Secret Sisters

by Jayne Ann Krentz

  “Louisa came to see me earlier today,” Madeline said. “Threats were made.”

  “I know.” Egan closed his eyes briefly. He looked at Madeline with an imploring expression. “I apologize on her behalf. I hope you will understand that she is distraught at the moment. She never lost hope that Xavier’s mental health issues would respond to therapy, you see. Between you and me, we spent a great deal of money on doctors and counselors and cutting-edge treatments over the years. But in the end, we failed to find a cure.”

  “Yeah, that much was obvious last night,” Jack said.

  Egan flashed him a reproachful look. “I’m trying to explain that my son had some problems.”

  “You no longer need to concern yourself with Xavier’s problems,” Jack said. He walked to the desk and set his computer down in front of Egan. “You’ve got more than enough of your own. The photos on this computer were emailed to the FBI and the San Diego police this afternoon. What happens next is up to the authorities.”

  Egan stared at the computer and then looked up. For the first time he appeared wary. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “In addition to reopening the case involving the murder of Carl Seavers and Sharon Richards, I’m going to make sure that the FBI takes another look at the hotel fire that killed Edith Chase. We’ve been assuming that it was Xavier’s work, but in light of this new evidence, it seems you had plenty of motive.”

  Egan turned a violent shade of red. “I have no idea what this is about, but I do know you’re acting crazier than my son.” He reached for the phone. “I’m calling the police.”

  “Show him the pictures, Madeline,” Jack said. “And don’t forget the notes.”

  She moved to the desk and, without a word, brought up the first of the incriminating photos.

  Egan scowled at the image, clearly bewildered. In the next instant he realized what he was looking at.

  “No,” Egan hissed. “It’s not possible.”

  Madeline clicked through a few more pictures. When she got to one of the pages in the old notebook, Egan looked stunned.

  “That’s enough,” Jack said quietly.

  Madeline picked up the computer and stepped back.

  “They’re fakes,” Egan said. Everything about him was tight with rage and something that looked a lot like panic. “Everyone knows it’s possible to doctor photographs and documents online.”

  “In addition to the photos, the private investigator left very detailed notes,” Jack said. “He saw you buy the gun, Webster. And the silencer. It gets better—he got a picture of you ditching both off a pier near La Jolla.”

  “Lies,” Egan whispered. “All lies. Where did you get these?”

  “Long story. No reason to go into it now. The FBI has the details. Those are just scanned copies of the originals. Not sure who has those. You, maybe? Are you the one who hired the woman who posed as Ramona Owens to help you clean up the Webster family tree?”

  “Get out of here.” Egan started to open the top drawer of his desk.

  “Don’t,” Jack said. He had his gun in his hand now. “Get up and move away from the desk.”

  Egan stared at the weapon. Slowly he got to his feet. He took a couple of reluctant steps to one side.

  “You don’t know who you’re fucking with, Rayner.” He looked at Madeline. “You are a very foolish woman.”

  “You murdered my grandmother, didn’t you?” Madeline asked. “You killed her, you bastard.”

  The dangerous edge on her voice worried Jack. He had been afraid that it might be a mistake to let her accompany him today. The kind of mutually assured destruction strategy that he had employed with Webster did not allow for stray fireworks and emotional outbursts. Success relied on maintaining absolute control.

  “Time for us to leave,” Jack said quietly. He spoke to Madeline, but he did not take his attention off Webster.

  “You’re the reason Tom Lomax is dead,” Madeline said. “Were you the one who murdered him and then tried to hunt me down at the hotel that day, or was that Ramona? Either way, you’re responsible for his murder. And you set your own son up to take the fall when things started to go wrong.”

  Webster shook his head. “You stupid little bitch. You should have sold the hotel when you had the chance. Before this is over I’ll see Sanctuary Creek Inns destroyed. Do you hear me?”

  “Madeline,” Jack said. “The door.”

  He did not raise his voice, but Madeline finally got the message. She turned and walked to the door. Jack kept his focus on Webster.

  “Whatever happens next is between you and the authorities,” he said. “But you’re smart. I’m betting you’ll be safe on some no-name island before the guys with the badges knock on your door. But just so we’re clear, if for any reason I have cause to believe that either Madeline or Daphne is in danger at any time, I will come after you myself.”

  “Get out of my house, you son of a bitch,” Egan roared. “You’ll pay for what you’ve done to me. I promise you that. You have my fucking promise.”

  Madeline had the door open. She was out in the hall. Jack picked up his computer and followed her, never turning his back on his target. He closed the door on Webster and looked at Madeline.

  “We’re leaving now,” he said.

  “Okay.”

  He kept the gun in his hand and instructed Madeline to get behind the wheel of the SUV so that his hands were free. Just in case.

  Madeline drove straight to the ferry dock, where her own car was waiting in line.

  The ferry sailed on time.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  Madeline stood at the rail and watched Cooper Island slide out of sight. The hood of her jacket was pulled up around her face. Jack stood beside her, his big frame blocking some of the chilled wind coming off the dark water.

