Dangerous

by Lee Magner

  “I never should have given you the damned key,” Case told her, speaking against her ear so that only she could hear.

  She nuzzled against his lips and smiled as he sucked in his breath sharply in response to her.

  “I’ll stick to you like glue, Case Malloy,” she whispered. “I can track you down in a minute. Always could. Always will.”

  He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close and holding them both absolutely still. He cocked his head to one side, listening intently.

  Footsteps.

  Franklin was walking through the same rooms that Case had come through. Cautiously. Stopping every few strides to listen. Case wondered if he had heard their whispers. Probably not, but they couldn’t be sure. Case estimated that at the rate Franklin was approaching, be would be in this room before they reached the door.

  And then he would see Clare. She couldn’t get clear of the door in time.

  Case cursed viciously to himself. Well, the best-laid plans, he thought to himself, once more were going to hell in the proverbial handbasket.

  “Clare,” he whispered. “I’m going to have to leave you here.”

  She stared at him, her eyes round with alarm.

  He kissed her lips, and it was a moment of fiery anguish.

  “I’m going to draw his attention and lead him into the other room. When I’ve got him there, I want you to leave through the door you used to come in.”

  “No!”

  “Yes!” he whispered forcefully. He held her face in his hands and stared into her eyes. Softly, yet with all the force of his feelings for her, he whispered, “I love you, Clare Browne.”

  Stunned, Clare could only stare at him, her heart in her eyes.

  “I love you,” he murmured against her lips, holding her in his arms as if he were saying goodbye for an eternity. “I’ve always loved you. I’ll be damned if anything’s going to hurt you. Now get the hell out of here as soon as I’ve got his attention. We don’t have time to argue about this. He’ll find us before I can distract him.”

  He pushed away from her and looked into her eyes. His expression was grim.

  Clare swallowed hard. She nodded.

  “Don’t let anything happen to you,” she whispered. “I want to hear those words again. I’ve longed for them so long…”

  “You can hear them as often as you want,” he said huskily, “if you’ll just keep out of harm’s way tonight.”

  She was torn. If he was worrying about her, he wouldn’t put his full attention on protecting himself from Franklin. She didn’t want to be his Achilles’ heel in this dangerous confrontation. On the other hand, she yearned to be there for him, to help him if she could.

  Her expression reflected the inner battle she was waging. Case grimaced. He didn’t have time to argue with her, but she wasn’t moving, damn it! She was a stubborn little small-town tigress full throttle into protective mode.

  “Clare—This may be our only chance to get enough evidence from him to actually bring justice to this case,” he whispered urgently. “I tricked him here. Now I want to get the truth from his own mouth. I want it on tape. If you leave, I can finish what I’ve started. If you stay, I’ll have to hide with you to make sure you’re not hurt.”

  Clare clung to his arm. She didn’t want him out of her sight, but he had made a strong argument for her leaving.

  “I told Honoria to send the sheriff here,” she pleaded. “We won’t be at risk long.”

  “But he ain’t here yet, baby.” Case sucked in his breath. “And that means I have to get the information from him before the sheriff shows up. So we don’t have time to argue about this, damn it.” He pulled her down, concealing her behind a long line of heavy tables and storage units, while he knelt on one knee beside her. “Please, Clare? Do it for me?”

  She heard the footsteps coming closer. Time was up. She knew Case was right. He couldn’t watch his own back if he was worried about her. She could take care of that problem, at least.

  “I’ll do it for us,” she whispered. She grabbed his hand and kissed it. “I love you.”

  His eyes burned, his feelings for her no longer hidden or denied. But there was no time to talk now. He had heard the footsteps, too. He squeezed her hand hard, kissed her quickly on the mouth and pulled away from her.

  In a crouch, he ran across the room toward one of the far doors that led back into the factory maze.

  Clare watched his form disappear in the darkness. Her heart pounded so hard she thought Franklin must hear it in the other room. Please be safe, she silently prayed.

