Unexpected Ties

by Gina Dartt

  Heart in her throat, she tiptoed to the door of the second bedroom and opened it very quietly. Through the crack, she could see Martin still battering away at the door down the hall. Clearly he wasn’t any more familiar with the layout of the house than Kate was, and though she found that odd, she was grateful.

  As the other door gave way and he forced his way inside the first bedroom, she slipped out of the second bedroom and dashed light-footed down the hall toward the stairs. As she passed the first door, then rushed down the stairs, she could hear him kicking the bathroom door, screaming curses at her.

  She had forgotten about Pat, who yelled at her sudden appearance. “You idiot, she’s down here!”

  She cursed silently as footsteps pounded across the ceiling, then ran down another hallway, confused as she turned the corner, expecting to find a kitchen and discovering a dining room instead. She slammed through a third door to find herself back in the hallway by the study. In her panic, she had somehow become turned around and ended up back at the north end of the house. She ran back into the study. At least she could find things there to help defend herself. Flinging open a display case containing Andrew’s baseball collection, she scooped up several of the balls from the top shelf.

  “She’s back in the study.” Pat directed Martin from the living room. He sounded very annoyed at his companion, and scared. “Hurry it up, you stupid son of a bitch. Andrew could come home any minute. You don’t want to be chasing her around when he shows up.”

  “Shut up,” Martin shouted. “Get the other one out to the black SUV. We’ll put them in the back and drive it into the lake. That’ll confuse things for a while.”

  Kate caught her breath and set herself, her arm cocked, ready for her hunter to appear. Time slowed, and she wondered what he was waiting for. Was he just outside the door, out of sight, waiting for her to let her guard down so he could pounce?

  As he suddenly appeared in the doorway, she almost dropped the ball in her hand. He grinned, huffing, his face flushed as he stepped deliberately toward her. She knew now that he was enjoying this chase hugely, in a way that sickened and terrified her.

  Angry, she drilled the first baseball at him with all her strength. She had always been the last one picked by the kids on the softball diamond when she was growing up, and she now regretted that physical liability profoundly. She wished she had grabbed another golf club. She could hit golf balls with a deadly velocity and skill that she lacked with baseballs, assuming he gave her time to set up her swing.

  Martin ducked and cursed, but the projectiles barely slowed him as he charged her. Frantically she grabbed for the baseball bat at the bottom of the case and threw it as well, the wood impacting his chest with a dull thud that made him cry out. Backpedaling desperately, she dodged around the desk at the same time he lunged for her. Hopefully she could use it as another brief barrier, but he didn’t come around the desk after her, offering her an escape route on the other side. Instead, he leaped over it in one huge rush, grabbing her and slamming her against the wall.

  She struggled with him frenziedly, trying to wiggle free, and they stumbled around as he grappled with her. She managed to duck through his arms and sprinted for the door. She had only taken a few steps before he lunged after her, grabbing her by the hair and yanking her back. The small of her back impacted with the desk, the pain shooting through her to drain what little strength she had left.

  As she fell back onto the surface, he was suddenly on top of her, his greater weight immobilizing her. She tried to scream, but his hands closed around her throat, and all she could do was beat weakly at his forearms as they shut off her air.

  Darkness crowded the edges of Kate’s vision as he tightened his grip, and all she could think of was how very angry Nikki was going to be at her for dying in such a foolish place, at such a foolish time, in such a foolish way.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  “Where’s Tiffany’s car?” Andrew demanded as he leaped out of his sedan, glaring at Nikki as if she knew.

  “Who knows? Did she really call you from here? Or did she just want to get you out here?”

  He took an abortive step toward her before someone came out the front door and caught both their attention. Nikki immediately recognized Pat Spencer from the driving range, astounded to see him carrying Denise Elliot over his shoulder. She appeared to be unconscious if not dead, her arms dangling boneless and limp. Crimson dripped from a wound on the side of her head.

