Tailspin (11 page)

“You need to realize that your safety is more important than finding out the truth.”

Sylvie was becoming more important to him personally than anything else.

And that thought scared him to death. That truth was more dangerous than anything he'd faced so far. But he had the feeling that she'd started something that would never stop, even if she quit searching. It wouldn't end well for Sylvie, for either of them, unless they uncovered the truth and exposed the killers.

God, please don't let it be her stepfather
. That would crush her. But what other possibilities were there? He'd see this through with her until it was over. Then, in order to protect his heart, in order to survive, Will Pierson would say goodbye to Sylvie.

It was all about survival of the fittest.

TWELVE

T
he ferry to Washington had been the longest three days of her life, and though Will had tried to convince her to get off in Ketchikan where he could get them a seaplane ride into Washington and shorten their trip, she had refused. So they slept under the solarium in the deck chairs with the rest of the ferry crowd who hadn't brought tents or rented cabins.

She'd never met anyone like him. Somehow through all this she had to keep her distance emotionally. And given that she'd just spent almost three days with him putting aside thoughts of the danger chasing them, and instead enjoying the sites of southeast Alaska—even getting a chance to watch the whales—like it was some sort of vacation, keeping her distance emotionally was becoming harder every day. Still, she wouldn't have had it any other way. He'd kept her company and he'd kept her alive.

So far.

But it would all come to an end soon.

She and Will expected her pursuers to be watching and awaiting their arrival in Washington.

Once the ferry docked at the terminal in Bellingham, Will rented a car for them at the Avis counter while she hung back against the wall, watching the crowd for any familiar faces. Her car was still parked at the marina from which she'd taken her boat up through the Inside Passage on her own. Had it really been more than a week ago? Will insisted she leave her car sitting and let him do the renting so they wouldn't leave any unnecessary trails, credit card or otherwise.

When he finished at the counter he had a big dimpled grin when he found her, and then he led her out the door and to the parking lot of rental cars. They passed by every one of the midsized sedans. Practical and economical. Then stopped at a cherry-red Chevrolet Camaro SS.

“Seriously, Will?”

“This has a V8. We need something with a powerful engine. I don't want to be stuck in a Prius if I need to lose someone. Besides, they were all out of BMWs.” He opened the door for her, his smile fading as his gaze took in the parking lot and others climbing into the more practical midsized cars. She scanned the crowd, as well, and saw no sign of the man who'd attacked her at the hospital or the one from the ferry.

So far, so good.

When he looked down at her sitting in the sports car, the grin came back again as he shut the door. He dropped into the seat on the driver's side.

“Are you sure this isn't just your way of living out some unrealized juvenile dream?” She hoped he caught her teasing tone.

“I live my dream every time I climb into a bush plane.” He started the ignition and paused to listen to the engine purr. “But if I can't fly, this will do in a pinch.”

Looking out the window, watching for their pursuers, Sylvie smiled as Will steered them from the parking lot. This guy might be a lot of fun in a world where she wasn't being pursued by killers. But Sylvie shoved those thoughts out of her mind.

They stopped at a strip mall where she and Will bought a few additional items of clothing and grabbed some lunch. Better to buy new clothes and avoid going back to her apartment where dangerous men could be waiting to kill her, until this was over.

She had one destination in mind, and that was her stepfather's mansion, where she'd grown up. The last place her mother had been before her tragic death. Although the killers had found Sylvie in the waters of the channel, in Snake's cabin, in the hospital and on the ferry, she could hope they wouldn't follow her to her stepfather's home. If the worst-case scenario was true, and he was involved, he would never allow anything to happen at the refurbished historical mansion he'd purchased for her mother as a wedding gift.

A morbid way of believing she would be safe there. All things considered, though, it was as safe a place as any.

At least he wouldn't be there this week, and Sylvie could search Mom's things without having to face him. He was the head of an international corporation and traveled often, and Sylvie knew he was in Asia for a month. He hated the house, and she figured he would move out and into another monstrosity as soon as was socially acceptable given the loss of his wife. With all the doubt and suspicion coursing through her, she didn't think she could look him in the eyes. If she saw him now, in her current frame of mind, she might accuse him to his face just to see his reaction. But he could be convincing, even if he was guilty, which meant she had to find solid evidence—something only she could get her hands on.

