An Equation For Murder

by Jayne Nichols

  Lillian was suddenly afraid she knew what, or rather who, had been the subject matter of their conversation. “Was I the topic?”

  Sam nodded. “He’s had a hard time accepting the divorce. He wanted to know if I was going to ask you to marry me.” His sudden smile allowed Lillian to let out her quiet intake of breath. “He’s a pretty savvy kid. He told me you and I looked happy together, and that I’d better make sure you loved me before I asked you.” He fought the moisture that flooded his eyes. “You see, he didn’t want me to look like a jerk if you said no.”

  “Are you saying he approves of our getting married?” Did she dare tell him how much she hoped that was true? Wished that one day Amanda would be happy for her and sanction her love for Sam?

  Sam’s frown was more thoughtful than angry. “More like he doesn’t disapprove.”

  “Well, that’s a start.” Her back to Sam, Lillian tried to put Joey into the crib, but he would have none of it. “We’ve never talked about that part of this relationship.” Her stomach in a knot, she turned around slowly, the baby clutching at the locket around her neck. “I can’t give you any children, Sam. I’m long past that ability.”

  “I knew that before I asked you to marry me. I love you, and besides…” Sam brushed his fingers along Joey’s cheek. “I think we’ll have plenty of kids to steal our hearts.”

  Sam had certainly stolen hers, and now it soared, unfettered by the last reservation she’d had to their union. While he had always maintained that her age was irrelevant to him, she hadn’t been brave enough to approach the subject of children with him. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” No hesitation. No uncertainty in his voice. Only his smile of assurance. He rescued the locket from the baby’s grip, then stared at it quietly, his thumb toying with the clasp. “Speaking of hearts… I’ve noticed that when you’re nervous or anxious, you tend to reach for this.”

  “I find it comforting,” she whispered.

  For the first time since she had literally fallen into Sam’s arms, the self-confidence he had always displayed completely disappeared, replaced by what she thought was apprehension. Or, perhaps a little fear.

  “I know I have no right to ask…” Sam raised his gaze slowly to her face, cleared his throat and licked his lips. “But I… I need to know what’s in the locket, Lilly.”

  “Memories.” Lillian settled Joey in his crib, then turned around to face Sam. Silently, she removed the chain from around her neck, placed it in his hand and wrapped his fingers around it. “I want to make new memories, Sam. And I want to make them with you.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Sam wasn’t sure if he felt foolish or relieved as he tiptoed down the stairs in his stocking feet at 5:00 a.m. To think he had been jealous of a dead man, when all the locket had contained were the baby pictures of her two children. He’d wanted to sink into the carpet, sick with the same humiliation he’d felt after embarrassing her on their first day in class. But Lillian, being Lillian, had saved him from shame, and he would always remember the reason why she had worn the locket and why she’d given it to him.

  You have set me free, Sam, and without fear or favor, I give you my whole heart.

  Sam sat down on the bottom step to put on his shoes, smiling as he considered the odd term she had used. Without fear or favor. First used by Adolph S. Ochs on April 18, 1896, who after assuming control of The New York Times, stated in part that his goal was “to give the news impartially, without fear or favor, regardless of party, sect, or interests involved…” By using the phrase, Sam assumed Lillian meant Amanda. He didn’t want to come between them, but he didn’t want to lose Lillian either, because, in all honesty, he felt exactly the same.

  You have set me free, Lillian, and without fear or favor, I give you my whole heart.

  Ben had only partially accepted Lillian’s presence in Sam’s life. But if his son truly wanted to live with them, a situation he had yet to discuss with Lillian, Ben would have to relinquish his misguided hope that his father and mother would ever remarry. With that uneasy thought in his mind, Sam opened the door into the garage. He nearly pressed the opener on the wall beside the door before realizing the noise from the motor would wake Lillian. Instead, he turned on just the light, then walked the length of the garage, grasped the tow rope attached to the motor housing overhead, and opened the garage door manually.

