The Beginning

by Catherine Coulter

  The last thing she needed in this crazy mix was Hannah. “I don’t think so, Dillon. But that’s a thought. Let me consider it. I don’t know, she’s pretty strong. It’s possible she could take me down.”

  He grunted. “Yeah, she probably could. Call me at the Bureau tomorrow with an update. Sherlock?”

  “Yes?”

  “I miss you really badly. I had to go to the gym by myself. It used to be just fine—in fact, I used to like going by myself—but now all I could do was one lat pulldown before I was looking around for you.”

  At least she was smiling when she gently punched off her cell.

  WHEN a shaft of light from the hospital corridor flashed across her face, Sherlock was awake in an instant, not moving, frozen, readying herself. It had to be a nurse, but she knew it wasn’t. She smelled Douglas’s distinctive cologne, a deep musky scent that was very sexy. She remembered that scent from the age of fifteen when he’d first come into their lives.

  She lay very still. She watched him walk slowly to her mother’s bed. He stood there for the longest time in the dim light sent in through the window, staring down at her mother.

  She saw him lean down and kiss her mother. She heard him say quietly, “Evelyn, why did you do this stupid thing? You know he’s a bastard. You know, surely, he’ll always be a bastard. What did you expect to prove by running out like that behind his car?”

  Her mother made no sound.

  Douglas lightly caressed her face with his cupped palm. Then he straightened and turned. He froze in his tracks, staring down at Sherlock.

  “Lacey, what are you doing here?”

  “I wanted to stay with my mother,” she said, very slowly coming up onto her knees, her back against the wall. She was wearing one of her favorite Lanz flannel nightgowns that came up high on her neck and covered her feet. “Didn’t my father tell you I was staying with her? No, I guess not. What are you doing here, Douglas?”

  He shrugged. “I was naturally worried about her. I wanted to make sure she was all right. I wanted to see her when I knew your father wouldn’t be here.”

  “Visiting hours were over a long time ago. How did you get in?”

  “Not a problem. I know the nurse, Lorette. She let me in. Seeing you is a surprise. I didn’t know you’d come. That Marlin Jones jerk is still free. I didn’t think you’d ever leave the hunt.”

  “Why were you kissing my mother?”

  “I’ve known your mother for many years, Lacey. She’s a good woman, almost like a mother to me.”

  “That kiss didn’t look at all filial.”

  He ignored that, saying, “I don’t want anything to happen to her, anything more, that is.”

  “That’s hard to believe, Douglas. You were kissing her like she was a lover.”

  “No, Lacey, you’re way off base. Why are you looking toward the door?”

  “I’m waiting for Candice to burst in here. She always seems to show up when you’re with me.”

  “I left her sleeping. She isn’t coming here.” Then he laughed. “But she’ll hate herself that she missed such an opportunity. Here you are in your nightgown in the same room with me. Yeah, she’d go wild.”

  “Well, I’m not up to anything wild tonight. Are you certain she’s home asleep?”

  “I hope so.”

  Lacey stood up, her nightgown like a red-patterned tent around her. There was sweet lace around the wrists and the neck. “I think you should leave now, Douglas. I don’t want her disturbed. I need to get some sleep. Oh yes, my father would never hurt her. She ran out behind his car on purpose.”

  “That makes no sense.”

  She had to smile at that. It seemed to be everyone’s litany recently.

  She closed the door after Douglas had left. She took a deep breath once she was in the blessed darkness again. She heard her mother’s even breathing. She burrowed under the three hospital blankets. It still took her a long time to get warm.

  Why had Douglas spoken to her unconscious mother as if she were his lover? Or had she imagined it?

  Her head began to pound. She wanted nothing more at the moment than to go home, to Dillon.

  THIRTY-THREE

  “I didn’t run into the driveway. Your father saw me pruning some oleander bushes. He called out to me, told me he wanted to talk to me about something. When I walked onto the driveway, he gunned his BMW and deliberately ran into me.”

  Lacey said very quietly, “Mother, there was a witness. He’s an old man who lives down the block from you. He claims you were hiding, then ran out so that Father could run into you.”

