Night Mist

by Helen R. Myers

  Indecision? That’s Rachel in there.

  Swallowing, he gripped the doorknob and swung it open.

  Brass hit wood. Light spilled into the hall. But there was no sign of Rachel.

  He couldn’t believe it. His brain didn’t want to help him figure it out, either. Acting on pure reflex, he hurried down the hall and threw open the door to her room.

  Empty again.

  No, his heart told him.

  Think, his mind demanded.

  But she wouldn’t have gone downstairs. Not with the bathroom door closed. Open, maybe, to guide her way, but not…

  He swore.

  The bridge. That goddamned bridge. If he could, he would tear it down or blow it up himself.

  He dashed back to his room and snatched up the clock. It was getting close to that time. “Damn,” he muttered, striding to the side window. That’s when he saw the opened drawer.

  As a bitter taste formed in his mouth, he forced himself to go look. It was gone.

  And you believed all you had to worry about was competition from a ghost.

  Joe ran to the window. It was no use. The fog was as thick as the mud pie they served at the café. If she was out there, she had a perfect protection and one helluva head start.

  He couldn’t believe it. She’d actually done it. No wonder she’d paced around here all day like a frantic caged animal. And he’d believed she was sick.

  She’d been counting the hours until she could betray him! Even her lovemaking was probably a sacrifice to the good of the cause.

  Well, she wasn’t going to get away with it, he told himself, snatching up his jeans and dragging them on. Jerking open another drawer, he pulled out a T-shirt. Once she found out she didn’t have—

  Joe froze. In the next instant, he lunged for the closet, switched on the closet light and dropped to the right corner where he moved his duffel bag out of the way. Digging his knife out of a rear pocket, he lifted two boards that he’d found worked loose when he’d first moved in.

  There was the real tape, safe and sound. So she hadn’t known he’d set up a ruse. At least he could be grateful for that, he thought, struggling for crumbs. But her boss wouldn’t be thrilled when he played what she brought him and discovered it was nothing more than the soap opera Oliver’s wife had taped for herself while at her office job.

  Which meant they would be coming to get him soon.

  He had to get away.

  Listen to yourself, man. You’re that willing to believe everything you shared with her was a lie?

  What else could explain what was going on?

  With tape in hand, Joe went to retrieve his gun.

  Think about what she’d said earlier. Think about what you said. You’ve both been taking risks on faith all along. She’s no more out to cut your throat than you’d be able to pull the trigger on her if it came down to it.

  He groaned, thinking about what that could mean. Could she be risking her life for him?

  It would never work. They would kill her for the pure pleasure of it, just as they would kill him.

  “Sweet Jesus, Rachel,” he muttered, and scrambled for his athletic shoes.

  He ran down the hall and took the stairs by storm, not giving a damn who he disturbed or offended. Since he had no idea how much of a head start she had on him, he couldn’t afford to waste any more time.

  At the base of the stairwell he nearly ran headlong into Jewel. The old dragon looked even more spooky without her turban. Her hair was white. Loose, it flowed like fine wires past her shoulders, floating up and down with the slightest move as if live electrical currents were flowing through it.

  “Call the police,” he demanded.

  “You leave her be,” she replied, crossing her arms. “It’s good she’s got herself out of this house and away from you. And if you don’t leave her alone, the only thing the police are gonna be called for is to put you away where you won’t be doing nobody no more harm.”

  “I don’t give a damn why you call them, lady, just do it! Tell them to get to—” Where, damn it, where? “—to the bridge,” he said, not sure why the words came out of his mouth since he’d been thinking elsewhere. “Tell them there’s a riot or something going on. Hell, I don’t care what you tell them, but get them up there!”

  “Why?”

  That brought him up short. He spun around, ready to read her the riot act for not being able to see the obvious.

  Why should she? You’re not doing so great yourself.

  “Because I love her!”

  With that, Joe raced out the front door, his gun in the waistband of his jeans and the tape in his bandaged hand.

