The Waterfall

by Carla Neggers

  Mowery got Swift to stand beside Sebastian, then he marched them both off the deck. Sebastian wasn’t too worried. He figured he had about ten minutes to figure something out before J.T. found Lucy, and all hell broke loose.

  Lucy charged down the path from the falls, slipping in the wet pine needles, oblivious to her fatigue, the pain in her side from running.

  “Mom!”

  “J.T.” She sank onto her knees, caught him in her arms as he almost ran over her. “Are you all right?”

  “Sebastian,” he croaked. “Grandpa. Mom!”

  She realized he was incapable of talking. He was out of breath, in shock. “It’s going to be okay, J.T. The police are on their way. Come on.”

  She half carried, half pulled him up the path back to the falls. Plato, pale and bloody, had two guns on Barbara Allen, his and hers. Madison was shivering next to him, cradling her arm in pain, not looking at the woman who’d nearly killed her.

  Lucy knew that, for her children’s sake, she had to appear to have command of the situation. She urged J.T. down next to Madison. “Sit here by your sister. Don’t move. Don’t look at Barbara.”

  “Mom, that man had a gun pointed at Grandpa,” J.T. said breathlessly. “And Sebastian—he—he was right there.”

  “Don’t think about it. Just think about breathing.” She put her palm on his chest. He was wet and cold with rain, terrified. “In, out. Come on, J.T. Think about it. Breathe in, breathe out. Slow and controlled.”

  But he whimpered like a lost puppy, and her heart broke. Madison, gray-faced, fell back on a bed of hemlock needles as she dealt with her terror and the pain of her injuries.

  Lucy steeled herself against her own rush of emotions. She had to think. “Plato, I need to borrow one of the guns.”

  “Better idea.” His voice was soothing, steady, professional. “You stay here, I go with the gun.”

  She shook her head. “You won’t get three steps before you pass out.”

  He smiled feebly. “Bet I get six steps.”

  “Plato…”

  “Go, kid.” He flipped her Barbara’s gun, barrel first, and kept his. “Mine’s high-tech. You’ll shoot up the woods with it. You know how to pull the trigger?”

  “I think so.” She felt the weight of the gun in her hand. “I’ve seen a lot of movies. Is there a safety or anything? Do I have to cock it?”

  Plato looked at her with his bloodshot eyes. “Just pull the fucking trigger.”

  Lucy nodded. “I will if I have to.”

  “And trust Sebastian.” Plato cleared his throat; he was weak, in need of medical attention. “He does things in his own time, and in his own way. Trust him, Lucy.”

  “If he’s renounced violence—”

  “He’s renounced gratuitous violence. If Mowery’s got a gun on him and a senator, we’re not talking gratuitous. Lucy, if Sebastian can’t go through a brick wall, he’ll go around it. He’ll find a way.”

  She blinked back tears. “I hope you’re right.” J.T. shivered violently. His lips were purple, and dark circles had formed under his eyes. “Mom, don’t go. I’m scared.”

  Lucy looked at her son and daughter. Their father was dead, their grandfather was being held hostage. If something happened to her, Madison and J.T. would end up in Costa Rica with her parents. She couldn’t be reckless or take unnecessary chances. It wasn’t a question of courage. It was a question of responsibility.

  She had to trust Sebastian, the way she’d had to trust Madison to get herself into a position from which Lucy could pull her up out of the falls.

  “I love him,” she said to Plato. “Sebastian. I love him.”

  Plato leaned against his rock. “I don’t know which one of you has it worse. Sebastian, loving you, or you loving Sebastian. You’re both a couple of stiff-necked pains in the ass.”

  Lucy smiled and bit back tears. “I’ll go down and meet the police, make sure they get the rescue squad up here.”

  He nodded, satisfied, too spent to talk.

  “J.T. can come with me. You up to it, kiddo?”

  He sniffled and put his hand in hers, and she kissed her daughter and told her it wouldn’t be much longer. “Hang in there, okay?”

  Madison didn’t open her eyes. “Sure, Mom.”

  Barbara Allen didn’t say a word, didn’t acknowledge Lucy’s presence or her own imminent arrest.