  “Old man Murdock,” her mother said, her voice deep with anger. Then she winced at the pain. “That old liar. He wanted me to have an affair with him, years ago, after his poor wife died of breast cancer. I told him where to shove it. So this is his revenge. The malicious old moron.”

  “It’s all right, Mom. Relax. That’s better. Breathe deeply. You can push that button if you want pain medication.”

  “How do you know what to do?”

  “When I was hurt, that’s what they told me. It helped. Please, Mom, help me understand what this is all about. Why would Dad want to kill you?”

  “To get my money, of course, so he can marry that bimbo lawyer clerk of his.”

  “What money? What clerk? Danny Elbright is his law clerk.”

  “I don’t know her name. She’s new, works with Danny. I don’t really care.”

  Judge Sherlock came into the room. “Ah,” he said from across the room, “you’re awake, Evelyn. How are you feeling?”

  In a querulous old-woman’s voice, Evelyn Sherlock said, “What are you doing here? You’re always at the courthouse this time of the morning. What do you want, Corman?”

  “This isn’t exactly a day to have business as usual. I’m here to see how you’re doing, naturally.”

  “I’ll live, no thanks to you. I’ll be pressing charges, you can count on that. Oh my, my head feels all soft. What’s on TV, Lacey? I always watch Oprah. Is she on yet?”

  “Oprah is on in the afternoon,” Judge Sherlock said. “Get a grip, Evelyn.”

  “Oh, then it’s The Price Is Right. That’s a great show. I can guess the amounts of money better than those stupid contestants. Do turn it on, Lacey.”

  It was down the rabbit hole, Sherlock thought as she switched on the TV, then handed her mother the remote.

  “You can leave now, Lacey. I’m not going to die. Your father didn’t hit me hard enough. I guess he couldn’t build up enough speed to get it done once and for all.”

  “All right,” Sherlock said. She leaned down and kissed her mother’s white cheek. “You take it easy, okay?”

  “What? Oh yes, certainly. I’ll bet that powerboat with all that stuff on it costs exactly thirty-three thousand five hundred dollars.”

  As Lacey walked from the room, she heard Bob Barker call out, “It’s thirty-four thousand!”

  She wasn’t aware her father was there until he stepped into the elevator with her.

  “I’ll see that she’s well taken care of. I’ve decided Mrs. Arch isn’t keeping good enough control. She never should have let her get away like that. Also, after the new shrink sees her this afternoon, I’ll call and let you know what she says. I’ll tell you one thing, though. Right now she certainly doesn’t sound as if she wants any attention from me. She sounds as if she wants me hung up by my balls.”

  “As you said, we’ll see.” She looked up at her handsome father, at the uncertainty and confusion in his eyes, at that stern set of his jaw. She lightly laid her hand on his forearm. “Take care, Dad. You don’t really think she’ll try to press charges?”

  “Probably not. She’ll forget all about it by this afternoon. If she doesn’t, the cops will treat her gently and ask me to see that she has better care.”

  “Dad, does Mother have money of her own?”

  “Yes, something in the neighborhood of four hundred thousand. It’s safely invested, has been
for years. She’s never had to touch it. Why do you ask? Oh, I know. Your mother’s been claiming I married her for her money again. Not likely, Lacey.”

  On a hunch, she called San Quentin from the airport. Belinda’s father, her mother’s first husband, Conal Francis, had been out of jail since the previous Monday. She pressed her forehead against her fisted hand. Where was Belinda’s father? Was he as crazy as her father had said he was?

  She called Dillon from the plane and got his answering machine. He was probably at the gym. She’d surprise him. She could see him walking through the front door all sweaty and so beautiful she’d have to try to touch all of him at once, which was great fun but impossible. Suddenly, in her mind’s eye she saw him and Hannah in the shower. The jealous rage surprised her. She was breathing hard, wanting to yell, but the person seated next to her on the plane probably wouldn’t understand. It was in the past. Every woman he’d ever had sex with was in the past, just as Bobby Wellman and his yellow Jaguar were in her past. That made her smile.

