The Hunt (27 page)

Leo considered this. “No, I don’t think so.”

“You’ve ruined everything!” Alex’s future bank account was declining in direct proportion to the rate at which the number in the box, and his heart rate, increased.

“Do you need me to explain it again?” Leo asked, his voice calm. He moved his finger, pointing to another box on the screen. “Check this out. It looks like people are making donations, too.”

$25,412, read the number in this box, but only for a second. In a flash it was closing in on $40,000, and this was just the beginning.

Alex let out a bellow of rage. “That’s my money,” he yelled. “You’ve stolen my money.”

“I wouldn’t call it stealing, and it’s all going to good causes,” said Leo reasonably.

“Call him off,” said Alex, his eyes darting around the room. “Somebody call him off. We’ll do whatever he wants us to do. Just call him off.”

“Too late,” I said with a shrug.

“And too bad you can’t Taser him from here, isn’t it?” added Hilary.

“You—” said Alex. His hands clenched into fists, and he lunged for her.

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She shoved an empty chair at him, and it hit him hard, right in the knee. Judging by his cry of anguish, it was the same knee she’d kicked before.

“That must have hurt,” Hilary said with a delighted grin.

“You—” said Alex again, bending over, his face twisted in a grimace of pain.

“What are you going to do now?” Leo asked him from the screen. “Kill her?”

I didn’t know whether it was the lost fortune, the second blow to his knee or the taunting that pushed Alex over the edge, but over the edge he went.

“I was waiting for when I would have time to take the boat out far enough to dump the body,”

he raged. “I couldn’t kill her before then. The body would have started to smell. But I shouldn’t have waited. I should have killed her. And I should have killed you when I had the chance, Leo.

Then you would have been really dead. I should have known you’d spoil everything if you could.”

“Was that a confession?” asked Luisa.

“It sounded like a confession to me,” said Hilary.

“It was definitely a confession,” I said. “Good thing we’re recording this. You got that, right Leo?”

“Got it,” he confirmed, tilting the camera to show the screen of another electronic device. We could see red letters displaying Recording before Leo turned the camera back to his computer screen.

Iggie, meanwhile, continued to rock and moan, and the numbers on the screen ticked higher.

Alex looked wildly around the room, momentarily speechless as he absorbed what he’d just done. With a roar he picked up a chair and threw it at the screen. The chair bounced and tumbled to the floor, leaving a dent on the screen where it had hit, but the numbers in the boxes continued their steady upward climb.

“Alex, Alex,” said Leo. “Haven’t you learned by now that violence solves nothing?”

Apparently he hadn’t, because that’s when all hell broke loose.

Alex picked up a second chair, and he threw this one at the Webcam, knocking it onto the floor before picking up yet another chair. This one he pitched toward the head of the table.

“Get down!” yelled Peter, and everyone dived for cover. The chair crashed into one glass wall, splintering it, and Alex followed it up with another chair, and then another and another. Shards of glass flew around the room as the barrage continued.

Then I heard Ben cry out. There was a thud, and the room went suddenly still.

A second later, rough hands grabbed me around the neck and pulled me out from where Peter had pushed me under the table. Alex yanked me into a standing position, and I felt something cold and hard against my temple. Then I heard the unmistakable noise of a gun being cocked.

“Everybody just shut up and back off,” he yelled. “I need to think.”

I could understand why he needed to think, but I didn’t see why he had to do it with a gun pointed at my head. Ben was out cold, yet again, which was how Alex had managed to steal his weapon. Between getting dumped and then being clobbered over the head twice in two days, Ben might end up winning the prize for the worst San Francisco visit ever.

“Uh, Alex,” I said, as politely as I could under the circumstances. “Do you really want to add a successful murder to the various attempted charges you’ve already racked up?”

That probably wasn’t the right thing to say, because he only tightened his grip around my neck, jabbed the gun harder at my temple, and began edging toward the door.

“Rachel and I are going to go somewhere to think,” said Alex, dragging me backward. “As long as nobody bothers us, nobody will get hurt.”