  A burley figure darted beneath the garage door, then dragged it shut behind him. “Thank you, my friend. I wasn’t sure how I was going to get inside.”

  Heart in his throat, Sam stared at the gun in the man’s hand, then slowly upward to the intruder’s shadowed face. “I suppose you could’ve rung the doorbell.”

  “Yes, but I don’t think you would have let me in. This is much easier. Hands up.”

  Sam swallowed carefully and raised his hands. “Well, since you’re here, how about you take your finger off the trigger?”

  The man glanced down at the gun in his hand, then shrugged and smiled. “How about you turn around, and I follow you into the house?”

  Though Sam had confronted his share of unruly students bent on causing trouble, he had never before faced someone with a gun. Someone this young who talked tough, but whose gun hand trembled. “Whatever it is you want, I’ll give it to you.”

  “Yes, you will. I like your Harley. Bet it rides real nice.”

  “If you want the bike, you can have it. The keys are in my pocket.”

  “Another time, maybe,” the intruder said. “Now lead the way, nice and slow, and don’t try anything funny. I don’t want to have to shoot you, but I will if you don’t do as I say.”

  Sam turned around and opened the door, his thoughts rushing up the stairs to Lillian and how he would protect her. Could he get to his cell phone and dial 9-1-1, or would the man shoot him as promised? Then what would happen to Lillian and the baby?

  The intruder shoved him toward the living room, turned on a table light, and whistled softly. “Nice place, your lady friend has. She any good in bed?”

  Sam whirled around. “You leave her alone.”

  “That depends on you.” The man pointed the gun in Sam’s face. “Turn around and kneel down on the floor, hands behind your back. Lace your fingers. Make one move, I’ll shoot you.”

  Sam believed him, could see deep, angry scars on the man’s cheek. “What do you want?”

  “You’ll see. Now shut up and get down on your knees.”

  Mouth dry, Sam turned his back to the man and knelt on the carpet, expecting a bullet in the back of his head at any moment. Never in his life had he been so scared. For himself. For Lillian. What did this crazy person want? Though the man sounded tough and experienced, Sam sensed an undercurrent of anxiety and immaturity. Someone who might shoot by accident if not obeyed. Could he actually feel the coldness of the gun aimed between his shoulder blades?

  Or was that just the intense pounding of his heart?

  “Don’t say nothing, you got that?”

  Sam heard the man shuffle toward the staircase. Vowed to take his chances with the gun if the guy so much as put his foot on the first step. But he heard only silence behind him. Waited. His arms ached. Cold sweat trickled from his armpits down his sides. He shivered. What the hell was the man doing? He sensed movement close behind him, then the sudden onslaught of mariachi music soared through the room, and footsteps on the run echoed in the upstairs hallway.

  “Hey, lady!” the man yelled. “Come out right now, or I’m gonna kill your boyfriend.”

  When Lillian appeared at the top of the stairs, Sam yelled, “Run!”

  The man grabbed a handful of Sam’s hair, shoved the cold barrel of the gun against his neck. “Stay right where you are, because if you don’t do as I say, I’m going to shoot lover-boy here.”

  Even from this distance, Sam could see terror widen Lillian’s eyes. Hear her voice remain calm in spite of it. “What is it you want?” she asked.

  “Put my son in his carrier and bring him
down here to me.”

  “You’re his father?”

  “Don’t ask questions! Dammit, do as you’re told!” The man pressed harder on the gun at Sam’s neck. “Tell her.”

  From the corner of his eye, Sam could see the man’s finger quiver on the trigger. “Get the baby, Lillian.”

  Sam waited on his knees, the gun digging into the bone behind his right ear. He had rarely thought about dying, something that seemed far into the future, but even then he figured it would be of old age. Not a bullet from a madman’s gun. What if this man pulled the trigger his finger trembled against? He would never see Ben again. Never marry Lillian. Oh, God, he didn’t want to die. Not like this. He heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Lillian with the baby. What would this man do to her?

  Think, Sam. You have to do something.

