White Mountain

by Dinah McCall

  He bolted into the bedroom and turned on the light.

  “Freeze!” he yelled. “Get down! Get down now!”

  Rostov spun, his face contorted in sudden rage as he pulled a knife from his sleeve and launched himself at Jack.

  They went down in a tangle of arms and legs as Isabella burst from the bathroom. Jack caught a momentary flash of nightgown and knew she was trying to help.

  “Get out!” he shouted. “Get out of the room!”

  Isabella ran out of the room and into the hall screaming as she went.

  Rostov grabbed Jack by the wrist, trying to wrestle the gun from his hand. It went off beside Rostov’s ear, deafening as the bullet sailed past his head and into the wall behind him. Jack brought his knee up between Rostov’s legs and sent him rolling. Rostov bolted to his feet, pain searing his testicles, as he kicked Jack once in the stomach and then ran from the room. The moment he made it into the hallway, he’d knew he had missed his chance. Isabella Abbott was nowhere in sight. With no time to search for her, he headed for the kitchen, sidestepping small tables and knocking down chairs as he went.

  The night air was cool on his face as he burst from the hotel. He ran with his head down and without looking back. Only after he’d reached the safety of the forest did he stop and turn. Every light in the place was on, and the same man who’d caught him was standing on the terrace looking out into the dark—still holding the gun.

  Rostov’s heart was pounding, his hands shaking with rage, as he leaned over and puked from the pain between his legs. He’d been so close. Cupping himself as he groaned, he saw the man slip back inside.

  It was the writer. He had recognized him on sight. But what need did a writer have for a Glock? Cursing the fates, he hurried away, desperate to take shelter in the old mine he’d found before they began to hunt for him. He’d underestimated the opposition, and it had almost gotten him killed. He couldn’t afford to let it happen again.

  He ran and didn’t stop again until he’d gained the safety of his hiding place. Slipping past the deadfall of timber blocking the entrance to the mine, he crawled on his hands and knees to the place where he’d made his bed. It was far enough away from the opening that he could safely build a fire—something that had become increasingly necessary as the nights continued to grow colder.

  He tossed some tinder on the embers and then rocked back on his heels, watching them as they caught. Only after the flames were glowing did he lay a small log on the fire. Then he dug through his backpack and pulled out a stick of dried beef. After the fine food and hearty meals he’d been eating for the past week at the hotel, it was a sorry way to fend off hunger.

  The hotel was in an uproar. After the gunshot, the Silvias had been in the group of guests who’d rushed to the top of the stairs in concern. Leonardo was ready to pack their things and take Maria back to New York, but she was firm.

  “No, Leonard. I will not go until I take back a baby in my belly.”

  “If we wanted to be shot in our beds, we could have stayed home and saved ourselves a trip to Montana,” he muttered, as he hurried her back to their room

  “No one is hurt and the bad man is gone,” Maria said, and locked them in their room.

  Isabella was trying not to get hysterical. Only her Uncle John and Uncle Rufus were on the premises. The others had stayed at the hospital with Thomas. Once she’d assured them that she was okay, she hustled them back to their rooms. She wasn’t convinced that the chaos was over, and the last thing she wanted was for another uncle to succumb to the shock of what was going on as Uncle Thomas had done.

  Just as the last of the guests were going back to their rooms, Jack ran back into the lobby. She took one look at him and walked into his arms.

  His newly healing ribs were aching from the kick he’d received, but pain was nothing compared to having this woman in his arms. He held her there at the foot of the stairs with the portrait hanging above them, a silent witness to their embrace.

  “You save my life.”

  Jack masked a shudder. He’d come damn close to being too late to brag about it.

  “It’s a good thing you woke up,” he said. “Or I wouldn’t have had the chance.”

  “It was Daddy,” she said.

  “What?”

  “I was dreaming, and suddenly Daddy was in the dream, telling me to forget about secrets and wake up, because someone was at the door.”

