Steve flipped the light switch and heard Donovan breathe a sigh of relief.
“It’s Carol,” Donovan said. “I’m worried she might do something to the girls.”
“Carol?” It took Steve a moment to understand his meaning before he jogged over to the door leading into the garage. “Beemer, come!” He grabbed Beemer’s leash from a hook just inside the door.
The big shepherd bounded out of the garage like a racehorse leaving the starting gate. “Give me something of Carol’s for him to smell.” Donovan handed him Carol’s coat. Steve put the coat up to Beemer’s nose, then attached his leash. “Fetch, boy. Fetch.”
Beemer barked, sprang forward, and headed for the back gate. As Steve pulled the gate open, he noticed a freshly dug hole. When had that happened? he wondered.
Flashlights searching, the two men followed the ex-K-9 toward the ravine.
Abby ran as fast as she could, wishing she’d had enough brains to go back into the house to get a flashlight. She followed Olivia, who was barking as furiously as when they’d first started out. “Mallory,” Abby called into the night. “Mallory!”
Olivia stopped when she reached the edge of the ravine and stood like a pointer with her tail sticking straight out behind her and her right paw up in the air.
“Abby!” a pained voice came back to her in a loud whisper. “Get help.”
Abby dropped to her knees at the edge of the ravine. “Where are you, Mallory? I can’t see you.”
“Shh! I’m okay. Go get help.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not leaving you.”
“Carol chased me out here. She has a gun, Abby.”
Olivia gave up her stance and barked.
“Go, Abby. Now. Carol can’t get to me here. You’re the one in danger. Run back to the house. Get help, then come back for me.”
“Such sisterly concern,” Carol said.
Abby turned her head sideways and saw Carol standing just a few feet away, a gun pointed directly at her. Fear, stark and wild, shot through her as she struggled to get to her feet, only to have Carol kick her in the side. Abby rolled sideways and felt herself slide over the edge of the ravine. Frantic, she grasped for anything that would break her fall and caught hold of a protruding tree root.
“Abby?” Mallory called, her voice panicked. “Abby, are you all right?”
It took Abby a moment to catch her breath. “I’m okay,” she answered in a breathy whisper.
Abby glanced up and saw Carol’s silhouette hovering near the edge. She knew if she stayed where she was, Carol would be able to pick her off without any trouble at all. Mustering her courage, she swung around and let herself slide down the brush- and rock-crusted slope to the bottom. She landed with a bone-jarring thump that knocked the wind right out of her. Long moments passed while she tried to regain her breath. Once it came, she picked herself up and stumbled along the bottom until she was just below Mallory.
“Let go, Mallory, and slide down like I did.”
“No. I’m afraid.”
“Do it, Mallory! I’m here to catch you.”
Mallory released the tree branch she’d been holding on to and slid down the rocky embankment. “Ow,” she groaned, landing on her rear end.
“C’mon,” Abby said, pulling her sister to her. “Let’s get out of here. You can worry about your aches and pains later.”
Beemer’s bark echoed through the night. Olivia answered back with a bark of her own.
“Shut up, you stupid dog!” Carol raised her arm to strike the dog. Olivia growled, then lunged forward and sank her fangs into Carol’s calf. “You goddamn …” Olivia let loose and ran toward the sound of Beemer’s frenzied barking.
“Carol?” Donovan called.
Hearing her name in the distance, Carol ran into a stand of trees.
Abby wasn’t sure where Carol was. Her only thought was to get as far away from her as they could. Though she’d never been down in the ravine before, she knew it curved around and crossed the road in front of her house. If she and Mallory could make it there before Carol caught up with them, they might have a chance.
“Hurry, Mallory,” Abby urged.
“I can’t go any faster in these shoes,” she said, lifting her foot for Abby to see.
“Okay, okay, just do the best you can and get rid of the damn shoes!”
Abby’s lungs were on fire by the time they climbed up out of the ravine to the road. She bent over, put her hands on her skinned knees, and gulped air.
