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Attempted Matrimony

Page 20

by Joanna Wayne


  “So you helped him along, did you? He was in the hospital under your care, and you made sure he didn’t live to have his bypass surgery.”

  “He deserved to die. You all deserve to die.”

  “You can’t kill us all, Malcomb. I have a gun, too, and if you fire a shot at Nicole, I’ll fire as well, and I’ll kill you.”

  He saw fury shake Malcomb, saw his face turn bloodred, the tendons in his neck stand out like thick ribbons of steel. And Dallas knew that Malcomb was going to pull the trigger. He was going to kill one last time. And there was nothing Dallas could do to stop him.

  Malcomb pulled the trigger. So did Dallas. The gunfire cracked like fireworks, the noise almost deafening as the bullets fired simultaneously.

  Malcomb crumpled to the ground as Dallas rushed toward Nicole. She collapsed in his arms, and he felt the hot, sticky river of blood as it ran down his arms and dripped onto his shoes. He wrapped her in the blanket and held her close.

  “Don’t die, Nicole. Please don’t die. Please, God, don’t let her die.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Dallas paced the waiting area outside the emergency room at Mercy General. He tried to replay the events of the day in his mind, to focus on the investigation and how the final moments of it had played out. But facts and details blurred, and all he could think of was Nicole and how close she’d come to being another of Malcomb’s victims.

  For a few agonizing seconds, he’d thought Malcomb might have been as accurate with the gun as he was with a scalpel. When Dallas had seen Nicole take the bullet and then collapse, he’d felt as if the wound was his, as if his heart had been shattered and blown into thousands of splintered fragments.

  But it was the drugs Malcomb had injected into Nicole’s bloodstream that had pulled her under, sapped not only her coordination and strength but sucked her into a semiconscious state. The bullet had delivered only a wave of instant shock—and a flesh wound.

  Fastidious Freddie, the serial killer from hell, via Monticello, Arkansas, had not fared as well. He’d taken his bullet through the center of his right hand—the bread and butter of a surgeon. But it didn’t matter. He wouldn’t be performing surgery in the pen.

  “Where is she, Dallas? Where’s Nicole?”

  Dallas looked up and saw Janice marching toward him, her high heels clicking along the tile floor. Her face was flushed, and panic chipped at her sophisticated veneer.

  “She’s in with a doctor now.”

  “Is she all right?”

  “She will be. Her injury is minor. She’ll be just fine.” His breath seemed to whoosh from his lungs with that statement, as if saying it out loud had finally convinced even him.

  “And Malcomb?”

  By the time he’d finished giving Janice the updated report, she’d been joined by her parents. They all stood around the waiting area, talking about the bizarre turn of events in low voices. Dallas felt awkward with the group of close-knit family members.

  They were the core group. They belonged. He was the detective, and while they were all thankful he’d saved Nicole and Ronnie’s life, it was clear that they considered his job over and done with. After a few minutes, he excused himself to go and check on Ronnie, who’d been put in a private room in the hospital for examination and observation by his regular physician.

  A stern-looking nurse stuck her head through the door as Dallas was making his exit.

  “Detective Mitchell?”

  “I’m Detective Mitchell.”

  “Nichole Lancaster is asking for you. They’ll be wheeling her to the emergency operating room for minor surgery in a few minutes, but the doctor said you can stay with her until then.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Follow me.”

  The others surged forward. The nurse put up a hand to stop them. “Only one visitor. The patient asked for the detective.”

  He was shaking when he entered the small examining room—shaking inside, so no one knew but him. Love was scary. Not as scary as other things he’d faced today. But scary all the same.

  NICOLE FELT THE TOUCH of a hand on hers and opened her eyes. Dallas was standing there, silhouetted against the light filtering through the small window. He looked larger than life.

  He was larger than life. Nine years ago he might have been hell on a Harley. But today he was a man among men.

  “Thanks,” she whispered. “You saved my life.”

  “Thank you for staying alive until I got there.”

  “Is Ronnie all right?”

  “He’s okay. He doesn’t seem to remember much. Apparently, Malcomb had him drugged to the state where he knew very little of what was going on.”

  “I’m glad. How did you find us, Dallas? How did you know where to go?”

  “Your friend Matilda came through for you. She got in contact with her sister-in-law, and, faced with the fact that you were about to be the next victim, Penny admitted what she knew.”

  “Did Penny know all along that Malcomb was the killer?”

  “No. She had no clue that either Jim or Malcomb were connected to the serial killings, but she suspected from the first that Jim Castle had killed Karen. But Malcomb had warned her not to say a word, told her that Jim was dangerous and that if she talked, he’d kill her the same way he’d murdered her friend.”

  “Are you saying that Jim Castle killed Karen?”

  “Yes. But Malcomb killed the four others. Jim killed Karen to keep his wife from finding out about his affair and Karen’s pregnancy, but evidently he lost it after that. He called Penny and asked her to meet him. She thought he was going to threaten her or offer to buy her silence about his being the father of Karen’s unborn child. Instead he warned her that Malcomb might be planning to kill her because she knew too much. That’s when she took her son and ran. Fortunately, Matilda knew where to look for her.”

  Nicole was starting to slide back into that gauzy mist again. She held on tightly to Dallas’s hand. “I still don’t understand how you found the location of the camp.”

  “Penny had been there once. She’d gone there with Karen to see Malcomb and Jim, for a meeting of the photography club—which wasn’t really a club at all, just women Malcomb found in chat rooms on the Internet.”

  “Where there’s a sordid will, there’s a way.”

  “So it seems. There had been one other woman there that night, and Penny had been appalled by the activities the group had participated in. She’d never gone back, but she knew how to find the camp. Malcomb had warned her not to say a word about his so-called club, but the whole thing had tormented her so badly that she finally decided she had to warn you what your husband was up to.”

  “So the anonymous phone call was from her?”

  “Yeah. She’d tried to call Sara Castle as well, but Sara didn’t answer her phone that morning. Then when Karen was killed, Penny got really scared and sided with Malcomb, doing exactly as he told her to do.”

  “Which was to tell me how great my husband was and that even though he’d talked to Karen so many hours on the phone, there was nothing between them.”

  “Right.”

  “Malcomb the manipulator! The courtship, our wedding… Our entire relationship must have been nothing but a ruse from the very beginning.”

  “You’re right. I’ll fill you in on that later.”

  Dallas lapsed into his own thoughts. So much of Nicole’s life had been tied in with her father’s. He supposed it was always that way when you were related to someone as politically powerful and as charismatic as Gerald Dalton had been. Like most people in his position, Dalton had been plagued by his faults even while being praised for his greatness. But Nicole’s memories of him would always be bound in love. In Dallas’s mind, that was Gerald’s greatest legacy. He hoped it never tarnished.

  The nurse came to the room. “Are you ready to go, Nicole?”

  She nodded. “Will you be here when I come out from under the anesthetic, Dallas?”

  “I’ll be
here.” He bent over and kissed her lightly on the mouth. A hint of passion. A promise of forever. “I’ll be here then and for as long as you’ll let me hang around.”

  “Careful what you promise.”

  “I am. Count on it. Count on me.”

  And this time Nicole knew that she could. No more cheap lipstick. True love was here to stay. A woman couldn’t ask for more than that.

  ISBN: 978-1-4592-4084-1

  ATTEMPTED MATRIMONY

  Copyright © 2003 by JoAnn Vest

  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.

  ® and TM are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.

  Visit us at www.eHarlequin.com

  *Randolph Family Ties

  †Hidden Passions

  Table of Contents

  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

 

 

 


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