  Outside, the fog was every bit as thick as it had seemed from indoors. The densest yet. Joe could barely see ten feet in front of him, let alone the bridge. Only a faint glow from buildings and security lights gave him a hint as to where he was going.

  Not giving a damn, he charged down the driveway and up the dirt road toward the main street, wanting badly to call out to Rachel in the hopes that she might stop. But he couldn’t risk it. There was always the chance that he was already too late, that she wasn’t alone. Worst of all, what if, like last time, he found he couldn’t get onto the bridge?

  He was about to start up the incline when lights made him drop to the ground. A car eased past him. He was able to make out only a few details, but they were enough. It was Maddox.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  “Hello? Is anyone there?” Rachel called cautiously as she approached the center of the bridge.

  She glanced back over her shoulder, toward the direction she’d come, but didn’t see or hear anything. She hoped that meant she’d been imagining things and that Joe wasn’t following her…or anyone else for that matter.

  There was no sign of Wade Maddox, but then she’d said two o’clock and there were still a few minutes to go. It had been a crazy hour to insist on—Maddox had been very annoyed—but she’d held firm. She was glad, because she was hoping to see her other Joe one more time, to tell him that she finally understood and what she planned to do.

  Her other Joe.

  Realizing how she’d formed the thought made her wince.

  Maybe after tonight it wouldn’t matter so much that she’d never completely managed to reconcile their separate identities in her own mind. All that she needed to know was that she’d found justice for the two identities, so the Joe who was doomed to this bridge wouldn’t have to suffer anymore…and so his living counterpart wouldn’t have to die.

  God, just thinking about it all got her confused.

  “Rachel.”

  The voice was the most ephemeral of whispers. It didn’t matter, though; she would have recognized it anywhere.

  “Joe!” She spun around. “Where are you?”

  She felt a presence; she was able to distinguish that for certain, but no more because she also became aware of a vehicle approaching. Squinting, she saw twin lights on some dark form easing up onto the bridge like a creature of prey. Was this it? she wondered, stepping out into the roadway and protecting her eyes from the glare with the videotape.

  It stopped a few yards away from her, close enough for her to recognize it, but not the two people inside. However, she could guess—Wade Maddox and his sidekick had arrived for their appointment.

  The driver didn’t turn off the engine. Rachel didn’t know if that was good or bad. The passenger door opened, saving her from having to worry about it, and Maddox stepped out. She squared her shoulders, determined not to let him know how frightened she felt.

  “Well, well,” he said, his drawl laced with humor and sarcasm. “Dr. Gentry, you are one surprise after another.”

  “Mr. Maddox. Thank you for meeting me.”

  “Oh, you’re very, very welcome.”

  Because of the headlights, she couldn’t see his face. It put her at a disadvantage. There were undertones in his voice that made her increasingly nervous. “Before I hand this over to you, may I ask you a quest
ion?”

  “Only if you’ll let me ask you one.”

  He was laughing at her again. It annoyed her, but she suspected that was the idea…and that he didn’t expect her to do much in retaliation. It made sense, since she figured both he and his partner were carrying a gun. So far they hadn’t seen fit to show any weapon, and she preferred to take that as a good sign—until the thought came to her that they might want more than the tape.

  “I wanted a reassurance, actually,” she told him. “Do you mean to keep your promise about dropping the matter of Detective Becket?”

  Maddox lifted boxy shoulders in a negligent shrug. “If what you’re holding proves to be authentic, then I don’t see why not, ma’am.”

  “You can take my word for it that it is.”

  “Well, I’d like to do so, ma’am—Rachel—but this is a bit more complicated than what you and I would prefer.”

  Rachel felt a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. “Would you care to expand on that, Mr. Maddox?”

  “Now don’t get all bent out of shape. I’m merely talking about what would be fair for both parties.”

  Fair. She was getting fed up with that word. “And exactly what is it you want?”

