Wait Until Dark (11 page)

14

LINDSEY LEANED BACK AGAINST A TREE
,
staring out toward the water, grateful that the night was overcast and she couldn't make out the outline of the cliffs. She didn't want to see the jagged drop to the ocean below. Not when she was horrifyingly certain that was where she was headed.

Even so, her memory was excellent. And her imagination was hideously keen.

She winced as the ropes Mike Carl had bound her wrists and ankles with bit into her skin. Her leg muscles ached from her holding them so stiffly, and they screamed for her to shift position. But she didn't dare. Not when one wrong move could mean either losing her balance and toppling to her death, or being shot down by Mike Carl, whose pistol had been aimed at her head since he'd hauled her out of the car a half-hour ago.

"Are you going to tell me who you really are and why you want me dead?" Lindsey asked, turning to peer at her captor, who was squinting into the darkness, obviously searching for someone.

"Huh?" His head came up, and he scanned the area behind them intently, as if he'd heard a welcome sound. "You know who I am," he replied, his gaze fixed on a spot off to their right. "Everything I told you was true. Oh, except the part about being a PI. I made that up. I'm really a regular orderly, although I'd be a helluva good detective. I did a great job with you, didn't I?"

"Exactly what is it you did?" Lindsey asked, picking up on a faint plodding sound and wondering if it was the wind or the arrival of whomever Mike Carl was expecting. "Other than kidnap me and drag me to the edge of a cliff?"

"I did all of it. I made that threatening phone call to you in Connecticut. I rigged the scaffolding. I tailed you around Newport. And now this. I did the whole she-bang."

"Why? Or should I ask, for whom? Who put you up to this? Who is it we're waiting for?"

"That would be me."

Lindsey twisted around as the acknowledger to her question walked out of the shadows.

Recognition was instant, even though the ethereal-looking woman who joined them hadn't been publicly photographed in years. One didn't forget those aristocratic features and china-doll looks.

Camille Falkner.

Lindsey was so stunned, she could barely speak. "Mrs. Falkner?"

"None other." She loosened the scarf around her hair, letting it fall to her shoulders. "Fine work, Mike," she commended, reaching into her pocket to pull out a folded slip of paper. "Here's a check for ten thousand dollars made out to cash. Take it, and run along. Just leave me your car. I'll park it in the lot at Rolling Hills. You can pick it up tomorrow. Oh, and I'd appreciate your pistol. I doubt I'll be needing it, but one never knows."

"Sure thing, Ms. Falkner." Beaming, he took his check and handed her the gun. With a quick glance at Lindsey, he took off.

"Now then - we're alone." Camille's hand was steady as she aimed the pistol at Lindsey. She walked over, taking Lindsey's chin between her fingers and angling her face so she could study it. "You have Harlan's coloring and your mother's bone structure," she pronounced, releasing Lindsey's face. "A striking combination. No wonder Nicholas Warner is so enchanted. He never could resist a pretty face." Anger glistened in her eyes. "I suppose the same applies to Harlan, or you wouldn't have been conceived, would you?"

Lindsey swallowed. This woman might be unbalanced, but she was completely aware of what she was doing.

"Do you intend to kill me?" she asked Camille. "Is that why you had me brought here?"

Camille sighed. "I'm afraid so. I hoped it wouldn't come to this. In fact, I actually tried to forget your existence over the past years. Of course, Harlan made that impossible with his fixation on you and Irene. He even tried to leave me for her, did you know that? I made quick work of that plan. Anyway, things seemed to be under control. Harlan was my husband, even if we weren't able to live together. Mike kept tabs on his loyalties and reported back to me at Rolling Hills. Harlan didn't go to Irene - not once. I was satisfied."

Her expression hardened, and her fingers tightened on the pistol. "Then, my beloved Harlan died. I thought nothing could be more painful than that - until Mike showed up in my room to break the shocking news to me that you'd been left a sizable inheritance, including my summer house. That wouldn't do. Not at all. Truthfully, I didn't originally plan to kill you. Not in cold blood. My plan was to make you vanish from our lives. But you refused to do that. I tried everything from threats to an ugly construction accident. Nothing worked. Which leaves only one alternative."

Lindsey fought back her fear, twisting her hands wildly in an effort to free them. But what good would that do? Even if by some miracle she managed to free her hands
and
feet, Camille had a gun. She'd shoot her down in a heartbeat.

Reason. She had to try reason.

"You're talking about murder, Mrs. Falkner. Surely you don't think you can get away with that?"

