ShadowsintheMist (16 page)

“But the police don’t know anything about—”

“I know, I know. That’s what they told you and that’s what
they want you to believe.” His mouth twisted wryly. “You can blame Leo and me
for that. He insisted that you know nothing of what happened and made me
promise not to involve you.”

“Not involve me?” I cried incredulously. “Of all the
hypocritical, patronizing, contemptible…”

“Yes.” He sighed. “I suppose we deserve that. Still, a
promise is a promise and I did my best to keep you out of it. Actually, the
local police know very little about the investigation. They merely gather the
evidence and pass it on to the FBI.” He nodded at my stunned expression.

“They’ve got an undercover team set up in the area. I’m
sorry but I’m really not allowed to tell you who they are or where they work
from. Anyway, I took the poker directly to them yesterday and it’s now being
analyzed. We’re pretty sure you found the murder weapon.”

My mind worked sluggishly to take in the enormity of these
revelations. It all seemed so farfetched…and yet, all the pieces fit.

“Do you…they…have any idea who…”

He shook his head. “I don’t think so. They’re very hush-hush
about their investigation but as far as I can tell, there’s a bit more going on
than even I know about. We just have to trust they know what they’re doing.”

I gave a bitter laugh. “If they know what they’re doing, why
is Jenny lying in the hospital with a bullet in her?” I turned my head to stare
out at the lake so he wouldn’t see the tears blurring my eyes.

He ground his cigarette butt out in the ashtray. When he
answered, his voice was heavy. “That should never have happened,” he sighed. “It
seems we’re dealing with a real nutcase. It makes no sense to me that whoever
killed Leo would want to kill Jenny—or you—unless…”

“Unless what?”

He frowned. “Unless they don’t want the inheritance to go
through.”

I mulled over this theory. “Who could possibly want Leo’s
fortune to be auctioned off? And who could’ve known what was in Leo’s will in
the first place?”

Then, I remembered how Colin had acquired this information
easily from a secret source. Colin? I shuddered, trying to picture my half
brother as a murderer. It was no more farfetched than Grant. But what could
Colin possibly have to gain?

“That presents another area I think we should deal with,” he
continued. “If it’s true someone wants to prevent Leo’s estate from passing on
to you, it follows that the sooner we secure the inheritance, the better.
Hopefully, it will put you out of danger and in a position where we can keep a
closer eye on you.”

I frowned and fumbled for another cigarette. I was
chain-smoking and I didn’t care. He automatically produced a lighter. I rolled
down the window, blew a long trail of smoke out into the gentle breeze and
watched as it dispersed.

It was nearly dusk. The sun perched over the trees beyond
the lake, sending a mercurial rainbow trail rippling across the water’s
surface. The trees were magnificently clothed in the reds, yellows and oranges
of September and were mirrored in the shallows. Fish nibbled the surface as
they fed off mosquitoes, water-spiders or grubs that had dropped from
overhanging foliage. Two herons waded amid a grouping of lily pads, ducking their
long necks to snap up passing fry. Frogs and crickets tested their voices,
preparing for the evening chorus.

I was dreading this moment, yet knew it was inevitable. I
couldn’t submit quietly until every avenue was explored.

“How do we know the murderer doesn’t just want me dead
because he thinks I know too much?” I asked. “I mean, if he knows I found the
murder weapon and spoke to the police, perhaps he—or she,” I added pointedly, “may
think I’m onto the trail.”

Grant nodded. “I’ve thought about that too but it just doesn’t
tie in with Leo’s murder. Besides, if this fellow,” he glanced at me, “or woman,
wants you dead because of what you know, then why haven’t they tried to do me
in too?”

“Why, indeed?” I asked pointedly.

He groaned. “Christ, Suzanna, don’t tell me you still
suspect me? Would you be happier if I went out and got myself bumped off?”

I shrugged. “Well, at least it would prove beyond a doubt
that you’re not guilty.”

He snorted. “Yes and it would leave you in a fine pickle by
giving the real culprit just what he wants!”

“Or she.”

He sighed.

“But that’s just it, Grant. It doesn’t make sense. Why don’t
they just do away with you? It would serve the same purpose.”

“Sorry but I’m afraid you’re wrong there. If I should die,
the estate drops directly into your lap.”

