Aiden was upon her, his breath smelling of bourbon. “Give me the gun. Now. You’ll never see me again.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“It’s true. I’ve got a car and a driver waiting for me down the road.” He pulled a small leather binder from the inside pocket of his jacket. “Got a passport and a plane ticket, too.”
“Where do you think you can run?”
“Like I’d tell you?” He shook his head. “All I’ll say is it’s warm and their cops turn a blind eye to extradition requests. But I need my gun. I can’t outrun the cops without a weapon. There’s going to be a standoff.”
Alarm chimed through Beth. He’d need more than a weapon. He’d need a human shield. He’d need...her.
The woods were suddenly alive with blue and red cop lights strobing through the icy trees and dense underbrush, sirens shrieking in the frigid air—the moment of reckoning was upon them. Aiden’s arm began to rise, and she made a move of her own. Her left arm hoisted the heavy steel flashlight in an arc, catching the right side of his face in a crushing thump of bone.
Aiden screamed and staggered backward, holding his head in his hands.
Beth dodged around him, navigating clumsily through the copse of trees. Head back to the main road. She didn’t need the flashlight now; the glare from first responder vehicles cast a spotlight on the clearing ahead. Aiden clomped behind her, as fast and furious as a bull and gaining on her with every second. Her wet slippers were useless for gaining traction.
She reached the clearing. Several police cars snaked across the narrow road and a couple of them left the road and bumped across the field. Their headlights stung her eyes and she blinked, trying to orient herself in the temporary blindness.
Oomph. A solid mass of weight slammed into her back. An arm encircled her throat, pushing her neck back in a choking hold. She could hardly breathe.
Aiden had gotten just what he wanted. He’d take her down with him if needed. What else did he have to lose?
“Give me the gun,” he growled in her ear.
The gun. Thank heavens she hadn’t dropped it. He might be faster and stronger, but she wasn’t defenseless. Cold metal practically burned into her numbed hand and fingers. Could she do it? Really shoot somebody? Hell, yes. He’d left her no choice. As best she could in the awkward hold, Beth aimed the gun backward and pulled the trigger.
The explosion rang in her ears. The hold loosened, and Aiden screamed in agony. She gulped in a lungful of fresh air. Cops seemed to shout at her from every direction, but she was too wired to make out the words, only the frantic urgency of their voices. Run. Aiden wasn’t through with her yet. Just as her legs obeyed her brain’s command, Aiden lunged at her, knocking her to the ground.
The gun fell out of her hand and she grabbed it. Aiden loomed above her, his dark eyes aglow with desperation and madness and anger mixed with fear. He raised an arm, his hand gripped in a fist. She tried to wiggle out of his grasp but his knee lodged firmly in her gut and his left arm anchored her upper torso. The snow was wet and freezing, seeping through her bathrobe and pajamas. In two seconds Aiden would deliver a knockout punch, take her weapon and make his wild dash to freedom while dragging her along as a hostage. He’d kill her at the first opportunity when she was no longer useful to him.
Beth lifted the gun, not sure if she’d even get off a shot before Aiden’s fist shattered her face. With numbed, stiff fingers, she pulled the trigger and fired. The reverberation of the gun tingled in her palm and the blast deafened all sound. All sensation seemed frozen in the frigid night. A chiaroscuro of black, white and grays punctuated with slashes of red.
There was Aiden’s widened eyes and slackened jaw;
...the crimson patch blooming on his chest;
...the black nighttide lit by red sirens;
...the white snow falling swiftly and silently—a silent witness to murder.
Oh, God. She’d killed him.
Aiden’s body toppled backward several inches and then fell forward. She watched his descent in horror. There wasn’t time to move away. Dead weight crushed her chest. Beth screamed until her throat burned raw. Pandemonium erupted as cops and rescue workers arrived, their voices calling out sharp commands and urgent warnings. A volley of camera flashes strobed the area from officers recording the crime scene.
It was all a jumbled mess echoing round and round in her brain. Strong arms rolled Aiden’s heavy, slack body away. “Is he...?”
She couldn’t form the word, but the man nodded. He had a kind, grandfatherly face that was worn and wrinkled. He awkwardly patted her arm. “Sammy?” she asked.
“They’ve already taken him to the hospital. Are you hurt?”
Beth eased up to a seated position and blinked at the swarm of people standing above. Two men placed Aiden’s lifeless body on a stretcher. She averted her eyes, not wanting to witness the shell of a man she’d believed had cared about her all these years.
“I’m okay but I want to go to the hospital. I need to be with Sammy.”
She struggled to her feet, surprised to find her limbs weak and her vision blurry. Two people rushed forward and supported her from either side.
“Need a stretcher?” one of them asked.
She stiffened her spine and cinched the wet, dirty bathrobe closer against her waist. All she needed was Sammy. She had to be with him, to touch him and see his eyes open again.
Not ten yards away, an ambulance awaited, its back door open and the interior lit. She glimpsed two stretchers and lifesaving equipment on shelves. But there was also another vehicle—the side of it emblazoned with the County Coroner seal. Several workers loaded a stretcher with Aiden’s body wrapped in a tarp.