  “You went too far,” she said quietly. “You made yourself a human target when you threatened Webster personally.”

  “Had to be done,” Jack said.

  That was all he said.

  She looked at him through the lenses of her sunglasses. She couldn’t see his eyes because he, too, was wearing dark glasses. But she had learned a lot about Jack in recent days. He had retreated into his own personal no-go zone. She wanted to force her way past the invisible barrier, but she had no clue how to go about it. No clue if it was even possible. And no clue about how Jack would react if she was successful.

  In the past she had always stopped at the invisible barricade because she knew she had no right to intrude.

  But this time was different. He was her lover now.

  “Why did you do it?” she asked. “Why not just let the authorities handle Webster? I never asked you to put yourself in his sights.”

  “You hired me to deal with the problem. I told you at the start of this thing that I would use my best judgment. Until now you’ve been reasonable about most of my tactics. But today you insisted on going with me to see Webster. You changed the dynamic.”

  Understanding slammed through her, leaving her momentarily stunned.

  “You made that last threat because of me, didn’t you?” she said. “Because I’m the one who lost control and accused him of murdering Grandma and Tom.”

  “It didn’t make any difference in the end.”

  “If I had kept my mouth shut, you could have stopped the brinksmanship game with the evidence and the news that the authorities were in possession of those photos. Webster would have focused on the problem of dealing with the FBI. Instead, he’s going to target you now.”

  “Maybe not.”

  “What do you mean, maybe not? You saw him. He’ll do whatever he can to get at you.”

  “He’s going to have his hands full for a while,” Jack said. “I’m sure his first thought will be to get out of the country. He’s a survivor. He won’t hang around to
take his chances with the authorities. He may hate my guts, but he won’t risk arrest just to get revenge against me. He’ll tell himself he should go to ground now.”

  “I see what you mean.” She took a deep breath, aware of a tiny frisson of relief. “His first consideration will be his own survival.”

  “Right now he’s probably giving orders to get the yacht fueled and readied for an ocean voyage. If Webster makes it on board he’ll be in international waters within hours. He’ll be untouchable as long as he stays out of the country. He knows that. I’m sure he made contingency plans long ago.”

  “Offshore accounts?”

  “He would have been a fool not to make arrangements for a quick retreat.”

  “Good point.” She thought about that. “I don’t know whether to hope he gets arrested or that he escapes to some country or island that doesn’t have an extradition treaty. If he gets picked up by the authorities, he’ll probably make bail within hours.”

  “In which case he might still be able to get to the yacht.”

  “So, either way, the odds are he won’t go to prison.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “Then what?”

  “One thing I’ve learned in my business, Madeline. Sometimes it’s a mistake to look too far down the road. There are times in life when you can’t be sure of the pattern. You have to meet circumstances as they are.”

  She used one hand to hold her wind-tangled hair away from her face.

  “That sounds like the same approach you take to your personal relationships,” she said.

  He smiled. “Saves me having to pay a private investigator to do a background check on all of my dates.”

  “That,” she said, “was a low blow.”

  “Yes, it was. I apologize.”

  She turned toward him. “Jack, sometimes you scare me.”

  “I apologize for that, too.”

  “Not because I’m afraid you’ll hurt me.”

  “Never.”

  She finished the sentence in her head. You scare me because I’m afraid I’m falling in love with you.

  This wasn’t the time or the place for words. Jack wasn’t ready for words. She reached out and took his hand, instead. For an instant she thought she had pushed too far.

  But his powerful fingers closed very carefully, very firmly around hers.

  She did not feel trapped or crushed or pinned like a butterfly. Instead she experienced an exhilarating rush of rightness. We are stronger together, she thought. When will you realize that, Jack?

  Together they watched Cooper Island slide into the mist.

  After a while a stray thought jolted through her.

  “What did you mean when you said if Webster makes it on board the yacht?” she asked.

  “I’m not sure yet. What I know is that we’re witnessing the implosion of an entire family. It’s like watching a volcano that is starting to erupt. You want to be sure you’re not standing too close to the scene. That’s why we’re going home to Arizona.”

  “Home sounds good.”

  “Yes, it does.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  Egan carried a pile of shirts across the bedroom and dumped them into the suitcase. He shot Louisa a savage look and went back to the closet for more clothes. He realized that he hated her now as much as he hated Jack Rayner. They would both pay, he thought.

  “This is all your doing, you stupid, crazy bitch,” he said. “Everything, including the death of your precious Xavier. You had me followed that night in San Diego, didn’t you? Didn’t you? The PI who took the photos had your initials and your old phone number in his damn notebook.”

  Louisa stood near the door, clutching her purse.

  “What photos?” she said, her voice very tight.

  “Pictures of me in the house with Seavers and that little slut he was sleeping with. Pictures of pages from a notebook. Pictures that could send me to prison for the rest of my life.”

