The Candidate (Romantic Suspense) (The Candidate Series) (21 page)

Frustrated he slammed one of the drawers, but it stuck. When he jerked it out again, a small book fell onto the floor.

It was sealed with a clasp.
Maddy’s diary
. 

Ben held it up to show Abby. “Would you mind if I take this with us?”

 “I never even knew she kept a journal.”  Abby looked out from the closet. Her eyes were rimmed with tears. “I can’t believe it. Half the clothes in here are similar to outfits I own. I guess she played my double on more than one occasion.” 

Ben frowned. He could only imagine Abby’s pain at seeing the extent of her sister’s duplicity. He wished he’d been the one to search the closet instead.

The hangers scraped across the rod with each angry stroke. “I’ve opened every box in here, and patted down all her clothes…” Abby’s voice faded away. “Wait…there’s a small door back here…”

He heard more rustling, then creaking boards. Finally Abby resurfaced. “Ben, is this the suitcase you saw at Maddy’s place?”  

It was bright red. 

He nodded.

She swung it onto the bed. They both coughed as the dust flew up and hit them in the face. Ben unzipped the bag. Inside were the clothes he’d seen on Maddy the afternoon he confronted her at her apartment. 

That day seemed so long ago. Without thinking, he patted Maddy’s skirt. Emotions surged through him as the memory of taking her, there on the floor, came back to him.

He dropped his head in shame.

Abby laid her hand over his, but said nothing. When he finally looked up at her, he was touched by the concern in her eyes. 

They stood there for what seemed like an eternity. Finally she murmured, “If you like, I’ll check it for the envelope.”

He nodded and stood back.

Abby lifted each piece of clothing from the suitcase. Nothing fell out. Three zippered pockets held a few cosmetics and nothing more.

Ben took a turn checking the outer surfaces for a hidden compartment, but none revealed itself.

“Another dead end,” he muttered.

Abby sighed as she walked to the window. Looming under the galaxy of stars sprinkling overhead was Asquith Hall’s tall box hedge maze. Suddenly she murmured, “Oh my God! How could I forget?”

Ben stared at her. “What is it?”

“Venus de Milo! In the hedge maze! It was our secret hiding place.”

She was halfway down the stairs before he realized he should follow her.

 Charlie found Asquith Hall with no problem. The old codger’s directions were spot on. 

The place was ablaze with lights. He wondered if they were alone, or if there might be some collateral damage. Que sera, sera, what will be, will be. If so, he’d substitute the crazed campaign manager murder-suicide angle he’d been working on for a good old explosive fire with no known survivors. 

An assassin was nothing if not flexible and resourceful.

He circled around the house, to get the lay of the land. Most of the ground floor windows were really French doors, or close to the floor in height. This allowed him to look inside the lit rooms on that level. There was no one to be seen. 

He leaned back, better to scan all three levels of the house. The second story was dark, but the third floor dormer windows were lit up. Good. Knowing exactly where they were saved him from having to go room to room.

He came back around to the front of the house just in time to see the woman, Maddy, run out into the yard. The Brinker dude wasn’t far behind her. 

Here’s the way the cops will see it: He let the bereft sis cry on his shoulder. When he got fresh, she ran out, and into that fucking garden maze. He followed, figuring he could rape her at gunpoint. They struggled, and he killed her instead. Not wanting to be some prison bad-ass’s bitch, he put a bullet in his head.  

Yeah, that’ll work. From his back holster Charlie took out the drop gun he carried just for such an occasion.

This is going to be easier than he’d thought. 

 “Wait, Abby! Slow up!” Ben, who had been running to keep up with her, tripped over a root and landed on one knee.

He was groaning in pain when she reached him. She offered her hand to him. “I’m so sorry, Ben. Here let me help you up.”

It was so dark that he could barely make her out. Her hand sought out his, but it found his head first. Her fingers, brushing against his ear, made his heart beat that much faster. To calm it, he thought it best to focus on the task at hand. He grabbed her hand, but instead of pulling him off the ground, she fell on top of him. 

With her chest against his, he realized her heart was racing, too. 

Neither of them made a move.

Soon their hearts were beating in tandem.

He wondered what she was thinking about. Like his, was her mind churning over the events of the past forty-eight hours? Was she also scouring her memory for the telltale signs of the betrayal from those she loved most dearly?

Could she tell he cared for her?

My God, that’s a hell of a loaded question, he thought. 