  She heard Franklin’s footsteps stop as if he were hearing Case move through the building. Then Franklin’s footsteps started up again. But this time, he turned down the hall that would lead toward the interior of the building…where Case had just gone.

  A moment later, she heard Franklin’s voice.

  “So you intend to blackmail me. Is that it?”

  Silence.

  “Why don’t you come out?” Franklin asked silkily. “Or are you afraid of me?” He laughed softly. “You should be.” Franklin was walking slowly, stopping from time to time as he talked, listening for sounds that would reveal his quarry’s whereabouts. “I can probably guess who you are, of course,” he said with a casualness that sounded a little too contrived. “There aren’t that many people who could have any old letters from Lexie. Fewer still who’d go to the trouble of cutting and pasting a note like the one you managed to get into my in-box this morning.”

  Still silence.

  “All afternoon I asked myself,” Franklin began, eyeing the dark corners as he entered the next room. “Who would still be worried about that old murder? Surely if it were someone local, they would have made a fuss years ago. Especially if they actually had that diary of Lexie’s. I told her not to keep a diary. Never leave a paper trail.” He laughed softly, chillingly. “Frankly, I was surprised she knew how to write her name, let alone daily entries in a little leather book with a small metal lock on it.”

  Case smiled coldly. So Lexie had kept a diary. When he’d written that in the letter, he’d been trying to flush Franklin out by suggesting she had written about their affair. But if she really had kept a diary, maybe it could be found. That would be as close to hard evidence of their relationship as they were likely to get so many years after the fact. And from Franklin’s description, it sounded as if he might actually have seen her diary.

  Franklin continued his monologue, approaching relentlessly as he spoke. “So, who would still be worried about Lexie’s death? I asked myself. Everyone thought the murderer had been found and convicted. Surely no one would be scrounging through old papers, searching for another killer.” Franklin made a sound of surprise. “But then it hit me,” he said, almost cheerfully. “There’s one person in town who probably gives a damn.” Then, in a more irritated voice, “Maybe two, since he’s stirred up old problems and reinvigorated his teasing relationship with Crawfordsville’s local vestal virgin. Is she still a virgin, by the way? Or did her adoration finally worm through those noble defenses of yours?”

  Case clenched his teeth. If Franklin were within his reach, he’d gladly have silenced him in the most primitive way. It was tough to sneer with your teeth smashed down your throat.

  Franklin laughed insultingly, baiting his quarry still further.

  “Probably not,” he guessed, answering his own question about virginity. “Was she good, Case? Was she worth the wait?”

  Case angrily fisted one hand, but forced himself to remain still. He needed the element of surprise. He refused to be drawn out before he was ready. Later, he’d convey his thoughts to Franklin in body language, he promised himself coldly.

  “There were times I considered trying to take those clothes off her myself,” Franklin continued conversationally. “She always looked good in a bathing suit. It doesn’t take much to imagine her without anything at all…”

  Franklin continued walking through the room, alert for sign
s of movement. Tired of tossing out verbal challenges, he changed his topic, getting bluntly to the point.

  “If you want to talk, come out,” he demanded in a hard voice. “Are you a coward? Maybe you are. You didn’t sign your name to that crude invitation you sent me.”

  He listened. Heard nothing.

  Angrily, he demanded, “Come out or to hell with you.”

  Case knew that Franklin wouldn’t leave. He couldn’t afford to let this kind of information get spread around. He had to eliminate it and the bearer of the incriminating accusations. His career, his future, his very life, depended on it.

  Case hoped that Clare had gotten out of the building by now. She’d had time to get back to that door she’d entered. He had no way of knowing when the sheriff was coming, assuming that Honoria had found him. However, if the sheriff was indeed on the way here, Case knew that he had to get the information he needed on tape before he arrived. It was the one, slim shot he had at pinning the guilt where it belonged. He wouldn’t get a second chance at this. Not even the luck of the Irish could provide for that.

