by Alice Sharpe
“This is becoming an untenable situation,” Dr. Priestly said, Mac’s gun now gripped tight with both hands. It appeared the doctor wasn’t sure who he wanted to shoot more, Mac or his wife.
Kate met her father-in-law’s gaze. “Sir, please. Your wife is…sick. Surely you can see she needs help. Give Mac back his gun—”
Paula’s small but lethal weapon came down on top of Kate’s head with a perfectly aimed thump that set stars to spinning. Kate stumbled on the stairs and fell, hitting her knee, pitching forward, caught at the last moment by two sturdy hands that had to belong to Mac. They both tumbled backward until the wall stopped them just short of crashing to the floor. The painting on the wall rattled against the paneling as Mac steadied her.
And for the instant his hands were in contact with her skin, Kate felt a surge of strength. Her heart soared.
Paula barked, “Both of you stay right there!”
Reality hit with a bang. Kate tried to open her eyes; the world was still spinning and she felt woozy. But she knew that leaning on Mac would hamper his movement and he was their best chance. She forced her eyes open, fought the nausea and stood on her own two feet.
Dr. Priestly had moved away, as though to distance himself from the whole situation. Paula had descended within a few steps of the bottom. She pointed her gun at Mac’s forehead. Mac was still and watchful, his big body tense and prepared for action. Kate was scared to death for him.
“It’s true,” Dr. Priestly said, addressing Mac as though Mac had the power to forestall the current disaster-in-the-making. His words gushed like water from a clogged gutter spout. “Paula was furious when Kate mentioned moving away. She went berserk and pushed Kate down the stairs. Thankfully, the servants were gone, so no one else saw what she’d done. Kate came to eventually, but she didn’t know who she was or what had happened to her.”
“You shot her full of something that guaranteed she’d stay that way,” Paula snapped. “And you’re the one who called Bellows.”
“Casey Bellows had done some work for a doctor friend of mine, a man with one too many girlfriends,” Dr. Priestly said as though discussing a consultation with a specialist to treat a medical emergency.
Mac said, “So you paid Bellows to drive Kate to Indiana? You were from Illinois originally, from Chicago, right? Billington is north of there. You must have known what an inhospitable place it could be in January.”
“I just knew it was a good long distance from here,” Dr. Priestly said.
“Daniel told Bellows to keep Kate sedated all the way,” Paula said. “I’m the one who thought of switching to street drugs so her condition wouldn’t be traced back to a doctor. I told Bellows to take his time getting her there and to make sure he stripped her down to her underwear before he released her.”
Kate chanced a quick glance at Mac. That underwear had led them right back to this present moment.
And perhaps to their deaths.
“The drugs were strong,” Dr. Priestly said, “but I knew eventually Kate would recover her memory and make her way back home.”
“But by then, you’d have compromised her reputation, taken control of the boys and their trust funds, shut Kate out of her own life. Is that about right?” Mac demanded.
“It was better than killing her outright like she wanted to do,” Dr. Priestly said, using Mac’s gun to point at his wife.
“But why didn’t you just explain away the fall as an accident?” Kate asked, curious as well as anxious to keep everyone talking instead of shooting.
“Because sooner or later you would have remembered it wasn’t an accident. Then you’d have made accusations and involved the police.”
“Before he had the chance to imperil your right to your kids,” Mac added, his hand brushing hers.
“I have a reputation in this community to protect,” Dr. Priestly said, recovering a little of his bravado. “The people of Boward Key need me.”
“But no one would have believed me,” Kate insisted. It was stunning to realize that two people were dead and she and Mac stood poised on the brink of extinction all because, basically, of this man’s ego. “It would have been your word against mine.”
“That’s not the point,” Paula said, “If we’d done it that way, you would eventually have taken the twins away. That was unacceptable. My son is dead. I will not let you have his sons as well, or control even one penny of my father’s money. Unthinkable! If we’d just killed you, it would have all been over, but Daniel got cold feet and hired that man to take you away. And that would have worked, too, if Mr. MacBeth hadn’t found you.”
