Silver Linings

by Jayne Ann Krentz

  “From someone who knows about handling delicate situations like this. My aunt Charlotte.” Mattie was already punching in Charlotte Vailcourt's private number, the one that reached her anywhere, day or night.

  When Charlotte came on the line, Mattie explained the situation as rapidly as possible. Charlotte's response was immediate.

  “Say nothing about the Rainbird connection for now,” Charlotte advised. “You're right, we don't know how awkward any of this could be for Hugh or his friend. It's not up to us to start raking up their past, not after all the work they've done to conceal it. Also, he wouldn't want us calling attention to whatever he's planning to do on Purgatory.”

  “I agree. He said it was personal business. What about this creep on the floor? Just another ordinary, run-of-the-mill rapist-murderer foiled by two savvy young businesswomen?”

  “Exactly. As far as you know, you are two innocent women who were followed home by a homicidal pervert. These days no one, especially a cop, will even blink at that explanation. Happens all the time. And he probably won't say much of anything at all to the police without a lawyer. It's in his own best interests to keep his mouth shut.”

  Mattie shuddered. Then she heard the sirens out in the street. “They're here, Aunt Charlotte. I'll call you later.”

  It all happened just as Charlotte Vailcourt had predicted. The gun was a particularly damaging piece of evidence against the intruder, and Mattie's pristine background as a law-abiding, taxpaying member of the business community was unassailable.

  When the furor had died down and the police had taken their leave, Mattie and Evangeline made tea. Evangeline toasted slices of whole-wheat sourdough bread while Mattie tried to call Hugh.

  “No answer,” Mattie said, replacing the receiver reluctantly. “I'll try Abbott Charters.”

  The phone in the office of Abbott Charters was answered on the third ring.

  “Yeah?”

  Mattie frowned at the chewing noises on the other end of the line. She was surprised how clearly she could hear them overseas. “Is this Derek?”

  “Yeah,” said Derek. “Who's this?”

  “Mattie Sharpe. I'm calling for Hugh.”

  “I thought he was in Seattle.”

  “You haven't seen him?”

  “Not since he left for his vacation.”

  Mattie decided not to mention the fact that Hugh's trip to Seattle was not supposed to have been a mere vacation. “What about Silk?”

  “Didn't see Silk last night in the Hellfire, come to think of it. Hang on a second.” Derek yelled across the room. “Ray, you seen Silk lately?”

  “Not for a couple of days at least.”

  Mattie felt herself getting increasingly tense. “Derek, listen, this is important. If you see Silk or Hugh, please ask them to call me or Charlotte Vailcourt immediately.”

  “Right. I'll leave a message on Abbott's desk, and I'll take a note down to Silk's boat. I'll also let Bernard at the Hellfire know. That do?”

  “Yes. Thank you.” Mattie hung up the phone and looked at Evangeline. “That man who broke in here said Hugh and Silk were headed for a trap.”

  “Uh-huh.” Evangeline spread marmalade on a slice of toast. “Sure did, honey. What are you going to do?”

  “I don't know. I can't reach Hugh. No one's seen him, but he should have gotten to St. Gabriel yesterday.”

  “Could have had trouble with connections.”

  “Not this much trouble.”

  “No, guess not.”

  “I'm worried, Evangeline.”

  “Don't blame you. But I don't see what you can do except try to get word to Abbott that he might be walking into a setup of some kind.”

  Mattie jumped to her feet. “I'm going out there.”

  “St. Gabe?” Evangeline stared at her in amazement. “I don't know if that's such a good idea, honey.”

  But Mattie was already heading for the closet where she kept her suitcase. “Something's wrong. I can feel it. I told Hugh he should have taken me with him. Damn it, I told him. He never listens to me.”

  “So what else is new? Men never listen to women.”

  “I've got to go out there and find him. There's a flight at six. If I hurry, I can just make it.” Mattie hauled the suitcase out and opened it on the floor. She went into the bathroom and started collecting her toiletries. “As it stands now, I know more than anyone else does about this whole mess, and I can't get the information to anyone who can help. So I'm going to go look for Hugh myself.”

