Payback

by Fern Michaels

  The occupants clustered into a tight knot on the terrace as they watched the two women follow Murphy. Alexis moved off to the side of the little group to watch the reaction of her sisters.

  It was Julia Webster but it wasn’t Julia Webster. The woman standing in front of them appeared to be in her late sixties with stooped shoulders, snow white hair and bright blue eyes. She was dressed for traveling in a cream colored suit. Wire rim glasses perched on her nose. She smiled and she was suddenly Julia Webster again. “What do you think? Even I didn’t recognize myself when Alexis got through with me. Can I have a beer? I’ll take a cigarette, too. By the way, I am now Penelope Tremaine. I have a driver’s license, a Visa card, a Master Card, an American Express card and a passport to attest to my new identity, thanks to Charles.”

  Yoko stumbled all over herself and then giggled as she rushed into the house for more beer and cigarettes. She handed them over with a flourish. “Down the hatch!”

  “Don’t mind her, she’s tipsy,” Kathryn said.

  “It’s a nice memory to take with me.” Julia smiled. “Listen, do all of you mind if I take a walk through the house one last time. Alone.”

  Heads bobbed up and down. Julia moved off, gliding across the terrace and through the open French doors.

  Nikki chewed on her lower lip. Kathryn puffed furiously on a cigarette dangling from her lips. Yoko cried openly as Isabelle blew her nose. Myra clung to Charles’s arm, her whole body shaking. Charles stared off into the distance as Murphy prowled the terrace from end to end.

  “Is she going to be all right or not?” Kathryn growled.

  “I don’t know, Kathryn. I can’t lie to you. The treatment is experimental. It’s the only chance she has. We’ll know in time.”

  “She doesn’t have time, Charles,” Nikki whispered.

  “Yes, she does. How much, I can’t say. She’ll fly through the night and when she arrives in Switzerland, she’ll be met by the best team of doctors and nurses in the world. Thanks to Her Majesty. Listen to me now. Even if it kills you, I want smiles. I want cheerful words. I want happiness. I want Julia to leave here with that memory. Do you understand?”

  “The car is here, I can see the headlights,” Isabelle said.

  The sisters turned to see Julia outlined in the doorway. She, too, had seen the headlights. She backed her way into the kitchen. More attuned to Julia than the others, Kathryn dropped her beer and ran into the kitchen to see Julia looking at the plant on the windowsill. She sucked in her breath.

  “You better not cry, Julia, or all that shit on your face is going to melt. The plant’s alive. We saved it, and look, it’s going to get a new leaf any day now. We gave it life, Julia. You and me.”

  “Don’t let it die, Kathryn. Please.”

  “I promise. When you get back that plant is going to be as healthy as you will be. That’s a Kathryn Lucas promise.”

  “That’s good enough for me. Charles said we could call one another. You’ll keep me posted on the plant.”

  “I will.”

  “I have to go now. I didn’t think this was going to be so hard. What am I going to do without all of you?”

  “You’re going to be pretty busy, Julia. Go on now so we can all bawl our eyes out.” Julia hugged her. Kathryn turned and kissed her on the cheek. “Go on, beat it.” She stood at the kitchen window and watched as Julia said her good-byes. She held up until Murphy trotted over to Julia and put his huge paws on her shoulders to balance himself. He nuzzled her neck and growled deep in his throat. Kathryn dropped to her knees, her hands covering her mouth so she wouldn’t howl as loud as Murphy.

  And then Julia was gone.

  Epilogue

  Midnight. The witching hour.

  Charles took center stage. The others waited for him to speak. They all pretended not to notice how gruff and hoarse his voice was. “I’m optimistic where Julia is concerned. She’s going to the right place for her now. Having said that, I suggest we leave Julia’s chair empty for now. We’re going to take a brief hiatus after we choose the next mission. Does anyone have anything to say before we begin?”

  “I do,” Nikki said, standing up. “Since you all left it up to me to decide who should get what of the Monarch monies, I made a decision. I awarded a $1.2 million-grant to the Justice Agency. A hundred thousand dollars a year. It’s a brand spanking new agency headed up by ex-FBI agent Mark Lane and ex-ADA Jack Emery. If they file all the reports the way they’re supposed to, we can keep tabs on them as they are keeping tabs on us. Win win, ladies.”

