Ned Johnson motioned an angry and outraged Rusty McConnell toward the phone. "This could he our boy calling."
Clinching the receiver so tightly that his knuckles whitened, Rusty answered, "D.B. McConnell."
"You had your chance, McConnell." The muffled voice held an edge of sadistic pleasure. "All you had to do was not bid on the NASP contract and Addy would have been safe."
"Who the hell is this? If you've done anything to harm my daughter, I'll—"
"You'll what?" The man laughed. "You should have followed instructions."
"I can still cancel the bid," Rusty said. "Is that what you want?"
"It's too late, much too late for Addy."
"No, no it isn't. Tell me what you want and I'll do it. Just don't hurt Addy."
"She won't be in any pain. It's going to happen so quickly, she won't feel a thing. One big boom and she'll be joining her illustrious Delacourt ancestors. Of course, you won't find enough of her to bury in the old family cemetery."
The line went dead. Rusty cursed loudly, using a string of profanities that would have put the foulest-mouthed hoodlum to shame.
Ned Johnson and Nick jumped on Rusty the minute he replaced the receiver, asking him question after question. Rusty went over the conversation again and again.
Nick knew there had to be a clue in the kidnapper's words, if only he could figure out what it was. As minutes ticked by, slowly but surely counting down the last moments of Addy's life, Nick kept making Rusty repeat every word the caller had said. Finally, Rusty broke under the pressure, turning on Nick. Rusty's big, hard fist made contact with Nick's jaw, knocking the younger man to the floor. Nick decided right then and there that he was glad he hadn't been on the receiving end of Rusty McConnell's wrath when the old man had been a little younger and in his prime.
Dina, who entered the room just as Nick picked himself up off the floor, ran to her fiancé, encircling his thick waist with her slender arms. "You can't go on this way, Rusty, darling! You must get some rest."
"How the hell can I rest when some lunatic has my daughter and is planning to … blow … her … up." Forceful, manly tears streamed down Rusty's ruddy cheeks and rocked his robust frame. He clung to Dina, who cooed soothing words to him as she stroked his back.
Once again Nick went over the kidnapper's messages, praying that something would click in his mind. It's too late for Addy. She won't be in any pain. One big boom and she'll be joining her illustrious Delacourt ancestors. You won't find enough of her to bury in the old family cemetery.
Nick paced the floor, ruffling his already mussed hair with restless fingers. Again, Romero, again. One big boom. Delacourt ancestors. Old family cemetery.
Wherever the kidnapper had taken Addy, he'd planted a bomb. But where had he taken her? And how long before the bomb exploded?
Delacourt ancestors. Old family cemetery. Elm Hill! God, it was a long shot, but what if Addy's kidnapper knew about her mother's ancestral home? Addy had told him that no one had lived there since she and her father had moved out twenty-five years ago.
Nick found Rusty and Dina sitting together on the living-room sofa. Rusty gazed up at him with tear-filled eyes. Addy's father looked every day of his seventy years.
"Where's Elm Hill?" Nick asked. "How do I get there?"
"Elm Hill?" Rusty sat up straight, his tired expression growing alert. "You think he took her to Elm Hill?"
"It's possible. He mentioned her Delacourt ancestors and the old family cemetery."
"The cemetery is on the estate." Rusty jumped up. "I'll go with you and show you the way."
"No," Nick said. "I'm playing a hunch. Addy could be anywhere. You need to stay here by the phone in case the kidnapper tries to get in touch with you again."
"Then take one of Johnson's boys with you."
"If the kidnapper is still there with her when I arrive, I don't want to scare him off. I'll have to go in alone."
Rusty pulled Nick into his bear-like hug, stunning Nick with his affection. "You save our girl."
Nick couldn't reply. He hoped Addy's father knew that he'd do anything for Addy, even die if it was necessary.
Rusty gave Nick instructions on the quickest route out of Huntsville to Elm Hill. Dina, Rusty and Ned Johnson followed Nick outside to his silver Jag.
"Keep in touch by car phone," Johnson said. "I don't like you going out there alone. Anything could happen."
"If I'm wrong about Elm Hill, it won't matter." Nick got behind the wheel, revved the motor and drove down the driveway.
