Irene’s lips twisted in an ugly smile as she rolled something in her hands. “The ropes hurt, don’t they?”
Jessica was silent.
Irene hit the table, and Jessica jumped.
“It’s rude not to answer when spoken to, isn’t it, Miss Manners?”
What the hell was wrong with this woman? The color was high on her cheeks, and her eyes held a fanatical gleam. She was losing control. Jessica tried to calm her down.
“You’re right, Irene. I apologize. Yes, the ropes do hurt.”
Irene nodded, satisfaction curling her lips. She went back to rolling whatever it was she held in her hand. Jessica caught a flash of white. Was that—was that a pearl? Jessica shifted, and realized she couldn’t feel her necklace. It must have broken when Irene had attacked her.
“I know it hurts. My mama used to tie me to the table each night. I know exactly how they hurt. But wait, it gets worse after a few hours.” Irene smiled.
Oh, God, she’s going to drag this out for hours? Jessica’s breath hitched. This woman had killed her aunt. She’d injured Oliveria, possibly killed her, too. And Gwen. Where was Gwen? Her stomach knotted with fear for her friends. What could Irene do to Jessica over the course of a few hours?
Jessica wanted to scream, but nobody could help her. She’d sent Noah away. Oh, damn, what the hell was she thinking? She wanted him. She wanted his strength. She wanted his skill, but most of all she wanted his honesty, so that he could tell this woman to go to hell.
But he wasn’t here. She was on her own. She’d have to deal with it. Like she should have dealt with it from the beginning, and then maybe all those people would still be alive. Like Aunt Jacquie.
She took a shuddering breath. “I’m sorry to hear about that. Was your mother very cruel?”
Irene’s face froze. “She wasn’t cruel,” she protested in a small voice. “She was a good mama. She just wanted me to be a good girl.”
Jessica trembled. If the woman had tied Irene to a chair for hours, she could only imagine what other cruelties the mother had subjected her daughter to. And how that had warped a young girl’s mind. So the whole family was sick and twisted.
“Would she think you’re a good girl, now, Irene?” Jessica asked. Perhaps if she could get her to realize what she’d done, the woman would let her go. It was worth a try.
Irene’s face hardened. “Don’t you ever talk about my mama. You aren’t fit to breathe her name.” The woman rose from her seat at the head of the table and slowly advanced.
Jessica blinked back tears. Good one. She’d inflamed the psycho.
* * *
Noah entered the Pennington Business Academy with a silent stealth. The place was quiet. Too quiet. Gwen must be on a break. Or maybe she was trying to talk some sense into Jessica, trying to stop her from closing the business and walking into the sights of her stalker.
He started to walk down the hallway, and his cell phone rang on his hip. He answered it quickly, keeping his voice pitched low.
“What?”
“I have the background on Irene Chapman,” Ryker said.
“And?”
“She is one twisted bitch. Her mother was murdered by an intruder when she was ten, or so the newspaper reports say. Her mother was stabbed multiple times, and Irene found the body.”
“I can see how that would send anyone off the deep end.”
“Problem is, there were no witnesses. There were no reports of burglaries in the area at the time, and Irene was apparently shocked mute by the event for three months, and didn’t make a statement until much later. She was hospitalized, because the authorities thought she was suffering severe shock and withdrawal.”
“Why do I feel a ‘but’ coming on?” Noah asked quietly as he stopped in the hallway.
“I’ve gone further back into Irene’s history, before her mother’s death. She had a lot of visits to the hospital, and social services were due to pay a visit the week after her mother died.”
Noah closed his eyes. “She was abused?”
“Looks like it. A few fractured ribs, bruises. Once, she had two fractured wrists.”
“So, you think Irene snapped and killed her mother?”
“I do, but who’s going to believe a ten-year-old girl killed her mother? Like I said, no witnesses, nobody was ever charged, and the person who found the body was mute for three months before she gave any information.”
Noah turned around. This was getting worse.
