by Sandra Brown
"Of surviving? He won't. He'll die now or he'll face three counts of murder and die courtesy of this sovereign state. Either way, his goose is cooked."
Berry got up and walked to a window that afforded a view of the lake. The sun was setting. A flock of birds was reflected on the surface of the water. Pines cast long, straight shadows on the pebbled shore. The setting was picturesque and tranquil, exactly as it had been last Friday evening when she and Ben finished their work and, innocently, decided to cook steaks on the grill and celebrate the completion of a yearlong project. The memory caused her to grimace.
She turned to face her parents. Funny that she automatically thought of Caroline and Dodge now as a unit. A pair. Her parents.
"I want to see Oren."
With a decisive thud, Dodge set his glass on the cocktail table at his elbow. "Goddammit."
"What?"
"That's exactly what Ski said you would say. He bet me that's what you would say. I just lost five bucks."
"Whose car is that?"
He retrieved the glass and slammed back the last of the whiskey. "Belongs to the deputy who's guarding Starks's room at the hospital. Ski said I could borrow his car to come here, get cleaned up."
"Well, now that you're clean, you can drive the loaned car back. We'll follow in Mother's."
* * *
Berry was anxious to talk to Ski, or just to see him, if only from a distance.
She was also anxious to see Oren. She desperately wanted this episode of her life concluded, and it wouldn't be completely over and done with until she had acknowledged to Oren the part she'd played in all the egregious things he'd done.
He must have been mentally ill all along, but perhaps she had tipped a precarious balance that had plunged him into insanity. Perhaps if she'd been kinder and more tolerant, his innate impulses would have remained dormant until he died of natural causes at a very old age.
In any case, until she owned up to her culpability, she wouldn't have peace.
If his condition was as critical as Dodge had said, time was running out for her to meet that obligation. Unfortunately, as she was crossing the hospital lobby on her way to the ICU floor, she was intercepted by Ben and Amanda Lofland.
"So that's Ben," Dodge said out the corner of his mouth, his tone indicating he wasn't impressed by what he saw.
"You two go on up," Berry said. "I'll be along."
Reluctantly, Dodge ushered Caroline toward the bank of elevators, leaving Berry to confront the couple alone. Ben was in a wheelchair being pushed by a hospital orderly. He looked pale, drawn, and thin. Amanda was at his side. She was brimming with malice.
Berry said, "Hello, Ben, Amanda."
Speaking over his shoulder, Ben asked the orderly to give them a minute. As soon as he was out of earshot, Amanda launched her attack. "Why did you sic that deputy on me?"
"Ski?"
"Ski?" she repeated in an unflattering imitation of Berry. "You're on a first-name basis with him. No shocker there."
"I don't know what you're talking about, Amanda."
"He was here first thing this morning, questioning me about Sally Buckland.
Questioning me. He found some calls to her on my cell phone. Why would he be investigating my call log if you hadn't poisoned his mind about me?"
Had the subject of Sally's death not been so serious, Berry would have rolled her eyes over Amanda's melodramatic phrasing. "All I ever said about you in connection with Sally was that I wasn't aware that you two knew each other."
"We didn't. But we both knew you. We both knew the treachery you're capable of."
"Let it go, Amanda." Ben sounded weary. Berry figured he'd been listening to her ranting about this for hours. "What does it matter now that Sally is dead and her killer is in custody?"
"So you've heard about Oren?" Berry asked.
"The TV in my room was on," he said. "Hell of a thing, this whole mess. And Sally." He ran his hand over his pasty face. "Jesus."
"You have no idea. It was quite awful, finding her that way. They're thinking that Oren abused and tortured her for hours before he killed her."
"I hope the creep dies," Amanda said. "He almost made me a widow."
"Mrs. Mittmayer wasn't as lucky as you," Berry said quietly.
"Like I said, I hope he dies." She gave Berry a hard look. "Are you here to see him?"
"I want to, yes."
"What for?" Ben asked, looking genuinely flummoxed.