But he couldn’t deny it. Granted, her resemblance to Maddy had been the initial cause. Seeing her dressed like Maddy—acting like Maddy—aroused him to the point of shame.

No, make that guilt. He felt as if he were betraying his love for Maddy.

Had it been love, or merely lust? Wasn’t love a mutually shared feeling?

Like Abby, Maddy had loved Andy. Ben could now admit that to himself.

He had not been able to save Maddy from herself, let alone from Andy’s enemies.

But his feelings for Abby were more than just sexual attraction. He now knew he’d lay down his life for Abigail Jane Vandergalen Mansfield, if it came to that. 

He prayed it wouldn’t.

He also prayed the fact she hadn’t stirred from his arms was proof that she felt the same way about him. When she put her finger on his lips, his heart skipped a beat—

Until she whispered in his ear, “
Shhhhh!
Did you hear that? Footsteps!”

He strained his ears until they detected the slow crunch of winter’s dead leaves under the foot of the trespasser.

No doubt, it was the killer who had been sent to find them. 

Or to torture them until they gave him the intel on Operation Flamingo.

She rolled off, but held fast to his hand, lifting him up with her, pulling him along side of her.

This time he had no problem keeping up. 

If he had to, he’d follow her to the end of the Earth.

It was all coming back to her.
The third left. Then the second right. Now that you’re at the three-way split, turn right again—

Or should I take the middle path?

Abby stopped short. Ben wasn’t expecting this, and almost pulled her arm out if its socket. She gave a small yelp.

She didn’t mind at all when he pulled her close, or when he covered her mouth with his hand.

With him at her side, she was no longer scared.

She was determined to get out of this alive. She owed that to Maddy and Andy.

She owed it to Ben, who was risking his life for her.

“Which way do we go now,” he whispered.

“Both paths lead to the same place—the Venus de Milo statue, in the middle of the maze.” To catch her breath, she gasped as she spoke. “But one of the paths was built over an old well. A few years ago the wooden boards covering the hole rotted away. It’s directly in the middle of the path. I found it the last time I was out here, a few years ago, in broad daylight, of course. I mentioned it to Aunt Lavinia, but I know for a fact she never had it fixed because she hasn’t walked through the maze in years, and thought it was a waste of money. She told me, ‘You and Andy can do it when you inherit this old place.’ It’s dangerous. One false step and you’ll drop at least thirty feet. But now I’m glad she held off, since it may save our lives.”

“Or it might kill us first. How are we supposed to choose the best path, eenie meenie miney moe?”

She closed her eyes, trying to envision that day in her mind’s eye. “It’s….it’s the one on the right.”

Okay, then I’ll go right and you go left. Walk slowly, so that he doesn’t hear you. I’ll be doing the opposite because I want to make sure he follows me. That way, at least one of us will get out of this alive.”

“Please don’t say that.” She choked on her words. The thought of losing him, too, was too much for her. 

“No matter what happens, get the file. Then get a hold of Fred. Call the CIA at Langley, and ask for him. His calls are being routed to a buddy. You’re supposed to say something to the effect that his nephew Teddy’s soccer game on Saturday has been postponed so no need to pick him up. Whoever answers will relay whatever you’ll need to know in order to reach him.”

No matter what happens…?

 Of course, it mattered what happened to him! It mattered so much that her heart ached, just thinking about losing him—

“Abby,” he hissed, “Did you get all that?” 

She didn’t say a word. Instead she lifted her head toward his and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

Then she ran down the left path.

Ben crawled up the path. For the most part he hugged the left side along the box hedge, as close as he could, but he swept his right hand out far along the ground, in search of the hole. 

Another twenty paces later, he found it. In fact, he almost fell into it when the palm of his hand found nothing to brace it. He righted himself just in time. He felt around the edge of the hole until he was on the opposite side of the path’s entryway.

There he waited, forcing his eyes to adjust to what little light there was. The thick tall hedges created a void that drank in all the starlight, except for the little that came from directly above him.

He coughed, and hoped whoever had followed them had good enough ears to hear it. As a precaution, he coughed again.

The footsteps were slow and so quiet that they seemed to come on the heels of the wind whistling through the hedge. Finally he saw the dark shadow of a man, his arms held high and together, bent at the elbow, holding a gun. 

“Who the hell are you,” Ben growled.

The man lowered the barrel of the gun and pointed it directly at Ben. “Step forward, hands held high.” The man’s command was accompanied by the click of the gun’s trigger. “You and the woman. Where is she, by the way?”