by Sandra Brown
Lisa plowed on. “Rusty searched in my room. That left only Dad’s bedroom. It was empty. But what struck me then was that Rusty’s muddy footprints on the stairs and along the hall were the only ones in any part of the house, other than those there by the back door.
“Dad had come no farther into the house than just inside the kitchen door where I had last seen him, remorseful, wringing his hands, tears in his eyes. The bag of money at his feet. It was then that I began to get a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.”
Lisa seemed to lapse into the memory. Ledge and Arden glanced at each other. He asked, “What was Rusty’s reaction to finding him gone?”
Lisa roused herself. “He was like a man possessed. He pointed out to me that Dad’s car was still in the garage, that my car was in the drive. He kept asking how he could have gotten away. I didn’t dare mention the boat. But I did ask about Foster.”
“And their secret meeting,” Ledge said.
She nodded. “In that reeking ditch, Rusty had emphasized that we should act like virtual strangers if we saw each other. Why had he gone against his own advice and arranged to see Foster that same night?”
“How did he answer?”
“He didn’t. But it was like I’d given him an electric shock treatment.”
“He realized he needed to establish an alibi,” Ledge said. “He went to Crystal.”
“I didn’t know about that,” Lisa said. “Nor did I care. I just wanted him out of this house. He left with threats ringing in my ears. He warned me never to tell about any of it. He also said that if he ever discovered I was in cahoots with ‘my old man,’ he would kill me. Then he limped out of here.”
“What did you do after he left?” Arden asked.
“Collapsed where I stood. I tried to absorb the shock of it all and figure out what I should do. My first priority was to protect you from what had already happened, and from whatever might be coming. After pulling myself together, I cleaned up the floors and straightened things Rusty had disturbed. By the time you woke up, everything looked normal.”
“Except that Dad didn’t come down for breakfast. You sent me up to his room, knowing that he wasn’t there.”
“I kept waiting for him to walk through the back door and explain his disappearance.” She looked at the back door and gave a humorless laugh. “To this day, I’m still waiting.”
She took a moment, then continued. “You and I baked our cake and had our Easter dinner, but you were dejected because Dad wasn’t here. You asked to go to the cemetery, and I took you. Dad actually had gone the night before. There was a fresh arrangement of flowers on Mom’s grave. I resented that pathetic gesture.
“If he had loved her as much as he professed, if he loved us so much, why had he left me to deal with Rusty alone? When he did slink back, I looked forward to calling him a gutless coward to his face. You see, I was still under the delusion that his abandonment was temporary.”
She sighed. “On Monday, detectives from the sheriff’s office came. It was clear from the outset that Dad was suspected of both the burglary and complicity in Foster’s death. Can you imagine what it was like to be interrogated by Rusty’s father? I wanted to blurt out what his psychotic son had done to poor, spineless Brian Foster. But I was afraid that if I breathed a word, Rusty would make good on his promise to harm you. Based on what you’ve told me about recent events, I still have reason to fear that. As you do,” she said, looking over at Ledge.
After a time, Arden said, “They found Dad’s boat caught up in cypress knees in a narrow bayou. There was a manhunt. Helicopters. Search dogs. Where did he go?”
Lisa raised her arms at her sides. “How he managed his getaway remains a mystery.”
“Maybe he didn’t,” Arden said. “Manage it, I mean. Maybe he didn’t survive that night. In his haste to get away, maybe he fell out of his boat and drowned.”
Ledge reminded her that the lake had been dragged in search of his body.
“But only in the vicinity of where they found his boat, and around where Foster’s remains were discovered. Maybe Rusty caught up with him after all, killed him, and hid his body, never to be found.”
Ledge said, “It would have had to happen quickly, or his arrival at Crystal’s house wouldn’t time out.”
“And he was so badly injured,” Lisa said. “I think he would’ve lacked the strength.”
“Also,” Ledge said, “if Rusty had caught up to Joe, he would have reclaimed the money. He wouldn’t still be bitter over losing it.”
