False Facades (Best Sellers: Best Romance/Humor )

by Martha Greenwood

  Alarm bells rang in Danielle's head and she struggled to remain nonchalant. "So . . . what are you planning to do about it?"

  Katherine sank into a nearby chair and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Already taken care of."

  "What?" The girl turned to face her mother. "What do you mean 'Already taken care of'? What did you do?"

  The older woman looked up sharply, her eyes narrowing. "Why are you so interested?"

  "Mother. What did you do?" Danielle enunciated through clenched teeth.

  "Did you know about Sam before this?"

  "Mom! What did you do to Sam?"

  * * *

  Vincent stared at Headmaster Finnegan. "Come again?"

  The older man cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Well, I said that I am aware of the fact that Sam Westlane has been taken out of school."

  "Excuse me?"

  "I know that Sam –"

  "How can you – do you know who took him out?" Vincent's fingers dug into the edges of the table.

  "Well, yes. I believe it was his uncle."

  Chills ran down Vincent's spine. "Did he have the papers? Did he have permission? You can't just let some minor leave – did Sammy give you his consent?"

  The headmaster furrowed his eyebrows. "Well, Sam was apparently waiting outside in the car while his uncle met up with me. But of course Mr. Westlane offered proof that he was the guardian –"

  "How is that possible? Sam or Samantha Westlane?"

  "What are you talking about?"

  "What was his proof?"

  "Well, he brought Sam's papers, birth certificate, and –"

  "What? For Sam? His name was listed as Sam?"

  "Well, no."

  Vincent gritted his teeth. "No?"

  "The papers were listed for a Terry Westlane, but Mr. Westlane explained that Sam liked to go by his current name out of respect for his dead sister."

  "Dead sister?" Vincent's hands clenched.

  "Samantha Westlane."

  Vincent closed his eyes tightly. "I cannot believe this. I cannot believe this."

  Headmaster Finnegan pushed up his glasses and frowned. "I don't understand why you're so upset, Vincent. I know that you've formed quite a close friendship with the boy, but you must understand that his family business is his own and should be private. Besides, I'm sure your mother would take care of all the matters."

  Vincent straightened up. "What does my mother have anything to do with this?"

  The man hesitated.

  "What did she do?"

  * * *

  The phone rang shrilly and William lunged for it, elbowing Jack away. "Hello?" He coughed breathlessly. "Hello? Sammy? Is it you? Please let it be you."

  There was a loud groan and his heartbeat spiked. "Sammy? Are you hurt?"

  "No. I'm too late. Oh god. I'm so sorry." It was a soft, feminine whisper, but it was not Sammy.

  William's heart plummeted and he smiled halfheartedly. "Danielle?"

  "Yeah. I – is Sammy missing?"

  "Yeah. We can't find her anywhere. We think -"

  "Oh no. Damn it. She moved so fast. Oh god. How can this – listen up, Will. I need you to tell Vincent something for me."

  "What?"

  "I think our mother had something to do with Sammy's disappearance. I think she helped Frank Westlane pull Sammy out."

  * * *

  Vincent walked briskly down the hall, his jaw taut and grim. His eyes never wavered as he headed toward the doors. Just as he was about to push through, a cry caught his attention.

  William wheezed. "Vincent! Where are you going? Danielle just called and she wanted me to tell you something about your mother –"

  Vincent's lips curled bitterly. "Like how she was present when Frank came in to pull Sammy out of school? Like how she offered to vouch for Frank Westlane's repute and excellent standing? Like how she told Headmaster Finnegan that she can attest to the bastard's honor?"

  William blinked. "I - I guess so?"

  "Tell Dani that I already got the message, Will." Vincent turned around to open the doors.

  "Wait! Where are you going?"

  "Home." Vincent didn't bother to turn around. "I think it's time to pay Mother a nice visit, don't you?" The doors swung shut behind the boy.

  William stood there. Then he muttered, "I'm so behind on the news. Why does everybody move so fast these days?"

  * * *

  His hands jammed in the pockets of his jeans, Tristan walked out of the glass doors out into the lawns. How had Frank managed to take Sammy without any one of us seeing?

