Chapter twenty-seven
There was no sense of time until Georgie felt a presence beside her, drawing her toward comforting warmth, a circle of strength and protection.
“He always leaves his jacket here,” she said, each word taking a drop of blood from her heart. “Just tosses it down. It would just... clunk it was so heavy.”
The vision of its weight taking an injured, perhaps unconscious, Nick straight to the bottom of the river wounded her through the scars of all her losses, leaving a cavern of loneliness to echo her cries. The arms tightened their circle, rocking her gently.
“I need to see where it happened,” she heard herself say, yet the voice was an alien sound, small and childlike, not her own.
“George.”
“Please. I need to... to...”
“Okay,” Mason said, kissing the top of her head and a quick reassuring hug. “I’ll call Roberts and talk to Blake outside. Come on.”
His arms slipped beneath hers and against her tired limp body’s complaint Georgie let herself be lifted from the floor. They slowly made their way through the kitchen, strength returning to her legs, arms, and to that which makes us all go on no matter what. He took her coat from the peg and she began to slip it on as he went out the door.
“Blake,” he called out, as her phone rang.
There was an odd zztt zztt and a muffled grunt out in the garage just as the second ring pealed. Georgie tossed her coat over the chair and picked up the phone.
“Hello?”
“Georgie...” Heavy static broke up the voice. “G...Girl...” Again, the static cut up the already raspy voice.
Georgie gasped, and fought the cruelty of deluding herself, yet... “Nick?” she whispered, and pleaded with God to let it be him, to let her hear Nick laugh at the huge mistake.
“The print...”
“What?”
“The finger... p... print...”
The phone was wrenched from her hand. With a half scream, half gasp, Georgie jerked back, stood there gaping, hand empty.
It was Tonie.
“What are you doing?” Georgie asked, and half-reached for the phone, but something made her take a step back instead.
Tonie was dressed in uniform, face bland, eyes pale. Without speaking, Tonie held the phone to her ear a moment then very gingerly placed it back on its cradle.
The not-quite-right of this scene hit Georgie. It wasn’t a policemen’s uniform, but the dark gray Instant Reply Security outfit. A cold blast of air struck her and Georgie looked to the still open kitchen door. Where was Mason? Then she remembered the zztt, zztt, the grunt, and noticed the weapon at Tonie’s waist. Had it been the blasts of a silencer on a throw-away gun? Was there such a thing?
“Mason!” Georgie screamed, and Tonie reached out to stop her, fingers spread in a plea for her to calm down. The hands were unnaturally pale and instantly Georgie realized why. Tonie was wearing plastic gloves.
“It’s you?” Georgie asked, stunned by the madness of it. “You’re the one doing all this?”
“It was never supposed to go this far,” she said, each word coming out slow as though it pained her to say them.
“What?”
“No one was supposed to get hurt.”
“What are you talking about?” Georgie demanded.
“Shut up!” Tonie ran gloved her hands over her hair. “I have to think,” she mumbled, must have felt the tug of the plastic grip because she stared at her hands, her face ashen, puzzled.
“Why? What did I ever do to you?” Georgie wanted to know. “What...”
“Shut up! Just... just shut the fuck up!” The gloved hands became fists, the knuckles straining against the plastic.
Like drapes being jerked opened, Georgie remembered the lure Tonie had tried, and she charged at Tonie. “You were going to hurt Paula! You b...”
The sting to the side of her face, the exploding lights behind her eyes, and the edge of the kitchen table jamming into her side, happened before Georgie realized Tonie had struck her in a quick back swing. The food and platter lay strewn around her as Georgie looked up from the floor, trying to catch her breath and deal with the erupting pain.
Tonie held out her hands for Georgie to calm down and hear out her plea. “I would never have hurt her, I swear.”
Georgie dragged in air as she watched Tonie glance about. The woman seemed to be looking at nothing, yet searching... empty eyes finding nothing. Each breath hurt, but Georgie had to get her wind back quick while Tonie was distracted.
“It was never suppose to turn out like this,” Tonie argued. “It was just supposed to be a simple theft... to scare you. That’s all.”