  “Hell,” Jack muttered. “That’s quite an alarm system you’ve got going.”

  Isabella chose not to tell him it wasn’t the first time that her father had come to her in her dreams. There were some things better left unsaid.

  “I thought he’d killed you,” she said. “I heard the gunshot, and then he came running out and you—“

  “Did you call the police?”

  “Yes.”

  He sighed. “It was Victor Ross.”

  “I know. I saw him. Did you hear him taunting me?”

  He smoothed the tangle of hair from her eyes and then rocked her where the stood.

  “Yes, baby, I heard.”

  “Why, Jack? Why is this happening?”

  “I don’t know,” he said.

  She pulled out of his arms.

  “Don’t lie to me.”

  “I’m not. I swear. I don’t know why the man is still here, but I suspect it has something to do with your uncles.”

  “Then why come after me?” she asked.

  “Who do your uncles love most?” he asked.

  Her eyes widened. “Me…I think. Are you saying that Ross was going to use me to get to them?”

  “Again, I don’t know. But it makes more sense than anything else I can think of. He wants something. I just don’t know what.”

  “Dear God…if only Daddy were still alive.”

  Jack thought of the photo lying back in his room. He wasn’t so sure that Samuel Abbott would have been any more cooperative that the other old men had been. Obviously they had all faked their own deaths and taken up bogus identities. He was just waiting for confirmation of it from Steven Randolph. It was the why of it all that held the key.

  “I hear sirens,” Jack said. “You sit here where I can see you. I’m going to unlock the front door.”

  It took the better part of two hours for the local sheriff’s office to secure the crime scene. The crime scene investigator had left Isabella’s room in a mess. Fingerprint powder was everywhere. There were hundreds of prints, but Jack knew none of them would belong to Victor Ross, because when they’d been fighting, Jack had seen he was wearing gloves.

  Also, identifying himself as a Federal agent had caused quite a stir. He’d told them as little as possible as to why he was here, only that he was following the man who’d killed Frank Walton. They hadn’t asked him why an agent with the FBI would be working a botched Brighton Beach mugging, but he’d seen the look the sheriff gave him and knew they suspected more was going on. At least they hadn’t asked, which had saved him the trouble of refusing to answer.

  Isabella had been questioned repeatedly about Victor Ross, from the time she’d hired him up to yesterday, when she’d paid him for the week’s work. Her confusion was obvious, and her patience was growing thin. Finally she got to her feet and moved to the front door.

  “Gentlemen, it’s late. I’ve told you everything I know at least four times. If I remember anything else I will call. Otherwise…good night.”

  Knowing when to retreat had always been one of the sheriff’s strong points. He tipped his hat to Isabella, gave Jack a long, considering stare and then left.

  Isabella turned the lock, then dropped her head and leaned forward, bracing herself against the door with the flats of her hands.

  “Oh God.”

  Suddenly her whole body was shaking. Jack caught her before she slid to the floor.

  “Come with me,” he said gently, then led her toward the stairs.

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “To my room. At least the
re I know you’ll be safe.”

  Her chin quivered as they reached the landing.

  “I don’t think I’ll ever feel safe again.”

  “Yes, you will. I promise.” He opened the door to his room. “See that bed?”

  She nodded.

  “Get in it.”

  “Where will you sleep?”

  “Beside you…and it will be okay.”

  She only looked at him once, just to assure herself that he meant what he said. He’d said it would be okay, and it had to be, because she couldn’t take any more surprises.

  “Jack?”

  “What, honey?”

  “I’m glad you’re here.”

  “Yes, baby, so am I. Now go to bed.”

  Jack pulled back the covers, then turned her around to face hi.

  “Here, honey, let’s take off your robe. Now your shoes.”

  She sat on the edge of the bed, letting him tend to her as if she were a child. Unable to argue, unwilling to fight, she rolled over on her side and curled up, her knees against her chest.

