by Edie Claire
Torr flinched with annoyance, but his gun remained trained on Mason. "Shut up!" he snarled.
But Cara appeared beyond hearing. The Tarzan call was followed by an ear-splitting stream of gibberish as she moved in a wild, zigzagging fashion toward the back of her car.
She's hysterical, Leigh thought with renewed alarm. And she was going to be shot.
The gunman remained cool, but growled irritably as he swung his head a few degrees toward Cara.
It was all the distraction Mason needed. In a flash of movement, he wound up his arm and heaved the backpack. Torr recovered almost instantly, pulling the trigger just as the heavy pack slammed against his arm. The exploding weapon fell out of Torr's hands, and as a diving Mason plowed into his knees, both men fell roughly to the ground.
Leigh jumped forward, her eyes focused on the pistol that lay only a yard from where Torr was struggling to his feet. She reached it in an instant and kicked it as hard as she could. The gunman watched and swore as his weapon skittered across the rough asphalt and disappeared under the Saturn.
"Run!" Mason commanded, grappling with his opponent's long legs to hold him.
Purple with rage, Torr turned his attention away from the gun and fell full-force on Mason's chest, knocking them both almost underneath the still-running Toyota. He grabbed for his opponent's neck and encircled it with his long fingers. "Die," he growled.
Mason made one short, sharp choking sound, and then became quiet. Torr's white knuckles quivered with pressure as they clamped on the other man's throat, and Leigh held her own breath as Mason's complexion turned. Cara swooped in behind her father's head, pulling at the offending hands with all her might, but to no avail. Mason's struggles began to weaken.
Leigh stepped forward and aimed a vicious kick at Torr's thigh, but the blow earned only a wince, and since he was on top of Mason, his more vulnerable targets were out of range. For a moment, Leigh thought she could hear sirens approaching, but the sound was quickly drowned out by an angry bellow from Torr, who had apparently taken the full complement of Cara's teeth in his left wrist.
He reared his head against hers and knocked her aside with a resounding whack, and as Cara fell backwards in a daze, Leigh's eyes caught sight of the fallen backpack. It had stopped to rest just in front of the Saturn, and in an instant she had collected it, heavy plates in tow.
Whether Torr could hear the same sirens she did was unclear, but given the noise from the unmuffled Toyota engine and his single-minded effort to strangle a man to death, she doubted it. He showed no signs of letting go, and Mason was no longer moving.
She bundled the canvas tightly over the heavy metal plates inside, raised the pack over her head, and brought it down on Torr's.
A second later, his limp frame rolled to the side.
All at once the police seemed to be everywhere, and for a moment Leigh found she couldn't move. Then a strong hand clamped down on her shoulder. "You all right?" Maura asked loudly, looking her over.
Leigh nodded. Uniformed officers were swarming over the two men, and as she stepped closer to where Mason lay she was relieved to see Cara kneeling beside him, her forehead bruised, but her eyes alert. She looked up at Leigh uneasily.
Mason still wasn't moving.
Chapter 24
"Are you all right?" Leigh asked her cousin as a team of EMTs began to labor over Mason. Cara seemed calm enough, but her voice was disturbingly ethereal. "Of course I am. Are you?"
Leigh nodded, wondering if Cara's serenity was merely the backside of her earlier hysteria. A gurgled sputtering noise issued from the ground, and they both returned their attention to Mason.
"He's breathing," A heavyset female EMT announced.
Leigh exhaled, her body seeming to crumple in a rush of relief. Cara started to move forward, but the EMTs pushed her back. "Stand clear, Ma'am. We need room to work."
A dull moaning sound escaped from inside the other circle of uniforms, and within seconds it had escalated into Torr's full voice, erupting with a venomous string of threats. As the police struggled to subdue their charge, Leigh took her motionless cousin by the shoulders and pulled her away from the fray. Now that she knew everyone was breathing, the big picture was coming back with a big question mark. "Cara," she began disbelievingly. "What are you doing here alone? Where's Dan?"