“Scare me? Why? For what?” Georgie asked, keeping her eyes on Tonie yet trying to concentrate on her peripheral image of the open door. There was no movement, no sound. Mason, where are you? Please, God, let him be alive.
She began to struggle her way up from the floor to chair, to table, each level painful. A throbbing rib made her catch her breath.
“It’s all about you, Georgie.” Tonie half laughed, and looked at her as if she should somehow know this joke’s punch line. “All about you.”
Clenching her teeth to bear the pain, Georgie leaned on the open frame to the hallway. “What did I do to you?”
“Didn’t you hear me?” There was a shrill in Tonie’s voice, and she reined herself in with a swallow. “He wanted to be your hero with his little rose,” she added with over-done patience, “your protector, gallant knight coming in to the rescue; be there to save you.”
My protector? No! The denial went off in Georgie’s head. It couldn’t be Mason. No. The taste of bile nearly made her retch. Not Mason.
“He would find Raggs for you,” Tonie was saying, offering her upturned hands in a presentation motion. “And that would do it. You’d fall into his arms.”
Georgie shook her head, but no denial would come to her lips.
Tonie’s ugly plastic-pale hands curled into fists again as she pulled them toward herself, mouth tightening, working to hold back an eruption. “Then you had to go and bring in the police, and the little weasel backed down. God, he shook like a frightened rabbit. How pathetic.” Her lips pressed then curled back in disdain. “He was supposed to be the one to pull you clear of the car.” She snorted a laugh. “But he wasn’t quick enough, and once again, yet another hero in your life did it instead. You didn’t even notice the little weasel, and he backed away into the shadows. Such a...”
“Weasel?” Georgie murmured, then... oh my God, she thought. It had to be. “Jeffrey? Jeffrey had you scare me? But why?”
Tonie bent at the waist, arms out at her sides then brought them forward to indicate Georgie. “All for the love of Georgina Gainsworth. He even had me come in for a haircut so I’d know where Raggs was. But the moment you brought in the cops, he turned tail; wanted out, and insisted I return Raggs immediately.”
“You did that to Raggs!” Georgie lunged for the glass napkin holder on the table and threw it at Tonie. When Tonie ducked, it smashed into the wall, the shattered fragments clanging to the countertop and floor. Georgie tried dashing passed her, but Tonie easily caught her and swung her back. The refrigerator handle jabbed into Georgie’s back as she was slammed into it.
“He was so scared, he wanted me to throw her in the dumpster,” Tonie explained, “I wouldn’t do it. Unlike him, I knew what she meant to you. I kept her clean, protected. I did that for you. You know that, don’t you? Then he wanted to tell everybody he suspected it was me. Who would believe me, right? My word against Mr. Upright. I couldn’t let him do that. Just the fact I helped him would mean the end of my badge. I was not about to lose my badge. I worked too fucking hard for it, putting up with their bureaucratic bullshit, their tender male egos.”
All Georgie could do was stare, watching a surreal play, Tonie’s soliloquy with an invisible person.
Tonie shook her head with a disbelieving smile. “I had to straighten out the
mess, make it look as though some crazy ass did it all, and it would have worked too, but once again, he panicked. So I asked him to meet me so I could calm him down, make him see it could still work.”
“Upper State Park,” Georgie murmured.
Tonie nodded. “The little worm let me in the car and tells me how he’s going to save himself.” She laughed. “He showed me his I’m sorry note he wrote to you, certain you would forgive him. And you would have, wouldn’t you?”
Georgie bit her lip... she probably would have.
“See?” Tonie smirked, tossing up her hands. “I can see it in your eyes. You would have. When I told him he was crazy, he pulled a gun on me. Can you believe that? He didn’t even have the smarts to know he had the safety on. Well, that note gave me the best idea. It worked well as a bye, bye suicide. All over a fucking hoax to get you in his bed!”
“Wouldn’t that be self-defense? I mean...” She had to keep Tonie talking. First rule... keep them talking until you find something you can use as a weapon. The knives in the wooden holder, she thought, and her stomach tightened.
Tonie’s pale eyes narrowed. “I’m not stupid, okay? I put a fucking bullet in his head at point blank range! That’s not self-defense. So don’t play me. You’re not good at it.”
