“That’s right.”
“She left. I saw her get into a car when I was pulling in to the parking lot.”
“Whose car?”
She shrugged. “It was a silver Lexus. I didn’t see who was driving.”
Noah squeezed his eyes shut on a vicious curse. He was too late. He knew who was behind the wheel of that silver Lexus. Without a word he made his way out of the locker room and the building, pausing next to his Jeep. He blinked into the rain.
Where would Henry have taken her?
He heard it before he saw it, the familiar rumble of a Harley. His Harley. Or what used to be his. The sleek, dark silhouette materialized out of the gloom of driving rain, banking recklessly on the turn into the parking lot, skating to an abrupt stop next to Noah.
Bryan yanked off his black helmet, heedless of the downpour that had already drenched his black leather jacket and jeans. “I stopped by your place right after you left. Paul told me what happened. Did you find her?”
Noah wondered how much Bryan knew. “No. Henry got to her first. Someone saw her get into his Lexus.” Bryan hurled an ugly oath, his face a mask of cold rage. He pulled in to the space next to Noah’s Jeep and cut the engine, then swung off the bike and hopped into the Jeep as Noah slid behind the wheel. Within seconds they were on the highway.
“Any idea where they are?” the boy asked.
Noah stared straight ahead, determined not to give in to the wave of bleak despair squeezing his heart. “No.” His voice was tight and raw. “He wouldn’t take her to his home. Not to...” Not to kill her. He couldn’t say it.
Bryan said, “The cops must’ve already checked his house. And Paul got Jordon to issue an APB on the Lexus and his other cars. For all the good it’ll do.” He pounded the dash savagely. “It’s my fault. I knew it was him all along. I should’ve whacked the old bastard after what he did to Jo. If he touches Kit, he’ll wish I had.”
Bryan was wrong. It wasn’t his fault, it was Noah’s. If he hadn’t resisted hypnotic regression all those years, Henry would have been stopped long ago, before he’d had a chance to kill Jo. Before he’d had a chance to get his hands on Kit. His fists tightened on the steering wheel. She’d told him that in the cemetery Ray had called Noah a stubborn, strong-willed bastard. He’d been right, dammit, and that stubbornness was about to get Kit killed.
It might already be too late.
No. He stomped the accelerator, with no inkling of his destination. All he knew was that he had to get there fast. It wasn’t too late. It couldn’t be.
*
“SORRY.” KIT WIPED heavy wet strands of hair off her face and lifted her bottom, clad in her red denim miniskirt, to check the car seat. “I’m getting your upholstery wet.” Supple ivory-colored leather upholstery at that.
“Relax.” Bettina shot her a conspiratorial glance from the driver’s seat. “This is Henry’s car, not mine.”
“I really appreciate the lift, Bettina. You can drop me off at Noah’s.”
“Certainly. I imagine you and your young man want as much time as possible to say your goodbyes.”
Bettina’s casual reference to her impending separation from her “young man” scraped Kit’s already tattered nerves. She hadn’t realized the Davids knew she was involved with Noah. Due to the bizarre circumstances and the impermanence of their relationship, they’d taken care not to advertise it. She could only assume it took very little to fuel the inferno of small-town gossip.
Bettina smiled apologetically. “I hope you don’t mind, but I couldn’t help noticing you opened up Joanne’s locker. I hadn’t realized her things were still in there.”
“I didn’t know it myself until today.”
“Why did you leave it all?”
“Well, there was too much to carry.” Kit cringed inwardly, knowing she could offer no convincing reason for walking out of the health club empty-handed.
Bettina let the subject drop, for which Kit was grateful. She twisted in her seat to drop her purse on the floor in back. It landed next to Bettina’s sack-style shoulder bag. The bag had fallen on its side and something protruded from it, something small, shiny red with a silver logo. Something Kit recognized instantly. She turned back in her seat, idly wondering how many accessory gadgets Bettina’s Swiss army knife sported. It probably had cuticle scissors and an eyelash curler.
She frowned. It might even have a knife.
Scouring her memory, Kit tried to recall running over anything that could have punctured a tire. Wouldn’t she have noticed? She glanced at Bettina, the picture of serenity.