  He edged along the perimeter, scanning the grounds to see if there was some clue to where Sammy had vanished off. Be it some broken jewelry (unlikely, since Sammy didn't wear much accessories since she'd taken on the role of Boy), some strands of hair (possible, if a sufficient clump of distinctly red hair was torn off) or even a bread crumb trail (Hansel and Gretel reference, might not be applicable) - nothing.

  That's when he nearly tripped over a tree branch and his temper finally snapped. After such a long day, he didn't need any more games. He just wanted her back. He swore underneath his breath as he swung his leg back to send the branch flying off. However, his eyes chose that time to notice something peculiar about the wooden obstacle and his legs tried to brake accordingly. What actually ensued though was a mad twist on his limbs' behalf and whoops, there went Tristan on his face.

  He coughed as he pushed himself up and he squinted at the branch. A rusty, dark substance was splattered on the end. Queasy apprehension clenched his stomach and his fingers quivered as he dug into his pocket to pull out his eyeglass case. He carefully slipped them on before leaning over to take a closer look.

  He reached to scratch at one of the spots and he had a sudden memory of his childhood days with Carrie, playing with Scratch n' Sniff stickers. His mouth went dry as he breathed in hesitantly, but his stomach rolled when he caught a familiar, metallic scent. Blood.

  Tristan fumbled to his knees and his eyes roved the grounds frantically, looking for more of the traces. There. In the grass. There. Among the leaves. Twisted and smeared. Blood. Sammy's blood. His breath hitched. Oh god. What the hell did he do to you, Sammy?

  * * *

  Caine's sea-green eyes darkened to a stormy aquamarine. "Well, hello. What do we have here?"

  Marvin squeaked. "Nothing! Nothing!"

  "Nothing? Doesn't look like nothing to me." He tugged hard on Marvin's arm and deftly swiped the card in his hand.

  "It's nothing!"

  "Well, we'll just have to see about that, won't we?" Caine hummed as he held the cream colored slip between the edges of his thumb and his index finger.

  Marvin looked over at the twins desperately, but they shrugged desperately. Jack glowered at them. "Guess they're finally getting a modicum of intelligence." His arms folded as he tapped his foot impatiently. "So what does it say, Caine? What had them giggling like little schoolgirls?"

  "We weren't –" Jack's glare silenced them again.

  Caine frowned as he turned back again, but he was rubbing his eyebrow. A neat white gash sliced through his right eyebrow, a scar that remained from a surfing accident four years ago. He thought it made him look particularly dashing and he'd developed the habit of rubbing the smooth flesh whenever he brooded. His fingers danced across the line rhythmically now.

  He narrowed his eyes. "What are you guys doing with Mrs. Grenford's business card?"

  "Nothing! We – we, uh, found it."

  "Found it? Where?"

  "Somewhere in the school. I, uh, we thought Vincent might have dropped it and um, we just wanted to return it to him, you know?"

  Jack and Caine exchanged looks. "Gee, Marvin, I always thought you were a brownnosing loser, but it turns out you're actually a brownnosing loser who's absolutely horrible in lying. Now fess up before we call Tristan in."

  Marvin actually went pale. "Please don't tell him. He wouldn't appreciate me fraternizing with the enemy's mother."

/>   "What? I mean, yeah. Be afraid. You bet Tristan's going to get all bothered and ferocious when he hears about the, um, fraternizing and what not. So you better tell us the whole truth or Tristan's going to blow."

  "It wasn't my idea! It was all Mrs. Grenford's doing! I was just a helpless pawn in her wicked plans! I had nothing to do with trussing Sammy up and –"

  "You did what?" Jack and Caine snapped.

  "I didn't do anything. Mrs. Grenford just gave me her business card and – and forced us to comply with her biddings. You know how scary she is, right?"

  "What did you do?"

  "We – we – we were merely the middlemen, you know? Like deliverers or – or – oh, you know that movie with that hot Asian chick who couldn't speak any English and was trapped in the trunk of the car and she was all banging and then that dude opened the trunk and was like 'Whoa' but it was like his job to bring her to some place because she was like his cargo or something – what's that movie called?"

  "What the hell are you yapping about?"

