No Escape

by Meredith Fletcher

  Breathing hurt. Moving hurt. But Heath leaned back in the seat and kicked the windshield out of the car, then turned around and crawled out after it. He almost fell when he stepped off the front of the car, but he retained his balance and flipped the revolver open, ejecting the four spent shells and replacing them with fresh rounds. He snapped the cylinder closed with a flick of his wrist and moved on into the house. He didn’t know where Lauren was, but the need to find her consumed him.

  He started moving toward the stairs, then heard a shot from the right. “Lauren!”

  * * *

  The only thing that held the fear at bay inside Lauren was the knowledge that her sister’s murderer stood in front of her. Incredulous, she’d watched Gibson throw the knife with deadly accuracy, but by that time her fingers were already closing around the fireplace poker.

  When Gibson went after the fallen bodyguard’s pistol, Lauren had gone after him. She ignored the reluctance she felt for what she was about to do and instead stoked her rage over losing her sister. Her hands curled around the poker.

  Gibson lifted the pistol and turned around, and Lauren swung the poker off her shoulder in the flat arc that her adoptive father had spent time teaching her for softball. The poker caught Gibson alongside his jaw, and bone cracked loud enough to hear in between the frantic bleats of the security alarms.

  Stumbling to the side, Gibson tried to bring up the pistol again. Stepping forward as though she was meeting a fastball pitch, Lauren swung once more, only catching Gibson on the arm that he instinctively raised to defend himself. The blow drove him to the side and down to the ground.

  Lauren moved toward him and raised the poker over her head, intending to bring her weapon down on Gibson’s skull. He looked up at her, his face streaming blood. All she had to do was swing and he would go away forever. She knew that.

  But she also knew that wouldn’t bring Megan back. Nothing would bring Megan back.

  Screaming in frustration, Lauren crashed the poker through the diorama of Houdini exposing the fake spiritualist.

  “You should have killed him. You know you wanted to. At least you would have had that.”

  Drawn by the wheezing voice, Lauren turned around to discover Roylston once more on his feet. The knife was still in his neck. He hadn’t removed it. And he had another pistol in his hand. He waved the weapon at Gibson. “Go ahead. Bust him up like a piñata. If I do it, it won’t mean as much to me. Just the end of a long, tiring job. But you? You’ll get something out of it. He tried to kill you.”

  “He killed my sister. He killed Megan.”

  Frantically, Gibson shook his head in agony. Blood dripped to the floor. He pointed at Roylston.

  “Megan Taylor? The woman drowned down here?”

  “Yes.”

  Roylston chuckled despite the pain he was in. “No. That was me. This idiot tried to kill her that night, but she fought him off and got away. It was just one more case of me having to clean up his mess. Then he sent that White Rabbit card to the police. Claiming his kill. Feeding his vanity.” He swallowed with effort and chuckled again. “That’s funny. You coming down here, taking him on—bringing him to this, really, and it was for something that he couldn’t even do right.”

  Gibson tried to get to his feet.

  “No, you just stay where you are, you sick psychopath. I’m going to let Mistress Tereza have one more—”

  Gunfire erupted somewhere in the house.

  Roylston glanced back over his shoulder. Seizing her chance, with her sister’s killer once more in front of her, Lauren raised the poker and raced at the bodyguard. Some sixth sense must have warned him of her approach, though, because she knew he didn’t hear her. When she swung, he turned around and caught the poker in his left hand as he lifted the pistol to point at her face.

  * * *

  Heath zeroed in on the sound of the gunshot and came up on Roylston from behind. Over his shoulder, Heath spotted Lauren standing in front of the man, almost dwarfed by his bulk. Roylston was still holding on to the poker that Lauren had obviously swung.

  Another gunshot boomed inside the room, and this time Roylston staggered back and sat down on the floor. Then he fell backward, and the thousand yard stare in his eyes revealed that he was dead.

  Lauren turned, still not seeing Heath, and looked back into the room. There, kneeling on the floor, Gibson struggled to get to his feet. His jaw hung strangely, but he pointed a pistol at Lauren, and his intentions were clear.

  Unable to get Lauren clear of the situation, Heath stepped into the library with both hands on the .357. “Drop the weapon, Gibson.” Heath didn’t want to risk the man accidentally discharging his weapon by shooting him. “Only chance you’re going to get. Otherwise I make you disappear.”

  Gibson blinked to focus on Heath, then nodded and slowly lowered the pistol, leaving it on the floor and lacing his fingers behind his head.

  Heath reached down and untied Roylston’s bloody tie, surprised to find the knife lodged in the side of his neck, then used it to tie Gibson’s hands behind his back. He glanced up at Lauren, who looked as if she was ready to fall down.

  “You okay? You hurt?”

  She shook her head. “No. I’m fine.” Studying him with concern, she crossed over to him and touched his face. “You’re bleeding.”

  “I’m okay.”

  “You don’t look okay.”

  “It’s been a long day.” Holding the pistol to the back of Gibson’s head, his knee still firmly planted in his quarry’s back, Heath reached out his free arm and held Lauren tight. “I’m really glad you’re alive.”

