by B. J Daniels
Jack felt weak. “You’re telling me that was her idea?”
“She knew I couldn’t have children so I think it was her way of putting us on equal footing.”
Jack raised a brow. Did Vandermullen really expect him to believe this?
“You didn’t know my wife. She was quite… neurotic.”
Jack was having a hard time believing this and yet the doctor seemed to be telling the truth. “Then why was she suddenly looking for her baby?”
Vandermullen shrugged and took a drink of his bourbon. “It’s hard to say. Maybe after all these years and our breakup, she needed an anchor. Someone to love. It happens. It’s too bad. She would have destroyed whatever family Brad Baxter found for the baby. Liz was a very needy woman, as I’ve told you. She would have brought no good to her daughter.”
“If you feel that strongly,” Jack said carefully, “would you have tried to stop her?”
Dr. Vandermullen smiled. “As I told you, I washed my hands of Liz. And I certainly wouldn’t have committed murder to protect a baby that wasn’t even mine.”
“But you did perform an illegal adoption, fake a baby’s death and lie about it,” Jack pointed out.
Vandermullen didn’t even flinch. “I would have done anything for Liz. Whether you believe me or not, I loved my wife, detective. Sadly, I still do.” He glanced at his watch. “Tee time.”
Vandermullen left him to go golf with his friends, leaving Jack confused. He didn’t know what to believe. Vandermullen had had an answer for everything. He’d also seemed pretty calm when he’d headed off to collect his clubs and hit nine holes before dark.
Jack was just glad Baxter was behind bars and Karen was safe, because it appeared that Baxter was a consummate liar and more than likely a killer.
Jack couldn’t wait to get back to the lodge and Karen. He’d decided one thing for sure. He would tell her the truth. How he’d lied about their marriage. But everything else had been real. Something had happened to him the moment he saw her. He just hadn’t known what it was. He thought he knew now. But did he know what he wanted to do about those feelings if Karen gave him the chance? Right now, he was still running scared. Afraid that somehow he’d missed something…
The police radio filled with a burst of static, making him jump. He reached to turn it off but didn’t get the chance before he heard the bulletin.
Detective Captain Brad Baxter had escaped after being arrested at his home.
Jack swore. Karen! He turned on his siren and, with lights flashing, sped toward the lodge, praying he’d reach her in time.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Karen heard a noise, almost like the sound of a vehicle, and realized that hours had passed. She brushed dust and cobwebs from her shirt and glanced at her watch. Maybe it was Jack returning. She hoped so. She really wanted to talk to him. To try to get him to open up to her. Something was bothering him and she suspected it was more than this case.
She knew she couldn’t keep pretending that nothing was wrong with their marriage. She’d hoped that once they made love again, it would change the worried look in Jack’s eyes. She’d thought it must have something to do with her fall in the phone booth. What an odd place to fall down. It still puzzled her what they’d been doing there. Maybe she’d been calling her mother.
Jack had insisted she not call her mother and tell her the news of their marriage until after Karen’s memory returned and she was no longer in danger. He didn’t want to worry her mother. She’d thought that sweet. But she couldn’t help but wonder if Jack had her hid away up here because of Liz’s murder and a killer being after her. Or some other reason.
He was definitely hiding something from her. She knew him too well. Especially for as little time as she could remember knowing him. She’d never felt such a connection before. A closeness. As corny as it sounded, a oneness that she’d never believed possible with another human being, not even through marriage.
So what was Jack hiding from her?
SHE OPENED the chalet door and peered out. There was no vehicle by the lodge. Not even a car belonging to the man Jack had left to take care of her.
Suddenly she felt guilty. She hadn’t even said hello to Jack’s friend who’d been kind enough to drive all the way up here to look after her. Maybe she could make them both some coffee.
“Hello?” she called as she walked in the path cut for the chairlift down toward the ski lodge. The chairs dangled overhead, black silhouettes like stick figures against the evening sky.
