Angels Don't Cry

by Amanda Stevens

  Then she was plunged downward again, pushed farther and farther away from the light—

  Jack’s face swam back into focus as he stood there staring at her, still holding the glass swan in his hands. He took a slow step toward her, shifting the glass from one hand to the other, as if testing its weight.

  Run, Angel!

  Where the silent command came from, Ann never thought to question. She whirled, still clutching the candle like a beacon as she headed for the stairs.

  She was already on the landing when she felt Jack’s hand catch her arm. Ann swung around, her momentum throwing them both off balance. The candle flew from her hand as they both tumbled to the floor in complete darkness. Ann heard the muted clank of the glass swan hitting the thick rug beside her head. Then Jack was on top of her, holding her defenseless with his weight as his hands closed around her neck.

  “Don’t make me do this,” he begged as she clawed at his hands with her nails. “Don’t make me do it the hard way.”

  “Why?” She gasped the word into the darkness as her fingers still tore at his grasp. Her mind screamed a denial even as she felt his fingers tighten around her. “Why did you kill her?”

  She couldn’t see his face, but his voice was filled with the same pity she had glimpsed in his eyes. She understood why now. He was sorry, but he was going to kill her, too.

  His grasp loosened slightly as he stared down at her in the darkness. “I thought it would be so easy. I’d talk you into selling the farm, take what money I needed and you’d never miss it. You never missed your trust fund, but Aiden did. It’s funny, isn’t it? Uncle Adam gave me control of yours and Aiden’s money because he didn’t trust Aiden. And Aiden didn’t trust me. Of course, she needed the money as desperately as I did. That’s how she found out it was gone.”

  He was talking to her quickly, in the same defensive tone he’d used as an adolescent to explain away whatever trouble he happened to be in at the moment. For some reason it seemed important to him that she understand why he was about to kill her. Ann lay silently, waiting for his grasp to slacken still more. She let her arms fall limply to her sides. But her heart thrashed wildly in her chest, and her mind raged against him for what he had done to Aiden and for what he was about to do to her.

  “She was blackmailing me, Ann. She found out I’d embezzled the trust funds, and she was going to send me to prison if I didn’t pay her back, with interest. I couldn’t get my hands on that kind of money. Not just like that. And there was no way I could go to prison. I wouldn’t last a day there. What else could I do? It was her or me.”

  Ann could feel his eyes on her, even in the darkness, and knew what he was thinking. Now it was him...or her.

  “You could have come to me for help,” she whispered desperately.

  “I needed money, not a lecture,” Jack said, his tone suddenly sounding angry. “You would have condemned me without so much as a blink. That’s why I decided to try to scare you into selling the land. It might have worked, too. You were scared last night, weren’t you? But I never considered you might want to give away the land. Lord, Ann, what were you thinking? This place is worth a fortune....”

  As he talked on and on, Ann realized what he was doing. He was prolonging the inevitable. He wasn’t murdering her for the enjoyment of it. Quite the contrary. She really believed he had genuine feelings for her. But Jack had always put himself first. Why hadn’t she realized that before?

  Her hand moved silently across the carpet, instinctively searching for a weapon where one would not likely be. Her fingers touched something cool and hard—the glass swan jewelry box. Her heart leaped to her throat as her fingers closed around the crystal.

  “I can’t wait any longer, Ann,” he said sadly. “Kate’s expecting me back at the office. Would you do me a favor? Would you please close your eyes—”

  With one lightning move, Ann’s arm swung upward. The darkness gave her attack the element of surprise. Jack barely had time to duck, but the glass swan still caught him solidly at the temple. With a moan of pain, he fell sideways, his hands slipping from her neck.

  Ann scrambled away, using arms and legs to struggle to her feet. Groping for the banister, she started down the stairs. The air thickened with smoke. Ann could only imagine that the flung candle lay smoldering somewhere below, but she couldn’t take the time to find it. She had to get out of the house now!