“He wouldn’t have hounded me for years.”
Lisa’s statement took Arden by surprise, and Ledge, too, it seemed. He said, “Fill us in.”
“I had made arrangements for Arden and me to relocate as soon as the school semester ended. This would have been almost three months after Easter, and still no sign of Dad. Days before we were due to leave town, Rusty came here to the house and repeated his vows of vengeance if he learned that Dad and I had plotted to screw him out of the ‘haul,’ as he called it.
“Then for several years after we were in Dallas, he would show up periodically and issue the same threats. But he could see how modestly we lived, at least until I married Wallace. After that, I guess Rusty gave up hope. He stopped the surprise visits.”
She reached for Arden’s hand. “Marrying Wallace gave me a sense of security, but I never forgot Rusty’s threats. I knew he hadn’t forgotten them, either. That’s why I was so adamantly opposed to your moving back here. I panicked when you told me you had interviewed him to do repairs.” She tipped her head toward Ledge. “I never wanted you to know any of this.”
“But I should have known, Lisa. I’ve lived in denial that Dad took the money and ran. You enabled that. You let me cling to the hope that he was innocent.”
“I couldn’t bring myself to tell you differently and shatter that illusion.”
“I’m not that fragile. I’ve built up an immunity to having my illusions shattered.” She looked at Ledge. Although his eyes shone very blue in the dim room, his expression was unreadable.
Lisa took a drink of her soda, which must have gone warm. “Now that we’ve bared all, what do you plan to do?”
“Shut Rusty down,” Ledge said.
“We’re going to take everything to the attorney general’s office,” Arden told her. “All of it. Foster. Dwayne Hawkins.”
“The burglary,” Lisa said, looking resigned.
“I’m sorry,” Arden said. “But all this started with that.”
“It’s time I paid the piper for an egregious mistake.”
“You can’t be prosecuted.”
“No, only persecuted. Which,” she said, drawing a deep breath, “is no less than I deserve for being so stupid.”
“We’re both guilty of that,” Ledge said.
“Did Wallace know?” Arden asked.
“God, no,” Lisa said, looking horrified at the thought. “He put me on a pedestal. If he’d ever found out, I couldn’t have borne his disappointment in me.” She gave a wistful smile. “Before this goes public, I’ll resign my position at the firm to spare the board having to demand my resignation. Wallace left me a rich widow. I won’t suffer anything except the humiliation of having been a thief.” She turned toward Ledge and regarded him for a long moment. “You surprise me.”
“How’s that?”
“You didn’t break the pact.” She gave a terse laugh. “Honor among thieves?”
Before he could reply, his cell phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket. “Hey, Don.” He listened, then said, “Oh, shit. Did she say—Wait, this could be a setup. Did you check the caller ID? You’re sure?” Then he hissed, “Son of a bitch. Yeah, yeah, I’m leaving now.” He looked at Arden, who was already on her feet. “She’s doing all right. Yes, yes, I will. I promise. Gotta go.” He clicked off.
“What?”
“A staffer at the memory center called the bar, asking for me. She talked to Don on behalf of George, who was on his
way out of the building in a dead run, giving chase to some guy who pretended to be a friend of the family there to see Uncle Henry.”
Arden said, “I’ll come with you.”
“No.” His tone brooked no argument. “Not this time. You two stay together, but leave here as planned. Soon as you can get gone, go.” He looked over at Lisa.
As unflappable as always, she said, “I’ve taken care of her for twenty years.”
Coming back to Arden, he said, “I’ll keep you updated if I can. If not, Don will be in touch.”
“Ledge—”
“I’ve got to go, Arden.”
“I understand. Hurry.”
He left through the back door, but Arden went out behind him. Beyond the steps, the downpour was as heavy as a drapery. He hovered beneath the eaves to fish his key fob from his pants pocket. He flipped up the collar of his jean jacket. Arden had crowded in behind him on the top step.
