Behind the Shadows

by Potter, Patricia;

  Keep him talking. “No one will believe Max turned into a crazed killer,” she said, risking his wrath.

  “Of course they will. He’s killed before.” He smiled suddenly. “You didn’t know that. Well, I did. I made it my business to know everything about this family.”

  Max? Killed before? “I don’t believe you.”

  “I don’t care what you believe. Needless to say the police do.” His eyes narrowed. “Move closer to the princess.”

  She took one step closer. “What happened to the guards?”

  “They were fired a few hours ago. The call was made from Payton’s home. When I finish with you, I’ll call him. A small problem with my mother.”

  Talking. Keep him talking. “No one will believe he’s that stupid.”

  “Oh, I think they will. He got away with murder before. When you showed up, he saw his gravy train derailing.”

  Kira’s heart dropped. She didn’t believe it. She couldn’t. But he obviously did. She exchanged glances with Leigh. She had to keep him talking. “You said Mr. Westerfield was your father? That can’t be.”

  “You don’t think so?” he said with a mirthless grin. “Well, meet your newest relative. Too bad we won’t have a chance to get to know each other better.”

  37

  Max was halfway to the house when he answered a call from his secretary.

  “After you left, I received a call from the security company. They said their men had been called off the gate at your home. They wanted to know if something was wrong …”

  “Called off?”

  “They said you called them, talked to the secretary, and said they’d done a, quote, ‘piss-poor job,’ and they were fired.”

  “They left?”

  “Yes. I knew you wanted guards there, and you didn’t say anything to me about canceling the contract. So I thought you should know …”

  “You thought right. Call Mark Peeples and tell him I am displeased now, and to get his people back there.”

  “I tried. He’s out of town.”

  “Who called?”

  “A Mr. Billings.”

  Max hung up and cursed. He didn’t know the name. Probably some low-level manager who panicked while the boss was gone. Even as he pressed down on the gas pedal, he called Chris Burke on the cell phone. When the man answered, Max said simply, “Someone using my name called off the guards.”

  “I know,” Chris said. “Kira and Leigh went to the Westerfield home. Some emergency with one of the horses. Kira called to report the guards were gone and said Leigh had gone in the barn. I’ve already called the police. I’m on the way, too. Probably fifteen minutes away.”

  “I’m about ten.”

  Rick. It had to be Rick.

  Stupid. He’d been blind. He’d never considered Rick as a suspect because there didn’t seem to be a motive. Nor had he considered Mrs. Baker. She’d been part of the family forever.

  Maybe Rick held something over her. Maybe he had blackmailed her or threatened her into doing something …

  The why didn’t matter right now. He sped up, passed a car going the speed limit. Icy fear twisted around his heart as he swerved in and out of traffic, running a red light and barely missing a turning car.

  He would welcome a police car but he saw none, even though he was going over seventy in a forty-five speed limit. He finally got out of the main traffic and onto the road leading to the house. He listened for the wail of police cars heading toward the estate, but heard none.

  This was the county, not city, and the response time was slower. How long ago had Burke called the cops?

  He had to get there in time. He was only too aware he had no weapon with him, but probably Rick didn’t expect anyone from the agency to call his office. If he could just throw him off …

  He hadn’t realized until this moment how much he cared for Kira, how much life she had brought into his. And Leigh? Pain coursed through him as he thought how many obstacles she’d faced and battled.

  For the first time in his life, he prayed.

  Leigh tried to think as she heard Rick’s mocking words. Blood ran down her neck from where the edge of the gun barrel had scraped her skin. Terror threatened to paralyze her as she glanced from Rick to Kira.

  He’d been waiting just inside the door as she entered the barn. He had jerked her head back and jabbed the gun into her neck as he forced her outside to lure Kira inside …

  Kira entered the barn first. Rick motioned her to the side of the first stall and shoved Leigh down on the floor. She landed between two bales of straw he was to have put in the stalls this morning.

  Then he picked up a rifle standing against the wall and tucked his pistol into his waistband. She recognized the rifle as one owned by her grandfather, the one that had gone missing.

