by Jenna Ryan
Nikita had no desire to see the souvenir strands of hair that Deana had kept secreted in her safe. She saw Deana briefly, but Lally had been her first priority, and in any case, Deana didn’t want to talk to her. Still, here they all were and would apparently remain for several more hours.
“Don’t move from this door,” Vachon instructed the officer posted outside Deana’s room. “Even sedated, she’s dangerous.”
Nikita viewed the exchange from across the carpeted hallway, feeling vaguely removed from reality. A homicidal psychiatrist who murdered people then framed a patient for the crime—Deana was truly insane. How, Nikita berated herself for the hundredth time, could she possibly have missed seeing such an obvious thing?
“How’s Lally?” Vachon asked, joining her.
Nikita moved away from the wall. “She’s stopped singing. Marilyn gave her a pill. She should sleep through the night”
He paused to look at her. “Deana?”
She lowered her lashes, swamped with guilt and regret “In bad shape. I tried to talk to her. She shouted at me to get out. I learned a few things, though. Do you want to hear them?”
“If it’ll help.”
The words were solemnly spoken. Yet always that gentle hint of mystery lurked in the depths of his dark eyes.
Son of a magician, Nikita reflected, aware of her muscles beginning to unknot for the first time in hours. They must have a knack for seduction. Before today she hadn’t been able to see her career with him; now she couldn’t see her life without him.
Shaking herself, Nikita explained, “Deana used thiopental—it’s a particularly strong barbiturate—to disorient her victims. As far as I can gather, she told Patti and Tom she was giving them a vitamin shot I think she just jabbed Laverne. However she drugged them, once her victims were good and spacy, she was able to do whatever she wanted with them.”
“Persuade them to obey her orders?” Vachon asked.
“To a degree.”
Vachon jammed his hands in his coat pockets, as if to prevent himself from touching her. Nikita found that oddly charming. “Why those three people, Niki?” he asked.
“The best I can figure is that she saw Laverne and Martin arrive together that first night. I’m sure she already knew about the affair, but suddenly there was her golden opportunity. Laverne was bound to try to sneak in through the cellar entrance, and with all the confusion up here, we weren’t likely to miss anyone, even Deana, for half an hour or so.”
“So she took Laverne outside and killed her in a place that would be considered separate from Beldon-Drake. Did she want the hospital shut down?”
“Not while she was in charge, no. But insanity’s far from rational, Vachon. She had things to prove to herself as well as to Dean.”
Tears burned hotly in the back of Nikita’s eyes. She wished she could cry but knew she wasn’t ready for that quite yet.
Sensing her mood, Vachon reached up to stroke the hair from her cheek. “Why don’t we go to your apartment, Niki? I know a great remedy for shock. A little concoction my grandmother used to brew up after the servants went to bed.” He paused. “Just tell me one thing first. You know Deana better than I do.”
“I thought I did,” Nikita murmured, then shored up her defenses. “Okay, shoot.”
“Why frame Talia?”
Nikita allowed herself to be drawn toward the staircase. “It was a power thing. That’s not very technical, but it’s essentially true in Deana’s case. She was determined to control someone the way she felt she’d been controlled for so much of her life. There was a risk factor involved in Lally’s visions, but Deana’s not a great believer in psychic ability. She drugged Lally, then sat beside her bed and described the intended murder scene to her. At least I think that’s how it went. Deana was so busy yelling at me when I saw her that I’m not sure how coherent or truthful she was being.”
“And the day I found Lally sitting next to the snowman?”
“Why did Lally go out there, you mean? Deana described the death scenes to her while Lally was heavily sedated—drugged from her hot chocolate. While Lally slept, Deana killed. When Lally woke up after that third murder, her subconscious probably urged her to visit the scene. After all, she built the original Beast”
“So Deana drugged Lally then planted personal effects from the victims in her room and left the rest to us.” Vachon took a frustrated swat at the air. “Some great cop I am. I thought the killer was Flynn.”
“I understand your suspecting Donald. Do you know if he was doing his weird experiments on Patti?”
“We’ll delve into that aspect further, but I don’t think there was any danger involved. Response to stimulus or whatever you call it, Flynn seems genuinely fascinated by human nature, especially with regard to attitude. It’s also quite possible that he was the father of Patti’s unborn child.”
“What about Manny? He knew about Deana, didn’t he?”
Vachon shrugged. “He loved her, Nikita.” His eyes stared intently into hers. “Can you understand how it must feel to see someone you love slipping away from you?”
She softened at his somber expression. “If you’re comparing his feelings for Deana with yours for your grandmother,” she said, touching his face, “don’t. It isn’t a valid parallel. Manny knew what Deana was doing. Maybe not the whole time, but he figured it out and never said a word to you or to anyone.”
“He didn’t know for sure until after Tom Pratt was killed, Niki.”
“He should have told you about his suspicions anyway. As for your grandmother, her doctor might have participated in her decline, but I don’t believe that anyone should put his or her life entirely in someone else’s hands. We’re here to help, Vachon, not take contr—” She stopped and squeezed her eyes closed. “You know what I mean.”
“If he doesn’t, he’s a blind fool,” a familiar voice snorted.
Nikita’s eyes sprang open. She hadn’t heard the elevator arrive or Adeline clomp out in her snow-covered mukluks.
“Hell of a night out there,” she announced, thrusting her cane at Vachon so she could set her cold hands on Nikita’s arms. “You look shaky, Niki. Let it go, girl. It’s done. You can’t change any of it Won’t do you a speck of good to brood.”
