Dead Hunt dffi-5

by Beverly Connor

  All three looked at Joey.

  ‘‘I didn’t put that in the scrapbook, honest,’’ he said.

  ‘‘In the archaeology scrapbook you wrote next to a picture that the mail was just called over,’’ said Diane.

  ‘‘So?’’ he said.

  ‘‘That phrase, to call the mail over, is unique to the Outer Banks and the surrounding area,’’ she said.

  ‘‘But how did you know it was this island?’’ said Joey.

  ‘‘We didn’t,’’ Diane lied. ‘‘You brought us here. We just stopped at a convenience store to load up before we went to the motel to wait for the marshals, to begin a canvas of the area.’’

  Iris threw her napkin down on the table. ‘‘All my planning . . .’’ she said.

  ‘‘Iris,’’ said Rose, ‘‘Joey did the best he could.’’

  ‘‘Well, we have a problem, don’t we? And we need to fix it,’’ said Iris.

  ‘‘We can hold them hostage,’’ said Joey.

  ‘‘I don’t want to hear from you,’’ said Iris. ‘‘If it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t be in this mess. The FBI won’t deal with hostage takers. We have to think of something else. We’ll put them in one of the upstairs rooms.’’

  Chapter 51

  It was Iris who took them up to the rooms. She had Kingsley’s gun with her and from the way she held it, Diane believed she knew how to use it.

  Diane supposed Iris wasn’t trusting anyone but herself to do anything right. She and Kingsley had definitely ruffled her feathers, and they had done a fairly decent job of starting a schism between Iris and the other two. Diane tried to think of some way to widen it as she was climbing the stairs. Perhaps that was why Iris was taking them up instead of allowing the others to do it. Iris was afraid that Diane and Kingsley might make some progress.

  The upper floor was as elegant as the rest of the house. Diane told her so. The wide hallway had several seating areas and a library at the end in an alcove.

  ‘‘Lily, Rose, and I decorated the house and grounds. Mother had such poor taste. You should have seen it. Of course, she’s the woman who slept with my father after he sold me. That’s how we got little Joey.’’ Iris sounded bitter. ‘‘He also gave her a fur coat to make up for her loss.’’

  ‘‘I’m sorry that happened to you,’’ said Diane.

  ‘‘So am I,’’ said Kingsley. ‘‘I can’t think of anything more terrible.’’

  They stood there in the big elegant hallway near a pair of large double doors, Diane and Kingsley almost huddled together and Iris holding the gun on them.

  ‘‘One of my father’s clients was here looking for his quota of nubile young things and he caught sight of Rose. We had just turned fifteen. He offered my father a million dollars for her. Father agreed; after all, he had two more. Rose was terrified. Mother cried but did nothing. I offered to go in her place. Father didn’t care; he couldn’t tell us apart anyway.

  ‘‘Now you know my story. Profiler Kingsley, you are going in this room. Open the door.’’

  ‘‘Let us stay together,’’ said Diane. ‘‘You can see we’re a pretty pathetic pair, and he needs care.’’

  ‘‘Don’t try to poor-mouth yourselves. I know what you are capable of,’’ she said. ‘‘Open the door.’’

  Kingsley opened the door. The room had a huge four-poster bed, plush maroon carpets with a maroon and gold brocade bed set and matching curtains. It was a little too ornate for Diane’s taste, but it was better than the building out back.

  ‘‘Nice prison,’’ said Kingsley. He walked in and Iris locked the door behind him with the key she held in her hand.

  ‘‘You will be down here,’’ she said to Diane.

  Diane started down the hallway, trying to formulate a plan. Kingsley was out of the way and it was just the two of them. Iris was strong, but so was she.

  ‘‘Don’t try anything,’’ said Iris. ‘‘I won’t mind shooting you. I can read your mind even from behind.’’

