Samantha tensed. “I had no idea you and Georgia were so close.”
“Georgia could live with the divorce,” Bones continued. “At least she had her dignity left, but then Abigail found out about Kyle, and threatened to tell everyone. Everyone in town would know that Morgan not only divorced her, but had cheated on her throughout their marriage. Georgia couldn’t live with that. She’d be the butt of bad jokes around town. And so she called me and we talked about what a problem Abigail had become.”
Fear slithered up Samantha’s spine as she gazed at the man she’d trusted, had thought was her friend. She felt as if she were caught in a spider web, held prisoner by Bones’s gaze, the matter-of-fact tone of his voice. She knew she should do something...that she was in danger, but she couldn’t move. “How...”
Bones smiled and set his brandy glass down by the foot of his chair. “The how was easy. Georgia paid a little visit to Abigail that morning, spiked the bottle of champagne with a handful of her sleeping pills. She knew Abigail loved her champagne, drank it every evening.”
“Dominic?”
“Wasn’t supposed to be there.” Bones grinned. “Imagine my surprise when I opened that bedroom door and found not one, but two unconscious people on the bed.” He shrugged. “Dominic was an unexpected gift. I knew if I let him live, he’d probably go down as the murderer and the case would be closed.” He frowned and rubbed his forehead. “But you wouldn’t leave it alone. You had to dig and dig.” He eyed Samantha with a touch of sympathy. “I tried to scare you off, Samantha. First with the brick, then with that.” He pointed to the cast on her leg.
At that moment, whatever spell had held her motionless in the chair snapped. He’d broken her leg. She drew in a deep breath, aware that she couldn’t function on impulse, had to remain calm and rational. Bones was dangerous, and the fact that he’d confessed to killing Abigail meant he didn’t intend for Samantha to live to use that information against him.
“It was easy to get Rick Brennon’s money clip. Most nights he gets drunk and leaves it lying on top of the bar. I left it next to you to muddy the waters. I didn’t want to hurt you, Samantha. Why couldn’t you just leave it all alone?”
“Because an innocent man was going to prison,” she retorted. “You’d better get out of here, Bones. Tyler should be home any minute. If you go now, perhaps you can escape, leave town.”
Bones gave her a sly, ugly smile that walked cold fingers of dread up Samantha’s spine. “Tyler won’t be joining you this evening—or any other evening, for that matter.”
Samantha’s breath caught painfully in her chest. “Wha—what does that mean?”
“Tyler met with a horrible accident at the law firm. A statue fell on his head.”
Samantha felt the world shift beneath her. For a single moment her heart seemed to stop beating as she tried to imagine this world without Tyler in it. No, no, it couldn’t be so! her heart cried. Not now, when she’d finally discovered the depth of her love for him.
The thought of Bones hurting Tyler filled her with an uncontrollable rage. Without hesitating, she thrust herself out of her chair and swung her broken leg up in the air, the heavy cast catching him full on the side of the head. With a grunt of surprise and pain, Bones toppled out of his chair and to the floor.
Samantha didn’t hang around to see what damage she’d done. She ran, her cast bumping clumsily against the carpet. Behind her she heard a cry of rage, a threat of death. She hurried in the only direction she could—up the stairs.
Tyler came to with a groan. The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was Jamison’s pewter statue of Justice, her eyes blindfolded, the scales she held covered with blood. Blood? Why was the statue bloody? Confusion swirled in his brain.
He sat up, for a moment disoriented as he looked around the office. The left side of his head pounded with a nauseating intensity. He touched it and was surprised when his fingers came away bloody. He stared at the statue—his blood.
With a gasp, he remembered. He stood, shoving away the dizziness that tried to grip him. Samantha. Her name raced through him with a prayer. Dear God, how long had he been knocked out? He had no idea why Bones had been in the office or what he’d been after, but as Tyler thought of Samantha alone in the house, his blood ran cold with heart-stopping fear.
He had to get to her, tell her Bones couldn’t be trusted. As he raced out of the building, his head ached not only from the physical blow it had sustained, but also from the confusion and questions that ripped through it.
