Lieutenant Taylor Jackson Collection, Volume 2

by J. T. Ellison

  “Look at her past, Taylor. Rachael succeeded by manipulating others to do her work for her. It’s possible. And with a doctor’s license, she could fake the papers. She’s a master forger, family signatures would be nothing to her. We just need to find out where she put her.”

  Evan’s suicide note. Could Maddee have written it? Could she have sent the email from Memphis’s account, too?

  A voice rang out from the hallway. “Taylor? You should come to lunch. We’ve been waiting for you.”

  Rachael.

  She had the electronic code to the family’s private quarters after all.

  The Highsmythes had let the wolf into the chicken coop.

  Taylor’s voice was mouse quiet. “Lincoln. She’s at my door.”

  “Did you send me all the files?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then find a way to get her computer back into her bag, and don’t let her know we’re on to her. I’ll get looking for places Evan might be.”

  “You know what name to look under, right?”

  “Yes. Rachael Mack.”

  “Right. Do me a favor and get Baldwin. I’ve been trying to reach him without luck. He’s supposed to be heading here, so he may be en route. Find him and let him know what’s happening. Talk to you in a bit.”

  “Taylor. Watch yourself.”

  “I will.”

  Rachael was knocking on the door now. Hard. Taylor slapped the laptop shut. Looked at it critically. It was so thin… She stood and put the computer down the front of her jeans, sending a mental thank-you to Steve Jobs’s design team. The heavy wool sweater she wore covered both the laptop and the gun at the small of her back perfectly.

  She went to the door and opened it. Rachael had a huge, winning smile on her face. If she knew something was up, she was one hell of an actress.

  “Hiya. Hey there. How you feeling? Trixie said you were up and about. Want to come down and have lunch? You can meet Roland—properly, this time. I’m afraid he was a bit put out that I was so trashed last night. Then we couldn’t get down the drive. The truck kept sliding off to the side of the road. He’d forgotten the chains. So we gave up, hiked back up to the house. We had to stay here last night. He wasn’t all that thrilled, let me tell you. The kids are home with the nanny, and God knows what sort of trouble they’ve managed to get into.”

  Taylor forced her voice to stay in a normal range. “That’s quite an adventure. Lunch sounds great. I’m actually starved, and I’d love to meet Roland.”

  But I don’t plan to eat a bite with you anywhere around, you psycho bitch.

  Dr. Maddee James, née Rachael Mack, didn’t seem to have a clue that Taylor was on to her. Which was helpful. Taylor shut the door to her suite and the two started off down the hall together.

  “I was hoping you’d come down for our session this morning. Did you at least do the exercises I gave you?”

  Taylor gave her own winning smile. She wasn’t too bad of an actress herself.

  “Yeah. We maybe hit it too hard last night. Getting up this morning wasn’t exactly easy. Despite the hangover from hell, I did do the exercises. And I listened to the biofeedback tape. I kind of passed out last night after our party—haven’t done that in a while—woke up in the middle of the night with a horrid headache. I took all my meds, got back in bed and slept through till Trixie woke me. That melatonin is amazing. I need to get some back in the States. I owe you—no doctor has ever been able to cure my insomnia.”

  Rachael touched Taylor’s back with the palm of her hand, between her shoulder blades. A reassuring pat. Taylor did her best not to cringe.

  “You are so welcome. I’m glad it helped. So you listened to the tape. How did it make you feel?”

  “So relaxed. I am feeling so much better. You’re doing wonders for me. I really don’t know how to thank you.”

  “You just did,” Rachael said. The cold snap in her voice was hard to miss. She didn’t want Taylor getting better. She wanted her dead. The tape proved it.

  They were at the door to the second dining room now. This would be Taylor’s only shot. She patted her front pocket.

  “Oh, crap. I forgot my phone. I’m waiting for my fiancé to call. Listen, you go on in and sit down. I’ll be right back, okay?”

  “Oh, sure. No problem. See you in a minute.” Rachael went into the dining room without a backward glance.

  The moment Rachael was inside the door, Taylor reversed course. She ran down the stairs, down the hall, back to the drawing room. All the while, the same three words ran through her head.

