by Ursula Bauer
Kneeling, she reached for the plans. The top one was from Jen’s renovation, specifically the den. It made sense, since the electrician had been using them recently and planned to work on the den tomorrow. No new information there.
Digging further, she found two earlier versions of the den prior to Jen’s upgrades. She spread the plans out on the island not sure what she was looking for. She’d never read blueprints before and they made little sense as a result. She supposed it was too much to ask to have things spelled out.
Runrunrunrunrunrunrun. He’ll kill you like he killed me. Runrunrunrunrun.
Well. There were things spelled out. The litany repeated as if to make the point then hammer it home. Emma wanted to tune out the ghost, but it was impossible. Between that and the strange drawings, she couldn’t fathom what Keith wanted her to find. The sound of the front door opening startled her. Her pounding heart stopped dead and skipped a few beats. Jen’s drone ceased.
“Emma!”
Her heart picked the beat back up. It was Sam. Not some crazed killer. Or crazed ghost. Emma drew a shaky breath. “In the kitchen.”
Sam skidded into view. “You were right. There’s more to the picture than the evidence is showing.”
His eyes were different. Open. Unsheltered. The barriers were gone and he stood exposed to her.
“You discovered something,” she said simply, allowing him the opening he’d requested without words.
“I’m certain the missing brandy bottle held a sedative. So did Jen’s water bottle. Someone wanted everyone at the lodge drugged out of their minds.”
“Except Jen didn’t drink the water. Mike spilled her bottle and she dumped the water in her glass on him later.” She pictured the scene in her head and in the next instant figured out the rest. “Jen saw something she shouldn’t have, which is why she died.”
“I think she witnessed Robin Taggert’s murder.” The lights throughout the lodge flared wildly. Sam looked around. “Spooks are back?”
“In force. You any good at reading building plans?”
“What are we looking for?”
“I don’t know.”
“Okay,” he said, playing along. “We have several versions of the den. Let’s see what happened with each renovation, what we lost and what we gained.”
As Sam rearranged the plans to suit him, Emma shivered, suddenly cold. Glancing out the window, she noticed the rain had changed. The temperature had dropped enough to turn it to wet snow.
“Keith, Jen, help us. We want to help you, you need to help us.”
Emma closed her eyes, narrowing her psychic focus and mentally picturing the den. At once the world inside turned into a kaleidoscope. Manic laughter echoed in her head. Colors swirled. Her picture of the den morphed. She was outside now. The lake was to her right. Ahead was the guest annex. Intact. Lights on in the dark, an irresistible beacon.
Then she was inside the annex, a vortex of death pulling at her. A woman’s body on the floor, but not Jen’s. Fear ripped through her. Thoughts tumbled through cracks in her mind. Too fast to follow. It numbed her brain and sent her deeper into the vision.
She had to run. She had to go. Call Keith and tell him. Before she was caught.
RUNRUNRUNRUNRUN.
The cry startled her and the vision shifted. Emma saw the inside of the lodge now. Except it wasn’t now, it was five years ago. She was still Emma, looking on, and yet, she was Jen, living through the moment. Feeling what Jen felt. Impressions. Primitive drives. The base instinct for survival all animals possessed.
Cold. Wet. Scared. Run faster. Something was in her hands. Diamonds. Beneath it was something black. Small. Flat. Plastic. Like an ugly button. She sniffed. She couldn’t think straight. Her nose burned from the coke. No one woke when she screamed. She shook them, but they slept. Now what? Where were the car keys? She couldn’t remember. Her bag? The Den. Yes, in the den. Her heart was ready to burst. Hide. Hurry. Fast. Stash. The Den. He’s here. Oh God, he’s here. Nooooooooooooo. Pain burst alive in her skull and the vision dissolved.
Her eyes flew open. Sam was beside her, his face tight with concern.
Emma didn’t let the look derail her. She was here to finish a job, and then no matter what, she was going home.
“I saw it,” she said, “or some of it. I can’t be sure, so much was mixed up confusion. Jen was seriously high, Sam, tripping the light fantastic. She was a mess and because of it, she couldn’t get away in time.”