“I want it made perfectly clear that I never ordered Casey Bellows to kill anyone,” Dr. Priestly said anxiously.
And his vehemence on this point gave Kate a spark of hope. Dr. Priestly was trying hard to blame everything on his wife. His wife was trying hard to blame the lion’s share on her husband. Maybe she and Mac were going to walk away after all…
“A doctor saves lives, he doesn’t take them,” Dr. Priestly repeated. It was, apparently, his mantra. Did he really believe it absolved him of complicity?
“Which means you ordered the murder of Dr. Michael Wardman,” Mac said, glaring at Paula Priestly.
“I never heard of the man.”
“Maybe you know him better as the bum whose clothes wound up on Kate.”
“Oh, him. Well, once Kate found you and you started asking questions, that bum became a liability.”
“So, you see, that was Paula’s idea,” Dr. Priestly pointed out to Mac. “She just admitted it. You’re witnesses. After you came into the picture, Paula took over with Bellows. All I did was have him take Kate to safety.”
Paula Priestly tossed her perfectly coifed head. “Stop trying to blame all of this on me, Daniel,” she said crossly. “Now, shoot these two. I’ve set the groundwork, we’ll stage it like a break-in. They came here to kidnap our grandchildren and we had to defend those poor little hapless babies. By using Mr. MacBeth’s gun, it’ll look as though you overpowered him in a struggle. Heroic stuff. Go on…”
“I’ll do no such thing. I’m not guilty of anything but compassion.”
“We’re both into this up to our eyeballs,” Paula said. “Don’t kid yourself.”
“But a doctor saves lives, he—”
“Give it a rest,” Paula spat.
Dr. Priestly looked about the foyer as though searching for a misplaced resolution to his current predicament. He finally said, “Then we’ll find Bellows. He’ll know what to do—”
“Bellows,” Paula scoffed, coming the rest of the way down the stairs. “He was supposed to make sure Kate never got back to Florida. He screwed that up. Then he was supposed to make sure she never stepped foot in this house. He screwed that up, too. The only one Bellows has managed to kill since he got rid of that bum up in Billington is Nellie and I bet he only killed her because she was in the wrong place at the wrong time. The man is hopeless. I don’t plan on paying him another penny.”
“Well now, I’m real sorry to hear that,” a deep voice announced.
MAC HAD BEEN so caught up in the present that he’d all but forgotten about Nellie’s killer.
The wake-up call came in the form of the man himself, entering from the direction of the kitchen, holding in his good hand what appeared to be the same gun he’d fired at Mac just a few minutes before. The dark hilt of a knife jutted above the scabbard tied around his right thigh. Despite his cavalier tone of voice, the man looked to be teetering on the verge of an eruption.
Paula Priestly didn’t miss a beat. “Oh, good, you’re here, Bellows,” she said. “Take Mr. MacBeth’s gun from Dr. Priestly, won’t you?” Gesturing at Kate and Mac, she added, “Shoot them.”
Bellows said, “I’ve got my own gun. And then there’s my knife.” Leering at Kate, he added, “You like knives, don’t you, sweetheart?”
A small cry escaped Kate’s lips and Mac felt a tidal wave of fury aimed solely at the man in front of h
im. In that moment, he knew this bastard better kill him first because the second he tried to hurt Kate, Mac would take him out. He wasn’t sure how, but he would.
The vengeance pinching Bellows’s narrow features was proof positive of the trouble he felt Kate had caused him. That undoubtedly had been the reason he’d given up trying to kill her with a knife and switched to a more dependable long-distance weapon like a gun. Given half a chance, Bellows would carve Kate into small pieces and enjoy doing it.
Just let him try.
Bellows glanced at Paula and added, “Besides, you just fired me.”
“And now I’m rehiring you. I’ll pay you double what I told you before.”
Bellows’s eyes lit up with greed. “Triple,” he said.
“Whatever. Just get it over with. Oh, and try to make it look like you struggled. Just be sure to use Mr. MacBeth’s gun. Give it to him, Daniel.”