  “Me, too.” She leaned down and kissed his bruised lips.

  Sirens screamed in the distance. Lauren pulled back.

  Heath grinned. “That will be Inspector Myton. We’re going to have a lot of explaining to do.”

  * * *

  It was a lot of explaining. Hours passed by while Lauren sat in an interview room and talked with Inspector Myton. She had told him, then two successive investigators, an edited version of what had happened at Gibson’s villa. They had agreed to leave out Sisco’s kidnapping and the encounter at Heath’s hotel. If the inspector wanted to pursue those events, he’d have to do it without their help.

  “Well, Miss Cooper, it certainly is a most interesting—and most curious—story you and Detective Sawyer have to tell.” Inspector Myton once more sat on the opposite side of the table in the interview room.

  Lauren sipped her water and didn’t say anything.

  “I must admit, there are parts of your stories that bother me. Missing pieces, mostly.” The inspector smiled. “But I am willing to let many of them go at this point. After all, the nefarious White Rabbit serial killer was brought in on my watch, was he not?”

  * * *

  The goodbye at the airport was hard. Lauren held on to Heath as her flight to Chicago boarded. He would be returning to Atlanta on his flight within the hour.

  She’d never felt a person who completed her more than Heath Sawyer outside of her family. She didn’t want to let go of that feeling. But the murders of Megan and Janet had been the only things holding them together. Freed from the shadow of the White Rabbit Killer, both of them could go back to their very separate lives.

  Lauren forced herself to be neutral, to not think about the end of everything and to concentrate on the good they had done. As Heath had said, there was no telling how many lives they had saved. She cleared her throat to speak. “So how much trouble are you going to be in back in Atlanta?”

  Heath shook his head. “I went way over the line. I don’t know. The captain doesn’t like problems, and Gibson’s testimony about his father’s security people are going to bring his father down, too. That guy’s in tight with several government agencies.” He frowned. “It’s going to end up being a big deal. That’s not my fault, but the captain’s gonna blame me for it to a degree. It’s how he is.” He looked at her. “What about you? Are you going to be okay?”
<
br />   “Yes.” Lauren took a breath. “It’s not going to be the same without Megan, but Mom and I will get through it. We got through losing Dad, too. You just don’t forget, you know?”

  “I know.”

  The airline representative made the last call for the flight to Chicago.

  Lauren reached down for her carry-on. “I’ve got to go.”

  Heath nodded. “Have a safe flight, Lauren.” He stepped forward and kissed her lightly on the lips. She wanted to hold on to him, but she couldn’t and she knew it. Giving in to that weakness here would be hard because she knew she had to get back to take care of her mother.

  And Heath had his own life.

  He let her go, and she turned around and walked toward the entrance to the boarding tunnel. She didn’t look back because she didn’t want him to see the tears in her eyes. Leaving was hard enough without both of them being miserable.

  Epilogue

  “Ladies and gentlemen, late from her last showing in Kingston, Jamaica, may I present the lovely and mysterious Mistress Tereza!” Warren Morganstern’s announcer’s voice was strong and loud, carrying over the PA system in the small room in the magic shop.

  Once Lauren had returned home, Morganstern had insisted on hosting a show for her. They had spent the past two weeks getting everything ready, and even though she’d done every trick on the slate hundreds of times and the show was primarily invitation-only to a select audience, Lauren still felt nervous.

  She hadn’t ever done a real show before, only bits and pieces as interludes and warm-ups for real showmen. She launched into the table magic first, doing old tricks with occasional little personal flares that brought oohs and ahhs from the audience.

  Her mother had a front-row seat and looked better than she had looked in months. The doctors had said she was in full remission. Her mom told her that she believed Megan had reached back and taken the cancer from her as a final gift.

  Lauren didn’t know what to believe, but she was glad to have her mom healthy.

  One of the finales of the act was the disappearing cabinet. It was an old trick, too, but she’d always enjoyed it.

  “Ladies and gentlemen.” Morganstern was really laying it on as stage hands brought the seven-foot tall cabinet onto the stage. “As you can see, this is a simple box. A plain wooden construction of humble origins. But Mistress Tereza is going to make magical history here tonight for your viewing pleasure as she disappears from this very box.”

  A drumroll sounded as the box came to a stop in center stage, and that surprised Lauren because they’d never discussed that. Still, clad in her black outfit, she walked to the box and bowed, then she opened the door to show the audience that it was empty.

  Only it wasn’t.

  Heath stood inside dressed in a tuxedo and top hat, and looking more handsome than she’d ever seen him. He winked at her, then stepped from the box toward her holding a magic wand. She stood there, not knowing what to do.

  Then, with a flourish, Heath waved the wand and it turned into a bouquet of flowers. He took her into his arms and kissed her long and hard, and the sizzle of their magic spun through her body. When he drew back, she was breathless.

  The crowd hooted and hollered, and from their reactions, Lauren knew Morganstern had roped them all in on the trick. Even her mother, who was clapping in delight.

  “I wanted to let you know that I had a little magic of my own.” Heath grinned down at her.

