by Lee Karr
“You’ve got to be kidding,” she scoffed. “Karl sent Tyla messages with his brain? Who’d believe a tale like that? She couldn’t have picked up anything from a vegetable like Karl. I think the woman is really off her rocker. I can’t believe you actually came here because you thought the old man might give you away. Your guilty conscience is getting the better of you.”
Barry replied and Doreen snapped, “Don’t try to make me the fall guy. When I warned you that Lynette was going to ruin you, I didn’t expect you to whisk her off from that party and send her car off a cliff. That was your doing, not mine!”
The impact of Doreen’s words on Tyla was like the battering winds of a hurricane. She leaned up against the wall, her whole body trembling as she sucked in her breath. She closed her eyes, confused and bewildered by the horrible revelation that seemed impossible. Barry had killed Lynette. And Doreen knew it. She must have wanted Clay so much that she was willing to be a silent accomplice to his wife’s death.
As Tyla’s thoughts swirled, a cry of joy caught in her throat. Clay was innocent. He was not to blame for his wife’s death. Clay…Clay. She breathed his name. Would he ever forgive her for believing he was capable of such treachery?
Barry’s voice rose enough for Tyla to hear him. “You were glad enough to have Lynette out of the way. You’re an accessory after the fact, Doreen, whether you want to be or not!” Then he lowered his voice, and Tyla stiffened when she caught Cassie’s name in something he said.
“But that’s impossible,” gasped Doreen. “Why would Cassie say something like that? She couldn’t have seen Clay in the car.”
“Tyla thinks she did. Some nonsense about the child having psychic insights.” Tyla heard Barry swear, and then there was a moment of silence.
“What if…if Cassie changes her story?” Doreen asked in a worried tone. “Says it’s you that she saw? Everything could hit the fan. The police might open up the damn case.”
“My worry exactly,” growled Barry.
“It’s all that blasted Tyla’s fault. Everything was going as we planned until she got hold of Cassie—and Clay! You shut Lynette up before she could carry out her threat to expose your unprofessional sexual relations with her. And Lynette’s death gave me a clear field at being the next Mrs. Clay Archer. We can’t let things slip through our hands now.”
“I’ll take care of the damn kid. Right now I’d better keep close to Tyla and make sure she doesn’t stir up anything more. She thinks I’m a good old boy who has the hots for her, and I’m going to stick closer to her than her own skin from now on.”
At the sound of a chair scooting back on the floor, Tyla turned and fled back down the hall. She started up the stairs and then stopped midway. Her thoughts whirled. What she did now was very important. Somehow she had to get control of the situation and thwart Barry’s threat to “take care of the kid.” Barry couldn’t trust Cassie not to stir up questions he didn’t want answered. Tyla didn’t doubt for a minute that Barry would do whatever was necessary to silence both her and the child. Somehow she had to pretend ignorance and continue to lean on him for advice in order to foil any satanic plans. Just the thought of his duplicity brought bile up into her throat as she came back down the stairs.
“There you are,” Barry said brightly as he came into view. “I was just going to hunt you up. How’s Cassie?”
“She’s sleeping.” Tyla’s voice was taut. She hoped Barry would dismiss it as strain over Karl’s attack. “I heard the ambulance. Was he still breathing?”
“I don’t know for sure. I let the paramedics take over. Miss O’Day came home and we decided to have a cup of coffee while I filled her in on what happened. Nobody seems to know where to find Archer. I don’t think we should hang around, do you?”
Even though one part of her desperately wanted Clay to walk through the door, she didn’t trust herself to keep up the pretense with Barry. She needed time to decide how to get the truth out without endangering Cassie. If she told the authorities what she’d overheard, it would be her word against Barry and Doreen’s. Doreen had gambled on getting Clay on the rebound and undoubtedly she had continued to lie for Barry in order to protect her own skin.
Barry put a guiding hand on her arm, and she fought the urge to jerk away from his touch as they left the house and got into her Volvo.
