The Woman (32 page)

“Why didn’t you tell me this stuff before we got here?”

“It would make more sense if you could see the house and grounds while I told you. Out this far, with the noise from the rain, we’re okay talking long enough to set this up.”

“What do we do first?” Linda asked.

“First I get in. You stay here. Under no conditions are you to go onto the porch. There are lights they will turn on if they hear something. And you’d leave wet tracks on the slate flooring. We’re going to move about twenty yards to that group of large bushes to our right.” He pointed. “That’s where you’ll wait. They will shield you if Victor comes out to his car or to see his brother at the guard gate. Just don’t move, not at all, and he won’t see you.”

“But he’ll find his brother dead?”

“If he goes up that way, I’ll know it and deal with it. You just stay where you are until you see the drapes open over those double French doors. Then come quickly and get inside.”

“So, you’re definitely going in without me?”

“Yes. My point of entry could be upstairs. That means climbing. Alone I can adapt to the conditions and any resistance I encounter. Then again, I may just open the front door for you from the inside.”

“Isn’t all this a bit iffy?”

“Sometimes split-second planning is needed. The current situation calls for a looser, flexible plan.”

“What if you don’t find a way in?”

“Then we’ll ring the bell.”

“Are you insane?”

“Not important.”

Chapter 49

Linda felt Ryan’s hand tighten on her arm. Then he said, “Let’s get moving.” The next thing she knew they were running. She looked back to see her footprints disappearing in the wet grass.

My God. I’m actually doing this.

She wanted to stop and pray for their success, but there was no time. Besides, she doubted a prayer for a successful murder would be answered.

They reached their first goal, the group of bushes about twenty yards from the house from which she would have a good view of the double French doors through which Ryan would signal for her to enter.

“You’ll be safe here. Don’t move if Victor comes out.” He reached up and wiped a raindrop from her nose. Then he kissed her. Then he left her.

* * *

When Ryan passed the double French doors, he could see a pale shadow through the drawn drapes. Webster was in his office, at his desk. Locked French doors were not that hard to bust through, but he didn’t know Victor’s location and he didn’t want to turn the night into a firefight with Victor.

He was guessing his quiet point of entry would be a single French door into Webster’s master suite. An eight-foot wall surrounded a twelve-by-fifteen private garden/spa area immediately outside that French door. The private garden included an in-ground hot tub that Webster sometimes used to ease his arthritis before retiring for the night. Ryan had helped Webster design and test the security system on the outer estate wall several years ago so he knew this smaller private-area wall had the same security sensors. There were also motion detectors positioned about three feet out from the wall. However, Webster generally kept the motion detectors off because small critters often tripped the system. He also knew that Webster had spoken of having that system upgraded. Bottom line: Ryan would need to proceed under the assumption the motion detectors had been enhanced and were fully operational.

Despite these restrictions, this private garden and the door into the master suite would be his first choice entry point. Victor would not be in Webster’s private wing so if he got inside as he hoped, he should be able to get deep into the house without being detected.

Ryan circled the private patio wall, staying ten feet out to avoid any chance of somehow tripping the motion detectors. When he was ten feet past where the wall abutted the house, he found what he had remembered, a control box for the automated watering system. The box was on the outside wall of the master bedroom near where it jutted out to accommodate the larger media room adjoining the master suite. The control box stuck out less than a foot from the wall and would not likely hold his weight for any length of time.

Ryan placed his right foot on top of the box and heard the stress brought on by the pressure. He made his move quickly, hoisting himself up from the box while literally falling away from the wall to which it was attached. As he gained height, he grabbed the edge of the adjoining roof with his left hand. Then he grabbed the cornering wall with his right and pulled himself up onto the roof.

He silently moved toward the back of the house directly above the private garden and the door into Webster’s master bedroom. From there he lowered himself, hung from the edge, and dropped onto the outside slate tile flooring.

The French door was on the alarm system, but the alarm would not be engaged until ten o’clock when it came on along with the automated lights and alarms system. The alarm for this door also had a manual turn-on in the event Webster went to bed before ten, something he rarely did and apparently had not done tonight. The door had a normal knob and a deadbolt. Both had been engaged.

Ryan unzipped his outer rain jacket and his inside jacket. Then he glanced at his watch: nine-fifteen. He had forty-five minutes before the alarm and lights would go on. From inside his jacket he took out a diamond glass cutter and began center cutting one of the glass panels in the French door. If Webster had gone to bed early, Ryan would need to quickly immobilize Webster and then find and eliminate Victor. He finished the cut and, using the suction cup he had first attached to the glass, removed the cut circle and placed it in the garden under the leaves of one of the nearby plants. After putting the glass cutter and small suction cup back into one of the pockets inside his jacket, he reached through the hole, released the deadbolt and turned the knob.

The door opened.

He drew his Beretta and stepped through the door. Once inside, he took a plastic bag from inside his rain jacket. Then he removed his outer rain pants and jacket, his hat and overshoes so he would not leave a water trail to reveal his presence or his location should he get into it with Victor. He placed the wet clothing in the plastic bag, and began moving toward the light spilling into the hallway.

* * *

The heavy rain continued to shoot out of the dark sky that roofed everything as far as Linda could see. She was wet and cold, but not shivering thanks to the thermal underwear Ryan had given her to wear. The water heavy shrubs she stood behind provided some cover, but as the winds swirled, the rain came at her from differing angles. She wanted to turn her back away from the rain that was now slamming into her face, but she couldn’t. She had to keep her eyes riveted on the slightly illuminated drapes over the double French doors, and pray for Ryan to open them in the next minute, if not the next second. When he did, the light inside would tumble out across the driveway toward her and she would dash for those doors, trusting Ryan had things under control and she would be safe inside. The idea of finally facing this monster, Webster, made her both eager and frightened. The short-term attraction of running away continued to claw her mind, but she stood her ground.

