Sara's Song

by Fern Michaels

  He could get out of this. He really could. All he had to do was open the car door and get out. The restaurant would call him a cab. Until now the only thing he was guilty of was having sex with a woman young enough to be his daughter. There was no statute on the books that said a judge couldn’t have sex with a young woman who knew her way around the world. He hadn’t said aloud that he had the tape Sara gave him. He might be guilty in his thoughts and his intentions, but that was all he was guilty of. The hard mound inside his trousers was softer than jelly now. He had to do something, say something to make this all go away. In his gut he knew it wouldn’t go away. Stall. He had to stall for time.

  “Ronnie? Sweet love, say something.” Another time, another place, her purring voice would have had him climbing the walls. A time or two he’d thought he’d been peeled off the ceiling. “You have the tape. Sara told me so herself. I think it’s wonderful that you called me as soon as you realized what you had in your possession. Think about it, lover. We can travel the world. The money will roll in forever. You won’t have to go back to the bench ever again. Just think what you can do for your kids with your share. You said Cissie was having a hard time making ends meet even with your help. Children need so much. You’re going to want your grandchildren to have the best possible education. Now you can buy your grandson that Cherokee he’s been wanting so badly. You can pay for his insurance. Neither one of us will ever have to balance a checkbook again. We’ll be together, just you and me, twenty-four hours a day. Forever and ever.”

  The judge finally found his voice. “Attempted murder is not something to take lightly. Sara is not a fool. She’ll put two and two together, and she’ll come up with four. She came to me because she trusted me. I cannot betray that trust. In my wildest dreams I never thought you capable of such a wicked thing. How could you, Sandi?”

  “Listen to yourself, Ronnie. How could I? You were considering keeping the song for personal gain. That gain included me. People kill for a few lousy dollars. The end result is the same. Someone gets richer and someone gets poorer. Sara is alive. I didn’t kill her, so I am not a murderer. Look at it this way. Dallas Lord is dead. All his assests go to his brother Adam Lord, who is incredibly wealthy in his own right. He could live ten lifetimes and never touch his principal. This song will just add another couple of lifetimes to his list. Dallas meant the song for me. Sara came along at the wrong time and stole what was rightfully mine. Do you care to dispute that, lover?”

  “It doesn’t change the fact that you tried to kill Sara Killian, a woman dedicated to saving lives. Don’t mix apples and oranges. I want you to stop it, Sandi. I will not be an accessory to murder. I might be many things, but a murderer I am not.”

  “Does that mean you want out? Are you saying you’re willing to give it all up? All we have to do is go up to Alpine Forest and make sure Sara has an accident. I know you sent her there. You see, lover, I know you so well. You probably told her to go there and lie low until this all blows over. You wanted time to talk to me, to plan on a way to get away with it so that no trail ever led back to you. I’ll do it. You won’t have to get your hands dirty. You weren’t listening to me, lover. Sara didn’t recognize me. She thinks I was one of Adam Lord’s hired thugs. She’s blaming all of this on him. I covered my ass, Ronnie. Are you saying you’re having second thoughts?”

  “As well as third and fourth thoughts. This is out of my league, Sandi. Yes, for a few minutes my greed and passion got in the way. I regret that now.”

  “Where is she, Ronnie?”

  “Now, Sandi, how would I know where she is?”

  “I’m one step ahead of you, lover. I know you told her to go to your cabin in Alpine Forest. All I have to do is look at your face to know its true. You sent her to the same cabin you took me to. Do you remember all those wonderful weekends we spent there and how happy we were? It can be that way again, lover. Just you and me and all that lovely money.”

  “There has to be a better way. I will not be a party to taking a life.”

  “Just for fun, what kind of scenario did you come up with? Were you going to say someone broke into your safe? In the courthouse, for God’s sake. That’s just too funny for words. Or, were you going to take the tape home and say someone broke into the house and ransacked it? Then what were you going to do? Were you planning on heading for some banana republic where you would be safe? What? I need to know, lover. If you have a better plan than mine, I want to hear it.”