Noah’s words echoed in her mind. Did anyone see you find the disk? Up to this point, all she’d been able to think about was getting to a computer and reading her friend’s book.
The book that got Jo killed.
Kit swallowed hard and averted her face to stare out the window and collect her thoughts. The rain hammered the glass, smearing the bucolic landscape flying past. During the course of her informal investigation, she’d compiled a short list of suspects in Jo’s murder, a list she’d been unable to narrow down further. That list included Noah, of course, as well as Bryan and Henry. If Henry was indeed guilty, where did that leave his wife?
Kit jerked to attention as the car unexpectedly turned off the highway onto a side road. “I have to make a quick detour to pick something up,” Bettina said, smiling. “I know you won’t mind.”
*
“HE’D TAKE HER into the woods,” Bryan said, interrupting the rhythmic slap of the wiper blades.
“That’s what I figure. Unless he...” Noah hauled in a deep breath, forcing himself to contemplate every possibility. “Unless he took her to a lake.”
Bryan grunted in assent. “That’s right. Somewhere he could make her disappear.”
Any relief Noah felt from the discovery that he hadn’t killed Jo was eclipsed by the knowledge that Kit was now in the hands of the real murderer. During hypnosis Ray had shown Noah what had happened back in June at Grace’s party. While Jo had been attacked, Noah was ensconced in the solarium, sipping Scotch and recovering from his exhausting ordeal at the hospital.
When he was called to her side, Ray actually emerged to assist him in saving her, later withdrawing to let Noah perform CPR, a skill he didn’t share. Noah now saw the incident as a patchwork of cooperation between himself and Pratte’s former MD. When Henry had reached for Jo, ostensibly to assist in saving her, Ray had lunged to the fore and decked the older man.
Jo’s murderer. There’d been no doubt in Ray’s mind. It fit the MO Henry had established decades ago, when he’d killed his first wife.
And that was perhaps the most startling revelation of all, the knowledge that Ray was innocent of Anita’s murder. Noah had finally allowed him to reenact her final minutes, right through to the end. Under hypnosis he’d experienced Ray’s horror as the injection he administered to relieve Anita’s breathing did just the opposite. Ray could only watch helplessly as respiratory paralysis seized his patient and she succumbed to a hideous death. He stared at the syringe in his hand. At the vial of clear liquid. And he knew.
He poked at the remains of a ham salad sandwich sitting on the kitchen table. Sniffed it. Tasted it. And detected a bit of mustard, to which Anita was violently allergic. Just enough had been added to trigger severe anaphylaxis that might have been enough by itself to kill her. But Henry had taken no chances. That’s where the injection came in. Ray didn’t know what kind of toxin his old buddy had chosen, only that it looked enough like epinephrine to fool him.
Ray concluded that Henry must have found out about his affair with Anita, an affair he’d been on the verge of breaking off. Ray had known for some time that Henry intended to divorce his wife and marry his wealthy young lover, Bettina Sheridan. Apparently he’d altered his plans to a more immediate and cost-effective solution.
And engineered a diabolical revenge for the good pal who’d cuckolded him at the same time, by making him a party to the murder. A
s horrified as Ray was at that moment of truth, as he stared at that vial he had to admire Henry’s ingenuity.
But he didn’t have to sacrifice himself. He picked up the phone and called an ambulance, claiming Anita had succumbed to the asthma attack and he’d been too late to save her. It was simpler and safer than revealing Henry’s guilt. Toxicology tests might show she was poisoned, but Ray had no proof to connect Henry with the crime. He’d planned it out too well, even arranging to be far away when his wife died, in Montpelier on business. No, Ray would have to take care of his old friend himself.
After the funeral, Ray confronted Henry, who went berserk when Ray mentioned his affair with Anita—as if he were learning it for the first time. He didn’t even respond to the accusation of murder. Henry then went to the authorities with a wild tale that Ray had confessed to poisoning her. Anita was exhumed, toxicology tests performed, and Ray was arrested. He protested his innocence, but no one gave any credence to his claims that Henry had orchestrated the murder. The minute he was released on bail, Ray made his final fatal mistake. He grabbed his semiautomatic and paid his old pal a visit. The ensuing struggle had ended in Ray’s death.