"You know what for, Ben. For the same reason I called him on Thursday afternoon."
Under her meaningful stare, he squirmed in the seat of the wheelchair. "What purpose would it serve to talk to him now?"
"Maybe none. But I still want to say what I feel I must."
Amanda looked impatient and made an event out of checking the time on her wristwatch. The woman really was too self-centered and mean-spirited to deserve Berry's notice.
Addressing Ben, she said, "Good luck with the campaign. It's all yours now."
"He had nothing to do with that."
Amanda was so quick to make the point, Berry was certain the opposite was true. Her expression must have conveyed her feelings, because Ben came in right behind his wife with a denial of responsibility.
"Swear to God, Berry, I never thought Delray would take such a hard stance. Not with you, you of all people."
Berry actually laughed. "Me of all people? The scarlet woman of the company? Isn't that what Amanda implied to them?"
"That's not how it was, Berry. They drew their own conclusions about what went down in the lake house, and why. I swear I ... we ... didn't--"
"Don't work yourself into a lather, Ben. Whatever you or Amanda told them or led them to believe, whatever explanation or apology you're about to sputter now is meaningless to me. You let me take the fall, and that was dishonest and disloyal.
"But I'm not all that broken up over it. I don't want to work for a company that has so little regard for me as to believe the worst without even extending me the courtesy of a defense." She drew herself up. "The portfolio with everything in it, from the first sketches to the final mock-ups, is at the lake house. I'll have it sent to you by courier."
"He doesn't need your largesse," Amanda said. "And you can keep the portfolio. Ben has made copies of everything all along."
Berry looked from Amanda back down to Ben, whose expression bore the imprint of guilt. "Oh. I see." Berry held his tortured gaze for several seconds, then, without shaking hands or even saying good-bye, she walked away.
She'd been outside Oren's ICU for almost an hour when Ski arrived, looking recently showered and dressed in fresh clothing. Upon seeing him, her heart kicked up its pace, but his demeanor was suitably professional, so she curbed the impulse to fling her arms around him and, instead, greeted him with a reserve that was appropriate.
After they'd exchanged hellos, he turned to the deputy sitting in a formed fiberglass chair, who'd been assigned to guard Oren's room. "Do you need a break?"
Either he took the hint or he really did need a break, because he thanked Ski, left his chair, and walked away, leaving them alone.
Berry, speaking quietly, said, "Dodge told me about your heroic efforts to bring Oren in."
He waved off her compliment. "I should have caught him sooner."
"I shouldn't have called him on Thursday. I shouldn't have invited Ben to come here on Friday. I shouldn't have treated Oren so unkindly. His parents and teachers should have recognized his psychotic tendencies." She gave him a wan smile. "The blame extends a long way back, Ski."
She glanced into the ICU, where Oren's vitals were being monitored by softly blipping machines. "They let me go in. There were things I wanted to say to him, and I did." Regretfully, she shook her head. "But I don't think he heard me."
She could feel the weight of Ski's contemplative gaze on her. "Why did you want to talk to him, Berry? Why are you still here?"
"I really can't explain why. I just feel I should be. I
s it macabre of me to stand vigil, waiting for something to happen?"
"It's macabre to have restraints on him." In addition to all the tubes and wires attached to Oren, there were bands around his wrists and ankles that secured him to the bed. "But he killed three people. Ruthlessly. We shouldn't feel sorry for him."
"I don't. Not really. I don't know how I feel, Ski. I'm relieved that he's no longer a threat to me or to anyone else, but my emotions are mixed. I don't know what to think about anything." Her eyes coming back to his, she added helplessly, "About that."
He knew exactly what she was talking about. His voice dropped in volume. "Right.
That. The kiss that rocked my world. I don't know what to think about it, either. I just know that I do. Constantly." Inclining a fraction of an inch closer, he added, "I didn't want to leave you last night."
"I almost came after you."
"You did?"
"I made it as far as the door. I knew you had to go, but I didn't want to be away from you."
