“That fool. As if I could have let him live anyway.” Jillian actually smiled as she stared at Harrison’s twitching body. “Can’t you just see the headlines now? ‘Senator’s wife is the sole survivor in a twisted love triangle gone bad. Hero detective dies in an effort to save her.’”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Stephen’s hand twitched, then twitched again. He was slowly waking up, which he found curious because he hadn’t realized that he had gone to sleep. He was lying flat on his back on the floor, which was also strange, because he had no idea how he got there. The thick carpet against his back wasn’t unpleasant however, so he remained still for a moment, trying to grasp what had happened. His memory was blank.
His eyelids were heavy and when he finally managed to get them open, the room surrounding him was blurry. He squeezed his eyes shut and re-opened them, with only slightly better results. There seemed to be two of everything. The deep yellow color on the walls seemed to create a golden haze around him as everything blurred together.
He had been drugged. That much was obvious. A memory came rushing back to him.
A fancy china teacup.
He thought harder, focusing on that teacup. Jillian had brought both he and Tom hot tea earlier. He didn’t remember anything after that. So, it was the tea. Thankfully, he had only taken a few sips of it. Judging by how woozy he felt right now, whatever was in it had been very strong. If he had finished the cup, it might have killed him.
Across the room, in a plush wing-backed chair next to the fireplace, Tom sat with his head tilted straight back and his mouth hanging open. He was snoring loudly, with a tea cup spilled in his lap. His wrinkled, calloused hand had dropped to the floor.
Stephen scanned the room with blurry vision. He and Tom were the only two people in the room. He heaved his body up into a crouched position, holding his head in his hands for a scant minute while he regained his balance.
He sat still, listening for noises coming from the rest of the house. There was nothing. He had no idea how long he had been out, but sunshine poured in through the windows so it was still afternoon. He didn’t allow himself to be comforted by that. Quite a lot could have happened in an hour or even a few minutes. The quiet surrounding him was eerie and it completely unnerved him. It made the large house seem like a mausoleum.
As quickly as he could, he pushed himself off of the floor into a standing position, leaning heavily onto the senator’s massive desk for balance. His eyes focused in on the senator’s desk phone. He picked it up. Thankfully, there was a dial tone. He realized that he hadn’t been expecting one. He pushed the redial button with a shaking finger. The effects of the drug were wreaking havoc on him. He could barely even think straight.
“This is Briggs,” a male voice answered.
“Is this the FBI?” Stephen whispered, as softly as he could while still being audible.
“Yes. This is Agent Briggs. Who is this?”
“This is Stephen James. I’m calling from Senator Randall Ross’ desk phone. He said that he called you earlier?”
“Yes, he did. We’re en route to his property. We should arrive within fifteen minutes.”
“That might be too late. I don’t know what is going on, but Jillian Ross drugged me and it looks like everyone else, too. I don’t know the whereabouts of the senator, his wife or his daughter. But I do know that everyone here is in danger. It looks like Mrs. Ross is involved in whatever is going on. Just hurry.”
Without waiting for a response, Stephen replaced the receiver into the cradle of the phone. His only purpose was to make the FBI was aware of the situation. Now that they were, he could focus on the most important thing.
Finding Sydney.
He crept as silently as he could across the room, checking Tom’s pulse. It was steady and strong. He shook the older man gently in an effort to wake him, but Tom wouldn’t rouse. Stephen gave up and continued on to the doorway. He glanced down the long hallway, but saw nothing unusual. Until he stepped out and almost tripped on Deidre. She was lying directly parallel with the wall right outside of the office doorway.
Kneeling beside her, he rolled her over. But even before he could check for a pulse, he knew that she was dead. Her skin was still warm, but her green eyes were unfocused and fixated lifelessly on the wall. He drew in a ragged breath before tucking her hair behind her ear and closing her eyes softly. There were no marks or blood visible on her, so he had to assume that her degenerated system had absorbed all of the drug that Jillian had fed her and it had killed her.