It took a moment for Cara's eyes to focus back on Leigh, but when they did, she seemed coherent enough. "He's with Ed. We saw the car—" she inclined her head in the direction of the Tempo, "Peel out, but I couldn't tell who was in it. Just when we noticed the two of you weren't in the Saturn, Ed came crawling down the sidewalk. Dan forced him to lie down on the ground and I called an ambulance—but then I saw the blue car taking off." She nodded at the Toyota. "I got a pretty good look that time, and I knew it was Torr. I also knew he had to be chasing you and Mason."
Leigh's eyebrows rose. "So you jumped in the Saturn and started following him? By yourself?"
Cara looked at her as though she weren't very bright. "Well, what else was I supposed to do? Somebody had to keep Ed from losing any more blood, and I certainly couldn't pin the man down. And the police couldn't possibly get there quick enough to follow Torr. So I figured I would just tail him and report where he was going, which I did."
Cara's eyes fixed once more on Mason as the EMS team swarmed over him, a stretcher now at the ready. "Should we have someone look at that bruise on your head?" Leigh probed, still worried about her cousin's mental state. It didn't seem right that she could have gone from hysteria to attack mode to normalcy in the space of a few minutes, particularly with a blow to the noggin. "I think it might be a good idea—I mean, with everything that's happened, considering how upset you got back there…"
Cara's gaze turned quickly back on her cousin, and she shook her head in disbelief. "Oh, for heaven's sake, Leigh. I thought that raving female thing only worked on men." As she watched her cousin's startled look, she gave a small, but halfway merry, laugh. "You never did give me any credit as an actress. Still ticked off about that Homecoming thing, aren’t you?"
Leigh was spared a response as Maura Polanski pushed her way through the ring of EMS workers around Mason. After a few words, she backed up and approached the women, her face relatively upbeat. "Looks like he's coming around," she said evenly. "He'll need some attention for a while, but Ruth thinks he's going to make it just fine, and Ruth knows her stuff."
Leigh smiled with relief. She expected a similar reaction from her cousin, but Cara simply stood still, watching as the team loaded Mason onto the stretcher. As they lifted it up and toward the ambulance, a sudden high-pitched yowl cut through the air, followed quickly by the appearance of two skinny fawn-colored paws next to Mason on the edge of the stretcher. "Money?" a gravelly voice croaked. "That you, boy?"
Leigh jumped forward and pulled the greyhound down, securing him with an arm wrapped firmly about his muscular chest. "Yes, it's him," she answered, grinning at Mason's off-color face. "We'll take care of him. You're going to be fine, too."
Mason had no chance to answer. The EMS team moved briskly toward the ambulance, and in another instant, he was gone. Leigh returned to Cara and sank down on the ground, her arms still around the greyhound. She didn't think he would go anywhere, but the truth was that her legs had started wobbling.
"The dog was in the car the whole time?" she asked incredulously.
"Cowering in the floor under the dashboard," Cara answered distractedly. "I tried to get him out, but he wouldn't budge."
"This dog belong to one of you?"
Leigh looked up to see a tall, pale man in plain clothes clutching a pocket notebook.
"I'm taking care of him," Cara replied.
He nodded and extended his hand. Cara shook it. "Gerry Frank, City Homicide."
Leigh remained rooted to the spot, the bottom half of her body feeling at one with the cold pavement as the man met her eyes and offered one of his familiar, lopsided, crocodile smiles. She sighed. As if fleei
ng from an assassin wasn't enough for one night.
"Leigh Koslow," he said with a nod. "Glad to see you made it through this one."
She tried to smile back. Really, she did. "Frank," she said flatly. She considered herself a forgiving person, but it was hard to forget someone who had once falsely arrested her for murder—even if he had apologized afterwards.
"Okay, women," Maura broke in loudly. And, Leigh couldn't help but notice, a bit nervously. "I know you're probably anxious to follow the ambulance to the hospital, but we need to go over a few things first."
She and Frank took turns questioning Leigh and Cara, and when finally the detectives seemed satisfied, the cousins loaded the greyhound into the Saturn and prepared to take off. But where they were going, Leigh wasn't sure. Cara put the keys in the ignition, then she simply sat.