"Of course I can," Camille replied calmly. "I've killed before. I ran over our groundskeeper the night Harlan announced his plans to leave me. Stuart thinks I've wiped the incident from my mind, but I remember it quite dearly." A smile curved her lips. "Being an unstable alcoholic has some wonderful advantages. No one ever expects you to be lucid. You can get away with anything - even murder. Especially if you're a Falkner. Besides, it will be days before your body is found, and even longer before it's identified. At first, everyone will assume you went back to Connecticut. Once they realize you're at the bottom of the Cliff Walk, they'll think you went for a stroll and had a terrible accident. Tragic, but true."

“What if I put up a struggle?" Lindsey tried. "Even bound, I can manage that. You'd have to shoot me, which means the police will find a bullet hole in my body and realize my death was a homicide, not an accident."

"True," Camille conceded. "And they'll be looking for suspects. But I'll never be one of them. I'm an inmate at a medical institution, confined to the grounds - remember?"

Lindsey stared at her in amazement. "Your children think you're emotionally frail. The fact is, you have nerves of steel. What's more, you know exactly what you're doing."

"That's true." Camille frowned. "As for Stuart and Tracy, I've hated misleading them. Unfortunately, it was the only way for me to have free rein to do what I needed to do. If I hadn't created the illusion of being unfocused and unstable, Rolling Hills would have kept a much tighter leash on me. So would my children, given that they love me and would want to protect me. I needed to work closely with Mike, to have him do my legwork for me. It all played out beautifully. Someday I'll tell Tracy and Stuart the truth. They'll understand. They'll more than understand - they'll applaud my actions. They want you gone every bit as much as I do." Abruptly, she reached out and grabbed Lindsey's arm, yanking her forward with a surprising amount of strength. "Now then, I need you to take a few more little hops. Then I'll give you one hard push. Gravity will do the rest."

"No." Lindsey began struggling, her survival instinct taking over, no matter what the cost. She twisted her body fiercely from side to side, praying that her defensive motions would force Camille into using both hands, and that she'd lose her grip on the pistol. Even if that plan failed, Lindsey wouldn't give in. Let the woman shoot her. The thought of dying that way was far less gruesome than the thought of plunging to her death. And if the bullet that killed her was traced to Mike Carl's gun, there'd be a better chance of Camille being found out.

"Let go of me!" Lindsey elbowed Camille hard enough to shove her aside.

The motion caught Camille off guard, but she recovered quickly and without dropping the pistol. Steadying herself a few feet from the edge of the cliff, she grabbed Lindsey's arm again, her nails digging into her flesh. "Damn you," she bit out. "You're going over that cliff. You're going to be erased the way you should have been twenty-six years - "

"Mother!" Stuart's shout broke through the trees, and he rushed forward, stopping fifty feet away. "Don't do this. Let her go."

Camille started, her brows drawing together in puzzlement as she angled herself toward her son. "Stuart? How did you find me?"

"Let Lindsey go," Stuart repeated. "Please. Before it's too late."

"You know I can't do that, sweetheart. She should never have been born in the first place."

"You can't erase that." It was Tracy who spoke, coming up behind her brother. "Mother, listen to me. I don't want her in our lives either. But this isn't the answer. The police are here. They've surrounded the area, I've begged them to hold their fire, but if you don't back off, they're going to sacrifice your life to save Lindsey's. Is that what you want?"

"The police?" Camille's puzzlement turned to shock. "You called the police? Why?"

"Because we were worried about you," Stuart replied. He was aware that Lindsey was taking advantage of the distraction he was providing, moving subtly away from the edge of the cliff while Camille spoke to him and Tracy. He kept talking, giving Lindsey time to put distance between herself and his mother. "You disappeared from Rolling Hills. We thought you might hurt yourself." A quick sidelong glance at a spot diagonally behind Camille, where Nicholas was closing in. "Mother, listen to me. You're not thinking clearly. Everyone understands that. So just put down the gun and everything will be all right."

Camille was opening her mouth to refuse when Nicholas lunged from behind. He grabbed her, knocking the gun to the ground with one sharp blow, and locking his arm around her waist to keep her from retrieving it. She whimpered, her head snapping around so she could see who her captor was, struggling against him even as she did.

"Nicholas, get your hands off of me!" she commanded.

"Don't tempt me, Camille," Nicholas ground out, glaring pointedly at the cliff's edge, sparks of rage blazing in his eyes. He looked furious enough to kill.

"Nick, please - don't hurt her," Stuart begged. He made his way over, even as the police began to close in. "Please."

"We'll take it from here, Mr. Warner," one of the officers assured him, his gun poised and ready.

Nicholas didn't need a second invitation. He handed Camille over to the cop, then went to Lindsey, who'd sunk down on the grass, shaking. "Are you okay?" he muttered, squatting down beside her.