  Evan’s not dead.

  Evan’s not dead.

  Evan’s not dead.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  The door to the drawing room was closed. She didn’t think about it, just turned the handle and went inside. Crossed the room.

  Rachael’s bag was gone.

  Shit. She looked around a bit, thinking maybe one of the maids had moved it, but no, it was nowhere to be seen. What were the odds that Rachael hadn’t looked into the bag and noticed her laptop missing? It was a light little thing, it wouldn’t change the weight of the bag if she’d picked it up hastily.

  “Looking for this?”

  Taylor froze. Son of a bitch.

  She turned slowly. Rachael was standing there, dangling her leather bag off two fingers, swinging it lightly back and forth.

  “I can explain,” Taylor stammered.

  Rachael’s sweet, disarming smile didn’t match her tone.

  “Oh, I’m sure you can. May I have my laptop back? I assume you’re finished digging through my private life.”

  Think fast, Taylor. Think fast.

  “I was borrowing it to send my guy an email. My laptop’s been acting weird. I think it has a virus. I was down here getting some tea, saw it in your bag, and borrowed it. I’m sorry. I should have asked permission first.”

  Rachael moved into the room, still swinging the bag in front of her. Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

  “I’ve heard that about you. You like to break the rules, and you only ever apologize if you get caught. That’s not a very noble way to live your life.”

  Remember what Baldwin said, Taylor. Don’t listen. She’s planted suggestions in her hypnosis sessions. She’s trying to get you to listen so she can trigger you.

  “I said I was sorry. Here, take your laptop. I’m going to lunch.”

  Taylor set the laptop on the end table and started edging toward the door.

  “I don’t think so. We still have so much work to do.”

  Rachael set her briefcase down on the couch. Every move was deliberate. Calculated. She never looked away from Taylor’s eyes.

  “I think you need to relax, Taylor. You’ve had a very big week.”

  She inched closer.

  “Stop now, Rachael.”

  Her eyes flew wide in surprise, then she collected herself. “You poor girl. You’re completely deranged. My name is Madeira. Madeira James.”

  “Your name is Rachael Mack. I know all about you. I know what you’ve done. It’s over. You need serious help, and I’m sure the American authorities will be more than happy to provide that for you. Skipping out on probation is rather frowned upon. There’s a warrant out for your arrest. Now stop moving, and stop talking.”

  “Taylor. Think about that warm—”

  “No. Stop, right now. You say another word, and I won’t be responsible for my actions. You hypnotized me, remember? All I have to do is show that biofeedback tape to a judge and I’ll be off the hook. You’ve been messing with the wrong woman’s mind this time, Rachael.”

  Her face contorted. “I said my name is Maddee!” She started toward Taylor.

  That was the last straw. With a lightning-quick draw, Taylor removed the weapon from her waistband and sighted down on Rachael.

  “Stop,” she said.

  Rachael kept moving, edging sideways.

  “I’m not going to warn you again, Rachael. You take one more step and I will shoot y
ou.”

  Rachael stopped. Calculated.

  “Ah, Taylor. Ever the avenging angel. Doing what you do best. You can’t use your wits to get out of the situation, so you resort to brute force. Murder. You don’t scare me. I’ve seen inside of you. I know how much you enjoy this part. In fact, I’ll let you prolong it for a bit.”

  “You are out of your mind, Rachael. I feel sorry for you. Here you served your time, had a chance at a normal life. You have a husband and children of your own. You’ve thrown it all away, and for what? Trying to gain the favors of a man who doesn’t want you? Who will never want you?”

  Rachael smiled, an eerily cold grin. She started to move again, edging left, and left, and left again. Taylor kept the gun pointed at center mass, moved in concert. They danced through the drawing room, inch by inch, a centrifuge of anger and wariness.

  “Where did you stash Evan? Tell me where she is, and I won’t shoot you.”

  Rachael showed her teeth. “You don’t frighten me, Taylor. You aren’t going to shoot me. You can’t stand the thought of yet another life weighing down your conscience. You’ve hit your limit. I was right about you. You enjoyed killing your Pretender, but you know your soul will fracture into too many pieces if you kill again.”

