Same Place, Same Time

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Same Place, Same Time Page 21

by C. J. Carmichael

Trista’s mind whirled as she realized that if she was going to get out of this alive, she had to do something while they were still on dry ground. With a sudden twist of her body, she flew backward into Sylvia, hoping to knock her down and somehow wrestle the gun from her grasp.

  “DAMN THESE DIRT ROADS,” Morgan cursed as the jostling of the car on the dried ruts forced him to lower his speed fractionally.

  “We’re almost there,” Suni said encouragingly, leaning forward in her seat, her eyes searching out the road ahead of them. “Their cottage is at the end of this access road. We’d better not turn in, though, or we’ll alert them that we’re coming.”

  Morgan nodded, saying nothing in reply. The closer they got, the more alarm bells went off in his head. His last call to headquarters had confirmed that they still hadn’t managed to locate Nan Walker. He was sure he knew why. Trista had walked right into a trap, and he himself had provided the cheese.

  Morgan squinted against the glare of the midday sun. Surely that was the end of the road just up ahead?

  “There it is!” Suni confirmed. “Slow down!”

  Morgan reduced his speed, parking behind a group of cedars that effectively blocked the view of their vehicle from the road.

  “Okay, we’ll go by foot from here.” Morgan hopped out of the driver’s seat and Suni was right behind him as he cautiously made his way down the driveway, walking through the thick underbrush along the side of the road.

  In the driveway they could see Sylvia Hawthorne’s navy blue Volvo. Far off to the right, behind a shed of some sort, Morgan thought he caught a glimpse of sunlight on metal. That would be Nan Walker’s vehicle, or he would hang up his badge and start cleaning cars for a living.

  Telling Suni to wait, he quickly sprinted toward the shed to get a closer look. When he returned a minute later, his expression was grim. “That’s Nan Walker’s car.”

  “You think both women did it, don’t you?” Suni asked quietly.

  Morgan nodded.

  “Stay back here in the woods where they can’t see you,” he said in a whisper. “I’m going to move up closer and try to assess the situation. If any trouble breaks out, run back to the car and drive the hell out of here. I’ve called for backup, but it will be at least fifteen minutes before they get here.”

  He ran ahead a few yards, then stopped and cocked his head. The gut-wrenching fear and anxiety he’d felt in the car had gone now. In its place was a cold determination, and the pure relief of finally being able to do something. He could hear the sound of voices quite clearly all of a sudden. Remembering the way sound travels over water, he turned toward the boathouse. He had to push forward and get out from behind some low-lying bushes, before he could get a view of the lake.

  And there they were. Three women standing on the dock. The dark-haired one—Sylvia—was holding something in her hand. Something metal, that seemed to glow in its reflection of the sun’s rays. So there was another gun. Just his luck.

  SYLVIA FELL to one side with the impact of Trista’s maneuver, but she didn’t lose her grip on the gun.

  “Stand back!” she shouted, pointing it at Trista as she slowly worked herself back to a standing position. “That was very stupid. Next time you try it, you’ll have a bullet in the head for your trouble.” She shoved the gun into the small of Trista’s back and pushed her up the long length of the dock.

  Trista gritted her teeth in frustration. If only she’d hit her a little harder, her ploy might have worked. Now she doubted she’d get a second chance.

  “Get into the boat!” Sylvia ordered.

  Trista glanced around, desperately seeking some means of escape. Just then she heard a stifled cry from Nan.

  “There’s someone out there!” Nan pointed to the brush behind the dock.

  “Where?” Sylvia whirled, gripping Trista firmly with one hand, while she kept the gun trained on her with the other.

  Trista recognized Suni immediately. From the soft gasp behind her, she realized her captors had, too. Suni’s dark hair was uncharacteristically flat and unstyled, her clothing rumpled and complexion gray as she emerged from the underbrush and walked slowly but deliberately toward them.

  What in the world was she doing here? She was supposed to be in jail, where at least she would have been safe. Couldn’t she see Sylvia’s gun? Didn’t she realize that she was walking toward two women who hated her more than anyone else on earth? Yet she didn’t look afraid. She acted as if she knew what she was doing.

  Trista opened her mouth to yell a warning, but Sylvia’s gun jabbed her in the ribs.

  “Not a word—” Sylvia’s whisper was harsh in her ear “—or I’ll shoot both of you, I swear!”

  Nan’s composure was disintegrating with every step Suni took. “It’s Suni Choopra! I thought she was supposed to be in jail! I thought you said they arrested her!”

  “Just stay calm, you twit,” Sylvia ordered. “I’ll handle this.”

  “What’s going on?” Suni asked as she reached the dock. She looked first at Trista, then at the other two women. “Isn’t it a little early in the season to go boating?”

  Didn’t she sense the danger? Trista couldn’t understand what Suni was doing—besides making an open target of herself.

  “Out on bail already, are you?” Sylvia asked. “That didn’t take long.”