He froze. He was looking down the hall to the reception desk, but this time he could see behind the reception desk.
He slowly made his way back. Oh, damn. He knelt by Gwen’s side, and closed her sightless eyes. She was gone. The poor woman. Her face wore the same stunned look he’d seen on many soldiers who had died a sudden and violent death.
“We have a situation at the Pennington Business Academy,” he said into the phone, and rose to his feet. He pulled his 9mm Berretta out of his back holster, and slid off the safety. “She’s here. Get your asses here on the double, and call the cops. We have one fatality at reception. Keep this line open.”
Chapter Nineteen
He lowered the phone and stepped over so that his back was to the wall. He was a big guy, and he wanted to minimize the size of the target he made out in the hall, just in case Irene had a gun as well as the knife she’d used on Gwen.
He checked each room as he made his way toward Jessica’s office. Once he’d cleared them, he closed the doors quietly behind him. He wanted to know which areas were clear, and if someone had entered the room after him. A little farther up he found a blood trail on the carpet. He swallowed. Please don’t be Jess.
He poked his head into one of the classrooms, and hurried in. Oliveria lay on the floor. She looked up at him weakly. She’d lost a lot of blood, her complexion gray. He held his finger to his lips, and she nodded before her head rolled back.
He picked her up and silently ran down the hall and out to the elevator foyer. He shouldered open the door to the fire exit, and quickly lowered her to the concrete floor. She’d been stabbed in the stomach. He pulled off his jacket, balled it up and pressed it to her wound. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. He nodded approvingly.
“Good. Keep that there. Help is on the way.”
Tears rolled down her pale cheeks. “It’s Irene.” Her voice was hoarse.
He nodded. “I know. I’m here to stop her.” He was determined to end the woman’s campaign of terror tonight. He lifted the phone to his mouth. “I have an injured woman in the stairwell, at the fire door for the fifth floor. Stab wounds to the abdomen. Send a medic.”
He made to get up, but Oliveria’s surprisingly firm grip on his arm stopped him.
“She’s in the dining room. Fifth door on the right. Irene’s taken Jess to the dining room.”
He nodded and left Oliveria in the stairwell. Irene had Jess. He prayed Jessica was alive and all right. He didn’t want to lose her.
Once back in the office suite, he made his way down the hall, leading with his gun. He kept his breathing even, calm. Checking the remaining rooms, he quickly ended up at the door to the mock dining room, and halted outside. He peered through the crack between the door and the jamb and listened.
* * *
“Why have you done this, Irene? Why have you caused so much damage?” Jessica asked quietly, calmly. Ooze tranquility. She pushed back a little. The chair moved. It didn’t loosen her bonds, but if she kept pushing, she could possibly get her legs clear of the table. Then maybe she’d be able to use them in defense. Anything would be a help, right about now. In the meantime, maybe if she could get Irene to see her as a person, and not as a target, she might be able to talk her down from whatever psychotic state she was in.
“You’ve hurt Oliveria. She
was my friend. And you killed my aunt. You met her, didn’t you? Remember? The KTFA Christmas party last year?” She desperately tried to think of another occasion, something else to make it personal. “What would your mother think?” She pressed back again. The chair slid an inch. Slowly does it.
“You spread lies about my mother,” Irene yelled at her from across the table. “My mother was good. She just wanted me to be a good girl,” she said, dissolving into tears.
“And you are a good girl,” Jessica said hurriedly, changing tact. Maybe sympathizing with her would yield a safer result. “You take such good care of the guests at KTFA. You are very good at your job. Why, just the other day Julie was telling me that you were her star employee, and how good you are at work.”
Irene tilted her head. “Really?”
“Yes, your mother would be so proud.”
“Then why did you spread those lies about her? Why did you laugh at her?”
Jessica couldn’t remember ever meeting Irene’s mother. “When? What are you talking about?” She racked her brain, but couldn’t recall any association whatsoever with the deranged woman’s mother. What the hell was she missing?