Why had Bones been skulking around in Samantha’s office? What could he have to do with anything? Nothing made sense. Nothing except Tyler’s driving need to get to Samantha.
He suspected that Bones had assumed the blow to Tyler’s head had been a lethal one. Thank God for his excellent reflexes, Tyler thought. He’d managed to jerk his head in the instant before the statue made contact, transforming a killer blow into little more than a glancing one.
Still the questions came. What in the hell had Bones been after? What was so important he would kill for it? Did all this have something to do with Abigail Monroe’s death? Had he left Tyler lying on the office floor and gone to harm Samantha?
Tyler’s heart felt as if it would burst from his chest as he sped down Main Street toward the Dark mansion. Please...please...The words were a prayer a litany against evil. It couldn’t happen again. He had to reach Samantha in time.
He felt as if one of his nightmares had surrounded him, was overwhelming him. He remembered the sight of the police cars, the flashing lights—the sight of his mother dead. If only he’d gone home on time. If only he hadn’t blown off his curfew, he might have gotten home in time to save her. His fault...his fault...
He had to get home, had to save Samantha. He should have gone into her office, grabbed the briefcase, and headed home instead of sitting for so long at his desk.
It was all his fault—just like it had been when he was fourteen. If anything happened to Samantha he would go mad. He had to get to her in time.
As he turned down the long winding driveway that led to the house, his heart thundered with fear. Although there were no police cars, nothing to indicate a scene from his nightmares, he knew with certainty that Bones had come here for Samantha. Oh, God, don’t let him be too late.
The car squealed to a halt and Tyler was out and running before the motor had stopped. He exploded through the front door. “Samantha?” His cry was immediately swallowed by the utter silence of the house.
He strode into the study, his heart banging harshly against his chest. An overturned chair...a broken glass...a picture askew. Something bad had happened in here. His stomach ached, rivaling the pain in his head.
“Samantha!” He bellowed her name. He didn’t care about Bones hearing him. If Bones was still here, he wouldn’t catch Tyler unaware again. And Tyler would kill him if he’d harmed Samantha. He would kill him with a rage that had been bottled up for years, the rage that now bubbled inside him.
It took him only a moment to search the ground floor. Samantha was nowhere to be found. The side of his head hurt with the piercing intensity of a toothache, but he ignored the pain. Nothing mattered except finding Samantha.
He stood at the bottom of the staircase and looked up. The hallway was shadowy, although lights spilled out from each bedroom. He knew he wasn’t alone in the house, knew it the way an animal could sense the presence of its prey.
He dreaded climbing the stairs, afraid he would enter one of the rooms to find Samantha on one of the beds—dead. Just as his mother had been. He couldn’t survive it again. He would go mad with pain. With guilt.
He climbed the stairs slowly, dreading what he might find, warily listening for sounds that would indicate he wasn’t alone.
When he got to the top of the stairs he paused, still listening intently. Rational thought fell away as survival instincts kicked in. He kept any thought of Samantha out of his mind, knowing that to dwell on the possibility of h
er death would render him incapacitated.
He moved to the first bedroom door, wishing for a gun...a knife...anything that could be used as a weapon against Bones. His only comfort was his guess that Bones had no real weapon, either. Had Bones had a gun or a knife, he would have used them on Tyler at the office.
The first bedroom was empty. Tyler leaned against the wall and took a steadying breath. Where was Samantha? Her bedroom was empty as well. As was Tyler’s. In each room the closet doors hung open, as if somebody had looked inside, seeking something—or someone.
Tyler methodically worked his way down the hall until he stood in front of the closed door that led to Samantha’s mother’s room. If anyone was in the house, they had to be in this room. He gripped the doorknob, his palm slick with sweat. It made no noise as it turned and the door opened.
He released a sigh as he saw that the room was empty. Samantha wasn’t dead on the bed, nor did anyone else appear to be anywhere in the room. So, where was she?
A chilling wind swept through him. Had Bones come here and taken her someplace else? At this very moment was she locked in a car trunk? Being driven to the place where she would be murdered?