And for thirty-two years the world believed him guilty. Noah couldn’t deny that Ray had been a heartless bastard. Predatory and cruel, a manipulating, unrepentant womanizer.
But he was no murderer.
And that’s what Ray had been trying to do for so many years, Noah reflected as he raced down the rain-slick highway. To clear his name. Prove his innocence. That was the purpose of the recurring dream, all Ray’s attempts to force his way into Noah’s consciousness. It’s what he’d tried to tell Kit in the cemetery. That he hadn’t killed Anita.
Bryan’s voice dragged him out of his grim musings. “Henry would pick a real secluded spot. Somewhere not too many people know about.”
“Damn!” Noah slammed on the brakes and skidded into the shoulder. “That’s it. God, that’s it,” he breathed, as he spun the Jeep around and took off in the opposite direction.
Bryan braced himself against the rough turnaround and didn’t ask where they were heading. All he said was, “I hope you’re right, man.”
*
“DID YOU KNOW your friend Joanne was sleeping with my husband?” Bettina asked in a conversational tone.
Kit whipped her head around to stare at the other woman. Bettina was the picture of serenity as she negotiated the rain-battered back roads they’d been following the past twenty minutes, keeping her speed down for safety’s sake. Something about their location seemed familiar. Kit licked her suddenly dry lips. “Bettina, I really need to get to Noah’s.”
“I figured it out pretty fast, of course,” Bettina continued, as if she hadn’t heard her. “Men are so hopelessly delusional when it comes to their affairs.” She chuckled, shaking her head. “My Henry is, anyway. Always thinking he can hide them. From me!” Her tinkling laugh said, Oh, what a scamp that Henry is. “He forgets, of course, that I was once the ‘other woman’ myself.”
Pieces of the puzzle began to slither out of the little spaces Kit had squeezed them into and rearrange themselves. The picture that began to emerge made the blood drain from her head. She’d assumed Bettina had been ignorant of her husband’s affair with his young reporter. A foolish assumption on her part, for as she’d just been reminded, Bettina had always known her husband wasn’t the faithful sort.
“Bettina, where are we going?” Kit asked, an instant before the car turned onto a rutted dirt path that snaked into the woods. Trusting her instincts, she had her door open and one sandaled foot out of the car before the engine was off.
“Don’t,” Bettina said.
Glancing back, Kit found herself looking down the short stainless-steel barrel of a snub-nosed revolver. One elegant French-manicured finger was poised on the trigger. She froze and shifted her gaze to Bettina’s face. In that moment she knew this woman had killed before, and had no compunction about doing so again. The car door was still open, her right half soaked as rain battered the car.
“Reach into the back, slowly, “ Bettina said, “and pick up your purse.”
Kit obeyed, dizzy with shock and fear.
Bettina took the bag and set it on her lap. Keeping her eyes on Kit, she opened it and dug around with her free hand. It took only a moment for a smile of triumph to spread across her face. “Well. I’d practically given up hope of ever locating this thing.” She pulled out the disk, tucked it under her seat, and continued rummaging in the purse for another few moments. She withdrew a small can of pepper spray, Kit’s only weapon.
“Oh, really...” Bettina scoffed. “This is so very inadequate, dear. An attractive young woman like you wandering around in unfamiliar locales, snooping into all manner of troublesome things...” She clucked in disapproval and placed the spray under her seat, then tossed the purse into the backseat. “Now give me my bag.”
Kit retrieved the other purse and handed it to her. Bettina pulled a pretty floral silk scarf out of it and tied Kit’s wrists together behind her back. Tight. She shooed her with an impatient gesture. “Out.”
They stepped out of the car and were instantly drenched. Bettina plucked at her white silk tunic and scowled. “I would be wearing something dry-cleanable,” she muttered.
Peering into the surrounding forest, Kit realized the car was well concealed from the road. No one would just stumble upon them.
And then she knew where they were.
Bettina wagged the gun. “Walk.”
Kit preceded her as they slowly trudged through woods she’d been in once before. But everything had looked so much different on that long-ago day when Noah had brought her here for brunch alfresco. Then it had been clear and beautiful, an ideal day for a man and woman to celebrate a new beginning. This gloomy day, on the other hand, was more suited to endings.
