"You said it yourself; no one's supposed to know. What's going to happen after you have the baby?"
She dropped the spoon.
"I'm sorry to intrude this way," I said hurriedly, "but I was afraid they'd whisk you off to Houston and I wouldn't be able to find you. I know it's a cozy deal, but I think you should get out of here."
"You really think he'd do that?" she asked. "How do you know he killed the other people?"
"I don't have proof yet," I said, "but it fits. His development company in Houston just went bankrupt. They don't have any money. My guess is they're going to hang out and wait for Mom and Dad to die—if he doesn't help them along—and then he's going to just live off the profits of the ranch. If she fakes the pregnancy and your baby is Randy's, the child will be a genetic descendant of the Stones, so it will fill the bill in terms of inheritance."
Rhonda put down the ice cream, and her hands cradled her stomach. "He's really a murderer? My baby would be raised by a murderer?"
"I don't have proof," I said, "but wouldn't it be better to find out for sure before you commit to giving them your baby?"
"I don't want to die," she said. "I don't want my baby to be raised by a bad person. But if I don't take the deal, what do I do? I can't go home to my husband. I don't have anything. I'm not even sure I have my job."
"We can figure that out," I said. "And if it turns out I'm wrong, you can carry on. I promise I won't say anything to anyone; the inheritance thing is kind of silly anyway, to my mind. But for now, let's get you out of here."
She hesitated, then put down the ice cream carton. "Okay," she said. "Let me get my stuff."
As she spoke, there was the sound of a vehicle’s tires crunching along the driveway. She sucked in her breath. "What if it's him?"
I hurried over to the window and peeked through the blinds. Sure enough, it was Simon, along with Jenna. As I watched, they both got out of the truck and walked to the house, where they closed the door behind them.
"Whew," she said. "You know what? Let me get my stuff together and we'll go."
"Let's just skip the stuff," I said. "You didn't have much when you got here anyway. Grab your phone and let's get out of here."
"All right," she said. "I'll go."
"Is there a back door in this place?"
"No," she said. "Just the front."
I sighed. "I guess we'll have to risk it," I said. "My truck's out there; I'd say wait until dark, but the longer it's there, the more likely they are to find it. How did you hide here without Linda and William Stone finding out about you?"
"I was careful," she said. "I know his schedule. They haven't been in this guesthouse in forever; as long as I keep the lights off and don't go outside, they said I should be good. We were going to Houston in the next day or two, anyway."
"Glad I came when I did. Ready?" I asked.
She nodded, and I opened the door a crack. "Coast is clear," I said. "Let's go!"
Together, we ran out of the house. We were halfway to the truck when she stopped.
"What?"
"My phone!"
Before I could stop her, she ran back to the house and disappeared inside. She'd just made it back onto the front stoop when there was the sound of a door opening from the house, and Simon stepped out of the ranch house.
Rhonda froze, and her eyes darted to me.
And so did Simon’s.
"Get back in that house," he said, his voice quiet and dangerous and absolutely terrifying.
"Come with me," I said.
"No," he said, and reached under his jacket. When his hand emerged, it had a gun in it. "Back in the house. Both of you."
20
In no time at all, we were back in the guesthouse with the door shut behind us. I felt like a caged animal; adrenaline coursed through me, and I scanned the living room, looking for something I could use to defend myself. Although, against a gun, I wasn't liking my odds.
He turned the gun—and a disturbingly icy gaze—my way. "What are you doing here?" he asked, all the affability I'd seen before evaporating.
I swallowed, my mouth dry. "I came to see Rhonda."
"You told her you were here?" he said, swiveling the gun back to Rhonda. Her eyes widened; I could see the whites all around her pupils.
"No!" she said. "I haven't said anything to anyone. I swear!"
"She's telling the truth. I figured it out on my own," I told him. "I was coming to talk with her. That's all."
"You're trespassing," he said.
"I'm sorry. I really just came to see Rhonda."
