The Ugly Duckling

by Iris Johansen

  “I’d like to make love, Nicholas,” she whispered. “If you don’t mind.”

  “You said that the first time you came to me.” He turned over and took her in his arms. “I don’t mind. I’ll never mind. Not now.” He kissed her. “Not for the next fifty years. Always ready to oblige.” Her arms tightened fiercely around him. “If you leave my ribs intact.”

  “I love you, Nicholas.”

  “Shh, I know you do.” He pulled down the cover and moved over her. “It’s all right. I know …”

  6:35 P.M.

  “Nell’s heading south,” Jamie said.

  “Don’t lose her. I’ll be right behind you.” Nicholas put down the phone and left the apartment. He had known the excuse Nell had given him for leaving the apartment was bogus and it had taken all his restraint to let her go.

  South. Monte Carlo?

  He got into his car and pressed on the accelerator.

  Who the hell knew where she was going?

  Wherever it was, she thought Maritz was at her destination.

  And it scared him to death.

  6:50 P.M.

  Pretty Tania had decided to put an end to it.

  Her brown hair blew in the breeze as the red convertible Triumph roared down the highway.

  She was alone.

  Maritz’s car kept pace, but he didn’t try to overtake her.

  She knew he was behind her.

  She knew she couldn’t escape him.

  She knew it was the time of the kill.

  He felt a rush of pleasure as he remembered the struggle she had given him before. It would be even more interesting now that she was fully aware of the danger.

  Stop soon, pretty Tania.

  “She’s heading for the cottage,” Jamie said when Nicholas picked up the car phone. “Maybe it’s all right, Nick.”

  It wasn’t all right:

  If she was going to the cottage, it was because Maritz was there.

  Or would soon be there.

  Christ.

  “Shall I drive right up to the cottage?” Jamie asked.

  Yes. Drive up, stop her, save her.

  “Nick?”

  He drew a deep breath. “No, park at the bottom of the hill and wait for me.”

  7:55 P.M.

  It was dark when Nell drove the car around to the back of the cottage.

  No lights. No other car. She wasn’t late tonight.

  She got out of the car and quickly walked around to the front door. She unlocked it, set her Lady Colt on the doorstep, and turned on the porch light. There was bright moonlight, but she wanted every advantage. She strode over to the edge of the cliff and looked down at the crashing surf. She took several deep breaths and shook her shoulders to loosen the muscles.

  She had expected to be nervous or frightened or angry. Instead, she felt a sense of inevitability and calm purpose.

  Maritz was coming. This was the task for which she had worked and trained.

  She tensed as she saw the lights of a car coming up the road.

  She couldn’t be sure it was Tania until she was a hundred yards away.

  The small red convertible drew up before the front door, and Tania got out.

  “He’s behind you?” Nell asked.

  Tania looked back over her shoulder. “There.”

  A car was coasting slowly, almost leisurely, up the road.

  “Go into the cottage. I unlocked the door.”

  Tania hesitated. “I don’t want to leave you. Do you have a gun?”

  “It’s on the doorstep.”

  “What good is it going to do you there?”

  “If I don’t stop him, he’ll come after you.”

  “For God’s sake, take the gun.”

  She shook her head. “It’s too quick. He didn’t make it easy for Jill. I want to hurt him. I want him to know he’s going to die.”

  Tania strode over to the door, picked up the gun, and thrust it at Nell. “Take it. Or I won’t go inside.”

  Nell took the weapon. There was no time to argue. The headlights were only yards away. “Hurry.”

  Tania ran toward the cottage.

  Nell was suddenly bathed in a pool of light.

  The car stopped in front of her. A man got out and stood by the open door.

  “Where’s Tania?”

  Maritz. He was in shadow, but she would never forget that voice. It echoed in her nightmares.

  “Tania’s inside. You’ll not get to her.”

  He came forward, his gaze traveling from her tennis shoes and jeans to the gun in her hand. “She called in the cops? I’m disappointed in her.”

  “I’m not the police. You know me, Maritz.”

  He peered at her. “I don’t know— Calder? The Calder woman?”

  “I knew you needed only to be prodded.”

  “Lieber did quite a job. You should thank me.”

  Searing rage blazed inside her. “Thank you? For killing my daughter?”

  “I forgot about the kid.”

  He was telling the truth. It had meant so little to him that he had forgotten he had murdered Jill.

  He took another step forward. “But I remember now. She was crying, trying to get to the balcony.”

  “Shut up.”

  “She saw me in the cave. I told Gardeaux I was afraid that she’d recognize me. But that was a lie. Killing a kid is special. They’re soft, and the fear is so keen, you can taste it.”

  Her hand holding the gun was shaking. She knew it was what he wanted but he was destroying her composure, killing her with words.

  “The knife went in once, but it wasn’t enough. She was too—” He leapt forward and jerked the gun up, backhanding her cheek with his other hand.

  She fell to the ground.

  He was on top of her, staring maliciously down at her. “Don’t you want to know how she screamed when I—”

  Her fist struck him in the mouth. She rolled to the side, dislodging him.

  Moonlight glittered on the edge of the blade in his hand.

