Charley was standing at Victor’s desk, a bundle of papers clutched her in hand. Her eyes were huge, seeming to take up most of her face. And they were locked on the man in the room with her.
Cole shifted slightly to allow for a better look, and Douglas came fully into his view. His back was to the French doors, but Cole had no trouble seeing the gun in his hand. And it was pointed at Charley.
If only Douglas were closer to the doors, he might rush him, but the man was too far away. He’d hear Cole coming and have plenty of time to fire the gun. Cole’s only hope was to distract him until Ben got there.
Taking a deep breath he stepped casually into the room and spoke. “I always did hate being late to parties.”
Chapter Eighteen
“Cole.” His name was a mere whisper on her lips.
“It’s okay, Charley.” His gaze flicked to hers as fear and relief mingled inside him. She was still alive and unhurt. So far. He had to make sure she stayed that way.
At his first words, Douglas had spun sideways, positioning himself so his gun could cover both Cole and Charley. For the first time in Cole’s memory, Ashton’s face was showing some emotion.
“Jordan.” The word was a snarl of anger. “You just couldn’t stay out of it, could you?”
“Why don’t you put the gun down, Douglas, and let’s talk about it?”
“Oh, you’d love that wouldn’t you?” His lip curled up in a sneer. “Besides, there’s nothing to talk about. I’ve been playing second fiddle to my dear cousin long enough.”
Cole took a step closer, but stopped when the gun swung in his direction. “I guess it was pretty hard, having your father refuse to acknowledge you, wasn’t it?” He kept his eyes on Ashton, but in his peripheral vision he could see Charley, still standing frozen at the desk.
“Hard?” Ashton’s laugh sent the hair erect on Cole’s neck. “No, Jordan. Hard was watching my mother go quietly insane over the years. Hard was watching her sit in an empty field, rocking back and forth while she crammed handfuls of dirt in her mouth.” His voice caught before he continued. “Hard was seeing the men that came to our shack almost every night. And she wasn’t even aware of what they were doing. She just laid there, humming to herself while they used her. Oh, they always left money. A dollar or two. It was the only thing that kept us from starving.”
Charley covered her mouth in horror, and the gun immediately turned at the movement. Silently, Cole moved another step as Charley spoke.
“Oh, Douglas. I can’t believe Uncle Victor knew about this.”
“He didn’t want to know. He’s worse than the men who visited her. Victor Channing made her think he loved her. He got her pregnant, destroyed her life, then left without so much as a goodbye. At least the other men gave her money. All Victor gave her was me.”
“But why didn’t you tell me? Douglas, I could have helped. Do you think I would accept a penny from Uncle Victor knowing you were his son? It all should be yours, the house, the money, everything. I never wanted it.”
“Could you make my father care about me? Don’t even answer. It would be a lie.” The gun shook in his hand. “I was so sure he’d be happy to learn he had a son. But he didn’t believe me. He made me take a blood test to prove it, and when it did, what did he do? Welcome me with open arms? No, he made me his damn butler, fetching and carrying, waiting on him hand and foot. But you. You were his little princess. Nothing was too good for you. I had to watch all these years, as he showered you with the love I wasn’t good enough for.”
Ashton glanced at Cole. “I wouldn’t advise coming any closer, Jordan.” The gun shifted again. “You know what the highlight of my life has been? Knowing that Victor ruined things for the two of you. Watching her suffer because she thought you betrayed her, and knowing that her precious uncle was the one responsible. But you had to spoil it, Jordan. You had to come back—”
He broke off, tilting his head to listen and Cole heard the same sound. Footsteps that hesitated outside the door.
“Well, this is turning into a real family gathering. You may as well come in, Victor, and stop lurking in the hall. I know you’re there. Unless, of course, you’d rather I just ended it all right now.”