  Plato was sinking fast. He managed one last smile. “Tell your local yokels to hurry it up. I’m about ready to push Ms. Barbara here over the falls and call it a day.”

  In spite of his fatigue and terror, J.T. kept up with Lucy. She took the path to the dirt road, assuming the police would come that way instead of along the brook path.

  When they emerged onto the dirt road, J.T. gasped and tightened his grip on his mother’s hand. Then she saw, too. Just down the road, Jack and Sebastian were walking a few feet ahead of another man who she presumed was Darren Mowery.

  “That’s him,” J.T. whispered. “That’s the man—”

  Lucy bent down to him. “Go back and tell Plato.”

  Plato was in no condition to help, she knew, but he could hold onto her son. J.T. hesitated. She gave him an encouraging hug, and he summoned his last reserves of energy and ran back up the path.

  Mowery must have heard them or sensed their presence. He half turned to her. “Put the gun down, Lucy, or I shoot Sebastian.”

  She’d almost forgotten she had a gun. She glanced up the path. She raised it. “If you shoot Sebastian, I’ll shoot you.”

  Sebastian eased around slowly, without a word, and Jack inhaled sharply. Lucy didn’t know what to do. She wasn’t a marksman. She hated guns. She held her breath, met Sebastian’s eyes just for an instant. He didn’t speak. He didn’t give her even the smallest sign as to what she should do.

  Mowery moved, and she fired.

  Blood spurted from his right buttock, and he swore viciously. Sebastian pounced, tackling Mowery with blinding efficiency and ferocity, knocking the gun from his hand as if he’d been waiting for just this moment, just this mistake.

  Jack snatched up the gun. Lucy kept Barbara’s gun pointed in their direction, in case she was mis-reading the situation and Sebastian wasn’t winning.

  Sebastian pushed Mowery facedown on the ground and yanked his hands behind his back in what looked like a professional hold. He shook his head at her. “You shot him in the ass?”

  “I guess I did.”

  “Lucy, for God’s sake. You don’t shoot someone in the ass. If you’re in a situation that requires you to fire your weapon, you’re shooting to kill.”

  “I was shooting to shoot. It’s not like I was aiming!”

  “Well, hell. That makes me feel better.” He motioned to her with one hand. “You want to lower that baby, then?”

  She lowered the gun. She knew Sebastian was half teasing, half lecturing to keep her mind off what she’d just done—how close they’d all come. She saw how serious his eyes were. “Did you have the situation under control?” she asked.

  “No.” He grinned. “But I was working on it.”

  Jack handed Mowery’s gun to Sebastian and turned to his daughter-in-law. “Lucy,” he sobbed. “Oh, God, Lucy.”

  “The kids are okay.” Suddenly tears were streaming down her face. “Madison, J.T.—they’re okay.”

  Sebastian held the gun on Mowery, moaning in pain. “Go, you two.” He spoke to Lucy and Jack without looking at them. “Go to your kids.”

  Lucy walked over to him, the dirt road squishy under her feet. The rain had stopped altogether now; the air was close and yet refreshing, as if it had been washed clean. Her eyes met Sebastian’s. His were still deadly serious. This, she reminded herself, was his job, work he knew how to do—work that had brought her to him in the first place.

  “Are you okay?” she asked quietly.

  “You mean, am I going to put a bullet in Mowery’s head the minute you and Jack turn your backs?” He gave her a ragged smile. “I�
�m the one who renounced violence, remember?”

  Lucy managed a smile back. “Well, don’t tell him that.”

  “Go on. I’ll get Mr. Mowery to the police. No loose ends this time.”

  Jack took her hand, and together they walked up to the falls. She told him what Barbara had done.

  “My God, Lucy.” His voice cracked, tears spilled down his wrinkled cheeks. He squeezed her hand. “I had no idea. I didn’t put it together. I should have spoken up sooner.”

  “Water over the dam now, Jack. We both made mistakes.”

  “I’m shattered,” he said, “and I’m stunned. I never expected this. Never, not in a million years. I’d have done anything—anything—to spare you and the kids this ordeal.”

  “I know you would. That’s the hardest thing, isn’t it?” She pictured her injured daughter, her terrified son. “Realizing no matter how much you want to, how hard you try, you can’t protect your kids from life.”

