by B. J Daniels
Cautiously, she walked to the back edge of the deck to look down past the pool and the lower deck. Her bike still leaned against the railing. If she could reach it—
She could hear Jake’s words in her head saying he was on his way. He would be at the dock soon. Take the elevator down to the dock and wait for him. She turned and looked back at it still sitting empty at the edge of the deck. Then she hurried over to it and pulled open the door. She stared at the empty elevator for a moment. Why had Helen brought it up? Just to slow down Johnny and Jake? Or for another reason?
Don’t get in the elevator! Clancy stumbled back, no longer sure she could trust her instincts. Take the bike. Get to the resort and call for help. She turned and fled, racing down the ramp past the pool. She thought she heard a noise behind her but she didn’t turn. She reached the railing and grabbed her bike.
“No, Clancy,” a voice behind her said calmly. “That’s not the plan.”
Clancy turned slowly, expecting to see Helen at the edge of the deck in her wheelchair. The last thing she expected was to see her standing with the deputy’s gun pointed at Clancy’s heart.
THE WIND HAD PICKED UP as they neared the island. Waves hammered the bow and spilled into the boat, drenching them both. Jake didn’t slow down. A million thoughts raced around in his brain. All the things he wanted to do with Clancy when they got out of this mess. Ahead he could see the dock. They were almost there. Hang on, Clancy, he cried. I’m coming!
* * *
“YOU CAN WALK!” Clancy cried, unable to take her eyes off a Helen she’d never seen before. “You were never paralyzed!”
“I was for a while.” Helen moved closer, leveling the gun at Clancy’s chest. “But after a few weeks I started to get some feeling back in my legs. The doctors said I might, but Johnny worried that I never would.”
“He doesn’t know?”
Helen cocked an eyebrow at her that implied Clancy was smarter than to ask a silly question like that. Of course he didn’t know. Helen motioned with the gun for Clancy to start moving up the ramp toward the house. “Let’s go out on the deck where we can see when Jake and Johnny get here.”
“You stayed in a wheelchair all these years to keep Johnny?” Clancy asked in amazement as she stood staring at Helen.
“With Johnny fishing most of the time, it wasn’t hard to keep up the charade. I learned from the master,” Helen said. “I watched how Lola entrapped Johnny with her helplessness. Did he want a woman who was strong and resourceful? No, he wanted one who was inept, dependent, hopeless. Someone he’d have to spend his life’s energy taking care of.” Helen’s gaze turned hard. “All I did was pattern myself after Lola. She was what he wanted. So I became her. Totally dependent on him for my very existence.”
“You killed Lola!”
“I had no choice,” Helen said, seeming surprised by Clancy’s reaction. “I didn’t know Johnny had gone to the resort that night to break it off with her. But it’s probably just as well. I wanted her out of our lives forever and at any price. Unfortunately, for Lola the price was death.” She motioned for Clancy to get moving.
Clancy started up the ramp. “And Dex? Was that his price, too?”
“He was just like his mother,” Helen said. “He wanted something that didn’t belong to him. In his case, it was my money. He thought I’d pay for his silence.”
Helen shook her head as if the whole thing saddened her. “He called to say he had something of mine. I didn’t believe him at first. He said he had proof. I told him to leave it under a bait can on the dock. Dex just figured Johnny would pick it up for me. He couldn’t know that I’d come myself.”
The message the cabin girl had taken to the dock. It had been for Helen.
“It was a drawing of the necklace and a demand for money,” Helen said.
“How did Dex get the necklace?” Clancy asked, wondering how Helen’s necklace had ended up in Lola’s belongings after the fire.
“I had it on the night I went to the resort to deal with Lola. She tore it from my neck in the struggle.”
That’s when the clasp was broken, Clancy thought as she tried to walk more slowly, stalling for time, for Jake.
“I just assumed it had burned in the fire,” Helen continued, sounding distant, as if the past no longer mattered. “The police must have found it and, thinking it was Lola’s, given it to the family. It was the only proof that I’d been at the resort the night Lola was murdered.”