He waited until Victor stepped into the room, then gestured with the gun. “Over there, by the desk. You know, this could get real interesting. Now, how shall we do it?” His eyes squinted in mock contemplation. “Ah, yes. It’s really quite simple. Jordan came here to tell his beloved Charley the truth about her uncle. And you, naturally, couldn’t have that, could you Victor? So you pulled a gun on him. Jordan jumped you, and during the struggle, several shots were fired. Jordan was killed, and unfortunately a stray bullet hit your niece. In remorse, you took your own life. All neat and tidy.”
Cole inched a step closer.
“Douglas, son, listen to me. Don’t do this,” Victor pled. “Your plan won’t work. The sheriff knows everything. Right now, he’s outside with half his force, waiting. I asked him to give me a chance to talk to you first. I was wrong, Douglas. I know that now. Give me a chance to make it up to you. Just put the gun down. Right now, they’re willing to negotiate, but if you pull that trigger you won’t stand a chance of getting out of here alive.”
“You’re lying! Just like you always do.”
“No,” Cole shifted again. “He’s telling you the truth, Ashton. I was at the sheriff’s office earlier when Ben found out. He was on his way, even before we knew Charley was here.” He was so close. Just one more step and he’d be within range. He raised one hand placatingly and took that step. “Why don’t you listen to Victor, Douglas? None of us want to see you hurt. We can get you some help.”
“Stop!” Ashton’s scream contained pure rage. “Stop it! All of you!” Suddenly, he levered a shell into the breech and assumed the classic shooter’s stance, the gun pointed right at Charley. “Do you think I care if I die? The only thing I’ve lived for the last few years was the chance to make you pay. And now you’re going to! Starting with your precious Charley. I want you to watch her die and suffer. Suffer like you’ve made me suffer.” His finger began to depress the trigger.
“No!” The cry of anguish was torn from Cole as he lunged. Even as his cast connected with Ashton’s arm, the gun went off. Charley’s scream filled the room, rang in his ears as agony ripped though him. Not Charley. Please God, not Charley. With adrenaline-enhanced fear, he swung at Ashton again, his fist connecting solidly with the man’s jaw.
Ashton’s head snapped back and his arms windmilled, the gun flying from his hand and skidding across the floor. His large frame followed with ground-shaking force. Even stunned, Ashton kept moving, scrabbling for the gun.
“Freeze, Ashton!”
Cole abruptly stopped his own forward motion, almost losing his balance in the effort. Ben Zimmerman stood in the open French doors, his revolver trained on Ashton.
Cole threw himself to one side as Ashton’s hand closed around the gun.
“I said hold it!”
Seemingly in slow motion, Ashton rolled to a sitting position, arm rising, gun ready.
A steady stream of curse words issued from Ben’s mouth as the revolver bucked in his hands. The stench of gunpowder filled the room as a red flower bloomed in the center of Douglas Ashton’s chest. With a look of mild surprise, his face relaxed and he slumped to the side.
As Ben kept his gun trained on Ashton, two deputies approached the man and one knelt, checking for a pulse. “He’s dead.”
“Charley!” Cole bolted to his feet and turned toward the desk, his heartbeat thundering in his throat. She wasn’t there. “Charley!” Panic echoed in his voice as he raced around the desk.
Charley was on her knees, huddled protectively over her uncle’s body. Blood pooled on the floor beneath him, staining the hardwood boards.
She lifted her tear-ravaged face. “He stepped in front of me, Cole. When Douglas fired, Uncle Victor stepped in front of me. I should be the one lying here, not h
im.”
“No, not you. Never you.” He squatted next to her and checked for a pulse in Victor’s neck. There. Thready and weak, but a definite beat. “Charley, he’s not dead. Do you hear me? He’s alive.”
Cole looked over the desk. “Ben, we need an ambulance. Victor’s been shot.”
The sheriff grabbed a phone and Cole heard him mumbling instructions into it.
“You wouldn’t believe me.” The anguish in Charley’s voice tore him apart.
“Charley, I’m sorry. I should have listened.”
As though he hadn’t spoken she continued. “You wouldn’t believe me and now he’s going to die.”
In the distance sirens wailed and the sound echoed though Cole’s soul. He lifted a hand to her face, but she flinched away from him. “Charley, please,” he whispered.