She realized she hadn’t even thought to ask Jack’s friend’s name. And felt guilty. Jack was only trying to protect her. Why had she gotten her back up about that? Because she didn’t want to be dependent. Hadn’t that always been her fear? That marriage would take away her independence?
As she came around the corner of the lodge, she saw the thunderheads. Rain. She could smell it on the air.
“Hello?” Still no answer. Maybe he was inside. “Not much of a guard, Jack,” she said to herself and laughed.
She pushed open the door to the lodge, suddenly aware of the silence. It felt thick as cotton and just as dense. “Hello?” she called more softly.
No answer. She hadn’t really expected him to be in the lodge, she thought, trying to reassure herself that everything was fine.
But as she walked back toward the door she saw something on the coffee table that stopped her. The confidential police file on Liz Jones.
Karen was positive it hadn’t been there earlier. Jack had left his cell phone on the coffee table but she would have noticed the file if it had been there.
With morbid curiosity, she pulled out the contents. One of the photos of Liz caught her attention before she had a chance to look at anything else. The photo, taken after her death, showed the panty hose tied around Liz’s neck.
“Oh, my God,” Karen whispered. Her heart rate quickened. She stared at the photo, an icy blade of understanding burying itself inside her.
The panty hose. The cord around the baby’s neck. Why hadn’t she noticed the similarities? The killer had wrapped the panty hose around Liz’s neck the same way someone had the cord around the doll’s neck in the grave.
Karen shoved the papers and photograph back into the file and pushed it under a stack of magazines, feeling dirty, as if she’d glimpsed inside the killer’s dark, sick mind.
She shivered. The lodge suddenly seemed too quiet. She hurried out on the porch into the last of the day’s sunshine.
As she stood on the porch and looked out, she wondered about the vehicle she thought she’d heard earlier. She’d so hoped it was Jack returning. But she heard nothing now. And nothing moved on what she could see of the winding road that dropped off the mountain. Either she’d been mistaken or…was it possible her “guard” had left for some reason? That could explain why his car wasn’t here and why she’d thought she heard a vehicle and why he didn’t answer.
Silence seemed to shroud the mountainside. It was the storm, Karen told herself. And what she had seen in the file. What she suspected.
“Hello?” she called again, her voice echoing back at her and nothing more. “Fine,” she said, losing interest fast in continuing to look for her guard. He’d probably left. Or maybe he’d parked on the road below and walked up this morning. And now he could be out scouting around the perimeter or sleeping in the shade of a tree or a— She glanced down at the stone wall below the lodge. Or sleeping in the shade of a wall.
Shoes. She could see shoes. Black penny loafers. Jack had left her in the care of a man who wore penny loafers? And white socks, she saw as she moved closer. She could see his ankles now. Pant legs. Slacks? Jeez, Jack, who did you leave guarding me? Certainly not Bruno the Biker. But just the sight of him reassured her.
She continued down the steep hill until she could see a shirt over the top of the wall. Striped. It matched the slacks. It appeared Jack’s friend cared more about clothing than Jack did.
With relief she stepped up onto th
e wall, looked down and saw the man sleeping in the late sunshine, a fedora over his face and him completely unaware of the approaching storm or anything else.
JACK RACED toward the ski lodge. He couldn’t believe Baxter had escaped and had a good head start. Jack tried to convince himself that Baxter would run. A cop with his background would know how to disappear.
But Baxter wasn’t going to disappear. Jack knew where he was headed. The ski hill and Karen. Baxter knew where she was and how to get there. He’d just resisted arrest. He’d know he wasn’t going to get away with what he’d done. The best he could do would be to get even. Did he blame Karen? Or did he think that by killing the eyewitness to Liz’s murder he might still be able to get off somehow?
Baxter didn’t know that Karen couldn’t remember anything after he’d hit her in the phone booth. Karen couldn’t identify him. He was safe. The irony of it made Jack weak. Karen might never remember.