He turned and reached for her hand, squeezing it hard. “If you were paying attention last night, you know everything you need to know.” He punctuated that with a firm kiss, then hurdled the lower steps and ran through the torrent to his pickup.
Arden stayed and watched him drive away before going back inside.
Lisa was standing at the sink, gazing out the window. “It’s really coming down.”
Arden shut the door forcefully. “That’s what we’re going to talk about? The weather?”
Lisa turned, looking defensive. “Weren’t you better off not knowing?”
“No.”
“What difference would knowing have made?”
“I would have been free of doubt. I would already be well past this stage that I’m in now.”
“What stage is that?”
“Infuriated.”
Lisa shook herself as though throwing off a cloying garment. “We have a lot to talk about. Most of it will be painful for both of us. But it would be beneficial if we presented a united front when we take all this to the attorney general, or whomever. Don’t you agree?”
Arden turned her head aside, raked her fingers through her damp hair, and murmured, “Ever practical.”
“And you’re ever impassioned.”
Coming back to Lisa, she said, “Yes. I take things to heart, I feel deeply, and I refuse to apologize for it.” Having reached an impasse, she turned way. “I’ll pack.”
“I haven’t been upstairs since you’ve been back. I’m going to take a look around.”
Not caring if she sounded snide, Arden said, “Make yourself at home.”
She went into her room, took her suitcase from the closet, and opened it on the bed. She packed only what she would need for several days, not by any means intending to stay with Lisa indefinitely.
After folding several changes of clothing into the suitcase, she opened the closet and bent down to get a pair of shoes. When she straightened up and turned around, she came face-to-face with Rusty, who was leering at her.
Before she could make a sound, he raised his hand to the side of her head, and the lights went out.
Chapter 40
Ledge drove at a speed that would have been incautious on dry pavement. It was suicidal on wet. His windshield wipers were on high, and it was still like driving through a car wash. He steered with his left hand while using his right to place a call to George’s cell, holding out little hope that he would get an answer.
He was shocked and relieved when George answered with, “Yo. Cap’n. You all right?”
“Yes, but how are things there?”
“Under control.”
“You caught him?”
“Caught who?”
Ledge’s heart bumped. He braked, causing his truck to hydroplane and fishtail. He maneuvered it onto the shoulder and stopped. “Somebody from the center called the bar, said that you were chasing a guy from the building, that—”
“Cap’n, I’m sitting here with your uncle Henry. We’re watching a rerun basketball game on ESPN.”
“Fuck! I mean, damn, I’m glad you’re both okay. But, oh, fuck, George.”
“You were suckered.”
“Big time. The dude got to somebody there on staff to fake an emergency call.”
“I’ll find out who and make them cry for their mama.”
“For now, stay with my uncle. Don’t leave him alone until you hear from me personally.”
“Copy.”
Ledge didn’t let himself become distracted by either his temper or self-castigation. He went into combat mode and focused on the job at hand.
He wheeled his truck around, barely avoided getting stuck in the ditch on the other side of the road, and was soon speeding in the direction from which he’d come.
He thumbed his phone to call Don, who answered immediately. Without any preamble, Ledge asked if any of the retired Texas Rangers were within shouting distance.
“All of them.”
“Dispatch them to the Maxwell place. Like now. I’ll need witnesses who’ll bear out that I was given no choice.”
“To do what?”
“Kill Rusty.”
“Arden?” Lisa called.
Where Arden lay with her ear against the floor, she could both hear and feel the vibration of her sister’s footsteps as Lisa entered the kitchen from the direction of the living room.
Rousing, Arden tried to sit up, but she was dizzy and off balance. Her hands were bound behind her back. Flex-cuffs, she thought.
“This place looks even worse upstairs, if that’s possible,” Lisa said as she came through the kitchen.
Arden tried to warn her, but only managed to croak her name.
“Are you—” When Lisa pushed open the door, she froze in place on the threshold and gripped the doorknob for support.