“No!” Her face was pale but a thin sheen of sweat stood on her forehead. “Don’t touch me!”
Someone dropped a multicolored throw around her shoulders and Cole raised his eyes to Ben’s.
“She’s in shock, Cole. She doesn’t know what she’s saying. I’ve seen it before. Give her time.” Ben pulled Charley away from her uncle, explaining when she protested that the paramedics needed her out of the way.
Cole watched her go, the despair that curled in his stomach wrapping icy fingers around his heart. Not once did she look back at him. Ben was wrong. Charley would never forgive him for not believing her.
* * * * *
The brake lights of the ambulance flared briefly before it turned at the end of the driveway, and Cole watched until it vanished down the highway. It felt like his whole life was in that vehicle, driving away from him. And there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.
The sheriff stood next to him in the fading light, his gaze also fixed on the ambulance.
“What did the paramedics say?” Cole kept his voice even.
Ben glanced at him. “It’s going to be touch and go. Victor’s in pretty bad shape, and he’s lost a lot of blood. You don’t have to worry about Charley, though. She’ll be fine.”
“Will she?”
“Yes.” Ben paused. “Wouldn’t hurt you to run by the emergency room, yourself.”
“I’m fine.”
“Probably. But you need to have that taken care of,” he gestured toward Cole’s arm.
Cole looked down at the cast on his left arm. When he’d hit Douglas the plaster had broken, exposing the gauze wrapping beneath. “Maybe later.”
Ben nodded. “Well, I’ve got to get back to work. You can take off, if you want to. Not much sense in hanging around here while we tie up the loose ends. If I need you for anything, I’ll call.”
Each step back to his car seemed to take a year, but he finally reached it and slid wearily into the seat. He had to dodge police cars and the county coroner to reach the highway, their flashing lights a garish contrast to the glorious sunset that stained the western sky.
Douglas was dead. Victor Channing was fighting for his life. Charley had almost been killed. And the only thing that his mind seemed to grasp was that he’d lost her. For good this time. He’d had his second chance. There would be no third.
Kristy was waiting when he pulled up in front of the house, worry etched on her face.
“You know what happened?”
“Yes.” She closed the door behind him. “Frannie has a police scanner. She’s been keeping me updated, but she left for the hospital a few minutes ago to be with Charley.”
Cole rubbed his eyes tiredly. “Good. Charley doesn’t need to be alone right now.”
“So why aren’t you at the hospital with her?”
“She doesn’t want me there, Kris. She thinks this is all my fault because I didn’t believe Victor was innocent.” He shook his head. “She actually flinched when I touched her. It’s over. I’ve lost her.”
Kristy rubbed his arm. “What are you going to do?”
“Do?” His laugh sounded unnatural. “There’s nothing to do.”
“Mrs. Paulson has dinner ready. Why don’t I get you something to eat?”
“I’m not hungry.” He stopped with one foot on the stairs. “If you hear anything about Victor, let me know?”
“I will. Frannie promised to call as soon as they know anything.”
Cole went straight to the bank of windows that lined his bedroom and gazed out at the gathering darkness. In the distance he could see the twinkling lights of Canyon Bend. Charley was there, somewhere in that maze of brightness.
He glanced down at his arm. The cast was well and truly ruined. He might as well go have another put on now, before any more damage was done. With his right hand he ripped it the rest of the way off, and flung the pieces across the room. Soon, he would have to decide what to do with the rest of his life, but for now his brain shut down at the very thought. Nothing mattered anymore. Not his business, not his money. He had done it all for Charley. Without her the rest had no meaning.
* * * * *
Charley lay still while the nurse checked her blood pressure yet again. Even with all the activity around her, her eyes kept drifting closed. She forced them open as the cuff was removed from her arm.
“It’s coming back up nicely, dear. I think it will be safe to remove this now.” The stout nurse gestured toward the IV line feeding into her arm. “There’s someone here to see you. Feel up to company?” Deftly, she applied a cotton ball to Charley’s hand, slid the needle out from under it, and taped the cotton in place.