She didn't trust herself to speak. She just nodded, then rested her head against him as he untied the ropes at her ankles and wrists.

"It's over," Nicholas told her, bringing each wrist to his lips. "The whole nightmare is over." He looked up, watching as the cops handcuffed Camille and led her away, Stuart and Tracy flanking her like devoted soldiers.

"We'll need Ms. Hall to answer some questions," another officer informed Nicholas.

"In the morning," Nicholas replied firmly. "Right now, she needs some rest."

"Yeah, okay, but first thing tomorrow."

'I'll be at the station at nine," Lindsey promised in a shaky whisper.

"We both will," Nicholas amended. He stood, swinging Lindsey into his arms and heading away from the Cliff Walk. "Come on," he murmured gently, pressing his lips into her hair. "It's time to go home and make those plans I was talking about."

15

"THAT THREE A.M. PHONE CALL
made to your apartment was traced to Mike Carl's home phone," Leland Masters informed Lindsey, propping his elbows on his desk. "The police called me with that information today."

"Not a surprise," Lindsey murmured. She and Nicholas had dropped by Leland's office to tie up loose ends and to touch base on the legal status of the Falkners. After that, they were driving up to the Cape for a much-needed weekend away.

"Also with regard to Mike Carl, the police discovered he had a criminal record. Breaking and entering, as well as assault."

Nicholas frowned. "How did that manage to stay hidden? Wouldn't Rolling Hills have uncovered it in his background check?"

"If he'd had one, yes. Apparently, Mike Carl's association with Camille predated her stay at Rolling Hills. He worked at a local clinic, and supplied her with extra pills when she needed them. Once she was committed, she panicked, and wanted Carl close at hand, both to smuggle her pills, if need be, and to appease her paranoia by checking on Harlan's actions. She got Rolling Hills to bypass the background check. She provided Carl with a personal reference, said she knew him and his family. Based on her recommendation, he was hired, and assigned to the group of rooms that included Camille's. That gave them ample opportunity to touch base. She worked the whole thing out quite nicely. Right down to having damning information to blackmail Mike Carl with, if need be."

"And here we thought Camille was spaced out, oblivious to everything," Nicholas muttered. "She's like a barracuda."

"A very sick one," Leland reminded him. "Very sick. She was desperate to hold on to Harlan, even in death."

"I assume you'll be her defense attorney," Lindsey said. "And Stuart and Tracy's, too."

"Actually, no. I handle their business, and their trust and estate work. I've recommended a top-notch criminal attorney, I'll confer with him as needed." Sighing, Leland made a steeple with his fingers, and rested his chin atop them. "Stuart and Tracy are pleading guilty as accessories to vehicular homicide in the death of their groundskeeper. With any luck, their sentences will be kept to a minimum. As for Camille ... I realize her crimes against you were premeditated, Lindsey, but she's insane, nonetheless. A high-security institution is the best place for her, not a prison. I'm sure the courts will agree with that." He gazed at Lindsey. "Does my sympathy for them anger you? Because if it's any consolation, their lives will never be the same. This scandal will haunt them forever."

"No, it doesn't anger me," Lindsey replied. "The Falkners are your clients, and your friends. They have been for years."

"And Harlan would want it this way," Leland added quietly.

"I'm sure he would."

Nicholas reached over, took Lindsey's hand. "Speaking of what Harlan would want, Lindsey and I have some news."

"Oh?" Leland's brows lifted.

"We're getting married. Right after Lindsey's mother gets home from Europe." Nicholas's lips twitched. "Surprised?"

"No. But very pleased" Leland rose, extended his hand first to Lindsey, then to Nicholas. "This is welcome news indeed." He smiled - a broad, genuine smile that reached his eyes. "It seems Harlan was right. Then again, he usually was."

Lindsey leaned forward in her chair. "So Nicholas wasn't imagining things. My father did do a little matchmaking."

"No, he did a
lot
of matchmaking," Leland confirmed. "He was absolutely sure you two belonged together." Wistfulness softened his smile. "He was also determined to give you the future he wanted desperately for your mother, but could never give her - the opportunity to spend your life with the one you love."

Feeling Nicholas's fingers tighten around hers, Lindsey smiled through her tears. "Well, he succeeded. He did more than succeed. He brought Nicholas into my life. He also brought me closure, a sense of peace, and the joy of knowing I had a father - a
real
father. I only wish I could tell him - " She broke off, emotion clogging her throat.

Leland watched as Nicholas stood, drew Lindsey into his arms, and held her there, all the love in the world shining in his eyes.

"He knows, Lindsey," Leland replied with absolute certainty. "Believe me, he knows."