“You seem pretty shaken up,” Barry said, watching her as she sat stiffly behind the steering wheel and drove away from the house in silence. “Let’s go to your place and talk this thing over. I promised to help and I don’t want you to handle this all alone.”
How smooth he is, she thought as she felt a vise tightening around her chest. She wanted to throw his pretense of friendship right in his face. How could she have been so naive? She was furious with herself that she’d been duped by his smooth deceit. He’d used her from the moment he’d learned that she was handling the Archer case. That first day when Clay had arrived to take Cassie home, Barry had been lingering in the background. The dark vibrations that she’d picked up must have come from him and not Clay. And that night when they’d stood by her car, it must have been Barry who was sending out dark vibrations.
This very moment she could feel hostile energy assaulting her as he turned in the seat and watched her face. How could she pretend not to know that he had sent Lynette to her death? She didn’t want to go anyplace with him, but she was afraid to flatly refuse.
“I’m pretty tired,” she hedged. “Not really up to company.”
“I’m not company,” he said flatly. “And I can tell that you’re building up pressure like a steam kettle ready to burst. You need to talk. Don’t argue.” His tone was softly firm. “I’ll stay with you until you settle down. I care about you, Tyla. I guess you know that.”
His treachery made her sick to her stomach. She knew his declaration for the He that it was. In order to protect himself, he would use her trust to his advantage in any way he could.
She managed a faint smile. The challenge went both ways, she thought as she headed toward her apartment building. She needed to know what Barry was likely to do now. What a jolt it must have been when she’d told him about Cassie’s vision and her belief that Karl was trying to communicate with her.
From what Doreen had said, Lynette had laughed about letting her father in on the affair she was having with her psychiatrist. Karl must have suspected that his daughter’s death was not an accident or suicide, but murder. Lynette must have bragged about how she was going to take Barry through the mud and ruin his career. Karl had done his best to transmit his suspicions to Tyla. When Barry had walked into the house, the stress had been too much for the paralyzed man.
I’m sorry I failed you, Karl.
“Hey, stop here,” Barry said abruptly. “I’ll pick up some carry-out food.”
Tyla silently groaned. Eating with Barry was the last thing she wanted to do, but swallowing a protest, she pulled into the parking lot of a fast-food place.
“What’ll you have? A burger?” Barry asked as he got out.
Tyla nodded.
As she watched him walk briskly away from the car, her eyes widened with disbelief. When Barry walked beneath a streetlight, his dark toupee looked shiny and wavy—like Clay’s real hair. Her mind registered the impression without interpretation for a long moment. Then the truth leapt to the front of her consciousness. Cassie’s vision had not been faulty—just her identification of the figure she saw. Barry must have been wearing a tuxedo that night, and from the back, he looked like Clay sitting in the front seat.
In her jubilation, she forgot about Barry’s treachery and focused only on what this new insight meant to Clay and Cassie. She had promised Clay to find the reason for his child’s hostility, and now she had the knowledge to bring them together. She could imagine the soft glow of happiness in his eyes when she told him. When she told him—Her joy of success quickly dissipated. This new knowledge did nothing to solve the quandary of what she should do next. She still had no
empirical facts to lay before the police. They would want evidence, and she had none to give them.
Barry came back to the car, smiling and holding a large bag that gave off a hot, meaty odor. Tyla’s stomach turned over at the smell, but she managed to keep the nausea under control when Barry assured her that he’d brought her the works.
When they reached her apartment, she parked in her reserved spot under a long outdoor carport and drew in a couple of deep, settling breaths. She steeled herself for the ordeal ahead. Could she fool someone as perceptive as Barry?
I’ll take care of the kid, he had told Doreen, and Tyla’s mouth went dry as she remembered how callously he had sent Lynette to her death. Her life could depend upon lulling him into believing that he had nothing to fear from her. Above all, she had to convince him that Cassie was no threat to him.
He came around the car to her side and opened the door. Tyla stepped out and then froze as she looked over his shoulder. Barry had his back to a shadowy figure that suddenly darted into the light.