As he stared at her battered face, a wave of compassion flooded through him at the end that this poor girl had met. She had fought for God only knows how long as Harrison’s captive, enduring emotional and physical abuse, only to be killed by drinking a cup of tea. Adrenaline and fury began pumping through him and he lunged to his feet, charging down the stairway. His vision was still fuzzy but he disregarded it. He’d have to make it work- he was intent on finding Sydney before Deidre’s fate became her own.
He turned left at the end of the hall and cautiously opened the first door that he came to. And the question of the whereabouts of the Ross’ staff was answered. The bodies of Stella and Ben were draped over the edge of a bathtub. Blood ran down Stella’s arm, forming a pool on the floor by the marble tub. His heart accelerated into a sprint. The body count was up to three. Apparently, Jillian was planning on leaving no witnesses.
He tried to plot a course of action in his head, but the drug in his system was making his thought process sluggish. It was frustratingly hard to think and he shook his head to clear it. As he concentrated, he suddenly remembered seeing a shot gun in the bed of Tom’s truck. Since he was only steps from the front door, he quietly slipped outdoors and made his way to the truck, trying to keep out of sight of any of the house windows. He had no way of knowing who might be watching.
Rounding the bed of the truck, he spotted a battered old shotgun with relief. He lifted it out, flipped it open and found that it was loaded.
Unfortunately, Tom hadn’t brought any replacement ammunition. Stephen would have to make do with two rounds, which was better than nothing. He grasped the cool metal tightly as he climbed the stone stairs of the front porch. It didn’t even occur to him to run and save himself. His only thought was of finding Sydney.
As he stepped quietly into the foyer, he caught the faint sound of voices coming from the back end of the house. He silently cursed the fact that he had never been in the house before. He was completely unfamiliar with it. Lifting the gun up onto his shoulder, he crept slowly into the direction of the muffled voices, his nerves standing up on end. He would just have to follow the noise.
As he continued stealthily through the library, the voices got infinitely sharper and more defined. Jillian’s hateful voice drifted through the room to him.
“Honestly, Sydney. You act as though you’ve never seen a dead person before! Well, I guess you haven’t. You can cross that off your bucket-list!”
Jillian laughed bitterly and Stephen felt relief flood through him in warm waves. Sydney was alive. That was all that mattered.
He crossed the remainder of the large room in four strides and chanced a glance into the kitchen. He found Jillian with her back facing him standing over the bloody, inert body of Harrison Daniels. He wasn’t sorry to see Harrison in the position that he was in, but his comfort was short-lived. Jillian was armed.
His gaze flew to Sydney’s face. She was slumped into her father’s side, as pale as he had ever seen her. But she was alive. He couldn’t see any visible injuries, making him want to sing and shout, but his relief died quickly.
“Okay. Who wants to go next?”
Jillian swung the gleaming black gun around, pointing it at each of them in turn. Sydney, Randall and Paul stared at her motionlessly, each face expressionless. The kitchen lights reflected off of a slight sheen of perspiration glazing Senator Hayes’ forehead, which was the only give-away of his distress. By all other appea
rances, they were utterly calm. No one in the group noticed Stephen’s head poking into the doorway. He felt his heart pound as he tried to decide what to do.
He had two rounds of ammunition and Jillian was only one person. But she was standing directly in front of the group. The spray from the shot gun could hit any of them.
“Oh, come on. I’ve had my practice round out of the way. It’ll be quick, I promise.” Jillian laughed again as she grabbed Sydney by the hair.
“Why don’t you go, Princess? Ladies first. And after you’re gone, dear daddy won’t have anything to live for anyway.”
“You’re a sick bitch, you know that?” Paul muttered.
“Oh, I’m the sick one? You’re the one who had an affair with a married man! For years. All while living a lie to the public…you had a perfect wife, perfect kids, perfect family. Perfect lies. Oh- and let’s not forget- you’re the one who molested poor Harrison his whole life.”
“Those are lies and you know it!” Paul protested, his hands clenched into tight fists at his sides.