Clancy felt a chill race across her skin and turned to look at Helen. “That night at the café. Dex saw something in the pines. It was you. Out of your wheelchair. Walking. No wonder he’d looked so frightened.”
Helen smiled. “I enjoyed playing with him. Later I surprised him and his girlfriend at his cabin. I was in my wheelchair and convinced Dex he’d only imagined seeing me standing in the pines.”
That would explain why Dex was killed sans underwear.
“You agreed to pay him off?” Clancy asked, remembering what Kiki had told her about Dex’s mood.
Helen nodded distractedly.
“Then, how did the beads get broken at your house?” Clancy asked.
Helen looked up in surprise as if the question had pulled her from other thoughts.
“I found the beads from the necklace caught in your deck,” Clancy said.
Helen smiled. “How very observant of you. Dex made me so angry, coming to the house when I told him not to. It was a good thing I’d given Johnny something to help him sleep. I grabbed the beads and…” She looked across the pool, her eyes suddenly full of tears. “The necklace broke. Johnny made it for me while we were in high school. He gave it to me the night he asked me to marry him.”
Clancy thought she heard the roar of a boat on the wind. Helen must have heard it, too. She motioned with the gun for Clancy to head up the last ramp to the top deck.
Clancy felt sick inside. Jake would be here soon. But soon enough? “How did you get Dex into my garret?”
“Dex thought Lola had embezzled the money from the resort and hidden it somewhere. I just told him it was in your garret and where you kept a key, over the front door.”
Jake had been right; everyone in the world knew about the key.
“And Dex believed you that I had the money at the lodge?”
They reached the top deck, and Clancy felt time running out as quickly as beach sand poured from between her fingers.
“Dex was like his mother. Greedy, but not particularly bright,” Helen said, not unkindly. “I followed him to your lodge. I didn’t know you would come sleepwalking in and pick up the sculpture I’d used to kill him. I remember your mother saying what a sound sleeper you always were. She thought that was one reason you sleepwalked.”
Helen had always known about her sleepwalking. “Weren’t you worried that I’d remember seeing you?” Clancy asked.
“Of course not, dear, I’d seen you sleepwalk before, the night I killed Lola. I passed you on the dock and you looked right at me.”
Clancy turned to stare at her, realizing Helen had spared her that night on the dock only because Clancy had been walking in her sleep. “Then, why did you frame me with Dex’s murder if you felt you had nothing to fear from me?”
“I was just buying time, dear.” She frowned. “But then you came over asking about the necklace and I knew, as badly as I didn’t want to, I’d have to stop you.”
Clancy’s eyes widened in horror as she realized this softspoken, caring woman she’d known most of her life had become a cold-blooded killer. “You tried to kill me.” Even now, Clancy found it hard to believe.
Helen wagged her head. “It grieved me terribly, dear. You were the last person I ever wanted to hurt.”
Clancy felt repulsed as she noticed the silver bracelet on Helen’s slim wrist. “It wasn’t a watch that scraped my ankle but your bracelet. After I told you I thought it was a watch, you planted the watch off the end of my dock to make it look like Frank Ames did it.” Clancy stared at her in abhorrence.
“You couldn’t have been the person who ran me off the trail on the motorbike,” Clancy said, thinking Helen had to have had an accomplice. Frank?
“I’m quite capable of riding a motorbike, dear,” Helen said, sounding offended. “I used to be an athlete, remember?”
Yes, and Clancy had forgotten what excellent shape Helen had kept herself in all these years. She remembered seeing Helen hoist herself into the wheelchair. The woman had incredible strength for her age. And Clancy realized Helen Branson was capable of anything. Including another murder.
“Frank figured out that you were the one framing him,” Clancy said.
Helen seemed not to be listening. “That young waitress saw me take Frank’s bike and thought to cash in on my misfortune.” Helen tsked to herself. “So unfortunate. But it doesn’t matter now, does it, dear? Time has run out.”
Clancy had reached the edge of the top deck. The wind whistled across the mountain, whipping her hair into her eyes. She backed the last few feet to the railing as Helen indicated her to do, intensely aware of the gun pointed at her heart, but thinking more of the cliff behind her.