Rubin!
Tyla screamed as the youth lunged at Barry.
“What—” Barry turned but not fast enough.
With a vicious thrust, Rubin buried the knife’s blade in Barry’s back. “Take that, you son of—” Then he broke off as Barry crumpled at his feet. “Hell! It’s the wrong guy.”
Tyla tried to get back in the car.
“No, you don’t!” Rubin grabbed her.
Tyla tried to wrestle free, but his hands fastened on her arms like steel clamps. “You’re gonna pay!”
His fist snapped her head backward with a blow that clouded her vision. She gasped for air as he buried his balled fists in the pit of her stomach.
He hit her in the face until she crumpled to the ground, then roughly grabbed her arms and dragged her into a clump of bushes that bordered the parking lot. “I’m going to get my knife and show you something,” he growled.
He went back to Barry’s crumpled body and jerked out the knife. Then he ran to the bushes where he’d left Tyla.
“Where in the hell—” he swore.
She wasn’t there.
Tyla crawled along the ground, her fingers biting into the dirt. Her ears roared from the blows to her head, and her chest burned from the lack of air. Blindly she pulled herself forward and fell off a retaining wall to barren ground about four feet below.
“Bitch!” she heard Rubin swear as he thrashed the bushes looking for her.
She sucked in cries lodged in her throat. One sound and he would look down and see her. After a few moments she heard his footsteps on the pavement. He must have decided that she’d gone back to the car.
Tyla tried to get to her feet, but her legs wouldn’t hold her. Her cries as she lost consciousness were scarcely more than a breathless whisper. “Clay, help me… help…”
Clay came around the side of the apartment building, calling himself all kinds of names for leaving the Rover Club and camping out on Tyla’s doorstep. He’d been prepared to wait until she came home, no matter the hour, but sanity had finally won out. Tyla wasn’t the kind of woman who would put up with strong-arm tactics. Making a scene would only make her more resistant to any declarations of love he was ready to offer.
As he walked across the parking lot, he saw a furtive figure dart behind a line of automobiles. Had he interrupted someone in the act of stealing a car? A white Volvo? Recognition hit him at the same moment that he heard a feeble cry for help.
Tyla! He ran toward the car but before he reached it, Rubin stepped forward, brandishing a bloody knife.
“Come and get it, big boy!” he snarled. “Time to even up.”
The knife’s blade was crimson with fresh blood. Tyla! Oh, my God, he’s stabbed Tyla.
“You bastard,” swore Clay. He threw himself forward and sent Rubin stumbling backward.
They both went down. Rubin slashed out with his knife, just missing Clay. “Drop it…damn you. Drop it,” Clay demanded.
Rubin’s answer was another vicious swing at Clay’s stomach.
Clay pinned down the hand holding the knife and then rolled on top of Rubin. He hit him hard enough with his other fist to send Rubin’s eyes rolling back in his head. The youth’s body went limp, and the knife dropped from his hand.
Clay scrambled to his feet, yelling, “Tyla!”
He ran to her car and thought the crumpled body beside it was Tyla until he got close enough to see that it was a man. Clay turned him over. Barry was dead.
Where was Tyla? Like a crazed man, he started shouting her name. His ears strained to hear another whimpering cry. She could be bleeding to death.
“Tyla…Tyla!” he yelled frantically. Think! Think! The bastard must have hid her. Where? He turned in the direction of the row of bushes, then flayed the branches as he searched the whole row and came up empty. She must be under one of the cars. He started to turn away, but something stopped him. Not a sound. Nothing that he saw. Just a hunch that made him walk four feet along the ledge and look down.
“Tyla!” He jumped down beside her, his heart lodged in his throat as he saw her battered face and bleeding lip. She groaned as he pulled her into his arms, but there were no knife wounds. By some miracle, Rubin hadn’t stabbed her.
“I’m here, darling. It’s over. You’re all right.”
Tyla pressed her head against his chest and clung to him as he lifted her up in his arms. Her whole body throbbed with ricocheting pain, but a sense of peace settled on her. “You came,” she whispered. “You came when I needed you.”