The cops waved an EMT crew over and she was encircled. Safe and protected. But a tight knot of anxiety cramped her stomach.
Please, God, let Sammy live.
Chapter Nineteen
Beth laid her head beside Sammy’s chest on the hospital bed where he rested. Despite the uncomfortable chair, she was afraid that if she fell asleep it would be days before she awakened. The weariness went bone-deep. She’d showered in Sammy’s private room and Lilah had brought her dry clothes to change into. Her friend, mother hen that she was, had also insisted that she eat a bowl of soup. Now, warmed and sated, her body wanted sleep. She fought the drowsiness, wanting to be the first thing Sammy saw when he awakened.
The doctors had assured her that the surgery to remove the bullet and staunch the internal bleeding had been a success. A couple of nights in the hospital for observation and Sammy could go home.
Home. Beth realized that she thought of Lavender Mountain as her home now. Boston seemed far, far away. Her heart was here in Appalachia—with Sammy. The hospital door opened and Lilah poked her head in, eyebrows raised in question. Beth shook her head no, shuffled to her feet and entered the hallway where Harlan and Lilah stood guard.
“He’s still sleeping, which is a good thing. Sammy needs lots of rest.” She cut Harlan a stern glance. “He’s in no shape to be giving statements or making reports tonight. Probably not tomorrow, either.”
Harlan nodded. “Of course. Besides, I spoke with him just before he went under the knife and I know everything I need to for the time being. I also spoke with Charlotte before she was admitted here.”
“What happened to her?” Beth hadn’t even known Sammy’s partner had been on the scene. Dread weighed on her chest. Had something awful happened to the pregnant cop?
“She’s fine,” Lilah assured her with a quick squeeze of the hand. “Just delivered a nine-and-a-half-pound baby boy. James is beside himself. It’s their first baby.”
Lilah and Harlan exchanged a tender, knowing smile as Beth sighed with relief. At least something good had come out of this night. “Y’all should go on home,” she urged them. “Sammy’s out of danger and I’m fine.”
<
br /> Lilah leaned into Harlan’s side, patting her round stomach. “I’m not going to argue with you. I’m beat. Come by whenever you’re ready. The spare room’s yours.”
Harlan extended a hand toward her. “You’ll always be welcome in our home.”
She shook his hand and his unexpected kindness had her blinking back tears. No wonder Lilah was so in love with this man. He often appeared taciturn and aloof on the outside, but underneath, Harlan was a solid, stand-up kind of guy. Lilah had chosen well.
Beth tiptoed back into the room and resumed her seat by Sammy’s bed. Some color had returned to his face and the chalk-white paleness was gone. His breathing was smooth, deep and regular.
She huddled under a blanket. After all the hours outside in the winter cold, it seemed her body just couldn’t get warm enough. Her lids were heavy, and she gave in to the pleasant lethargy.
Something tugged on her hand and she startled awake. Beth gazed at the unfamiliar, sterile room in confusion for a moment until her eyes focused on Sammy. He smiled at her, his brown eyes warm and gentle. “They told me you were okay,” he said. “But nothing beats having you right here in front of me where I can see for myself.”
“Ditto,” she said past the lump in her throat. “You gave us all a scare.”
“Nothing compared to what I saw when I found you with Aiden.”
She nodded slowly. “You know he—he’s dead now.”
“Harlan filled me in on everything. Don’t you dare waste a moment of grief for his sorry ass. You did what you had to do.”
“I know, but...”
Sammy held out his arms, and she leaned forward, laying her head on his chest and allowing him to comfort her. For the first time since she’d arrived at the hospital, tears slid down her face. But they were good tears this time, healing tears. Sammy’s fingers caressed her scalp and then his fingers stroked her hair. Beth sighed and felt peace settle over her at last.
Long, long minutes later, she pulled away. “Forget about me. You’re the one who’s been shot. How bad does it hurt?”
“I told you I’m fine,” he said gruffly.
“If something had happened to you...” Beth squeezed his hand.
He narrowed his eyes. “Sure everything’s all right with you? You must be exhausted. And devastated.”
“Aiden’s not the worst of it. It’s what he said about Cynthia that I can’t get out of my head.”
“Cynthia?”
“Oh, that’s right. Harlan didn’t get a chance to fill you in on everything. Aiden claimed that she killed my father by injecting him with oxygen. Apparently, an air embolism did him in.”
“Damn it. None of us even suspected there was foul play, Beth. Given his age and history of heart trouble—”
“Of course you couldn’t have known.” Beth stood and began pacing. “I don’t know what to believe anymore. If what Aiden said is true, I want Cynthia to pay for what she did to Dad.”
Sammy frowned. “Don’t expect a confession from her. And I seriously doubt that there’s any evidence after all this time.”
What about justice for her father? Had her stepmother gotten away with murder? Beth hugged her arms into her chest. “Do you think Cynthia killed him?” she asked Sammy.
“We may never know for sure, but I’m inclined to think the answer is yes.”
“Me, too.” She recalled the grim amusement on Aiden’s face as he described how his mother had caused the fatal heart attack. “Harlan told me she called you and rang the alarm about Aiden. Why do you think she warned you I might be in danger?”
