Stupid. So stupid and egotistical a dream. Yes, and proof of his incredible ignorance of the high pinnacle she’d been standing on when she’d first dared to look down on his town and his people.
Dumb backcountry sheriff that he might be, undoubtedly was, he could see, now, that it was impossible she would ever leave it.
18
Tory heard voices coming from the living room as she let herself into the house on her return from Fort Myers. She glanced back at the parking apron half hidden among the trees for some clue as to her stepfather’s guest. No vehicle was visible. Frowning a little, she closed the door. The voices stopped. After a second, Paul Vandergraff appeared in the doorway with a glass of malt scotch in his hand.
“Tory, my dear, here you are at last,” he said as if she were merely late to dinner instead of returning after being kidnapped. “Come in and join us for a drink.”
She hesitated, surveying him from what felt like a new perspective. Slender, tanned to a perfect toast brown that set off his close-cropped silver hair, he had a dapper appearance that he cultivated with white Polo shirts in summer and cashmere sweaters and ascots in the winter. Where once she’d considered him the epitome of East Coast sophistication and polish, he now seemed merely superficial. He hadn’t changed, which meant that she had, drastically. As he swung back into the room, she put her keys and handbag on the foyer table and followed him with the heels of her Italian leather shoes clicking on the marble floor.
Her ex-fiancé got to his feet as she entered. “Darling, what a surprise. I thought you were settled in Louisiana.”
“Harrell. How lovely,” she said with a twist of her lips for the obviousness of the charade. Moving to the drink table, she poured cold mineral water into a glass. Over her shoulder, she said, “But you thought wrong. Naturally, I returned to Florida. It’s where my business interests are located, after all. But I can’t say I’m surprised to see you here with Paul, thick as thieves, after our last meeting.”
“Please, darling, let’s don’t start that again.” Harrell glanced at Paul Vandergraff as if to say, What did I tell you?
“Why not? Your threats aren’t something I’m likely to forget. Believe me.” She turned to face them armored in her gray designer suit worn with a silk blouse, her mother’s gray-pink pearls, and with her hair in a smooth French twist. She could do the lady of wealth and breeding as well as any debutante when it was required. This was one of those times.
“Personally, I’d prefer not to be reminded that you ran away with a couple of beach bums. However, your little crime spree in Louisiana with them may be more difficult to wipe from the record than previous escapades.”
“There was no crime spree,” she declared, including Paul in the cold glance she leveled at Harrell. “Rather, I escaped being murdered by the grace of God and the quick action of Sheriff Roan Benedict.”
“A man you quickly fell in love with—or at least you fell into his bed.”
“I did not—” She stopped, took a deep breath. “Were you ever attracted to me at all, Harrell, or was it always about the money? Does it bother you, being a fortune hunter, or do you think it makes you look smart to dance circles around a woman because a lucky accident made her rich?”
He shook his head. “Please don’t say such things. I love you, of course, as I’ve always loved you. I know I said terrible things the other night, but I was hurt and angry.”
“Speaking of which,” she drawled, “how is your arm? No sign of rabies, I hope?”
“It’s all right,” he said, his face darkening. “No thanks to you and your Casanova with a badge.”
She smiled at the description before she said gently, “I’m also healing well, thank you both for asking.”
Paul had the grace to look embarrassed as he said, “That’s good news indeed.”
Harrell gave her a pained look. “You think I haven’t been worried? Your welfare has never been out of my mind.”
“I’m sure.”
“We really need to talk, darling. Let’s go somewhere quiet, where we can sit down and—”
“Quiet and deserted? You must think I’m an idiot.”
“Really, Victoria, you need to cut Harrell some slack,” Paul said before lifting his drink to take a swallow.
“Why?” she asked as she swung her head to stare at him. “I’m not interested in making it easier for him to kill me.”
“There’s no question of that.” Irritation was strong in his voice.
