Cynthia Hamilton - Madeline Dawkins 02 - A High Price to Pay

by Cynthia Hamilton

  “Should’ve known with all that dancing you’d be quick on your feet,” he said, openly smiling at Madeline’s diverting moves.

  With the use of both his hands, plus the two lethal weapons, Madeline figured the best thing for her to do was stay on the defensive for as long as she could while maintaining a safe enough distance. Her only real hope was to tire him out a little while reinforcing his belief that evasion tactics were all she had going for her.

  Usherwood led them in a dance of strike and avoidance that he found exhilarating for the first couple of minutes. When his expression changed, Madeline sensed he was starting to be bored from the lack of physical contact. His strikes intensified in speed; the combinations were more advanced than anything Madeline had learned to do yet. But she had a keener motivation than Usherwood, however deadly his ingrained modus operandi. Lauren’s life and hers depended on besting a highly-trained combat warrior.

  “Cute, but this isn’t exactly how I want to spend our limited time together,” Usherwood said. He was breathing heavier now, exposing his crooked, discolored teeth, which Madeline took as a good sign. His next strike came from his right foot, followed by a powerful right punch that grazed Madeline’s face and rocked her footing. The follow-through brought him so close, she had no choice but to step back far enough and launch a strike—a powerful kick to his chest that made him stagger backwards.

  The fury that contact unleashed sent Madeline’s adrenalin rushes into overdrive. Usherwood came at her with everything, landing two punches, one to her shoulder and one to the knee she had used to block the strikes. Panting now, he backed up and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. His next strike was a continuation of that seemingly innocuous move. When the backhanded punch failed to connect with Madeline’s body, he had to work to control his anger.

  He stood back, arms up, feet apart, knees slightly bent. The guttural yells he unleashed as he intensified his attack—hands, arms, legs whipping so fast, they stirred the air—told Madeline she was dead if any of the strikes landed on their targets. With her hands restrained by the painful zip ties, her repertoire of strikes was handicapped. This factor wasn’t lost on her opponent, who now realized he was being physically out-maneuvered by a half-bound woman.

  “Fun’s over Madeline,” he said, standing back, winded. He pulled the gun from his waistband and aimed at her. Quicker than a muzzle flash, he swung around and pulled the trigger, eliciting an excruciating cry from Lauren as the bullet pierced her shoulder. During the skirmish, she had managed to roll over onto her back, which accounted for Usherwood’s poorly placed shot.

  Disgusted now on two fronts, he turned his attention away from Madeline while he adjusted his aim. Before he could squeeze the trigger, Madeline landed a vengeance-fueled kick to his back, pitching him forward hard enough for him to lose the gun. He stumbled and staggered toward the firearm, giving Madeline enough time to set up a debilitating combination of kicks that landed him out of reach of the gun.

  Livid and raging like a wounded bull, Usherwood pitched himself off the ground, unsheathing his knife like a seasoned gang member. Crouched low, he swore furiously, tipping off Madeline that she had pushed him to the point where his anger made him careless, but also more deadly.

  She was seconds away from death. Visuals of the aftermath of Usherwood’s frenzied mutilation of their bodies made terror and defiance rise up through her body, giving vent in a savage roar that dwarfed Lionel’s earlier battle cry. With the roar came the most fierce heel kick she’d ever unleashed, aimed at his solar plexus. He fell back on his butt and expelled a whoosh of air like that of a punctured ball, rendering him unable to move or breathe. Despite his immobilized state, he still had hold of the knife. Madeline planted her right foot behind her left and sidestepped into a kick that slammed into the fist holding the knife and set it sailing across the barn.

  Now that both weapons were out of reach, Usherwood turned on the commando instinct for survival. He bounced to his feet and began to circle Madeline. She matched him step for step, but it became apparent to her that in sheer usable body parts alone, she would be the loser in this fight, which meant the end for her.