  "You – you know – oh! The Transporter! Yes, I remember now. We were like the Transporters –"

  "You brought Sammy to Mrs. Grenford?"

  "Yes, but only because she made us."

  Jack cocked his head. "You know how I said you were horrible at lying?"

  "Y – yes?"

  A nasty glint came into the normally warm brown eyes. "Well, let's just say you've graduated to horrendous."

  * * *

  Tristan was still on his knees as he sorted through the leaves with a ginger touch. It was getting to the point where his lower body was getting numbed and his kneecaps were tingling. Ghastly flashes of images darted before his eyes as his imagination ran wild. Sammy.

  "Tristan! Tristan!"

  His head jerked up and he watched in a daze as William, Jack and Caine ran toward him. Away from the school with the glinting panes of glass windows and across the greenery, they ran.

  He stared and his heart wavered between dread and hope.

  * * *

  "She did what? And he did what?"

  "Mrs. Grenford apparently assisted Frank in taking Sammy. Vincent is apparently on his way home to confront his mother and possibly kill Frank." William explained in huffs and puffs.

  Jack snarled, "Well, we found out that Marvin, Marco and Polo helped Mrs. Grenford in, um, acquiring Sammy from the school. They found her in a quiet hallway and dragged her out –"

  "To the woods. Outside, deep into the shade of the trees, where none of us can hear her," Tristan murmured.

  "Yeah. They said they left her with Mrs. Grenford, but they didn't see any man with her."

  "He was probably hiding. He likes spooking Sammy, to see her body shaking with realization, to see red, her hair, her blood." Tristan's expression darkened, face going pallid white, his blue eyes bright.

  Caine stared at him, disturbed, as he reached up to touch his scar again. The others remained mute.

  "Well, hell. No way am I getting stuck here in school while Vince goes off to play the hero. Right, Tristan? Tristan?"

  The boy was already walking, his footsteps heavy amidst the fallen leaves. His index finger looped through a chain of car keys and he shook it with a jingle over his shoulder.

  Chapter Twenty Six

  Danielle's fingers continued to tap erratically against the phone. Okay, should I call or should I wait – but what if I call and then he calls and then we overlap and we get a busy signal and then we try again and we continue in this crazed unending cycle – and why, oh why couldn't I be worrying over this problem because of an evil uncalling boyfriend instead of Sammy's evil nasty kidnapping uncle – oh, how I wish it was so simple and carefree – I will never ever complain again about such a mundane thing as my love –

  She jerked, spluttering, when the phone rang. Her hand was on the phone and yet, she still managed to fumble with it. "Hello?" She coughed.

  "Baby?"

  Chills crested over her spine.

  "If I'm a baby, then you must still be an unfertilized egg wallowing in your mother's womb," Danielle snapped.

  "Oh honey, you're only older than me by what? A couple of months?"

  "Yeah, if a couple of months mean two years."

  "Eh. I like my women mature anyway."

  "Well, gee, that's good because that's how I like my men too so I guess that crosses you out on my list, little boy."

  "I was on your list?"

  "Caine . . ."

  "Baby . . ."

  "Oh, for crying out – how can you still act like this? Will you just shut up already and tell me what's going on?"

  "Alright, alright, just trying to lighten up the mood –"

  "Caine . . ."

  "Alright, you can expect Vincent for an early visit."

  "Vincent's coming home?"

  "Yeah. He wanted to speak to your mother – well, if speaking can be another term for raging, screaming, and possible throwing of heavy objects."

  "Oh shit."

  "Yeah. He talked with the Headmaster, got this scary red glint to his eyes according to Will, and stormed out. I'm currently with Jack and Will in Tristan's car, though I'm not sure we're going to get there anytime soon to prevent the Son versus Mama Grenford throwdown."

  "Oh shit."

  "Um, yeah. So, uh, relax and try to exchange all hard covered books for fluffy pillows in the near vicinity, yeah?"

  "Oh shit."

  "Um, are you going to be okay? Okay, that was a stupid question. We're going as fast as we can, but you know, we don't want any further impediments by the cops or anything and – are you going to be alright? Oh, crap, dumb question repeat again. Sorry, I can't seem to stop myself. It's like the only thing I'm thinking -"

  "Oh shit."

