by Lisa Jackson
They left the station and Adria felt drained, her entire life turned inside out.
So she was London Danvers.
So she would inherit millions of dollars.
So what?
“Come on, I’ll buy you dinner,” Zach offered, though he looked as tired as she. Beneath the shadow of his beard his tanned skin seemed paler, his eyes haunted. The strain was telling on them both and she wondered how long they could keep up this charade, pretending that the attraction they felt for each other didn’t exist. “I know a great place in Chinatown. We’ll stay in town tonight, then go home and break the news.”
Home. Would she ever think of Portland as home?
She shuddered to think how quickly Ginny’s life had ended. “Who do you think could have done it?”
“I wish I knew,” he said, frowning as they stepped outside where darkness had fallen. The wind blowing in off the ocean was cold, cutting in icy gusts that climbed the steep hills of the city; it swept through her jacket and cut her to the bone.
Zach took her hand in his. She tried to pull away, but his fingers tightened over hers as they walked the three blocks to the space where he’d parked the rental car.
Once inside the Ford, he checked the mirror, then melded with traffic. “Watch in your side-view,” he said, moving from one lane to the other.
“You think someone is following us.”
“Good guess, don’t you think?”
“Here in San Francisco?” she asked, but she’d leaped to the same conclusions as he, the same one drawn by the police.
“You think that we led the murderer…” Her voice trailed off and she stared hard in the mirror, watching other cars switch lanes, seeing nothing out of the ordinary.
“Obviously there was a conspiracy of some kind years ago,” Zach said, his brows drawing together. “And it didn’t involve your mother or…or Witt. So we have to assume that whoever wanted you out of the picture then, was willing to kill Ginny to keep his secret.” His fingers tapped upon the steering wheel. “It makes me wonder about Kat. Was it suicide or murder.”
“Oh God.” Adria shivered. “You think the two deaths, Ginny’s and Kat’s, were linked.”
“Not just linked but committed by the same killer.”
“But who?” she whispered.
“Could be anyone.”
“Someone in the family.” Her stomach knotted. Someone she was related to.
“Maybe.”
“Or someone from the Polidori family,” she said, though the list of suspects was shrinking. True, Anthony Polidori could have been behind the kidnapping and she was certain that he was having her followed, but the Danvers heirs as well could have been a part of the kidnapping. Jason was power-hungry, Trisha, a wounded animal wanting to hurt her father as much as she was hurt by him. Nelson would have been too young, only about fourteen at the time, and Zach, he had been a kid, too.
Satisfied that they weren’t being tailed, Zachary drove to Chinatown and parked in an alley. The restaurant was small, noisy, dimly lit, and packed nearly to capacity. Dishes rattled, people spoke in sharp foreign phrases, and grease sizzled through the open window to the kitchen. They were offered a table for two near the kitchen and Adria didn’t object, though she could barely understand the waitress or any of the patrons who all seemed to speak rapid-fire Chinese.
Still, she was grateful for the crowd. It made things easier. Being alone with Zachary was the difficult part. They ate hot-and-sour soup, spicy chicken, and some shrimp dish that was so hot her nose ran, and washed it all down with Chinese beer. But the food seemed tasteless and she couldn’t forget Ginny Slade’s ashen face, her unseeing eyes, and all the blood in the small bathroom.
After the meal, she drank a thin tea with a flowery aroma that filtered up her nose and brought back a memory—harsh and ugly. The night of the attack, she’d smelled something sweet as this blend—the underlying scent of jasmine. Her fingers slipped. The cup slid to the table and rolled, spilling tea across the varnished surface. Hot tea dripped from the table to her thighs.
“Adria?” Zach asked.
She knew the instant the smell of jasmine reached her nostrils who had attacked her.
“What is it?” Zach demanded, staring at her with harsh gray eyes.
“Everything.” She started wiping up the tea, refusing to look at him, telling herself over and over again she had to be wrong. But she knew. She knew. He grabbed her hand, squeezing it, refusing to let her keep mopping the spill with her napkin.