Mallory reached the top a moment after Abby and held on to her sister for dear life. “If we live through this, we’re going to start jogging. We are seriously out of condition,” she gasped.
Abby straightened and looked around. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the house. “We’re almost home free,” she said.
“That’s what you think,” Carol said, appearing from out of nowhere, waving her gun threateningly. “Stand back, Abby,” Carol ordered. “I want the satisfaction of killing Mallory first.”
Abby clung to Mallory. “You’ll have to shoot us both, Carol, because I love my sister, and I’m not going to let you hurt her. You’ll never hurt her again. You’re sick, and you need help.”
“Why?” Carol screamed. “Why do you love her? She doesn’t love you. She never did. She’s a hateful, evil girl. Can’t you see that?” She laughed then, an eerie, demented laugh. “All I ever wanted in the whole world was Donovan. Just Donovan. But there were always people standing between us. First, your harlot of a mother. Did you know she had an affair with Donovan the whole time she was married to John? How she loved to flaunt it in my face. And how she loved to flaunt her love child … you, Mallory … in my face. It was such a pleasure to watch her die.
“Then there was John. Poor, foolish man. I can’t believe he put up with Harriet all those years. He really deserved better. You understand, don’t you, why I had to kill him? He and Donovan were such good friends that Donovan didn’t need anyone else as long as he had John. I wanted Donovan to realize he needed me.”
“So you killed our parents,” Abby ventured, “knowing Donovan would assume the responsibility for us and that he would need you to help raise us?”
“I couldn’t have children of my own, and I foolishly thought I could make you mine.”
“I loved you, Carol. I loved you like a mother.”
“If you loved me, why did you want to leave me? Why did you want to live your life away from me?”
Tears welled in Abby’s eyes as she began to understand Carol’s motives. Really understand.
“Carol! Stop!” Donovan shouted as he wove his way through the azalea bushes off to Abby’s left. Steve was with him, Beemer on a leash at his side, Olivia on her own tagging behind. “Listen to me, Carol. Whatever’s wrong I’ll fix it. We’ll go away, just you and me. It’ll be like a honeymoon. We’ll go to Paris, London, wherever you want. Please, just put the gun down.” He kept walking, his step and his purpose confident as he headed for Abby and Mallory.
“Get out of here, Donovan. Don’t make me kill you, too.”
He kept walking. “Do what you have to do, Carol, but I’m not going to let you hurt my girls. I’ve made enough mistakes in my life where they’re concerned, and I’ll be goddamned if I’m going to make any more.”
Carol fired off a shot. The bullet went high and wide. Realizing she’d missed, she fired again just as Donovan made a grab for Abby and Mallory.
“Go, Beemer!” Steve shouted simultaneously, sending the ex-K-9 into action. Beemer bolted forward, took a high, running jump, and knocked Carol to the ground. The gun flew out of her hand to land near Steve’s feet. Steve grabbed the gun and ran for Abby.
“I’ve got them, Steve. They’re both just fine,” Donovan said, holding Abby and Mallory close to him, crushing them against his chest.
When the foursome turned around, they saw Beemer standing over Carol, his teeth bared. Olivia, panting from her exertions, waddled up beside Beemer, hoiste
d herself up onto Carol’s chest, and sat down. Beemer licked at one of her long floppy ears as much as to say, good girl.
“I told you Olivia was a scrapper.” Steve grinned.
Donovan called the police on his cell phone. They arrived in less than five minutes—one car, no sirens as per Donovan’s instructions. After a brief explanation, Donovan slid into the police car next to Carol, who stared straight ahead of her.
EPILOGUE
Two hours later, Donovan returned to Abby’s house just as the party was breaking up. Nothing in the comments of the departing guests indicated they knew anything about what had happened. He wasn’t quite sure how Abby and Mallory had pulled it off, but he was grateful to them for their discretion.
At his questioning look, Mallory said, “We managed to sneak in through the back bedroom, cleaned up, and changed our clothes. We blamed the dog’s hole-digging for our change of attire, and no one was the wiser. It worked.”