  Jack locked the door, pulled off his socks and shirt, and laid his gun on the table beside the bed. He didn’t think he would need it again tonight, but better safe than sorry.

  He looked at her then, wondering as he got in beside her, why this didn’t seem strange. He had women from time to time, but he never spent the night. It always seemed a step toward something final that he wasn’t ready to make.

  He saw her shudder as he reached for the covers.

  “Are you cold?”

  “All the way to my bones.”

  “Then come here to me,” he said softly, and pulled her back against the curve of his body.

  She stiffened, but when the only thing he did was cradle her, she began to relax.

  “I’ve never slept with a man before. I mean, I’ve had sex…but not in a bed.”

  Jack grinned, glad she couldn’t see his face.

  “Back seat of a car?”

  “Bar loft.”

  His grin widened.

  “Damn, Tink, you never fail to surprise me.”

  Her eyes closed as a small sigh slid out from between her lips.

  “It’s what being a woman is all about,” she mumbled.

  “What? Having sex in a barn loft?”

  “No.”

  “Then what?”

  “Surprises. It’s al about surprises.”

  It was the last thing she said before falling asleep.

  Jack didn’t think he was going to be able to relax. Her bottom was soft and tempting and pressed up against his groin, and the steady rise and fall of her breasts beneath his hand was more than he thought he could take.

  He closed his eyes for a moment, just planning to rest, but having Isabella in his arms was too comfortable and so familiar. He relaxed within seconds and soon fell asleep.

  While Jack and Isabella were sound asleep, John and Rufus had yet to close their eyes. Ever since they’d gone back upstairs, they’d been in urgent conversation, trying to find a way out of the mess they were in.

  “It’s not as though we never thought it would happen,” John said.

  Unable to sit still for long, Rufus was pacing from window to couch and back again.

  “But not now,” he moaned. “For the first five years, I lived every day in fear, certain we’d be found out. Then the years began to pass without incident, and before we knew it, we’d grown old.” He threw up his hands in frustration as he looked at his friend. “It isn’t fair, you know…happening now.”

  “You know what Samuel would say if he were still alive.”

  Rufus nodded. “Yes, that life isn’t fair, but it’s life, and the alternative is not acceptable.”

  John sighed. “I don’t know if he was right about that. Right now, I’m thinking he and Frank are the lucky ones. They got out before the proverbial shit hit the fan.”

  “They didn’t ‘get out.’ They died,” Rufus muttered.

  The solemn expression on John’s long, thin face made it appear even longer.

  “Same thing,” he said, then pointed to the phone. “Someone’s got to call David and Jasper. They’ve got to know about Isabella before they hear the gossip in town.”

  “I hate to call the room this late,” Rufus said. “What if Thomas is sleeping? We shouldn’t disturb his rest.”

  “Listen to what you’re saying,” John said. “So what if Thomas’s rest is disturbed? We almost lost our girl tonight. If it hadn’t been for the Dolan fellow, it would have happened.”

  Rufus’s ruddy face turned pale. “He’s FBI, John. It’s only a matter of time before this comes down around our ears.”

  “So what? We accepted that possibility long ago. Right now our concern should be making certain Isabella doesn’t go down with us.”

  Rufus’s shoulders slumped. “You’re right. Of course you’re right. Our poor little girl. Dear God, she can’t know what we’ve done. It would destroy her.”

  “Then I say we call David.”

  “You do it,” Rufus said. “I’m too shaken.”

  John sighed as he went for the phone. It was true. When things went wrong, Rufus was always the first one to fade.

  He dialed the phone. Since it was after hours, the switchboard was closed and the phone was answered in the ER.

  “This is John Michaels,” he said. “I need to speak to Dr. Schultz. It’s an emergency.”

  The nurse recognized the name and the voice, and since everyone in the small hospital was well aware that Thomas Mowry had been admitted only hours earlier, she knew David Schultz was still on the premises.