Personally, I didn’t find this promise credible. Neither did Peter, because he slowly eased up from the crouching position he’d assumed. “Alex, look, it’s not too late to get everything straightened out,” he said, making the smallest of movements in our direction.

Alex lifted the gun from my head and pointed it at Peter. “Don’t take another step,” he said.

“Not even an inch. And that goes for the rest of you, too,” he added, training the gun on the
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assembled group.

Peter held his hands up, palms out. “Why don’t you take me with you, instead?” he said. “We’ve got a history, after all. I could help you talk everything through.”

“Peter, you can’t just switch places with me,” I said. “You might get hurt.”

“Better me than you,” he said.

“Dude, it’s not your choice,” said Alex. “I’m the one with the gun, remember?” As if to remind us, he jabbed it against my temple again.

“What do you care which hostage you have as long as you have a hostage?” Peter asked.

“Well, for starters, you’re a lot bigger than she is. Don’t take this the wrong way, Rachel, but as hostages go, I’d rather have a weakling. No offense.”

“None taken,” I said.

“But I’d make a better shield,” Peter pointed out. “Since I’m bigger. If somebody tries to get at you, they’d have to get through me, and there’s more of me than there is of Rachel.”

“I’m not going to stand here arguing about who I’m taking hostage,” Alex said.

But all of this debate had distracted him. I saw movement from the corner of one eye, and then I heard the sort of grunting battle cry I’d only heard before in Jackie Chan movies.

I would have ducked if Alex didn’t have me in a headlock. There was a whir of navy pant-suited limbs, and the gun went flying in one direction and Alex went flying in another, slamming against the conference table. Miraculously, I hadn’t been touched.

“Ooof!” said Alex, right before one of Caro’s legs whipped out and caught him in the abdomen.

Then her other leg whipped out to catch him in the same sore knee, and he gave a tortured groan.

Caro made the Jackie Chan noise again, and with a final flying kick, she finished him off.

Of course, I thought, watching as Alex fell to the ground. Caro would be a black belt, too, on top of everything else.

30

P erhaps the biggest miracle was that we made it to the airport with plenty of time to spare. The chaos hadn’t ended with Caro overpowering Alex, but things calmed down once the police had taken him and Iggie into custody and began taking statements from us all. After they finished with me, I went to the ladies’ room to make sure I didn’t have any broken glass still caught in my hair.

Under the harsh fluorescent light, my sunburn took on a violet tinge, but that might also have been because everything in the room was purple, from the stalls to the tiled walls to the sinks. I wasn’t sure what they’d charge Iggie with, but I had a feeling he’d end up doing some jail time along with Alex, and I doubted he’d be happy exchanging his purple wardrobe for whatever color inmates were wearing these days.

The door swung open, and Caro walked in.

“Hi,” she said with a smile. “How are you holding up?” I noticed that neither the light nor the purple surroundings seemed to have any effect on her flawless skin tone, and even after her awe-inspiring display of martial-arts proficiency, her hair was smooth and her suit completely unwrinkled.

“I’m fine,” I said. “But I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Thank me? For what?”

“For coming to my rescue like that. It was really impressive.” And surprising, but I didn’t say that aloud.

“Oh, it was nothing,” she said, running her hands under the tap. “Anybody would have done the same thing.”

“Not many people could have done it,” I insisted. “I couldn’t have.”

“It wasn’t a big deal.” She smiled at me again and turned off the water, and I handed her a paper towel from the dispenser.

I hesitated, unsure how to ask what I needed to ask, and also unsure whether it was wise to do so
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without anyone else around. But the building was now swarming with policemen, so I was probably safe enough for the time being, and it was important to get the answer to my question, not only because I was genuinely curious but because it would play a critical role in determining my romantic future. I decided to throw caution to the wind and go for the direct approach.

“You know, I’d thought maybe you were in on everything.”

Caro had been touching up her already perfect lipstick, but now she turned from the mirror.

“Whatever gave you that idea?”

“Yesterday you told me Alex gave you a ride home the other night.”