  “It is. It’s the hardest thing.” He tucked his hand into hers. “But you’ve given Madison and J.T. the skills they need, the good judgment. Lucy, when I saw J.T. running up those steps straight at Mowery—”

  She shuddered. “It’s over, Jack. It worked out.”

  “Thank God.”

  As they came to a curve in the path, Lucy glanced back. Sebastian was in the same position, alone with his gun drawn over an enemy who had once been his friend.

  “He won’t shoot him,” Jack assured her.

  “No,” Lucy said, “he won’t. But I think it’s how he likes life best, don’t you? Alone with a gun on a bad guy.”

  “Actually, no. I think he likes life best with you. I think he has for a long, long time.” Her father-in-law pulled her arm around him and hugged her fiercely. “It just wasn’t possible until now.”

  Sixteen

  The Capitol Police and the local police weren’t too happy with the Swifts. “They chewed my ass off, too,” Rob said, as he and Lucy lined up supplies for the father-son backpacking trip. It was four days later, and they had work to do.

  Lucy sighed. “Well, I was right about them crawling all over the place, wasn’t I?”

  Rob grinned at her. “A kidnapped senator does bring the men with guns out of the woodwork.”

  The Capitol Police had assigned a detail to Lucy, Madison and J.T., until they completed their investigation and were satisfied Darren Mowery and Barbara Allen had no other accomplices. Straightforward greed, one detective told Lucy, was often an easier motive to sort out than vengeance and obsession.

  Sebastian had found another car—a getaway car Mowery had put in place—in a small clearing on the western edge of Lucy’s property. He’d meant to use Jack as a shield until he no longer needed him, then shoot him, shoot Sebastian and take off. Mission accomplished, Sebastian Redwing dead and discredited. Money was never the point. The freedom from hating Sebastian was.

  Rob stood over a row of water bottles. “I wish J.T. could come with us.”

  “Next year.”

  He smiled gently. “Maybe Sebastian will take him.”

  Lucy couldn’t think that far into the future. Right now, it was enough to count water bottles. Madison and J.T. were with their grandfather and Sidney Greenburg, who’d flown up from Washington. They were all picking wild blueberries—even Madison with her broken arm in a cast. “We all need simple, healing tasks,” Sidney had said in that kind, firm way of hers.

  After Rob headed for home, Lucy walked across her yard to her front porch. She paid attention to the soft grass under her feet, the warmth of the sun, the smell of the flowers and the sounds of the birds. Simple, healing tasks. Walking across the yard. Breathing in the clean summer air.

  Plato Rabedeneira was sitting on a wicker chair on the porch. He looked less ashen and weak, but still wasn’t a hundred percent. The bullet wound on his head was lightly bandaged, bruising at its edges.

  Lucy laughed as she came up the steps, delighted to see him. “I didn’t know you were getting out of the hospital. When did this happen?”

  “I fought my way out this afternoon.” He grinned at her. “I thought the bastard’d never spring me. I hate hospitals.”

  “How did you get here?”

  “An FBI detective I know.”

  “The FBI’s here, too?”

  “Lucy, everyone’s here.”

  “Well, they can all go home. I want my life back.”

  His dark, handsome eyes settled on her. “Do you?”

  She knew he meant Sebastian. “I can’t leave here,” Lucy said quietly. “This is my home. Madison and J.T. need to be here.”

  “Lucy, Lucy.” Plato shook his head at her. “There are two things in Sebastian’s life that are permanent. This place and you.”

  “His ranch—”

  “He almost lost the damn thing in a poker game.”

  “Redwing Associates,” she said.

  “He’s done his bit. He can do something else, maybe leadership training. You get the right kind of leadership in place, you can prevent a lot of trouble down the line.” He stretched his long legs. “Of course, sometimes you just run into bastards and wackos. Keeps us in business, I guess.”

  “Bastards and wackos. Are those technical terms?”

  “Absolutely.” But his grin faded, and he said softly, “Lucy, I’m sorry I didn’t do better by your kids.”

  “You did fine by my kids. Madison’s got good-looking men with guns watching over her, and J.T.’s named one of his Micro Machine helicopters after you. I’m sorry you got shot looking after them.”

  “Yeah. Not your everyday baby-sitting job.”