  “You think he'll appreciate that?”

  “Probably not, knowing him. But he isn't here, is he? So there's nothing he can say about it.”

  “You got a point.” Evangeline looked around. “I'll check into a motel or something.”

  “You're more than welcome to stay here.” Mattie looked up suddenly. “Unless, uh, you're planning to go back to work?”

  Evangeline grinned. “Don't worry, honey. I never work when I'm in the States. Too risky what with the cops and diseases and pimps with guns and everything else you folks have back here. Relax. When you return, your snow-white reputation will still be intact.”

  Mattie grinned. “Pity.”

  It started to rain just as Mattie's jet touched down on the St. Gabriel runway. She made the mad dash across the tarmac to the small terminal along with the rest of the handful of passengers who had been on board.

  Inside the terminal building she paused briefly to try another phone call to Hugh's house and the office of Abbott Charters, but there was no answer at either place. Hoisting her suitcase, she went over to see about renting a car.

  “You're Abbott's lady, ain't ya?” the man behind the counter asked, peering at her intently. “What are you doin' back here without Abbott? He still in the States?”

  Mattie frowned as she picked up a pen to sign the brief contract. “You haven't seen him? He was supposed to be back here ahead of me.”

  “Nope. Ain't seen hide nor hair of him. Course, he could've come through on the evening flight. I don't work evenings.”

  “Yes. Maybe that was it.” She quickly signed her name and collected the keys.

  It took her a few minutes to get the hang of the stick shift in the battered green Jeep, but Mattie eventually pulled out of the small parking lot and onto the main road into town.

  In spite of her deep fears, she was amazed at how comfortingly familiar everything seemed. It was like coming home, she found herself thinking. But that made absolutely no sense. No sense at all.

  She stopped briefly near the harbor to check Silk's boat for signs of occupancy. But there was no one on board the Griffin. Mattie hesitated and then stepped into the stern to check the paints and brushes that were sitting near the easel.

  The brushes were not even damp. Silk had not been at work here recently.

  On a hunch she went across the street to the Hellfire.

  “Well, hello, Mattie,” Bernard said in obvious surprise from behind the bar. “What are you doing here? Where's Abbott?”

  “You haven't seen him?”

  Bernard shook his head. “Sorry. Derek said I was to have him call you if I saw him, but he hasn't been here. I thought he was in the States with you. Supposed to be on a short vacation or something.”

  “He left three days ago. He should have been back here by now.”

  “Unless he stopped off in Hawaii or one of the other islands to pick up some supplies or see some business contacts. He does that, you know. He has a lot of clients scattered all around out here.”

  “I hadn't thought of that,” Mattie admitted. “But what about Silk?”

  “Like I told Derek, Silk hasn't been keeping to his usual routine for the past few days. But I sort of figured that's 'cause Abbott left him in charge of his business, and Silk knows there'll be hell to pay if he tries to run Abbott Charters and drink at the same time.”

  “Thanks, Bernard. If you see either of them, tell them I'm on the island. I'll be at Hugh's house.”
>
  “Sure. You're finally ready to move out here, huh? Abbott said it wouldn't take long.”

  Mattie wrinkled her nose but declined to respond. She got back into the Jeep. She fumbled with the gears again and headed along the island road toward Hugh's small beach cottage. She was not certain what to do next, but she told herself she felt a little better knowing she was on the scene and not sitting thousands of miles away in Seattle. For all the good it did.

  She was beginning to suspect that Hugh and Silk had already left for Purgatory. Perhaps they had rendezvoused in Hades. A cold chill deep in the pit of her stomach made her insides clench. She had to face the fact that Rainbird's trap might already have closed.

  The small driveway in front of the beach cottage was empty. There was no sign of life or recent habitation. Mattie switched off the Jeep's engine and sat for a moment behind the wheel. Her sense of uneasiness was very strong right now. Memories of the horror that had awaited her when she had walked into Paul Cormier's white mansion were vivid in her mind.