As Emma related her vision the lights switched on and off in slow cadence. Sam listened quietly, and at the end nodded his head.
“One thing is consistent, in everyone’s reports of the night, and in your vision: Jen kept going back to the den for her drugs. But there was no listing of cocaine found in any of the reports.” Sam glanced down at the plans again. “With everything else going on, I lost track of that fact. I bet she had a hidey hole in the den where she kept her stash. Keith never kept track of the renovations, so she could have put one in without him knowing.”
“She hid the necklace with that black plastic thing. I think it’s important, but I have no idea what it is.”
The lights flared up and then shut off in unison.
“Guess that means we’re getting hot,” said Sam.
There was barely enough light outside to see by, and the shadows ran thicker than ever at Holloway Lodge. Every so often Sam would try a switch as they made their way to the den. The closer they came, the more lights turned back on.
The den seemed darker than a room should be, especially with all the windows. Sam reached for the light switch and Emma grabbed his hand.
“The electrician said switches and lights are dangerous in here,” she said. “The wires are faulty and we shouldn’t touch stuff.”
Sam shrugged off the warning. “It’s a plastic switch. Nothing to worry about as long as I don’t take off the switch plate and try to hot wire the lights.”
As soon as he spoke the words sparks shot out of the plate and it blew off the wall. The overhead pot lights flared on and started to flicker, but didn’t go out. The switch remained in the off position.
“Okay, consider me warned.”
“What are we looking for?”
“Deviations. Things that are bigger than they should be or don’t match up to the plans.” He spread the blueprints on the desk and poured over them. Periodically he looked to the room for reference.
Emma was drawn to the painting, not the plans. Mysterious Jen with the chameleon expression, ever changing as she surveyed her kingdom. Always watching, waiting. Emma felt that the picture had a life all its own. She let her psychic mind reach out on that thread.
Sam’s voice drifted to her like a dream. “As near as I can tell, the walls all had a substantial build out with Jen’s renovation. If there’s a secret hiding spot, it’s most likely by the fireplace. The depth is most enhanced there, and the panel features are the most intricate.”
“She didn’t put it in the plans. She had a carpenter come in after the renovation to retrofit the compartment for her. She didn’t want anyone to know. Especially Keith.” The knowledge came back to her with strange ease, like any of her more mundane psychic revelations, and she reported it word for word as it channeled through her. “It’s not by the fireplace. Follow Jen’s gaze. She hid her stash where she could always keep an eye on it. It’s somewhere on the wall with the windows.”
Sam made short work of following Emma’s orders, but locating the exact spot and trigger took a while. In the end, they found the panel in the corner of the room. The small door, disguised as a wainscoting element, opened with the right amount of pressure. It revealed not just the remnants of Jen’s drug supply, but the Vaughn diamond necklace, and a memory card that Sam held up to her.
“Black plastic,” he said, holding up the black memory card. “Christmas came early. Someone was making home movies. I bet I’m getting the pictures of the killer I wanted.”
The lights flared, an
d cut off. The room fell dark. The floor creaked from the weight of the living, not the dead. And then a familiar voice spoke out.
“I knew you’d find it, Emma,” Jen’s killer said plainly. “The minute you directed them to search the lake, I knew your ability was real. It was only a matter of time before you found the one thing I’ve searched for over the last five years. Where Jen hid the proof.”
Chapter Sixteen
Emma’s blood ran cold. She spun round to find Wesley Vaughn standing in the doorway shadows. She couldn’t see his expression clearly, but the gun in his hand, aimed at her and Sam, caught her attention. “You killed Jen? Why?”
“For my wife. Absurd, isn’t it?”
She expected a crazy laugh, some sign of obvious insanity. Instead, Wesley Vaughn was cold and composed, and might as well have been discussing the change of rain to snow as an admission of murder.
Sam stepped out in front of Emma before she could respond. “What the hell did you do, Wes?”
“I did what I had to do. It was my weekend for the lodge. They never should have come. I tried my best to keep them all out of it, but Audrey and Jen went off the script.”