  Suni hesitated. “I didn’t kill your husband.”

  “No? Next you’ll be trying to tell me you didn’t sleep with him, either.”

  Suni said nothing, and Sylvia laughed. “I have a great idea, Nan. Let’s say Ms. Choopra shoots her good friend here while they’re out on the boat. Then let’s say Ms. Choopra has a little accident, and falls in while attempting to dispose of the body. That ought to tie everything up nice and tidy, don’t you think?”

  MORGAN SLUNK DOWN on all fours, crawling through the tall grass that bordered the lake. As he drew near to the dock, he could see that Sylvia was trying to get Trista into the boat.

  Damn, what was he going to do now? If he stood up, waving his gun and shouting “Police!,” Sylvia would be as likely to shoot Trista as she would be to surrender. He couldn’t put Trista in that sort of jeopardy. Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Suni walking calmly toward the trio on the dock.

  What in hell! Why hadn’t she stayed put as he’d told her? Morgan watched the reaction of the women on the deck to Suni’s approach and suddenly he understood what she was doing. She was providing a distraction. An opportunity for him to do something. But what?

  Gritting his teeth, he hastily pulled off his shoes and threw down his jacket.

  ALL AT ONCE, Trista understood why Suni had walked so calmly into danger. She was acting as a decoy. On the other side of the dock, a dark shape glided into the water. Water that had to be only just this side of freezing. Trista wrapped her arms around her body, allowing herself a ray of hope. She might make it out of this alive, yet.

  “Okay, the two of you into the boat.” Sylvia waved her gun at Trista and Suni as she spoke. “I’m going to get the motorboat out and tow them to the middle of the lake. You’ll have to hold the gun.” She motioned toward Nan, who eyed the cold hard metal uneasily.

  Trista and Suni moved slowly, stalling for time. But Sylvia wasn’t putting up with any more delays. She tucked the gun in closely, then reached out to give Suni’s arm a tug. Suddenly two arms came up from the water behind her, took a firm grasp of her ankles and pulled.

  A gunshot rang out in the air as Sylvia fell backward into the lake. Trista heard a cry of pain, but she couldn’t take the time to see who’d been hurt. Instead, she reached across the boat for an oar, and before a bewildered Nan Walker could figure out what was going on, she catapulted her into the icy Muskoka waters.

  “My gun, Trista!” She heard Morgan cry out from the lake behind her. He was trying to pin down Sylvia but she was giving him the struggle of her life. “It’s under my jacket on shore!”

  Nan Walker was splashing on the other side of th
e dock, and for the first time, Trista noticed that Suni was clutching her left shoulder and moaning in pain. But she refused to be distracted. She ran down the wooden planks to where Morgan’s jacket and boots lay, hidden in the tall grass beside the dock. She grabbed the gun, and the coat, and raced back toward the struggle. Sylvia’s revolver was no longer in sight. Probably at the bottom of the lake by now.

  “Okay, Morgan,” she called out, brandishing his gun in the air. “I’ve got it.”

  Seeing the weapon safely in Trista’s custody, Morgan let go of the flailing Sylvia and hauled himself up on deck. Trista’s heart went out to him as he shivered with cold, and she passed him his jacket and the gun.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, smoothing a wet hand gently over her cheek.

  “I’m fine,” she assured him. “But I think Suni was shot.”

  Morgan glanced over to where Suni lay huddled on the deck, her hand protectively cupping her bleeding shoulder. “I know. We’ll get her to a hospital as soon as we round up these ladies.” He held his gun steady as Nan and Sylvia hauled themselves out of the water. Both shivered uncontrollably, the skin on their faces blue-white with cold.

  “Take Suni to the car,” Morgan instructed Trista. “Help should be here within minutes. I’ll get these two back to the cottage and wait for backup.”

  In the distance, Trista could already hear the wail of sirens on their way. Relief flooded her heart and she looked at the man who’d risked everything to save her.

  “I love you, you know.”

  Morgan took his eyes off his suspects for a split second in order to reply. “You better.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  FIVE MINUTES LATER two police cars and one ambulance were on the scene. Suffering from delayed shock, Trista could never remember exactly what happened next. She had a vague recollection of Sylvia and Nan being handcuffed and taken away in separate cars. Nan was crying, Sylvia screaming.

  She remembered a quick hug from Morgan and a promise that he would call her when he could. Then she remembered crawling into the ambulance after Suni to go to the hospital in Bracebridge. This time the narrow cots and curtained rooms held no demons for her. A quick checkup verified she was fine. Suni was not so lucky. She had to have the bullet removed from her arm.

  Trista waited, even though the doctor told her she’d be better off going home and straight to bed. She needed to make sure Suni would be okay. She was asleep in her chair when a nurse finally came and told her the patient was resting now and could see her for a few minutes.

  “Suni?” Trista stood at the door to the private room. Suni’s eyes were closed. About to turn and leave, she was stopped by her friend’s words.

  “Hell of a day, wasn’t it?”