  “Just a moment, Mr. Michaels. I’ll ring the nurses’ station. They’ll know where he is.”

  “Thank you.” John said, and waited for the call to be transferred.

  “Second floor nurses’ station.”

  “This is John Michaels. I need to speak with Dr. Schultz. It’s an emergency.”

  “He’s in Mr. Mowry’s room. I’ll transfer the call for you.”

  Moments later, the phone rang and John heard David answer.

  “David…its John. How is Thomas?”

  “He’s fine. Sedated and sleeping easily. He showed no signs of having had an attack, nor of any damage to the heart muscle, so I think we’re okay here.”

  “That’s good, because we’re not okay here.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Someone broke into Isabella’s room tonight. She woke up before he got inside and locked herself in her bathroom, then called Jack Dolan. He saver her from God only knows what, but the man got away.”

  “Good Lord!” David gasped. “Do they know who it was?”

  “Yes. Victor Ross.”

  There was a moment of silence. John knew that David was absorbing the shock, just as they’d had to do.

  “What are we going to do?” John finally asked. “This is falling down around our ears, but we’ve got to protect her. You know how Samuel felt about this. We swore an oath to him, David. We promised on everything we held dear that we would never tell her. But if this goes on much longer, we won’t have to. She’s going to find out from someone else, and when she does, it will destroy her.”

  “Dear God…I never meant—“

  “None of us did,” John said. “But we’ve know for years that every project was failing. We should have stopped then, when the first ones started to self-destruct.”

  Weary and suddenly heartsick, David rubbed the bridge of his nose.

  “Self-destruct? Why don’t we just come out and say what’s what instead of using such a clean, clinical expression? They committed suicide. Ugly, but plain and simple.”

  John’s voice started to shake. “It was because of the voices…but if that had been the case, then the medications for schizophrenia should have worked.”

  “I know, I know, but remember what Samuel said about that.”

  John sighed. “yes, he said it was because the voices they heard weren’t because
the were crazy. They were just caught up in their old memories.”

  “Yes, exactly, and they didn’t know how to process them.”

  “and that’s because they didn’t know what we’d done.” John said. “God help them…God help them all,” he muttered.

  “There’s no one left for Him to help.” David said.

  “Yes, there is, and we’ve got to do our part.”

  Knowing that his old friend was right, David made a quick decision.

  “Can you and Rufus get to the lab without being missed?”

  “Yes, the police are gone and everyone is in bed.”

  “Then go pick up where we left off. I’ll leave Jasper with Thomas and get there as soon as I can. We’ve come too far on this last project to pull back now, but we’re going to have to hurry to get it done. After that, it won’t matter who knows what.”

  “It’s going to matter to Isabella.”

  “She’ll know only what we choose to tell her,” David said sharply. “Now get Rufus and get to work.”

  “He’s here with me now. You know where we’ll be.”

  They disconnected, then John turned to his old friend.

  “Are you up to a bout of midnight madness?”

  Rufus shrugged. “I thought we’d already had some of that.”

  “David will be joining us as soon as he can. He thinks, if we hurry, we can finalize the last implant before everything comes undone.”

  Rufus snorted. “It’s already unwinding, for God’s sake. However, I’m game if you are. I’ll get dressed and be with you shortly.”

  “I’ll wait for you in David’s room,” John said.

  Rufus nodded. “I won’t be long.”

  Maria Silvia lay curled up against her husband’s back, her arm flung across his belly, taking comfort in the steady rise and fall of his chest, as well as the occasional soft snore.

  The incident downstairs had been more unsettling to her than she was willing to admit. She was big believer in omens, and what had happened downstairs earlier left her shaken. Was this God’s way of telling her that what they were trying to do was all wrong? Was it truly her fate to go through life childless?

  She drew a deep, shuddering breath and then crawled out of bed. Careful not to wake Leonardo, she dropped to her knees by the side of the bed and started to pray.