  She thought of poor Lauren, sobbing in agony, blood soaking her shirt at a sickening rate. Madeline was the only thing standing between both their deaths. It was an uneven match, but it gave her an unexpected thrill at having put up as much of a fight as she had. As they went around, vigilantly evaluating each other, she became aware that Usherwood was favoring his now-swollen right wrist. The odds had moved slightly in her favor, but not enough. Even if Lauren had the presence of mind to capture one of the discarded weapons, she was still in no position to aid in Madeline’s fight.

  But then it hit Madeline that Usherwood, with his back to the gun-shot girl, had dismissed her as an adversary. With her eyes still riveted to her enemy, she feigned a momentary dividing of her attention. A minor shift of her gaze to Usherwood’s right, accompanied by a mere twitch of her lips, had him whipping his head around to the back, giving her a precious second to execute a stunning heel-to-the neck kick that knocked Usherwood unconscious.

  Not willing to risk his revival, Madeline moved in fast and came down with all the might left in her, delivering another blasting heel kick to his right temple. The sickening yet beautiful sound of bone crushing gave Madeline her first sign of hope. Winded, she staggered back, panting to bring air back to her lungs. She stood, leaning forward, her legs aching like nothing she’d ever experienced, fearing that the monster was only napping, when bright red blood began to trickle out of Usherwood’s ear.

  Giddy with her victory, Madeline laughed as she cried while staggering off in the direction of the knife. She kicked it towards Lauren like she would have a soccer ball.

  Lauren was conscious but weak. It took her a while to understand the battle to save themselves from unspeakable torture was over. Madeline lowered herself next to her, and managed to grasp the knife with her fingers.

  “We’re going to make it, sweetie. We’re going to get you to the hospital as soon as I can get my arms free.” Lauren looked at Madeline with eyes that were starting to glaze over. “Honey, I’m going to transfer the knife in my hands to yours. Can you hold onto it while I try to cut through this restraint?” Lauren nodded weakly. “Okay,” Madeline said, “just lean more to your left side…that’s good. All right, now I’m going to give it to you…can you feel that with your fingers?” With her back turned to Lauren, all Madeline could do was use her sense of touch to guide her.

  “Oww…” Lauren yelped softly.

  “Sorry.” Madeline used her pinkie fingers to locate Lauren’s hands while gripping the knife handle as well as the restraint would allow her. After dropping the knife twice and struggling to pick it up again without cutting her fingers, she finally got it situated blade-side out in Lauren’s grasp. It was painfully difficult on both of them, but after sawing at the strong plastic, Madeline had cut away enough of the zip tie to break free of it. She rubbed her almost numb hands together and worked fast to free Lauren. Madeline checked Lauren’s pulse while whispering words of encouragement. She grabbed the knife and found Usherwood’s discarded shirt and sliced off a sleeve to wrap around Lauren’s wound.

  As Madeline passed by Usherwood’s inert body, she stopped to check his pockets for the keys to the Jeep. She found them and a disposable cell phone. She bandaged Lauren’s shoulder and got her to her feet. Together, they stumbled out into the blazing sunlight. Madeline got Lauren into the front seat where she could keep an eye on her. As soon as they were headed down the shale drive, she called 911 to advise them she was bringing in a gunshot victim to the ER who’d lost a lot of blood. She lost reception as the rutted driveway descended between the hillsides. She felt the need to inform Slovitch of Usherwood’s death, but that would have to wait.

  When they came to the ramshackle gate, Madeline reached across and strapped the seatbelt around La
uren. She then pushed her foot down on the gas pedal and plowed through, as hunks of boards and barbed wire exploded around them. She hazarded a glance at Lauren as she whipped the Jeep through the curves of Mountain Drive.

  “Don’t give up on me, Lauren. You’re going to make it, sweetheart. I promise you,” Madeline said as she blinked away the tears.

