by Kara Lennox
“David has been lying. Patti and Sara were here the day she died. Beronica saw them here, but no one thought to question her. Those toy keys do belong to Sara. And Wayne just told me some things about David and his…lust for money. I don’t want to believe it, but…”
“David only gave Cory thirteen thousand dollars.”
“The exact amount Patti owed Cory.”
“David had leverage. Because he knew Cory murdered Patti.”
“And he kept the rest of the million dollars. That’s probably what he’s doing today—replacing the money he stole from the law firm. And he must be the one who shot at me. His fingerprints wouldn’t be on the AFIS computer.”
They heard a noise, and both of them turned to see what it was. David was lounging in the doorway that led from the foyer to the kitchen. And he held a gun pointed at them. Not the little .22 she’d seen him use at other times, but a big semi-automatic.
“Very clever, cousin,” he said with a smug smile. “You’re absolutely right.”
Chapter Fifteen
Show no fear. Beau repeated that phrase like a mantra, because he knew David Clarendon wanted to see them cower. He knew this because he knew David. He remembered the child with the cruel streak who put a lot of his energy into teasing pets and neighborhood kids and his younger sister.
Hell, he should have seen this coming. He should have known David was involved. The police dismissed him as a suspect so easily. But when a suspicious death occurred in any family with money, chances were a family member was involved.
“David, put that gun away!” Aubrey blustered, using her schoolteacher voice.
But he made no move to lower the gun. “You two have put me in a very awkward position. I didn’t kill anyone. That stupid drug dealer was supposed to scare Patti, rough her up a bit. Get her arrested. Get her in trouble with the child-welfare people.”
“So you could take Sara away from her,” Aubrey concluded.
“So I could get what’s rightfully mine!” David’s face twisted with emotion. “I’m the one who stuck by Dad’s side. I got the good grades, I followed in his footsteps. I never set one foot out of line, never got in trouble. I supported him one hundred percent at the firm. I sat second chair on the high-profile cases, doing all the work while he got all the glory.”
Just keep talking, Beau thought, one by one going through his options, though he didn’t have many. His own gun was at the small of his back. He started inching his hand toward it, knowing any sudden move he made could get Aubrey killed.
“When Dad got sick, I was the one who listened to him cry like a baby. I sat with him through—” Suddenly David’s gaze zeroed in on Beau. “You reach for that gun and you’ll be sorry! Put your hands on top of your head. Now!”
Beau complied, silently cursing. If David had any expertise with guns, he would take Beau’s gun away. But he wasn’t accustomed to holding a weapon or shooting it. He looked clumsy with it. Which only made him more dangerous.
“I sat with Dad through chemo,” David continued, addressing his comments to Aubrey. “I held his head when he couldn’t keep his food down.”
“And you did this for love?” Aubrey asked skeptically. “Or for profit?”
“I loved my father,” David said, as if he thought he should get a medal. “Until he stabbed me in the back.”
“By cutting you out of the will.”
“There was no reason for it! What did I do? I didn’t run away from home or get addicted to drugs or litter the town with bastard children.”
“No, you just embezzled from the firm. And ordered your sister’s death.”
“I didn’t do that!” David insisted. “Killing Patti and taking Sara was all Cory’s idea. He was the one who shot at you, too. He said you made him nervous. He went completely over the edge.”
“But you made it work in your favor, didn’t you,” Aubrey taunted.
“It all would have worked out fine if you hadn’t gotten so damn nosy about my business. I would have been happy with almost a million in cash.”
“No, you wouldn’t. You were already challenging me for Sara’s custody. No amount of money would have satisfied you.”
Good girl, Beau thought as he tried a different tack, gradually putting distance between himself and Aubrey. The farther apart they stood, the harder it would be for David to keep an eye on both of them. And as he moved, inch by inch, away from Aubrey, he moved closer to David. He would rush David if he had to, chance the gunshot wound. David wouldn’t have time to aim properly. If Beau was lucky, the shot would go wild.