“What?”
“I think I know who attacked me in the motel,” she said unevenly, wishing she didn’t know the truth.
“What?”
“The person who sent me the nasty notes.”
“How?”
“This tea.” She motioned to the cups on the table. “It’s jasmine, the same scent that was on the person who attacked me.”
A knot formed at the hinge of his jaw and he sniffed the brew. Denial seemed about to fall from his tongue before he shoved the cup of tea away, sloshing hot tea onto the table. “Eunice,” he bit out, his eyes mere slits.
Adria nodded mutely, unable to form the words that hovered between them—that Zachary’s mother had killed Ginny Slade.
“I need to speak with you. Alone.” Eunice left the message on Zach’s cell phone. “There’s something important I need to tell you and the only way you’ll ever learn the truth is to talk to me. Please, Zach, I know you think awful things about me, but they’re just not true. Let me explain what really happened. You’re the only one I can trust.” She slid the receiver into the cradle of the wall phone in her kitchen and didn’t doubt for a minute that Zach would show up.
Soon.
As she sat at the kitchen table and read the newspaper article about Ginny Slade’s murder, Eunice knew that it was only a matter of hours before Zach would come and accuse her of killing Ginny.
He wouldn’t believe her when she denied it.
Frowning, she glanced through the paned windows to the greenish waters of Lake Oswego, as if in looking at the murky water she could figure out what to do. Few times in life had Eunice given up and she wasn’t about to start now.
But who had killed the wimpy little nursemaid? Surely someone associated with the family; perhaps even a family member.
One of her own children?
Someone clever enough to know that Zach, and probably the police would accuse her. Someone, perhaps, who knew that Kat’s death hadn’t been a suicide, that Eunice had played a vital role in the second Mrs. Witt Danvers’s demise.
“Bloody hell,” she muttered, angry that her plans had gone awry. Why hadn’t that little money-grubbing bitch left town? Why hadn’t she backed off from her claims to be London, Witt’s most precious baby?
It made her sick. Even now her stomach roiled and filled the back of her throat with a horrid taste and the rage she felt, the white-hot fury, pumped through her blood. She’d borne Witt four fine children. Four! And he’d turned away from them when that gold digger had batted her fake eyelashes at him.
Foolish, foolish old man.
He’d gotten what he deserved by losing his special child and finding his arm-candy wife in bed with his son. Her knees buckled at the thought of Zach and Kat. Sick, that’s what it had been. Dirty. Incestuous; and now…now he was taking up with that horrid woman’s child.
It was unthinkable.
Eunice had no doubt that Adria was London; the girl’s resemblance to Kat was eerie. It made Eunice’s skin crawl. If only Zach had been sired by Anthony Polidori, everything would have been better. So much easier. Cleaner.
As it was…
Eunice shivered and rubbed her arm where a huge bruise had formed when she’d tackled Adria in that horrid dive of a motel. She was sore and still limped because of the attack that hadn’t quite worked. She’d been so angry, so worked up, so frenzied. She remembered lying in the dark, waiting, knowing that Adria, like Kat, was with Zach.
Jesus, why didn’t he learn? Why was he drawn to his own stepmother and her daughter? His half-sister? Eunice thought she might throw up at the thought and she began to shake violently.
Calm down…you must remain calm. That’s the only way. You need to deal with Zach. Soon. And possibly London! God, why hadn’t Ginny Slade kept her end of the damned bargain. No doubt Zach knew all about the kidnapping and he would have deduced his own mother’s part in the crime.
For a second, she considered running. There might still be time to get to Canada or even Mexico.
And then what?
Katherine will win.
London will win.
“No!” she ground out, her fists clenching so hard her fingernails dug deep into her palms.
She had to finish what she’d started.
The next step was facing Zach.
She knew her children well and understood Zach better than the others. By now, he would have figured out that she was behind the attacks against his precious Adria and he’d want a face-off.