  It was raining hard in Washington, cold, creeping down into the forties, and utterly miserable. She couldn’t wait to get home. Home, she thought. It wasn’t her own town house, it was Dillon’s wonderful house, with the skylights that gave onto heaven. She got into the taxi at the head of the line and gave the black middle-aged driver directions.

  “Bad night,” the driver said, giving her a huge white-toothed smile in the rearview mirror.

  “I’m hoping the night is going to be a lot better than the day was,” she said.

  “Pretty little gal like you, I hope it’s a hot date?”

  “Yes, it is,” she said, grinning back. “In fact, I’m going to marry him.”

  “This guy get lucky or what?”

  “Oh yes.” She leaned back and closed her eyes. When the taxi pulled up in front of Dillon’s red brick house, she was asleep. The driver got out of the cab and walked to the front door. When Savich answered, the driver gave him a big grin.

  “I’ve got a nice little present for you, but she’s asleep in the back of my cab. I guess you’re her hot date, huh? And the guy who’s going to marry her?”

  “She told you that, did she? That’s a really good sign.”

  “Women always tell me everything,” the driver said, walking back to the taxi.

  Savich couldn’t wait to get her inside the house.

  “DILLON?”

  “Yes, it’s me. Go back to sleep, Sherlock. You’re home now. But I’m not going to let you sleep very long. That all right with you?” He leaned down and kissed her nose.

  “Okay,” she said, and bit his earlobe.

  She giggled. He thought it was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard in his life.

  The phone was ringing as he laid her on the bed.

  “She lay on her back, looking over at him, listening to his deep voice, his very short answers. When he punched off, she said, “Have they caught him?”

  Savich shook his head. “No, but it might be really soon. That was Mr. Maitland. A call came through from this woman in southern Ohio claiming to have seen both Marlin and Erasmus in a restaurant off the turnpike. It sounds like it’s for real. They’re going to check. They’ll get back to us when they know one way or the other. Nothing to do now but wait.”

  “Is this the first time both Erasmus and Marlin have been reported being seen together?”

  He nodded as he pulled his navy blue sweater over his head. He smiled at her as he unfastened his jeans.

  Sometime later, she whispered in his mouth, “Please sing to me.”

  His rich baritone filled the air. “You’re my gateway to heaven, all tied up in a bow. Let me at your hinges and I’ll oil them really slow.”

  The bedroom phone rang. He held her close as he rolled to his side. “Savich here.”

  “We think it’s Erasmus and Marlin,” said Jimmy Maitland, more excitement in his voice than Savich had heard in three months. “So it looks like they’re in Ohio. I’ll get back to you when I hear any more.”

  “That’s a relief,” Savich said and slowly hung up the phone. He turned back to her, saw that the sated vague look was long gone now, and there was fear there, haunting fear. “No, no, Sherlock, Mr. Maitland thinks it was Erasmus and Marlin. They’re way off in Ohio someplace, far away from us. It’s okay. They’ll catch them.” Still, the fear didn’t leave her eyes. He said nothing more, just came over her again.

  He didn’t ease his hold on her until he was certain she was asleep. He kissed her temple. He wondered what had happened in San Francisco. Then he wondered if they’d caught Marlin yet and if they’d dispatched him to hell. ***

  SHERLOCK was feeling mellow as she sipped Dillon’s famous home-brewed tea. Morning sunlight poured through the kitchen windows. She was leaning against the refrigerator.

  Dillon took her cup and kissed her until she was ready to jump him. Then he gave it back to her. It took another three long drinks of coffee and a distance of three feet from him before she could function again. He grinned at her.

  When she had her wits together, finally, she told him about her parents, about Douglas. “Douglas was treating my mother like she was his lover. He kissed her, caressed her face, called her by her first name. I’m not wrong about this even though he denied it, denied it quite believably.”

  He nearly dropped his spoon. “You’re kidding me. No? Well, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. When it comes to your family, I’m willing to believe about anything. Do you think it’s possible Douglas was sleeping not only with his wife but also with his wife’s mother?”