  “You are so very wrong. I don’t need to kill you to shoot you, you bitch. You of all people know how that works. You disabled them beforehand. Made it easier. But you couldn’t do it all yourself. You needed a helper. Tell me, what did it feel like when they put your Robert to death? When they shoved a needle in his veins and pumped him full of drugs? When his heart stopped beating? Did that make you happy? Your secret died with him, or so you thought.”

  Rachael stopped moving. She was perpendicular to the entrance. Taylor was directly opposite. The room’s furniture spread between them.

  “You don’t know anything about me.” Rachael’s voice was a hiss, each word enunciated. “You have no idea what my life was like. I had no choice.”

  “Oh, but you did. Remember what you said to me, you loathsome piece of crap? You have free will. You have a choice. I certainly believe that. I’ve never killed without knowing it would shatter me inside, without knowing that if I didn’t, innocent people would lose their lives. But you, you killed for your own gain. Things weren’t going the way you wanted, so you murdered your family. Manipulated your boyfriend. Told him you were being mistreated, abused. That your daddy had sex with you, and your mommy knew it and didn’t care. How much convincing did it take to get Robert to kill them for you?”

  Rachael’s tone changed, became soft, cajoling.

  “You’ve suffered a great trauma, Taylor. Seeing your friends hurt, it was too much for you. You’ve been in a fragile state. Everyone knows it. You’ve told enough people about the things you’ve seen, heard and done. We are all very concerned about you. We’re just trying to help you. Please, Taylor, you need to put down the gun. This won’t solve anything.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about? This isn’t about me. This is about you. What you’ve done.”

  A deep voice. “Taylor, listen to Maddee. She’s only trying to help.”

  Memphis edged into the room.

  Taylor didn’t dare take her eyes off Rachael. Memphis started to come toward her, right arm outstretched, like he was planning to take the gun. Taylor backed away a few paces.

  “Don’t even think about it, Memphis.”

  He stopped.

  “Taylor. You’re okay. It’s all okay. Just put the gun away. No one needs to get hurt.”

  She glanced at him, a fraction of a second’s look. He wasn’t smiling.

  “I came as quick as I could, Maddee. I’m so glad you called. Looks like I got here in just the nick of time.”

  Taylor met Rachael’s eye. “You called him. That’s why he set off in the middle of the storm. What did you say, Rachael? What sort of lie did you sell him this time?”

  “Who the hell is Rachael? Taylor, you’re acting insane. Please, give me the gun.”

  “I’m sorry, Memphis. But I can’t. I don’t know that you’re not in on this with her.”

  Rachael turned to him. “I told you, Memphis. She’s had a psychotic break. We need to get her sedated as quickly as possible. I have some injectable Haldol in my bag. I was trying to get to it to give her a shot, and she pulled a gun on me. I’m frightened, Memphis. She’s out of control.”

  Memphis looked from Taylor to Rachael, completely confused.

  “Oh, for God’s sake. Memphis, her real name is Rachael Mack. She had her whole family murdered when she was just sixteen. Spent seven years in an asylum in upstate New York. Her boyfriend, Robert Deaver, was executed for the killings. They used an ax to cut them to pieces, then burned the house down. Her mother, her father and her baby sister. All because they said she couldn’t date him. She’s the one who’s insane, not me.”

  “She’s delusional, Memphis. You’ve known me for years. Does that sound right?”

  “Ask Rachael about Evan, Memphis—ask her where Evan is.”

  That got his attention. His face creased with worry, but he was facing her, not Rachael. Taylor caught it out of the corner of her eye, and knew she needed to move quickly. He was choosing Rachael’s story over hers.

  “Oh, Taylor. Honey. I’m so sorry. This has obviously gone further than we can all handle. Let me get you some real help. The storm is breaking. The snow had all but stopped when I arrived. I can have Baldwin brought here. We’ll get you straightened out. I’m so sorry. I should have never left you alone up here.”

  Rachael went to Memphis’s side. “Listen to him, Taylor. We just want what’s best for you.”

  Taylor was getting furious. How could Memphis not listen to her? Why wouldn’t he hear what she was saying? She took two steps toward Rachael, who muffled a scream behind her hand and clutched on to Memphis’s sleeve.