  Trista bit back an hysterical giggle. Trust Suni. “I thought you were sleeping.”

  “Almost, but not quite. I wanted to talk to you. They told me you’ve been out there, waiting.”

  Trista sat down in the chair next to the bed. “If you hadn’t walked out on that dock today…”

  Suni squeezed her hand with her good arm. “Don’t think about it, Trista. Even if I hadn’t provided that distraction, Morgan would have thought of something.”

  “But you put your life at risk for me. Those women are crazy. For all you knew, Sylvia might have shot you as soon as she saw you.”

  “But it was my fault you were there. If you hadn’t been so determined to convince Morgan that I was innocent, they would have left you alone. You believed in me, Trista. Don’t think I’ll ever forget it.”

  “And don’t think I’ll ever forget what you did for me.” She was so relieved that Suni had been exonerated from any involvement in the murders. But with all the negative publicity in the past two days, there was no way she could go back to the life she had led. “What are you going to do now?”

  “I thought a lot about that during my day and a half in jail,” Suni said wryly. “A change in career is obviously called for.”

  “But you’re so passionate about what you believe in.”

  “I’ve thought about that, too. The government isn’t the only place where a dedicated person can have an impact, you know. I’ve been considering joining an environmental lobby group. I’ve had offers from them in the past.”

  Suni’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “So what about that detective? You two going to work things out or what?”

  Trista smiled. “I hope so.”

  “He was almost out of his mind with worry on the drive to the cottage. He really cares about you.”

  “I know.”

  “I’d count myself lucky if I were you.”

  “I do.”

  “Okay.” Suni gave her hand a final pat. “Let me know how it all works out. Now I think I’ve got to rest.”

  Trista took a taxi back to Toronto. She tumbled into bed, exhausted, and slept eight solid hours. When she awoke, she felt a desperate need for Morgan, but he was still at work. He’d told her he would call. She just had to be patient.

  She showered and changed, did her hair, had breakfast and read the paper. Still no word. Finally she decided to do what she always did at times of crisis. Go to the office.

  AN HOUR AND A HALF LATER, the sound of her office door opening caused Trista to smile. She’d left it unlocked, knowing he would find her here eventually. She looked up to see him standing in the doorway. Dressed in blue jeans and a formfitting black crew neck, he was obviously off duty. Finally.

  “Sunday office hours?” he asked quietly. A shadow from the open door fell across his face, obscuring his expression.

  “You have an appointment, I presume?”

  “A standing one,” he assured her.

  Trista nodded. She was so happy to see him, but it was more difficult than she’d expected. She didn’t know what to say, or how to make the first move. So she went to the window and stared out at the lake. It was a sunny day, and the water glistened with a hundred sparkling hues of blue and silver. It was a very pretty sight.

  She ought to explain. “I thought I could block everything out and start a new life. A different sort of life. One where I couldn’t—”

  He came up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. They were heavy and strong, and full of warmth. Slowly his fingers worked at the knot of muscles around her neck, and she closed her eyes in appreciation.

  “Where you couldn’t get hurt again. I know. But it didn’t work out that way, did it?” He whispered the words against her ear.

  “No.” She tilted her neck and leaned back slightly as his hands began a circular motion along the side of her shoulders.

  “Because you still cared. It wasn’t possible for you to stop. For your clients, for Suni, even for Brenda—as much as you claimed to want to keep your distance. All those people mattered to you, even when you thought you’d locked your emotions away forever. You’re a giving person, Trista. That’s why I’ve always loved you, and why I always will.”

  Trista twisted into him, pressing her face hard against his chest. Oh, he smelled like heaven to her, and being in his arms seemed like the safest place on earth. She rubbed her skin against him like a cat, and smiled when she felt him rest his cheek against the top of her head.

  “I’m still scared.”

  “I know, Trista. But you’re stronger than you think. You survived. We both survived. Now that we’re together again, it’s going to be so much better. I know I’ve learned a lot.”

  Trista nodded. She believed him. Her heart felt lighter than it had in years. “I used to think having another baby would be an injustice to Andrew. But I don’t think so anymore.” She looked up at him, her eyes searching his for signs of pain. She saw none. A little sadness, maybe. But no pain.

  “Another baby. I’d love that.” He hugged her tighter. “I know we only had such a short time with him. But they were wonderful months, weren’t they?”

  They were. Trista couldn’t say the words yet, but maybe one day she would. It was still hard enough jus
t saying his name, Andrew. But behind the pain there was joy, and Morgan was the only person on earth she could truly share that with. Even if she hadn’t loved him already, that fact alone would have been enough for her.

  But she did love him. His loyalty, his strength, yes, even his protective instincts. He had always been her man. And she was just thankful that she’d realized, before it was too late, how much she wanted him to stay that way.

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-6089-8

  SAME PLACE, SAME TIME

  Copyright © 2000 Carla Daum

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario M3B 3K9, Canada.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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