by SUE FINEMAN
Would she get there in time?
“Please God, don’t let anything happen to Nick.”
Chapter Twenty
“Hey, Nicky, is that your phone?” Tony yelled.
“Sounds like it.”
“You’re not gonna answer it?”
It couldn’t be Cara at this hour. “It’s probably some reporter. I don’t know how she got my unlisted number, but this woman calls several times a day.”
“Is she good looking?”
Nick laughed. Some things never changed, like Tony’s obsession with women. “What happened to that cute blonde you took out last weekend?”
“She’s got rocks for brains.”
“Since when did you care about brains?” asked Angelo.
Nick pointed to the boat. “If you want to talk to that reporter, go answer the damn phone yourself.” But the phone didn’t ring again.
They worked together for another hour, then his cousins left and Nick went to the boat to shower and fix himself some dinner. They’d accomplished a lot today, and he was tired.
He heard the phone again when he was in the shower, but he ignored it. Cara never called before eight, and he wasn’t about to interrupt his shower for a reporter.
<>
Leaving the security of the estate with Lance out there looking for her frightened Cara, but she had to get to Nick and warn him. She had to be there.
It was nearly seven when her plane landed in Gig Harbor. She tried calling Nick again, but he didn’t answer.
Mr. Pettibone had a rental car waiting for them. “I’ll drive,” Cara told Bruce, her guard. “I know the way.”
“Then I’ll ride shotgun,” said Bruce.
She glanced at his gun. “I hope you don’t need to shoot that thing. I don’t want to go through that again.”
Cara didn’t pay any attention to the speed limit. She raced toward the beach road, anxious to get to Nick. Pulling onto the narrow road, she told Bruce, “Lance had blond hair in San Francisco. He wore glasses there, too, but I’m not sure what he looks like now.” She parked and turned off the engine. “I’m going down to the boat.”
She handed Bruce the car keys, grabbed her purse, and raced for the stairs. Six steps and a landing, twelve more and a big landing with benches on both sides. Twelve more steps to the next landing, then six more to the landing between two cabins. Cara flew down the last few steps, veering to the right, straight to the dock and the boat.
She pounded on the boat window. Nick rushed out, barefoot, and relief swept through her. He was all right. Without thinking, she flung herself onto the boat and into his arms.
“Cara, what are you doing here?”
She punched his arm. “That’s a fine way to greet me after I flew all—”
He silenced her with a bone-melting kiss before saying, “Honey, I’m glad to see you, but why are you here?”
“Sally thinks Lance is here in Gig Harbor. I’ve been trying to call you, but you didn’t answer your phone.”
“I thought it was that damn reporter again. There’s some photographer hanging around, too. I couldn’t see his face, so—”
“It could be Lance.”
Nick pointed at the stairs. “Is that Bruce?”
“Yes, Mr. Pettibone wouldn’t let me come alone.”
“Good for him.”
Bruce walked up the dock. “I don’t see anyone around.”
“If Lance is the guy with the red hair, he doesn’t come until after dark,” said Nick.
“On foot?” asked Bruce. “In a car?”
Nick shrugged. “I didn’t walk up to the road to see.”
“I’ll look around.” Bruce walked away.
Seeing Nick alive and well on the boat after the last time they’d been on the boat together, knowing Lance could shoot him again, brought an icy fear to the pit of Cara’s stomach. The last time Nick nearly died. This time they could both be killed. If Sally was right, Lance still thought he could take control of the estate if Cara died. With the court date for the divorce coming up, he must be getting desperate. Lance wouldn’t stop until she was dead, and he wouldn’t want to leave any witnesses. Was her presence here putting Nick in more danger? She stared at the boat, remembering the last time, and she felt sick.
Nick stepped onto the dock and ran his hand down her arm. “Whoa, you’re looking a little pale. Are you all right?”
She took a step back. “I-I have to get out of here.” The memories of the last time she’d been on the boat were too strong, too vivid. Too... red. Coming here had been a mistake. Instead of coming herself, she should have sent someone. The private detective was in Seattle. He could have been here in an hour. Why hadn’t she thought to call him?