  FORTY-TWO

  Mike and Madeline were seated behind Ross and Cherie as they waited for Helen’s arraignment to begin. They had been informed by Conrad Adams that Helen had agreed to a plea bargain in order to avoid a trial. Because the son she had stolen and killed for had given her up in order to save his own hide, Helen was still going away for life for confessing to grand larceny and two counts of murder.

  At first Helen denied having killed Teresa, but with Madeline’s help, the police were able to prove the knife that cut the poor girl’s throat had been taken from the catering crew during Cherie’s now infamous party. Once they had that knowledge, the forensics team found traces of blood in Helen’s Volvo that matched Teresa’s. Video footage from various sources was used to piece together Helen slipping into the kitchen with the unsuspecting girl in tow. The wound on Teresa’s neck was consistent with the blade of Philippe’s sous chef’s missing knife. Confronted with that information, Helen finally confessed and told the police where she had disposed of the weapon.

  As part of the agreement, Helen had to allocute the crimes she had committed. After confirming with the defendant that she wished to plead guilty, Judge Holbrook ordered her to rise and give an accounting of her offenses. From three rows back, Mike and Madeline watched as Helen rose. She stood resolutely before the court, hands to her sides, facing her day of reckoning.

  “Tell the court your actions on April 16th of this year that led to the crimes you committed,” Judge Holbrook directed her. Helen took a moment to compose herself. When she spoke, it was in a clear and steady voice.

  “Shortly before the arrival of Mrs. Alexander’s guests, I returned to my office and found Miss Story there. She seemed nervous but determined to speak to me. I knew right away she had figured out I was the one who taken the diamond and sapphire bracelet from her safe. I knew she suspected her companion of taking the other three pieces that I’d stolen ten days earlier, but since I was the only other person besides her and Mr. Alexander who knew the combination to her safe, I realized she had put the two together.” Helen inhaled deeply before continuing.

  “I denied it and told Miss Story her undocumented companion was a liar and a thief, and that she should be turned over to the authorities immediately. I could tell Miss Story was not prepared for our conversation to end that way. She left looking very fragile and out of her depth. But I knew at some point the truth was going to come out. That’s when I realized I needed to put a stop to it.

  “With all the festivities under way, I had little time to think. If I could’ve returned the pieces to Miss Story, I would have. But I knew that the three pieces I’d taken from her room had already worked their way into the black market. I also knew that Miss Story had hired Ms. Dawkins to find out who had taken the missing jewels. And since I had taken the bracelet out of the safe only hours before the party, I was banking on the fact that Ms. Dawkins was still unaware it had gone missing and that I was the only person who could’ve taken it.”

  Helen reached for a glass of water. After taking a sip, she picked up where she left off, seeming more relaxed now, as if she were recounting the actions of someone other than herself.

  “When Ms. Dawkins arrived to oversee the party, I kept my eye on her and Miss Story, making sure I could intervene on some pretext in order to keep them from speaking. When I saw her hand Ms. Dawkins’ assistant a note, I knew my time to act was running out. After Miss Story and Teresa left the party and went upstairs, I waited a few minutes, making sure no one else was going up at the same time. I then went up the front staircase to Miss Story’s room.

  “Teresa had already gotten her undressed when I let myself in. Miss Story was visibly upset to see me. She was nervous about Teresa and the threats I had made. I made a big show of being helpful, insisting that I personally drive Teresa home. Miss Story protested, but I was so insistent, it put her in an awkward position. I knew she was afraid, but I don’t think she understood the lengths I was willing to go to protect my secret.

  “After Teresa and I left Miss Story’s suite, I said I had forgotten to check something and told the girl to wait in the hallway for me. I slipped back in without Miss Story noticing. I took one of the silk drapery cords and snuck up behind her. I took the cord with me and stashed it in the linen closet. After Mrs. Alexander had been sedated and put to bed, I put the cord in one of her dresser drawers.”

