Legacy (Capitol Chronicles Book 5)

by Shirley Hailstock

  Erika was too nervous to talk. She sat quietly next to him and watched the scenery whiz by. What was going to happen at her mother's? Did Alva have an ulterior motive in inviting them to dinner, and what was it? Every other time Erika had been with her mother the results had been disastrous. Why shouldn't she think they would be the same today? And be prepared for them? Yet she couldn't think of anything her mother would want from her. Alva had plenty of money, with the checks that Graves Enterprises sent to her each month.

  Could she want her love? Erika shivered at the thought. At this stage in her life, could her mother really want to make amends? A numbness went through her. If that was her mother's intention, Erika didn't know if she could handle that. She'd never had any practice. Her mother had been out of her life since she met Carlton. His wife was already dead when they met. The only women in the household were the maids and cooks. Erika had gotten to know some of them, but none of them took on the role of substitute mother.

  Erika's attention came back to the car and Michael's driving. She felt, more than saw, the change in him. Panic caught in her throat as she watched him pump the brakes and felt the car accelerate.

  "What's wrong?" she asked stupidly.

  "The brakes aren't working."

  "Try the emergency brake."

  Michael stepped on it. Nothing happened. The car careened forward at an extraordinary speed. The road had been sparsely travelled, but now there were cars everywhere. Michael weaved in and out of traffic, avoiding one collision after another. Horns blared as he cut drivers off short. Erika's heart beat like a drum. The guardrail sailed past her in a silver blur.

  "Erika, I want you to climb over the seat and get into the back."

  "What are you going to do?"

  Michael didn't answer. He shifted onto the shoulder past an eighteen wheeler, then shot back onto the paved road. The truck blew its airhorn in protest of such a foolhardy act.

  "Put the seatbelt on and lie down."

  Putting her trust in him, she didn't waste time arguing, but climbed over the seat and fell into the back. Righting herself she put on the seatbelt.

  Looking up she saw a stream of traffic coming in at Exit Two. Both lanes ahead had cars in them. They had no place to go.

  "What are you going to do?" she whispered.

  Michael switched to the fast lane, cutting off cars and eliciting more blares of horns. Reaching the left shoulder, he sped past a parked highway patrol car at ninety miles an hour. The car immediately began following him. The blue and red flashing lights did nothing to help slow down the car. More and more traffic seemed to come into the roadway.

  "Lie down Erika. I'm going to stop this thing."

  "How?" she asked. "How are you going to stop? There's nothing in front of us but other cars."

  "I'm going to use the wall. Now lie down."

  Erika looked to the side. The sound wall built alongside neighborhoods to cut down on the traffic noise stretched ahead. Michael cut in front of a truck and got on the opposite shoulder. The police car followed them.

  "Michael, do you know what you're doing?"

  "No, but I don't have a choice!" he shouted. "Now get down."

  She huddled behind Michael and waited. The car seemed to go faster when she couldn't see what was happening. Then she heard the sound of metal against stone. Erika had never heard anything more frightening in her life. She clenched her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut. The car bumped and grated against the wall, then it appeared to strike something. She rolled against the restraint, bumping her head on the back of Michael's seat. She heard the "whooshing" sound of the air bag being released. The car bumped over uneven ground, throwing her around like a rag doll. Finally, it bumped against something hard and bounced her around before her head crashed the door as the car came to a halt.

  For a moment Erika didn't move. While the air had rushed by the car, creating a harsh sound, all she heard now was the faint ticking of a crushed engine.

  "Michael," she called. He didn't answer. Erika released her belt and sat up. Through the windows she saw only sky. The car had passed the sound wall and hit the guardrail. It teetered there. Michael lay unconscious against the air bag, which had opened and pushed him back in his seat.

  She shifted to see if he was all right.

  "Don't move!"