  The knife. She sprang to her feet and backed away from him. Memories whirled back to her.

  Medas. I’m helpless. Don’t hurt me. Don’t hurt Jill. Why won’t he stop?

  “You can’t stop me.” Maritz came toward her. “You couldn’t do it then. You can’t do it now.”

  He really is the bogeyman.

  He just kept coming.

  “Come on,” Maritz murmured. “Don’t you want to hear some more about how I stabbed the little girl? How many times it took?”

  “No,” she whispered.

  “No guts. You’re the same sniveling woman. New face but just the same. It won’t take me a minute to finish you and go after Tania.”

  The words struck her like a dash of ice water. Tania would be the victim here. Not Jill. This wasn’t Medas and she wasn’t that woman anymore.

  “The hell you will.” She whirled and back-kicked him in the stomach.

  He grunted with pain and doubled over. Before she could follow through, he’d recovered and spun away.

  She moved toward him. “You won’t kill Tania. You’ll never kill anyone again.”

  “Good.” He was smiling. “Fight me.”

  She kicked at his arm and the knife went flying.

  He muttered a curse and dove for the knife.

  She ran toward him.

  He was up, slashing with deadly accuracy.

  Blinding pain. Her upper arm …

  He was coming, always coming, smiling.

  She backed away, fighting the pain.

  She was on the edge of the cliff and he was coming toward her. The sea was crashing below her.

  Medas.

  No, never again.

  She waited for him.

  “Are you ready?” he whispered. “It’s coming. Do you hear it whisper to you?”

  Death. He was talking about death. “Oh, yes, I’m ready.”

  He dove toward her. She stepped aside and twisted the arm holding the kni
fe.

  The ball of her hand shot up and struck him beneath the nose, shattering bones and sending the fragments into his brain.

  He swayed and tumbled backward off the cliff.

  She took a step closer and watched the waves washing over his broken body.

  Down, down, down, we go …

  She sank down on the ground.

  It’s done, Jill. It’s over, baby.

  “Nell.”

  It was Nicholas, she realized dazedly.

  “He’s dead, Nicholas.”

  He took her into his arms. “I know. I saw it.”

  “For a while I didn’t think I could—” She looked up at him. “You saw it?”

  His voice was uneven. “And I never want to go through anything like that again.”

  “You watched it and didn’t interfere?”

  “You went to a lot of trouble to make sure I didn’t step in. I knew you’d never forgive me if I cheated you of Maritz.” He paused. “I almost did anyway.”

  “I had to do it alone, Nicholas.”

  “I know.” He stepped back and looked at her arm.

  “It’s stopped bleeding, but we’d better get to the cottage and get that bandaged.”

  Tania was coming toward them. “We did it?” she asked quietly.

  Nell looked back at the cliff before starting toward the cottage. “We did it.”

  Joel’s expression was forbidding as he stalked out of the emergency room.

  Tania sighed. She had known he would be angry.

  “Her arm is all right?” Tania asked.

  “Fine. She lost some blood, so they’re keeping her overnight.”

  “You wish to divorce me?”

  “I’m considering it.”

  “You must not do it. I’ve learned all about alimony from your ex-wife. I’m sure I could do it better. You would be beggared.”

  “I’m not in a mood for jokes.”

  “I had to do this, Joel.” She moved into his arms and laid her head on his chest. She whispered, “I know you wished to protect me, but I could not allow it. You are too dear to me. But I promise I’ll let you slay the next mugger who approaches me. I’ll even go looking for one. I hear Central Park has them lined up for inspection. Suppose we stop off in New York and—” He was chuckling and she looked up at him. Good. The storm was over. “You don’t think that’s a good idea?”

  “You’d do it, wouldn’t you?” He looked down at her. “I can’t handle this. It can’t ever happen again, Tania.”

  “I promise. But I was not really in danger.”

  He snorted derisively.

  “No, truly.” She smiled up at him. “I was only Paul Henreid. Nell was Humphrey Bogart.”

  Nicholas sat down in the chair beside Nell’s bed and took her hand. “How are you?”

  She knew he was asking about more than her physical condition. “I don’t know.” She shook her head. “Peaceful. Numb. Empty.”

  “Joel did a good job stitching your arm. You won’t have a scar.”

  “That’s good.”

  “I’ve made reservations for a flight tomorrow. I’m taking you back to the ranch.”

  She shook her head.

  “You’d like us to stay here for a while?”

  God, she was finding this hard to say. “I want you to go back to the ranch.”

  He went still. “Without you?”

  She nodded jerkily. “I need some time alone.”

  “How much time?”

  “I don’t know. I’m not sure. I’m not sure about anything anymore.”

  “I’m sure. I’m sure you love me.”

  “I’m afraid, Nicholas,” she whispered.

  “That I won’t live forever? I can’t solve that for you.” He touched her cheek with a finger. “You’ll just have to decide if the time we have together is enough.”

  “Easy to say. What if I make the wrong decision? It could happen.” She thought a moment before continuing. “Do you remember what I said about the steps people take to become complete? I told you then I was stunted, splintered. I’m no better now.”

  “I can help you.”