Fifty-nine-one-thousand. She looked down at her hands as the cold thumb on her right hand curled inward, joining her fingers to form a fist on that hand. The other hand, already a fist, told her that ten minutes had passed. Ten minutes that had passed like ten hours. With the passing of the eleventh minute she would need to start uncurling her fingers. Still, she waited for Ryan Testler, trusted the killer, gambling her life.

One-one-thousand.

Two-one-thousand.

* * *

Ryan continued down the hallway, his Beretta in one hand, the bag of his wet clothes in the other. The honey-colored light oozing out from Webster’s office silently blunted against the picture of Webster’s deceased wife that hung on the wall at the turn of the hall. The light cast a strange shadow across the face of Meredith Webster, a hard looking woman, slender, dressed all in black, with black hair cut in bangs a little long for the elevation of her eyes. The woman had not been attractive, yet she had possessed certain warmth. She had also been wealthy, extremely so, and had left it all to Alistair Webster. Since her death, to Ryan’s knowledge, Webster had engaged in no serious relationships.

From the last time he had looked at his watch, Ryan estimated that the fifteen minute point where Linda was to cut and run was drawing near. He couldn’t divert his attention long enough to again access his watch. He guessed he had two minutes, three tops.

He stepped into the office doorway.

Webster looked up.

Chapter 50

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Webster’s voice had not sounded like him. Not tired exactly, more like he hadn’t spoken in a while.

“Good evening, Mr. Webster.”

“You’re supposed to be in Vegas. What is this about?”

Ryan dropped his bag of wet clothes near the wall. While keeping his eyes on Webster, he reached behind himself and closed the door back into the hallway. Then he lowered his Beretta, holding it along the side of his thigh.

“Linda Darby was never a threat,” Ryan said. “She an ordinary woman, actually quite an extraordinary woman, but she never posed a risk to you. She is not the kind of person we set out to deal with. You’ve gone kill crazy.”

“How dare you talk to me like that.”

“I’ll talk to you any damn way I want. The person holding the gun always gets to do that.”

Webster pushed his chair back, the wheels crunching as they dropped into the grout lines in the tile flooring.

Ryan raised his gun.

“I’m just getting comfortable. Don’t get excited, Ryan.”

“Oh, now I’m Ryan. I’ve worked for you for years. Killed six people for you and I’ve always been Testler. Now I’m Ryan.”

Webster turned his tilt-swivel chair, angling it so he was looking right at Ryan.

Ryan moved past Webster until he was near the double doors about ten feet behind the desk. He reached up and hand-pushed the drapes open farther, then slid open the door. A moment later, Linda came inside, and he closed the door behind her.

“I’m guessing,” Webster said, still looking at Ryan, “that you had something to do with my not hearing from Charlie and the death of Blue on the Oregon beach.”

Ryan saw Linda’s lips begin to move. His mind moved quicker. If she said anything about shooting Blue, Webster would see her as a threat. “Be quiet, woman,” Ryan said angrily. Then he spoke to Webster. “Good guess.”

“What is this about, Testler?”

“Mr. Webster, say hello to Linda Darby.”

The muscles in Webster’s face said he had decided to clam up. Then the tension eased. He had changed his mind. “Why in the hell did you bring her here? This is gross insubordination.”

“We passed insubordination when I pulled a gun on you. Now, be polite. I’ve seen you do it before. Welcome to my home, Miss Darby. Like that. Now you try it.”

* * *

So this is the guy. The man who had Cynthia and so many others tortured and murdered. The man who has destroyed my life. The asshole who wants me dead.

Linda just stood there, the rain attacking the glass door behind her, her heart attacking itself. Again she momentarily considered turning and running back out through the door, beyond the Webster estate, back to the car and driving as far as it would take her. Ryan, the most self-contained man she had ever known, could kill Webster. But she didn’t. She just looked at Webster, the personification of evil.

His soft blue eyes appeared enormous behind his reading glasses. He was clearly shaken by this unexpected invasion of his home. He took off his exaggerating glasses and put on a pair that downsized his eyes. His old face looked boyish in some manner she couldn’t exactly identify, and for that matter didn’t care. Webster ran his hands over his paunch, then down his thighs and crossed his legs. His pants rode up to reveal short socks, his calves white and hairless. Then he pushed his wire framed glasses up against the bridge of his thin nose and looked directly at Linda.

“Good evening, Miss Darby. Welcome to my home.”

She moved her eyes from his face long enough to notice a modest sized crucifix mounted above his head on the side wall. The room was framed in dark mullioned panels. A small gooseneck desk lamp brightened part of his desk.

Webster turned slowly to face Ryan. “The Bible dictates that we should honor our mother and our father. I gave birth to you as Ryan Testler. I am your mother and father. How dare you betray me?”

“I’ve seen dogs that wouldn’t claim you as kin.”

“So you think you can make it without my protection? Without the generous sums I pay you?”

“When one rejects the consequences of any course, one accepts the consequences of another.”

“You were always quite the philosopher, Ryan.”

“That’s not my main goal.”

“What is your main goal?”

“I wanna be rich, or a hero. I’d rather be rich, but Ms. Darby here would prefer me as a hero, so it works for me either way.”

“I can take care of the rich part,” Webster said. “I’ll give you one-hundred-thousand dollars to kill her right now. Right here. And dispose of the body.”