  “Hey!” Andrew shouted. The sight of a woman being carried helplessly from his house undoubtedly aroused all of his natural protective and territorial instincts, even if he didn’t know what was going on. He rushed across the yard aggressively, fists clenched.

  Denise’s body kept Pat from running back into the house before Andrew reached the front steps. Clumsily, he dumped the woman on the front porch and turned to meet Andrew, the pair colliding like two rival bears during mating season.

  Pat’s momentum and the fact that he was on a higher level gave him a slight edge, and they careened down the stairs, tangled like a misshapen spider creature. Landing on the ground at the base of the steps, they began to pound on each other, fists flailing wildly, grunts issuing as the blows landed. Neither of them appeared to be particularly adept at this form of combat.

  Andrew was larger than Pat, but some of it was fat while Pat was lean and wiry. But he was hampered by his leg and had trouble finding leverage as they rolled around in the dirt. Andrew was obviously fighting for what he believed was the sanctity of his home and family, which lent him a ferocious strength. Pat merely looked as if he wanted to escape, his eyes wide with fear and panic.

  Nikki circled frantically, trying to get past them onto the front porch. When the men locked each other in some kind of hold, she took full advantage. Vaulting over them, she dashed up the steps to where Denise lay crumpled on the porch and immediately felt for a pulse. Relieved to feel a faint throb beneath her fingertips, she stood up again trying to control her panic. Where was Kate?

  She could hear some kind of a commotion inside the house, though it was difficult to detect its cause since the cursing from the fight in the front yard was so loud. Wishing she had a gun, and wishing she had called the police as soon as she saw Pat, she moved quickly but quietly inside. Fear for Kate rose thick in her chest and she wanted to run through the house screaming her name but didn’t dare. She needed a better idea of what was happening and who else might be inside. She doubted Pat was working alone.

  Looking to her right, she noticed a large living room decorated in lush ivories and greens. There was blood on the carpet. Was this where Denise had been attacked? The clatter seemed to be coming from the rear of the house, and she moved steadily toward it, alert for one of Pat Spencer’s associates. Why had Tiffany called her husband home, particularly since he seemed completely oblivious of all that was going on, including her extramarital affair? Was he really that stupid? Or had things been going on that he just didn’t want to see until they were shoved in his face?

  The thought of her cell phone sitting uselessly on the seat in her car made her want to shout noisy curses, but keeping low and silent, she peeked carefully around each corner before moving past it. The turmoil became louder and she heard several crashes, as if someone was throwing things. Looking down a hallway she saw a baseball sail through a doorway, hit the wall, rebound to the right, and roll down the carpet toward her.

  She took another step, wondering if someone was trashing the house to make it appear a robbery had happened. Or, hell, maybe it was a robbery. At this point, she wasn’t sure of anything anymore. Wishing yet again that she carried a weapon, she crept along the passageway, finally reaching the open door.

  She heard thumps and thuds, as if someone was fighting, and as she peered around the corner of the doorframe, she could see a man’s back. He was bent over something on the desk—a woman, kicking frantically as he choked the life out of her. Nikki froze, horror briefly overcoming her as she
recognized the shoes and the tailored pants. Then a white-hot rage blasted through her.

  She stepped inside, her eyes raking the study, desperately seeking something—anything—that she could use as a weapon. A tiny bit of common sense screamed at her that Martin Elliot was a great deal larger and more powerful than she was, that he could easily knock her aside and go back to hurting Kate with only a momentary pause unless she brought something effective to the fray.

  Sidestepping the balls rolling about on the floor, she spotted the display on the wall to her right. Like a great many children in the Maritimes, both male and female, Nikki learned to skate and play hockey at a young age. Without a second thought, she wrenched the autographed stick from the wall and brought the heel of the blade down across Martin’s arm in as vicious a slash as she had ever used on an opponent in the hockey rink. A bone snapped like kindling, and Martin screamed in a high voice, staggering back from Kate and cringing away from the attack. With the same smooth motion, Nikki turned the stick and used the tip of it to butt-end him in the solar plexus, knocking him into the wall.