  She wasn’t going to be a victim. She’d played that role far too long. Rick was staring at Kira, obviously believing her to be the greatest risk. She noticed that Kira had moved slightly to the left, away from her.

  Trying to give her a chance.

  Had Rick noticed it?

  She tried to look cowed as she searched for something she could use as a weapon. It wasn’t hard. She was terrified. She prayed Kira had that pepper spray with her. Her gaze fastened on a muckrake leaning against the wall. It should have been hung in its place. More evidence of Rick’s carelessness. Why had she kept him on?

  For Mrs. Baker. No other reason. Where was Mrs. Baker? Was she involved? And Rick? Her son? She couldn’t wrap her mind around that thought.

  “Why?” she asked, starting to rise. “Why are you doing this?”

  Rick stiffened, then turned to her. “Ah, the little lamb has found some guts. Maybe this will be more fun than I thought.”

  “Why?” she asked again.

  “Because you have what should have been mine,” he finally said. His gaze bored into her, but his rifle remained trained on Kira. He was concentrating on the real threat. “Useless princess.”

  “You said Grandfather was your father. That’s crazy.”

  “Crazy, maybe, but true. The respectable Mrs. Baker was nothing more than a whore to your grandfather.”

  Kira took a step forward, and Rick jerked the rifle back toward her. “Move over to the princess.”

  Kira didn’t move. “You’re delusional,” she said, taunting him.

  Leigh knew Kira, too, was playing for time, but it frightened her. She saw Rick’s jaw tighten, his fingers caressing the trigger. He was itching to use it, but he wanted to gloat even more. He wanted to vent his anger against her family. He wanted power he’d never had. It was all in his eyes.

  “Westerfield fucked her, then told her to get rid of the baby,” Rick said. “Like a piece of garbage. And she did. She dumped me on her sister. I found out when Ma died.”

  “That doesn’t mean Grandfather was your father.”

  “Ma claimed he was.”

  “Did Mrs. Baker confirm it?” Kira asked, again drawing his attention.

  He scowled, and she knew the answer.

  “Because he wasn’t.” A familiar voice came from the shadows in the barn. Mrs. Baker’s voice.

  All three of them turned toward the sound. Mrs. Baker must have entered through the back door that led to the pasture. She’d obviously been listening. How long had she been there?

  Alma Baker appeared from the dim light. Rick stood still in shock, his gaze riveting on the woman who stood in the shadows. “You said you were going to visit a friend.” His voice was accusatory.

  “I came back early. You seemed too eager to get rid of me.”

  “And you wanted to join my little party. Now you’ll have to die, too.”

  “I don’t care now,” Mrs. Baker said. “You killed innocent people. You want to kill Leigh. I won’t have it.”

  “You started it,” he said with a strange smile.

  “I wanted you to scare off a fraud. That’s the only reason I told you about Kira Douglas. I didn’t want you to kill
her. Or anyone else.”

  “Who’s going to believe you?”

  A tear ran down Mrs. Baker’s cheek. Leigh had never seen Mrs. Baker cry, or even show much emotion.

  “Mr. Westerfield wasn’t your father,” she said again. “I never told you he was.”

  “But Ma said …”

  “I never told Susie who the father was. She might have thought she knew. She didn’t. It was wrong of her to tell you about me, to speculate about your father.”

  “You’re lying!”

  “No. No longer. I welcomed you when you came here. I was happy that Susie told you that you were my biological son, not hers. My chance to make up for so much.”

  “Then who was my father?”

  Rick’s face had turned ugly, his eyes glaring at the woman.

  “I don’t know. I was raped. I was stupid. I accepted a ride from someone I didn’t know after my car broke down. When it happened, I was ashamed, too ashamed to admit it to anyone, much less to Mr. Westerfield. He was a stickler on morals. I told him I was leaving to marry a soldier. A year later, I said he died on a special mission, and I wanted to come back.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Rick said flatly.

  “I never told you or Susie that Mr. Westerfield was the father. I didn’t tell you about the rape. I thought it would hurt you.” She hesitated, then added, “For God’s sake, if you were his son, he would have claimed you. He was desperate for a son.”

