Darkness Before the Dawn

by Anne Stuart

  Willis jabbed the barrel of his sawed-off machine gun into her ribs. “Anywhere I tell you. Right, sweetie?” He moved the gun to aim it at Kate.

  “Right,” said Maggie.

  He looked over his shoulder at Alicia, who was calmly smoking her brightly colored cigarettes, her fuchsia mouth vivid against her sickly pallor. “Meet me in the car. We don’t have any time to waste—the sooner we’re away from here, the better.”

  “I wanted to call Jefferson—”

  “You can call him from the studio,” Bud said sharply, and the gun jabbed nervously into Maggie’s back again. “Do as I tell you, or you can join these two bitches in the house.”

  “I’ll be in the car,” Alicia said, turning her back on them.

  “Alicia, you can’t let him do this,” Kate said suddenly, her voice pleading. “You’ve been like a mother to me.”

  Alicia halted for a brief moment, looking at her over her shoulder, and her face was old and drawn. “You should know better than anyone how useless mothers are, honey.” And she turned away from them once more, heading down the steps to the front of the house.

  “No help from that quarter,” Bud said cheerfully. “Get a move on, you two.”

  They had no choice but to precede him into the deserted, air-conditioned mansion. “You want to tell us what you have planned for us, Bud?” Maggie asked politely.

  “Sure thing, Maggie. Anticipation is half the pleasure,” he said affably. “I’m going to lock the two of you in Alicia’s bathroom.”

  “Oooh, sounds dangerous,” Maggie snapped.

  “There are no windows. No way for you to get out. Everything’s nicely soundproofed, so no one can overhear anyone taking a crap. Alicia’s sold the house to some developers. Tomorrow morning, bright and early, bulldozers and wrecking equipment are coming by to level this place to make room for nice little condominiums. No one’s gonna hear your screams, sweetcakes.”

  “You don’t want them to find our bodies.”

  Bud shrugged. “I could give a rat’s ass. If they find you, fine. If not, it won’t matter, either, ’cause we’ll be long gone.”

  “Chrissie—” Kate said, her voice desperate.

  “Chrissie’s okay.” Maggie placed a reassuring hand on her sister’s shoulder. “Randall took her to stay with his sister.”

  Kate stopped still on the wide, curving staircase that Bud had herded them to, ignoring the gun. “Did you know about it?” she demanded.

  “He didn’t see fit to tell me.”

  “I’ll kill him,” Kate breathed, rage and relief filling her eyes.

  “You won’t need to,” Bud said. “I’m planning on doing that myself. But I’ll send him your regards. Keep moving.”

  Alicia’s bathroom was the size of a small bedroom, with a sunken tub, three sinks, a toilet that resembled the British throne, and an equally ornate bidet. As Bud had said, there were no windows, and the door had solid, unpickable locks, worthy of someone with an absolute fixation for privacy. Maggie paused in the doorway, looking at Bud out of the corner of her eye, wondering if she had any chance at all. She was more than a match for most men, but Bud Willis was a fighting machine, an inhuman automaton with the jungle instincts of a mamba snake. He was western democracy’s version of a terrorist, and she knew she’d stand no chance at all of even coming close to him.

  Kate had walked into the room and slumped down on the floor, burying her face in her arms. Still Maggie lingered by the door. Willis was smiling his skeletal smile, his transparent eyes gleeful, and he smelled of sweat and death. “Sorry it has to end this way, Maggie,” he said. “I had better things planned for you.”

  “Such as?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t want to disappoint you by telling you all about the pleasure you’ll be missing. I just want to tell you a little something to make your last few hours a little brighter.”

  “I don’t think I want to hear it.”

  “I know you don’t want to hear it,” he said. “You remember that day two years ago? It was a hot day in April, and the tourists were swarming all over Boothbay Harbor. The lilacs were out, and your whole street smelled of them.”

  She waited, saying nothing.

  “It was low tide that morning,” he continued, pleasure dancing in his eyes. “And it smelled of seaweed and dead fish, along with the lilacs. Pulaski came out of the house wearing a white shirt. By the time I finished with him, his shirt was red.”