"Why?"
"Because she disappeared from my house," I explained. "I was worried about her."
He said nothing.
"You know, other people know I'm here," I told him.
"But you won't be for long," he said. He turned to Rhonda. "I wasn't supposed to take you to Houston until tomorrow, but I'm thinking we might have to take a trip today."
"Why?"
"You aren't very good at keeping secrets," he said. "I need to make sure you don't compromise us again. You knew the terms. I'm tempted to just call it off now."
"You can't," I said. "She's your only hope of a genetic heir. If you get rid of her, you lose your claim to the ranch."
His face hardened. "Enough," he said.
"What happened to your first wife?"
His jaw set, and he looked wary. "How do you know about her?"
"I'm an investigative reporter, remember? It must have felt so good to get rid of Randy. He was the only thing standing between you and Jenna’s inheritance."
"Randy got what he deserved," he said.
Rhonda let out a small sob.
"And Julie?"
He shrugged. "A loose end. I don't like loose ends."
A chill ran down my spine. I was standing in the same room as a murderer. And not just a murderer, but one who dispatched his victims in cold blood. How were Rhonda and I going to get out of here?
"You killed him?" Rhonda asked in a tremulous voice. "You stabbed Randy in cold blood?"
"You're better off without him, I promise you," he said.
"Did you not see Julie's car at the time?" I asked. "How did you find out she saw you?"
"I wasn't sure. I knew he was with her. I saw the car in the parking lot that night. I staked out the restaurant at closing until I saw her leave. When she got into the car, I knew it was her."
"Why did you kill her at the Market?"
"Because there were so many other suspects," he said.
"You're a murderer," she said, as if by saying the words they would be easier to believe. "Was Lucy right? Did you kill your wife, too?"
He gave a slight shrug. "She had an accident. Things weren't going well between us. Plus, the life insurance policy helped with my business."
"Business isn't going so well right now, is it?" I asked, scanning the room for potential weapons. "That's why you're so interested in the ranch all of a sudden."
"We've had a few setbacks," he admitted.
"Bankruptcy's a setback," I said.
He let out an exasperated sound. "Enough talk. Where's your car?"
"My truck is behind the barn," I said.
"Where are your keys?"
"In my pocket," I said, reaching for them.
"No," he said, raising the gun a bit. "I'll get them." I cringed as he fished in my jacket pocket, pulled out the keys, and turned to Rhonda. "Gather all your stuff together."
"Why?"
"We're going to Houston today," he said.
She looked around. "But I don't have a suitcase. What do I put it in?"
"A trash bag. They're under the sink." He turned to me. "Help her."
That was just what I was hoping he'd say. I followed Rhonda into the guesthouse's tiny kitchen; as she reached under the sink, I bent down next to her. "Separate if you can," I said. "Different rooms."
She nodded, and we walked out of the kitchen with Simon right behind us. "I'll take the bedroom,"
she said as I reached down to pick up the magazines from the end table.
He stood in the doorway of the bedroom, keeping an eye on both of us. I stuffed the magazines into the bag, along with the untouched book, then reached for a pair of socks crumpled on the floor next to the couch. There was still nothing I could find to use as a weapon.
I was slowly reaching for a book light when I heard a voice outside.
"Simon! Where are you?"
He swore under his breath. "Stay here," he said. "I'll be back to deal with you in a minute." He swung the gun around to cover both of us before sliding out the door. "I'm right here," he said, all the ice melted; back was the warm, generous voice I now knew was a total act.
When the door shut behind him, she turned to me. "What do I do?"
"Lock it," I ordered her. I already had my phone out and was dialing 911.
"But he'll be mad!"
"He's going to kill us anyway," I pointed out. "Might as well make it harder."
The dispatcher picked up as I finished speaking. "911, what's your emergency?"
I gave her a brief outline, along with the address, or at least what I knew of it.
"We'll send someone out."