Irene lifted her hand to scratch her temple, and for the first time Jessica saw the bloodied knife in her hand.
Uh-oh.
“You said you tilt the spoon away from you, but you’re supposed to tilt it toward you,” Irene said quietly. “That way you can see how much soup you have left.”
Jessica’s mind went blank. “What?”
Irene rubbed her temple harder. “When I called you, you said you had to tilt the spoon away, instead of toward you.”
“You called me?” Jessica tried to remember taking a phone call from Irene. Sometimes she’d dropped in to give her the program schedule, but nothing was discussed about soup…”I can vaguely remember a call at the station,” she began, and then stopped. “That was you?”
The caller had rung in, all excited about an error Jessica had supposedly made in the dining etiquette segment she’d covered. She remembered the woman argued with her about which way you sipped soup from the bowl. The caller had mentioned how her mother had taught her the “right” way, and that it was toward you.
Jessica had responded with the reason for the “polite” way of spoon tilting. You tilt the spoon away from you, to avoid spillage on tablecloths and clothes. The caller had argued up until that point, and had then hung up.
Her jaw dropped. “This is about soup?” Her aunt was dead, because of soup? Oliveria was hurt, possibly dead, because of soup? This whole nightmare was because of bloody soup?
Irene pointed the knife at her as she walked around the end of the table. “You were wrong. Mama would make me sit for hours, without dinner, whenever I got something wrong. You were wrong, she was right. And you laughed at her.”
Jessica shook her head. “I never laughed at her. I never met the woman. I never laughed about her, either. I simply disagreed with her instruction.”
“Well, you can meet her. In hell,” Irene whispered as she raised the knife. Tears ran down her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Mama, I’m so sorry.”
“Irene, don’t.” The male voice came out of nowhere, and for a moment, Jessica thought she’d dreamt it.
Noah.
* * *
“Put the knife down, Irene.” Outwardly he was calm, controlled. Inside he was a seething mass of rage and panic. Irene’s shirt was bloodstained. Her hair was disheveled, and she had the craziest eyes he’d ever seen. Full of bloodlust. “Put the knife down.”
“No, Mama has to pay,” Irene whispered, her eyes darting between him and Jessica.
“I understand, Irene, but that’s not Mama. That’s Jessica,” he said calmly as he entered the room, his gun aimed at the crazy woman. He didn’t want Irene to confuse Jess with the woman who’d abused her for years and driven her to murder.
Irene shook her head. “No, Jessica’s a naughty girl. She doesn’t know her manners. She doesn’t know to keep a quiet tongue in her head. You never speak against Mama.”
Noah almost felt sympathy for the woman. She must have been through hell, with the rigid, controlling mother who punished her so harshly for every minor transgression. He thought of Oliveria in the stairwell, and Gwen’s body at reception. Jacqueline Pennington. Mrs. Archer. There was no excuse.
“Why did you kill Mrs. Archer?” he asked suddenly. It didn’t fit. She was just a neighbor.
Jessica flinched.
“Who?” Irene frowned. Noah took advantage of her distraction by stepping closer.
“Mrs. Archer. The lady upstairs.”
Understanding dawned on Irene’s face. “Oh, was that her name? The old biddy found me delivering one of the notes to Jessica’s home. I couldn’t have her blabbing, could I? I had to kill her. But it worked out all right.”
Noah nodded. “Yes, that’s how you got into Jessica’s place and left that message.”
Irene giggled, and the knife rose to her temple as she scratched it again. “But that wasn’t my first time inside, you know.”
Noah ignored Jessica’s whimper. He didn’t want to look at her. Technically, she was all right. She was breathing, and from what he’d overheard, she was functioning on all pistons. If he looked at her, his concern for her could become a distraction. He kept his gun trained on Irene. She was still too close to Jessica.
“Why don’t you tell me more about it, outside?” he suggested.