  “Bravo, Nikki!” Isabelle said. “I see it now, we’re at loggerheads and it’s male versus female. We’re winning! They’re no match for us.” Yoko threw a pencil at her.

  “It’s been a month since…since the Monarchs and the senator were spirited away. Is there any news? Are you going to tell us where they are and how they’re doing? Did you really send them off wearing loin cloths and…whatever that thing was Mrs. Monarch was wearing?” Kathryn asked.

  Charles allowed himself a brief smile. “That thing was a muu-muu. I like to think of them as our guests. They are in Africa working on a farm. They get paid twenty-five cents a week. A week, not a day. When they arrived in Africa, they were whisked away to a clinic where all four of them were hypnotized and sent on their way. They believe they belong on the farm and have no recall about their lives here in the States. They will be evaluated from time to time. Their health will be seen to. I understand their appetites are hearty. Their futures have been taken care of. Any other questions?”

  “In that case,” Myra said, “let’s get on with it.” She reached for the shoe box and moved it in front of Nikki. “Choose a name, dear.”

  Nikki drew in a deep breath and reached for the square of white paper with a printed name on it. She unfolded it, opened it and announced: “Myra.”

  Myra slumped back in her seat as the others leaped off their chairs to gather around to congratulate her. She was teary eyed as she hugged the women who had become like daughters to her. “Is it really my turn?”

  “You bet your sweet bippie it is,” Kathryn said.

  “Nice going, Nik.”

  Nikki turned around so she was facing the wall. “Is it OK, Barb?”

  “More than OK. See ya upstairs. Willie’s waiting for me.”

  Myra looked up at Nikki and smiled. “It’s my turn, Nikki. At last.”

  Nikki nodded. “We’ll do our best to make it come out right, Myra.”

  “I know that, dear. I know that.”

  Don’t miss any of the novels in

  Fern Michaels’s thrilling new

  Sisterhood series!

  Read on for a special excerpt from

  WEEKEND WARRIORS

  (Kathryn’s story), available now.

  It was dusk when Nikki Quinn stopped her cobalt-blue BMW in front of the massive iron gates of Myra Rutledge’s McLean estate. She pressed the remote control attached to the visor and waited for the lumbering gates to slide open. She knew Charles was watching her on the closed-circuit television screen. The security here at the estate was sophisticated, high-tech, impregnable. The only thing missing was concertina wire along the top of the electrified fence.

  Nikki sailed up the half mile of cobblestones to the driveway that led around to the back of the McLean mansion. When she was younger, she and Barbara referred to the house as Myra’s Fortress. She’d loved growing up here, loved riding across the fields on Barbara’s horse Starlite, loved playing with Barbara in the tunnels underneath the old house that had once been used to aid runaway slaves.

  The engine idling, Nikki made no move to get out of the car. She hated coming here these days, hated seeing the empty shell her beloved Myra had turned into. All the life, all the spark had gone out of her. According to Charles, Myra sat in the living room, drinking tea, staring at old photo albums, the television tuned to CNN twenty-four hours a day. She hadn’t left the house once since Barbara’s funeral.

  She finally
turned off the engine, gathered her briefcase, weekend bag and purse. Should she put the top up or leave it down? The sky was clear. She shrugged. If it looked like rain, Charles would put the top up.

  “Any change?” she asked walking into the kitchen.

  Charles shook his head before he hugged her. “She’s gone downhill even more these last two weeks. I hate saying this, but I don’t think she even noticed you weren’t here, Nikki.”

  Nikki flinched. “I couldn’t get here, Charles. I had to wait for a court verdict. I must have called a hundred times,” Nikki said, tossing her gear on the countertop. Her eyes pleaded with Myra’s houseman for understanding.

  Charles Martin was a tall man with clear crystal blue eyes and a shock of white hair that was thick and full. Once he’d been heavier but this past year had taken a toll on him, too. She noticed the tremor in his hand when he handed her a cup of coffee.

  “Is she at least talking, Charles?”

  “She responds if I ask her a direct question. Earlier in the week she fired me. She said she didn’t need me anymore.”