A lump climbed into Nikita’s throat “I should have—”
“No, you shouldn’t. You weren’t going to see anything she didn’t want you to see. You of all people know what clever disguises insanity can don. I repeat, let it go.” She flapped a hand. “Oh, take her home, Vachon. Talk if you have to, but don’t wallow in hindsight or foolish regrets. Things happen in life. We can only accept them and move on from there. Ninety-three years on this planet hasn’t taught me as much as you might think, but it’s taught me that lesson very well. We carry on because we have to.”
Nikita gave up and leaned into Vachon’s strong, warm body. It felt right, somehow, rejuvenating and good. Maybe Adeline had a point, at that.
“What about the hospital?” her grandmother demanded of Vachon. “Will the authorities close it down?”
“It’s a distinct possibility.”
“Sherman Drake’s flying in from Borneo,” Nikita told them. “He’ll be here sometime tomorrow.”
“Who’s in charge till then?” Adeline wanted to know. “You?”
“Not a chance, Gran. Dr. Gillespie from the state medical board arrived half an hour ago.”
“Huh.” Adeline sniffed. “A lot he’ll know about your patients.”
Nikita smiled. “Dr. Gillespie’s a woman, extremely experienced. She was the best lecturer in med school.”
“If you say so.” Adeline drew a rectangular package from her oversize coat pocket. “Present for you, Niki. Now tell me where Martin is so I can jolt him out of the stupor he’s bound to be in.”
“Try the arboretum.” Nikita unwrapped the package and saw Vachon’s uncomprehending frown. She couldn’t prevent a small laugh from slipping out. “A mirror?”
“Y
up.” Adeline retrieved her cane and began marching down the corridor. “Take a good long look into it and let me know the wedding date. June’s best, in my opinion.”
Vachon waited until the thud of her stick on the carpet faded, then faced Nikita with politely raised brows. “Am I supposed to guess, or are you going to tell me?”
It amazed Nikita how much of her tension vanished with that single question. The glint in his dark eyes didn’t hurt, either. Not quite humorous, not entirely somber, he merely stared at her and waited. Did that mean he’d reached the same conclusions as she had?
She slid the mirror into her pocket, then placed her palms flat on his chest. “I want to try and help Deana,” she told him.
The glint deepened as his right hand rose to cup the back of her neck. “I thought you might,” he murmured. “Now what was that Adeline said about a wedding?”
Nikita tipped her head back. Amusement sparkled in her eyes. “Figure it out, Vachon. You’re the cop.”
His fingers caressed her skin, then slowly brought her mouth to meet his. “I figured it out quite a while ago, Niki. No more living in the past. No illusions. Just a bit of magic and a lot of love.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck. “The love part’s easy, Vachon. The rest might need some work. But I’m willing to try if you are.” Her smile widened as she rose to meet him halfway. “For once I agree with Gran. Start at the beginning and go forward from there.”
As his mouth covered hers, Nikita knew that for perhaps the first time in both their lives they were the sole masters—of a dance that belonged entirely to them.
Epilogue
And so you see, dearest Diary, that was how it began—and how it ended. Or I should say, how everyone thought it would end. There is, I regret to say, one small detail that still needs clearing up.
Not Nikita’s fault in any way. I make that point even as I ditch my pill and prepare to deal with this final problem. Not anyone’s fault, except…
The woman writing paused, then laid her pen on the desk. Lally wanted her to do it Now. For a mouse, she could be incredibly pushy. On the other hand, she had a point. Revenge should always be undertaken swiftly.
Swiping the keys had been a piece of cake. Marilyn wouldn’t miss them for another thirty minutes. It wouldn’t require much more ingenuity to distract the police officer at the door. Mr. Bedrosian could be most compliant when it came to indulging his mischievous whims. He seldom slept. Slip him a clay blob from the crafts room, and he’d launch it through the nearest window within ten seconds.
She waited in the shadows until he’d done precisely that, watched as the guard hesitated before responding to the ruckus down the hall, then, using the stolen keys, let herself into the room.
It was small and square, furnished only with a bed and a chair. A high barred window showed the fury of the blizzard. Too bad she couldn’t stuff her quarry inside a snowman until the spring thaw, but that would be far too complicated a task.
Instead, she arched fine blond eyebrows as she approached the bed. “I see they’ve sedated you,” she noted pleasantly. “That was kind of them.” Her eyes chilled until they resembled green ice. “How do you feel, Dr. D.? A bit disoriented? Well, that’s to be expected, I should think.”
Deana stared mutely. It wasn’t until she saw the flash of steel that she raised her hands, presumably to ward off the blow.
“No, please,” she whimpered. “Lally—Talia, don’t!”
The blade found its mark with a vindictive thrust.
When it was done, Deana lay motionless, her startled brown eyes wide and staring, filled with a horror she’d needed to experience firsthand.
Talia dusted off her palms and regarded the corpse innocently. “I am what you tried to make me. You set me up as a murderer, Bright Eyes. You framed me. You told me I killed all those people when it was you all along.” An elfin smile stole across her lips. “Too bad you never quite figured me out. I dance, it’s true, but I’m no one’s master. I simply do what I’m told—and then I leave. Pinocchio on a mission.”
Still smiling, she turned and tapped a path to the door, singing softly as she went. “On the good ship Lally-pop…”
eISBN: 978-14592-6177-8
THE ARMS OF THE LAW
Copyright © 1998 by Jenna Ryan
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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Printed In U.S.A.
Table of Contents
Cover Page
Table of Contents
Excerpt
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Books by Jenna Ryan
Dedication
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Epilogue
Copyright