He wasn't a very religious man. Hell, he hadn't been inside a church since his grandmother used to drag him off to Sunday mass. But he sought out God's ear, hoping that The Man Upstairs was listening. He needed a big favor, and he was willing to make any kind of deal necessary. Could he make a deal with God? If he could, he'd promise Him anything in exchange for Addy's life.
* * *
Chapter 13
« ^ »
He had stripped Addy down to her black teddy. For a while she'd been afraid he was going to rape her. He had touched her intimately and called her sweet Addy.
Why had she never seen this side of him? Obviously he was a very sick man—a man so obsessed with her father's money that he had already killed two men and was plotting two more murders.
She didn't know how long she'd been alone in the front parlor at Elm Hill. It could have been hours since he'd left. She didn't know.
Straining to see the digital timer attached to the heavy canvas belt he had strapped around her waist, Addy toppled over. Biting down, clamping her teeth to keep from crying, she tumbled around on the dusty floor until she righted herself again, sitting up on her knees. The rope that tied her hands behind her was attached to her ankles.
Even though he had been on Nick's list of suspects, she had never once actually considered him. How could she have been so blind? She and her father had opened their home to him, had accepted him as a part of the family because he was Dina's stepson.
Alone and frightened, Addy went over in her mind everything that happened since Brett Windsor had driven her to Elm Hill.
He had forced her inside the house at gunpoint, made her remove her clothes, and then had run his hands over her with rough, sadistic, sexual pleasure. Closing her eyes, she shut out the dawn light that crept through the tall, bare windows. She couldn't stop herself from reliving those terrifying moments she'd spent with Brett before he'd left her alone to die.
Outside a night owl hooted and a thousand katydids sang in unison.
Brett forced her to her knees, almost knocking her over in his attempt to subdue her. With unnatural strength, he jerked her hands behind her back, binding them securely with nylon cord, then draping the rope over her ankles, effectively hog-tying her.
"Don't do this, Brett." She wasn't too proud to beg; the threat of dying had quickly put her priorities in the proper order.
"Oh, sweet Addy, I had hoped we'd have more time together. I was so looking forward to making love to you." Brett traced the lines of her face with his fingertips. "But that was before Nick Romero had you. I don't want his leavings. Not a second time."
"Are you talking about Dina?" Addy tugged on her wrists. The cord was tight, with very little slack, allowing no chance for escape.
"Did you suspect that we were lovers? Or did Romero tell you?"
"Brett, if it's the money, Daddy will pay you whatever you want if you'll just let both of us go. You and Dina can fly out of the country with millions." She hoped that she could reason with him, despite his apparent madness.
"I don't want a few measly millions." He carried the battery-operated lantern with him when he moved toward the door. "I plan to have it all. Everything that belongs to D.B. McConnell will be mine and Dina's in just a few months."
"If you kill Daddy and me, Dina won't inherit anything. She—she's not even named in Daddy's will."
"Not yet, but she will be. Once she and Rusty are married."
"T
hen … you … you haven't hurt Daddy?" An instant surge of relief rushed through Addy. Somewhere in all this craziness there just might be a note of sanity, a ray of hope in the darkness. "Where is Daddy, Brett? What have you done with him?"
"I set your father free only moments before I returned to the hospital and met you at the elevator." Brett smiled at her, his stunning, boyish smile that disguised a sick mind. "I had to kidnap Rusty. You left me no other choice when you allowed Romero to take you into hiding. It was the only way to get you back to Huntsville."
"Why did you have to get me back to Huntsville? I don't understand."
"You're the one I had to kidnap in order for my plan to work. You, Addy, you. Not your father. Rusty's probably at home now, all safe and sound."
Addy sighed with relief. If her father was free, he'd be able to tell Nick and the FBI that Brett was behind all the threats. Suddenly the reality of the situation hit her. Surely Brett wasn't so insane that he would have released a man capable of identifying him. "Does Daddy know that you—that you're—"
"I kept Rusty drugged the whole time. He has no idea who kidnapped him."
"Nick will figure it out. He'll find me, and when he does, he'll kill you. Do you hear me, Brett? Nick will kill you."