Doctor Priestly blew his last chance for redemption as he handed Mac’s gun to Nellie’s killer. Bellows had to tuck the weapon into his waistband before he could accept Mac’s revolver. He aimed Mac’s gun at Kate and smiled.
And Mac suddenly understood Paula Priestly’s ploy. You had to hand it to the woman—she thought fast on her feet.
When the law arrived in a few minutes, summoned by a distraught call from the mistress of the house, they would find Mac and Kate dead, killed by the same man who carried a knife stained with Nellie’s blood. Paula would tell the cops that Bellows had broken into her house and that while Bellows took Mac’s gun from him, she’d managed to sneak off and get her own gun, which she then used to shoot Bellows. Tragically, she would be too late to save Mac and Kate.
Ultimately, Paula would shift all blame and any unanswered questions onto Bellows, who would be way too dead to argue the fine points.
Couldn’t Bellows see what was coming?
Was he consumed with revenge, or was he just stupid?
Kate closed her eyes.
Mac waited until he heard the click of the hammer. In the instant it took Bellows to register that the chamber of Mac’s gun was as empty as Paula Priestly’s heart, Mac sprang at the woman, gripped her hand, and swung her arm. By the time he took aim at Bellows, the killer had instinctively reverted to his knife, launching it in the same instant that Mac pressed down on Paula’s trigger finger with a force born of cold hatred.
Bellows took a bullet in the forehead just as his knife tore through tender flesh.
Kate screamed and fell to the floor.
THE AMBULANCE left without sirens. The knife, intended for Mac, had instead pierced Paula Priestly’s carotid artery, and despite the administrations of her frantic husband, she’d bled to death in seconds.
There was no need for sirens.
Dr. Priestly sat in the back of the squad car, head bent. As police combed the crime scene, Mac and Kate found a bench in the front yard on which to sit. Harry, whom Kate held, spoke gobbedlygook to his mother. Charlie was sound asleep in Mac’s arms.
Not that he could yet tell the difference between the boys. All he knew was that this was the first time in his life he’d held a slumbering baby, and that it felt—dare he even think it?—good. Really good. Comfortable and fulfilling, somehow, very satisfying.
He glanced at Kate who had her arms wrapped tightly around Harry. He was relieved to see that she appeared to be almost completely recovered from the dead faint that had protected her from watching Paula Priestly die. Only the pale cast to her lightly tanned skin remained, and as the sunlight hit her face, Mac knew even that would soon change.
Officer Dryer ambled over, surrounded by a cloud of smoke. While Mac couldn’t read the policeman’s expression, he felt one thing was certain: Boward Key would be buzzing about what happened here for weeks, months, even years to come.
“I’ll need you both to drop by headquarters tomorrow to go over your statements again,” Dryer said, stamping out his cigarette with the toe of his shoe. When he caught sight of Mac’s pointed glare, he picked up the butt and turned back to look toward the police car. “I never would have dreamed that a man like the doc would get involved in something like this.”
“He’s a proud man with a huge ego,” Mac said. “In my experience, they’re the worst kind.”
“And Paula Priestly. I can’t hardly believe any of it. If the doc hadn’t started blabbing, I might have hauled you two off to jail.”
“I hope you aren’t waiting for us to be grateful to him,” Mac said.
Dryer shook his head. “Nah. I can’t believe you went in there with an empty gun. That could have backfired on you.”
Mac shrugged. “My ammunition was back in the motel. I figured an empty gun was better than nothing. Besides, Kate was in there, I wasn’t really thinking straight.”
“Well, it all worked out. Sort of.”
Mac got the feeling Officer Dryer would have found a scene that included Mac and Kate slain by a mad killer who had then been shot by the wife of the most prestigious doctor in town more to his liking.
Tough.
“Did you get the message I left this morning asking you to fingerprint my motel room?” Mac asked. “There should be a good set on the chair.”
“I just got a call from the lab. The prints belong to a two-bit legman, name of Seymor Boyd, works for a Vegas high roller everyone calls the Boston Olive for reasons unknown,” Dryer said.