Cara looked so pale, Nick grabbed her and pulled her against him. A few tears slipped out and dampened his shirt, but he didn’t complain. Seeing the boat had obviously upset her. “It’s all right, Cara.” He rubbed his hand up and down her back, soothing her, comforting her. If that guy with the red hair was Lance, he wouldn’t come until after dark, so they should be okay for now. As much as he loved seeing her, he had to send her away before dark, before Lance showed up.
“Come on, we’ll go to the cabin for a few minutes.” He slipped his shoes on and they walked down the dock to the beach. Pointing to the hill above the cabins, Nick said, “Your new house will go right in there, and the bottom level should be about roof level of that cabin.” He pointed to the middle cabin, which sat right on the beach.
<>
Lance jogged down the beach road toward Donatelli’s boat. It was almost sunset and he wanted to get a good look in the daylight this time. As he neared his destination, he spotted one of Cara’s security guards and grinned. She’d come at last. Ducking into the woods, he reached in his pocket and pulled out a pair of surgical gloves. Better not leave any fingerprints in case he had to ditch the gun.
The guard walked down the steps toward the beach. Lance hunched down in the bushes to wait. Tonight, his wife and her lover would die together.
The guard walked up and down the beach. He didn’t talk on his radio, and he didn’t meet anyone. That meant he was alone. “This is going to be easier than I thought,” Lance whispered to the trees. Moving into position near the road, he waited.
<>
Cara glanced around. “What happened to Bruce?”
“He’s probably up on the road, looking around.”
Nick unlocked the cabin door and walked inside with Cara. The cabin was tiny, but livable. It had an open living/dining room with a high ceiling on the water side, with the kitchen and a small bedroom and bathroom in back.
Cara looked around. “Only one bedroom?”
“And a sleeping loft.” He pointed to the ladder on the living room wall. It led to a loft over the back half of the cabin.
Cara climbed the ladder to the loft. “Whose idea was this?”
“What?”
“Come look.”
He climbed the ladder and Cara pointed to the skylight over the bed. “I’ll bet if I slept up here, I’ll wake up to find a tabloid photographer taking my picture through that thing.”
Nick grabbed her hand and they fell back on the bed together. She laughed that wonderful deep, throaty laugh. “A waterbed?”
He wanted to kiss her so much he could barely breathe. He rolled onto his side to face her, causing more waves. He touched her cheek and she stopped laughing. The kiss started slow and, as he slipped his hand under her shirt, a little kitten sound came from her throat. He wanted to do more, but the sun was going down, and Lance could show up any time now. Passion would have to wait.
He pulled his hand out, straightened her shirt, and rolled off the bed. Glancing out the window, he saw the guy with the red hair walking down the beach and knew it was too late. “Cara,” he whispered. “Is that Lance?”
She waited until the man turned toward them. “Oh, God. Yes, it’s Lance. Where’s Bruce?”
“I don’t know, but we ca
n’t wait for him. Damn! I didn’t lock the door downstairs.” If Lance didn’t find them on the boat, he’d come looking in the cabins. There were no weapons in the cabin, so he looked around for a place to hide. There was a tiny closet with a low ceiling on the side wall, not big enough for them both. He pulled a board off the bottom of the waterbed. “Cara, can you fit under there?”
“What about you?”
“I’ll get in the closet. Hurry.”
Cara scooted inside and Nick put the board back on, hoping she didn’t get too claustrophobic. It was a tight fit. He crouched in the tiny closet, pulling the door closed as the cabin door creaked open. He heard footsteps on the ladder, then they faded away. Lance had only come up far enough to see there was no one in the loft. Nick heard him walk through the cabin, then the door opened and closed. He waited another minute before leaving the closet to peek out the window. Lance was looking in the windows of the cabin next door.
Yanking the board off the waterbed, Nick grabbed Cara’s ankles and pulled her out of her tiny hiding place. “Are you okay?” he whispered.
She stood and straightened her clothes. “It’s like a coffin in there.”