  "Danielle? Are you alright?"

  "Please hurry."

  "Are you okay?"

  "Shit shit shittity shit."

  "Um . . ."

  "Vincent apparently just walked in and from the sound of that crash, I don't think our front door survived."

  "Shit."

  "Yeah."

  * * *

  "What is the meaning of this?" Katherine's eyes blazed down at the lobby as she clutched the railing of the stairs from the second floor.

  Her son returned an equally fiery glare. "Just thought to announce my homecoming, Mom."

  "Shouldn't you be at school?"

  "Shouldn't you be off aiding kidnappers and wrecking other people's relationships?"

  "What in the world are you blathering about?"

  "Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot you were too busy and important to remember the affairs of us little people. You probably have to run around all day long, the events a mere colorful blur in your mind. I'll try to jog your noggin a little then. Does Sam Westlane ring any bells for you, Mother?" He cocked his head, his eyes dark and unblinking.

  She pressed her lips together. "What about it?"

  If it was even possible, his eyes darkened further. He took a step and jerked his arms out of his jacket in short abrupt motions, yanking at the sleeves before dropping it to the floor. He stood there in his black shirt and jeans, just taking a moment to catch his breath even though he hadn't done any particularly strenuous exercise. He just stood and tried to collect his thoughts. Then he said, "Why?"

  Her fingers tightened on the polished wood, but her voice remained unfazed. "For you."

  Bitter laughter made her flinch. "Please, Mother. Please! Since when have you ever done things for me?"

  Her chest tightened and a roaring sound in her ears seemed to distance the whole scene. She brought her fist slamming down against the banister. She ignored the jolt of pain and she roared, "Everything, Vincent! Everything! I've always done everything I could for you and your sister. Up to this point, I've always lived and worked for the two of you and you say that I haven't done anything for you?"

  His lips pulled back as he tilted his head, appraising her with an almost lazy glance. "Oh, right. We appeared to ha
ve had this conversation before, haven't we? I say no and you say yes, wasn't it? You believe you're World's Finest Mom and I, well, don't think so."

  Danielle chose that moment to come sliding into the lobby. Her eyes darted back and forth between her brother and her mother as her teeth nagged at her bottom lip.

  "Exactly what have I done wrong this time, Vincent?"

  "You know what you did."

  She threw up her hands. "Is this all about that Sam? Would you just grow up already? How can you just lose your head over –"

  He snarled, "Sam is a girl! Sam is my girlfriend! Sam – Sammy is in danger and you just pushed her into the very arms that had her running and hiding away from all this time. You just vouched for the honor of a pedophile – of a sick, old man who has an inclination for incest and a taste for his brother's daughter! Can you tell me now that I have no reason to get so upset, Mother?"

  Katherine's fingers quivered, but she remained stolid as she stared down into her son's face.

  As Vincent watched his mother and the reaction – or rather, lack of reaction – in her face, he paled and his stomach felt pummeled. His hands ran through his hair, along his temple, around his cheeks, and over his mouth repeatedly as he blinked. "You knew."

  She said nothing and the silence pierced him.

  "You knew. You knew! You knew that she was a girl and that the bastard – you knew and you did nothing?"

  She raised her chin and kept her posture.

  "Oh, no. Right. You did do something." He stalked back and forth in front of the stairs before whirling around to jab a finger up at her. "You chose to send her back to him!"

  Katherine's tone was sharp. "I'm sure Frank Westlane is not really completely at fault here. You must know that a young girl has the tendency to exaggerate and –"

  "Oh, please!"

  "No, just shut up for once! Vincent, would you just listen? A nice, respectable girl will never behave like Samantha did –"

  "Oh, and I'm sure a nice, respectable girl gets abused by her uncle every day too –"

  "Listen! If she had been such a smart, good little girl, why didn't she go to the police and had everything sorted out? No. She chose to run away and enroll herself into an all boys school. Now what does that tell you about her character, hmm? Do you honestly think that she's an innocent darling who never ever thought about trying to secure herself one of you rich little boys? Oh, Vincent, why can't you see? You've all been deceived by her!"