"Please hurry," I said. "We've barricaded ourselves into the guesthouse, but he's armed, and we don't have weapons."
"We'll do our best," she said. "Do you want to stay on the line?"
I turned to Rhonda. "Do you have your phone?"
She nodded.
"Call this number," I said, reeling off Tobias's cell number. "Tell him we're trapped here; see if he can get Deputy Shames to come."
"Okay," Rhonda said as she finished dialing.
"Ma'am?" It was the dispatcher.
"I do want to stay on the line," I said. If nothing else, at least it would be recorded. "But I think I'm going to have to put the phone down." I pulled the phone away from my ear and glanced at the battery; I had 30 percent left.
"Stay safe, ma'am," she said.
"He didn't answer," Rhonda told me.
"Leave a message," I advised, then turned my attention back to the dispatcher on the phone. "I'll do my very best to stay safe," I promised. I put the phone down and hurried over to push a chair up against the front door, wedging the top of it under the doorknob. "Are there knives in the kitchen?" I asked Rhonda.
She nodded, her eyes still showing white all the way around.
"Does the bathroom have a window?"
"It does," she said.
"Does the door lock?"
She nodded.
"Let's go in there, then," I said. "I'm going to grab a kitchen chair so I can brace it shut."
As I spoke, the doorknob rattled. Rhonda turned white.
"Does he have a key?"
"He does." Her voice was hoarse.
"Get into the bathroom," I ordered her. I ran into the kitchen and grabbed a chair and a knife, then picked up my phone and slid it into my pocket. I could hear the dispatcher talking, but I didn't have time right then. By the time I got the bathroom door shut, I could hear him slamming his body against the door.
"He's going to kill us, isn't he?" Rhonda asked.
"Help me push this up against the door. We just have to stall him," I said, trying to sound encouraging. "Jenna’s parents don't know about you, and Jenna doesn't know I'm here. It's an advantage."
Not much of one, for sure, but beggars can't be choosers.
Together, we shoved the chair up under the knob. "Will it hold?" she asked breathlessly.
"I don't know," I said. "Let's hope so."
"What do we do now?"
I pulled the phone out of my pocket. "We've barricaded ourselves in the bathroom, but he's about to break through the door. Any ETA?"
"They're on their way," she said. "That's all I know."
"Terrific," I said, just as the door to the guesthouse slammed open.
"He's in," Rhonda said in a voice that was almost a whisper.
I reached out and grabbed her hand. "The police are on their way," I reassured her.
I just hoped they'd get here in time.
"Rhonda?" His voice was eerie, cajoling. "It's all gonna be okay," he said. "I don't want to hurt anyone. I just want to get you to Houston, so you and the baby will be safe."
She looked like she wanted to reply, but I held up a hand.
"Come on, sweetheart. You can trust me. I'm going to take care of you." We could hear his voice moving around the guesthouse. "Let's just make this easy, okay? If you come out now, I'll toss in an extra twenty thousand. Easy money," he said. "All you have to do is come out, and I'll take you down to Houston. You'll love the place. Jacuzzi tub, penthouse apartment... you'll be living in high style."
We could hear footsteps; all too soon, they stopped outside the bathroom door. "I know you're in there," he said. "There's nowhere to go. I have your friend's keys. Even if you could get out, it's a long way to the gate; you'll never make it."
I could feel Rhonda shaking beside me.
"Come on, just open up," he said. "I won't hurt you. I promise."
Rhonda couldn't resist anymore. "You killed the love of my life!" she wailed. "Why would I trust you?"
He swore, all the sweetness gone, and kicked at the door. The whole building seemed to tremble.
"Open the damned door!" he yelled. "I don't have all day. We just have to get this over with. I'm getting in there one way or another. Do you want to do this the hard way or the easy way?" He paused. "You won't like the hard way, I promise," he added in an ominous voice.
"Go out the bathroom window,” I whispered to Rhonda while he talked. "Go get help from the house. I’ll keep him occupied here."