“Yes,” Jillian answered smoothly, “I do know. But the rest of America won’t.”
She paused to grin at him like a sick Cheshire cat.
“The best lies are those that are combined with truths. It makes them much more believable. Isn’t it crazy that your lies about your sexuality are going to make it seem plausible that you’re a monster? Because once the public learns that you tried to hide who you are… they’ll believe that anything is possible. Because you lied about everything else.”
She cackled crazily as she stared at Paul’s appalled face.
“Ignore her.” Randall instructed him calmly. “She’s beyond reason now.”
Randall focused on Jillian. “Jillian, at least let me hug Sydney one more time. Will you do that? It’s not too much to ask. ”
As he spoke, he leveled his gaze at Stephen and Stephen realized that the senator was entirely aware of his presence. His breathing quickened as he watched carefully for Randall’s next move.
“Oh, whatever. You’re a sentimental fool.”
Jillian shoved Sydney hard into Randall. He caught her easily and hugged her close, keeping his eyes on his wife.
“Get behind me,” he whispered.
“What?” Sydney pulled away from him in surprise, but he grabbed her and thrust her behind him before she had time to react. He guarded her with his body as he addressed his wife again.
“You’re the fool. And you’re going to have to shoot me first, Jillian. It won’t look like I shot my own daughter, I can guarantee you that.” His expression was grim as he continued to shield his daughter.
“Stop, Randall. I will shoot you. I don’t want to do it this way, but I will.” Jillian’s voice was venomous and didn’t falter. The gun she aimed at him did not shake in the slightest.
“Well, darling, what way do you plan on doing it? Did you plan on kneeling next to me and whispering endearments? I think not.”
“Hmm. You know, if you’re going to make things difficult…”
Her voice trailed off as she changed the aim of her gun. She swung it around until it was pointed at Paul Hayes’ heart.
“We’ll just do it this way.”
Paul only had time to gasp before Jillian calmly squeezed the trigger and he staggered backward, crashing through a window. Randall’s shout split the air. Time seemed to stand still as they all watched Senator’s Hayes’ body roll to a stop on the ground outside and remain unmoving.
“He’s dead because of you,” Jillian hissed.
“No!”
Randall broke the silence and lunged forward like a cannon, grabbing Jillian and spinning her around. She struggled against him, but he moved with the strength of a raging bull and he was much larger than she was. With one hand, he forced Jillian’s gun straight up in the air. With the other, he held her slim body tightly to his chest.
“Now!” he yelled to Stephen. “Do it now!” He glanced at Sydney. “Syd, get back!”
Jillian screeched wildly, flailing like a maniac. In the midst of the struggle, her gun went off, shooting a hole in the ceiling. Randall grasped her hand tighter, squeezing until her knuckles turned white. Sydney looked in relief at Stephen before she moved away from her parents.
Stephen didn’t waste another second. He stepped into the doorway, took quick aim and shot Jillian squarely in the chest. The impact sent both she and Randall flying backward into the breakfast bar, sending the bar stools flying into every direction.
Sydney screamed as blood splattered onto her. She wasn’t sure whose blood it was, because the entire kitchen seemed to be a scene from a bloody nightmare. Her feet slipped and slid in the pooled blood on the floor and she tripped and fell backward. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion.
Her mother hit the ground and flopped over, face down. She lay still as her blonde hair quickly became saturated with her own blood as it pooled around her. Her gun rested limply in her motionless hand.
Randall lay beside her, his breathing hard and labored, but his eyes open. Sydney rushed to his side, pausing only to kick her mother’s gun across the kitchen floor. She tried not to notice that her father’s hand was covered in blood as she grasped it tightly to her chest. She swallowed hard and focused on her dad’s face.
“Daddy, please. Don’t die. please,” she pleaded as Randall closed his eyes.
“I’m trying not to, Princess,” he whispered, but he didn’t re-open his eyes. She gripped his hand even tighter.