“Hi, Lisa.”
Arden’s synapses were operating sluggishly. From where she lay on her side on the floor, she looked up and blinked Rusty into focus. He was wearing disposable gloves. Her nine-millimeter looked very dark and menacing against the bright blue latex on his right hand.
Her own gun was aimed at her? How and when had Rusty gotten it?
Lisa said, “Don’t, Rusty. Please don’t.”
“Don’t pull the trigger, you mean?”
“Please.”
“Look at that, Arden.” He nudged her hip with the metal toe of his boot. “Did you think you would live to see the day that this bitch would beg?”
He bent down and hooked his free hand in Arden’s elbow, then yanked her to her feet with a suddenness that made her nauseated. He shoved her down onto the side of the bed. She sat, swaying, but raised her chin and gave him the fiercest look she could muster.
“Ledge is on his way here. If you hurt us, he will kill you.”
“Ledge is speeding in the opposite direction to rescue his poor ol’ senile uncle Henry.” He poked the barrel of the pistol between her breasts. “If you move, you’re dead.”
Lisa raised her fingers to her mouth and whimpered. “Arden hasn’t done anything to you.”
“Not yet, but she and Burnet are cooking up a bad batch of hassle for me. The only reason I haven’t killed her yet is because, first, I want to expose her to the devious bitch you are.”
As he said that, he reached into his shirt pocket, then opened his hand so they could see what it held. “These little buggers are the best invention ever. You stick them someplace like underneath a kitchen table, and you can hear conversations clear as a bell. Well, not quite that clear, especially with this damn weather. But clear enough.
“Unfortunately, I didn’t get this one planted soon enough to be privy to everything Arden and Burnet have been discussing over the last few days, but I’m guessing they’ve been plotting my never-gonna-happen downfall.
“However, I did get it in here last night after taking care of some other, rather urgent business.” He winked down at Arden as though they shared an inside joke. Dwayne Hawkins. “While I was here, I helped myself to this.” He brandished the pistol.
“So when I kill her,” he said, indicating Lisa, “it’ll look like you did it before shooting yourself.”
“What a foolish plan,” Arden said. “Nobody will believe that I killed my sister. I have no reason to.”
“Yeah, you do. You just don’t know it yet.” He gave her a wide grin. Then going back to Lisa, he said, “Where was I? Oh, the bug.” He bounced it in his palm, then returned it to his pocket. “Luckily, I successfully planted it last night. Because, today, I caught you lying through your pretty porcelains.”
“I confessed that I was in on the burglary, not our dad.”
“Oh, I know. I heard. And it was touching. Truly. But, no, see, what I’m referring to came later in the conversation, when you were telling her and Burnet about me coming here, ranting and raving like a man possessed. Et cetera.”
“Do you deny it?”
“No. Not at all. If I’d’ve found Joe and the money that night, I probably would have killed him, and you with him, taken the money, and been a happy camper.”
He pursed his lips and frowned down at Arden. “Wouldn’t have made a very good Easter morning for little Arden, though, would it?” Then his features became taut with malevolence as he turned back to Lisa. “Did baby sister’s welfare cross your mind when you were murdering her daddy?”
Arden’s stomach heaved. She had to swallow quickly to keep from spewing bile.
Lisa fell back a step, her spine landing hard enough against the door frame to make a knocking sound. “You’re demented.”
“I’m crazy like a fox is what I am. I pick up on things. Like when you told your appreciative audience that I went into the kitchen there, looking for Joe, and all that was left of him were muddy footprints just inside the back door and a wet patch where the bag of money had been.”
“So?”
“There were no footprints. No wet spot.”
Arden looked over at Lisa, whose lips had gone as white as her fingers still gripping the doorknob.
“When I heard that,” Rusty continued, “it got me to thinking that the rigmarole about you hearing him come in, finding him in the kitchen with the money, and telling you the jig was up, yada yada, was bunk. He never made it back to the house that night, did he?”