He put his finger to her lips and peeked out the window again. “Where is he?” she whispered.
Nick pointed out the cabin window. From the way the boat rocked, he knew someone was on board. “He’s on the boat.”
The only phone was on the boat, unless Cara had hers with her. Nick glanced at her empty hands. “Where’s your purse?”
“I left it on the boat.” She peeked out the window. “Where is Bruce?”
“I don’t know, but I have to get to a phone. You stay here.”
She clutched his arm with both hands. “No way!”
“I said—”
Cara tore into him. “Look here, Mr. Macho Donatelli—”
“Don’t argue with me,” he snapped.
“Don’t you dare order me around.”
“I said stay here and I mean it. Lock the door behind me. If someone comes back, hide in that closet upstairs.”
“Like hell. Who do you think is going to stop the bleeding if he shoots you again?” Her eyes pleaded with him and her voice trembled with fear. “Don’t go without me, Nick. Please don’t leave me here alone. I don’t want you to die.” Her eyes swam with unshed tears. “If you don’t want to stay with me, it’s all right, but don’t you dare die on me.”
“Don’t want to... Oh, honey, when this is over, we have to have a long talk.”
She blinked back tears and swallowed hard. “Fine, but you’re not going anywhere without me.”
“It’s not safe out there, honey. I can’t let anything happen to you.”
She clutched his arm. “Then stay with me.”
He gazed into her frightened eyes and spoke gently. “We need to call for help. I have a gun on the boat, but I don’t have any weapons here in the cabin. If he shoots again, I’m gonna shoot back.”
“Maybe he won’t shoot again. He’s not a killer, he just wants money. I’ll give him all the money he wants and he’ll—”
Nick shook his head. He hated to frighten her any more, but she had to know what kind of man they were dealing with. “Cara, before Lance met you, he lived in San Diego. He was engaged to marry another woman, but she asked for a prenuptial agreement. A few days later, they found her body on the patio three stories below her bedroom window.”
Her eyes were huge, frightened pools. “He killed her?”
“They called it an accident, but...” Nick shook his head. “Her brother sent Gerry a picture of the woman’s ‘Lancelot.’ There’s no mistake. It’s Lance.”
Someone tried the doorknob again and Nick froze. He pushed Cara toward the ladder. She looked scared to death, and he didn’t blame her. They were being stalked by a killer. He whispered, “Go upstairs and see if that skylight will open. It could be our only way out of here.”
She gave him a quick hug. “I love you, Nick.”
“I love you, too. Go on. Hurry. I’ll be right behind you.”
Nick found a big knife in the kitchen and ducked behind the cabinet when Lance looked in the living room window. As soon as he heard Lance walking around the house, Nick rushed to the living room and ran up the ladder, the knife in his teeth. Cara was standing on the bookcase headboard, struggling with the latch on the skylight.
“What’s he doing?” she whispered.
“Trying to find a way inside. Let me up there.”
She climbed down and he handed her the knife. One good push and the skylight opened. It was big enough to get through, but there was nothing to stand on. Nick looked down to see Cara tearing the sheets into wide strips and tying them together.
“Is that smoke?” she said, her eyes wide. “Is he trying to burn us out?”
“He’s got a surprise coming.” Nick pulled Cara up beside him on the headboard. She had the end of the rope of sheets tied around her waist. He knelt and tapped his knee. She stepped up on his leg, then on his shoulder, and he pushed her through the open skylight.
Smoke filled the loft and drifted out through the skylight. Nick jumped off the headboard and peered through the tall living room window. Lance stood on the beach, watching the house, the gun in his hand, waiting to pick them off if they tried to escape.
Nick hurried back to the bed. Cara threw the knotted sheets through the hole and poked her head through the skylight. “I tied the other end around the chimney. Where is Lance?”
“On the beach. He can’t see the skylight or the chimney from there.” He probably couldn’t see through the dense smoke, either.