  ‘‘I wouldn’t dream of trying anything,’’ said Diane. ‘‘You have a logical mind about you. I was hoping you would see that killing law enforcement officers puts you in a whole different ball game from the men you killed.’’

  ‘‘I’m aware of that. Hardly seems fair to the rest of the population, does it?’’ she said.

  ‘‘Iris, look,’’ said Diane. ‘‘Kingsley tells me that most people who are tagged as serial killers escalate in violence against their victims. You didn’t. He says you are different. You are not one of these people...’’

  ‘‘Are you trying to save me? How do you know I’m not escalating?’’

  ‘‘Because neither Bacon, Redding, Carthwright, or O’Riley was killed as violently as that GreeneHeinrich person,’’ said Diane. ‘‘Their deaths were terrible enough, and maybe Bacon’s was as violent, but the others weren’t.’’

  Diane watched Iris carefully as she spoke. Iris was clearly shocked.

  ‘‘You know about all of those?’’ she whispered.

  ‘‘There may be more, but those are all we’ve found so far,’’ said Diane.

  ‘‘How?’’ she said hoarsely. ‘‘How could you know about Simon Greene? He’s the man my father sold me to. No one knows about him.’’

  ‘‘You aren’t the only one Greene abused,’’ said Diane. ‘‘He’s notorious.’’

  Iris was quiet. Diane was hoping she would let her guard down so that Diane could... do something... what? Outrun a bullet? The Beretta would make a much worse wound than Joey’s little gun. Iris’ gun hand never wavered.

  ‘‘Open the door,’’ she said. It sounded more like a request than an order. Diane complied. This room was completely different from the last one. It was done in black and shades of browns and tans. No ruffles, brocades, or tassels, just sleek, tailored designs. Diane didn’t like it either.

  ‘‘We’ve been very frank with each other,’’ said Diane. ‘‘Will you answer two questions for me?’’

  ‘‘Perhaps,’’ she said. ‘‘If it won’t take long. I have an escape to execute.’’

  ‘‘Did you have those stolen artifacts sent to the museum to get even with Vanessa Van Ross?’’ asked Diane.

  ‘‘I didn’t have anything to do with your museum problem. I was getting even with Vanessa Van Ross by targeting you. You mean more to her than the museum, according to my analysis, though I failed to uncover why.’’

  ‘‘So all that blood and my being accused of killing you was to get even with her?’’ said Diane.

  ‘‘No, that was to fake my death and poke you in the eye while doing it. I called Eric Tully on the phone pretending to be you and told him to send me fifteen thousand dollars or I would turn him in.’’

  Diane frowned. ‘‘That explains a lot. He only sent four thousand and tried to kill me twice.’’

  ‘‘I suppose he was low on cash,’’ said Iris.

  ‘‘What about Grace Noel and Tully’s daughter? Were you just trying to con me?’’ said Diane.

  ‘‘No. I figured that whether Tully killed you or not, he would get arrested and Grace would see him for what he was. The kid would go to her to raise—or to another relative if they could find one. Grace isn’t the brightest, but she would be good to the little girl,’’ said Iris. ‘‘Now, if I’ve told you everything you want to know. Get in the damn room.’’

  Diane walked in and Iris started to close the door. She hesitated and turned back to Diane.

  ‘‘Rich men are all the same. You may not believe that, but I know it. They are no different from my father. Power doesn’t corrupt so much as money does. Vanessa thinks her friend Archer was so good. We were walking on the beach in Malibu when these young girls passed by in their string bikinis. They weren’t much more than fifteen or sixteen. He said, ‘My, aren’t those nubile young things?’ That was my father’s favorite word, nubile. Men are all alike, and rich men are the worst because they can buy anything they want. You tell that to your friend Vanessa.’’<
br />
  She slammed the door. Diane heard the key turn in the lock. She stood a moment and listened to Iris’ footfalls go down the hall. The first thing she did was start searching the room. The drawers were filled with linens, sheets, holiday tablecloths, and napkins— nothing hard that she could use as a weapon. Maybe she could tie the sheets together and climb down to the ground. She went to the window and threw open the curtain. The window was nailed shut and boarded up on the outside.