  Erika faintly heard the shout from outside the car. She turned her head, but it was too late. The car pitched forward. She gasped as it went over the railing and picked up momentum as it careened through the brush. Erika screamed as she was thrown back and forth over the seats. She didn't think the car would stop. When it did, she felt like a crash dummy. Her body was thrown against the window. A blinding pain ripped through her head, bringing tears to her eyes. Reaching up, she tried to touch her head. Everything hurt, and she groaned. She felt blood in her eye and tried to wipe it away. Everything was a blur. She blinked, trying to focus, but her head was heavy and she couldn't see. Resting her head, she fought to remain conscious, but she felt her head spinning. She wanted it to stop, but she couldn't stop it. Then she was falling, falling down a long tunnel. She couldn't fall, she told herself. Michael needed her. She needed to know that he was all right. She fought the darkness closing in around her. The light hurt and the dark felt good, cool, and welcoming.

  "Michael," Erika moaned.

  She lost the fight and fainted.

  ***

  Michael groaned at the pain. He tried to open his eyes, but the pain was too much. Moving his hand, he found something restraining him. He forced his eyes open. The hospital room was unmistakable. Then it came back. The car. The accident. Erika!

  Where was Erika? He searched the bed for the bell that would summon a nurse. The pain made him groan again.

  "Michael," he heard his name.

  Michael opened his eyes again. This time the pain was worse. He thought he saw Malick, but he couldn't have. Malick wasn't there. Then the darkness came. He couldn't remember what he'd been thinking, just that the darkness felt good and he let it take him away.

  When Michael woke again, it was daylight. The pain was greater than it had been. Light hurt his eyes. He forced himself to do it.

  "Peter?" he called, squinting. The man sleeping in the chair by his bed looked like his brother.

  The man in the chair moved and was instantly at his bedside. "Michael, you're awake." It was Peter. "How do you feel?"

  "Like I fell off a mountain."

  Peter laughed. "You aren't far from the truth. Do you remember the accident?"

  He tried to nod, immediately realizing that it wasn't a good idea when pain shot from the base of his head to his crown. "Yes," he said. "Erika? Is she all right?"

  "She'll be fine. She has a concussion, some cuts and bruises. Otherwise she's as good as new. Malick and her mother are with her."

  "Her mother?" Michael touched his head. "Oh, yes, we were going to have dinner with her tonight."

  "I'm afraid that was last night, but I’m glad your memory wasn’t damaged.”

  “I have a headache and my eyes hurt like hell.”

  “We got the news that you were hurt just as we were sitting down to eat. Everyone picked up and left."

  "They're all here?" Michael asked, trying to keep his mind clear. The effort was painful and took a lot of energy.

  "Including mother,” Peter said. “She flew down last night."

  Michael looked around, wondering where everyone was.

  "They're in the waiting area," Peter explained. "I'll let them know you're awake."

  "Not yet." Michael knew his brother well. Even though yesterday was Thanksgiving, he knew Peter would have found out something about the accident. "What happened to the car?"

  "It had so little brake fluid in it, it might as well have been empty."

  "That's why they didn't work." Michael found the control for the bed and raised himself to a sitting position. The effort forced him to squint against the pain.

  "That was only part of it,"
Peter explained. "The brake line had also been slit. If the low fluid didn't give out, pumping it onto the ground surely would have."

  "What about Frank Mason? Has anyone spotted him?"

  "No luck there. I talked to the policeman who took the report. At my insistence they checked the car for fingerprints. We only found yours and Erika's."

  Michael was beginning to feel better. "I suppose that means Frank is confident that everything is under control. He was always like that, knowing he had the upper hand."

  "He doesn't have the upper hand here," Peter said, anger in his voice. "Michael, you've got to hire someone to look out for you."

  "I've already done that. I hired two bodyguards."

  "Where are they?"

  "I don't know. I had them tailing Erika. I haven't seen them in a while, but I know they're close by."

  "They surely aren't doing their job."