  She heard a noise behind her just as a hand clamped around her ankle. For a moment she teetered on the top stair, arms flailing at the air. Then, as if in slow motion, she toppled downward. Only Jack’s grip around her ankle kept her from tumbling down the stairs. Gasping and panting, she struck out with her other foot and caught him in the face. With a grunted curse, he released her and she was suddenly free.

  Half rolling, half crawling, she was halfway down the stairs before she got to her feet. She took the rest of the steps on instinct alone, flew across the corridor and pulled open the heavy wooden door. Breathless and terrified, she fled into the night.

  Her car stood in the drive, but her keys were upstairs in her purse. She rushed toward Jack’s car and opened the door, feeling frantically for the ignition. He’d taken his keys!

  For an eternity it seemed, Ann contemplated her choices: the road to the highway and pray for a car to come along, or the old River Road and across the bridge to Sam McCauley’s place. She was almost sure Jack would expect her to take the highway. With the instincts of a trapped animal, Ann whirled and headed blindly, desperately, toward the river.

  The fog thickened as she neared the water. Gray swirls of mist rose from the water, hiding the edge of the bluff. Slipping and sliding along the top of the mossy bank, she followed the raging, rain-swollen river toward the road. Sam McCauley’s property lay just beyond the bridge. If she could cross it, she could reach help.

  And suddenly there it was, soaring above her, rising out of the mist-shrouded river. Ann crouched there for a moment, shaken and terrified as she listened to the sounds of the night. Was Jack out there somewhere, listening for her?

  “There’re only two ways to go, Ann.” The disembodied voice floated through the haze, chilling Ann to the bone. He’d somehow guessed where she’d go, and had followed her. She lifted her head, trying to gauge the direction. “You can go across the bridge, or you can come back this way. Which will it be?”

  With trembling legs Ann began the nightmarish ascent up the road to the bridge. The wooden planks groaned beneath her weight as she stepped onto the bridge. Water dripped from the rusted rafters overhead. The surging of blood in her temples echoed the rush of the water three stories below her. The rotting floor beneath her feet vibrated with the sound. She took another step, feeling one of the boards shift and give. She drew back her foot.

  “I don’t think you can cross it, Ann. You were always terrified of that bridge. Come on back down here. It’ll be so much easier this way. Why torture yourself?”

  She was amazed at how calm his voice sounded, as though he was dealing with a petulant child. Ann moved slightly to her left, and took another step. The wood was solid here. She took a deep breath and continued. One step at a time, she told herself firmly. She wouldn’t allow herself to listen to Jack’s coaxing voice, rising out of the mist somewhere behind her. She only wanted to concentrate on one step at a time.

  She was halfway across when the floor of the bridge disappeared. With a scream, Ann crashed downward, downward toward the swirling, rushing water far below.

  * * *

  Drew cursed the fog that shielded his view as he sped along the highway toward the farm. Oh, God, why hadn’t he seen it earlier? He’d lived with Aiden long enough, he should have recognized the signs, the desperation. Maybe he had and just hadn’t wanted to believe it was happening again.

  In hindsight the clues were all there—Jack’s urging Ann to sell her land, the gambling—all seeming so innocent on the surface, but Drew, of all people, should have seen beneath to the darkness that drove him
.

  He should have seen, but he hadn’t, Drew thought, his hands clenching tightly around the steering wheel. And now what if he was too late to stop him? What if—

  Don’t think about that, he ordered himself. Just a few more miles to go. Concentrate on the road.

  But he couldn’t stop thinking about the letter, Aiden’s letter, and the implication of its contents. She had found out that Jack had embezzled her and Ann’s trust funds, and she’d been blackmailing him, threatening to send him to prison if he didn’t come up with all the money he owed her and a lot more besides.

  She had told him to meet her in Mexico the day before she’d disappeared. It didn’t take much to imagine the ensuing scenario. Jack’s desperation and Aiden knowing all the right buttons to push him right over the edge. The next step would have been inevitable—with Angel out of the way, he stood to gain it all.