“But...”
Tonie wasn’t hearing her. She shrugged matter-of-factly and continued with her monologue. “The rest was easy. The added touch was the dog. I felt bad about that.”
Anger replaced fear. In one lunge and swing, Georgie reached for a knife from her set and swung wide. Tonie easily bolted clear of the swipe, and vise-like fingers wrapped around Georgie’s arm. The room spun a second before Georgie found herself in the midst of a boa-strength hold, crushed into Tonie’s chest, while her toes barely scraped the floor. Tonie’s other hand was at Georgie’s wrist, twisting and jerking, trying to wrestle the knife free.
“Let it go!” Tonie hissed in her ear.
Just as Georgie felt her numbing fingers loosening their grip, she leaned her head down and thrust it back into Tonie’s face. Tonie yelped, and Georgie gained her freedom. She ran to her bedroom and dropped to the floor at the head of her bed.
Tonie laughed as she too entered the room. “Christ. Trying to hide under the bed. I expected better,” she said, reaching down for her with a sharp snort.
From under the bed, Georgie grabbed hold of the Slugger Bat and swung it. It was a weak swing, but it hit Tonie at the anklebone. A cry of anguish erupted from Tonie as she jerked back, and Georgie rolled away. When Tonie came after her, Georgie swung the bat again, aiming for the knees. Tonie fell like an axed tree, but the bat slipped out of Georgie’s grip. She didn’t dare take the time to get it. It landed too close to Tonie, and Georgie ran down the hallway looking for another place to make a stand. As she ran through the kitchen, she yanked at the table to tumble it behind her, but it was too heavy, and she ran to the door leading to the garage.
“Mason!” she screamed.
A sharp pain enveloped her head as a chuck of her hair was caught, the plastic gloves squishing in the grip as she was yanked back into the room while an arm snaked about her waist again.
“Kiss him goodbye, Georgie, kiss him goodbye,” Tonie taunted. “He got in the way. He should have stood by me, been my backup. I could have gone to him, but no. He was too caught up in you and your little problem to even help me.”
“You were the problem!” Georgie forced out, but the woman police officer Georgie knew was gone, leaving behind this mad Amazon, hearing no reason, and hissing in her ear.
“Just like your friend, Nicky-boy,” Tonie sneered, as Georgie felt herself dragged, hoisted and jerked, her ribs screaming in pain. “I knew he was trouble the night he came to talk to Mason about that stupid rose. Can’t say it was easy keeping an eye on all of you. They should never have sent me outside. I put a track on his bike.” She laughed, almost a giggle. “I found him coming out of the Federal Building downtown earlier. He must have found the bug and taken it there. I had to stop him. The bridge was perfect. Sad. I liked him.”
“Yeah, he does that to people,” Georgie managed to say as her feet hit enough floor to get the leverage needed to jump and slam her feet against the wall and push. Trying to hold her balance, Tonie slipped on the scattered food at their feet and they went tumbling across the room to the floor. Tonie become a cushion for Georgie as they went down. Free, Georgie tried to get up, but her rubbery legs gave her no footing, and she dropped, grasping and getting nothing... a nightmare come true.
She rolled over to see Tonie already on her feet, sliding a knife from its holder, blood streaming from her lip and nose, a tear in the plastic glove. Georgie back-crabbed a bit toward the garage door as Tonie took a deep breath, looking tired as she shook her head again. “I have to make this look good, Georgie... the work of a maniac.”
“They’ll know it’s you,” Georgie panted. “Look at yourself.”
Tonie ran a hand across her mouth and nose, and stared at the blood. The smile was non-human. “I’m off duty. I can just play sick until all the show and tell is gone.” Her face saddened hideously as she added, “And be oh, so shocked and sad when they tell me the terrible, terrible news.”
She doesn’t know they found the print, Georgie thought, then saw the makeshift sorrow give way to chiseled hard lines.
“Oh, by the way,” Tonie said. “I called the lab.” Her smeared mouth curved crookedly, a caricature of anything human. “On behalf of Roberts, you understand, him being the lead detective and all. Bentley was very obliging. Always ready to help one another, the men are. He mentioned the finger print. Not enough there to do a search.” Her head tilted as she pouted. “Sad.”