  “I didn’t get that far in my thinking. I hate to admit my thoughts didn’t go beyond wanting to tell you I had the song. There is something else, too. All day today I had the feeling someone was watching me. Maybe the brother hired a private detective to spy on you and that led him to me. Don’t you see, this is getting out of hand.”

  Sandi’s face grew thoughtful. “It’s funny you should say that. I’ve had that feeling a lot lately. I hear steps following me, I turn, and no one is there. I think it’s Adam Lord or that guy he brought with him. It’s just a feeling. Chalk it up to guilt on both our parts. So, lover, what is our bottom line here? Think before you answer and give some thought to what it would be like to have it all the way the Adam Lords of this world have it all. We need to come to a decision. If we’re going to go to Alpine Forest, we have to dress warmly. We’ll need a four-wheel-drive vehicle. I can borrow one, so that’s no problem. You come with me while I get a change of clothes and I’ll drive us to Brentwood so you can change your clothes.”

  “If I don’t agree?”

  “Then you’re a fool.”

  “Then I guess I’m a fool. If anything happens to Sara Killian, I’ll have to tell the authorities what I know.”

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. What I told you was privileged and confidential. You cannot betray my trust. Give me the tape, lover. I know you have it in your pocket. You’ve been clutching at it all evening.”

  “I can’t do that, Sandi. Don’t do something you’ll regret for the rest of your life.” He saw the gun in her hand, saw how rock-steady it was. He thought about his dead wife Myrna and his daughter Cissie at home decorating the tree with the kids. Young Jack would have to wait another year or so for the Cherokee. Maybe he could find a used one that looked good. Then he thought about his son Mitch. His plane, if it was on time, would land at LAX in a few hours. Home for Christmas. Betsy would arrive in the morning with her newest boyfriend, the one she said was finally “it.” The one she was dying for him to meet.

  “Give it to me, Ronnie. I won’t ask again.”

  He wanted to see Cissie, the grandkids, Mitch, Betsy and the “it,” so he handed Sandi the tape. “What are you going to do, Sandi?”

  “Are we still on privilege and confidentiality?”

  “Unfortunately, yes,” he lied, going along with her ignorance in hopes of surviving the nightmare.

  “Then I’m going to take care of business. This is your last chance. Want to come along?”

  He opened the door and stepped out of the car. He wanted to meet “it” more than anything in his life, wanted to go on the hunt for a used Cherokee. Tomorrow he wanted to go to the cemetery, the cemetery he hadn’t gone to for years to beg Myrna’s forgiveness. Like a granite tombstone was really going to give him absolution. He took another step backward and then another. He knew what she was going to do before she did it. He felt the pain before the bullet struck him on the side of the head. And then he felt nothing.

  “I gave you every chance in the book, lover. Because you were so kind to me during our time together, I’m going to send your grandson a brand-new Jeep Cherokee. A bright red one. Anonymously. I’ll even send Cissie a generous check, anonymously. By the way, I didn’t buy any outfits today,” Sandi shouted before she rolled up the window.

  It was amazing, Sandi thought as she drove out of the parking lot, that not one person came out of the restaurant to investigate the shot. The hard-driving rain and the sporadic thunderbolts probably accounted for the lack of interest on t
he part of the restaurant’s customers. No vehicles had even entered the lot. A very slow night by all indications. She blew on the barrel of the gun the way she’d seen the actors do in the movies.

  She had things to do and places to go. But first she had to return the vehicle she was driving and borrow Jim’s Rover again. It was gassed and ready to go. If her luck held, she could be in Alpine Forest by midnight. The Rover, according to the commercials, could take her anywhere, despite the weather and terrain. Sara would be asleep. It was all so perfect it was almost scary.

  Adam drove out of the canyon, an eerie feeling between his shoulder blades. He could count, on one hand, the number of times during the course of his life when he was forced to look over his shoulder, and four of those times were when he was a kid. For days now he had suspected he was being watched and followed. Every time he stopped short or turned around, no one looked suspicious, but he couldn’t shake the feeling. Even Tom had commented that he thought someone was lurking beyond the perimeters of the estate because Izzie and the pups constantly sniffed at the fencing. The dogs weren’t eating normally either, something else that was starting to worry him.