“What did Audrey do?” Sam took another step, blocking Emma from sight. She tried to get around him, but he kept her in place. Then she realized his phone was in the usual carrying spot: his back pocket. Between his size, her position, and the shadows, she was all but invisible to Wesley. Taking advantage of the moment, she slipped his Blackberry out, muted the call out sound, and used the phone log to dial Jake Meyer.
The call connected and Emma spoke loud and clear. “You don’t want to kill us, Wesley. Why did you murder Jen? None of this makes sense.”
“For once, it wasn’t about precious Jen.” Wes snorted in disgust. “I planned to pay Audrey back for sleeping around, to humiliate her as she’d done to me. Robin and I were having an affair and I’d set it up so Audrey would catch us in the act.”
“So now it’s Audrey’s fault,” Sam said. “That’s a crock.”
“I never realized Audrey’s depth of passion or insanity.” Wesley’s voice held a strange note of truth. “I’d been dropping hints for several months about my infidelity to prime the pump. She stole my gun with the intent to kill her rival. And that’s exactly what she did.”
A chill washed over her. Not from his words, but from the pronounced change in energy. The air grew tight. Emma peeked around Sam. Behind Wesley, shadows gathered. A thread of anger wrapped around them, an invisible web drawing tighter and tighter.
“Audrey shot Robin Taggert.” Emma spoke clear and slow, hoping Jake Meyer heard ever word.
Wesley proceeded on, unaware of her deception. “I was going to call Audrey at the lodge and lure her to the guest annex with the promise of adventurous sex. We were working on ‘spontaneity’ among other things and I’d led her to believe we were to role play one of her fantasies. I planned for her to find me with Robin.” He swore viciously then, cursing his wife.
“Robin and I met briefly in the parking lot. That’s when Audrey saw us. She took the gun from her purse and headed to the annex. Jen must have followed Audrey, only instead of charging in the front door like my wife, she snuck through the rear. She saw Audrey shoot Robin, and worse, knew it was on film.”
“I can understand the other woman angle.” Emma found herself drawn into the macabre story. As far as cons went, it had merit—if you removed the two murders. Wesley had found a younger, prettier woman with more money and a better pedigree. To throw her in his wife’s face on the weekend they were trying to repair their marriage would destroy a woman like Audrey. Trust a world-renowned psychiatrist to create something so devious and destructive. There was only one major, glaring, idiotic flaw that seemed very unlike the cold, calculating Dr. Vaughn.
“Why film it?”
“That was not part of my plan. Robin was one of my patients,” he said. “A nymphomaniac with a narcissist’s need for high risk scenarios and exposure. Her one demand for our performance was I had to film it for her. I knew it was stupid, but if I wanted this to work, I had to acquiesce to her demands. I planned to destroy the memory card later, when she’d tired of the game.”
Sam was right, the man was organized and savvy. Fate, however, had thrown a monkey wrench into his perfect plan. Dad always warned her about those kinds of things. Hope for the best, prepare for the worst. Doctor Perfect had the perfect Plan A, but failed one of the big tests of running a good con: he had no back up Plans B, C, and D. “So you killed Jen to keep her from talking? She was a mistake?”
Wesley’s body tensed at the accusation of his failure, and his voice took on a faraway tone as he relived that fateful night five years ago. “Audrey freaked when she realized Robin was dead. She panicked, and ran. I reacted fast. The wife I thought despised me, loved me enough to kill. I had to protect her so I strangled Jen, the only witness. Then I went after Audrey. In my concern for my wife, I didn’t squeeze hard enough, or long enough, though. Jen wasn’t dead. She came round, and ever the opportunist, used the time to grab the evidence of the murder. Not only is Robin’s death on film, Jen’s strangulation is there as well.”
Sam jumped back in. “By the time you got hold of her again, she’d hidden the necklace and the memory card.” He was in full on protector mode now. She sensed the awakening, felt the coiled tension in his body. She only hoped the gloom separating them kept the observant doctor from noticing. “The necklace was insured and she knew no matter what happened to her, people would keep looking for the diamonds. When they found that, they’d find the proof of what you’d done.”