“Could have been one of two things. Either she wanted Aiden caught in the act and arrested, leaving her with your inheritance—”
“Or she truly cares about her son and wanted him to get caught before he killed me and possibly ended up on death row,” she said slowly. “I’m guessing it’s the first option.”
“And she might have tipped us off to cover her bases in case an investigation implicated Aiden. That way, she could claim she acted in your best interests over her son’s, even throw doubt on any stories he would tell about her possible involvement in your father’s demise.”
“I bet she hates me now,” Beth muttered. “Not that I particularly care about her opinion. Unless she decides to come after me for shooting Aiden.”
“You’ll never have to see her again, whether or not she’s ever convicted of murder. I won’t let her hurt you,” Sammy promised, his face grim and his eyes flashing in fury. “Soon as I’m able, I intend to have a little chat with her. I guarantee you by the time I’m finished, she’ll never want to step within miles of anywhere you might be. If she knows what’s good for her, and I suspect a person like her always has their best interests at heart, Cynthia Wynngate will never again step foot in the State of Georgia.”
Beth believed him. “There’s only one thing left that troubles me.”
“What’s that?”
“Dorsey Lambert.”
“No need to worry on his account. The man saved both our lives tonight.”
“That’s what I mean. I feel like I owe him.”
“You don’t owe him a thing. But if it makes you feel better, we can write a letter to the parole board recommending he be released from parole.”
“I want to do more than that. After all, my Dad did take his money and placed an undue hardship on his family.” She stopped pacing and nodded her head, decision made. “I’m going to provide him a reward. Enough money so that he can start over in a new life.”
“That’s incredibly generous. Probably more than he deserves. He and his family did stalk you, remember? They also broke into your home and tried to extort money from you.”
She cocked her head to the side and regarded him with a smile. “But they weren’t killers. And Dorsey saved your life. For that, he deserves a fresh start.”
Beth resumed pacing, her heart growing lighter as she thought of the future. There were so many things she wanted to do, so many wrongs to right. As the daughter of a judge, no matter how much her father had erred later in life, her sense of justice ran deep. And she had her dad to thank for it. For many, many years he’d been honest and fair. Whatever had corrupted him later, she’d grown up with his strong role model of integrity.
It was how she’d choose to honor and remember her father.
Her right foot knocked against something on the floor and she glanced down to find what she’d stumbled upon. A black duffel bag was positioned at the end of the hospital bed.
“Harlan brought it over,” he explained. “I asked him to bring that and—”
“What’s this?” She lifted the square canvas that had been leaning against the bag. She held it up to the fluorescent overhead light and chuckled with surprise. The edges were charred, and soot blackened a good portion of the bottom, but she recognized it as one of the paintings she’d been working on at the cabin.
“I can’t believe you kept this.”
“Are you kidding me? I risked life and limb to get them.”
She laughed. “Crazy man. It wasn’t worth it.”
“Sure it was. It’s beautiful. And you painted it.”
She couldn’t tear her eyes from the ruined painting. She could redo it, or even try and repair the damaged parts. But Beth decided she wanted them to remain. They were a reminder of the day Sammy had run out of the burning cabin with a handful of her artwork.
The day she’d fallen in love.
“Come here,” Sammy demanded gruffly, patting the hospital bed.
Beth propped the painting on the metal nightstand and climbed into bed beside him. She ran a hand through his hair, and he planted a kiss on her forehead. “So you think I’m a crazy man?” he teased, his chest rumbling with laughter. “I’ll admit, I’m crazy in love with you.”
It was hard to believe her heart could
go from the depths of despair from only a few hours earlier, to feeling as though it would burst with joy. His admission left her speechless. She knew how deeply his parents’ divorce had affected his willingness to make commitments.
“I’m not asking you to stay here,” he said quickly. “I know you have a life in Boston. But we could see each other long-distance. Plenty of couples—”
She kissed him, long and hard. At last she pulled away. “I don’t want a long-distance relationship. I want to stay right here in Lavender Mountain.”
“But won’t you miss the excitement of Boston?” His brows drew together in consternation. “What about all your artsy friends and visiting museums? We have nothing of the kind to offer here.”
Did he want her to stay or not? Was he still afraid of love and commitment? “I see unparalleled beauty in the Appalachian Mountains that no museum painting can ever replicate,” she said quietly.
Sammy appeared unconvinced. “What about all your friends? Your art classes?”
“I can teach anywhere, including Lavender Mountain. And as far as friends and family, all I ever want, or need, is one person who loves, supports and believes in me.” She jabbed a finger playfully in his chest. “And that person is you. I love you so much.”
“I love you more. But are you sure? Really sure?” Hope flickered in his dark brown eyes, but she also read a worrisome, nagging doubt.
“One hundred percent positive,” she assured him. Then she pressed her mouth against his, expressing all her love in the kiss. She was where she was supposed to be, now and forever. Sammy held her in his arms, and long after he’d finally fallen asleep, Beth lay beside him in utter peace and joy as she watched the snow fall on Lavender Mountain.
* * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from Settling an Old Score by Delores Fossen.
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