  The rain was vicious tonight. A perfect evening to stay home and watch an old movie on television. With popcorn. Maybe Sara would be of the same opinion. Hell, his feet were already soaking wet on the run from the house to the garage. He’d probably catch a goddamn cold and be sick when it was time to fly back to Charleston. His stomach started to knot up at the thought of leaving.

  Adam craned his neck to see the street signs, but with the wind and rain, visibility was almost zero. He needed radar. He looked at the panel of the car with all the red and green buttons. It wouldn’t have surprised him in the least to see a digital message start to flash across the instrument panel. Obviously such a thing hadn’t been invented for cars, or Dallas would have owned it. “I miss you, Dallas. I’m doing my best. It probably isn’t good enough by your standards, but I’m trying. Wherever you are, I hope you can hear me. I wish so many things. I guess you did, too. Yet, neither one of us made those wishes come true. All I have to go on now are my own instincts, and those instincts tell me the course I’ve elected to take is the right one. If I’m on the wrong track, you need to give me some kind of sign. I always thought that hereafter stuff was bunk. Now I’m not so sure. I wish we had talked about things like that. I can’t help but wonder what you would think of me taking Dr. Killian out to dinner. I still feel a little uncomfortable about it. Some kind of sign about that would be nice, too. Dallas, there is something I don’t understand. Why in the name of God, didn’t you have some backup? In your business backup is the name of the game. I’ve been flying blind since. I got here. I keep telling myself you did leave a clue somewhere. Sandi Sims almost had me believing her. It’s one big mess, Dallas. Someone is trying to kill Sara. Somebody wants the song very badly. Guess you didn’t think that far ahead since you didn’t know your days were . . . What I mean is no one expects to die. Billy Sweet is the perfect example. For some reason people always think they’re going to live forever. It was Billy’s time to go, but it wasn’t your time, Dallas. I don’t know how I know that, but I do.”

  Feeling sheepish, Adam lit a cigarette. He rolled down the window a little, ignoring the rain as it shot through the opening in swift, stinging pellets. He lowered the window more to try to read the upcoming street sign. Good, he was in Sara’s neighborhood now. All he had to do was go two more blocks, make a right on the road that would take him to the complex to which Sara had fled. He wondered what the strange things were that she’d mentioned when she left the message. Whatever it was, it must have scared her to make her bolt. Aside from last night’s irrational behavior, he thought Sara Killian was a levelheaded woman. He corrected the thought. Dr. Killian was an intelligent, levelheaded woman. She wouldn’t get spooked for no reason. Doctors couldn’t afford to panic. From what he’d seen and observed, they usually had nerves of steel to go with their bedside manners. Whatever the strange thing was, it must have been serious to make someone like Sara leave everything behind.

  The car in front of Adam slowed, allowing him to see the rain-swept sign swaying in the wind—Oxford Garden. Now all he had to do was find the ancient truck and a parking space. He used up twenty minutes looking for the truck and Sara’s sister’s Jeep. A bolt of lightning, rare at this time of year, ripped across the sky illuminating the buildings signs with arrows pointing in all directions.

  Adam hopped from the car and raced to the building. He hoped there was a clothes dryer in there. He had no idea what he could do for his waterlogged deck shoes. He rang the bell once, twice, and then a third time. When there was no response, he turned the door handle. It opened easily to his touch. From the doorway, the fine hairs on his arm prickling, Adam called out. “Sara, it’s Adam! Is it okay to come in?” When there was still no answer, he moved cautiously, his heart taking on an extra beat. He kept calling Sara’s name as he walked through the living room across to the dining room and then to the small hallway that led to the bedrooms. Obviously his earlier assessment of Sara had been wrong. It was clear she had panicked a second time and was no longer in the apartment. Clothes were everywhere, the closet doors pushed to the side. There was no sign of the heavy black bag Sara always carried with her, confirmation that she was gone.