Irene squinted, and she turned to Jessica. “No. Mama has to pay for what she’s done.”
“I’m not your mama,” Jessica said clearly.
Irene blinked. “You were so cruel,” she whispered. “I tried so hard to please you, but I was never good enough. You were so hard on me. You didn’t have to be so hard on me, Mama,” she cried.
“I’m sorry, Irene. You’re right.”
Noah carefully masked his surprise at the difference in tone coming from Jessica.
“I was wrong. I shouldn’t have done those things. You were such a good girl for me,” she said. Noah realized what she was doing. Oh, God, no. She didn’t know this woman’s background, didn’t know what she’d done. Didn’t know there was a good chance this woman had slain her own mother.
“No, Jessica,” he shouted. But it was too late.
Irene’s face twisted into a sneer. “Liar. I was never good enough.”
She raised her hand and brought it down.
Jessica’s leg rose and she kicked the woman in the hip. Irene staggered back, then launched herself at Jessica.
Noah didn’t hesitate. He opened fire. Irene’s body jerked as the bullets hit, but it wasn’t until she’d crashed onto the table and fell onto the floor that the fanatical gleam in her eyes finally dulled.
Noah raced over and kicked the knife from Irene’s limp hands, then turned to Jessica. She was tied to a chair, and her face wore a stunned, battered expression.
“It’s over,” he whispered as he untied her bonds. “It’s over, she’s dead.”
Jessica started to cry as he picked her up in his arms and carried her out of the room.
Chapter Twenty
Jessica stood back to admire her artwork. Okay, she was lousy at art, but all she had to do was cover the darn wall with one color. Why did that seem so hard? She tilted her head to the side, noticing pale patches here and there. Maybe she should have employed painters. She could afford them, after all. Jacqueline Pennington had left some generous donations to charity, and had named Jessica as her sole heir.
AJ came up to her. “Jess, maybe you should stick to teaching?”
Jessica grinned at him. “Cheeky brat.” AJ crossed over to dab at a spot close to the trim. All of the teenagers associated with the Challenge Youth Center, their parents and teachers from surrounding sch
ools, had all turned up for the working bee she’d organized for the center.
She looked around her. She couldn’t help smiling. The community was coming together to support this cause. A place for the troubled youth of the area to come to share, play and learn. Her aunt would have wanted to support something like this. Thoughts of her aunt wiped the smile off her face. In the weeks since her aunt’s death, she’d battled depression, and severe guilt. Mandy Richards, the psych consult at the McCormack Security Agency, was helping her come to grips with it. And Noah, well, Noah was in her face, and not budging. He’d taken a leave of absence from MSA to be with her. In her darkest moments, he was there beside her. He’d told her that he’d made the mistake of leaving her once, when she’d told him to, and look how that had worked out. He wasn’t going to do it again. He’d even taught her some card games. She was getting better at strip poker.
Secretly, she was relieved. He was her rock, and through this nightmare she’d fallen just a little more in love with him, if that was possible. He didn’t let her get away with blaming herself for what happened, in those dark moments when she couldn’t see it any other way. He would point out, with his special brand of honesty, that it was her guilt talking, and not the facts.
Noah and Jeff Lyon had helped her find a Chief Operating Officer to take her aunt’s place in the company. Jessica still retained voting rights, but Adrian Zedinsky would make the operating decisions for JP Designs. Noah had performed security checks, and insisted on meeting the man before the appointment went through, but they were all satisfied with their decision.
Oliveria was out of the hospital, and recuperating at home, with around the clock nursing supplied by Jessica. Jessica was humbled by the generosity of her friend. The woman didn’t blame her for the critical injuries she’d sustained, but Jessica couldn’t help feeling somehow responsible for what had happened, and they’d banded together over the death of their dear friend, Gwen. And Oliveria wanted to come back to work for her. Jessica shook her head. She’d even conceded to reopening the business, but with a name change. It would now be the Vega School of Etiquette. Oliveria loved it.
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