  “You’re welcome to stay with us as long as you want.”

  But he shook his head, rising stiffly to his feet. “I need to get down to Washington and check on Happy Ford.”

  “She’s okay?”

  “She’s got a long recovery ahead of her, but she’s tough.”

  “Then it’s back to Wyoming?”

  “Work’s piling up.” He took both her hands and pulled her to her feet. His dark eyes sparkled with a humor that was pure Plato Rabedeneira. “Don’t tell Sebastian, but I had his cabin bulldozed. Packed up his poetry and maple syrup and mowed that sucker down.”

  Lucy bit back a smile. Plato, Sebastian and Colin had always had an unusual friendship, the rules of which she didn’t understand. “What about his dogs and horses?”

  “Moved them up to the main part of the ranch. I think the yellow Lab might do okay out here. The other two are western dogs. Sebastian can get new horses.”

  “Plato…”

  “He’s staying, Lucy. Trust me.”

  “I don’t know. It’s as if he’s gone inside himself. I don’t even know where he is.”

  Plato laughed. “Are you kidding? He’s out playing detective with the big boys and checking out the talent in case he sees any good prospects for the company. I said he was staying, Lucy. I didn’t say he was quitting.”

  Sebastian took them up to the falls that evening after dinner. Jack and Sidney promised to have hot cocoa and cookies waiting when they got back.

  The sun was low on the horizon; the air warm and dry, without a breeze. At Lucy’s side, Madison shook visibly. “Mom, I don’t know if I can do it.”

  “You don’t have to do it. We can turn back.”

  She nodded. There didn’t seem an inch of her that wasn’t bruised. Her cast was already covered with signatures, drawings of hearts and flowers, smiley faces. When the news of her ordeal spread through town, her friends came up by the carload.

  “I’ll do it,” she whispered.

  Up ahead, J.T. held Sebastian’s hand. He had his Plato helicopter in his other hand. He kept looking up at Sebastian, as if taking his cue from him. Sebastian focused on the task at hand. Mind the tree roots, step over the rocks. He’d been thoroughly no-nonsense since the police had carted off his former mentor and friend, a man he’d thought he’d killed a year ago.

  They stopped when they
could hear the falls. “Listen,” Sebastian said.

  Madison frowned, then managed a small smile. “It’s beautiful.”

  J.T. looked around at her. “What?”

  “The sound of the waterfall.”

  “It’s just water,” he said.

  Sebastian tugged on his hand. “Come on.”

  They walked all the way to the top of the falls, to the ledge where Barbara Allen had dangled Madison. The scraggly hemlock was still scarred from the rope. Madison was breathing rapidly, and Lucy worried about her going into a panic attack or hyperventilating. But she said nothing, and her daughter squared her jaw and pushed ahead of her mother, her brother and Sebastian. Madison placed a hand on the tree and looked down into the deep, cold pool.

  “Don’t, Madison,” J.T. sobbed. “You’ll fall.”

  “It’s just water and rock,” she said over her shoulder at him. “Come on, J.T. I didn’t fall the other day. I was pushed.”

  Tentatively, he went and stood next to his sister, but kept back from the very edge of the ledge. Sebastian looked at Lucy, his hard gaze impossible to read. “What about you?”

  She remembered her terror and helplessness at seeing her daughter hanging over the waterfall, knowing she was hurt, frightened, one wrong move away from not coming out of there alive. Her baby. She blinked back tears, could almost feel Madison’s little head against her shoulder as she’d rocked her as an infant. Madison wasn’t a baby anymore.

  “Come on, Mom,” J.T. said.

  Lucy walked up the sloping rock and stood next to her children. The water of Joshua Falls ran clear, a mix of sunlight and shade dancing on the surface. “We did good that day,” Lucy said. “All of us.”

  Madison smiled at her mother. “It’s beautiful here. It’s just so beautiful.”

  On the way back, J.T. skipped ahead to catch tree toads, and Madison counted the names on her cast. Lucy smiled at Sebastian. “At least we managed to do that without the Capitol Police on our tails.”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  “You mean—”

  “They shadowed us. I just didn’t tell you.” He grinned at her. “Jack’s leaving in a couple of days. They’ll go then, too.”