  “Why?” The word was barely audible; her throat had closed up, allowing no breath through its strictures.

  “For fun, Maggie,” he said. “For kicks. Because you looked at him like he was Jesus Christ walking on water, and you looked at me like I was pigshit. Because I wanted to.” Then he grabbed her, caught her numb, lifeless body in his hands, and pulled her against his sweating body, pressing his greedy mouth down onto hers, shoving his tongue into her mouth.

  She could feel his erection against her leg, feel his clutching fingers clawing at her arms. She stood motionless, and he pulled away, pushing her into the bathroom and aiming the gun at her. “Sorry I don’t have more time,” he said. He shut the door on them.

  She listened to the sounds of the locks, listened to the muffled tread of his footsteps as he moved away. And then she turned and walked over to her sister’s huddled figure, a cold knot of hatred churning her stomach.

  “He made a mistake,” she said out loud.

  Kate raised her head from the cradle of her arms. “What do you mean?”

  “He wanted me to be too freaked out to think or do anything. But he misjudged me,” she said fiercely. “I’m getting out of here, and when I do, I’m going to kill him. Don’t just sit there, Kate. Help me.”

  “Help you what?” she echoed, dazed but game.

  “Help me break down this damned door.”

  “You mean you let her go after Kate alone?” Caleb demanded, his usually deep voice rising into high-pitched rage.

  “Maggie can take care of herself. We weren’t sure of you.” They were speeding across Chicago as fast as the traffic would allow them, which wasn’t fast enough. “Someone had to be in on it with Alicia, and you were one of two possibilities.”

  “What made you decide to trust me?”

  “I don’t trust you,” said Randall. “I don’t trust anyone. I decided you weren’t the one involved with Red Glove Films, or you wouldn’t have confronted Francis about the money. You also don’t have the motive and the connections to screw me up as badly as I’ve been screwed the last few days. And the other possibility does.”

  “Who is it?”

  “No one you know. A man named Bud Willis.” A brief, savage smile lit Randall’s dark face. “You can meet him after I finish rearranging him a bit.”

  “Can’t you drive this damned thing faster?” Caleb fumed. “I thought Jaguars were sports cars.”

  “This is a sedan,” Randall said. “And it’s the traffic that’s slowing us, not the car. I have complete faith in Maggie. They’ll be all right until we get there.”

  “And if they’re not?” he said stubbornly, drumming his long, freckled fingers on the leather dashboard.

  An odd, twisted look came into Randall’s eyes, as if the possibility had never occurred to him, and once it had, it been found completely unacceptable. “If they’re not,” he said finally, “then I doubt you’ll find pieces of Bud Willis big enough to identify.” And the Jaguar bucked forward with a roar.

  twenty-one

  “Maggie, it’s hopeless.”

  “Nothing’s hopeless, damn it,” Maggie snarled. “Again!”

  Once more they crashed in unison against the flimsy bathroom door; once more they heard the encouraging splinter of wood that still failed to make any headway. “Why the hell didn’t I ever take karate?” Maggie fumed, rubbing her aching shoulder. “I could kick the damned door down if I had.”

  “What makes you think we have any chance at all?” Kate said.

  “This house i
s cheap and gaudy and all show. The interior doors are hollow and flimsy. Come on, Kate. Once more, and put your back into it. Think of Chrissie.”

  “I’d rather think of Randall Carter and what I’m going to do to him when I catch him,” Kate said bitterly.

  Maggie managed a wry smile, pushing her hair out of her sweating face. “Then imagine you’re slamming into him. Let’s try a running start this time. Once more, kiddo! We can do it.”

  This time when the combined two hundred-plus pounds of female muscle slammed into the door, the crack was louder, and Maggie felt it give. “We’ve almost got it,” she panted. “One more time.”

  Once more they drew back to the far wall of the sprawling bathroom; once more they raced for the door. Maggie shut her eyes, braced for the blow, expecting to bounce back again. But with a crashing, rending sound, the door split down the middle, and Maggie and Kate tumbled through, landing in a tangle on the hot pink wall-to-wall carpeting that stretched through the hallway.