The hungry stare they exchanged was interrupted by a commotion at the end of the long corridor. The deputy, returning from his break, was arguing with Lisa Arnold.
"I want to talk to Ski Nyland."
"It's okay," Ski said. The deputy moved aside. The girl's flip-flops made slapping sounds as she walked toward them.
"How are you, Ms. Arnold?" Ski asked politely.
She hooked a hank of overprocessed, raven-colored hair behind her ear, from which several silver rings dangled. "I'm okay. I mean, I guess. You know, I'm still sad over Davis."
"Of course."
Her gaze slid to Berry. Ski made the introductions.
"I know who you are," the girl said. "It started at your house. He shot your boyfriend, too, right?" Before Berry could correct her, she turned away from them and looked into the ICU. For several moments, she stared at Oren. Finally she said, "I saw on TV that you'd caught him. The deputy that's been parked outside my house came up to the door and told me that he was leaving, that there was no reason for him to guard me anymore."
Ski asked, "Is that the man you saw in the motel, who shot Davis Coldare?"
"That's him, all right. The son of a bitch." But her sneer gave way to rising emotion. "I talked Davis into taking me to that motel. If we'd've stayed at the drive-in, he would still be alive."
"You aren't responsible for what happened, so don't blame yourself," Ski said kindly.
She came around and gave Ski a watery, grateful smile. "Well, I just wanted to come and thank you for catching him."
"I had a lot of help."
"And something else? Thanks for being so nice to me the night it happened."
"You're welcome."
"I'm sorry my stepmother was such a bitch."
Ski smiled. "That's okay."
"Don't take it personal. She's a bitch to everybody." She cast one final, malevolent glace at Oren, then said good-bye and headed down the corridor toward the elevator. Dodge and Caroline stepped off as she got on.
Ski's cell phone rang, and he stepped aside to take the call.
"Any change?" Dodge asked Berry as they approached.
"No."
"Waste of time, just standing here, staring at him."
"Probably, but..."
Ski rejoined them, holding the cell phone against his chest. "We've got a situation at the sheriff's office. The man who found the Mittmayers' car--"
"Jesus. That inbred?" Dodge said with distaste.
Ski smiled. "Mr. Mercury is demanding his reward, accusing everyone in the department of trying to cheat him out of it. I hate to bother you with this now, Caroline, but would it be too much of an inconvenience--"
"Of course not," she said, not even letting him finish. "I'm happy to write him a check."
It was decided that they would go together and get that matter taken care of. They immediately departed for the courthouse. Dodge looked at Berry. "Guess that leaves us at loose ends, and, frankly, I think you should cut bait on this guy. The sooner you do, the better off you'll be."
"Perhaps you're right."
"Trust me. I'm hungry. You hungry?"
"I am," she said, just now realizing she couldn't remember when she'd last eaten. She glanced at her watch. "But it's late by Merritt's standards. I don't know what's open."
"I do."
"Hi, Grace."
"Hi, Dodge."
The bartender's smile dimmed a bit when she saw that he had Berry with him. "This is Berry Malone."
"We met once," Berry said, smiling at the other woman.
"You must be awfully relieved that that Starks character has been caught."
"I am."
"Is he still alive?"
"Hanging on by a thread," Dodge said. "Are you serving food this time of night?"
She nodded toward a row of booths along the far wall. "Claim a table. I'll bring menus over. What would you like to drink?"
Dodge ordered a bottled beer. Berry said that sounded good and ordered the same. They sat opposite each other on faux leather benches. The tabletop between them was made of heavily shellacked wood. Providing light was a red glass holder with a flickering candle inside. Grace brought their drinks. After a quick review of the laminated menu, they both ordered cheeseburgers and fries.
Grace returned to the bar. They were alone. Dodge watched Berry take a sip from her bottle of beer. He chuckled.
"What?" she said.
"Nothing."
"You're surprised that I'm drinking beer from the bottle."
That was precisely what he'd found amusing, but he remained noncommittal.