Bettina said, “This area is quite off the beaten track. Henry showed it to me. He goes fishing somewhere around here.”
As she slogged through puddles and wet vegetation, Kit said over her shoulder, “You have the disk, Bettina. Take it with my blessing. I don’t know what’s on it and I don’t want to know.”
Bettina’s laughter chilled her more than the rain, now dwindling to an icy drizzle that plopped heavily through the trees. “Well, I know what’s on that disk. I read the hard copy before I destroyed it, along with her computer and all the rest. Naturally, I had to eliminate the author, as well. And please don’t insult my intelligence, dear. I know very well you wouldn’t simply hand over your dead friend’s opus and keep quiet about it. Good heavens, you’ve spent the entire summer looking for it. As have I. Ironic, isn’t it? Weeks of having you followed, and the silly thing is sitting right there in Joanne’s locker the whole time. I must have walked past it dozens of times. I’m telling you, you could have knocked me over with a feather.”
“That book means nothing to me, I swear.” Kit stopped and hazarded a look back. The polished steel of Bettina’s revolver glinted in the meager light. She felt utterly defenseless with her hands tied behind her. “No one can connect you with Jo’s murder. But if you kill me, they’ll catch you. Noah’s expecting me. Someone will have seen me get into your car.”
Bettina shrugged negligently. “Keep moving.”
Kit obeyed.
“You don’t honestly think I’m worried about getting caught?” Bettina asked. “It really is shameful how incompetent local law enforcement is.” She sighed. “Why, even your feebleminded friend Malcolm Ryder could outthink an idiot like Tom Jordon. Stop here.”
She did, and a violent shudder racked her. Whatever Bettina planned to do to her, this was the spot. Deep in the woods where it could take weeks to find her body. She recognized the enormous boulder next to them, erupting from the earth like a misshapen gray molar. Keep her talking, she thought. Stall for time. Fortunately, Bettina seemed to consider her crime a stimulating source of conversation.
Kit asked, “Wasn’t Malcolm home when you br
oke into Jo’s room?”
Bettina nodded. “He was in the shower. I hated to leave her room so rumpled, but there you have it. I had to work fast.”
Bettina’s twisted priorities bespoke a mental sickness that Malcolm’s “feeblemindedness” couldn’t approach, Kit thought. No amount of reasoning would sway this woman. Something in that pretty head had long ago snapped.
The rain had let up, but Kit was already soaked to the skin and shivering with cold and unadulterated fear. She asked, “How did you find out about Jo’s book?”
“I overheard her arguing with Grace Drummond about it at the health club. I’d stuck fairly close to Joanne since her arrival. I even suggested she join Valkyrie. I didn’t trust the little slut, and with good reason as it turned out. Not only did she intend to rehash that unpleasant business about my husband’s first wife, she actually seduced him in her quest for information. By the time I’d found out about it, of course, the silly man had already played right into her hands.” She sighed heavily. “After that, it was a matter of exercising damage control.”
Damage control? That was how this woman referred to murder?
Bettina continued, “And later, when I found out from Etta that you were looking for your friend’s missing computer disk, I realized a copy of the book still existed. It wasn’t in your room or car, but I knew that if I kept an eye on you, eventually you’d lead me to it.”
That must have been the day Kit had discovered her room had been searched, the day Bettina had visited Etta on the pretext of checking out her roses.
Something dark winked in and out of view behind trees in the distance. It took every iota of mental concentration for Kit to keep her eyes on Bettina’s face. It could be a large dog. Too dark for a deer. Were there bears in Vermont? At this moment Kit would have gladly chosen a grizzly over Bettina’s little snub-nosed revolver.
Bettina reached into her shoulder bag and extracted a rigid eyeglass case, which she opened to reveal a small hypodermic. Something in Kit’s chest squeezed painfully, stealing her breath. As chilled as she was, she felt fresh sweat pop out on her palms, her upper lip, under her arms. Bettina removed the hypodermic and shoved the eyeglass case back into her purse. Had she been carrying that thing around all summer, waiting for this moment?
A Case of You Page 21