  Case slid, in a crouch, along the old trays and vats. He stopped at the far end and carefully tossed a coin across the room. When it landed, Franklin whirled toward the sound.

  “Well, well. Don’t be shy, Case. I assume it is Case? Let’s talk man-to-man about this. How long have you harbored this delusion that I’m—what did that crude note say—a murderer?”

  Case tossed a small screw a few feet to the left of the coin.

  Again, Franklin turned in that direction. This time, Case could see his hand. There was a gun in it.

  “That’s a nasty name to call an old friend,” Franklin said icily. “You don’t really think that I can permit someone to go around talking like that about me? Do you?”

  Franklin had reached the area where the coin and the screw lay. In the dark, he couldn’t see them, but he realized that Case wasn’t there. He turned and walked slowly in the opposite direction, where Case crouched, hidden.

  A bang sounded outside. Then another. And a slow screaming ending in a cracker jack burst of sound and light.

  “What wonderful timing,” Franklin noted cheerfully. “A little celebration to cover our… conversation.’’

  Case took a small metal bar off the table next to him, and made his way around behind Franklin in the dark. When Franklin reached the place he had been, Case had flanked him.

  The increasing noise of the fireworks muffled the sounds and Case watched carefully as Franklin stood, obviously wondering where his quarry was.

  “What do you want, Case?”

  Case quietly removed a micro tape recorder from his pocket and turned it on. He laid it carefully on top of a rusting steel drum with the volume turned up high enough to capture everything that was said.

  “What do you want?” Franklin shouted furiously. He waved the gun to the right of his hip, punctuating his words with the gesture.

  It made a perfect target. Case tossed the metal bar and struck Franklin’s wrist, knocking the gun from his grasp.

  Franklin yelled in pain and whirled to face his attacker. But Case was already leaping forward and he tackled Franklin, throwing him to the dirty factory floor. The two men crashed into the solid concrete with bruising force.

  They rolled and grunted and tore at each other, each struggling to get the upper hand. Franklin grabbed Case’s hair and shirt, but Case punched him in the throat and Franklin released his hold to block the next blow. Dust rose in the air as they rolled across the factory aisle. In the sky outside, another bright burst of fireworks dully illuminated the factory through its dirty windowpanes for a few seconds.

  Franklin grunted, punched, elbowed and gouged, but Case had more experience with down-and-dirty physical fighting. Within a few minutes, he had Franklin pinned on his stomach, unable to move.

  Case shoved his knee into Franklin’s kidney and tightened his arm around Franklin’s throat, pulling back until Franklin could barely gasp.

  “Hold still,” Case ordered coldly, breathing hard.

  Franklin quieted.

  Case cautiously loosened his hold on Franklin’s throat, just enough to let him gulp in air and recover a little from the fight.

  “What do you want?” Franklin asked in a tortured voice. “What the hell do you want?”

  “I want to know what happened,” Case said, his voice hard and implacable.

  “And if I tell you, what then?” Franklin managed to ask.

  “One thing at a time. Why did you frame Seamus for murdering Lexie?”

  “I’m not a fool…” Franklin tried to wiggle free, but Case held him fast and retightened his hold on Franklin’s throat. He stopped struggling. Case eased the pressure. “Why should I say anything?”

  “Because you’re not leaving here until you do.”

  “No one will believe you if you try to repeat it. You’re threatening me.”

  “I think that gun you brought makes it pretty clear who was doing the threatening tonight,” Case said coldly.

  The sky erupted in a series of staccato bursts of light and sound like a Gatling gun rattling off colored streamers of liquid fire high overhead.

  “All right. But let me up. I can’t breathe. You’re crushing the air from my chest,’’ he gasped.

  Case hesitated. Until he heard the footsteps a little behind him. The person’s approach had been muffled by the sounds of the fireworks and the hard breathing of the two men. Case turned his head quickly.

  Honoria Bonney was bending down to pick up her son’s gun. When she straightened, she pointed it at the two men on the floor.

