Silk and Stone (53 page)

Alexandra would eat her alive.

He had to get Samantha as far away from her as he could. But there was only one way he could make her leave him. By driving her away.

Sam locked her hands into his shirt and continued to search his face desperately. His expression was stiff, his gaze agonized and strangely unwelcoming. He released her and dropped his hands by his sides.

“Are you all right?” she asked. An absurd question, but rational thought had deserted her. She ran her fingertips over his head and chest in a frantic examination, reduced to searching for invisible injuries as if she could erase the real one that way.

Jake stepped back and caught her hands as if he didn’t want her to touch him. “You’re the only one I’m worried about,” he said.

“Why didn’t you call me instead of Joe? Why did I have to hear about this from someone else?”

“Because I know how bad it sounds. I wanted someone I trust to be with you.”

He was the one in jail, but he was worried about her. Sam said in a choked voice, “You found out Malcolm Drury had come back, and you had to make certain he wouldn’t bother us. You were so afraid something else would happen. Isn’t that it?”

“Yes.”

“I should never have told you about him.” Her voice shook. “I despised him for stealing from my mother. I wanted something terrible to happen to him. It did. He was stupid enough to smuggle drugs, and someone pointed him out to the police in the Bahamas, and they
caught him. Case closed.” Shame washed over her as she realized she was berating Jake. She bowed her head. “You didn’t kill him. Joe told me what you said. He fell. It was an accident.”

“That’s not how it looks. There’s not a chance in hell a court will let me walk away from it.”

“Don’t you
dare
stand there and tell me you’re giving up before we’ve even started fighting! You’re not going to prison!”

“Yes, I am.” He said it with a kind of eerie certainty that frightened her so badly, she gagged. She turned her face and cupped a hand over her mouth, shutting her eyes, struggling for control. He pulled her against him with a convulsive sigh, pressed his face into her hair, and held her fiercely. She felt his tears slipping down her cheek, and cried with him.

Alexandra crossed the parking lot of the Durham motel with eager strides. She was pleased with herself—amazed at the way one, small push had started a perfect chain of events.

Malcolm Drury was dead, taking any threat to her with him. Sarah and her brood were gone. Jake was as good as dead. Orrin—dear, loving Orrin, who thought she was distraught over the events—had studied the evidence against Jake and sadly confirmed Alexandra’s hope. No jury was likely to acquit Jake, and a murder conviction carried a long prison term before any chance of parole.

Samantha was only nineteen. She’d get on with her life and forget about him. All Alexandra had to do was take advantage of the situation. She searched the line of numbered doors and nodded with satisfaction when she found the one she wanted.

Alexandra laughed. Wasn’t fate undoubtedly on her side? Who would have thought her problems could solve themselves so beautifully, with no liability to her and very little effort on her part?

She knocked softly. The door opened a crack. Charlotte
stared at her from beneath the guard chain. Her eyes were more startlingly blue than Alexandra remembered, and there was a hard edge to their unflinching gaze.

“Let me in, dear. Samantha asked me to come.”

“I know. I tried to talk her out of it.” Charlotte opened the door. Alexandra saw no sign of Samantha in the small, efficient room. The door to the bath was closed. She heard the muffled sound of running water.

Stepping inside, Alexandra gracefully removed her tailored coat and draped it over a chair, feeling Charlotte’s eyes watching every move suspiciously. Alexandra had dressed in casual slacks and an old blazer, thinking it made her appear unforbidding and sincere.

She appraised Charlotte’s bare feet, tight jeans, sloppy pink sweater, and shaggy blond hair with hidden dismay. Unlike Samantha, Charlotte had a trashy streak. Apparently, the Raincrows had encouraged it. “Let me tell you something,” Charlotte said, sliding plump, stubby hands into the back pockets of her jeans. “If you upset Sam any more than she already is, I’ll rip your fucking head off.”

This unbridled aggression was a surprising change. Alexandra suppressed an urge to pop her in the mouth. There would be plenty of opportunity to squeeze Charlotte down to size. “I’m only here to help,” she replied patiently. “Believe it or not, I feel terrible about everything that’s happened. As much as I disliked the Raincrows, I never wished to see the family end up in ruin. Sarah was my sister-in-law at one time. Jake and Ellie are my son’s cousins. As children, they were his closest friends.”

Charlotte slammed the door. “You’re only worried about your and Orrin’s reputation,” she shot back. “Because the news people keep mentioning that Jake is married to your niece.”

Alexandra glanced furtively toward the bath, wishing Samantha would come out. Her patience was slipping. “If I cared about public image, I’d distance myself from this whole situation. But I’m here to support you and Samantha in every way I can. And that includes doing my best to help Jake.”

Charlotte eyed her uncertainly. The bathroom door opened suddenly, and Samantha hurried out, a towel draped around her slender shoulders, her hair wet and slicked back, her face swollen and pale. She wore a black terry-cloth robe of such oversize proportions, it must be Jake’s. She moved with a kind of dogged determination, her eyes dull. “Thank you for coming.” Her voice was hoarse.

“I’m glad you called me.”

Charlotte snorted. “Sammie, I’m going outside and sit on the curb. But only because you asked me to split when
she
got here.” She grabbed a coat and walked out, slamming the door again.

Samantha gestured to a chair. Alexandra nodded and sat down, noting with pride that her niece maintained a strong, shoulders-back posture as she settled on the end of the room’s bed. “I doubt you want to hear any sympathies from me,” Alexandra told her.

“That’s right. I need money. I’ve got to hire a good lawyer.”

“Do you have anyone in mind?”

“His name’s Ben Dreyfus.”