He struggled to speak. “Is Paul…”
Sydney swallowed hard and glanced at Paul. He was laying completely still outside of the window. The shattered window was spattered with blood and she didn’t see Paul’s chest moving. She didn’t think he was breathing.
“I don’t know, daddy. I can’t tell,” she murmured.
Even she could detect the doubt in her voice, however. Randall nodded almost imperceptibly. Sydney felt Stephen’s presence directly behind her before she felt him lightly grasp her shoulder.
Glancing up at him, she asked hurriedly, “Stephen, can you call an ambulance, please?” She let go of her father’s hand only to use her own to try and staunch the bleeding from the wound in her father’s shoulder. She gasped as she saw how much blood pumped out around her hand. He was losing far too much blood.
“Daddy, you’re going to be fine,” she insisted. She wasn’t sure if she was assuring herself or Randall. She began praying so quickly that it sounded like a mantra. “Please, God. Please, please, God.” She couldn’t even manage to finish the prayer. She knew that God would know what she was praying for. And she just kept repeating it. “Please, God. Please, please…”
She could hear Stephen speaking on the kitchen phone, rushing his words as he requested an ambulance. At the exact same time, she heard loud footsteps charging through the house and men yelling “FBI!”
She didn’t feel any relief, however, because she could feel her father’s life slipping from him as his body started to shake.
“Please, daddy. Don’t die…”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The fact that she should be devastated didn’t escape her. Her mother was lying in a pool of blood in front of her, but somehow Sydney couldn’t bring herself to react. She knew that it would hit her later. All of the pain from her mother’s betrayal and hatred would sink in when this was all over, but for now, she only felt numb.
She stood silently in the corner of the kitchen with Stephen’s arm wrapped around her shoulder, watching the paramedics work on her father. He was on a gurney now, strapped to an oxygen mask and an IV bag. The paramedics were working so fast that their hands seemed to be a blur. He was still alive, though, and that was the important thing.
Paul Hayes was not. Neither were Ben Keyes, Stella Wilkinson, Harrison Daniels, Deidre Wilcox or Jillian Ross. Six lives had been taken in one afternoon. It seemed like she should feel differently, now that the balance of life had shifted so much directly in front
of her. But she still only felt the strange numbness consuming her. It all felt almost surreal.
She sank to the floor and Stephen sat next to her. Someone brought her a blanket and she didn’t bother telling them that she wasn’t cold. She was shaking from the shock. Stephen wrapped it around her shoulders anyway and held her hand.
“Sydney, I’m so sorry. This shouldn’t have happened. Tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”
His voice was pained and it caught in his throat. She turned her watery hazel eyes to stare at him, blankly at first and then with compassion.
“Stephen, none of this is your fault. I’m alive because of you. My dad is alive because of you. Thank you. You saved me. Again.” She leaned into his shoulder, resting her head against him. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” he murmured back, rubbing her shoulders lightly. She closed her eyes, enjoying the comfort that she found in his touch. His were hands that would never hurt her.
“Sydney?” They both looked up in surprise at the tiny voice.
“Danny! Where have you been?”
With everything that had happened, Sydney had completely forgotten about the little boy. She hadn’t seen him since she left him in the bath tub. It seemed like ages ago now.
Danny was incredibly pale as he stood silently in the doorway, taking in the bloody scene in front of him. It took a moment before Sydney realized that blood was running down his arm and dripping onto the floor in droplets. She jumped up and rushed to him, pulling him down onto her lap on the floor so that she could examine him.
“Danny, what happened?”
“I don’t know. I was upstairs, resting after your mom gave me a snack and tea. And then a little bit ago, a bug bit me. And I started bleeding.”
A bug bite? Stephen and Sydney’s eyes met over the little boy’s head, and in unison, they looked at the hole in the ceiling.
Jillian’s errant bullet. The guest bedroom that Danny had been in was directly over the kitchen. Sydney quickly pushed Danny’s sleeve up to his shoulder to find an inch-long cut on his bicep. The bullet had only grazed him although it might be deep enough to require stitches. All of the breath in her lungs exhaled in a whoosh of relief.
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