by Norah Wilson
“Miss Townsend. I’m surprised to see you here.”
“I’m sure.” Lauren wet her suddenly dry lips. “I’m not surprised to see you here though.”
His eyebrows shot up. “No?”
“I knew you were coming to kill Marlena. I told her as much.”
“So that’s how the bitch knew what was coming!” Harvey’s face darkened with rage. “I knew her avaricious little heart would never have let her see beyond the prize I dangled.”
Lauren noticed he pressed one hand to his side where Marlena had stuck him with the jackknife. He was losing blood. If he lost enough, maybe he’d grow weak, dizzy, disoriented. She had to keep him talking.
“What I want to know,” he said, “is how you knew.”
She almost smiled. All the times she’d told this story, or one like it, and no one had believed her. Harvey would believe her. “I saw it.”
He snorted. “Obviously you saw it. You had to have been close by to have come riding in like that. But how did you know I was going to kill the bitch?”
She did smile this time. “No, I saw it in a vision.”
His brows came together in a scowl. “A vision?”
“Yup. Quite a few times, actually. Marlena didn’t want to believe me, but I told her what you’d be wearing. About the gloves. How you’d still be wearing them when you grasped her arms, when you glided them up to her shoulders, then seized her neck.”
“Nice try.” He lifted his hand from his side, cursed when fresh blood trickled down, then went back to applying pressure. “But you literally saw all of that.”
Keep him talking, Lauren. Keep him bleeding. “True. But did I see you pull out a book of matches bearing the Foothills Ranch logo, light a cigarette, and toss the book of matches to the ground?”
He let out a low whistle. “Well, by God, I do believe we have the genuine article. A psychic.”
Thank God! She’d been praying there was a purpose, a deliberation, to that action, the dropping of the matches near the body. Apparently there was. “I thought you’d believe me.”
“Well, ma’am, you must be a very good actress, because you certainly didn’t give yourself away.”
“That’s because I only recently figured out that you were the killer.”
Up went the eyebrows again. “I thought you said you saw me do it in this vision of yours.”
“I saw what you would have seen, right out of your eyes.” Maybe she could freak him out with that. “You see, I was in your head, Harvey. In there looking out.”
He didn’t take the bait. “Who else knows about this vision of yours?”
“Cal knows. He’s called the police.”
Harvey’s posture relaxed noticeably. “No, he doesn’t know. If he did, he’d be here. He wouldn’t let you come out alone.”
Her heart pounded faster. “He’s right behind me. He’ll be here any minute with reinforcements.”
“I don’t think so.” Harvey smiled, displaying those perfect politician veneers. “I think he’s riding in a more northerly direction, toward those coulees where young Brady disappeared with Marlena. Now could you kindly put that rock down.”
She hesitated.
“Come on, Miss Townsend.” He waggled the gun at her. “Gun beats rock every time.”
When she still hesitated, he lifted the pistol and sighted it on her head.
She dropped the rock.
“That’s better.”
A wave of nausea and dizziness washed over her. The adrenaline. Her system was swimming in it. “What are you going to do?” she asked.
“Well, you’ve put me in a tough situation, Miss Townsend. I’m going to have to kill you both now.” He transferred the gun to his bloody hand, then stepped forward and grabbed her shirt with his clean glove.
Good. That was good. If he didn’t keep pressure on that wound, it would bleed freely.
“You know, this is almost better,” Harvey said conversationally. “Kill you, frame Cal.”
Frame Cal? Another wave of nausea washed over her with the fresh adrenaline surge. Oh God, that’s why he’d switched hands. He didn’t want to get his own blood on her. The forensics would mess up his frame job.
Keep talking, girl. Whatever happens, keep him talking. The more he talks, the more he’ll bleed. “Frame Cal?” She managed to get the words out around her nausea.
“Yeah, that’s the new plan. And because you’re responsible for screwing up my old plan, I’m going to tell you all about it so you can die knowing he’ll spend the next couple of decades behind bars for your murder.”
“No!”