The minute the door closed on the last guest, Donovan joined them in the living room. Mallory was trying to explain to Bobby what had happened, and he was shaking his head in disbelief. He reached out to Donovan, who wrapped his arms around the boy’s shaking shoulders.
“I have a confession to make,” Donovan said, sitting down in the closest chair. “I’ve known about Carol for some time now, but I didn’t have enough evidence to take to the police.”
“You knew? How?” Abby asked, incredulous.
“Mrs. Lascaris alerted me. Seeing Carol at the dedication ceremony for the retirement village gave her quite a shock. Afterward, when I asked her what was wrong, she told me she’d always suspected Carol of killing John and Harriet. She said the day they died, Carol was at their house before she took me to the airport. Apparently she parked around the corner and went in the back door. She said she’d seen Carol go over there several times and had peeked in the window once and saw Carol and Harriet having tea. The houses were so close together she could see everything. I couldn’t imagine Carol doing that. She hated Harriet with a passion. Anyway, it started me thinking, and I found myself asking some hard questions. Unfortunately, none of those questions had any answers.”
Mallory rolled her eyes. “We know how that goes, don’t we, Abby?”
“One of the questions I asked myself,” Donovan continued, “was if you two could possibly be on to something. So I tracked down Connor’s family, flew to Oregon, and asked them to exhume Connor’s body and do an autopsy. Dennis, Connor’s brother, told me you’d already asked him, Abby, but that he didn’t take you seriously … you being a mystery writer and all. I told the doctor I suspected murder and asked that he cover all the bases. He determined that the cause of death was poison, specifically oleander. I thought about all the oleander bushes we have all over our yard, thought about Carol’s knowledge of plants and herbs and tea, and remembered her having me give Connor a bag with coffee and Danish in it when he left for the airport.”
Steve put his arms around Abby and held her.
“I called Mrs. Lascaris right away,” he added, “and she told me Carol had called and invited herself over for tea. Mrs. Lascaris was another one Carol hated with a passion. She said she was nothing but an old busybody. I put two and two together and decided Carol must have realized Mrs. Lascaris suspected her of murdering John and Harriet and was planning on killing her now, too, to keep her quiet.”
“And so she did,” Abby said, disheartened.
“No, she didn’t,” Donovan said. “But she thought she did. Did you know Mrs. Lascaris used to be an actress? She did community theater.” Abby and Mallory looked at each other. “I talked her into doing one more role, to play the part of a woman dying of poisoned tea. She said death scenes were her specialty.” Donovan grimaced.
“Why did you bring Carol to the party?” Steve asked. Beemer was sitting beside him and Steve was petting him.
“Carol had been real edgy about what she thought was going to happen here tonight. She was also angry that Bobby was invited and we weren’t. I thought she might do something to try and stop Abby and Mallory from telling what Proof Positive was really about.”
“We let you think that, Donovan,” Mallory said, “because we originally thought it might flush you out into the open. By the time we began to think it was Carol, after reading our mother’s diaries, well, it seemed best to continue and hope Carol would make a mistake.”
“Well, there you go. We were both trying to accomplish the same thing, and we both failed. So much for well-laid plans.” He sat forward, hands on thighs. “I badly underestimated Carol. As I said, I figured her to try something, but I never dreamed she’d go after you with a gun. Christ, I didn’t even know she had a gun. And not only did she have a gun, but a silencer, too.” He shook his head and called himself seven times a fool. “I only let her out of my sight for five minutes … to talk to you, Mallory, and the next thing I knew she was gone. Anyway, this is all my fault, and I just want you to know how sorry I am for putting your lives at risk.
“I think I’ll take my son home. We need each other right now.” When he stood to leave, Mallory reached for his arm.
“She had to be stopped, Donovan.”
“Yes, but there might have been a better way.”
“Maybe yes and maybe no. The point is, you did stop her, and you risked your life to save ours.”
“Where’s Mrs. Lascaris?” Abby asked.