Mac smiled. “Seymor, huh? No wonder he preferred Elvis.”
Dryer grunted. “We’ve got an APB out on Seymor and Nevada police are looking for Olive. We’ll get ’em.” He tipped his hat at Kate and plodded back to the house as the squad car holding Dr. Priestly pulled out of the driveway. Mac watched Kate’s gaze follow the receding red lights until they were no longer in view. As tears spilled over her cheeks, Harry reached up and patted her face.
She kissed his pudgy fingers and, casting Mac an under-the-eyelash look, said, “I want to load my kids into a car and run away from here.” Her grasp on her son was so tight it might take the jaws of life to save the poor kid from his mother’s love.
“I don’t blame you,” Mac said, but his heart seized. What would he do if she ran away? Return to Billington, assuming Confit won his election, take a job he’d never have the heart to do without her at his side, go on as if he’d never met her? Die inside?
“I have an alternative,” he whispered.
She waited.
“Come back to Billington with me.”
She looked at him, her lips curved into a beautiful smile. “Oh, Mac, wouldn’t that be wonderful?”
“I’ve been offered the job of chief of police,” he added. “Of course, it’s kind of an iffy offer at this point, but who knows?”
“You should take it.”
“I’m considering it,” he told her. “I just thought that maybe you should have some input into where you spend the rest of your life.”
As her smile wilted, he realized she wasn’t going to come home with him.
“Kate—”
“Hush,” she told him.
“No. I can’t hush.” He looked so deep in her eyes that he could see her soul and added, “I love you.”
She smiled faintly. “You’ve only known me a week and a half.”
“I knew how I felt about you in a day and a half,” he said.
“We’ve both acted rashly in our pasts. We’ve both thought we were in love before.”
“Not like this,” he protested.
“No, not like this,” she said, nodding. Almost shyly, she added, “I love you, too, Mac. How could I not love you?”
Thank heavens he’d read her wrong. He started to gather her and Harry into what would have to pass for a hug, seeing as Charlie took up most of his lap and all of one arm, but she held him off.
“All my life I’ve been running,” she said as Harry squirmed and she relaxed her hold on him. She cast Mac a quick glance and added, “It’s time for me to stop.”
He furrowed his brow. “Loving me isn�
��t running—”
“Well, you see, how do I know that for sure? Running off with you is what I want desperately to do. Desperately.”
“Then—”
“But the boys need to stay right here in the only home they’ve ever known, at least for a little while, Mac. There have been so many shattering changes in their lives. They need stability. The three of us need time.”
“Then I’ll stay with you,” he said.
She touched his cheek and smiled. “It’s too soon for that,” she whispered.
He started to protest and then he remembered what she’d said before they found Nellie’s body, that he didn’t trust her in the important ways. It hadn’t made sense then, but now he thought he understood. He had to trust her to love him. Trust her to want him. Ultimately, he had to trust the fact that he deserved this from her, that being loved was his right, just as loving others was his privilege.
“Will you give me this time?” she said.
“Can I fly down here every few days? Will you teach me to swim? Can I teach the boys how to fish?”
She laughed as tears filled her eyes. As she buried her head against his shoulder, he put his arm around her and closed his eyes. For a moment, he was floating in a paradise, and somehow, Kate was both anchor and magic carpet.
When their lips met, he forgot everything else. They had survived; it was a miracle. All he wanted, all it seemed he had ever wanted, was to kiss her, to make her his. He didn’t care about her past or his own, either. They would help each other come to grips with remembered pain, they would help each other find joy in forever.
No doubt half the police force of Boward Key was watching, but he didn’t care. He needed this kiss more than any kiss he’d ever needed in his whole life and he could feel that Kate needed it, too. It lasted until Harry’s babble distracted them both.
As the tiny boy pointed at a nearby tree and chattered like a squirrel about something or other, Mac looked down at the sleeping child in his lap and felt a sense of belonging he’d never experienced before. And a sense of excitement. The next few months would be full of discoveries for all of them.