“Yes.” He waggled the gun. “His gloves will leave distinct ligature marks when I choke you, I think, not to mention reek with your DNA on the outside and his on the inside. I’ll just drop one in my hurry to flee the scene.”
“But your DNA will be in them too.”
He smiled. “I took the precaution of wearing latex gloves.”
She was going to die and Cal would take the fall for it.
Keep him talking. “But why? Why set Cal up?”
He scowled. “Because he’s in the way.”
“What do you mean?”
“It didn’t have to be like this, you know. If he had just accepted my offer. It was very reasonable. Generous, even. I couldn’t offer anything too extravagant. That would have made him suspicious. And I almost had him too, when that pitiful guest ranch business went belly-up. If his father hadn’t come riding into town to rescue him, he’d have been knocking on my door, ready to ink a deal within weeks. A month or two at most.”
“You did poison that steer.”
“Of course I did. But it wasn’t enough to get Cal out of the way.”
Oh God, she wanted to hurl. Adrenaline wasn’t much good when you couldn’t use it. “What was he in the way of?”
“Progress.” Harvey’s teeth glinted. “Look around, Miss Townsend. From horizon to horizon, as far as you can see, I own it all. Or rather, my agents do. Wouldn’t have done to tip my hand.”
“All but this piece?”
“All but this piece,” he acknowledged.
“But it’s so small…Why do you need it?”
“I don’t. I just need Cal Taggart off it. I’m about to launch a development project, and I couldn’t afford to have him squawking about environmental concerns. Stubborn sonofabitch would have mobilized the ranchers. Then the politicians, who are already antsy, would start talking tougher legislation.” He smiled. “It’s nothing personal, Miss Townsend. I just couldn’t let the window of opportunity close on a billion dollars.”
He still held her head tilted at a difficult angle. Her throat ached, but with the relentless pressure on her scalp, she couldn’t shift to ease it. “What kind of development?”
“The lucrative kind. Do you have any idea how much a Hollywood actor or a Fortune 500 CEO would pay for a mini-ranch of his own right here in the shadow of the foothills? This is one of the most beautiful spots on earth.”
“You’d carve it up.”
“That’s the idea.”
“But you’re a rancher. How can you do that?”
He laughed. “A rancher? My dear, I’ve never been a rancher. That dirty, bloody operation will close its doors as soon as this deal is done.”
Cal had been wrong. Harvey wasn’t crazy, just greedy. Murder had been done for a lot less than a billion dollars.
Keep talking. But what more could she ask him? “The horse! I mean, what about your horse? Trey said it pulled up lame. How’d you accomplish that?”
“I wedged a rock in the frog of its hoof. Soon as Cal’s man rode off, I pried it out.”
Her heart sank. “So everyone would know exactly where you were, miles from the scene with no means of transportation.”
“Precisely. I’ll put the rock back in, of course, so everyone sees us come limping in.”
He seemed to relish his own cleverness. Could she feed that to keep him talking? “But the story abo
ut Brady abducting Marlena? Why did you make that up?”
“I wasn’t sure anyone would give a damn if that slut Marlena disappeared, besides the fool kid, of course. And I didn’t want them to assume she’d run back to the city. I needed someone to look for her, find her body while the evidence was fresh.”
“But Brady will contradict your story.”
“He’ll do nothing of the sort. He got an anonymous telephone call that’ll take him out to that old cabin Cal uses, where he’ll expect to surprise me and Marlena. When he fails to find either of us, he’ll ride back. Unfortunately, he’ll meet with an accident on the trail.”
“But he’s your son!”
Something flickered in Harvey’s eyes. “Well, if you know that much local gossip, then I’m sure you also know that he’s not my flesh and blood.”
“But you raised him,” Lauren said. “Cal told me you used to go to his practices and—”
Pain exploded in Lauren’s head. It took her a few seconds to process what had happened. He’d struck her with the pistol! She lifted a hand to her temple. It came away bloody.
“Couldn’t be helped,” he said gruffly. “He’s also the man banging Marlena regularly and therefore the only one I could manipulate.”