Would she be strong enough to see through him if it came to that?

God, please don't let him be involved in her death...

She didn't think anything could hurt worse than his betrayal of their loving, happy family, but a murder would certainly slice her heart in two.

Her thoughts were jumbled as each passing mile put her closer to home. She thought about what she would say to the housekeeping staff when she arrived. Though the house had been Sylvie's home, too—her bedroom was still the same and she was always welcome—she wouldn't give her usual courtesy call to let the staff know, to give them or her stepfather any prior warning, in case there was anything to hide.

How she hated these ludicrous, suspicious thoughts.

She'd forgotten about getting in touch with Ashley, Damon's assistant, but that could wait until she'd searched the house.

The home was located southeast of Bellingham, toward the national forests. Damon had preferred his home near a seaport or an airport, but agreed to move inland to the mansion sitting on the side of a mountain for Regina. Sylvie directed Will, who was clearly enjoying driving the Camaro. If she tried, she could almost imagine they were out for an afternoon joyride to take in the scenery of thick forests. They had been on the road for almost an hour when they hit Marblemount.

“Better stop and get gas here. Not many stops after this. We can grab some snacks, too.”

Will filled the tank while Sylvie grabbed sodas and junk food. She exited the gas station and let herself admire Will as he topped off the gas. She had to admit he looked good standing next to that car. But then she caught the expression on his face.

Something was wrong.

The realization made her trip up as she approached. “What's the matter?”

“Someone's following us,” he stated grimly.

“What?” She started to turn—

“Don't look.” He leaned in as if he would kiss her, obviously trying to make it look as though they hadn't noticed their tail.

Her breath hitched at his nearness, at how much she wanted him to kiss her. She stepped back and handed off his snacks, gathering her composure. That had been a close call. He was a huge distraction in her efforts to figure this out. Sylvie tried to look nonchalantly across the street as she made her way around the car and climbed in. Once inside she flipped the visor down to look through the mirror but couldn't see anything.

Will pulled out of the gas station and continued onto the state highway.

“Don't turn around, Sylvie. Don't give us away. Let them think we don't know they're back there.”

“How long have you known?”

“I've had my suspicions from the start, but the gas station stop more than persuaded me.”

She sank down in the seat. “I don't want to lead them to the house and cause problems for my stepfather or anyone there.”

“On the contrary, maybe they're letting your stepfather know that you're on the way and to be prepared for you. Don't let your guard down around that man or anyone who works for him. I know you want to believe he's innocent, but at the same time you've more than convinced me he's not.”

“He's not even there. But I hear what you're saying. Let's lose the tail anyway.”

“Tell me about the road ahead. What am I going to see?”

“A lot of twists and turns as we climb into the mountains. Motorcycle enthusiasts love this road.”

Will blew out a breath and grinned. “I think I'm going to love it, too.”

“Don't get us killed, Will.”

“I'm not going to get us killed. I'm trying to keep you alive. Don't you trust me by now?”

Her throat tightened. That was a loaded question. “You haven't let me down yet.”

“They're closing the gap. Before we lose them, can you see their faces? See who it is? Is it Diverman and Rifleman?”

She flipped the visor again. “I can't tell.”

“All right, then. Hang on.”

Sylvie pressed back into the seat as Will floored the accelerator. “If I punch it enough, I should be able to lose them around this next curve. Turn off on a side road or drive.”

They whipped around the mountain curve, and Sylvie got a better look of the rocky ravine below than she wanted. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the centrifugal force to release her. Will turned off onto a private drive and followed it up.

“I saw them drive by. We'll wait here and see if they backtrack.” He found a place to turn the car around and waited.

“Do you think we lost them?”

“I have a feeling they already know where we're going so it probably doesn't matter.”

Sylvie didn't like his answer, but she didn't know what else to say. She sat back and waited with Will. Finally, he shifted into gear and eased out of their hiding spot back onto the road. They didn't see the vehicle that had tailed them.