  “Ma told me you loved him. Admitted it to her.”

  “She was right,” Mrs. Baker said. “I did love him. That’s the reason I stayed so long. But he never saw me that way. He loved his Isobel until the day she died, and he never stopped. I was never more than a housekeeper to him.”

  “He left you money.”

  She looked at him with amazement and horror. “That’s why you thought …” She stopped, then started again. “He left Max money as well. He rewarded loyalty and service.”

  But he wasn’t listening. Leigh realized he’d convinced himself so thoroughly that he’d been wronged that no one would convince him otherwise.

  Mrs. Baker saw it, too, and she, too, was trying to play for time.

  Through the corner of her eye, Leigh saw Kira lower one of her hands.

  Rick’s full attention was on the woman whose usual straight back was bent in grief. Her cool facade was melting like an ice sculpture in hell.

  She’d known Mrs. Baker all her life. That she would have a child … that she would be any part of the attempts on Kira’s life … It was devastating. She stared at the person she thought she knew so well. “You knew he was involved in the attempts on Kira’s life. You couldn’t—”

  “Hell, it was her idea,” Rick said.

  Mrs. Baker turned to Leigh. “It was for you. I just wanted him to scare her away … you had already gone through so much.” Tears were coming faster now. Silent. “I never thought …”

  An acute sense of sadness filled her. Mrs. Baker had been the constant in her life. Even more important than Max because she’d been there when Max hadn’t been. She’d nursed her through her recuperation from the accident and through kid illnesses. She’s always maintained a certain aloofness, but Leigh had known—thought—she cared.

  “For you,” Rick mocked as he turned toward Leigh. “For the princess. Not for her son. A son she didn’t even acknowledge after the master was dead.” He looked at Mrs. Baker with real hatred. “But I saw opportunity,” Rick said. “The would-be heiress dead, the princess charged with murder. And I step in. But that reporter wouldn’t die. I had to change plans. Luckily I heard that the damned attorney has a past, and the police are looking that way.” He swung the rifle toward Leigh.

  “All the police will find is a burned barn with two bodies inside and the body of the family attorney and a gasoline can outside. Too bad he got caught in his own fire. He has motive.”

  “No one’s going to believe that,” Kira said. Leigh stayed quiet. She wanted Rick to forget about her as she edged toward the rake.

  “You’re just going to ask him nicely to cooperate?” Kira said.

  He shrugged. “I had Special Forces training. I can handle him.”

  “Special Forces,” Kira mocked again. “Bet you washed out.”

  The sudden tightening of his face told her she was right. “Smart mouth. Maybe you should be first.”

  He swung the rifle toward Kira.

  “No,” Mrs. Baker said. “I won’t let you shoot Leigh. Either one of them.”

  “You think I care what you think, old woman? You gave me away.”

  “Susie was a good mother.”

  “She was trash. You had this, and I lived in a goddamn trailer. I joined the army to get away from her. I could have been a Westerfield …”

  “I told you Mr. Westerfield was not your father. Several times.”

  “You lied.” Rick swung the rifle toward Leigh. “Hey, princess, you get it first. How high and mighty are you now?”

  Bone-deep fear settled in the pit of her stomach.

  “You weren’t at the MARTA station,” Kira said desperately. “Nor at the hospital when someone tried to kill Mom.”

  “An army buddy of mine,” he said. “But I was the sniper. Almost got you then …”

  “The police would know I couldn’t be the sniper,” Leigh said desperately, trying to get his attention again. “Nor could I have pushed Kira at the MARTA station.”

  “You had someone to help. You and your attorney.”

  “But he would be a witness …” She stopped suddenly.

  “My buddy is already dead, unfortunately. He botched the job.”

  The questions had diverted him. He had power now and he was enjoying it. Rick had been too caught up in his anger to order them to move together. And Leigh knew he didn’t think she was a threat. She had to become one.

  Kira caught her eye and said, “Why did you wait two years?”