Addy called after him, but be didn't reply. She heard his footsteps as he walked out into the foyer and opened the front door. He returned quickly, carrying the lantern and a nylon duffel bag. Bending over beside her, he dropped the bag to the floor.
"Brett, I thought you liked me." Addy had no idea if she could get through to him, but she had to try. What other alternative did she have?
"Addy, sweet, I do like you. I would have made you my wife, if only you'd shown the least bit of interest in me." He unzipped the duffel bag. "I would have allowed you to live another year or so, until I'd disposed of your father and you'd made me your only beneficiary."
"How is killing me now going to get you all of Daddy's money?"
"Once you're dead and Rusty marries Dina, she will, of course, become his only beneficiary." Pulling out a heavy canvas belt, Brett laid it out carefully on the floor. "He will be so overwrought after losing you that Dina will fear for his sanity, but loving him the way she does, she'll be able to persuade him to marry her as soon as possible."
Suddenly Addy realized Brett's diabolical plan. Oh, dear Lord, why had her father fallen victim to Dina's seductive charm? If that woman hadn't wormed her way into their lives, none of this would be happening. And she would never have met Nick Romero, her one hope of survival. "You're going to kill Daddy, too, aren't you?"
"Kill Rusty?" Brett's maniacal laughter echoed in the stillness of the empty parlor. "No, no. Rusty will be so distraught over your death that he'll go into a steady decline—aided by Dina, naturally. After a few months, the memory of how you died will completely destroy your father. He'll probably die suddenly with a heart attack. Of course, if he doesn't oblige us by dying, we'll give him a little assistance. Who knows? Rusty might lose his sanity and put a gun to his head and pull the trigger."
"Daddy would never kill himself!" Addy screamed, unable to control the rage burning inside her. "Anyone who knows Daddy would never, ever believe his death was suicide."
"That's where you're wrong, sweet Addy." Brett removed something that looked like a small, digital clock from the nylon bag. "You're going to die such a horrible death that—well, there won't be any body to bury, no funeral, no chance to say farewell." Brett dug out a spool of wire, then lifted up a metal box and placed both items on the floor beside the canvas belt.
Sour, salty bile burned a trail up Addy's chest and into her mouth. She thought she was going to throw up. What was Brett going to do to her? There won't be any body to bury. "If you were after Daddy's money, why did you demand that he not bid on the NASP contract when you knew it would mean millions in profits for M.A.C.?"
"The NASP contract proved to be an effective smoke screen, didn't it? No one will suspect me in the kidnappings or murders because I would have nothing to gain from M.A.C. losing out on the NASP contract."
"You wanted us to suspect Gerald, didn't you?" Addy glared at her kidnapper, longing for the freedom to attack him, to kick and scratch and hit. Anger welled up inside of her, bubbling like boiling liquid ready to overflow.
"You and Rusty jumped at the chance to condemn Carlton." Brett shook his head, grunting in a mock show of sadness. "Don't you think hiring Linc Hites was a stroke of genius on my part? His only connection to anyone who knew you was to your ex-husband."
"How did you meet Linc Hites?" She wondered how long she could keep Brett talking. She needed time—enough time for Nick to fit all the pieces together.
"Linc and I owed the same man, a rather unsavory businessman, some money. Isn't coincidence a wonderful thing? It brought me together with Linc Hites and brought you together with Nick Romero."
"And it brought Daddy and Dina together."
"Oh, that wasn't coincidence, sweet Addy. That was planned." Brett flipped open the metal box. "I've mapped out everything from the very beginning. When you didn't succumb to my charm, I had to do a little replotting. Simple enough, really—until Romero showed up and thwarted the first kidnapping attempt, then hung around causing trouble."
"Nick's gut instincts kept telling him that something was wrong about the kidnapper's demand. All the while Daddy and I suspected Gerald, Nick wouldn't rule out other possibilities. Sooner or later, he'll figure it out, Brett. You won't get away with this."
"Later won't help you, Addy." Brett's steady, knowledgeable hands worked quickly, removing a small wad of some kind of rubbery substance from the metal box. The glob reminded her of the Silly Putty the children played with at the day-care center. "Romero may think he's a real tough guy, but he's not so smart. Not nearly as smart as I am. And, if by some miracle, he does figure out that Dina and I planned this whole thing, then I'll just have to dispose of one unwanted and unneeded old Latin lover."