“And if I go?”

“It goes to Colin and me.”

“Colin,” I repeated. Again the net tightened. I shivered. “It
couldn’t be Colin,” I muttered.

Grant shrugged. “We have to start looking at every
possibility. I’m sure the Feds are. I wouldn’t be surprised if you aren’t right
up there at the top of this list!”

“Me? But they must know I couldn’t possibly kill my own
father! Besides, I wasn’t even in the area.”

“Where’s your proof?”

“I’ve got a witness. David can verify I was at the cabin.”

He laughed. “David? Your fiancé? Come on, Suzie, do you
think he’d turn you in?”

I glared at him. “Suzanna, ” I corrected. “And David is not
my fiancé. Everyone knows I broke the engagement off.”

“Yes. Very convenient,” he rejoined.

I fumed. “Well, what was my motive then, Mr. Detective? Did
I kill my father for his money because I felt unwanted and unloved? Or perhaps
I just went a little cuckoo and felt like killing someone!” I ground my
cigarette out in the ashtray.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t think you had anything to do
with it. I’m just saying that, from a non-biased point of view, anyone could be
under suspicion.”

I sat back, mildly assuaged. “So what you’re saying, Grant,
is you think we should get married right away?”

“I think it’s the safest route.”

I contemplated this, then sighed. “All right. But I want it
clear from the start that in exactly one year we’ll have the marriage annulled.”

“Of course.”

“And,” I added, “during that year we live our own lives.
This is only a business venture, which means our relationship stays just the
way it is now.”

He smiled. “What are you afraid of, Suzie? Do you think I’d
insist on conjugal rights?”

I blushed, disconcerted. “No, I… That is… Oh, I don’t know
what to think! I just want to make things clear.”

“You’ve done that,” he said with an odd bitterness in his
voice. “Anyway, how about the next week?”

“What?”

“A week from Friday. We can go get it over and done with.”

“But what about blood tests? And…and the license and…”

“That can all be taken care of,” he said assuredly.

I felt my palms perspiring and wiped them on my tracksuit
pants. There was no putting it off.

“All right,” I complied. “Next week, then.”

He nodded. “There’s no need to tell anyone. I don’t
particularly want a big shindig, do you?”

“Good God, no! But we’ll need witnesses.”

“I’ll take care of that too.”

We fell silent. Then, unexpectedly, Grant reached over to
touch my cheek where a strip of white gauze covered the scrape.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

I shrugged. “Numb. I feel like I’m still out there on the
river but this time caught in the current with no paddle.” I looked down at my
hands. “It’s like I don’t have any control over my life.”

He gazed at me and his eyes were tinged with sympathy. “I
think you’re doing extremely well,” he said. “And, by the way, I liked your
first novel.”

I blinked. “You read it?”

He nodded. “It’s not the sort of thing I’d have picked up at
the bookstore but I wanted to see how good you were. Once I got started, I
couldn’t put it down. I’m really impressed.”

I realized I was blushing again and put a self-conscious
hand to my face.

“Well,” I said, “it’s only my first. I expect to get better
with each one.”

“Have you started another?”

“Sort of. But I’ll have to put in some long hours soon, or I’ll
never meet the deadline.”

“You’ll have plenty of time now,” he said. “I want you to
take it easy and keep a low profile for a while. At least, until all of this is
over. Perhaps even a trip abroad—”

“No,” I snapped. Was he already trying to manage my life? If
so, he was in for a fight!

Thankfully, he dropped the subject and turned the key in the
ignition. I felt a prick of guilt. He was probably only being kind. I turned to
him impulsively.

“Grant, I… Well, David thought it best that I move out of
Beacon and into Spindrift.”

I left it as a statement. I wanted to see his reaction. He
took the news calmly and, after a moments thought, nodded. For some reason,
this disappointed me.

“If that’s what you want to do,” he said. “You’d probably be
safer.” But he turned to me and his eyes were a dark, turbulent blue. “Can you
trust David?”

I opened my mouth to speak, then shut it, puzzled. Trust
David? “Well, why shouldn’t I?”

He cocked a brow. “Like I said, everyone is under suspicion.
He’d have a vested interest in this inheritance too, because of the business.
He’s Colin’s partner.”