Well, he’d get one. She walked from the kitchen to the master bathroom and opened the medicine chest. An array of vials and bottles were lined up on the slim glass shelves, the result of her complaints of nagging aches and pains that no one doctor could pinpoint. Because there had been no pain. Despite her claims to the medical profession, she felt as fit and able as she had at thirty-five, perhaps even stronger, but she’d managed to collect samples and prescriptions from nearly a dozen doctors and combined with her own basic knowledge of chemistry, anatomy and medicine, she was able to create her own little “cocktails.”
She remembered slipping a mixture of Valium and sleeping pills into Kat’s vodka in her hotel room on the night of her death. While Kat had been out, Eunice had slipped into the room, compliments of a key she’d lifted from Kat’s purse while Kat had been in the hotel bar. She’d entered the room while Kat was still ordering drinks. It had been so easy to doctor the bottle in the room, then wait on the balcony while Kat poured herself another drink and eventually ended up in the shower.
Kat had been weak.
Losing London had nearly killed the bitch. But not quite.
She’d needed another push. Literally.
And Eunice had only been too glad to give it to her. It had been too easy to entice the pathetic woman onto the veranda.
“Mama,” Eunice said now, in the same little girl’s voice she’d used to lure her nemesis onto the balcony. “Mama.” Kat had been so disoriented, she’d never realized the trap until it was too late and then her eyes had widened in terror and surprise just before Eunice sprang and pushed her over the edge.
Eunice had thought she’d gotten away with murder.
Kat’s death had been written off as suicide due to depression and an unfortunate overdose.
But someone had known the truth, Eunice deduced as she picked up the vials and hypodermic needle she wanted and closed the cabinet door. The mirror slammed into place and she was suddenly staring into her own haunted eyes.
Yes, she’d wanted Kat dead.
But she’d had to live with the guilt.
And now, she suspected, someone else had known she was a murderer and was hoping she’d take the fall for Ginny Slade.
Who?
If not one of her own children, which she couldn’t accept, what about Anthony or someone from the Polidori clan? Maybe this was payback for Ginny letting them take the heat for London’s disappearance…no…
She frowned, deep creases showing between her eyebrows and around her lips. There was no time for speculation. She still had to deal with Adria—the one woman standing between Witt’s fortune and her children. If she wouldn’t scare away, then she had to die.
Even though Zach would try to intervene.
Too bad.
Eunice wasn’t afraid of dying herself, but, by God, her children were going to get the legacy and inheritance that was rightfully theirs.
Even if Eunice had to commit murder again.
Even if she wouldn’t get away with it this time.
Even if Zach tried to stop her.
One way or another, London Danvers was going to die.
It wasn’t easy, but Adria and Zach managed to avoid and outrun the press even though the news was out: Adria Nash was London Danvers. The newspapers, radio and television stations had already aired the story all along the West Coast and by the time Zach and Adria arrived in Portland, the media had laid siege to the airport, the Hotel Danvers, Jason’s house and even the ranch outside of Bend.
Zach had been cool, taken her hand and pulled her through the throng or reporters and cameramen at Portland International. She’d ducked into his Jeep and managed to avoid making a statement of any kind. If any reporter had followed them into the city, Zach had managed to lose them.
Sooner or later she would be forced to face them, Adria thought as the Jeep rocketed down I–84, headed into the heart of the city.
“You’d think they’d give me a minute to breathe,” she grumbled, glancing in the side-view mirror and checking out the traffic trailing behind them.
“Oh, yeah, right.” He slid her a glance as he merged into a lane for the freeway heading south. “You asked for it with that press conference.”
“I suppose.”
“You’d better get used to this,” Zach advised. “You are major news, darlin’ and until someone comes along who’s more newsworthy, you’re going to get more attention than a single mouse in a nest of snakes.”
“Good analogy.”
“I thought so.” He managed to slide her a hint of a smile. “Face it. For the next couple of weeks you’re going to be way more popular than anyone should be.”