Nick stabbed the mattress on the bed several times, hoping the water would slow the fire. He pushed the heavy dresser on top of it and water spilled out over the sides. Standing on the dresser, he gripped the side of the skylight. Cara reached down and wrapped the sheet around his chest, under his arms, and pulled, giving him the extra boost he needed to get through. Seconds later, they both lay on the roof, gasping for air.
Cara’s eyes were wide with fear. “Did I ever tell you I was afraid of heights?”
“Yeah, well it’s kinda late now. We have to jump. There’s no other way.”
He looked around at the flames licking the sides of the cabin and the smoke pouring out the skylight. The roof was warm already, and they couldn’t wait any longer. He grabbed her hand and walked to the edge. “One... two... three... jump.”
They sailed through the air, landing in the salal and huckleberry bushes on the hill behind the cabin. Nick was scratched and sore, but he was alive. Cara moaned and he struggled to get to her. She had a big scratch on her neck. The sleeve of her shirt was torn and her arm was bleeding. He ran his hands over her. No broken bones.
“Remind me never to do that again,” she whispered, and he knew she’d be all right.
He helped her up and pushed her toward the woodpile. They ducked behind it just in time. Lance walked around the cabin toward the steps to the beach road, so close Nick could almost reach out and touch him. Cara gasped and Nick clamped his hand over her mouth. Lance walked right on by, whistling.
As Lance reached the road, Cara whispered, “He thinks he killed us.”
“Yeah, I know. The guy looks real torn up about it, too, doesn’t he?”
Nick took Cara’s hand and they ran past the burning cabin to the boat. He grabbed the phone and handed it to her. “Call for help. Now.” He didn’t have time to turn on the blowers before the first shot hit the boat, and Nick knew they couldn’t outrun the bullets. He couldn’t risk a repeat of the last time. He had to stand and fight, and he would to save Cara’s life.
“Oh, God, not again,” she whispered. “Please not again.”
Nick grabbed the flare gun and slid the side window open. He didn’t know if the thing worked, but he had to try. His little handgun wouldn’t hit anything at that range. He’d have to wait until Lance got closer.
He fired the first flare, but it was a dud. Another shot
pinged against the side of the boat and he ducked. Loading another flare, he took aim while Cara sat on the floor, talking to the 911 operator. He fired and the flare went off about three feet in front of Lance. “Damn, I missed him.”
Lance fired again and again, as Nick huddled on the floor with Cara. Two windows were broken, but the bullets didn’t hit them. And then the shooting stopped. In some ways, the sudden silence was more worrisome than the bullets, because now they didn’t know where he was. Nick raised his head and peeked out the window, but Lance was nowhere in sight.
“Is he gone?” asked Cara.
“No, he’s out there somewhere.” Lance was too close to his goal to give up now.
Smoke from the burning cabin obscured the hill, and Nick knew Lance was hiding out there somewhere. He must know he was running out of time, and that meant he’d make his move soon, before the cops or fire department arrived.
<>
Lance hunched down in the bushes, hot with anger. How in the hell had they gotten out of the cabin? He’d been watching the only door, and the windows in the back weren’t big enough to get through.
The boat rocked and Lance knew Nick and Cara were still on board. He moved fast, circling the fire, making his way down the beach toward the boat. The gun was jammed, so he tossed it into the water. This wasn’t over by any means. She wasn’t cheating him out of what was rightfully his. He’d kill her and lover boy, too.
He reached in his pants pocket and pulled out a small handgun, his spare. This one could be traced to him, but he wouldn’t let a little thing like that get in the way. He’d burn the boat, too. With all that gasoline on board, the bullets would melt along with the bodies.
<>
The late afternoon light had faded, obscured by smoke mixed with gathering rain clouds. Nick left the lights off in the boat and kept his head down, unwilling to give Lance a target to shoot at. The light on the dock sent a warm glow through the boat windows.
“Where is he?” whispered Cara.
Nick shrugged.
She pointed to the gaff clipped to the wall by the door. It was a long pole with a big, sharp hook on the end, like an oversized fish hook on a pole. On his knees, Nick grabbed the gaff. The gun was loaded and ready. It should be enough. He prayed it would be enough to protect Cara.