  Diane looked at the curtain rod. Now, there was a possibility. She climbed up on top of the vanity and took the heavy metal rod off the brackets, slid the rod apart, and slid the curtains off. Now she had two weapons. It was sort of like a lance. The finials made fairly good points. Probably wouldn’t puncture the skin, but she could certainly knock the wind out of someone with it—hit them right in the solar plexus and they wouldn’t get up for a while.

  She laid the rods on the bed, went to the closet, and threw the doors open. It was a large walk-in closet, large enough for a small bedroom or a large bathroom. She turned on the light at the switch just inside the doorway. Garment bags hung on the rods on both sides. More rods. She examined them, but they were permanently affixed to the walls.

  Clear plastic boxes were stacked up under the clothes. Diane leaned down to see what was in the boxes. Guns and ammunition, she hoped. There wasn’t quite enough light, so she grabbed one of the lids and started to open it when a hand shot out and grabbed her arm, digging deep into the skin through the fabric with its nails. Diane yelped and jumped back. The hand held on. It looked mummified, but it was alive and grasping. Diane grabbed the arm with her other hand and pried the grip loose just as a shriveled face appeared from between the bags.

  ‘‘Help me.’’

  It was a hoarse whisper.

  ‘‘Please, help me.’’

  It was a very old man, his eyes were red rimmed, and he had a trickle of saliva running down his chin.

  ‘‘Please...’’

  He was suddenly propelled backward and disappeared into the wall.

  Chapter 52

  Diane stood dumbfounded, staring at the swinging garment bags. She gathered her wits about her and knelt down, pulled out the boxes, and pressed on the wall. There was a give in the bead board. She heard a loud, high-pitched, but muffled voice behind the wall.

  ‘‘Please, help me. Help me, please,’’ said a mocking voice. ‘‘Do you think anyone came to help Iris when she called out for help, Alain, dear?’’

  Diane heard slapping sounds and more yelling.

  ‘‘Mr. Delaflote... Mrs. Delaflote?’’ Diane called out. ‘‘Is that you?’’

  ‘‘Who is that? Who knows our name? Get away from here. You’ll make them mad. Don’t make my flowers mad. Tell them I didn’t let him get away.’’

  Diane heard a rattling coming from her bedroom door. She stepped out of the closet and grabbed one of the curtain rods. She slipped the other one under the bed. She turned out the lights in the room and stood off to the side, ready to strike.

  The door opened an inch.

  ‘‘Diane?’’

  ‘‘Kingsley?’’ she said.

  Diane turned on the light. Kingsley slipped in and Diane closed the door behind him.

  ‘‘How did you get in here? For that matter, how did you get out of your room?’’ she asked.

  ‘‘I picked the lock. These old locks are easy for a clever fellow like me. Granted, it’s not as clever as putting a cell phone under a dresser.’’ He grinned at her. He looked better than he had at dinner.

  ‘‘How are you feeling?’’ she asked.

  ‘‘I’ve had better days, but I’m all right,’’ he assured her.

  ‘‘I think I’ve found Ma and Pa Delaflote,’’ she said.

  ‘‘Really? Are they alive?’’ he said.

  ‘‘Alive, but payback is definitely a bitch. He hasn’t aged gracefully.’’ she said. Diane told him about the encounter. ‘‘They are right behind that wall.’’ She pointed into the closet.

  ‘‘Damn. Did the girls lock them both up, or . . . or what?’’ he said.

  ‘‘I think so,’’ said Diane. ‘‘I’m not really sure. It looked like only Mr. Delaflote wanted to escape.’’

  ‘‘I like your weapon, by the way,’’ he said.

  Diane fished out the other side of the curtain rod and gave it to him.