"Dina would never let you kill Nick. She loves him."
"I can handle Dina. She may love Romero, but she loves money even more. Besides, she's as deep in this mess as I am."
"Does she love money enough to kill for it? To risk the death penalty if she's caught?"
"Dina does what I tell her to do. Ever since my father died, she's depended on me."
Addy watched while Brett turned and came toward her. She wanted to run, but she was hog-tied and could barely move. Cringing when Brett slipped the canvas belt around her, easing it beneath the cord that bound her wrists and ankles, she willed herself to be strong. Now was not the time to panic. She was still alive. Things weren't hopeless. Not yet.
"I admit that I don't especially like Dina, but I can't believe she's capable of murder," Addy said.
"She isn't. Dina hasn't murdered anyone."
Brett clipped the digital timer to the canvas belt, then attached the thin wiring to the fuse he'd fastened to the dab of putty-like substance he'd molded across the belt's metal buckles.
"I had to promise not to hurt you before Dina would agree to help me with the kidnapping attempt," Brett said. "I convinced her that all I wanted was to hold you for ransom. She knows how badly I need money. She's such a sentimental creature. She's really become quite fond of Rusty, you know."
Addy realized that she'd just been wired with a bomb of some sort. She knew very little about such things, but the evidence was there before her, an undeniable fact. Brett Windsor intended to blow her to kingdom come. A surge of pure fear-driven bile filled Addy's mouth. Turning sideways, she threw up, retching until her stomach emptied itself.
Brett took a linen handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped Addy's mouth, then grabbed the cord that bound her and dragged her into the corner of the room.
"As soon as I set the timer, I'll have to leave to call your father and Romero and give them the sad news." Reaching down, he activated the digital timer. Silently the deadly device began ticking away the last minutes of Addy's life.
Outside a night owl hooted and a thousand katydids sang in unison.
Huddled on her knees, wearing nothing but a black teddy, Addy McConnell awaited her rescue. While time raced by quickly, she consoled herself with one thought. Nick Romero.
Nick would find her before the bomb exploded. He had to find her. He was her paladin, her champion. He would never allow anything to harm her.
She knew with a certainty born of her love for Nick and her hopes for the future that she couldn't die. Not now. Elizabeth Mallory had prophesied that Addy would give Nick children. Two little girls. She could picture Nick's daughters. The two perfect angels, one with her flame-red hair, the other with his midnight black. One with her green eyes, the other with his dark brown.
They would name the eldest, the green-eyed brunette, Maria, after Nick's grandmother. And the younger, the brown-eyed redhead, would be called Madeline, after her own mother.
While the digital timing device blinked away the minutes, Addy kept her sanity by planning her future with Nick, by thinking about Maria and Madeline and about what a proud papa Nick Romero would be.
* * *
Nick pulled into the weed- and grass-infested circular drive at Elm Hill. The first, tentative rays of sunshine peeked from behind the far horizon. The dawn of a new day was breaking. He prayed that Addy was still alive to greet the morning.
The old antebellum mansion stood as a regal, if somewhat decaying, reminder of a South that had ceased to exist years ago. Like a Southern belle long past her prime, the house sagged with the ravages of time and abandonment.
Nick felt in his pocket for the key Rusty had given him, but when he tried the door it swung open. His heart accelerated at the thought that someone had been there before him. Examining the lock more carefully, he found that it had been jimmied. Addy was here. He could feel her presence.
There had been no other car in the drive and he hadn't run into any traffic on the lonely stretch of road leading to the turn-off. If Addy's kidnapper was still here, he was on foot. Taking no chances, Nick pulled out his 9 mm. automatic. Damn his noisy cane! But if the kidnapper was inside, he would have already heard Nick's car when he arrived. Time was of the essence if a bomb was involved. He hadn't dared waste precious minutes parking farther away and walking. Making his way into the foyer, Nick waited a few seconds, allowing his vision to adjust to the shadowy darkness inside the mansion. He checked the parlor on the right side. Empty. He turned left. Then he saw her.
PALADIN'S WOMAN Page 21