  The bright lights over the vanity were on, but the bathroom was dark. He pushed at the door to shed light from the hallway as he called Sara’s name again. He sucked in his breath with a hard swallow when he saw the filled tub and the cord from the blow-dryer that led to the tub. “Son of a bitch!” Stepping backward to the vanity area, he pulled the plug. He moved then, faster than he’d ever moved in his life to try to find the circuit breaker box. He ran his finger down the hard black panel until he found the square he wanted. He shoved it back into place before he raced back to the bathroom. For one brief moment he thought his head was going to rocket right off his shoulders at the sight of the blow-dryer in the water. The floor was soaking wet, a wet towel in the open doorway. What he surmised were Sara’s clothes were on the floor in a heap next to the bed. This certainly explained the absence of what Tom called the kick-ass truck. Afraid for her life, Sara had run yet again. Where was the sister? Where was the owner of the apartment? The little he knew about Sara led him to believe she had arranged for them to go somewhere else, somewhere she thought they would be safe. She was willing to take the hit for whatever was going to happen. Now she was on the run. Where would she go? Was anyone helping her? Was she out there in this weird storm, just driving aimlessly, or did she have a destination in mind? He had to admit he didn’t know. What he did know was that Sara Killian was in mortal danger.

  His deck shoes sloshing on the carpet, Adam looked around for a phone. When he saw it, he sat down on the edge of the bed, and he dialed the number at the house in the canyon. While he waited for Tom to pick up the phone, he cataloged the things on the bed. Aware of the scent of gardenias, he picked up a frothy slip and sniffed. He noticed the tags on the garments laid out across the pillow. Even with so much on her mind, Sara had managed to find the time to buy a new outfit for their date. His eyes started to burn as he looked at what he surmised was debris from the bottom of a purse or bag. A half stick of chewing gum still in the wrapper, a tattered roll of mints, little bits of foil, and what looked like tobacco granules. Either someone had cleaned out her bag or Sara had done it herself. “Tom, it’s me. Has Sara called? All right, listen to me. I want you to settle the dogs, leave plenty of food and water for them, and drive down here. Bring my briefcase, some money, and my gun. It’s in the top dresser drawer. There is an envelope with cash in the freezer. Dallas always hid cash there under the ice-cube trays. I guess it rubbed off on me. We’ll talk when you get here?”

  Adam looked at the clock before he walked back to the bathroom to stick his hand in the tub water. It was still warm, which meant Sara hadn’t been gone that long. An hour, possibly a little longer. He didn’t eve
n want to think about how Sara got out of the tub in time. The water on the floor had to mean she had leapt out, splashing and dripping in the nick of time. His heart started to pound in his chest at the thought.

  His eyes wild, Adam looked around. All of this for a fucking song.

  At eighteen minutes past seven the doorbell rang. Adam opened it to admit Tom Silk. “I think I got everything,” Tom said. “Do you have any towels?”

  Adam was busy shuffling through the papers in his briefcase. He jerked his head in the direction of the bathroom.

  “Yow!”

  “Yeah, yow. Someone tried to kill Sara Killian. She must have the reflexes of a cat to have gotten out of that tub in time. She’s on the run, and we have to find her before that whacko finds her.”

  Toweling his hair, Tom said, “My money is on that skinny singer. You said yourself the band was all present and accounted for yesterday. They’re all home with their families for the holidays. The singer is single, with only sugar daddies for company. Do you think it’s a good idea if I call around to see if I can locate her? I brought her file with me. She has parents here in California.”

  “Good idea, but don’t alarm the parents. Make up some excuse about delivering a Christmas present or something. Were the dogs okay?”

  “Of course. Izzie did something kind of strange this morning. You were still asleep. She had just come down the staircase off the kitchen when she stopped in her tracks, looked around, then beelined to the staircase in the foyer. I don’t think her feet touched those front steps. She whined, but she didn’t bark. She ran up and down the hall, sniffing and whining. I bet you have yourself a nest of mice somewhere.”

  “Thanks for sharing that, Tom. Listen, I feel that time is of the essence. Whoever is after Sara could be following her as we speak. We have to find her.”