  “Stop where you are, Lillian. Put the carrier on that end table, then sit down on the floor against the couch.” He leaned close to Sam’s ear. “I want you to lie on the floor, face down, hands behind your back. You move so much as a muscle, I’ll shoot Lillian here. Got that?”

  Sam nodded. He glanced quickly at Lillian. She sat huddled against the end of the couch, her robe held closed with trembling hands. He smiled with what he hoped was reassurance, then lay flat out on the floor as directed, his face turned so he could keep watch. The man bent down to kiss the baby’s head, then inspected one end of the carrier carefully. When their trespasser seemed satisfied, he turned toward Lillian.

  “Thank you for taking such good care of José.”

  “He was no trouble.”

  The baby’s father stood, smiled proudly. “He never is.”

  “If you have what you came for, I would appreciate it if you would leave now.”

  The man chuckled. “Soon. There is something else I need you to do for me.”

  Sam tensed. Gun or no gun, he would not let this man hurt Lillian. He watched the man saunter toward him, point the gun at his head.

  Lillian stood slowly. “Please don’t hurt him. I’ll do whatever you want.”

  “Lillian…”

  The man leaned down beside Sam, pressed the gun to his temple. “Good. You will drive José and me to Mexico in your nice BMW.”

  “No!” Sam lashed out, reared to his knees. Felt the barrel of the gun slam hard against his right temple. Once. Twice. Lights flashed. Fireworks exploded in his head. Bells clanged in his ears. He tumbled to the floor. Something wet and warm dribbled along his cheek. In the distance he heard a woman’s scream. Then nothing.

  * * *

  “Get dressed, Lillian.” The man pointed the gun at Sam who lay prone on the floor. “If you take more than five minutes, I will kill him.”

  The man had refused to allow her to tend to Sam, and as Lillian hurried for the stairs, she glanced back at Sam’s face, all bloody and torn. He wasn’t dead. She could see the shallow in-and-out movement of his ribs. Her left hand trembled. The engagement ring tapped against the wooden banister. How could this be happening? She hesitated. “Can’t I…”

  “Four.”

  “Please, I need a little more time. Joey…” When he frowned, she stopped, cleared her throat. “You’ll want some things for José. Food. Clothes. Medicine. He has a little cold.”

  “All right, but be quick about it.”

  With one last glance at Sam, she hurried up the stairs, thinking she could call the police from her bedroom. It wasn’t until she reached the top step that she discovered he had picked up the carrier and followed her. “Your boyfriend isn’t going anywhere,” he said, “and I wouldn’t want you to do something stupid.”

  Lillian’s heart raced. “And kidnapping me isn’t? People will come looking for me.”

  “Then you had better hurry up. Once we’re across the border, I’ll let you go.”

  “I don’t believe you.” Yet, part of her hoped he meant it.

  The man turned, took aim at Sam lying unconscious on the floor. “I’m a man of my word.”

  Lillian grabbed her jeans, a sweater, a light-weight jacket and her shoes and waited while the man checked out the bathroom before allowing her inside alone. She dressed quickly, all the while thinking there had to be something she could do to escape. What if he was telling the truth? Would he really let her go? Or let Sam live? They had seen his face, could identify him. She opened the medicine cabinet. Reached for the baby’s decongestant. Her hand brushed the bottle of sleeping pills the doctor had prescribed to help her cope with Rusty’s death. To appease Amanda, she had taken one. Out of the prescription for twenty, nineteen remained. She slipped the plastic container into her jacket pocket.

  “May I take my purse?” When he hesitated, she hurried on. “I assume you want me to drive. I’ll need my license.”

  She gave him the tan leather handbag. He dumped the contents on the bed and after riffling through them, indicated she could reclaim her belongings. Her back to him, she slipped the pill container from her pocket into her purse. Then the man followed her into the nursery, watched silently while she filled the diaper bag with the baby’s clothes, diapers, and several toys to keep him occupied on the trip. Handing her the carrier, he escorted them down the stairs.