Georgie was cold, frozen, in shock or was it the cold night air coming through the open kitchen door... she didn’t know. All she could do was stare as Tonie raised the knife and lunged into her attack.
Georgie’s eardrums went numb from two explosions. Each boom thrust Tonie back, slamming her against the refrigerator door. Two of Tonie’s shirt buttons became dark red flower blossoms. Confusion spread across Tonie’s face as she looked down at herself, then lifted her gaze, focusing, but not at Georgie. She was looking at the open kitchen door.
“Mason?” Tonie murmured, and for just a second, Georgie was certain she saw, Officer Tonie Clark in the now calm, but dazed face. Tonie collapsed to the floor. Oddly, Georgie’s sight fixed on the two holes and blood smear on her refrigerator door.
Georgie gasped, startled, as Mason managed two steps into the room before he staggered to the table, gun dangling from his fingers. The weapon slipped free and clunked to the floor a second before Mason too dropped.
“Mason!” Georgie yelled.
Blood spilled from him, two holes in his shirt were now one large dark stain, and growing. Reaching up, she jerked open the dishtowel drawer. Grabbing a handful she then made her way to him, ignoring the sharp bites from the broken glass napkin holder digging into her through the sweat pants.
“George,” he murmured, then grunted in pain before forcing his eyes half opened. His mouth twitched into a smile that failed. “Our next date has to be better than this.”
“You think?” Her voice shook as she pressed the dishtowels against his wounds.
Sirens in the distance wailed their promise of arrival.
“That would be our backup,” Mason said, and closed his eyes.
“Mason!”
Chapter twenty-eight
No life is lived alone. It is a thread woven with other threads to make a cloth.
As they rolled Georgie out of the ambulance under the umbrella canopy of the emergency entrance to St. V., Steven and Paula were waiting with Cassie. They followed along at the sides of the gurney. Georgie caught a glimpse of April and Ryan in the background talking with a police officer, and for the smallest of a second, she thought it was Mason, and he turned. It was Roberts.
All the concerned voices, both medical and family, rambled in
her head, unable to fill an understandable slot, all disjointed gibberish. She turned her head from the swirling ambulance and police car lights. When the doors swung open, the overhead lighting in the bustling room blinded her.
Squinting, she spotted Steven’s hand and grasped it with a pleading tug. “How’s Mason?”
“He’s... uh... in surgery.” But Georgie heard the guarded wording, the odd tone in his voice, and she forced her eyes to focus. She had to see his face, but by then, he was looking elsewhere, to those in charge, speaking their medical lingo.
“Cassie. Where’s Cassie?” Georgie knew Cassie would tell her the truth.
“I’m here, Kiddo.”
Georgie turned toward the voice, and felt the tight grip at her fingers. “Tell me.”
“Cassie.” It was Paula. Georgie heard the plea in her daughter’s voice.
Cassie didn’t even look away, just tightened her grip with a shake. “I’ve never lied to her and I won’t start now. It’s a tough call, Kiddo. Anything could happen, but Mason’s being worked on by the best.” There was that reassuring pat before Cassie added, “I don’t think M&M’s ready to leave you.”
“And Tonie?” The question caught in Georgie’s throat. She didn’t have to have medical training to know Tonie’s wounds were fatal.
“Oh, she’s here... in the morgue.”
A darkness circled, but Georgie blinked it away, and asked, “How’s Nick? When did they find him?” She had to know, and fought whatever they had used to sedate her.
“Nick?” Cassie asked. “What are you talking about?”
Georgie turned to stare, searching Cassie’s face. What did she mean? Hadn’t they told her? But he called. She was certain it had been Nick on the phone. But what if it hadn’t been Nick, and they hadn’t told Cassie.
“Georgie? What about Nick?”
Georgie clenched her teeth. She couldn’t just blurt it out. Oh, God, she thought. “Cassie...” Her eyelids started to close with the sedative, but the tears made their out the corners of her eyes just the same.
Point of Attraction Page 23