I frowned. He was right, of course. I must be more ruthless
and not let emotional bonds or old habits color my judgment. Deep down, I was
unwilling to suspect anyone I cared for but logically I knew the chances of it
being someone unknown to me were slim. It was hard to imagine that cold-blooded
brutality could lie concealed beneath a familiar face.

I glanced into Grant’s eyes again and saw a mask, emotions
held in check by a rigid face and an iron will. Here was a face that could hide
a lot and I felt suddenly and desperately alone. Apprehension gripped me.

“Let’s go home,” I said, keeping my voice steady.

He put the car into gear and edged back down the bumpy
track. I watched him covertly. I’d marry him. If he was my enemy, the best way
to find out was with feigned innocence. If he considered me malleable, I’d pose
no threat and he’d have no reason to harm me. I could only hope murder was a
last resort rather than a pleasure. In the meantime, I would wait and watch and
pray the culprit would show his or her true colors soon.

So now, I sat alone on the flat rock that backed up to the
lighthouse, letting the rhythmic crash and suck of the waves lull my troubled
mind. I closed my eyes. The steady force of the wind, with its fine mist of
spray, wet my face, making my clothes limp and my hair frizzy. I felt ethereal,
as though by sheer willpower I could detach myself from mortality and drift in
the updrafts, or gambol and soar across the cream-capped waves.

My muscles relaxed and I blocked out the red webs of worry
that had held me in their clutches ever since my return to Beacon. I filled my
lungs again and again with clean, moist air and savored the tang of sodden
sand, algae and seaweed. Some time later, I opened my eyes, relaxed and
refreshed. For the first time in ages, I felt safe. I was sure no one saw me
leave the house and was equally certain no one had followed.

Since my talk with Grant, I’d decided against moving into
Spindrift. Once the shock of the shooting diminished, I felt stronger and
better prepared to face the future. I realized my original motives for the move
were based on fear and I was using David as a crutch again. It was unnerving to
think I might be resorting to this for the rest of my life. It was a habit—like
smoking—and the only way to stop was to refuse to give in.

David considered my decision foolhardy and said so directly,
showing more concern and emotion than I expected. It pleased me that, despite
the recent battering our relationship had taken, he still cared for me. Perhaps
the pressures afflicting us would make him realize just how important I was to
him and the fondness he felt for me would blossom into something deeper.
Already he was spending more time with me, insisting I be left alone as little
as possible in case whoever shot Jenny might still be after me.

It was touching to know he’d appointed himself my protector
but I soon began to feel smothered. It had been ages since I’d been able to
enjoy some solitude other than the four walls of my room at night. At least I’d
made some headway on my novel, managing between ten and fifteen pages each
evening.

Grant had disappeared, leaving word he’d be staying at the
Chicago penthouse for a few days to try to clear up a bit of stockholder
unrest. I knew the business was suffering since my father’s death. The
newspapers had gotten hold of Leo’s eccentric bequest and were having a field
day, speculating what would happen to Dirkston Enterprises. Shares were falling
rapidly and it was imperative Grant reassure the remaining investors that there
would be no major upheavals and that everything was well in control.

I prayed this was true because, if the bottom fell out of
the stock, we’d all face tenuous futures. Even though Leo’s private wealth was
massive, it was mostly tied up in investments. Divided among the three of us,
the meager liquid assets probably wouldn’t even cover the upkeep and
maintenance of Beacon for five years. It was all very legal. I found it tedious
poring over the documents and pamphlets that Grant occasionally left lying
around. It amazed me anyone could dedicate their lives to the practice of
corporate law. In my mind, it was dry, dull and decidedly boring and I quickly
lost interest, relying on the troupe of attorneys and accountants on staff to
keep Grant on the straight and narrow.

Despite my annoyance with Grant’s precipitous departure, I
was also somewhat relieved, not having entirely settled his guilt or innocence
in my mind. I was still much too ready to picture him as the hazy figure
outlined on the crest above the river, rifle to his shoulder, cold
determination in his ice-chip eyes. For the time being, I was able to keep a
cool ambivalence about the situation but my imagination was working overtime,
fitting that cold steel poker into the hands of everyone I knew. Indisputably,
Grant and Colin held it most convincingly and though I forced myself to keep an
open mind, I was grateful for David’s presence when facing either of them.