"You sure you're okay to drive?" Leigh asked hesitantly.
Cara didn't look at her. She maintained the same, quiet coolness she had shown ever since the police arrived. "You know," she said suddenly. "When I stepped out of the car earlier, I didn't know how he would react. I didn't really know what I was going to do, either."
Leigh nodded, willing her cousin to continue. Where her mind had been since she had learned the whole truth about her father, Leigh could only guess. She certainly had not showed the relieved happiness Leigh had expected upon finding out about his clandestine visits. But with Cara, one never knew. Perhaps it was all just taking a while to sink in. Hadn't she just risked her life for the man?
"But then I saw the look on his face," she continued. "He saw me, and he looked terrified. Mortified, actually. He seemed angry that I was there. He was acting like…"
Her voice drifted off, and Leigh cut in. "Like a father," she finished. "He was acting like a father who was afraid for his daughter. And mad at himself for putting her in danger in the first place."
Cara's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Perhaps…"
She was interrupted by the melodious beeping of her cell phone, which was stashed in her purse by Leigh's feet. Leaning over, she retrieved it. "Hello?" She listened a moment but didn’t respond, her eyes still distant and distracted. "Here," she said finally, handing the phone to her cousin. "It's your husband. He wants to know where you've been all evening."
***
How much time had passed, Leigh wasn't sure. They had waited outside the emergency room at Allegheny Central for what seemed like hours, but probably wasn't. Time always seemed to drag when you were waiting for news, particularly when no one seemed to feel like talking.
Lydie and Frances sat stiffly and silently next to each other. They looked even more alike than usual, Leigh thought idly, because Lydie's eyes were for once every bit as anxious as Frances's always were. Randall was sitting by his wife's side, making a valiant effort to read an eight-month-old copy of Better Homes and Gardens, and Gil was rooted to the next chair by a sleeping Mathias, who had passed out half over his father's arm and half over the adjacent end table. Warren had gone to bring everyone something to eat, and Leigh sat, fidgeting, by herself. Torr was in custody, true, and the initial information they had gotten seemed to indicate that Mason's near-strangulation wouldn't cause any lasting effects. But somehow the worst didn't seem over. Not with Cara pacing back and forth like a specter.
The double doors of the waiting room entrance suddenly swung open, admitting Maura Polanski's considerable form. She nodded at the assembled family members and made a beeline for Leigh. "Any news?" she asked, sitting down.
Leigh shook her head. "What's happening on your end?"
Maura's cheeks had that odd pink glow again. "Well, Torrence Bagley's not the talkative type. But it won't matter. We have two witnesses to his attempt to kill Mason. Then there's the shot he took at your bodyguard, not to mention the shooting at your apartment."
Leigh sat up. "How is Ed?" She had heard that his wound wasn't life-threatening, but she was swamped with guilt that he had gotten hurt at all. Sure, it was a job, but if she hadn't insisted on leaving the car…
"I just talked to him," Maura answered. "His girlfriend was with him, and he seemed pretty perky. He told me in confidence that he'd been hurt plenty worse playing football—but didn't get near as much sympathy."
Leigh smiled in relief.
"Anyway," Maura continued, "add the shootings here to all the stuff the ATF guys have been working on, and our buddy Torr will be going away for a long, long time."
Leigh nodded. She could easily make it through the rest of her life without laying another eye on Jagger-lips. "And Mason? Is he in trouble?"
Maura tilted her head in a half shrug. "That's iffy. We suspect he was planning to sell the counterfeiting plates, but we don't know that money changed hands for that purpose. There's possession, but since ATF will need Mason to testify against Torr for the bomb sale, I don't think it'll be an issue."
"Polanski?" A voice called from the door. "Can I talk to you?"
Somewhere in the depths of Leigh's mind, a very tiny, but very irritating, alarm began to sound. Polanski. It was the voice. The voice she had been trying so hard to identify. It had picked up Maura's phone when Leigh had called her on election night.
Gerald Frank.
"Yeah," Maura responded, rising. Then she looked at Leigh. "What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost."