  She took a bite of toast, added another dollop of strawberry spread. “I have no idea. Maybe he wanted all the Sherlock women. After all, he wanted to sleep with me too.” She sighed, rubbed her stomach, knew she was going to have to relax or she’d get an ulcer. “It’s as if I know them but they’re strangers to me in the most basic ways. I found out that Belinda’s father, my mother’s first husband—his name is Conal Francis—was released from San Quentin a short time ago.”

  “Interesting. He’s the one your father told you tried to kill him? That he was nuts?”

  “Yes. My father told me that was why Belinda shouldn’t have kids. She had too many crazy genes in her. My father also told me Belinda was already well on her way to being as nuts as her father. I think I’ll call the shrinks at San Quentin and see what they have to say about it.”

  He rose. “Go ahead and call San Quentin. That’s a good idea. You want to ride downtown with me?”

  OLLIE greeted her with a hug and began talking immediately about a string of kidnappings and murders in Missouri. “It’s the same perps, that’s pretty well established. They kidnap a rich couple’s child, get a huge ransom, then kill the kid. Actually, it’s likely that they kill the kid immediately, then string the parents along. There have been three of them, the most recent one in Hannibal, you know, the birthplace of Mark Twain. These folk are real monsters, Sherlock.”

  She took a deep breath. After all, monsters were their business. She understood that, she accepted it, and wanted to get them put away, that or get them on death row. But children. That was more than monstrous. Once they had Marlin and Erasmus, she wanted to concentrate on the kidnappers. No, they were murderers; the kidnapping really didn’t count.

  She went back to her desk and booted up her computer. Dillon had put a lion on her screen, and he roared at her out of the small speakers on either side of the console. She heard two agents shouting at each other. She heard a woman laugh, saw a Coke can go flying past her desk, heard the agent shout his thanks. She heard the hum of the Xerox, someone cursing the fax machine, heard an agent speak in that deep, rich FBI voice on the phone. Everything was back to normal chaos. Only it wasn’t, not for her, at least not yet.

  Marlin Jones was still free. Belinda’s killer, whoever that was, was still out there. She prayed that both Marlin and Erasmus were in Ohio, with the state police getting really close. She hoped the police would take both o
f them out.

  She looked up to see Ollie stretching. “Anything new on Missouri?”

  Ollie shook his head. “Nothing, nada, zippo. But you know, I got this funny feeling in my gut. I know we’re going to get the perps. Despite MAXINE being really stumped on this one, I know it’s going to come to an end soon now.”

  She sighed. “I hope so.” But what she was thinking about was smoke and mirrors. Her life seemed filled with smoke and mirrors. Everyone looked back at her, but their faces weren’t real, and she wondered if they were looking at her or at someone they thought was she. No one seemed as he really was. Except for Dillon.

  “You haven’t called Chico for a karate lesson,” Dillon said as he revved up the engine of his 911 just after six o’clock that evening in the parking garage.

  “Tomorrow. I swear I’ll call this madman of yours tomorrow.”

  “You’ll like Chico. He’s skinny as a lizard and can take out guys twice his size. It will be good training for you.”

  “Hey, can he take you out?”

  “Are you crazy? Naturally not.” He gave her a fat smile. “Chico and I respect each other.”

  “You going to tromp me into the ground tonight?”

  “Sure. Be my pleasure. Let’s swing by your place and pack up some more things for you.” Actually, he wanted all of her things at his house. He never wanted her to move back to her town house, but he held his tongue. It was too soon.

  But it was Sherlock who swung by her own town house, Dillon having gotten a call on his cell. He dropped her off at home for her car, then headed back to headquarters. “An hour, no longer. There’s this senator who wants to stick his nose into the kidnappings in Missouri. I’ve got to give an update.”

  “What about Ollie?”

  “Mr. Maitland couldn’t get hold of him. It’s okay. I’ll see you at the gym in an hour and a half, tops. You be careful.” He kissed her, patted her cheek, and watched her walk to her own car. He watched her lock the car doors, then wave at him.

  The night was seamless black, no stars showing, only a sliver of moon. It was cold. Sherlock turned on the car heater and the radio to a country-western station. She found herself humming to “Mama, Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowboys.”