  “My God!” Nikki sat down at the old oak table with the claw feet. Myra said the table was over three hundred years old and hand-hewn. As a child, she’d loved eating in the kitchen. Loved sitting at the table drinking cold milk and eating fat sugar cookies. She looked around. There didn’t seem to be much life in the kitchen these days. The plants didn’t seem as green, the summer dishes were still in the pantry, the winter place-mats were still on the table. Even the braided winter rugs were still on the old pine floors. In the spring, Myra always changed them. She blinked. “This kitchen looks like an institution kitchen, Charles. The house is too quiet. Doesn’t Myra play her music anymore?”

  “No. She doesn’t do anything anymore. I tried to get her to go for a walk today. She told me to get out of her face. I have to fight with her to take a shower. I’m at my wit’s end. I don’t know what to do anymore. This is no way to live, Nikki.”

  “Maybe it’s time for some tough love. Let me see if she responds to me this evening. By the way, what’s for dinner?”

  “Rack of lamb. Those little red potatoes you like, and fresh garden peas. I made a blackberry cobbler just for you. But when you’re not here, I end up throwing it all away. Myra nibbled on a piece of toast today.” Charles threw his hands in the air and stomped over to the stove to open the oven door.

  Nikki sighed. She straightened her shoulders before she marched into the living room where Myra was sitting on the sofa. She bent down to kiss the wrinkled cheek. “Did you miss me, Myra?”

  “Nikki! It’s nice to see you. Of course, I missed you. Sit down, dear. Tell me how you are. Is the law firm doing nicely? How’s our softball team doing? Are you still seeing that assistant district attorney?” Her voice trailed off to nothing as she stared at the television set whose sound was on mute.

  Nikki sat down and reached for the remote control. “I hope you don’t mind if I switch to the local station. I want to see the news.” She turned the volume up slightly.

  “Let’s see. Yes, I’m still seeing Jack, and the firm is doing wonderfully. We have more cases than we can handle. The team is in fourth place. I’m fine but I worry about you, Myra. Charles is worried about you, too.”

  “I fired Charles.”

  “I know, but he’s still here. He has nowhere to go, Myra. You have to snap out of this depression. I can arrange some grief counseling sessions for you. You need a medical checkup. You have to let it go, Myra. You can’t bring Barbara back. I can’t stand seeing you like this. Barbara wouldn’t approve of the way you’re grieving. She always said life is for the living.”

  “I never heard her say any such thing. I can’t let it go. She’s with me every minute of every day. There’s nothing to live for. The bastard who killed my daughter robbed my life as well. He’s out there somewhere living a good life. If I could just get my hands on him for five minutes, I would…”

  “Myra, he’s back in his own country. Shhh, listen. That man,” Nikki said pointing to the screen, “was set free today because of a technicality. He killed a young girl and he’s walking away a free man. Jack prosecuted the case and lost.”

  “He must not be a very good district attorney if he lost the case,” Myra snapped. Nikki’s eyebrows shot upward. Was that a spark of interest? Childishly, she crossed her fingers.

  “He’s an excellent district attorney, Myra but the law is the law. The judge let things go because they weren’t legal. Oh, look, there’s the mother of the girl. God, I feel so sorry for her. She was in court every single day. The papers said she never took her eyes off the accused, not even for a minute. The reporters marveled at the woman’s steadfast intensity. Every day they did an article about her. Jack said she fainted when the verdict came in.”

  “I know just how she feels,” Myra said, leaning forward to see the screen better. “What’s she doing, Nikki? Look, there’s Jack! He’s very photogenic.”

  Nikki watched as the scene played out in front of her. She saw Jack’s lips move, knew he was saying something but she couldn’t hear over the voices of the excited news reporters. She saw his arm reach out but he was too late. Marie Lewellen fired the gun in her hand point-blank at the man who killed her daughter.

  The television screen turned black and then came to life again.

  Barnes looked directly into the camera, his eyes wide with shocked disbelief. Blood bubbled from his mouth. “I…should have…killed…you, too…you bitch!”

  “You killed my little girl. You don’t deserve to live. I’m glad I killed you. Glad!” Marie Lewellen screamed.