Leigh rose slowly to her feet, staring at her friend in horror. Maura…and Detective Frank! He was forty years old if he was a day, his hair was already white, and sure—he seemed honest and had that rapier sarcastic wit, but still…he had arrested her!
"Koslow?" Maura repeated, sounding a little anxious this time. "Something wrong?"
She was saved from answering by Warren, who had pushed past Detective Frank with a load of drinks and snacks. He took one look at Frank, Maura, and Leigh and immediately inserted himself between the two women. "Here are your cheese curls," he said cheerfully, handing his wife a bag. "And Mo, don't have any BBQ chips, but how about a root beer? Your favorite, on the house."
"No thanks," Maura looked worriedly at Leigh for another moment, then turned toward the door. "I'll be around for a while yet if you need me." Frank held the door open, and they walked out together.
Warren delivered the remainder of the tray's contents to Frances and Lydie, then grabbed both his wife's hands and sat her down.
"Frank—" Leigh began weakly.
"Yes, I know," he interrupted. "He arrested you. We've heard. But he's not a bad guy, really. And Maura says he makes her laugh. So this is a good thing. Right?"
"But—"
"Have you noticed how happy she's been?"
"But—"
"Well, have you?"
"Yes, but—" Leigh stopped herself. Maura had seemed pretty darned happy.
"Dublin Family?" A short, dark-complected man with a Middle-Eastern accent had entered the room from the other end, and all eyes fastened on him at once. "That's us," Lydie answered. Cara stopped pacing, but said nothing. Everyone but Gil rose.
"I am Dr. Paydar," the man said pleasantly. "Mr. Dublin is awake now. He is a very lucky man. If he had gone much longer without oxygen, I'm afraid we might be talking about brain damage—or worse. But so far there's no evidence of any permanent injury. Just some bruising of the throat and a mild concussion—evidently from his head striking the pavement." The doctor frowned slightly. "He had a previous bullet wound in his arm; we've treated that too, of course."
"Then he'll recover?" Lydie asked, her face still tight.
Dr. Paydar smiled patiently. "He'll be good as new…as long as there are no more bullets. You can see him now, but only one at a time. He was asking for…"
It seemed as though they all leaned forward, waiting for him to remember the name. Would he ask to see Cara? And if he did, would she even go?
"Leigh," the doctor finished triumphantly. "Is there a Leigh here?"
Leigh stepped up hesitantly. She threw a glance at Cara, but her cousin wouldn't meet her eyes. "That's me."
/> The doctor waved her through the door, and she followed him to a partially open cubicle where Mason lay on a stretcher, his upper arm bandaged and his face pale and splotchy. His eyes, now disturbingly bloodshot, watched her approach with apprehension as he struggled to lift his head. "Are you two all right?" he asked.
His voice wasn't as weak as she had expected, but his lips were tight with pain. She motioned for him to relax. "Don't try to roll your head around. It hurts." She smiled. "I know these things."
"But are—"
"We're fine," she interrupted. "Cara's fine. Lydie and Frances and Randall are all out in the lobby with her—plus Gil and Mathias, of course. And you thought you weren't popular."
He smiled, but only a little. "Does she—Do you think she wants—"
"Does your daughter want to see you?" Leigh finished.
He nodded stiffly, then seemed to change his mind. "No, never mind. She wouldn't."
Leigh smiled. "Rule number one of Cara Dublin March: never try to guess what she's thinking," she chastised good-naturedly. "You'll be wrong, and it'll only tick her off anyway. She likes to be unpredictable."
He looked at her in confusion. "So you think—"
"I think you need to find out how she feels for yourself," Leigh said firmly. "You should have called her in here, not me."
He seemed to consider a moment. She watched various emotions flicker across his eyes, not the least of which was sheer panic, and a chuckle escaped her. "Mason Dublin," she taunted. "You mean to tell me you had no problem facing an armed assassin in a dark alley, but you're scared to death of a good, old-fashioned, female tongue-lashing?"
He looked at her in guilty misery, and she laughed out loud.
"You don't understand," he protested. "She's got to be furious at me for not being there—all those years. Even if she has been told why."