  He turned and looked at her. “Opportunity. I was waiting for the right time. You gave it to me. Two bitches fighting over an inheritance. If one of you killed the other, then I could step forward.”

  “And now?” Kira asked, keeping him talking.

  Leigh grasped the handle of the muckrake and got to her knees, using it to stand. Rick was still intent on Kira.

  “Hell, Payton killed before. My mother told me about it. His fingerprints will be on this rifle, the same one that was used at city hall. His body will be next to a gas can. Too bad he misjudged the speed and strength of the fire.”

  He’d apparently forgotten about Leigh and concentrated solely on Kira.

  She had to give Kira a chance to get to the pepper spray. She tightened her grip around the handle of the muckrake, then threw it as far as she could behind him. The clatter caused him to turn all the way around. Away from Kira. He cursed, swung the rifle toward Leigh, his fingers tightening against the trigger.

  A movement. Then a body landed on hers.

  The room exploded with the sound of a gunshot. The horses went crazy, striking at the boards and whinnying in panic. Acrid smoke filled her nostrils. No pain other than the weight bearing down on her. She opened her eyes.

  Rick was on his knees. Coughing. Cursing. Disbelief and shock replaced the sneer.

  Leigh felt a dampness and she tried to gently push Mrs. Baker off. Blood gushed from a wound in the housekeeper’s chest. She’d thrown herself in front of Leigh.

  Kira tightened her hold on the small spray can. Rick had dropped the rifle as he tried to cover his eyes. She sprayed again, directly into his face.

  She dived for the rifle, grabbing it with her hands, praying it wouldn’t go off. Then she stood, holding it gingerly but determined to fire it if necessary.

  Leigh cried out, and Kira glanced at her. Leigh cradled Mrs. Baker’s head with one arm and held a blanket to her chest with the other.

  Kira looked back at Rick. He was getting to his feet. He coughed again, then lurched forward, a hand reaching for the pistol
in his waistband.

  Kira stepped back, using both hands to hold the rifle steady. Her finger started to squeeze … hesitated …

  The barn door opened and fresh air rushed in. Then Max was at her side, a tire iron in his hands. He stopped next to her, dropped the tire iron. He grabbed the rifle from her hands. “Don’t move, Rick.”

  “Hell I will.” Rick brought up his pistol.

  Max fired.

  Rick went down, his body twisting around with the impact. The pistol went skittering across the floor. Max handed the rifle to her and stooped next to Rick; blood was pouring out of him. Max tried to stanch it, then stopped as the flow slowed. He felt the pulse in the neck, then shook his head. “Dammit.” He stood slowly. “He’s dead.”

  “No!” Mrs. Baker moaned even as the breathing grew harsher.

  Max went over to her. “I’m sorry,” he said.

  Kira followed him. Leigh was still holding the blanket against the wound in her chest. “Keep holding it there,” Max said. “The police are on their way, should be here any minute.” He took out his cell phone and dialed 911. “We have a critically wounded person, and one dead one,” he said. He gave the address, then took off his shirt and substituted that for the blood-soaked blanket.

  Mrs. Baker moaned again and tears ran down her face.

  The wail of sirens reached them. It grew louder with every second. Kira ran over to Leigh and kneeled beside her.

  “Sorry … I’m so … sorry,” Mrs. Baker said in a weak, raspy voice as cars screeched to a stop outside. Her face was contorted with pain.

  Two officers, guns drawn, ran inside followed by Chris. They stopped.

  “What in the hell?” Chris asked. His eyes panicked as he looked around and saw Leigh, blood staining her clothing.

  “Leigh’s okay,” Kira said, “but Mrs. Baker needs an ambulance. Fast. Max just called, but maybe another call would speed things.”

  Chris’s face didn’t change as he went to Leigh, looked at the cut on her neck, then looked to Mrs. Baker.

  “What happened here?” one of the officers said.

  “I’m not sure,” Max said. “I was running toward the barn when I heard a shot. When I came in, I saw … the man on the floor. He was waving a pistol, threatening to shoot. Ms. Douglas was holding the rifle. I took it from her, told him to put his gun down.”