“Great,” she muttered, but told herself this is what she’d wanted, to be accepted as London Danvers, to finally know the truth about her past.
He picked up his cell phone and listened to messages as he eased the Jeep onto I-5. His smile faded.
“What?” she asked when he hung up.
“There’s a change of plan. Something I have to do. Alone. I’ll need to drop you off at a police station.”
“Who called you?”
He didn’t answer, as he cut across traffic toward an exit that she knew led to Macadam Avenue.
“Zach, who called and what did he say?”
“Just be patient.” He dialed a number, swore, then left a brief message. “Len, it’s Zach Danvers. I’ll need police protection for Adria. Call me back ASAP.”
“Wait a minute,” she insisted as he pulled into the lot of a restaurant near the Willamette River. “What’s going on, Zach? You can’t just dump me off and leave me. Who the hell called you.” His lips tightened at the corners and he avoided her gaze. “Oh, God” she whispered and knew in an instant. “Eunice.”
“We’ll wait until I hear back from Len.”
“Why? What did she want?” Fear caused the back of her throat to go dry. “Oh, God. She wants to meet with you, doesn’t she?”
“Just stay here, inside, where you’ll be safe. I’ll be back soon.”
“Are you crazy? I’m not sitting around here waiting while you go and face her.
“She’s my mother,” he said without any emotion.
“And a killer.”
“We think.”
“We know, Zach!” Adria grabbed his arm. “You’re not going alone. I’ll come with you.”
“No.”
“This is all because of me.”
“And if we’re right and she’s behind this, then you’ll be in danger, but I won’t. Stay here. I’ll call Len and tell him where you are. The police will come by or I’ll be back and you’ll be safe.”
“Oh, yeah, right,” she threw back at him as raindrops drizzled down the windshield. “Aren’t you the one who said I needed a bodyguard, round-the-clock protection? What if someone followed us here? What if Eunice or whoever is banking on us splitting up? What if she’s in collusion with a partner and used the phone call to lure you away?�
��
“Hell.” Obviously the same thoughts had crossed his mind. “Isn’t there anyone you can trust?”
“So that you can dump me off? I don’t think so! Who would it be? Someone from your family? Trisha? Jason? Or the Polidoris?”
“Okay, okay! I get it.” Impatiently he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as the Jeep idled.
“I think it’s better if we stick together.”
Instead of arguing, he reached under the seat and pulled out a handgun in a holster.
“You have a gun?” she asked, shocked.
“Yeah. I’ve been on some jobs where I thought I might need protection. Never used it. But I have a permit for a concealed weapon. Do you know how to use it?”
“I grew up in Montana,” she said as he handed her the weapon.
“Could you shoot it if you had to?”
“Yes.” But she wasn’t certain. Of course if someone threatened her life or Zach’s…Just the thought of this caused fear to jet through her blood.
“Good.”
“Wouldn’t it be better if you kept it?” The pistol felt cold and heavy in her hands.
His jaw slid to the side as he shoved his rig into reverse, then wheeled out of the parking lot. “I was thinking if something unforeseen happens and we get split up…or…something happens to me…you’ll have the weapon.”
“What do you mean ‘something happens to me.’”
He pulled out of the lot and drove south along the river. “I don’t know. That’s the problem. There’s no telling what Eunice might do now that she’s cornered. She begged me to come alone and speak with her privately, but I don’t trust her.”
“Why not call the police?”
“I will. When we get there. I don’t want them bursting in ahead of time. Just in case she really does have something to say to me alone…or with you.”
“Fair enough.” Her heart pounding, her fingers clenched around the cold weapon, Adria barely noticed the forested cliffs on one side of the road, nor the steely gray waters on the other. Expensive homes peeked through the thick branches and lush shrubbery.
Zach’s knuckles showed white as he guided his Jeep through the commercial area of the town, then turned along a narrow, twisting road that rimmed the lake. Splashes of green water were visible through the tall trees and homes perched along the shoreline.