  No, she told herself, it would be all right. She was not about to walk into another death scene.

  But the gnawing anxiety was getting stronger. For a second she considered turning the key in the ignition and driving back into town. But she knew she had to look inside the cottage to reassure herself that Hugh or Silk was not lying dead on the floor within. She had to know.

  Mattie forced herself to get out of the Jeep and walk to the front door. She had the spare key Hugh had given her in her hand, but the instant she slid it into the lock, she knew she didn't need it. The door was open.

  Literally sick with anticipation, Mattie pushed open the door and stared into the empty front room.

  She exhaled slowly when she realized there were no dead bodies on the floor. Of course, that still left the bedroom.

  Mattie walked slowly through the eerily empty cottage. There was no evidence that Hugh had been here recently—no coffee cup in the sink, nothing in the refrigerator.

  She was beginning to think that Hugh had never come back to St. Gabriel at all. That meant he had probably gone to Hades or even directly into Purgatory. And apparently Silk had joined him.

  She was too late. Rainbird's trap had closed.

  Mattie opened the bedroom door and found herself looking straight into the barrel of a gun.

  “About time you got here, lady.”

  For an instant she could not breathe. She had been so grateful the house didn't contain any dead bodies that she had not even stopped to think it might contain a few live ones.

  She went very still and looked up into the face of the young man holding the weapon. He was not very tall, but he was heavily built and had a cruel mouth and eyes that had probably never been innocent. He was dressed in military boots and khakis, and he held the gun as if he was very accustomed to it. As she stared at him he made a show of flicking the briefest of glances at his stainless-steel wristwatch.

  “Who are you?” Mattie managed in a tight voice.

  “You can call me Goody. I work for someone who wants to meet you, Miss Sharpe. That's all you need to know.”

  “What have you done with Hugh and Silk?”

  “Me?” The thin brows rose. “Why, nothing. Yet. But they'll be taken care of soon enough. Let's go.” He used the gun to motion her back down the hall. “Move it, lady. We've got a plane to catch.”

  “I'm not going anywhere with you.”

  The man grinned. “That's what you think. You got two choices, lady. Either you walk outside to the Jeep, or I knock you unconscious and carry you out. Take your pick.”

  “What if I don't like the options?”

  “They're the only ones you've got.”

  Mattie looked at him and believed every word he was saying. She turned and walked slowly down the hall and outside to the Jeep. Goody stayed three steps behind her all the way.

  “You drive,” Goody said, glancing once more at his watch.

  “How did you know I was coming here to the cottage?” Mattie asked as she struggled once more with the gears.

  “We knew several hours ago that Mortinson had bungled the operation in Seattle. He didn't report in on time, so he's out of the picture. Christ, the man must have been a complete idiot not to be able to take out one whore and pick you up.”

  “That's what Mortinson was supposed to do? Kill my friend and kidnap me?”

  The man scowled, looking as if he was afraid he'd said too much. “Forget it. Doesn't matter now. You're here, just like we figured you'd be when we found out you'd left Seattle. We knew we couldn't grab you in the St. Gabe airport terminal or near it. Abbott's got too many friends on the island, and they all know you belong to him. Someone would have noticed.”

  “Yes.” Mattie's mouth was dry.

  “I figured you'd check his house sooner or later, so that's where I waited for you. Now, let's move this bucket a little faster. I'm in kind of a hurry.”

  “Don't you think someone at the airport might notice the gun?” Mattie struggled with the gears and backed slowly out of the drive.

  “No one will be close enough to see us. When you get to the airport, drive straight out onto the service road that parallels the runway. The plane will be waiting.”

  It was.

  Everything went just as Goody had told her it would. The Cessna was at the end of the runway. No one appeared to notice the two people who parked the Jeep on the service road and walked out to board the plane.

  That was one of the problems with the casual way things were run out here in the islands, Mattie thought bitterly. This sort of thing would never have happened back home in Seattle. Unauthorized vehicles were simply not allowed out on airport runways back in the States.