  Muffled sobbing interrupted Helen’s confession as Ross’s grief broke him down. The judge asked him if he wanted to leave the courtroom, but Ross pulled himself together enough to decline. Cherie, her face awash in tears, held his hand tightly in hers. The judge signaled for Helen to continue.

  “Before we went to my car, I had to retrieve my handbag from my office, which took me through the kitchen. I had Teresa wait by the doorway as I went in and got it. As I passed back through the kitchen, I took advantage of an idle knife and shoved it into my purse.

  “As I walked Teresa to my car, I apologized for threatening to have her deported. I told her I understood how important she was to Miss Story and that I had no intention of calling the INS. I don’t think she believed me at first, so I told her that I was going to increase her pay to prove her job was secure. After that, she was much more relaxed. I made a quick detour to the caretaker’s shed while Teresa got into my car.

  “I told her I had to take the back roads because of all the reporters. When I got close to the curve on Camino Viejo, I faked a flat tire by riding on the rough shoulder. I told her my phone was in my handbag, which was in trunk. I faked a call, then told Teresa I was going to have to change the tire myself.

  “I made enough racket pretending to look for the tire jack, Teresa got out to help me. I waited until she was standing beside me, then I grabbed her and pulled her into the wooded area and slit her throat. I waited until she had stopped bleeding, then I wrapped her in a tarp I’d had taken from the caretaker’s shed. I put her body in the trunk and drove to Rattlesnake Trail and hid it in the brush. I drove to Milpas Street and threw the tarp into a dumpster behind a grocery store.”

  Helen took another sip of water. “That’s all of it, Your Honor.”

  The courtroom was silent for a moment as everyone absorbed Helen Bagley’s chilling allocution. There had been a distinct lack of remorse in her statement. Though she hadn’t been able to negotiate anything lower than life imprisonment without the possibility of parole, she seemed unfazed by the sentence before her. Having lost the support of her only child and the employer she had idolized for two decades, there didn’t seem to be anything left to lose. Her sentence had been set beforehand and there was nothing left for the judge to do except go through the formalities.

  The only good news for everyone else involved was the quick closure to a multi-layer nightmare. Ross and Cherie had become the country’s darlings for having endured such tragic losses. The paparazzi thus lost interest in them, except as a footnote to the conviction of “The Housekeeper from Hell.”

  “Do you want to grab something to eat before our first interview?” Mike asked as he and Madeline left the courthouse.

  Madeline’s stomach was aching with hunger, but she didn’t have much of an appetite. She was emotionally drained and not at all looking forward to trying to find a replacement for Lauren. It was hard to imagine finding someone else who could competently handle both businesses the way she had. Or whose personality was so compatible with her two employers.

  Still, Madeline certainly couldn’t blame Lauren for quitting; she would’ve been shocked if she hadn’t. After the horrors she had endured at the hands of Lionel �
��Thank God He’s Dead” Usherwood, it would take her months, possibly years, to recover. Her departure was made even more difficult knowing she was going to miss working with them as much as they were going to miss her.

  Mike wasn’t surprised his question had gone unanswered. As they crossed Anacapa Street at Figueroa, he could practically hear the thoughts ricocheting around in Madeline’s head. He had definitely seen a change in his partner after Usherwood’s death. Over all, she was less tense, but more distracted. At times she seemed dispirited; others times, almost serenely at peace. But she had crossed over into another classification of people, one that she probably never thought she’d belong to. She now ranked among those who had taken a life. He knew this weighed heavily on her. He also knew she wouldn’t change the outcome of her last faceoff with Usherwood if she could.

  As they passed the windows of Claire’s Croissants, Madeline peered inside.

  “It’s not crowded yet. You want to get something here?” Mike smiled and motioned for her to lead the way. No matter what happens in life, a body’s got to eat.

  Also by Cynthia Hamilton

  Novels

  Spouse Trap

  Lucky at Love (Some guys just never give up…)

  Alligators in the Trees

  Golden State

  Memoir

  Once Upon a Lyme… A Tale of Two Journeys