  Drew automatically slowed for the turnoff to the farm, but still drove past it and had to backtrack, throwing the car down the narrow lane at a dangerous speed. Visibility was almost zero, but as he rounded the last bend, the fog took on a strangely surrealistic glow.

  “Oh, my God.” Drew ground the car to a halt in the drive, staring through the windshield in disbelief. Flames shot through the windows of the farmhouse. He lunged from the car, his mind barely noting the presence of both Ann’s and Jack’s cars in the the drive. He rushed toward the inferno, his mind screaming a denial even as he felt the heat blasting his face.

  He was at the front door, ready to plunge into those flames, when a distant scream slashed like a deadly knife through the darkness. Without a pause, Drew was running toward the sound, each breath a silent prayer.

  * * *

  Ann’s fingers slipped a little more as she frantically clutched the wet, rotting wood of the bridge. She could feel the spray from the rushing water below where it pounded against the rocks soaking her legs and clothes, chilling her as she clung to her flimsy support.

  “Did you fall, Ann?”

  The voice swirled around her, dark and treacherous like the night, closing in on her. Ann had been hidden by the thick haze until now, but her scream had given away her location. Even now she could see the mist frothing at the end of the bridge, where Jack moved toward her.

  Ann’s arms screamed with pain as she closed her eyes, fighting for strength. Every second was agony, but still she fought. From a distance, another voice pierced the blackness. Ann let out a little sob as she recognized Drew’s voice.

  “Ann! Where are you?”

  She took a deep breath, summoning up the strength to answer him. “Drew!” Her voice was no more than a croak that was quickly swallowed up by the roar of the river.

  But Jack had heard her. A gust of wind swept across the bridge, clearing the fog. She could see Jack clearly as he stood looking at her. For a moment their eyes clashed as he slowly started toward her. Ann’s fingers slipped closer to the edge—

  “Don’t do it, Jack!” Drew called from the end of the bridge. “I saw the letter.” He moved toward them with an appalling disregard for his safety, quickly traversing the crumbling boards of the bridge as he continued. “I know everything.”

  Jack paused for a moment, as if torn by indecision. Drew was rapidly closing the distance between them. As if gauging the distance, or perhaps his chances, Jack’s gaze went from Ann to Drew then back again. As he stood looking down at her, he grinned suddenly and shrugged.

  “My timing was always lousy. Believe it or not, I’m almost relieved.” Then with a rush of movement, he swept by her and was swallowed up by the fog.

  The pounding of his footsteps against the wooden planks echoed hollowly against the night. The footfalls ceased, blotted out by the loud crash of rotting boards breaking away beneath a weight. For one split second, all was silent, and then Jack’s stunned cry split the night as his body hurled downward to the rocks waiting below.

  Ann was only dimly aware of Drew kneeling beside her on the bridge. His powerful hands locked over her wrists. “I’ve got you. Let go and I’ll pull you up.”

  Her fingers were gripped like vises around the edge of the wood. Ann looked down at the swirling mist below her. “I...can’t.”

  “Angel, trust me.”

  She closed her eyes and loosened her grip. Within seconds Drew was holding her so closely she could scarcely breathe.

  She tried to pull away and move toward the rail. “Jack—” she said desperately.

  “Don’t,” Drew said, his hands gripping her arms. “Don’t look. There’s nothing we can do.”

  She collapsed against him, clinging to him for support as he kissed her in an intense, desperate, out-of-control way that somehow seemed a part of the tragic, terror-filled night.

  “I love you, I love you, I love you,” she whispered over and over again as he lifted her up and carried her across the bridge to safety.

  “I told you not to come across that bridge again,” she said weakly, still clinging to his warmth.

  She heard the smile in his voice. “It seemed the shortest way home this time.”

  “You risked your life to save mine,” she said softly, reverently.

  “What else could I do? My life wouldn’t have been worth much without you.” He kissed her again, tenderly this time, and Ann leaned into him, feeling his strength flow into her.