He started to leave the room, but hesitated as he saw the edge of the curtain caught in the closed balcony door. Frozen with fear, he stared at the door. Oh, God. No.
On wooden legs, he walked to the door, afraid to look out...afraid he would find Samantha below the balcony, broken in pieces on the patio below. He yanked open the door and gasped.
Samantha was there. With Bones. He had her pulled up against him, a knife held to her neck as she stood precariously close to the broken railing. A knife. Dammit. Tyler had hoped Bones would be weaponless, that the fight would be even.
“Stay back or I’ll slice her and throw her over the edge,” Bones threatened.
Samantha’s eyes were black with fear. “He killed Abigail, Tyler. And he’s the son of a bitch who broke my leg.”
In some disjointed part of his brain, Tyler realized it wasn’t fear darkening her eyes; it was pure, undiluted anger.
“What do you want?” Tyler demanded as he weighed his options. He couldn’t rush the man. The balcony was too small for such action. He would either fly over the edge or Bones would do as he’d warned and either slash Samantha’s throat or throw her over. It was too risky.
“I just want to get out of here. Things have fallen apart. Now, back up.”
“Let her go,” Tyler demanded.
Bones shook his head, his arm tightening around Samantha’s neck. “She’s my insurance. She comes with me. When I’m in a safe place I’ll let her go.”
Tyler knew the man was lying. He and Samantha knew too much for Bones to let them survive this night. Still, fearing Bones might follow up on his threat, Tyler backed up into the bedroom. At least in here, he would have space to maneuver.
As Tyler backed into the room, Bones and Samantha advanced. Tyler tensed, readying himself to attack.
“Don’t even think about it,” Bones warned as if reading his mind. “I can slice and dice her before you ever get to me.” As if to prove his point, he touched the tip of the knife to Samantha’s neck. She gasped a cry of pain as a tiny rivulet of blood bubbled from the tiny wound. Tyler felt the swirling darkness of his deepest rage.
“If you hurt her again, I’ll kill you.” Tyler’s voice sounded distant to his ears, filled with the cold, murderous instinct he’d once felt as a young man. He wouldn’t have it twice in a lifetime—not the death of somebody he loved. He would die himself before he would allow Bones to hurt Samantha.
Bones laughed with a chilling sound. “I’d say you’re in no position to threaten me.” His eyes narrowed. “Now, back out of the room and head downstairs.”
Unable to do anything else, Tyler did as he was told. As he backed down the stairs, his mind raced, seeking a way out that wouldn’t get Samantha killed in the process.
He reached the foyer and stared up to where Bones and Samantha slowly made their way down the stairs, the knife never wavering from beneath Samantha’s chin.
God help him, he didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to save her. The knife point pressed into the soft flesh of Samantha’s throat made any rescue attempt impossible.
Tyler clenched and unclenched his hand in futility. Helpless. He was utterly helpless and he knew if Bones harmed Samantha he’d kill Bones...but if anything happened to Samantha, Tyler also realized something would die inside him.
Halfway down the stairs, Samantha realized she had to do something. Bones wouldn’t be satisfied with just killing her. When he finished her he would go after Tyler. Tyler was strong, and she saw the rage that filled him, but his strength and anger couldn’t compete with a slashing knife. She couldn’t allow Bones to get to Tyler. She had to do something—fast.
Each step they took was awkward, hampered by Samantha’s cast and their dual movements as Bones tried to keep her close to him. Drawing a deep breath, knowing she might spend the rest of her life in a body cast, in one swift motion, Samantha smacked Bones’s hand that held the knife. As it clattered down the stairs, Samantha willed herself limp.
“Hey!”
Vaguely aware of Bones’s startled cry, she slid out of his grasp and tumbled head over heels down the stairs. She felt the brunt of each step against her body—bruising...pounding—until she hit the foyer on her back, her cast smacking against the floor with a dull thud.
“Samantha!” Tyler cried, and crouched over her as Bones turned and ran back up the stairs.