“You weren’t there, so how can you know? I don’t understand why you’re taking Harrell’s side. Unless it’s because you’d as soon I disappeared so you could mismanage my estate in peace?”
He stood still, staring at her with his glass forgotten in his hand. “Mismanage? That would be funny if it weren’t so unbelievable.”
“It’s neither one, according to my lawyers. You’ve seriously depleted my assets while increasing your own. You have, apparently, mishandled investments, manipulated stock portfolios, and transferred cash holdings in ways that look extremely suspicious. The only good thing I can say for you is that you haven’t, at least so far as I know, taken a leaf from Harrell’s book and forged my signature to fraudulent documents.”
The color drained away from Paul’s face, leaving it gray and skull-like. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. He transferred his gaze to the glass in his hand, staring into the melting ice of his drink.
Tory knew then, though the possibility had lurked somewhere in her mind for days, even weeks. She took a deep breath before she went on. “But you did, didn’t you? Someone had to authorize access to my accounts after I came of age. You must have become quite good at copying my signature. You’re the one who signed the documents that guaranteed Harrell’s participation in the gaming scheme. How convenient, especially when I wasn’t around to complain.”
“I never meant for you to be hurt.”
No doubt he’d closed his mind to the probability, she thought, just as he’d managed not to think of her mother’s distress at being shut away all those years ago. But at least his cooperation in the deal accounted for why there had been no report, no furor, over her disappearance, even after all this time.
“Why?” she asked because she couldn’t help herself. “You couldn’t need the money.”
“You think not?” His smile was grim. “But it’s always been there for you, hasn’t it? Accumulating more holds no attraction. With me, it’s otherwise.”
“You get a kick out of increasing your wealth? Even when it’s by stealing millions from my mother? And from me?”
“It was just lying there, tons of it for which you’d done nothing. Why shouldn’t I?”
The affront in his tone was almost plausible. It was as if he saw no contradiction in what he’d just said, had no understanding that the fraudulent use of someone else’s wealth to increase his own net worth was unacceptable, as if he were exempt from the laws that applied to lesser thieves. It made her wonder just how much of his industrial empire was a sham, perhaps a cover for less savory forms of making money.
“You fool!” Harrell glared at Paul Vandergraff with contempt curling his lips. “Now we’ll have to get rid of her, and it won’t be easy after this other mess.”
“This other mess was your brilliant solution, if you’ll remember,” her stepfather snapped back. “Anyway, we can still put her away. Find the right doctor and pay him enough, and nobody will listen to a word she says.”
“We can’t take that chance. The people we’re dealing with don’t like loose ends.”
Tory laughed, she couldn’t help it, though the noise had a winded sound. The threat Paul had just made had hovered for years, unspoken, over their relationship. Fear of it was what had left her so unsettled, she thought, so unable to concentrate on where she was going with her life. It was almost a relief to have it out in the open.
At the same time, she knew she’d made a mistake in revealing all her suspicions. The lawyers she’d been closeted with fo
r the past several hours had warned her to leave the house at once, then discuss the situation only in the presence of legal representatives. She’d have been glad to comply, given the chance. Confronted by the two men, she’d more or less depended on her stepfather to behave in a civilized manner about her discoveries and Harrell to control his more vicious impulses in Paul’s presence. Now that she’d begun, however, she could see no way to stop. And it was good to find out the truth, at last.
Fear thrummed along her veins, but not in the same way that it might once have. Her stepfather had always seemed such a powerful man. Now he appeared effete and almost pathetic. She’d grown used to seeing the Benedict men around her, she thought, so her frame of reference had stretched to a larger scale. She had learned to measure men like Harrell and Paul against it and discovered that they came up lacking.
“Is that what Zits and Big Ears were, ‘loose ends?”’ she inquired in pensive curiosity.
Harrell gave a dismissive shrug. “They bungled everything, then had the nerve to put the bite on me to keep quiet about it.”
“So you killed them.”
“It’s what they deserved.”