  She took a breath. “So you did murder them for the stock-picking program, didn’t you? I always wondered, but I told myself you wouldn’t have gone that far. I told myself that not even you would have crossed that line. But I knew. Deep down inside, I knew.”

  Egan looked at her with disgust. “We were partners every step of the way, Louisa. Remember?”

  “In those days I was still hoping that you loved me, at least a little.” Louisa’s voice steadied. “Yes, I hired a private investigator to follow you around on your visits to your whores. I never got his final report. Norman Purvis billed me on a weekly basis for nearly two months and then he just disappeared. I assumed I had been scammed.”

  “That bastard you hired was the one who started blackmailing me twenty years ago.”

  “You told me that someone was trying to blackmail you, but you implied that it had to do with some insider trading issue.”

  “Bullshit. You knew it was Purvis, didn’t you? The PI you hired goes missing and the next thing you know I’m being blackmailed. You must have guessed that Purvis had found something and was using it against me. But you never said a word.”

  She ignored that. “What happened to Purvis?”

  “How the hell should I know? For the first two years it was just a slow bleed. I kept telling myself that one day I would find him and get rid of him. Then my fund took off and Purvis got greedy. He demanded a couple of million to be transferred into an offshore account. I agreed to pay it but only if I got the photos. I had it all arranged. I got him to agree to make the transfer here on the island. Figured once I knew he was here I would be able to control the situation. But he never showed.”

  “And you never heard from him again.”

  “At first I told myself that he’d lost his nerve. After time went by with no word from him I decided that maybe one of his other blackmail victims had taken him out. That’s probably what did happen.”

  “But why would the pictures and his notebook turn up now?”

  “I don’t have all the answers, damn it.”

  Louisa had a death grip on her handbag. “Where are you going, Egan?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” He zipped the suitcase shut. “I’m getting as far away as possible.”

  “You’re going to abandon this family?”

  He wanted to scream at her, but at the last second he remembered that he had other, more effective weapons at his command. He had always been able to charm his targets.

  “It’s best if I leave, Louisa,” he said, gentling his voice. “Don’t you see? It’s the only way to deflect the attention of the authorities and the media. This way it will be all about me—the evil financier who murdered a colleague for a stock-picking program nearly two decades ago, deceived his family, friends, and business associates for years, made a fortune, and vanished when the truth came to light.”

  “That’s an interesting narrative. But what about Travis and the campaign? You can’t just leave him here to pick up the pieces.”

  “It won’t do him any good if I stay. He’ll be in a much better position to manage the fallout if I disappear. Don’t worry about Travis. He’ll land on his feet. Took me long enough to realize that he’s the one who got my talent for surviving.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Get real, Louisa. Hasn’t it dawned on you that Travis will be the last one standing when this is all over? Don’t you see? He was the one who got rid of Xavier last night. It must have been him.”

  “No. Xavier was his brother.”

  “Ever heard the story of Cain and Abel? Think about it. Xavier was always a problem for Travis. It was only a matter of time before Xavier did something that would have ruined the campaign. Travis must have realized that he had no choice but to get rid of his brother. The only surprising thing is that he had the guts to do it. Should have given him more credit.”

 
“You don’t know that he murdered Xavier. You can’t possibly know that.”

  “It’s the only logical explanation for what happened to Xavier last night.” Egan hoisted the suitcase off the bed. “I don’t care what the campaign people are saying, we both know he wasn’t a suicide. And I sure as hell didn’t rig that boat to blow sky-high. It must have been Travis. Now get out of my way.”

  “No,” Louisa said. “I won’t let you abandon this family. Not after everything you’ve done. I’ve worked too hard. Put up with too much for too long. It almost drove me crazy, you know—your affairs, the realization that you were incapable of loving anyone, not even your own sons. Knowing that you routinely cheated and lied.”

  “And made a hell of a lot of money. Don’t forget that part. You liked the money, didn’t you? You liked the things it bought you, right up to and including Travis’s campaign.”

  “Which you have now destroyed.”

  “You’re the one who had me followed that night, remember? If it hadn’t been for you, the past would have stayed buried. You brought this disaster down on all of us.”

  From out of nowhere a disturbing calm settled on Louisa. Egan’s intuition suddenly kicked in. He needed to get out of the house. Now.

  “You’re right,” Louisa said. “What is happening to this family is my fault. I’m the one who must do what I can to repair the damage.”

  She reached into the handbag and took out a gun. His gun. He stared at her, incredulous.

  “You think killing yourself will solve all of Travis’s problems?” he asked. “Fine. Go for it.”

  “You don’t understand,” Louisa said. Her voice was very calm and steady now. “I’m not going to kill myself.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  Breaking . . . Egan Webster, founder of a hedge fund empire and father of a potential congressional candidate, was found dead in the family compound on Cooper Island, Washington, earlier today. According to the police, cause of death was multiple gunshot wounds. The victim’s wife, Louisa Webster, has been taken into custody. Sources report that she has confessed to the killing.