At her words, Charley’s gaze went to the door. Frannie stood in the entry, shifting her weight from foot to foot. At the sight of her cousin, Charley’s chin quivered, but she bit down on her lip to stop the tears welling in her eyes. She refused to break down now. Uncle Victor needed her. “Tell her to come in.”
The nurse patted her and moved to Frannie, but Charley could hear their voices. Frannie’s contained a worried tone.
“Is she going to be all right?”
“She’ll be fine,” the nurse reassured her. “It was just a mild case of shock, compounded by the concussion she’d already suffered. She might be a little sleepy and disoriented for another hour or so, but that’s already starting to fade. You can see her now.”
Frannie tossed her purse onto a chair, then leaned on the bed rail. “Hi there. I hope you feel better than you look.”
Charley forced herself to smile. “That bad, huh?”
“Well, let’s just say you don’t have to worry about vampires right now. Doesn’t look like you’ve got enough blood left to interest one.”
“I guess there’s a bright side to everything. Now I can throw out the garlic.”
Frannie sobered. “Seriously, how are you doing?”
“I’ve been better, but I’ll make it.” Her chin quivered again in spite of her efforts to stop it. “I just wish I could say the same about Uncle Victor.”
“What are the doctors saying?”
“Not much. They’re trying to get him stabilized enough for surgery.”
“Charley, he’s going to make it. You have to believe that.” Frannie picked her hand up and squeezed it. “Victor is a tough old coot. He’ll outlive all of us just to prove he can.”
“I hope you’re right, Frannie. I don’t know what I’ll do if he doesn’t make it. He’s the only father I’ve ever had.”
“I know, sweetie. And he loves you, too. He wouldn’t want you to be this upset.”
They both looked up as the nurse came back in. “Miss Hart? They’re going to be taking your uncle to surgery in a few minutes. He’s conscious and asking for you. Do you feel up to talking with him?”
Charley sat up abruptly, then reeled dizzily.
“Oh, no you don’t.” The nurse eased her back down. “You stay right there until I get a wheelchair.”
By the time she returned Charley had talked Frannie into lowering the railing, and she was sitting on the side of the bed waiting. With Frannie on one side and the nurse on the other, they helped her in
to the chair. The room tilted crazily around her as the nurse began to push, and she closed her eyes against the wave of nausea that hit her.
“Where is he?”
“He’s right in the next room.”
Frannie held the door open for them, then stepped back. “I’ll be right out here if you need me.”
For Charley, her cousin’s words barely registered. Her gaze was fixed on her uncle and fear ran rampant through her entire body. There were tubes and wires everywhere, machines that clicked, beeped, and hissed. A male nurse sat to one side, chart in hand as he monitored the equipment.
Victor lay in the center of the bed, unmoving, and Charley had to swallow the lump in her throat before she could speak. Her uncle looked so small and frail. His skin was more gray than white, blood vessels clearly visible below the surface.
Gently, she touched his cheek. “Uncle Vic? I’m here.”
His lids fluttered then opened, his gaze searching for her. “Charley,” he whispered.
She leaned closer, the tears she’d been fighting spilling unnoticed down her face. “Don’t try to talk, Uncle Vic. You need to save your strength. They’re going to take you down to surgery in a few minutes and then everything will fine. I’ve been thinking about it, and when you get out, I’m going to move back home with you. You’ll need someone to take care of you.”
“No.” He wet his lips. “No, Charley. I was wrong. Jordan…” Victor took a shaky breath. “I should never have separated the two of you. He loves you.”
“Uncle Victor, please.”
“Listen to me, Charley. He loves you, and you love him. No matter what happens to me, the two of you belong together.”
Two orderlies entered the room. “We need to take him to surgery now, Miss Hart.”
Victor’s hand reached weakly for hers. “Promise me, darlin’.” His voice was fading with every second. “Promise…give Jordan…a chance.”
Charley nodded. “I will, Uncle Vic. I promise.” The lump in her throat was strangling her. She watched helplessly as the bed bearing her uncle was wheeled from the room.
For Love of Charley Page 18