“Even as strung out as she was, she was smart. I had no idea where she’d stashed it, inside or outside of the main lodge,” Wesley allowed. “When Keith was alive, it was easy to conduct searches. Once you moved in, and Emma arrived, things became more complicated. It then became a matter of watching and waiting, and tying up loose ends.”
Emma shivered again, and Sam kept talking, stringing out the play and buying them time. “Why drug everyone that night, Wes? Wouldn’t it have been easier to wait another day and play out your game with Robin and Audrey the next night when everyone was gone?”
“It was my night. Mine. I’d set the plan in motion, I wasn’t about to let a bunch of idiots interfere. Besides, Robin was supposed to leave for an extended vacation in Aruba the following morning. Given her sexual appetite, she would move on to another lover by then, and I’d have to lay my groundwork with a new woman all over. It would have worked fine if Mike hadn't spilled Jen's water bottle. I'd spiked it heavily since she was using cocaine that night. I'd also dosed her glass to be safe. After the police arrived, when no one was watching, I removed all containers with trace amounts of the drug.”
So much for doctors not being killers. Emma hoped Jake was on his way with the cavalry. She joined the conversation playing Sam’s game for time, striking Wesley at his weakest point by stroking his ego. “That’s very intricate. I can’t imagine the average person pulling something like that off, but you did. Brad Heath, and Lou Preston helped, didn’t they?”
“Brad,” he said, with obvious distaste. “I’d asked him to pick up Robin in the city. Audrey was known for her drugs and whoring ways. It ruined her job, but her family name made sure she stayed accepted in all the right circles. I wouldn’t manage such a similar fall from grace. I couldn’t be linked to Robin, a patient, so Brad was a beard. Besides, she liked the cloak and dagger stuff. It fed her grandiose delusions.”
While Emma felt bad for the poor murdered woman, she had to admit that Robin had as questionable a reputation as everyone else involved. That night was the perfect storm. A lodge full of people with impulse control issues, no boundaries, fewer morals, and the one person who had a modicum of sense leaving them all unattended. It was a wonder only two of them ended up dead.
Wesley warmed to his show and continued talking . “Brad came up with the idea to use fire to conceal Jen’s death. Lou was behind the wa
it to dump Robin’s body after the grounds were searched. They stored her at his house, then brought her back to the lodge. They both wanted money and were only too happy to help me take care of my problem for the right price. But Lou was an opportunist and greedy. He got rid of Heath afterwards along with Robin and took care of that meth freak, Mason. In the end it was one simple pay off for me.”
“Why kill Lou so many years later?” She breathed a silent prayer someone was hearing all this.
“Lou was a loose end. I should have killed him five years ago, but couldn’t at the time. Too many dead and missing, and the police get curious.”
“Audrey overdosed. She’s in a coma,” Emma countered. “Did you orchestrate that too?”
“No. Audrey has borderline personality disorder. It’s complex and not treatable by any medication. The Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome she acquired after the murders made it worse. I wouldn’t expect anyone to understand the depth of her troubles, or my trials as her husband. She finally went off the edge. If she comes out of it, no one will believe her over the trail of evidence I’d planted. She and Mike will take the fall. I’ll be free and clear.”
“How will you prove he had a hand in our deaths if he’s with the police right now?”
“It’s up to them to prove Mike’s guilt, not me. I’m going to leave part of the necklace behind. Enough to make it appear there was an outside accomplice. No one knows I’m here. Unlike the .38, this gun is unregistered. You and Sam will become another tragic cold case and the nightmare will be over for me at last.”
Sam swore. “Nice to see you’ve got everything planned out now. Wasn’t so easy back then. Five years ago it would have worked better if Jen and her party never showed up that night. Where’d you get the Rohypnol?”
“I’m a doctor, I have my sources. I planned to drug Audrey if she got out of hand after she caught me with Robin. That case I worked on with the Albany police gave me the idea. A date rape drug had a sort of poetic justice to it, since I’d felt completely violated by her infidelity.”