  Barnes fell face forward onto the concrete steps of the courthouse.

  Chaos erupted but the camera stayed positioned, capturing the ensuing panic.

  “Oh my God!” was all Nikki could say.

  Myra reared back against the cushions. “Did you see that! That’s what I should have done! I hope she killed the son of a bitch! Is he moving? I can’t see. Is he dead, Nikki? Charles, come see this. Why didn’t I have the guts to do what that woman just did?” Myra shouted, her skinny arms flailing up and down. “If she killed him, I want you to defend her, Nikki. I’ll pay for everything. Use your whole firm. Every expert, every specialist in the world. She killed him. She got in his face and killed him. Tell me he’s dead. I want to know if he’s dead!”

  Nikki looked at Charles, who was busy staring at the ceiling. “He’s dead, Myra.”

  “Look, look! They’re handcuffing her. They’re going to take her to jail. I want you to leave right now. Post her bail, do something. Don’t let them keep her in jail. Say you’ll take her home with you. Tell them she won’t be a menace to society. Charles, get my checkbook.”

  “Myra, for God’s sake, simmer down. It’s not that easy.”

  “The hell it isn’t. She was crazed. Temporary insanity. Are you going to do it or not, Nikki?”

  “Yes, but…”

  “Don’t give me buts. You’re still sitting here. I never asked you to do a thing for me, Nikki. Never once. I’m asking you now.”

  “I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it, Myra. I need to think. I need to talk to Jack. I can have my paralegal go down to the station. Tomorrow morning will be time enough. There is no way in hell she’s getting out of jail tonight. She has to be arraigned. Can you wait for morning, Myra?”

  “Yes, I can wait for morning.” Myra swung around. “Charles, did you see what that woman just did? I would cheerfully rot in prison if I had the guts to do that. First thing in the morning, Nikki. I want you to call me with a full report.”

  “You don’t answer the phone, Myra,” Nikki said sourly.

  “I’ll answer it tomorrow. Isn’t it time for dinner? Let’s eat off trays this evening. I want to see what happens to that poor woman. They’ll be reporting on this for hours. Does she have other children? A husband? Isn’t anyone going to answer me?”

  Nikki’s jaw dropped. Charles spun around on his heel, a smirk on h
is face.

  “I can tell you what Jack told me. She has two other children, and yes, she has a husband. She’s a homemaker. She works at a Hallmark shop on weekends for extra money that goes for all the little extras young kids need. Her husband is a lineman for AT&T. Her two boys are nine and eleven. Jenny, the daughter that was killed, worked after school till closing at the same Hallmark shop. She had a flat tire the night she was killed. She was fixing it herself when that creep offered to help, and then he snatched her and dumped her body out near Manassas. Jack said they’re a very nice family. Marie went to PTA meetings and they went to church as a family on Sunday.”

  “They’ll need someone to take care of the boys, to cook and do all the things a mother does in case they don’t let her out right away. Charles, find someone for the family. Use that employment agency we use when we do our spring cleaning. I hope they give her a medal. Someone should.”

  “Myra, for God’s sake, she killed a man in cold blood. She took the law into her own hands. Civilized people don’t do things like that. That’s why we have laws.”

  “Where was the law when that bastard killed my daughter? Did Barbara get justice? No, she did not! My daughter is dead and no one paid for that crime. My unborn grandchild is dead and no one paid for that crime either. I’ll go to my grave never having seen my grandchild. Don’t talk to me about justice. Don’t talk to me about the law because I don’t want to hear it. Those laws, the justice that freed that man…suck.”

  Nikki looked up to see Charles standing in the doorway. She watched as both his clenched fists shot upward. In spite of herself, she grinned. Myra was alive and belching fire. All she had to do was get her to calm down and maybe, just maybe, she would return to the land of the living.

  It was midnight when Jack Emery finally returned Nikki’s call. She crawled into bed, her head buzzing with the evening’s events.

  “Did you see it, Nikki?”

  “Of course I saw it. Myra and Charles saw it, too. I’ll say one thing, it snapped Myra out of her fugue. At least for now. She wants me to defend Marie Lewellen. I said I would.”