  As he sagged on unsteady knees, Nikki slammed the stick across his back, cross-checking him with the same intensity she had used to clear the front of her team’s net during a scrum. Martin crashed to the floor and was still writhing when she leaped on him, driving her knees into his ribs. Feeling the jolt all the way to her spine, she realized too late that this tactic didn’t work nearly as well without the proper kneepads.

  Swiftly, she smashed Martin as hard as she could across his head and the battered stick splintered in her hands as his skull slammed into the carpet. Finally, he slumped, limp and unconscious beneath her. She hit him again for good measure with what was left of the stick before tossing aside the shattered pieces. Her knees stiff and aching, she hobbled to her feet.

  An odd silence descended upon the room, and Nikki felt a cold chill of shock. Almost afraid to look, she turned to the desk, seeking out her lover, not knowing how badly she was hurt. To her relief, Kate had somehow managed to stand up, a hand gingerly touching the ugly, purplish marks on her neck. Staring at Nikki, she leaned weakly against the desk and coughed, her breath a coarse rasp that penetrated to Nikki’s bones.

  “Oh, God, are you all right?” Nikki whispered, feeling light-headed. She reached out a trembling hand, feeling oddly frozen, unable to take a step toward her. Her heart was hammering so hard in her chest, it felt as if it would explode.

  Kate uttered an inarticulate cry and threw herself at Nikki, who was barely able to get her other arm up in time to catch her. Holding her tightly, Nikki turned them so that she could keep an eye on Martin over Kate’s shoulder, needing to be sure that he wouldn’t get up unexpectedly. Feeling suddenly tired and weak, she had to dig deep inside herself for self-control as she tried to comfort Kate.

  “It’s okay,” she crooned, her face in the thick auburn hair. “Katie, it’s all right now. I’m here.”

  After a few moments, during which both of them shook like leaves in a windstorm, Kate gradually stopped crying, her sobs slowing to soft gasps of breath, gentle hitches in the back of her throat. Nikki managed to retain some semblance of her own composure, but only because she desperately wanted to be strong for her lover, who needed her so badly.

  “They surprised us,” Kate said in a voice still harsh and low from the damage to her throat. Her cheek was pressed against Nikki’s chest, her head tucked up under her chin as she clung to her. “Pat must have killed or knocked Denise out…she was lying on the floor so still. I tried to fight, but Martin was too strong. I never considered that anyone would be out here. Denise said that Andrew was at work and Tiffany was shopping, but she was really helping create a setup to kill Andrew and frame him for the entire thing.”

  “Denise?”

  “No, Tiffany.” Kate gulped. “She’s in Halifax right now, arranging an alibi for her and Martin.”

  “What about Pat’s alibi?”

  “I don’t know.” A pause, then a bitter laugh. “Martin didn’t mention that part. He was too busy trying to kill me.”

  The words almost made Nikki’s heart explode. “Damn it, why didn’t you call me?” She grasped Kate’s arms and shook her, absolutely furious.

  Kate looked profoundly embarrassed. “I didn’t think…” she apologized weakly. “I’m sorry...”

  Nikki pulled her close again, hugging her desperately. How much danger Kate had truly been in was beginning to sink in, and she felt sick in the pit of her stomach.

  “Don’t you ever do this again,” she whispered fiercely. “Don’t you ever go off on your own and leave me behind again.”

  “I’m sorry,” Kate repeated, her voice muffled from where her face was pressed into Nikki’s chest. “I’m so sorry, Nikki. I was so worried about your safety that I completely forgot about my own.”

  “No kidding!”

  Nikki wasn’t very happy with Kate at the moment and knew they would have to discuss this further, but right now, she couldn’t stop hugging her. Never again, she swore silently. I’m never going to leave you again.

  She didn’t release the embrace until the big man lying on the floor groaned. Kate drew away shakily and moved around the desk, picking up the phone to dial 911 as Nikki retrieved a golf club from the bag leaning in the corner.