  “You okay?” Maggie questioned, sitting up.

  Kate sat with a slightly dazed expression on her face. “We did it!” she murmured. The splintering wood had ripped away her sleeve, and a long, nasty scrape was oozing blood. “We really did it.” And she started to laugh.

  For a moment, Maggie was prepared to stop the incipient hysteria. And then she realized Kate wasn’t hysterical; she was just happy and amazed to be alive. Before Maggie could gather her somewhat scattered wits, Kate had jumped to her feet and was grabbing her sister and yanking her upright.

  “Come on, Maggie! We’ve got to go after them. Randall and Caleb are walking into a trap, and we have to rescue them.” Her brown eyes were alight with excitement and determination, and Maggie shook her head.

  “Listen, kid, don’t get cocky,” she muttered. “We broke out of a locked bathroom; that doesn’t mean we’re ready to save the western world.”

  “Are you going to sit by and let Randall and Caleb fend for themselves?”

  “Serve ’em right if I did. The first thing we’re going to do, dear heart, is get the hell out of here. Then we’ll worry about saving their lives. Let’s move it, kid.”

  Kate was ahead of her, leaping down the steps. Maggie followed at a calmer, no less speedy pace, shaking her head. A little danger, the ability to rescue oneself, and one got just a tiny bit crazy. Maybe that would help carry Kate through the next few hours, hours that weren’t going to be pleasant. She only wished she weren’t too jaded to experience some of that euphoria herself. She needed all the edge she could get.

  Caleb was yanking at the padlocked gates, cursing with inventiveness that would have impressed Randall at another time. “This is Kate’s car!” he shouted over his shoulder. “Don’t just stand there, man! Help me!”

  “You’re not going to be able to break that chain with your bare hands,” he said, his mild tone belying the tension that was vibrating through him. “We’ve got to find another way in—and fast. Stop wasting your energy.”

  Caleb promptly wasted more energy cursing Randall, but Randall ignored him, turning his attention to the narrow door set deep into the thick stone walls. It was now locked, but locks were not much of an obstacle to a man of Randall’s talents. In moments the door had swung open and Randall was heading up the driveway, his long legs eating up the distance.

  Caleb’s distant curse floated after him, and then his pounding feet signaled his advent up the driveway. Randall didn’t even bother to turn and look; all his attention was concentrated on the front door and the two figures he saw there.

  Then Maggie and her sister were running toward him, and he could hear Maggie’s strong voice on the sultry breeze: “ ’Bout time you showed up,” she called when she was within hearing distance.

  He stood there, wanting to run to her, but his feet were glued to the ground. He waited as she ran toward him, one shoe missing, her hair streaming out behind her.

  She stopped just short of him, mere inches from his arms. Her bruised face was pale and sweaty; her eyes were blazing. And without thinking, he grabbed her, pulled her into his arms, and held her as relief washed over him.

  She didn’t fight him, much as he had expected her to. She leaned against him, resting for a moment in the shelter of his arms, and he could feel the hot August sun baking down on them.

  He moved then, pulled away, and looking down at her. “Are you all right? Bud didn’t hurt you?”

  “How did you know about Bud?” She moved away, running a nervous hand through her tangled hair.

  Randall shrugged. “The more I thought about it, the more sense it made. It had to be someone who knew the international scene and our past well enough to screw things up in Gemansk. Bud was the only logical choice. I don’t suppose Bud and Alicia are tied up somewhere in that monstrosity of a house?”

  “No such luck. Bud locked us in the bathroom, thinking we’d be stuck there when the wreckers arrived tomorrow. In the meantime they took off for the studio. I think they’re hoping you’ll catch up with them there.”

  “We will,” he said grimly. “I would have found you, Maggie. I promise you.”

  “Maybe,” she said. “I’m not sure I trust you.”

  Kate pulled out of Caleb’s protective arms. “That reminds me,” she said in a dangerous voice, advancing on him. “What the hell did you do to my baby?”

  “I do hope you’re not planning to beat me up,” he drawled, watching her approach with a jaundiced eye, “because your sister already did the honors.”

  Kate stopped midstride. “You did?”