“I think I know why Uncle Wayne changed his will,” Aubrey said. “He just looked into your eyes and knew he’d been mistaken. You were the bad seed, not Patti.”
“So what now?” Beau asked, breaking his silence. He didn’t want Aubrey to go too far and provoke her cousin to an anger he couldn’t control.
David jumped and swung the gun toward Beau. “Hey. What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m coming over to take that gun away from you,” Beau said, trying to inject as much confidence into his voice as he could. “You haven’t killed anyone yet. Do you think you’ll get away with it? How are you going to explain two people shot in the foyer of your father’s house? For embezzling and extortion, you’re good for maybe twenty or thirty years. Time off for good behavior, maybe out in ten or fifteen. If you murder someone, you’ll get caught. I’ve already talked to the police about you. No matter what you set up—murder-suicide, or a story about Cory’s friends exacting revenge—you’ll be suspect number one. They’ll find the gunpowder residue on your hands. You’ll end up on death row.”
Beau’s speech was not having the desired effect. Doubt was supposed to be flickering in David’s eyes right about now. His gun hand was supposed to be wavering. Instead, he wore a chilling little smile.
As Beau continued to creep closer to David, David did some maneuvering of his own, toward the front door.
Beau considered telling him not to bother running. Craig was already on his way with a cadre of uniformed officers ready to move in and make the arrest. But he decided it would be better if David did think running was his best option. Certainly preferable to a double murder.
Close to the door now, David reached up and plucked the dead bolt key from its hook and gripped it in his free hand.
“I’m not quite as stupid as you think,” he said with a wink as he let himself out. The door slammed, and the lock snicked into place.
And just like that, it was over.
Beau rushed to Aubrey and they flung themselves into each other’s arms. She was trembling with the aftereffects of fear and relief.
“Oh, my God, Beau, I thought he was going to kill us.”
“I did, too. You did great, keeping him talking.”
She laughed almost hysterically. “I don’t even know what I was saying. I think I sounded like some character in a melodrama.” She glanced nervously toward the door. “Do you think he’s really gone?”
They both heard the start of a car engine—David’s Porsche, from the roar of it.
“Sounds like it.” Beau peeked out the peephole. He could see the red car sitting in the driveway, top down. David sat there, not moving, staring at the house. “Don’t you dare change your mind, you bastard.” Beau grabbed one of the delicate antique chairs that stood against the foyer wall and jammed it up under the double doorknobs. It might at least slow him down.
“We should call the police,” Aubrey said.
“Craig’s already on his way—he should be here by now.”
“Let’s call him anyway, tell him to hurry. After all this, I don’t want David to get away.”
“Okay.” Beau kissed her on the forehead before heading into the living room. He wanted to tell her he loved her. He wanted to let her know how terrified he’d been when he realized she was in danger, and how devastated he would have been if he’d lost her. How protecting her and Sara was the only thing that kept him fro
m running after David and chasing him down himself.
But this time, he was going to leave the police work to the cops. He wasn’t going to end up shooting another of Aubrey’s relatives, no matter what he’d done.
Aubrey followed him to the phone in the living room. He reached for it, then paused. Something was bothering him.
“Beau? I smell gas.”
That’s what it was. The front door. There wasn’t a logical reason for David to take the time to lock the door behind himself. And he’d made a point of taking the key.
“He didn’t have to shoot us,” Beau said as the horror sank in. “He’s gassing us. Probably overheard us, then turned on the gas before he confronted us. After the close call you had the other night, no one will suspect it’s anything other than an accident. Is the shutoff outside?”
“Yes. Oh, Beau, we’re locked in!”
He reached for the phone, but Aubrey grabbed his hand before he could lift the receiver. “No! Methane is very explosive. Pick up the phone or turn on a light, and the electrical connection could ignite the gas and blow up the whole house! We should open the windows. Slowly, though. The sudden influx of oxygen could cause an explosion, too.”
They each ran to a living-room window, but opening them helped very little. The outside shutters were closed and latched, and the burglar bars insured they could not escape that way.