  ‘‘I had curtain rods. I should have thought of this,’’ he said.

  ‘‘You picked the locks,’’ said Diane. ‘‘We have weapons and I have a lot of false bravado. So now what’s the plan?’’

  ‘‘See if we can find a way out. My windows are nailed shut, are yours?’’

  ‘‘Yes,’’ she told him.

  ‘‘Let’s see if we can find a back stairway,’’ he said.

  They peeked into the hallway. Empty. They stepped into the corridor, closed the door behind them, and walked gently to a door across the hall and tried to open it. It was locked. They tried another one. Locked as well. They made their way to the stairway they had originally come up with Iris. The two of them stopped and listened. Diane wondered if they could hear her heart pounding. She swallowed hard and took a deep breath.

  They heard voices, but none near. They were muffled and sounded heated. The triplets were having an argument. Good, thought Diane.

  ‘‘Should we try to get out the front door? Back door?’’ whispered Diane.

  ‘‘Do you remember if the steps squeaked as we came up?’’ he asked softly.

  Diane thought for a moment. ‘‘Yes, but maybe if we stick close to the wall they won’t squeak as much. The house must make noises all the time. I don’t understand why they didn’t hear Ma and Pa just now. Maybe they won’t hear us.’’

  Diane led the way. Kingsley followed close behind. They hugged the wall with each step. So far, so good. When Diane entered the house she had been relieved to find it bright and well lit. Now she wished it were dark. Each time the steps creaked, a tremor of fear went though her. The lightheartedness she felt when she first saw Kingsley was giving way to dread.

  As they descended the staircase the voices grew louder and clearer.

  ‘‘None of this is his fault, Iris. He made the best decisions he could. It isn’t his fault he ran across that Diane person. She figured this out. I think she would have anyway, even if Joey had made no mistakes. She knew too much about you... about us.’’

  ‘‘That doesn’t matter now,’’ said an identical voice. ‘‘We need to get out of here and quickly. Whatever we do with them, the marshals are going to come anyway.’’

  ‘‘This has gone so wrong.’’

  ‘‘You did this, Iris. This is your mess.’’

  ‘‘You don’t mind spending the money.’’

  Diane couldn’t distinguish the voices; they all sounded like Clymene.

  The triplets were in the dinning room and the door was closed. Diane motioned to the back of the house. Kingsley nodded. They tiptoed past the door and down a hallway to the back, where Diane hoped to find the kitchen and a knife along the way out.

  Through a set of double doors they walked into the kitchen. It was a modern kitchen with a large island in the middle. There was a breakfast nook in the corner. Joey was sitting with his back to them, eating a bowl of ice cream.

  He heard the noise, turned around toward them, and looked startled at the sight, but he was slow to react. Diane ran at him, using her curtain rod as a lance. She didn’t think it would do much more than stun him, but she put her momentum behind it. She aimed for his chest. He dodged, and the point of her improvised spear punched into his throat and he fell to the floor gagging on ice cream. She and Kingsley rushed past him for the door.

  ‘‘Can you run?’’ asked Diane as they went down the outside steps.

  ‘‘What does it look like?’’ he said. ‘‘Do you know where we’re going?’’

  ‘‘Head for the woods,’’ she said.

  They ran across the field that Diane h
ad seen when they drove up. It was bordered by a tall wire fence she might be able to climb over, but it was too tall for Kingsley in his condition. She spotted a gap under the fence where it crossed a shallow ditch. They ran for it. It was a low opening, big enough for animals to get through, but was it big enough for them?

  They made it to the fence. Diane kicked at briars that grew into the wire. She lay down on her back and wiggled into the opening, pushing at the fence, trying to make the hole larger. After what seemed like too long, she pulled herself out the other side of the fence. She turned to help Kingsley. That’s when she saw the triplets running across the pasture after them. Joey wasn’t with them. Two were carrying guns.