The lack of emotion in his voice was chilling. She would not let it affect her more than she could help. “You’ll excuse me, I hope, but I may be something more than a loose end. I did mention that I’d had a conference with my lawyers this afternoon?”
She had their abrupt and total attention. Paul recovered first. A frown gathered between his brows as he asked, “What have you done?”
“Something I should have seen to a long time ago. I’m now in charge of my affairs, financial and otherwise. The first order of business will be a complete audit. When the extent of the damage done under your stewardship has been established, I will abolish the elaborate structure of family trusts you put in place and assume control. Naturally, you will be expected to cooperate fully with the transfer of authority.”
Paul laughed. “Your lawyers? If you mean the family firm, I’ve been playing golf with those men for decades. They’re friends of mine. Hell, half of them have bought Aspen condos and fleets of Mercedes off my business. All I have to do is explain how things stand and the problem will disappear.”
“I don’t think so. The present head of the firm was a friend of my mother’s, a good friend. His father went to Yale with my grandfather. They understand perfectly that I am ready to see after my own interests.”
“I’m sure your mental instability will be a factor in just who—”
“We also discussed the viability of a suit for libel. They expressed themselves as happy to pursue the matter on my behalf should you attempt to bring up such an issue. In the meantime, an independent accounting firm has been retained for the audit. You will deliver all books, records and documents pertaining to my inheritance from my mother to their office within forty-eight hours.”
“That’s impossible and you know it!” Paul sputtered. “It will take the accountants at least a week to prepare the documents.”
“Preparation isn’t necessary,” she responded. “Nor are adjustments. You will turn everything over as is, both for our sake and yours.”
His hand shook so the ice in his glass tinkled as he raised the scotch to his lips. It was, she thought, a positive sign that he needed time to doctor the books to cover up the misuse of trust accounts. Remembering her mother’s last days, it didn’t exactly hurt Tory to see it.
When it seemed he would make no reply, she went on again. “In the meantime, there will be no transfer of assets unless I sign off on them with my legal representative as a witness. A sworn statement is now on record of my refusal to participate in any way in Harrell’s—excuse me, yours and Harrell’s—gambling venture or any other to which either of you are a party.” She looked at Harrell. “As for you, the gaming commission for the state of Louisiana has been contacted concerning your fraudulent application. You will be receiving a demand for the immediate return of all copies of documents that contain signatures forged with my name.”
“You bitch,” Harrell said, though the words were blank with shock.
“I did warn you, if you’ll remember,” Tory said, her gaze direct. “You have twenty-four hours.”
“You’re very big on time constraints, aren’t you?” Paul sneered.
She gave him a brief glance. “Some things are better done quickly. I should also tell you, I think, that I made a will. If anything happens to me, bequests will be made to various charities, but the bulk of my estate will go to a young man in Louisiana named Jake Benedict.”
Harrell swore again, though the words were little more than a whisper.
“You can’t do that,” Paul protested.
“I believe I can. In fact, it’s done. If you don’t intend to comply with the requests, you are free to retain your own lawyer to draft a response.”
“That damn hick sheriff,” Harrell said. “This is his doing.”
“Not at all.”
He snorted. “You’d never have had the nerve if not for him.”
That much was true, she knew, though not in the way Harrell meant. She didn’t expect Roan to back her up on this play, but his steadfast example of doing what he thought was right, regardless of the consequences, had given her the courage to stand up to her fears and fight back. No matter what happened, she would always be grateful for that.
“This is incredible,” Paul said. “I can’t believe you’d do this to me.”
“What’s incredible is that you think I wouldn’t after what you did to my mother,” she said.
“I’ve been a father to you, given you everything…”
“You tolerated me for the sake of the money. Barely.”
“I managed your fortune, yes. It was natural that I take charge.”
“And unnatural to leave it in trust, then allow me to handle it myself when I came of age? You would think that way, wouldn’t you? It’s so convenient.”