  “To view the tape. If it’s legitimate, we’ve got a deal.”

  “How do you propose we do that?”

  “It’s quite simple. You come with us to the senator’s home, and we’ll check things out there. If everything’s in order, we’ll bring you straight back here.”

  Back to explain to a man who wouldn’t want to listen, she thought grimly, but replied, “Of course it’s in order.”

  “Then there’s no problem.” He stepped aside and opened the back door of the car.

  Rachel knew she was way out of her depth here. She didn’t have a clue as to what to do, what risks were worth taking, but she also didn’t think she needed to have a gold shield to sense she was in danger. “I’d like to wait here, Mr. Maddox.”

  “Uh-huh…well, that’s not how it works.”

  His voice took on an edge she thought was as sharp as the toothy smile she remembered. It made her all the more certain that she wasn’t going to get into his car. “You don’t understand,” she said, raising her voice while also stalling for time and trying to think. “I’m not a part of whatever it is this is all about. I really don’t know the details.”

  “Why do I find that hard to believe?”

  “I only know you want this,” she said holding out the tape. “And you’re welcome to it, but that’s all. I’ve never viewed it myself. I’m not involved with whatever it is that your argument with Detective Becket is about.”

  “Good old Becket…You know, you didn’t mention where he was.”

  Rachel’s tense leg muscles started to tremble. Where, she wondered with no small dread, was one of those damned eighteen-wheelers when you needed one? “I don’t know.”

  Wade Maddox hung his head and laughed dryly. “Rachel, Rachel, you should’ve stuck to medicine, honey. This definitely isn’t your area of expertise.”

  “Which is why I’ll be extremely grateful if you’ll take this and go.”

  He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he took a few steps toward her and, drawing his gun, aimed it at her heart. “Get in the car,” he replied, all humor drained from his voice. “Now.”

  She thought she’d experienced fear before, like when Joe bullied her in the bathroom that first night—was it only three days ago?—and then the day after at the garage, and later when he cornered her in his room. This, she suddenly realized, was much worse.

  But could she give up? “I—” she swallowed “—I don’t think you’ll use that.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  “I told someone where I was going.”

  “No, you didn’t. Now get in the car, because I’m tired of messing with you. And if you don’t move, I’m going to aim at your kneecap to make it hurt more. Then I’m going to throw you over the side of this damned bridge and let the snakes and gators have you. There’s not much meat on your bones, but I don’t reckon they’re fussy, do you?”

  “Try that and the tape comes with me,” she replied, amazed she could get the words out. “In which case, you’ll never know if it’ll be found by anyone or not.”

  “Don’t play chicken with me, lady,” he growled, taking low aim. “I don’t scare.”

  There was a strange shift in the wind. It swirled the fog, creating shapes and shadows around them. And then Rachel heard it, the two very different sounds, as different as a whisper was from a crack of thunder.

  “Rachel…”

  Two sounds, yet one voice.

  Joe.

  And Joe.

  She stepped aside and tried to see behind Maddox, who’d spun around, having apparently heard it, too. Some yards away the fog became a figure—legs, arms, head, but transparent…and a few more yards back, the mist parted and he was there again solid, bold and very much alive.

  As they both charged Maddox, the more vivid Joe gained ground on his vaguer image, came closer, and closer. Could he see him? Rachel wondered, frozen in awe and terror. What would happen if he caught up with him?

  Abruptly, she knew. As Wade Maddox raised his gun and took aim, she knew with a terrible clarity that had her screaming in protest.

  “No!”

  Oh, God, what had she done? How could she not have seen it sooner? With her common sense and logic, she’d still failed to see what was before her eyes.

  “There’s only what is and what will be.”

  “You can’t help being you.”

  “He won’t be able to resist you, Rachel.”

  “You’ve got to understand your own life lessons.”

  She’d interfered. Insisted on getting involved where she had no place. Worse, she’d forced Joe to change his destiny. She’d taken his choices away from him and had replaced them with her own.