"Are you sure?" she asked, eyes wide.
"I am. Go," I told her.
As Rhonda stood on the toilet and opened the window, I spoke. "Why did you kill Randy at Rosita's?" I asked to buy time.
"I knew he had a thing for a waitress there. He bragged about it to me. I figured it would be a good way to throw suspicion on someone else."
"And Rhonda's husband had just found out about the affair, so there were plenty of motives. Plus, with Rhonda pregnant, you had another opportunity. How did you find out?" I watched Rhonda; she’d gotten the window open and had put one leg through. I nodded encouragingly as Simon answered.
"Jenna saw her buying the test at the Red and White. When she found out about Randy and Rhonda, she reached out to her."
"So Rhonda called her from my house after her husband threw her out?" I asked as Rhonda got her second leg through. She let out a little “Oof” as she hit the ground, but Simon didn’t hear her.
"She did. It was perfect timing."
Rhonda was out of the window by now. Her head popped up. "What do I do again?" she whispered.
"What?" Simon asked.
I cleared my throat. "I said, when is she due?"
"Six months, we think. She's got an appointment with a doctor in Houston next week."
As he spoke, I waved Rhonda to the main house.
"So you were going to bring the baby back here?" I asked, still buying time.
"That baby is going to be born with a silver spoon in its mouth."
"Will you be able to be a good father, knowing he or she isn't really yours?" I asked.
"Hopefully, the baby will have Jenna’s good qualities, not her brother's."
"What if Chad comes back?"
"Oh, he died years ago," he said.
"How do you know?"
"I heard about the bones under the courthouse. I'll put my money on them being Chad’s. But enough about family history. It's time for you to open that door."
"No, thank you," I said politely, praying Rhonda was able to do what I'd told her to.
"I hate to do this," he said, not sounding sincere at all, "but if you don't open the door, I'm going to have to kick it down. And if that doesn't work, I'm going to have to start shooting."
"If you do that, won't you alert everyone in the big house?"
I said a small prayer and climbed up onto the toilet, planning to follow Rhonda through the window. That was when the first shot sounded. Wood splintered, and the window shattered. Instinctively, I jumped into the bathtub and covered my head with my arms, curling up in a small ball and hoping it was cast iron and not fiberglass. As I did my best impression of a hedgehog, I could hear him trying the door, but it didn't sound like it was opening. A moment later, there was a second shot. This one seemed more effective; there was an explosion of wood shards, and I could hear the chair scrape against the floor.
He was almost in.
I made sure I had the hilt of the knife in my hand and stayed low in the tub as he further dislodged the chair we'd used to barricade the door. He kicked at the door again, and I could hear it slide further. I put the phone to my ear. "ETA?" I whispered, hoping the dispatcher was still there.
"Any moment, darlin'," she said. "You're doin' great."
The chair broke with a cracking noise; he was in. A moment later, Simon Flagg loomed over me, gun in hand. Was my last conversation on earth really going to be with the 911 dispatcher and a murderous lunatic?
I gripped the knife and was trying to come up with a desperate, last-ditch plan when a familiar voice sounded from behind Simon.
"Rhonda Gehring stopped in for a visit." It was William Stone. "She said you killed my boy."
Simon whirled around, still holding the gun.
"She's crazy," Simon said. "Always has been."
"She's not the one holding a Glock on a lady in a bathtub," William observed.
"She threatened me," he said.
"You're the one with the gun, looks like to me. I hear you killed my son and were going to try to pass his kid off as yours so Jenna would inherit the ranch."
Simon said nothing.
"I always knew there was something wrong about you. We would have died in our sleep real soon, isn't that right? And then who knows what would have happened to Jenna."
"You've got it all wrong, old man," Simon snarled. "This woman threatened me. I was defending myself." He raised the gun. "I recommend you stop pointing that thing at me, or I might have to kill you in self-defense."
Mistletoe Murder (Dewberry Farm Mysteries Book 4) Page 15