Paul’s face mirrored his disgust. “It’s more than unnatural, it’s obscene for people like you and your mother to have so much. What were you going to do with it? Give it away, as you’re handing it over to this young yokel?”
“What’s obscene is piling it up for show or to make some meaningless list of millionaires. What’s obscene is having me abducted with the idea of putting a permanent end to my ability to interfere in your financial fun. As for giving away what I own, that will happen only if—” She stopped, since the answer to that line of reasoning was far too obvious.
“If you die,” Harrell said with grim anticipation in his face. He put a hand under the linen jacket that he wore, and took a snub-nosed pistol from the hollow of his back. The bore was ugly, snoutlike, as it centered on her midsection.
“There’s no benefit in killing me,” she said with trenchant reason, even as she felt her abdomen muscles clench and her lips turn cold.
“Nothing except making sure that you don’t talk to anyone who matters.”
“Roan knows already. If anything happens to me, he’ll be looking for you. As will my lawyers.”
“Maybe, though your lawman is in Louisiana and may not care to chase after a dead woman.” Harrell gave a doleful shake of his head even as he waved his pistol toward the door, then crowded her, heading her in that direction. “Besides, there’s not much any of them can do if you take your own life, now is there? And I think you just may. You’ve been unstable for years, and Paul will vouch for it. Now there’s this strange behavior of running off with two weirdos on a crime spree, getting yourself shot, pretending amnesia—oh, yes, and getting involved with the lawman who shot you. You’ve been ripe to tip over the edge for a long time, no doubt about it. It won’t be a big surprise if you take a long swim out into the gulf and don’t come back.”
“I’m headed for the edge?” she asked in grim sarcasm. “You’re the crazy one, especially if you think I’m going swimming any time soon.” She eased away from him as she stepped through the door into the foyer, but th
ere was no way to make a break for it.
“Oh, I didn’t say you were going alone. It will be my pleasure to join you, then make sure that you go out with the tide. It’s in, you know, and it’s high.” He indicated the hallway that led off at a right angle. “Come along, darling. Let’s get this over.”
He really was insane; there was no other word for it.
She thought of refusing, of making him drag her kicking and fighting from the house. Dignity wouldn’t allow it. More than that, it seemed foolish to waste energy that she might need for better things.
Appealing to her stepfather for intervention seemed worse than useless. He’d raised no objection to Harrell’s plans to this point, and there was no reason to think he would, or that Harrell would listen if he did. All she could do for now was move ahead of her former fiancé while keeping her eyes open for a chance, any chance, to get away from him.
It seemed so unreal that she might die. In spite of what she’d gone through in Turn-Coupe, her mind rejected the possibility. She felt invincible inside herself, full of life and hope and promise. That it could all end, that one person could remove the surge and flow of life from another human being, was an outrage and a tragedy. It should not be physically possible.
The hall they were in led to an exercise room and sauna on one side and a courtyard on the other. The courtyard was a secluded oasis of greenery and silence, with palms that cast moving shadows on the walls and a wrought iron gate for beach access.
The live-in housekeeper was nowhere in sight. She was either preparing dinner in the kitchen wing of the house, or else had retreated to her own quarters. Harrell seemed alert to her possible presence since he kept checking behind them and paused before stepping past open doors. Only when they reached the courtyard, moving along the winding path that led to the beach gate, did he appear to relax his guard somewhat.
Sanibel was an island with few public beaches. Gulf or bay frontage was private, a privilege included in the astronomical cost of beachfront real estate. The stretch that went with the Vandergraff place was larger than most, a wide swath of deserted beige-white sand. It was washed this evening by the thunderous waves of an offshore storm combined with high tide. The wave action had left a black lace border along the sand’s edge of broken shells and plant debris. The wind off the water was strong enough to take the tops off the surf and carry the salt spray all the way to the courtyard. It rustled the sea grapes and waved the palms overhead so they clattered with a sound like rain. Gulls dipped and soared overhead, their sharp cries piercing and mournful yet wild.
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