But worse than all that, she wouldn’t know that Baxter was the killer when she saw him. She would be a sitting duck.
His fear growing, Jack hurriedly dialed the cell-phone number at the lodge. He had to warn her. The phone rang and rang. No answer. She was in the chalet. He’d left the cell phone on the coffee table in the lodge. She wasn’t answering because she didn’t have the phone. She was safe still, though. Baxter hadn’t had time to get to the lodge. Yet.
It began to rain, huge drops that splattered loudly on the windshield like pebbles.
KAREN STOOD on the rock wall, debating whether to let her “guard” sleep or not. It would be cruel to let him get caught in the storm, although he definitely deserved it. Falling asleep on the job. Good thing she didn’t need help.
She jumped down from the wall with a thud she thought would wake him. But he didn’t move. A lot of good he’d do her. He hadn’t heard her calling for him, he hadn’t heard—
She froze. Blood. It was matted in his hair just over his ear. Reluctantly, she leaned down and carefully pushed the hat back from his face. She leaped back, a shriek escaping her lips. Her heart thundered in her chest.
“Howie?” she cried, not even realizing for a moment that her memory had returned at the sight of him.
She dropped beside him and searched for a pulse. Weak, but he was alive. But what was he doing here, she wondered as she stood. Surely he couldn’t be the guard that Jack had—
Jack. Her memory filled in like a flooded hole, drowning her in the truth. She grabbed hold of the stone wall as memories tumbled down on her. One truth lodged itself in her heart, a splinter of unbearable pain.
Jack. Her mind searched frantically for any other explanation—but found none. Jack. He wasn’t her husband. He’d lied. She thought of their lovemaking and closed her eyes in agony. He’d pretended to be her husband. He’d pretended to love her.
She opened her eyes, struggling against the anguish with the only weapon she possessed. Anger. What a fool she’d been. How could she have believed they’d gotten married so quickly? That she’d fallen in love with him almost at first sight?
But you had fallen in love with him. And almost at first sight.
And Jack must have known that. He’d used it against her. Used it to “protect” her. How could he have done such a thing to her?
She looked down at Howie. The only thing that mattered right now was getting help for him. He must have fallen.
She spotted a rock a few feet away—stained with blood. Her heart rocketed. He hadn’t fallen. Couldn’t have fallen on the rock. It was too far from him. She’d only been kidding herself that everything was fine. Nothing was fine. Jack had lied to her. And a killer was after her. How could things get any worse?
She knew the answer to that as she looked toward the lodge. The silence now absolute. Something rumbled behind her making her jump. Just the thunder as the storm moved closer. Rain imminent.
Trying to act as if she still believed Howie had just suffered a bad fall, she headed for the lodge. And the cell phone. Call for help. Call Jack. Just the thought of hearing his voice—
She’d call the police. Not Jack. Soon enough she’d have to face Jack. Face the fact that it had all been a lie. And that she knew he’d betrayed her love. Betrayed her.
She reached the lodge, hurriedly locking the door behind her. The cell phone wasn’t on the coffee table where Jack had left it that morning. Where she had just seen it minutes ago. She glanced around the lodge, trying to remember if she’d moved it. Her head was reeling. The phone had been on the coffee table.
“Are you looking for this?” a voice asked behind her.
JACK RACED THE JEEP up the mountain but hadn’t gone far when he came around a bend and saw a car blocking the road. He stared, his headlights slicing through the rain that now fell hard and fast.
Denny’s car?
Jack couldn’t believe what he was seeing. What was Denny doing here? Why would he check himself out of the hospital to come up here? Especially in his condition and knowing Jack wouldn’t be here?
Jack stopped behind the car, his headlights cutting through the empty interior of the car. Fear clutched at him, colder than the rain hammering the Jeep’s roof. How had Denny found the ski lodge? If Baxter had figured it out, then Jack supposed anyone determined enough could.
Including the killer.