Dear Lord, that sweet boy, Brady, was going to die too. So many people…Maybe Harvey was crazy after all. “You’ll set Cal up for that murder too, I suppose?”
Harvey smiled. “You catch on quickly. Man kills his ex-wife and her current lover turns up dead? I think they’ll draw some conclusions. Of course, we’ll have to add you to the body count Cal is racking up. I’m not sure how they’ll explain that. I guess he just snapped.”
Lauren’s mind wanted to shut down in the face of all this horror, but she couldn’t let it. Think. Keep him talking.
“The telephone calls! The police will surely check the phone records, won’t they?”
“I certainly hope so. You see, I took the liberty of lifting the cell phone from Cal’s truck. Terrible habit, that, leaving your vehicle unlocked.”
Lauren’s heart sank still further.
“You know, I thought about doing you in the first place, since you and Cal are going so hot and heavy, but I couldn’t figure how to lure you out. That slut Marlena was so much easier.”
“You won’t get away with this.”
“I will,” he said calmly. Tightening his grip on her shirt, he dropped the pistol and shook off the bloody glove, leaving his right hand sheathed in latex.
Knowing what was coming, Lauren swung at him, striking him in the face.
He swore, then clamped both hands viciously on her throat.
His dark face swam in her vision as he continued to squeeze. She pulled at his hands, frantically trying to loosen his grip, but her arms felt like lead. Was she going to die here?
His injury! She needed to go for his most vulnerable spot. Dropping her left hand from his, she drove her fist into his side as hard as she could.
Screaming, he let go, reeled backward, fell to his knees.
Dragging in great, searing breaths, she staggered toward Buck, who reared his head back nervously, ears folded. If she could just get to him, she could get away. She’d run Harvey’s palomino off so he couldn’t overtake her on the exhausted Buck.
Wham! He tackled her from behind. She went down, but quickly rolled free. Then she was scrambling on hands and knees, blood pounding in her ears. If she could just reach Buck…
A hand closed on her ankle, dragging her backward. She screamed again, kicking wildly. A blow landed, and he cursed but didn’t let go. Then he was on his feet. The next instant he grabbed a handful of her hair and dragged her up to her knees.
“Bitch!”
Once more he closed his hands on her throat. Again she clutched at them to try to dislodge his grip, but to no avail. In what seemed like an impossibly short time, she felt the blackness closing in.
No! If she was going to die, there was no way she was going to let Cal be framed for it. She had to do something. Obviously that knife stick Marlena had given him was superficial, or he’d be a lot weaker by now. And it would be easy to hide. She needed to mark him in a way that couldn’t be so easily hidden.
She lifted her hands from his, and this time he angled his vulnerable side away. But instead of going for his wound, she raked her nails down his exposed face as hard as she could.
He howled with rage, lifting one hand to his face. It came away bloody.
“Explain that,” she croaked.
Searing pain exploded in her head and she fell sideways. He hit me. He actually punched me. Then he was on top of her, straddling her.
Before his hands could throttle her throat again, she said, “Bleeding on me.” She dragged in another breath. “Got your skin…under my nails. DNA…could be…hard to explain.”
A roar, followed by another smash. Hot pain exploded anew.
That’s it! she thought, her ears ringing. He could choke her to death in minutes, but if she could keep him angry, keep him hitting her, it would take longer. Maybe much longer. Maybe long enough for Marlena to wake the hell up, climb on her horse, and race away. Harvey’s plan to frame Cal would fall apart if Marlena could get away.
And if she didn’t wake up? If Harvey got Marlena too? What then?
Maybe the forensic evidence would implicate Harvey, if it got messy enough. Which came back to keeping him angry.
“What’s the matter?” She tried to laugh, but it came out more like a spluttering cough. “Is that the best you can do?”
“Shut up!” Another smash, this time to the right side of her head.
Oh God, it hurt. She closed her eyes, desperately wanting to curl in on herself, escape into some dark closet in her mind. She couldn’t let him hit her again. She couldn’t.
But she had to make him.