“Don’t just stand there...go after him,” she managed to gasp.
After only a moment’s hesitation, Tyler thundered up the stairs after Bones.
Cautiously, Samantha sat up, checking for the pain that would indicate something broken. Although sore, she didn’t think the fall had caused any major damage. She stood and picked up the knife, then lumbered up the stairs to help Tyler.
She found the two men back in her mother’s bedroom, brawling like two drunks in a bar. She stood in the doorway, unsure what to do as Tyler and Bones threw punches that landed on each other with deadly accuracy.
The side of Tyler’s head was bloodied and one of his eyes was swelling. Bones’s bottom lip had split and was leaking blood that smeared across his chin.
The men appeared evenly matched—Tyler with his anger and Bones with the need to survive. Back and forth their punches flew, like two boxers fighting to the finish.
Samantha screamed as they locked together and barreled out of the room and onto the balcony. She raced to the door, terror sweeping through her as their struggle brought them dangerously close to the edge.
She wanted to give Tyler the knife, but was afraid that somehow it would end up back in Bones’s hands. The two rolled on the balcony floor, first Bones on top of Tyler, then Tyler on top of Bones. Neither seemed to be able to get the upper hand.
Closer and closer to the brink they rolled, until finally Bones was on top of Tyler, Tyler’s torso hanging over the edge, through the space where her father had fallen, below the single board intended as a barrier. As Tyler’s hands sought purchase, gripping the lip of the balcony floor, Bones slid off him and began to shove him.
With a scream of outrage, Samantha attacked, plunging the knife deep into Bones’s back. He stiffened as the knife sank in, his face displaying shock. He stood, wavering like a reed in the wind, then fell over the edge and to the concrete below.
Sobbing, Samantha helped Tyler to safety. He stood and immediately wrapped her in his embrace. “I killed him,” she cried.
Tyler hugged her tighter. “No, you saved me.” He kissed her forehead, her tearstained cheeks, then her lips.
She clung to him, wondering if she would ever forget the moment when she thought he would plunge to his death. “I was so afraid,” she sobbed.
“It’s over now,” he said softly. “It’s all over.”
He led her back into the house and down the stairs. He called the police,
then they sat in the study to await the arrival of the authorities.
“It was Georgia. She’s responsible for Abigail’s death.” Samantha told Tyler what she’d learned from the reports Wylie had given her. “She sent Bones here after I called her. She knew that I knew about the adoption.” Samantha shivered. “I think it was a combination of things that pushed her over the edge—the divorce, Morgan’s marriage to Abigail, then Abigail threatening to tell about Kyle’s parentage. She hired Bones to kill Abigail. Dominic just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
Tyler held her close and she squeezed her eyes closed, remembering those moments before Tyler had arrived, when Bones had bragged about the murder, about breaking her leg in order to scare her off the case. He’d intended to kill her on the balcony. Would have killed her if Tyler hadn’t arrived when he had.
“The important thing is you did what you wanted to do. Dominic will be released.”
Yes, Dominic was vindicated. She’d been right all along. She smiled up at Tyler. “I’m one hell of a lawyer, aren’t I?”
He returned her smile. “You’re not just one hell of a lawyer—you’re one hell of a woman.”
Before he could say anything more, the sound of sirens filled the room and there was knocking at the door. The police had arrived.
“Tired?” Tyler closed the front door after the last officer had left. Dawn streaked strands of brilliant orange across the eastern sky. It had been a night of questions and explanations.
Samantha nodded. “Exhausted.”
“Why don’t you go to bed? There’s nothing more that needs to be done. Dominic will be released. Georgia is under arrest and from what the sheriff told me, she has made a full confession.” Georgia had spilled her guts, telling the police of her hatred for Abigail, who’d stolen her husband and intended to wreak havoc on her life by exposing the secret that Kyle was Morgan’s, but not hers. The secret Abigail had been killed for was that Kyle was the result of an illicit affair. And Georgia hadn’t wanted the good people of Wilford to know her husband had been unfaithful to her during their marriage. She’d killed Abigail for pride.
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