  “C’mon,” she warned Martin as he blinked fuzzily at her. He didn’t try to rise to his feet, but she nudged him with the club anyway, making him yelp as she jarred the broken bone in his arm. “Just give me an excuse to knock the crap out of you again.”

  Andrew and Denise suddenly appeared in the doorway. His eyes were wild, his hair disarrayed, his suit torn, but he wore a triumphant expression. Clearly, he had subdued Pat, which gave him a cocky strut. He had his arm around Denise, who still looked woozy, supporting her as he held a towel to her head, trying to staunch the bleeding.

  “I got him,” he announced to Nikki. “I knocked the son of a bitch out like a light and tied him up with his belt. Now, does somebody want to tell me just what the hell is going on here…”

  He trailed off, and his eyes widened as he spotted Martin sprawled amid the splintered pieces of the hockey stick.

  “You son of a bitch, I can’t believe this,” he howled, looking very much as if he wanted to weep in that moment of horrified comprehension. “Wayne Gretzky personally gave me that stick!”

  Chapter Thirty-three

  The police knew from the beginning that one of the Elliots had murdered Stephen.” Nikki poked her fork into the piece of chicken.

  Beneath the table, Kate could feel their knees touching, all the connection they could manage in these surroundings, but a comfort they both required. Neither of them seemed to be able to stop touching the other, as if needing constant reassurance that they were both there and whole.

  “They didn’t have enough evidence to link a particular member of the family to the death,” Kate finished Nikki’s thought, “but they were methodically building a case to convict Martin and Tiffany, working with Revenue Canada and the RCMP to tie it all together.”

  “That’s normally how these things operate.” Lorne Harris eyed Nikki sternly. Her latest adventure had obviously terrified him because he had called every day to make sure that both she and Kate were all right. “They should have been the ones to handle it all along.”

  “On the other hand, jumping in with both feet and stirring things up can also get the job done,” Irene Taylor interjected smoothly from her place at the head of the table. She had made all the arrangements for this gathering to celebrate not only Kate and Nikki’s solving of the case, but their new living arrangements as well. “It’s obviously a very successful investigation technique.”

  “It’s a thing of the past, Grandmother,” Kate said fervently, taking a sip of her wine. “This is the last time we’ll ever be involved with anything like this.”

  Nikki glanced at her from the corner of her eyes, smiled briefly, and returned to her dinner. If she didn
’t agree with Kate, at least she wasn’t about to voice that opposition publicly.

  “The Elliots lost so much.” Adele had appeared slightly intimidated upon entering Irene’s grand house, but after her hostess had applied considerable charm and warmth, she had relaxed considerably as dinner progressed. “I know I shouldn’t feel sorry for them after all they’ve put you through, but it’s still hard to believe. It’s frightening to see how quickly a family can turn on each other. All that money and success and they still weren’t satisfied.”

  “That’s because they never understood what was truly important.” Kate paused. “I take that back. Andrew seems to. He went rushing out to the house just because Tiffany told him she was sick and needed him. He really loved her, and it’s just about destroyed him to know how she was using him.”

  “He was blinded by the boobs,” Nikki said disdainfully, earning a snicker from Irene and a stern look from her parents. “So was Martin. He and Pat were the ones who coerced Stephen into setting the whole thing up way back when Stephen was the head of the IT department. They’d always held the drunk-driving thing over him, along with a few other past indiscretions. He was already responsible for the six people working in the IT department, and adding four more to the books didn’t seem like a big deal, particularly if it kept Martin and Pat off his back. He wouldn’t consider the extra money worth it, but for Martin and Pat, fifty thousand a year was more than sufficient to keep their mouths shut. Tiffany didn’t come into it until near the end.”

  “When Martin and Tiffany got involved in an affair, he let it slip what was going on,” Kate explained. “She immediately wanted to ‘help,’ maybe because of the illicitness. I guess the boys were just glad to have someone look after the mailboxes.”