Alexandra suppressed a frown. “I’ve heard of his father. Abraham Dreyfus is a very respected attorney.”

“I wanted the father, but he’s sick. A mild heart attack, I heard. So … Ben said he’d talk to me.” Sam’s shadowed eyes met Alexandra’s. “I’m going to need a lot of money for legal fees. The trial.” Her voice faltered. “And if … the worst happens, then for appeals. I’m not putting Jake in the hands of a court-appointed lawyer.”

“Hmmm. That’s a wise decision. Don’t worry about the cost. I’ll pay for everything.”

“It’s only a loan. I’ll work it off. Work for you. Do whatever you want.”

Alexandra marveled at the offer. There was no doubt in her mind that Jake didn’t know Samantha’s plans; Jake would never have agreed to them. Nor she did doubt that Samantha hated asking her for money and had been driven to this point by desperation. Samantha’s devotion to him, her sacrifice for his sake, was troubling. Prying her
away from Jake would be a delicate and lengthy business. But worth the effort.

“I’ll give you the money—no strings attached,” Alexandra said.

“No. I couldn’t take it as a gift.”

Which was exactly what Alexandra had known she’d say. “I’ll be delighted to have you back on speaking terms with me, whatever the conditions. Let’s forget about the past. We’ve both said and done hurtful things, but we can start over. I promise.”

“There’s only one promise I need. That you’ll leave Charlotte out of this. She’ll live with me. She’ll be my responsibility. You won’t expect us to come back to Highview. We’ll stay in the Cove. It’s home. And I don’t want anything to do with Tim. I don’t want him near Charlotte.”

“You have my promise.”

Sam looked at her with grim astonishment. “I didn’t think it would be this easy.”

“That’s because you don’t really know me. I hope we can change that. I’ll start by saying how pleased, really pleased, I am about your weaving. I’ve seen the work you’ve sold. If you’d like to continue with it, then let me be your partner. I’ll find, no,
we’ll
find a very nice place for you to set up shop in town. Someplace with lots of display space. I’ll introduce you to interior decorators.”

“I’ll pay you back. Every penny you loan me.”

“Oh, we’ll discuss that later. You have too much to worry about already.” Alexandra stood. Timing was everything. She intended to be the very model of selfless generosity. All the odds were in her favor now. “Is there anything I can do for you today? Visit this lawyer with you? Book a room at a good hotel for you and Charlotte? I’m sure you want to stay in Durham, close to Jake.” Alexandra eyed the crumpled pizza box atop the television set, and the empty cans of soda. “You need to eat well and try to rest. Room service would be a blessing.”

“No … thank you. You’ve done enough.”

Alexandra bit back an argument. “What about Jake’s dog? Can I send someone to the Cove to feed him?”

“Joe Gunther is taking care of him.”

“Oh. Well. Call me after you meet with Ben Dreyfus. Just tell me where to send a check.”

Samantha rose stiffly. “Thank you.” It was clear she felt honor bound to offer some humble show of gratitude—a hug or at least a handshake. And it was clear she didn’t want to give either. Alexandra quickly slipped into her coat and said, “That’s that, then. I know nothing can make you feel better at the moment, but just don’t think you have to struggle with this awful situation alone. I’m a, well, a changed woman. Wiser. I sincerely hope we can bring Jake home to you, and that maybe, just maybe, he’ll see that I’m not an enemy.”

Samantha said nothing. The mention of Jake’s name seemed to weigh her down. Alexandra paused at the door, a tide of merciless interest overwhelming her. She damned the compulsion, but it was too powerful. Alexandra said carefully, “I’m not asking this question for any selfish reason. I simply want to know that an heirloom that meant a great deal to the Vanderveers as well as the Raincrows is safely stored away. Do you know what’s become of the ruby, Samantha?”

Samantha leveled a somber, unwavering gaze at her. “I saw it only once. Sarah didn’t tell Jake or me what she did with it. We didn’t ask.”

Alexandra’s composure nearly failed her. Lost? Sold? Hidden? The thought that even now Sarah might count the last coup was unthinkable. She steeled herself. “It belongs to you and Jake now. It’s worth a small fortune. It should be located and insured. But … well, I’m certain Jake will find it when he
comes
home. He has a remarkable talent for finding things.”

Samantha didn’t blink. “When he comes home,” she said.

Jake paced the cell, sweating. The nights here weren’t quiet or dark. The barred wall that faced the corridor let the yellow security lights reach into the cell. Guards patrolled the corridor regularly, and he could never
tune out the rhythmic click of their hard-soled shoes, or the snores and nightmarish cries of other, sleeping prisoners.

Everything he touched made him recoil. The bare cinderblock walls, the toilet, the sink, the metal bunk, its blanket, sheets, and pillow. Everything whispered excruciating information about the men who’d been there before him. He was immersed in their lives, their bitterness, their fear. The acts they’d committed crept into his mind in vivid detail.

He was drowning. He had to shut them out. He had to wall off the part of his mind that worked that way, even if it meant shutting out Samantha too. It was the only way he’d survive. Handicapped. Soulless.

He concentrated on the sound of his own feet hitting the smooth concrete floor. Blood had been spattered on this floor more than once. And every other fluid a human body could produce.
Shut it out
.

“You better learn to sleep, man. Sleep is the only time you get to go where you want.”

Jake halted. A big, fleshy man with a shaved head lay on his stomach in the bunk across the way, his chin propped on bulging forearms. He was black, and seemed to merge with the shadows around him. He laughed tonelessly. “I see new ones like you all the time,” he continued in a low voice. “Dragging their asses around the floor day and night. Ain’t learned to get inside themselves yet and stay there.”