  The young pilot glanced only briefly at his unwilling passenger. He nodded once at Goody as the gunman latched the door.

  “What took you so long?”

  “She took her own sweet time. Christ, let's just get this thing off the ground. The Colonel will be getting impatient.”

  Mattie fastened her seat belt, closed her eyes, and wondered where Hugh was.

  They reached Purgatory an hour later. Mattie was once again marched across an active runway and thrust into a waiting vehicle. No one said a word. She was surrounded by three armed men now, Goody, the pilot, and the driver of the car. All wore military-style clothing and all were surprisingly young. Mattie estimated their ages at between nineteen and twenty-three or twenty-four at the most.

  Her stress level, already sky high, went up another couple of notches when she recognized their destination. Paul Cormier's white island mansion looked as beautiful this time as it had when she had first seen it.

  Mattie got out of the car at the point of a gun and walked up the steps to the wide veranda. The door was opened by a young man who looked as if he ordered his clothes from Soldier of Fortune magazine. He had a gun strapped to his thigh.

  “This way, Miss Sharpe.”

  The first thing she noticed was that someone had cleaned Paul Cormier's blood off the white marble. For some reason that made her angry. It was as though some part of her felt the evidence of murder should not be erased until justice was done.

  The anger gave her strength. She walked swiftly down the white marble hall to the wide white room that fronted the house. The view of the sapphire-blue ocean through the bank of open French windows was dazzling. She concentrated on it rather than on the man who was rising from a white leather couch to greet her.

  “Miss Sharpe. Allow me to introduce myself. I am known now as Colonel McCormick, but I believe you are no doubt aware by now of my previous name, Jack Rainbird.”

  Mattie turned slowly to look at him, as if she found him a nuisance when all she really wanted to do was admire the view. She let her glance slide critically over him from head to foot.

  Jack Rainbird was an astonishingly handsome man by any standards. He appeared to be in his early forties, as Hugh had said, but he had the strong, bird-of-prey features that wo
uld not even begin to soften for many years. His eyes were a clear, light, honest blue. His blond hair, graying at the temples, had been precision cut with a razor to lie close to his head. His body was trim and there was a crisp military set to his head and shoulders. He was wearing perfectly pressed khakis. His belt buckle shone and his boots had been polished to a high gloss.

  All in all, Mattie thought, Rainbird had the classic heroic look historically associated with a leader of men. That was, of course, undoubtedly one of the many things that made him so dangerous. The other thing was his undeniable sexual charm. Hugh had been right. The man had it in spades. He exuded it like an aura.

  Mattie felt the first uneasy twinge of a throat-closing claustrophobia.

  “This is Paul Cormier's house,” she said boldly, more to counteract her own tension than anything else. “You have no business here.”

  A smile flickered briefly around Rainbird's finely crafted mouth. “What can I say? Best accommodations on the island, and I like having the best. Besides, our friend Mr. Cormier no longer has any need of his lovely island home.”

  “You killed him.”

  “Do you always jump to conclusions, Miss Sharpe? That is generally considered a dangerous thing to do.”

  “You killed him. Or had him killed.”

  “Obviously your mind is already made up. I imagine I owe that to Abbott. He, naturally, would have a somewhat biased view of events.”

  “Why?”

  Rainbird gave her a look that was half amused, half surprised. “Why, because he hates my guts, of course.” He walked across the beautiful room to a white liquor cabinet. “May I offer you a drink, Miss Sharpe?”

  “No, thank you.”

  “I was afraid you might be difficult about all this.” Rainbird splashed whiskey into a crystal glass. “You've been hanging around with Abbott for too long. The man has poisoned your mind against me.”

  Mattie took a deep breath and asked aloud the question that was screaming in her mind. “Just where is Hugh and his friend Silk?”

  Rainbird smiled at her over the rim of his glass. “Now, that, Miss Sharpe, is what I am hoping you will tell me.”

  She stared at him, open-mouthed. “You mean you don't know, either?”