She let him enjoy the twists and turns, squeezed her eyes shut when the road hedged the river gorge. A few miles more and they came to the gated drive to Damon's house, and Sylvie punched in the code to open the gates. “We're going to wait on the other side and make sure nobody comes inside the grounds after us, okay?”

“Works for me.” Will drove through and waited for the gate to close behind him.

The men that had followed them earlier drove by slowly on the road. The two men peered out at them but acted casually, as if they were out for a Sunday drive.

“At least it's not Diverman and Rifleman.”

Will frowned. “No, it's two more people we need to watch out for. Told you they already knew where we were headed. They look like Feds to me.”

“How do you know?”

“I've delivered a few Feds to parts unknown now and then.”

Sylvie blew out a breath. She couldn't worry about more men following her now—especially if they might just be law enforcement. She had a bigger problem to face head-on and up ahead. Going through Mom's things in search of incriminating evidence against Damon or proof of his innocence was not going to be easy.

A sour taste rose in her mouth.

Sylvie wasn't sure what she hoped to unearth but anything at all that would give her a clue, a look into what happened, was worth this trip. She remained quiet while Will maneuvered the curves of the two-mile paved and winding driveway to the mansion. She thought about Will's warning that she was taking them into the lion's den, right into the mouth of the lion.

The mansion loomed ahead, resting on the side of a mountain and overlooking the river. To the right was a great steel-enforced deck and helipad. The house was all brick and stone stacked in horizontal and vertical planes and overhangs. Sylvie waited for Will's reaction.

“It looks like something from an Alfred Hitchcock movie.” Will chuckled. “I'm sorry if that didn't come out right. I think it's magnificent.”

“I think the architect was a Frank Lloyd Wright student. As for Alfred Hitchcock, you're thinking of that movie
North by Northwest
. This is similar to that, yes. Though it's modern-looking, futuristic in some ways, it's a decades-old historical mansion that's been refurbished.”

“I had pictured something else altogether.” Will shifted in his seat. “You never actually said who your stepfather is. I have the feeling he's someone important.”

“Damon Masters is the CEO of Masters Marine Corporation. The great-grandson of the founder.”

“Um...wow. Just. Wow. Regina did well for herself when she married.”

Sylvie frowned at the comment, but didn't say anything. She knew Will hadn't meant any harm.

“So what exactly does the corporation do? Obviously it has to do with the ocean and seafaring vessels, and I sound like a real idiot.”

“It's a marine solutions company. Transportation. Logistics. International and domestic. A holding company for other marine businesses, as well. And don't ask me more than that because then I'll sound like an idiot. Not saying you did, but then you'll find out how little I really know.”

Sylvie's mother had started out as her stepfather's assistant, then eventually married him. Sylvie had wanted no part of the business in that capacity. Sitting in an office all day turned her into a puddle.

Had Will sunk down into his seat?

“And you're the princess.” He'd said it matter-of-factly, as though there was no question in his mind.

She bristled at his words but was unsure how to respond. After all, there was truth in them and she'd said as much herself. And that left her torn. Yes, her childhood had been privileged. But that wasn't always a good thing. Money could cover up a lot of ugliness, but it didn't make the pain go away. How could this beautiful old mansion, refurbished and loved, shelter a family that had loved and hated and perhaps even killed? Just what secrets did it harbor?

He slowed the Camaro and parked in the circular drive. The helicopter was parked on the helipad, which overhung a steep cleft in the mountain and had drawn his attention. He shut off the ignition.

“Look at me.”

He slowly turned, an entirely unfamiliar expression on his face.

“Don't be intimidated.”

He stiffened. “Who said I was?”

“That's why I never tell anyone who my stepfather is.”

“Why aren't you involved in his business?”

She'd already told him she was a diving instructor, but not the details of how and why she ended up getting that job. “The Masters Diving School is one of the subsidiaries. I guess the name gave that away.” She shrugged and studied the immaculate grounds. “I guess my biological father's blood runs through me. I'm more interested in getting my hands dirty. Doing hands-on work, like he did with the avalanche center, and as a search and rescue volunteer. I love diving, and teaching others. Volunteering on the search and rescue dives. The rest of it, the business side of a large international corporation, just isn't for me.”