“Helen, you can’t expect to get away with this,” Clancy cried.
“Oh, I don’t dear. I’m just cleaning up a few loose ends. Tidying up.” Helen stepped around Clancy to look down the cliff, but the gun never wavered. “Don’t do anything foolish, will you, dear.” She smiled as she glanced up. “I always thought you and Jake Hawkins would make a fine couple.”
Clancy could hear a boat motor growing louder over the howl of the wind. She felt tears sting her eyes.
“They’re almost here. It’s almost over.” Helen looked up at Clancy. “Johnny’s dying of cancer. He thinks I don’t know.” She smiled sadly, her eyes bright with tears. “I’d hoped for just a little more time with him.”
Clancy glanced past Helen in shock. Frank Ames was no longer sprawled in the living-room doorway. He stood behind Helen, blood running down into his left eye as he reached out a hand.
* * *
JAKE WAS OUT OF THE BOAT the moment they reached the dock. He didn’t bother with the elevator but took the stairs, two at a time. Below him Johnny stumbled from the boat. Jake heard him try the elevator. It groaned but didn’t move. Helen had locked it on top to slow them down. Behind him, he heard Johnny running up the stairs. Jake ran faster.
* * *
HELEN SMILED AS SHE SAW the startled expression on Clancy’s face. “You really don’t think that old ploy is going to work, do you, dear? I’m suppose to see that look on your face and then turn around so you can jump me and take the gun away. Really, Clancy, I thought you were more intelligent than that.”
Frank laid a hand on Helen’s shoulder. Surprise, then fright, registered in her eyes. She started to wheel around. Clancy lunged for the gun and, grabbing Helen’s wrist, fought to wrestle the pistol away. Helen swung her body to catch Frank in the face with her elbow; he fell backward, hitting the deck hard. The gun went off, the shot echoing across the deck.
* * *
JAKE HAD NEARED THE top of the stairs when he heard the shot. His heart in his throat, he drew his.38 from the holster at his ribs and bounded up the steps, fear racing him up the last few.
Clancy still wrestled with Helen for the pistol, but her concentration broke when she spotted Jake. Helen wrenched the gun from Clancy’s grasp and was raising the barrel to point it at Clancy when his foot came down on the last step.
“Drop it!” he yelled over the wind, ready to fire if Helen hesitated for an instant.
The gun dropped from Helen’s hand and hit the deck with a thud.
Jake rushed over to scoop it up. Then pulled Clancy to him. “Are you all right?” His heart slammed against his ribs, making each breath a labor.
She nodded.
Helen smiled as she saw Johnny lumber up the last of the stairs. She ran to him. He took her in his arms and held her, seeming only mildly surprised that she could walk. Jake looked into the big man’s face and saw the pain. And the silent plea. “Let me take her in.”
Jake nodded.
“It’s all over, Helen,” he said to his wife, hugging her to him.
She nodded and turned to look back at Jake and Clancy. “Yes,” she said. “It’s all over.”
“Shall we take the elevator down?” Johnny asked Helen.
She looked up at him, her face full of love. “Yes. That’s exactly what I thought we’d do.”
They walked arm in arm to the elevator.
“Jake,” Clancy cried softly. “No, you can’t let them—”
Jake pulled her closer. “Let them go, Clancy,” he whispered.
Johnny helped Helen into the elevator and stepped in after her, closing the door behind them. He turned to look at Jake, tears in his eyes. Then he pushed the button. The elevator dropped like a rock.
Epilogue
The wind whipped Clancy’s hair as she watched the Galveston skyline grow smaller behind the boat. She brushed her hair back and breathed in the smell of the gulf, letting it fill her lungs as she looked at her husband.
Jake stood on the bridge of the thirty-six-foot trawler steering them toward the endless horizon, his Astros baseball cap cocked back, his tanned hands strong and sure on the wheel.
Her husband, she thought, and smiled as she joined him.
“What are you smiling about, Mrs. Hawkins?” Jake asked as he pulled her closer.