He tried the cell phone again, praying that Karen would answer. At least she wasn’t alone. He’d left his cousin Howard with her. The line rang and rang.
He got out of the Jeep and walked toward Denny’s car, wondering why he’d stopped in the middle of the road. To block it for anyone else coming up behind him?
Just as Jack suspected, there were no keys in the car, nor was he able to push it out of the way.
Where was Denny? What could have made him leave the hospital in his shape to drive all the way out here?
Jack knew he’d have to go the rest of the way on foot. But so would anyone behind him. He took off at a run up the steep mountainside, following the winding road, fighting back the fear and panic that he’d reach the lodge too late.
KAREN STARED at her mother’s bridge-club member and the gun in the woman’s hand, wondering crazily what her mother would have to say about this. “Annette?”
Annette Westbrook was small, with blue eyes, blond hair and the slight figure of a mere girl. It seemed so odd to see Annette with a gun. The other times, Annette had cards or a wineglass in her manicured hand. The gun looked completely out of place.
The cell phone in the woman’s other hand finally quit ringing. Had it been Jack calling to check on Karen? Annette acted as if she hadn’t even heard it. She seemed a little dazed.
“You know, don’t you?” Annette said after the heavy silence filled the lodge again. “You remembered everything, didn’t you?”
Annette had known about her memory loss? “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said edging back toward the fireplace—and the poker, telling herself this wasn’t happening. None of this was happening. Let it all be a bad dream. Especially the part about Jack not being her husband.
It was the pistol Annette held that convinced Karen this wasn’t a dream and kept her from even considering trying to overpower the woman. “What’s going on?”
“I need you to tell me something,” Annette said, her voice deceptively soft, gentle. With her free hand she reached into her purse.
Karen couldn’t have guessed what the woman would pull out even if she’d been given clues.
Annette withdrew a silver frame and offered it to her the way she might have an appetizer.
Karen stopped inching her way toward the fireplace to take the nicely framed photograph. As she glanced down at it, she was surprised to see that it was of Annette, a man she’d never seen before and a beautiful young girl who looked familiar and another man. It was that man, the one on the far right, who grabbed Karen’s attention.
“You recognize him, don’t you?” Annette asked with a strange politeness, considering she was holding
a weapon on her. “He’s the man you saw with Liz Jones, isn’t he?”
Karen looked up, knowing her surprised expression had given her away. “Who is he?”
“My brother, Detective Captain Brad Baxter.”
Karen couldn’t hide her shock. Jack’s boss. The man she’d seen in the Hotel Carlton hallway with Liz was Jack’s boss? No wonder he’d been in the hotel ballroom that next morning. He’d returned to the scene of the crime all right—returned to pretend to investigate it.
She stared down at Brad Baxter’s photo and realized what it was about him that caused her to recognize him as the same man she’d seen only briefly before. His ears. They were good-size and stood out from his head in a way that she hadn’t realized made him very recognizable. Even in silhouette.
“Where is he?” Annette asked as she took the photograph back.
She looked up at her. “Where is who?”
“My brother.”
Karen slipped closer to the fireplace. “I have no idea.” She bumped into the stone with her heel.
“He isn’t here?” Annette glanced around nervously and Karen took that moment of distraction to reach behind her and feel for the poker.
“Why would he be here?” Karen asked and darted a look toward the bedroom.
It worked. Annette followed her gaze in that direction, giving Karen the opening she needed. She gripped the poker firmly and swung. It was only a glancing blow, but enough to knock Annette out. Her eyes rolled back and she slumped, the gun and cell phone clattering to the floor next to her.
Karen held the poker, waiting to see if the woman moved. When Annette didn’t, Karen exchanged the poker for the gun and cell phone.
Holding the gun on her, hands trembling, Karen punched in 911. Thunder boomed overhead. Rain pounded at the window. It took her a moment to realize that the number wasn’t ringing. She tried again without any luck. The tower must have gone down in the storm.