Her lip was so swollen that she couldn’t smile, but the love shining in her eyes told him that she was convinced that he’d come because she had mentally willed it. And maybe she was right, he thought.
Chapter 19
Tyla’s brief stay in the hospital was traumatic, not because of her own injuries, but because of the vigil she kept at Karl’s bedside. Before Lynette’s father died, Tyla was determined that he would have the peace of knowing that the truth had come out.
“It’s all right, Karl,” she said, standing by his bed and concentrating hard on every word. “We know about Lynette and Dr. Reardon. I understand now what you were trying to tell me. Everything about Lynette’s death has come out. It’s going to be all right.” She repeated the assurance aloud over and over again. “Cassie is going to be fine…just fine.” She watched as peace settled on Karl’s face, and a few minutes later he drew his last breath.
When Clay drove Tyla home from the hospital, he brought her up-to-date on what had been happening. “Rubin has been charged with Barry’s murder,” he explained, “and the police have taken Doreen in for questioning. Harriet has decided to move out of the house and is planning an extended cruise after Karl’s funeral.”
“Cassie?” Tyla asked.
Clay swallowed hard. “I did my best to tell her the truth. She listened with those round blue eyes fixed on my face, and when I finished, she crawled up on my lap and pressed her wet cheek against mine.”
Tyla’s own eyes were suddenly moist. The healing had begun.
Clay knew that Tyla was still reeling from the emotional impact of what had happened. He wasn’t functioning on an even keel himself. The revelation that Barry had been his wife’s lover and had killed her had shocked him, but what had knocked him completely off-balance was hearing about Cassie’s conviction that he had sent her mother’s car over the cliff. What was even more shattering was knowing that Tyla had accepted the child’s belief as valid.
“Why didn’t you come to me instead of going to Reardon with Cassie’s vision?” he asked.
“I couldn’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because I had to protect Cassie…from you.”
“Protect her from me? You were ready to believe I’d murdered Lynette?” The raw hurt in his voice tore at her heart.
“Please try to understand. I fully believed that Cassie’s vision was valid. I just didn’t know that her interpretation was faulty.
I only knew that when Cassie asked me why Papa had let the car go over the cliff I’d found the basis for her deep emotional anguish. My own emotions were in such turmoil that I went to Barry for help.”
“And put yourself and Cassie right in the bastard’s hands.”
She suppressed a shudder. “When I heard Barry threaten to ‘take care of the kid,’ I knew that I had to play along with him in order to protect Cassie. He insisted on coming to my apartment…and that got him killed.”
“I just thank God it was him instead of you.”
Clay pulled into an empty space outside Tyla’s door. He helped Tyla out of the car, then put his arm around her waist as they walked from the car to her apartment. The moment that the apartment door closed behind them, he pulled her into his arms and buried his face in the warm curve of her neck. The memory of the terror he’d felt when he couldn’t find her swept over him. How easily she could have been the one with a knife in her back instead of Reardon.
She closed her eyes and drew on the strength of his warm, protective body. “I knew you’d come if I didn’t lose consciousness.”
He didn’t argue. The compulsion to leave the bar and go to her apartment had come from nowhere. A hunch? A telepathic message? He was willing to accept whatever guidance had brought him to her in time. She was everything he ever imagined a woman to be, and her courage mocked his stiff-necked pride. He wasn’t going to let her slip away. Not now, not ever.
A gentle evening breeze sent silver ripples across the water as Tyla and Clay stood on the veranda of the lodge and looked across the lake. She leaned back into the cradle of his arms and gazed up at dark mountains as soft as velvet and a sky dazzling with stars. Her face still showed faint bruises under a light golden tan, but perfect days of sailing had eased the shadows under her eyes.
He nuzzled the back of her neck. “Hmm, nice.”
She closed her eyes as contentment rippled through her body. “Very nice.”
“Have I told you lately how much I love you?” Clay asked.