  The wind had steadily picked up, blowing the fog upward and away. The western horizon was suddenly alive with color and sound. A flush of orange crept skyward as a siren screamed through the darkness.

  Drew’s arms tightened around Ann as she struggled to free herself. “Oh, my God,” she whispered urgently as realization hit her. “The house is on fire!” With a spurt of energy, she broke from his hold and was running down the path, unmindful of the treacherous footing or of Drew’s hand gripping her arm, steadying her, keeping her from falling.

  She sprang from the woods just as the roof of the house collapsed, shooting flames and sparks skyward, like an erupting volcano. Two fire trucks were on the scene, and a dozen or so men scurried around the yard, spewing water onto the blaze. But the fire was relentless, tearing down walls, devouring every inch until nothing remained but a smoldering, empty shell of memories.

  As if in a daze, Ann watched the last vestiges of her past crumble away. Behind her, a sleek, gray cat crept out of the woods and hobbled toward her on three legs, the green eyes alive with curiosity. Sinking to the ground, Ann stroked the soft fur as she spoke to Watson, softly, soothingly, while the past tumbled down around her.

  She didn’t even notice that Drew was no longer at her side until she saw him talking to Sheriff Hayden. When he returned, she struggled to her feet, and Watson scurried back to the shadows. “Jack—”

  Drew shrugged. “A search party’s being organized. There’s not much that can be done until daylight, though. I’m sorry, Ann. I’m sorry about everything.”

  “I don’t feel anything,” she said woodenly, hugging her arms across her chest as if to reassure herself she was still alive. “It’s all gone, and I don’t feel anything.”

  “You will. You’re in shock now.”

  “I believed in all the wrong things. In all the wrong people,” Ann said quietly. “I feel like I’ve been wandering around lost for such a long time.”

  With one last look at the smoldering ruins of the house, Ann turned and looked up at Drew. In the glow of the dying fire, she could see the lines deeply etched across his face. He looked indescribably weary, but his eyes were as soft as starlight and filled with hope and longing and love. So much love.

  “Take me home, Drew,” she whispered urgently. “I want to go home.”

  He opened his arms and she walked into them.

  Epilogue

  Dappled sunlight danced across the carved headstones as a soft breeze whispered through the trees, stirring the late afternoon heat. But it was cool here. Cool and serene. Ann knelt beside Aiden’s tombstone and placed a single white rose against the marble, then traced
the lettering with her finger.

  Overhead a tiny brown sparrow flitted into the thick leaves of an oak, drawing her gaze upward. She watched for a moment as avid black eyes studied her curiously. A slant of light fired the diamonds in her wedding band, flashing a prism against the smooth surface of the marble. The little bird’s head cocked as he shifted on the branch.

  It was so quiet here. So peaceful. Ann closed her eyes for a moment, letting the sensations flow over her like a ray of soft light. Warmth. Comfort. Happiness. Whether her own feelings or something more, she wasn’t sure—she only knew that she felt a deep and abiding contentment she had never before known. It was strange to think that in losing her sister, she had also found her again. She could let go now, without regrets, knowing that she forgave and was forgiven.

  “Goodbye, Aiden.”

  The soft words, spoken aloud, startled the little bird overhead. With a flourish, he streamed into the sky, circling. For a long moment Ann watched until he was lost in the brilliant white light of the sun.

  With a deep breath, she stood and turned toward the gate. Outside the shaded cemetery, the sun beat down hot and bright and relentless. And most welcoming. Ann could see the glare against the windshield of Drew’s car. Reclining against the front fender, he waited patiently for her.

  When he saw her approaching, he stared at her for a moment, then lifted his hand to wave. And to beckon. Ann’s stride quickened.

  Life is for the living.

  * * * * *

  AMANDA

  STEVENS

  Never acknowledge the dead.

  Never stray far from hallowed ground.

  Never get close to the haunted.

  Never, ever tempt fate.

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