“It’s no use,” Aubrey said. “All the windows on the first two floors are barred and most of them shuttered. We need to get out of here. And—oh, my God, we have to get Uncle Wayne and Sara out!”
“The back door—”
“—has a double-keyed dead bolt, too, and you can bet David locked it.” The smell of gas was very strong now, and Aubrey wavered a bit on her feet. “We have to go up. The mixture of gases they use in this area has a lot of propane in the mix, so it tends to sink. It’ll be strongest down here.” She was already heading for the stairs. “We’ll get Sara and Uncle Wayne and go up to the servants’ quarters on the third floor. Beronica’s not there, but she has a private entrance and fire escape.”
“Good,” Beau said, starting to feel a little woozy himself as he followed Aubrey up the stairs. “Good thinking.”
When they entered Wayne’s room, he was sitting up in bed, but he looked as if he’d nodded off. Both he and the baby appeared to be asleep.
“Oh, God, no!” Aubrey cried. “They’re both smaller and weaker than us. Maybe the gas—” But Sara woke up the moment Aubrey picked her up. “Oh, thank God, oh, baby, you’re all right. Uncle Wayne! Wake up!”
The old man stirred groggily. “Hmm?” His bleary eyes appeared unfocused.
“Uncle Wayne, we have to get out of the house. It’s filled with natural gas.”
“Wha—gas?”
Aubrey yanked his covers back and attempted to pull him upright, but even in his emaciated condition, his dead weight was too much for her.
“I’ll get him,” Beau said. “Take the baby and go ahead. We’ll be right behind you.”
“But—”
“Go! Get Sara to safety.”
Aubrey’s eyes filled with tears. “Hurry.” Then she turned and ran out the door with the crying baby.
Beau turned his attention to Wayne. “Come on, Wayne, we’ve got to get you out of here.” He threw the old man’s arms over his shoulder and attempted to grasp him in a fireman’s carry.
“No, leave me be!” Wayne objected, fighting the maneuver.
“I won’t do that.”
“I’m dying anyway, you fool. Save Sara and Aubrey. Take care of them.”
Beau ignored the old man’s pleas and hoisted him up over his shoulder. “We can all make it. We just have to go up and out.” He carried Wayne with little effort—the poor man wasn’t much more than a bag of bones.
“Fool,” Wayne muttered, but he ran out of fight.
Beau strode to the stairs and started up them, but Aubrey met him coming down. “The door to the upstairs apartment is locked!”
“I’ll break it down.”
“Solid wood,” Wayne murmured. “Need an ax.”
“You two wait here,” Aubrey said. “Let me check the back staircase.”
She handed Sara to Beau and took off like a bullet, but she returned less than a minute later. “It’s locked, too. We’ll have to…I don’t know! I don’t know how much longer we can last!”
“Wayne,” Aubrey said as Beau set him gently down on the stairs, “are there any windows without bars on this floor?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“Is there a crawl space?” Beau asked, wracking his brain for some other means of escape. “An air-conditioning duct, maybe?” He was grasping at straws, now, but he refused to accept defeat. If he was going out, he would go out fighting.
“The dumbwaiter,” Aubrey said suddenly. “Sara and I can go up in it. Then we can open the door for you two. Come on.”
“I’ll wait here,” Wayne said, almost collapsing against the stairs. “Air’s…fresher…here.”
“Take a few deep breaths,” Beau told Aubrey. He followed his own directions, and they headed downstairs.
“I may not fit in the dumbwaiter,” Aubrey said. “I’m sure I outgrew it a long time ago.”
“You’ll fit if I have to wedge you in with a crow-bar.”
The smell of gas was very strong now. Beau hoped he could hold on long enough to crank the miniature elevator all the way up to the third floor. They ran into the kitchen. In one movement, Beau cleared the dumbwaiter of the mixing bowls stored there, sending them crashing to the tile floor. He picked up Aubrey and set her bottom on the floor of the tiny car, then helped her to fold herself inside. It was a tight fit, even after he yanked her shoes off and she pulled her knees to her chest and folded her feet under her, and ducked her head. Sara did not protest being squashed between Aubrey’s thighs and her rib cage, and Beau did not want to think about what that meant.