  And the price for all that was death. His.

  Full clarity in the space of a heartbeat.

  No, she thought, lurching forward. Not if she could help it.

  It all happened like a film stuck in slow motion. She threw herself at Wade Maddox to ruin his aim just as the two Joes met. Merged. The instant it happened, she saw the more vivid of the two faces register shock and realization.

  Then she was caught up in her own survival. Maddox was far too big for her, and he threw her off him as though she were nothing more than a jacket he’d shrugged off.

  She hit the street, a sharp pain streaking up her arm, momentarily blinding her. At the same instant a shot rang out.

  She stopped breathing. Was it only wishful thinking that made her believe she’d seen Joe throw himself to the right at the moment Maddox fired? There was too much light flashing in front of her eyes, but the fog remained to distort and confuse.

  Another shot blasted the night’s stunned silence. This time Rachel screamed.

  Wade Maddox reared backward, past her, and crashed to the street.

  His driver stared at the still body before glancing dazedly at Rachel. She waited for him to pull a gun and kill her. Instead he floored the accelerator. The sedan took off across the bridge with both the driver and passenger doors hanging wide open.

  The sound of sirens seemed wishful thinking at first. But suddenly there were lights, too, overhead red and blue lights identifying two squad cars. The vehicles swerved, shutting off the sedan’s escape.

  The car’s brakes screeched, creating smoke that rose to meet the mist, and the car slid sideways for a length before coming to a halt.

  And then there was silence. It was over.

  Out of necessity rather than thought, Rachel took a shaky breath. Because he was so close, she forced herself to glance at Wade Maddox’s still body. He was dead, his eyes wide and staring up into the night, the expression of disbelief frozen forever on his face.

  Having seen enough, she struggled to her knees. She needed to get to Joe. She didn’t know if she could bea
r to go through with it again, but maybe, she thought, maybe this time she could help him.

  To her amazement, he reached her first.

  She stared up at him in mute wonder. He stood straddle-legged before her, chest heaving from belabored breaths, his face an unreadable mask in the blue and red lights. As he had been on the previous days, he was dressed in the white T-shirt and the jeans. But one thing was different—there was no blood.

  “You’re not shot,” she murmured inanely.

  “No. Not for lack of trying. I guess the fog messed up his aim. And you. If you hadn’t screamed…jumped him…” He looked away. “I don’t know.”

  Was that what made a difference? Did she dare believe it? What did it matter except that he was alive. Alive. She could bear anything now, even his disgust with her for being willing to betray him, and to let him walk away.

  But he didn’t walk away. He fixed his gaze on her again. “You’ve got a lot of explaining to do.”

  She nodded, tried to get to her feet, but found her legs wouldn’t hold her. Exhausted, she sat back on her heels. “I know. Believe me, I know. But if it’s any consolation, I’m sorry if I made you think I was—”

  “You did,” he confirmed, his curt reply full of bitterness.

  She couldn’t bring herself to look at him, afraid to see the revulsion come. “I didn’t know what else to do. I thought your life was worth more than that tape, that maybe later you could figure out a way to expose Senator Garth without endangering your own life. I was being selfish.”

  “Yeah.”

  “No one has the right to interfere in a decision as important as this one was to you.”

  “No.”

  This was going to be even harder than she’d expected. Pent-up tears made talking difficult. “I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to prosecute me or something yourself.”

  “The thought of some form of violence crossed my mind,” he said, sounding too agreeable. “But then I thought about what Maddox would do to you once he found out you didn’t have what you thought you’d had.”

  Confused, Rachel shot a look upward. “What?”

  “That tape’s a fake placed to fool anyone snooping around in my room. The real one was better hidden. Realizing that you didn’t know that and how angry it would have made Maddox made me sick to my stomach, Rachel.” Joe dropped to his knees before her. “Do you think I would have let him touch you?”