“I guess I’m going to have to find a new ride for the next cycling-club outing. Who could have known Wednesday would be the last time we ever carpooled?

“Wednesday?”

“We meet every Wednesday during the summer. It’s great to fit in a ride after work when it stays light out long enough.”

“Oh,” I said, as the first in what would likely be multiple waves of embarrassment washed over me.

“Did you think—?”

“You said ‘the other night,’ and I guess I just assumed—”

She started to laugh. “You assumed I meant from the party.”

I fumbled for words, but she wouldn’t let me even begin to apologize.

“Trust me. I’m flattered. Nobody ever suspects me of anything—it makes me worry I’m dull.”

“You’re not dull,” I assured her. “Nobody who did what you did to Alex Cutler could ever be dull.”

Part of me was glad to know she hadn’t been Alex’s accomplice, but a more selfish part of me almost wished she had, because now I absolutely had to say what I said next. There wasn’t going to be a better time, even if it took every drop of willpower I possessed. I took a deep breath, said a mental goodbye to happiness and spoke.

“Caro. You should take Peter back.”

“What?”

“You should take Peter back,” I repeated.

“I thought that’s what you said. Are you serious?”

“It’s obvious that you two belong together. I don’t know why you broke up with him in the first place, but that must have been a mistake.”

Her expression combined shock and amusement. “First of all, I didn’t break up with him. Not really. And second—we were awful together. Just plain awful.”

“He said you broke up with him.”

“I guess I was the one who finally said the words, but things would have dragged on for another fifteen years if I hadn’t ended it. Peter couldn’t stand being the bad guy. And now he keeps trying to set me up with other guys, because he still feels responsible.” She laughed again. “He’s going to really do a number on himself for having tried to foist Alex on me.”

“But you and Peter—” I began haltingly. “I don’t get it. You’re so alike. You’re a perfect match.”

“But don’t you see?” she said. “That’s exactly it—we’re exactly alike. It was one thing when we were eighteen and didn’t know any better, but after a while, well—” She paused, thinking about how to phrase it. “It was too smooth.”

“What’s wrong with smooth?”

“Everything’s wrong with smooth. It’s too easy, too comfortable. Everybody needs some friction. That’s what keeps things interesting.” She paused again. “But speaking of smooth, what’s the deal with Leo? Do you know if he’s seeing anyone?”

Abigail drove us all to the airport. Ben and Hilary were booked on a different airline, so she dropped them off at one terminal and Peter and me at another. Ben’s attempts to convince
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Hilary to give their relationship another shot hadn’t met with much success, but Luisa made no mention of her own return plans. She said goodbye to us at the curb and then got back into the car with Abigail. I wondered how long she’d be extending her San Francisco stay.

Peter offered to get our boarding passes at the electronic kiosk while I went to the newsstand to stock up on reading material. There was a refrigerator next to the rack of magazines and paperbacks, and I realized with a jolt that I couldn’t remember when I’d last thought of caffeine.

It had been an eventful day, packed with distractions of all sorts, but this was still unprecedented. My dare was over, and my arm reached out of its own accord for a Diet Coke, but something in my brain stopped my hand before it made contact. I wasn’t sure how things would untangle themselves when we were back in New York, and Caro’s words had made me think, but I still thought there was a chance I’d lost a fiancé on this trip. At least I’d be able to say I lost a bad habit, too.

The line at security was long, but I spent the wait catching up on the e-mails and voice mails that had filled my BlackBerry, and Peter checked in with his office. I followed him down the concourse while typing out answers to the most easily addressable queries I’d received from work colleagues, and I continued to type as he shepherded me onto the plane and into my seat.

The doors to the jetway closed, and a flight attendant came down the aisle, asking all passengers turn off their electronic devices. I powered down the BlackBerry and stowed it in my bag.

“So,” said Peter. “That was quite a trip.”

“It certainly was,” I said as the plane pulled away from the gate.

“What do you think was the best part?” he asked.

I cast my mind back over the last three days, unsure which part I would describe as best. Mostly there’d been a lot of stress and racing around interspersed with intervals of physical and emotional torment.