Remembering the line Zane Taggart had used after getting roughed up by the bull, she forced her eyes open. “Hell, Harvey, I’ve had worse knocks than that on the dance floor.”
Crack!
Harvey still straddled her, his chest heaving. Don’t hit me. Don’t hurt me. Please, I don’t want to die, is what she wanted to say. Instead she touched her broken lip with her tongue and said, “Better, but no points for style.”
Another roar. She closed her eyes, bracing for the blow, but it never fell. Suddenly, miraculously, Harvey’s weight was gone. She rolled over, ears ringing.
Then the noises of combat—scuffling, grunting, the sickening sound of fists hitting flesh—penetrated the ringing in her ears. She pushed herself up and squinted toward the commotion.
Cal! He’d come. And he was wrestling on the ground with Harvey. As she watched through eyes that still refused to focus, it seemed to her that Cal landed blow after blow. But Harvey was so much bigger. Cal needed her help.
Shakily she got to her feet and stumbled toward Cal’s mount. He always carried a rope. Maybe she could help restrain Harvey with it. Or maybe she’d just garrote him.
Sienna shied away from her but Lauren managed to catch the coil of rope and pull it free. When she turned back to the men, however, they’d sprung apart and were circling each other warily. Even in the fading light, she had no trouble discerning the dull gleam in Harvey’s hand. A knife! Oh God, the same Swiss Army knife she had given Marlena. Harvey must have located it as they rolled in the grass.
“Damn, I guess it’ll have to be a murder-suicide.” Harvey wiped his bloody mouth on his sleeve. “This is turning out to be damned hard work, but I’ve come too far to turn back now.”
“Cal!” It was a cry of fear, anguish.
Cal didn’t take his eyes off the knife. “Lauren, get on that horse and ride. Don’t stop until you’re home.”
“Cal…”
“Just do it,” Cal commanded.
Harvey spat what appeared to be a tooth into his hand and swore. “Fine with me. Let her make a run for it. I’ll catch her before she gets far. Right after I stick you.”
In a
blur of motion, he lashed out at Cal, who ducked and rolled. Harvey dove after him. Then the two of them were rolling on the ground, grappling for possession of the knife, their struggles bringing them closer to the brink of the cliff.
Lauren watched, frozen in horror, but the next lurch brought them back from the precipice. Harvey still had the knife. Cal fought like a berserker, but eventually Harvey, with his greater bulk, wound up on top, a heavy arm jammed across Cal’s windpipe.
“Say good-bye, Taggart,” Harvey panted. Lifting the knife high, he plunged it toward Cal’s heart in a deadly arc.
Only then did Lauren’s paralysis break. Sobbing, she staggered toward them.
In what seemed like slow motion, Lauren saw Cal twist violently, but the blade still bit into his chest. He grunted, but with a massive heave of his wiry body, he somehow dislodged Harvey, and the knife went flying.
Whimpering her relief, Lauren lurched toward the spot where the weapon had fallen. She dropped to her hands and knees and searched the grass frantically. If she could just find the knife, she’d happily bury it in Harvey McLeod’s back, and she’d aim for his black heart. At last, her fingers found the warm handle of the blade.
With a small cry of triumph, she turned back toward the fight only to see both men disappear over the cliff’s edge.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
One second he was free-falling and the next he was getting whipped by branches. Out of sheer, dumb luck, Cal managed to close his hands around a branch. But the tree, a scrawny poplar clinging to the cliff, was too slender. It tore away under his weight. This is it, he thought. I’m gonna die.
Then he slammed against the cliff face with a force that drove all the air from his lungs. Instinct alone kept his hands locked on the branch.
Jesus, don’t let me black out.
Fighting back pain and dizziness, he looked up. Shit. The tree now hung upside down, anchored by a few skinny roots that hadn’t sprung free. Just then another root snapped and the tree sagged a few more inches. Gravel rained on him as he scrabbled to find a toehold. With the pointed toe of his right boot, he found a small outcropping that helped bear a little of his weight, easing the burden on his arms. Not to mention the tree.