  At the bottom, she stopped abruptly, gazed at the man she loved still unconscious on her living room floor. “Sam…”

  Lillian started toward him, but the man caught hold of her arm and shook his head. His gun on her, he circled Sam’s body, then crouched down beside him. “He’s still breathing.” While she watched, he searched through Sam’s pockets, smiled when he discovered the iPhone. “Always wanted one of these.”

  “So, now you’re a petty thief on top of everything else?”

  “Careful, lady. The last woman who back-mouthed me is dead.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Sam couldn’t tell if the pounding he heard was in his head or at the front door. Decided it was both as he managed to get to his hands and knees. “Just a minute,” he called. The knocking at the door ceased.

  “Mother?” A key jiggled in the lock, then the door shoved open. “What on earth…”

  Sam cringed. Felt a sharp throbbing in his right temple. He tried to rise, then fell back to the floor when the attempt failed. Touching the side of his head, he drew his fingers away and stared at the blood.

  Amanda stood beside him, hands on her hips. “What’s happened? Where’s my mother?”

  Sam fought the dizziness to clear his head. “He took her.”

  “Who, dammit? Who took her?”

  “The baby’s father. He broke in as I was leaving…” Sam rolled to his back. Fought the bile that rose into his throat. If his head would just stop hammering so he could think. “What time is it?”

  Amanda looked toward the clock on the mantle. “Eight forty-five.”

  “Shit. Then they’ve been gone over three hours. Help me get up.” Sam grasped Amanda’s offered hand and managed to pull himself to a sitting position.

  “Stay right there.” She hurried into the downstairs half bath, yanked both hand towels from the bar. After wetting them with cold water, she handed one to Sam. “You’re white as a sheet. Put your knees up before you pass out.”

  Sam pressed the towel against his temple. Winced. Then lowered his head to rest on his knees when his stomach surged. “Damn, that son of a bitch hit me hard.”

  “You probably have a concussion,” Amanda stated, scowling as she took the bloody towel from his hand and replaced it with the clean one. “I should call an ambulance.”

  “No time for that. We need to call the police. I have to go after them.”

  Amanda rummaged through her purse, then pulled out her cell phone and offered it to him. “I doubt you can even stand up,” she hissed.

  “Give me a minute.”

  Sam wasn’t all that sure another minute would be enough. His head ached something fierce, and he didn’t know whether his legs would hold him, even if he could stand. He cleared his throat, swallowed, and took several shallow bre
aths, then reached for her phone. If Lillian was indeed driving the intruder across the border, they had a huge head start. All the local police would be able to do was notify the Mexican authorities. Mexico was a big country. He had no idea where they might be headed. Unless… Sam patted his right jacket pocket for his iPhone, knew it had been there when he’d entered the garage. Nothing. His cell phone was definitely missing. Had the man taken it? If so, he might be traceable after all.

  “Help me up.”

  “You’re not going anywhere until you tell me what happened.”

  “You can listen while I explain it to the police.” He pressed the “ON” button on her cell phone. Nothing. Gazing up at her, he sighed and shook his head gently. “Like mother, like daughter, it seems.”

  “I was in a hurry. I guess I forgot to charge it.”

  “If you’ll give me your hand, I’ll use the one in the kitchen.”

  “You certainly know you’re way around my mother’s house.”

  Sam ignored the sarcasm-laced words and took hold of Amanda’s hand. All he required from her was that she remain balanced to give him a chance to stand. “Thank you.” On his feet, he headed for the kitchen, the replay of their sexual interlude on the floor hitting him full force when he entered the room. While he spoke with a 9-1-1 operator, he watched Amanda stroll over to the whiteboard, her mouth tightening when she read the equation.

  “How cute,” she said finally.

  Sam closed his eyes. This was not how he wanted Lillian’s daughter to find out about her mother’s relationship with him. “I know you don’t approve of me, Amanda, but I love your mother. Last night she agreed to become my wife, and I’m going to Mexico to get her back.”

  * * *

  “See, I told you we’d get through the border no sweat. You did good, Lillian. Even had me convinced we were just going to show José to his other grandmother.”