"Mother wouldn't be caught dead," Berry said. "She thinks it's unladylike." She took another drink, watching him down the length of the chilled bottle. When she lowered it to the table, she said quietly, "But you know that, don't you, Dodge?"
He leaned back against the tufted leather and studied her for a moment, knew that she knew. Gruffly, he said, "That's just one of your mother's prissy taboos."
"But you loved her in spite of them."
He reached for his own bottle, but, although his mouth had gone dry, he found he no longer had a thirst for the beer. He rubbed the condensation between his fingers as his gaze stayed fixed on the familiar beer label. "So you know. About me. Us." Although it took all the courage he had, he lifted his eyes to those of his daughter.
She nodded.
"When Caroline finds out, she'll be furious."
"She knows."
"She does? Since when?"
"Last night. I had figured it out. She confirmed it."
"She didn't want you to know."
She gave him an arch look. "Oh no? Then why did she involve you in this?"
Grace brought their burgers. After serving them and asking if they needed anything else, she left them to their meal. Berry wasn't shy. She dug in. Dodge had lost his appetite.
"How'd you guess? I treated you no differently than--"
"It wasn't how you treated me," she said, licking a smear of mustard from the corner of her lips. "It was how you and Mother treated each other. First of all, she's been a nervous wreck. She's never nervous. I'm the one who's high-strung and impatient. In my life, I've never seen her so tightly wound. At first, I thought it was because of the crisis situation. But then I became aware of how she was with you. She was never like that with Daddy."
Dodge's gut was tied in a knot. He craved a cigarette, but not as much as he craved to know how Caroline's behavior toward him was different from what it had been with Jim Malone. He hated himself for asking, but he did. "What was she like with him?"
"They had a very solid marriage. They loved each other. I'm convinced of that. But they were unfailingly reserved and polite. She and Daddy never fussed over each other the way the two of you do. They never fussed at each other the way you do. Their relationship ... well, it didn't spark. I never knew any differently, so I didn't think anything of it until I saw how the two of you are with each other. There's no polite formali
ty."
"We spark?"
She laughed. "Yeah. You do." She was reflective for a moment, then said, "Looking back on Mother's relationship with Daddy, I think she was always trying to ensure his approval of her. She doesn't strive for yours."
"My standards aren't as high as his."
Berry smiled. "No. She knows she has your approval. Unconditionally."
Grace appeared at the end of the booth. "Something the matter with the burger, Dodge?"
"No. Guess I wasn't so hungry after all."
"I'm going on a smoke break in a minute. Want to join me?"
"Check back."
Looking disappointed, she removed their plates. Berry's eyes followed her. When they came back to Dodge, she said, "She likes you."
He shrugged and reached for his beer.
"All women do."
"That's an exaggeration if I ever heard one."
"I don't think so. Mother hinted as much."
"Did she?"
"Was that the problem?" Berry asked.
He looked across at her but said nothing.
"You're popular with the ladies, Dodge. Is that why you didn't marry my mother?"
CHAPTER 24
Houston, Texas, 1979
IF WORK HADN'T SUCKED SO BAD, DODGE'S LIFE WOULD HAVE been perfect.
Roger Campton's family had trundled him off to South America, ostensibly to oversee their oil interests in Venezuela. Good riddance to everyone except the Venezuelans, Dodge thought.
"I hope they know to lock up their daughters," he told Caroline when they read the notice in the business pages of the newspaper.
Her tummy had a bump that he thought was adorable. "I can see you in profile now."
He couldn't keep his hands off the slight protrusion, sometimes to her annoyance.
"Dodge, you're in my way."
"When's it supposed to kick?"
"A while yet."
"It'll feel weird, won't it? Something moving around inside you."
She winked at him. "You've moved around inside me."
"Hmm, talking dirty comes with pregnancy. I like it."
She swatted aside his wandering hands. "The first time I feel the baby move, I promise to let you know. In the meantime, it wants to be fed, and I can't get dinner on the table if you're going to continue feeling me up."