  Maggie smiled with more than a trace of weariness. “I did. Trust me, little sister.”

  “If you all don’t mind, I think we should get out of here,” Caleb interrupted. “If we waste much more time, Alicia and her friend will get away scot-free.”

  “You’re right. We’ve got to get to the studio,” Maggie said, heading for the door set in the stone wall.

  Randall’s hand caught her arm. “What’s this we, white man? Don’t you think you’ve been through enough today?”

  Maggie remembered Bud’s skeletal smile and his cheerful, taunting confession. “Honey,” she said, “I’ve only just begun.” And she shook off his hand.

  Stoneham Studios was a vast, silent, deserted tomb when the four of them entered.

  “Why isn’t anyone here?” Maggie whispered to Kate.

  “We’ve always had Tuesdays and Wednesdays off,” she replied, looking around uneasily. “We work so many weekends that Alicia decided to change the work week.”

  “But what about security? A night watchman, or anything like that?”

  “No such animal,” Caleb offered. “We’ve been cutting costs right and left, and security was one of the first things to go.”

  “I wonder how they expected to get you two here,” Maggie said, limping forward. She still wore only one Nike, the other having been snatched out of her hand by Bud.

  “Probably by telling us you’re here,” Randall said. “At least they won’t be expecting us so soon—we have the element of surprise on our side.”

  “I’m afraid you don’t, honey.” Alicia’s voice shattered the stillness. “You have to get up real early to pull something over on a tough old buzzard like me.” She was standing in the shadows, her cigarette a tiny glow of light. The dimness almost concealed the gun in her hand. She’d taken over Bud’s more efficient sawed-off machine gun, and if her face was still pale with strain, her hand was rock steady.

  “Beats me how you two got out of my house so fast,” she said. “I got locked in that bathroom once, and it took the fire department to get me out.”

  “You underestimated us.”

  “I guess we did.” She sighed gustily, exhaling blue smoke into the murky darkness. Holding the gun with one hand, she tossed her cigarette onto the floor, then grimaced. “I loved that house. Billy-Bob built it for me, with everything I wanted in it. Guess it didn’t mean much once he died. Spent too much time here in this god
damned studio, trying to save his dream. Well, it’s too late for that. Too late for everything. Tomorrow everything will be gone. I’ll be real glad to get away.”

  “Alicia,” Kate said softly, “you don’t really want to kill us.”

  “Of course I don’t, honey,” Alicia said. “But I don’t see that I have much choice. You all move into the center of the room, real slow and careful. If you put a hand toward your pockets, I’ll shoot it off. You hear?”

  “We hear,” Maggie said grimly, and they all obeyed. Randall’s body was tense, ready for the slightest opportunity, and that tension radiated through her own body. Somehow or other, she had to distract Alicia just long enough for Randall to pounce. “What do you think Billy-Bob would think of what you’ve been doing? Turning traitor, involved in murder?”

  “He wouldn’t like it,” Alicia agreed, and Maggie could see the telltale signs of a slightly relaxed guard. The gun drooped a tiny bit, and her basilisk eyes were somewhat less alert. “But I comfort myself with the knowledge that his ma would be spinning in her grave. Don’t move, mister.” The gun spun around to train itself on Randall’s middle. “I’m faster than you’ll ever be.”

  Randall lifted his hands and shrugged. “I wouldn’t doubt it, Alicia,” he said, and only Maggie noticed he was still edging closer to the old woman.

  “What are you planning to do after you kill us?” Maggie questioned, still trying to divert her attention. “Do you think you’ll get out of the country without being caught?”

  “Of course we will. That little skunk Willis ought to be good for something. He’ll cover things up long enough for my brother and me to get to Peru, and then no one can touch us.”

  “Has Bud left Chicago for any reason in the last few days?” Maggie questioned softly, fiddling with her tangled hair.

  Alicia’s eyes were trained on Maggie’s nervous hand. “He flew back to Washington to clear up some last-minute details yesterday morning, and he returned on the midnight flight,” she said. “What the hell does that matter?”

  “I just wondered if he was the one who murdered Admiral Wentworth or if he delegated the responsibility.”