  "I still have confidence in them," Michael said. "Erika is all right and they were hired to guard her person, not to check on the vehicles. In fact, they are rarely on the estate."

  "Why?"

  "Erika didn't want a bodyguard. I hired them without her knowledge."

  "She's going to have to find out now."

  "I don't think that will be a problem after the accident."

  Peter became very quiet for a moment. Michael was getting tired, but he wanted to see Erika, see for himself that she was fine. He checked the IV in his hand and followed the clear tubing up to the plastic bag hanging over his head. He didn't think he could get out of bed.

  "Michael, have you considered that there might be another person, other than Frank, behind this?"

  "What? Peter, you were the person who noticed the connection between the judge and the lawyer's deaths."

  "I know, but I want to make sure we're not focusing so much on Frank Mason that we overlook someone else."

  "Who?"

  "I have no idea." Peter spread his hands. "Maybe someone in Erika's past."

  Alva Redford's face came to mind. She'd come from nowhere and invited her daughter to dinner. While the two of them had been estranged for years, she suddenly decided to break bread with her daughter. When Michael first met her, she and Erika had been in the middle of an argument. One other time that he knew of Alva had appeared and an argument resulted. Then she invited them to dinner.

  "Peter," Michael finally said. "I want you to check out Alva St. James Redford."

  "Erika's mother?"

  "The two of them don't get on." Michael told him his concerns and Peter agreed to check into the files and see what he could find. "Also, find out what connection Alva Redford had with Carlton Lipton-Graves."

  Michael yawned and closed his eyes. His eyelids grew heavy. The effort to keep them open taxed his energy. Peter didn't speak and soon Michael entered a warm, fuzzy world where Erika waited.

  ***

  "Malick, you should be in this chair," Erika admonished.

  "Shhh," he quieted her. "This is against all the hospital rules and if we get caught they'll probably keep our dinner from us."

  Erika snickered behind her hand. Malick wheeled her through the hospital corridors toward Michael's room. Erika hadn't seen him since they were brought in, two days ago. She didn't remember the ambulance ride. She was afraid Michael was seriously hurt, that Malick hadn't told her the truth and he was unconscious, in a coma, unable to speak or see. Malick stopped the wheelchair in front of a door that looked much like the door to her room. He turned her around and pulled her into the room. When he wheeled her around, she saw that Michael stood near the window. His IV stood on a pole next to him. The clear liquid glistened in the sunshine.

  Michael’s room was the same as hers, with standard hospital furniture, but every space in hers was covered with flowers. She wondered how so many people could have heard about the accident so quickly and immediately sent flowers. A lot of them were from people in the office, but several were from her friends. She felt a little guilty that she hadn't had time for them in the past, and resolved to correct that in the future.

  Michael wore a blue velour robe, matching the pink one she wore. Malick's nurse had followed instructions in buying them something other than hospital nightclothes, even if she had dressed them like His and Her bookends.

  Michael turned as the door closed.

  "Erika," he said, coming to her and kneeling next to her chair. "I've been going out of my mind with worry."

  Michael looked better than she thought he would. In the car when she couldn’t wake him, she thought he might be dead. Then the car fell and she woke up here with her head in a brace.

  Erika didn't notice Malick leaving them. She'd completely forgotten him when she saw Michael. His face had brush burns from the air bag. His skin was raw in places and looked painful. Other than that, his features were as handsome as she remembered. Then she thought of her own state. Without makeup and bruised, her hair flat to her head, she must look like a monster.

  "How's your head? Peter told me you had a concussion." He touched her. Erika's hand covered his.

  "He came to see me. Your whole family came in one by one. They're very nice people. I liked them."

  "I hope they weren't too overwhelming. They can be."

  She smiled. "They were concerned about you."

  "I was concerned about you," Michael said. Erika’s hand covered his.

  Erika's heart swelled large enough to lodge in her throat. "The doctors say the headaches will go away in a few days. I'll be as good as new before you know it. And you, what have they said about you?"