  “You can shelter me. You can’t help me. I have to do it alone.”

  He smiled lopsidedly. “So you’re going away to become a swan?”

  “I’m going away to heal and grow up and get my life together.”

  “What will you do?”

  “Paint, get a job, talk to people. Whatever it takes.”

  “And I’m not included?”

  “Not yet.”

  “But you’ll come back to the ranch when you’re ready?”

  “If you still want me.”

  “Hell, yes, I’ll want you.” He stood up and gazed into her eyes. “I’ll give you your space, but I don’t promise I won’t come after you.” He kissed her quick and hard. “Hurry it up, dammit.”

  He left her.

  Her eyes filled with tears. She wanted to call him back, to tell him she’d get on that plane with him and never look back.

  She wouldn’t do it. She wouldn’t cheat him by giving him less than a whole person.

  And she wouldn’t cheat herself.

  Epilogue

  “There’s someone at the gate,” Michaela said.

  Nicholas looked up from his book. “Who? Peter? Jean was supposed to bring him over to show me Jonti’s puppy.”

  “It’s not them.” She turned away. “Go down and see for yourself.”

  “Why should I go down? Why don’t you just buzz whoever it is through?” He suddenly realized Michaela looked entirely too satisfied; there was almost a smirk on her usually impassive face. Nicholas slowly rose to his feet. “Who is it?” He didn’t wait for an answer. He was out on the porch, shading his eyes from the autumn sun with a hand.

  She was standing by the gate intercom, dressed in jeans and a plaid shirt. The sunlight picked up the shimmer of gold in her hair.

  He started walking toward her. It seemed to take him a long time to reach the gate.

  He stopped and stared at her. God, she looked wonderful; beautiful and strong and free. “You took your time about it. More than a year.”

  “I’m a slow learner. It took me a while to get it right.”

  He tilted his head. “Madame Swan, I presume?”

  “You’re damn right.” A radiant smile lit Nell’s face. “Open that gate and let me in, Tanek.”

  About the Author

  IRIS JOHANSEN, who has more than twenty-seven million copies of her books in print, has won many awards for her achievements in writing. The bestselling author of Killer Dreams, Blind Alley, Firestorm, Fatal Tide, Dead Aim, Body of Lies, The Search, and many other novels, she lives near Atlanta, Georgia, where she is currently at work on a new novel.

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  The phone was ringing.

  Ignore it, Eve told herself, her fingers moving swiftly on the skull reconstruction she’d given the name Marty. She could call whoever it was back when she was through working. The phone was set for speaker and she could pick up if it was Joe or Jane. She was getting too close to that important last step in the sculpting.

  On the sixth ring the answering machine picked up.

  “I need to speak to you. Answer the phone, Ms. Duncan.”

  She froze, her fingers stopped in midstroke. Luis Montalvo. Though she had spoken to him only twice, that faint accent was unmistakable.

  “I know you’re there. You haven’t left that cottage in the last week.” His voice became faintly mocking. “Your dedication is admirable and I understand you’re brilliant at your job. I look forward to having both focused soon on my behalf.” He paused. “Do pick up the phone. I’m not accustomed to being ignored. It upsets me. You don’t want to upset me.”

  And she didn’t want to pick up the phone. He might jar her out of the zone of feverish intensity she needed when she was working this close to completion. Dammit, she had hoped he wouldn’t call her again after she’d turn
ed him down when he’d phoned her over a week ago.

  “I won’t give up, you know.”

  No, he probably wouldn’t. Montalvo had been polite during the first call, and even after she’d refused his offer the second time he’d phoned, he’d displayed no anger. His voice had been smooth and soft, almost regretful, yet there had been a note beneath that velvet courtesy that had puzzled her. It had made her uneasy then, but tonight it filled her with impatience. She had no time for this now. Marty was waiting.

  She strode across the room and picked up the phone. “Montalvo, I’m very busy. You’ve had your answer. Don’t call me again.”

  “Ah, how delightful to hear your voice. I knew you wouldn’t be so rude as to leave me hanging on that dreadful answering device. I hate impersonal machines. I’m a man of emotion and passion and they offend me.”

  “I really don’t want to hear what you love or hate. I don’t care. I want to get off this phone and forget you exist.”

  “I realize that sad fact. You’re absorbed in your latest reconstruction, of that boy found buried in Macon. Have you named him yet? I understand you name all the skulls you work on.”

  She stiffened. “How do you know that?”

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  “I know everything about you. I know you live with a Detective Joe Quinn of the Atlanta Police Department. I know you have an adopted daughter, Jane MacGuire. I know you’re possibly the best forensic sculptor in the world. Shall I go on?”

  “That could all be public record. And how did you know about the boy murdered in Macon?”

  “I have many, many contacts around the world. Do you want to know who killed him? I could find out for you.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you’re not even in this country. You’re a scumbag of an arms peddler and you live in Colombia, where you can hide out and deal your poison to the highest bidder.”

  He chuckled. “I do like frankness. Very few women I know are willing to tell me the truth as they see it.”

  “Then I’m grateful to not be one of the women you know, you sexist bastard. If I were, I’d probably be tempted to cut your nuts off.”