  She was looking straight at Case.

  He assumed the gun was aimed at him.

  “Don’t say another word, Franklin,” she murmured.

  Franklin turned his head sharply. A look of shock swept over his bruised face. It was followed by a wary, uncertain expression.

  “Mother!”

  “Let him up,” she said stiffly.

  Case hesitated.

  She tightened her grip on the gun and firmly lined up the sights. She was aiming straight at Case’s head.

  “You’d hit both of us,” Case said.

  “That might not be the worst thing that could happen yet tonight,” Honoria said in a strained voice. Her lips pressed tight, making a line of anxiety around her mouth. Lines of worry creased her forehead. “Let Franklin go.”

  Case stood up, but he pulled Franklin with him, yanking him around in front of him as a shield.

  “Just how good a shot are you, Honoria?” Case asked speculatively.

  Her hand wavered. She shifted the weapon to the right of her son’s head, then to the left, trying to get Case exclusively in her line of fire. He in turn kept shifting slightly, eluding her.

  “Were you his accomplice in all this?” Case demanded angrily.

  Honoria blinked. Her lips went bloodless. Her cold, patrician features were stiff with fear.

  “I would never get involved in murder.” Her regal tones were uncharacteristically strained as she spoke. Her gaze shifted to her son. The expression on her face transformed into one of resignation. “I didn’t believe that you could ever get involved in killing another human being,” she whispered, speaking to Franklin as if they were all alone in the world. “I saw you sneak out to see Lexie, though. And I followed you once…to the lake. You were both naked in the water.”

  Franklin stared at her stonily. “I like women, Mother,” he snapped. “Just because Father is devoted to you doesn’t mean that every man desires the companionship of a political wife for his entire existence. Lexie was flesh and blood.”

  “Flesh,” Honoria repeated, as if the word somewhat repulsed her. “And blood. In the end.” She looked at him distastefully.

  “He wants to blackmail me,” Franklin told her softly. His eyes were steady and focused on hers. “It will ruin my life. But it will also ruin yours. Everyone will forever think of you as the mother of that smal
l-town politician who was accused of murdering a young woman in a lurid sex scandal.”

  Honoria stiffened. She seemed to age before their eyes as the consequences became unbearably obvious. She frowned, trying to think of what to do. What happened to toppled pillars of the community?

  Franklin tried to be helpful.

  “Where is the diary?” Franklin asked Case. “Give it to us and we’ll consider forgetting about this little blackmail attempt.”

  Case laughed and tightened his full-nelson grip on Franklin’s arms. “In my next lifetime, Franklin,” Case said in disgust.

  “We could make things difficult for you, and for those you— dare I call it—love?” Franklin threatened silkily. He howled as Case shoved his arms up a notch.

  “You’re not in a very strong position for sneering threats,” Case said tightly.

  “But Mother is,” he said, his eyes gleaming. “Mother is the power behind the throne in our family. She’d have been a great queen back in the days when they had real power. She’s made me what I am today, haven’t you, Mother? Carefully grooming me to be a major player in the political rings of this country. The next handsome young man to run for president, winning out of the blue…. That’s what you always dreamed of, wasn’t it, Mother?”

  Case saw Honoria’s eyes glaze over as she followed her son’s images. Franklin controlled Honoria just as much as she controlled Franklin, Case decided. She may not have known about the murder, may not have helped in any way, but she was a mother protecting her only child. And she was a determined woman whose entire life’s ambition was threatened with annihilation and public disgrace.

  She was a very dangerous person to be facing, even with Franklin still held as a shield in front of him, Case realized grimly.

  “It won’t do you any good,” Case said. “There’s evidence out there. By the time your lawyer tries to get Franklin out on bail, it ought to be in the hands of the prosecutors. Did you know that Lexie was pregnant?” Case asked her.

  Fireworks rattled the windows. Scraping sounds all around them sounded like footsteps, but it had to be the effects of the explosions in the air, Case thought.