“At the moment, I believe she’s enjoying the comforts of a first-rate Charleston hotel.”
Abby looked at Donovan over the rim of her coffee cup. “Did Carol kill Dr. Oldmeyer, too?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted.
“We’ll probably never know,” Mallory said, squeezing her arms against her chest. “There’s already been one autopsy. Her daughter will never agree to another.”
“As for Carol,” Donovan said, “I don’t know what will happen. She’s a sick woman. Being confined, locked up, is not going to be easy for her.”
Abby looked up at Steve, who was sitting on the arm of the couch. “I can’t imagine Carol in prison.”
Donovan shook his head. “She won’t go to prison. As much as I despise her for what she’s done, there’s a part of me that will always love her. I’m going to pull some strings, some really big strings, and bypass the court system if I can and have her committed to Argone for the rest of her natural life.”
Mallory gasped and clapped her hand over her mouth. She wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. Ultimately, she could do nothing but stare at the coffee in her cup and thank God she wasn’t the one going to Argone.
“Sum it up for us, Donovan, so we can sleep tonight,” Abby said, pulling Olivia into her lap.
“I don’t know if we’ll ever know what was going on in Carol’s mind, but I would guess that it all had to do with obsessive love.” This time when Donovan got up to leave no one stopped him. “Come on, Bobby, let’s go home. Oh, and Abby, I wish you the best on your engagement. I assume Steve is the lucky man.”
They followed him to the door and waved good-bye. As Donovan started down the driveway, Mallory and Abby looked at each other, nodded simultaneously, and ran to him. “Hey, Dad, wait for us!” they shouted in unison.
Donovan turned, a look of disbelief on his face before he held out his arms to scoop them up and twirl them around until they were dizzy.
“What a great family,” Bobby said, his eyes moist.
“The best,” Donovan said.
“The best of the best,” Mallory said.
“Better than that, almost perfect,” Abby said.
Olivia waddled up to Abby, snorted, and sat down on her foot. Beemer cuffed her on the neck as he took up his position on Abby’s other foot.
“We’re a package deal,” Abby chortled.
“Can I join in?” Steve asked hopefully.
“Damn right,” Donovan said. “There’s always room for one more.”
Don’t miss Fern Michaels’s wonderfully fresh and enter
taining new novel,
Mr. and Miss Anonymous,
a Kensington hardcover on sale in May 2009.
Read on for a special preview.
PROLOGUE
University of California,
Berkeley Campus, 1986
Peter Aaron Kelly stared out of his grungy apartment window not caring that he was running late. His roommates had gone home for the Christmas holiday, so he had the sparsely furnished apartment to himself. Maybe he should just blow off his appointment at the clinic and go straight to his job at the café where he worked as a waiter for the three-hour lunch period. But he needed the last payment from the clinic. Needed it desperately to pay the final installment on his tuition for his last semester. In the end, what the hell difference did it make one way or the other? He shrugged his shoulders, reached for his windbreaker and baseball cap.
Thirty-five minutes later, Pak, as he was known to his friends, entered the Apex Clinic thirteen minutes late. The unlucky number didn’t go unnoticed by him. For one crazy moment he wanted to bolt, but the last reminder from the billing office told him he had no other choice. He signed in using his donor number 8446. As he sat down he turned his baseball cap around so the bill could tickle his neck and he picked up a magazine. Like he was really going to read Field & Stream.
His eyes glued to the glossy magazine cover, he didn’t look up when a steady stream of guys paraded past him, some leaving, some entering. He’d done this gig eleven times. Everyone entered and exited this place with eyes downcast just the way he did. No one spoke, no one made eye contact. All they wanted was to get the hell out of there so they could try to exorcise their personal shame and spend the guilt money. He should know because he was one of them. He took a moment to wonder how many of the donors walking through the clinic’s doors went to the counseling sessions that were so strongly recommended each time a donor signed a contract. He took another moment to wonder who owned the place. Probably some very rich person. More guilt piled up on his shoulders as he waited patiently for his number to be called.
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