  She smiled back. “You always have, mister.”

  “What would you say if I told you Chicago’s finest is looking for a detective?”

  Lauren repressed a smile with real effort. “Atlanta is willing to let you go?”

  “It’s not up to them, and they don’t have the same benefits package as this city.”

  “Chicago’s always been one of my favorites.”

  “We’ll have to talk then. Until then, I hear you’re going to disappear in this box.” With theatrical aplomb that was only a little awkward but endearingly so, Heath waved to the waiting box.

  “I am. But only for a little while.” Lauren stepped into the box and started to close the door, then she opened it, reached back for Heath and pulled him inside with her. “I’m not letting you out of my sight tonight.”

  The audience rolled with laughter, evidently hearing everything over the PA pickup.

  Heath held her tightly. “I’ve never really disappeared before.”

  “It’s easy. I’ll teach you how.” Lauren leaned in and kissed him, then closed the door.

  And they disappeared.

  * * * * *

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  Chapter 1

  The bright sun felt warm on his skin. If he’d been here for no reason other than a desire to enjoy the weather, Mac Riordan would have stopped and turned his face up to let the bright rays try to heat blood that these days always seemed chilled. Instead, he glanced around while keeping his quarry in sight, taking in the lush greenness of the park crowded with citizens enjoying the early spring air.

  He couldn’t believe the hunter’s rush he felt at this planned-for encounter. Finally, after all this time, he’d meet the woman who had, inadvertently or not, stolen everything he had left to live for.

  He’d planned this carefully, just happened to take a stroll along the tree-lined, paved walking path when the very woman he’d come to town to find strode past him on her daily walk—Emily Gilley. He’d been watching her for a week, after all, and figured an accidental meeting in the park would be a great way to meet her.

  True, if he wanted this to appear unintentional, keeping up with her confident pace without looking as though he was stalking her might prove difficult, though not impossible.

  He doubted she’d find him suspicious. From what he’d heard about the east Texas town of Anniversary, everyone was friendly and trusting and looked out for each other. If this was true, then Emily Gilley would have no reason to worry about a friendly stranger.

  He allowed himself the slightest of grim smiles. If only she knew.

  So far, he’d been careful. After all, he’d only been in town for three weeks. It was just long enough to establish his brand-new trucking business and to put out a few feelers about her, the woman he’d spent several years trying to locate: Emily Gilley, twenty-nine-year-old widow of one of the most notorious drug dealers on the Eastern Seaboard. She’d changed her name, taking back her mother’s maiden name Gilley, and altered both the cut and the color of her hair, all to help her disappear. But for someone with the far-flung resources to which he had access, finding her had been a matter of time and a tenacious effort. He was fortunate to still have a lot of the tools from his law enforcement days at his disposal.

  Her long, blond locks were now dark, short and spiky. Instead of designer fashions, she wore clothing that looked off the rack at a big bin department store. She’d gone from a glamorous life in Manhattan to this: a tiny lakefront community ninety miles east of Dallas.

  As he hurried around a bend at the end of the trail, trying not to appear in too much of a rush, he nearly ran into her. She’d stopped at the weathered wooden bench that marked the entrance to the paved parking lot of Sue’s Catfish Hut, which was crowded with lunchtime patrons.

  She was stopped and turned to
face him, apparently willing to wait for him to catch up.

  This was going even better than he’d hoped, he thought with some satisfaction. And then he got a look at her annoyed expression.

  Hands on her hips, she glared at him, her brown eyes full of anger mixed with only the barest hint of fear. “What do you want? Stop following me! If you’re trying to creep me out, you’re succeeding admirably.”

  He dipped his chin, sending her an abashed smile he hoped she’d find reassuring. “My apologies. I had no idea this was a private trail.”

  Instead of growing flustered, she shook her head, sending her shaggy spiked hair rippling. “It’s not. But I walk here every day on my lunch break, and I know almost everyone in town. Every time I look up, you’re right behind me. You never pass me or fall back. And while this is the first time I’ve seen you here, you have to understand how such behavior can make a woman feel threatened.”

  “Threatened? Interesting choice of words.” He crossed his arms. “I’m new here, and I mean you no harm. I wasn’t aware being a newcomer and taking a walk were crimes.”

  Narrowing her eyes, she studied him, apparently not buying his too-easy, confident patter. In his experience, overly suspicious or outright paranoid people usually had something to hide. But then again, she had a point. He was a stranger who was following her, and her former husband had been a drug dealer. No doubt, looking over her shoulder had been deeply ingrained in her psyche. She’d be foolish not to worry. And one thing he’d learned about Emily Gilley, formerly Cavell, was that she was anything but stupid.

  Finally, she took a deep breath, exhaling it slowly.

  “Look,” she said, her tone reasonable this time rather than furious, “you’ve been following me way too closely. What matters is that you’ve made me very uncomfortable.” Swallowing hard, she studied him, her caramel gaze unflinching. “And even though this is a small town, one can’t be too careful.”

  It was especially true for a woman like her, with so many secrets to hide.