She liked the sound of that, loved the feel of him. “You,” she answered. For so long, Clancy thought she’d never smile again.
The days after Helen and Johnny’s deaths had been as dark as the days after the resort fire and the loss of her parents. But unlike then, Jake helped her through those early summer days, piecing together what had started ten years before and finally ended on the Bransons’ deck.
Some of the answers died with Helen and Johnny. Others were locked in Clancy’s subconscious. Had she really walked along the cliffs all the way to Helen’s in her sleep to return with a single blue bead, not once, but twice? Had part of her known all along it was Helen? Is that why she’d continued to walk down the beach each night?
Whatever the reason, the sleepwalking had stopped as abruptly as it had started. She knew that as long as she could curl up with Jake each night, she would have no reason to walk anywhere in her sleep again.
Frank had lived and become a hero, taking credit for saving Clancy’s life, although Clancy knew now that Helen had never intended to harm her or Jake at the end. But Frank seemed happier than he had in years. Maybe he’d finally gotten rid of that chip on his shoulder. Or maybe he’d just finally laid Lola’s ghost to rest.
With Tadd’s help, Warren Hawkins’s case was reopened. He got out of prison in time for their wedding and stood next to his son as Jake promised to love, honor and cherish.
Their lives had been different as they’d left Hawk Island. Like Johnny, she and Jake had once seen the world in blacks and whites, rights and wrongs. Now they could see the grays.
It had been Jake’s idea to marry as soon as possible. “Life is too short,” he’d said. “We’ve already lost enough time. Let’s not lose any more.”
“Aunt Kiki isn’t going to like it,” Clancy had pointed out.
“Oh, you might be surprised. I think I finally figured out why she hired me to investigate your case.”
Kiki had cried at the wedding, then presented them with the thirty-six-foot trawler. “Go see the world, and when you get back, I’ll have the nursery ready at the lodge.” Clancy had assured her that wouldn’t be necessary. Not yet, anyway.
Clancy snuggled against her husband and looked back to see the Galveston skyline disappear behind them. When she turned back, Jake was gazing down at her as if just looking at her brought him joy.
“Did I ever tell you about these hunches that I sometimes get?” Jake asked.
She shook her head and grinned up at him. “I don’t believe you ever have.”
He rubbed at the back of his ne
ck. “How do you feel about twins?”
“Twins?” Clancy cried.
“Twin boys. Born nine months from now.”
She laughed. “You really don’t put any stock in these hunches of yours, do you?”
“Nah,” he said as he put the boat on automatic pilot and led her down to their cabin. “None at all.”
* * * * *
Read on for an excerpt of
LUCKY SHOT
the latest installment in
The Montana Hamiltons
by NEW YORK TIMES bestselling author
B.J. Daniels
Hot-shot reporter Max Malone is on the story behind a decades-old disappearance. The problem is he needs the help of his subject's daughter, Kat Hamilton. He's determined to uncover the truth—and if he’s right, it could get them both killed.
Chapter One
MAX MALONE SCRATCHED his shaggy sandy-blond hair and squinted at the sunrise that cast the awe-inspiring Crazy Mountains in a pale pink glow. He’d camped just outside the Hamilton Ranch, sleeping in the back of his pickup and hoping it wouldn’t rain.
He needed a haircut, and he also had a couple days’ growth of beard. All part of the job, he thought as he surveyed the news vans parked outside the Hamilton Ranch gate. There’d been more vans parked here nine months ago when the senator’s first wife had returned from the dead. Now only two vehicles remained, along with a few reporters who drove out some mornings after a hot shower, a latte and a night in a warm bed. Like him, they lived in hope of getting something newsworthy on the days they heard the senator was back from Washington.
Max had met the other reporters and photographers the first day he’d shown up here. They would have looked down their noses at him even if he hadn’t been driving an old pickup and sleeping in the back of it under the camper shell. He was a freelancing investigative journalist, one of a dying breed.
But he had a reputation that preceded him so he hoped he made them all nervous as they worried about what he was up to. Anyone who had ever read his articles would know that this wasn’t his kind of story.