He kissed Aubrey quickly on her cheek, which was as close to her mouth as he could get. “See you in a minute. I love you.” And he started cranking the elevator upward.
AUBREY TRIED TO KEEP her claustrophobia at bay as the car rose slowly through the dark shaft, breaking up cobwebs as she went. It was musty from many years of disuse, but she thought the air smelled less of the gas, especially as they rose higher.
“We’re going to make it, baby,” she cooed, more to comfort herself than Sara. “Your uncle Beau loves me. We have to make it through this so we can find out what he intends to do about that.”
The baby’s silence terrified her. Her tiny respiratory system probably couldn’t withstand as much of the deadly methane as an adult’s. Maybe she should have left the baby with Wayne instead of subjecting her—
Aubrey’s thoughts froze. Her speed of ascent was slowing. She’d just passed the door to the second floor, where light bled through the cracks of the long-disused door in Wayne’s bedroom.
The dumbwaiter stopped.
“Beau!” she screamed. “What’s happening?” But she knew. He was being overcome by the gas. “Beau, answer me!”
The car started moving again. With agonizing slowness, it inched its way upward, the progress jerky. She wanted to yell at Beau to give up, to save himself. Maybe he could break through the door to Beronica’s quarters. He could shoot through it with his gun.
Please, she prayed. A couple more feet. Inches left to go.
“That’s it!” she called out. “Stop. Now get the hell out of there!” At first she didn’t know how she was going to open the dumbwaiter door on the third floor. Her hands were pinned at her sides. But she managed to work one hand loose. The door, she recalled, opened easily from the inside. She worked her fingers under the rotting wood and jerked it up. Like everything else about the dumbwaiter, it was stiff from disuse—but thankfully not locked. A couple more heaves, and the door was open far enough that Aubrey could roll out onto the floor.
Ignoring her cramped muscles, she stood quickly, h
ugging the baby to her. The air was definitely fresher up here. She drank in great gulps of it, then listened to see if Sara was breathing. She was—though barely.
No time for CPR. She ran across the small combination living-dining area to the apartment’s main door, turned the dead bolt—not a double-keyed one this time, thank God—and flung open the door.
A wave of methane hit her. Beau was there with Wayne, trying to help him up the stairs. “Beau, thank God you’re all right! I thought—”
She stopped. Wayne was unconscious. And Beau was staggering.
Beau looked up at Aubrey. “Go. We’re right behind you.”
She was torn, wanting to help with Wayne. But Sara was already unconscious.
“Go, damn it!” Beau yelled. “We’ll make it.”
She turned and ran for the fire escape door, off the kitchen.
But when she opened it, she discovered there was no fire escape, as she remembered. This part of the house had apparently been renovated. Now there was just a balcony. She had a view of the driveway where it came around the house to the garage. And David—what was he doing? He’d driven his car around here. Now he sat in it with the top down and he was holding—
The garage door opener. Oh, God. He intended to ignite the house with the press of a button.
Getting to the balcony wouldn’t save any of them. They had to get away from the house.
“Beau, hurry!” she called as loudly as she dared. A huge tree grew near the balcony. If she had both her hands free, Aubrey could leap to it. But she had Sara. And Beau would have no hope of saving Wayne. She tried not to think about that as she hooked her arm through the strap of Sara’s little overalls, dangling the baby from her arm like a purse. She couldn’t wait another moment. She climbed up on the balcony ledge, sent up a silent prayer, and leaped. Maybe she could sneak up on David and stop him from pushing that button.
She nearly slipped off the branch, but she managed to grab on to another branch and balance herself. A tomboy in her youth, she had no trouble scampering down the tree like a monkey, though she had to be careful not to let Sara bump the tree trunk or get scraped.