. Blood sprayed.

Pain burst through Jason's face.

He tried to protect himself, to throw a punch, but it was too late.

Frenzied with fear, Zach landed a jab to Jason's ribs that nearly doubled him over.

“You bastard. You goddamned murdering bastard,” Zach yelled as a cop peeled him off his brother. “You killed her.”

“Whoa, slow down,” one of the cops advised, but Zach found his crutch and swung it hard.

Jason ducked and the bigger cop grabbed Zach. “Mr. Danvers reported that the two of you fell or jumped into the river—”

“Fell? Jumped? No way. He goddamned pushed me in.” Zach whirled on his brother. “So where the hell is she? In the river? Oh, God, you'd better pray that she's all right!”

“Zach,” Jason said, his voice full of reproach. “I'm sorry—”

“The hell you are. You're hoping I'll cover for you, aren't you? Well, no way. No damned way! You tried to kill me,” he said through gritted teeth. “For all I know, you tried to kill her, too.”

“We'll sort this out downtown,” one of the officers said.

“No! You've got to find her!” Zach insisted, trying to reach the rail. Desperately, he searched the black waters. “You've got to!”

“It's been over half an hour, Mr. Danvers—”

Zach flung himself to the rail, his eyes squinting against the darkness. He started to climb over but felt one hand being yanked behind his back, then the second wrenched behind him as handcuffs clicked into place.

“You can't—”

“Come on, Mr. Danvers.”

He tried to struggle but his ankle gave out, sending pain jarring up his leg. The officers shoved him into a waiting car and Zach was certain he'd never see her again. Never be able to admit that he loved her, never for the rest of his life feel the way he did when he was with her. No doubt Adria Nash or London Danvers, whatever she wanted to be called, was gone forever.

 

Zach hadn't slept in days. One twenty-four-hour period seemed to bleed into the next and he had no idea of the time, or the date, just lived with the sickening knowledge that Jason was behind bars and his mother, once she recovered from her wounds and was released from the hospital, would face prosecution. Jason's accomplice, a burly man on parole, had been shooting his mouth off in a bar near Fisherman's Wharf and a police informant had nailed him. It hadn't taken much persuasion to get him to talk and Jason's name had come up.

Nicole, already having packed Shelly off to Santa Fe, was clamoring for a divorce and Kim had made a quick disappearance. No one had seen her, though many suspected it had been she who first told the press about Adria being London Danvers. As far as Zach was concerned, his older brother and his mistress deserved everything they got and more.