  “Like you wanted what was best for Evan?” She looked at Memphis. “Seriously, Memphis. You have to listen to me. Evan isn’t dead. Rachael couldn’t stand the fact that she had you. She wanted you for herself. She started with a smear campaign on your name. She ‘leaked’ your ‘affair’ to the press. Hell, she even changed her last name to your given name, to feel closer to you. Didn’t you ever wonder why she picked James? Then she started drugging Evan, feeding her the same shit she’s been feeding me. Remember how sick Evan was, and the doctors had no explanation? She was losing weight in her third trimester. When that didn’t do the trick, she staged Evan’s death and stashed her away in an insane asylum. Lincoln is scouring hundreds of records, looking for your wife right now.”

  He still didn’t believe her. She could see it. He thought she was crazy.

  Memphis and Rachael kept up the soothing dialogue, like they were trying to calm a seriously pissed-off bee.

  They’d take a step to the left, Taylor would respond with one to her left. She was getting closer and closer to the door. Maybe she could bolt for it. Lock herself in her room and wait them out. Memphis had said the storm was breaking. That meant Baldwin would be on his way.

  Another step. Another. Memphis was using the tone he’d used on the bridge, that charming, you-know-you-love-me voice. Rachael was simply watching her, wary and distrustful. Taylor was the one with the gun, after all, though she’d truly prefer not having to use it.

  A quick glance over her shoulder—the door was two feet away. She edged one step closer, took a quick peep at Rachael, then saw Memphis’s eyes slide over her shoulder.

  Taylor whipped her head around in time to see Jacques lunge at her. He grabbed her in a bear hug, wrestled the gun from her grip, and everyone exploded into motion. Memphis bolted toward her to help Jacques. Rachael leapt for her bag.

  She’d been flanked.

  Taylor started to scream. “Don’t you let her do that, Memphis! She’s trying to kill me. She’s going to kill you too. Please, Memphis. Jacques, tell him! Tell him!”

  Jacques just held her tightly. He had her in a half nels
on. Normally she could get out of it, but he had a bad angle on her. She continued to struggle, but slowed a bit, as if she were giving up. She’d need the element of surprise if she were to get out of this.

  Memphis reached down to grab her legs, and she booted him in the face. Her Wellies weren’t as solid as cowboy boots, but he hadn’t been expecting it, and his neck snapped back. Blood spurted from his nose.

  She took advantage of the shock to slam her head back into Jacques’s nose. She felt the cartilage give way. He stumbled back against the doorjamb, only one hand on her now. She whirled fast to her right, all the way around and kicked him in the knee, hard enough to break the bone. His leg doubled in on itself and he went down.

  Memphis came back at her again, yelling expletives. “For Christ’s sake, Taylor. You broke my nose. What the hell?”

  “Just get her, Memphis,” Rachael yelled.

  He dove back in. She felt horrible. She didn’t want to do this. She didn’t want to fight him.

  He didn’t want to fight her, either. He came at her with his arms outstretched, like he could snare her. Rachael darted in from the left, trying to distract her.

  Taylor let her. Jacques was trying to rise aided by the doorjamb, a ferocious scowl on his face. He hadn’t drawn his gun yet, that was a plus. He might still be on her side. Or he might shoot her in the back. She had to take the chance. She kicked at him, knocked him off balance. He crumpled to the floor again with a moan.

  Memphis had one hand on her now. She let them come in, made like she was about to hit Memphis again. She feinted with her elbow, he ducked. She used her leg to sweep him off his feet. He landed on his back with a grunt, then started to scramble up. Taylor paused for a second as if she were winded, then as he rose, she punched him, hard, on the cheek. He went down again, and she turned, just in time to see Rachael a foot away, the hypodermic needle poised to jam into Taylor’s thigh.

  She dodged to the left, too quick for Rachael to follow. She swept her left hand out and caught Rachael’s upturned hand, while chopping her arm with the right. Taylor had been trained, and was in the grip of a Valkyrie fury. Rachael only had the will to survive on her side, plus two very broken men.