  "I'm being discharged tomorrow morning."

  Her heart dropped. "They haven't told me when I will be able to leave."

  "It will be soon."

  Michael stood up. He opened his hands and she put hers in them. With him helping her, she stood up. He led her to a chair and sat her down. Then he took the other chair.

  "Erika, it's time for the bodyguards."

  "I agree," she said.

  Michael thought he was going to have to argue with her, but she eliminated the need for his well-planned speech. ''Two of them will be here when you're discharged, and from then until Frank Mason is caught and jailed."

  Erika began to shake. She gripped his hands tightly. "I've never been so scared in my life. When I saw you . . ." Her voice cracked. "I thought you were—"

  "Stop. We're both fine. And nothing is going to happen to us."

  She took a deep breath. "I didn't really believe it could happen until we were in the car. Even Malick's house seemed unreal, but you pumping that brake made me think I was going to die."

  Michael left his chair. With his untethered hand, he pulled her into his arms and held her. Erika trembled against him. He cradled her head against his shoulder. He could have lost her. Anger enveloped him and he held her closer. Michael was in doubt that Frank was behind their accident. He’d scared her and Michael didn't like that. He didn't like the fact that he’d put her in danger. She could have been killed. He had to do something. He had to find Frank. This cat and mouse game had gone on long enough.

  It was time for them to make a stand.

  ***

  Frank laughed, threw his head back and bellowed. Michael Lawrence was as predictable as night falling. He'd played right into Frank’s hands, as if he didn't know the cards were stacked against him. Of course, Frank had thought he'd only have an accident in town. Going over a ravine and spending a couple of days in the hospital was a far better script than the one he'd written. And he gladly accepted the revision.

  Michael's little accident had forced his family to join him. From the smallest child to the oldest adult, they'd all run to his rescue, like they could do something. And they must have left in an incredible hurry. From the looks of things, they took only enough time to clear the dinner dishes.

  Frank walked about the dining room, a sneer on his face. This looked like a lawyer's house. He hated lawyers. If he could have one wish in life it would be to rid the wo
rld of lawyers. If he was lucky, by this time next week there would be at least one less in the world, maybe two if they came home together.

  Frank looked around, went through the kitchen. The door to the garage was unlocked and the car was missing. He looked up. The garage door was controlled by a remote. More than likely they would enter through this door. To be on the safe side he’d wired both doors.

  He went to work then. The wires matched the molding, as if he'd had a blueprint of the interior of the house. No one would notice it if they came in, but they weren't going to get the chance. Opening the door would arm the device. Ten minutes later, when everyone was safely inside the folds of their own home, it would blow. The ensuing explosive would travel through to the other door, either by wire or heat, and it, too, would flare up like an exploding rocket.

  He was sorry he wouldn't be here to see it. This kind of an explosion was a work of art, and Frank enjoyed art. But he knew better than to be anywhere near this when the candles were lit. This wasn't his primary target. He needed to concentrate on Michael Lawrence. It might not be as easy to penetrate the grounds of that estate, but he could certainly draw him out into the open. The two of them knew they had to meet sooner or later, and Frank wanted it to be sooner. This was his method. Michael’s family had run to him when he was hurt. He would certainly return the favor. Would he be surprised at his welcoming committee?

  "Kaboom," Frank said, then laughed, laughed to the heavens. The sound echoed off the furniture, the woodwork, the kitchen sink, and gleaming refrigerator. It was a wicked laugh, the kind that Frank had given the judge when he'd sentenced him to a mental hospital. Well, the judge was certainly not laughing now. His time had come.

  Now Michael's time was almost out.

  Chapter 16

  Erika's discharge came twenty-four hours after Michael's. While her injuries were initially less severe than his, her concussion required more observation before her doctor would release her. The company limousine came to pick her up and drive her to the house. Stiffly she got out of the backseat, leaning heavily on Michael for support.