"Did you ever tell her this?"
She shook her head. "What good would it have done? She didn't listen to me. She'd scream that it was my fault we were poor, that no man would look at her because of me, that I was an ugly child, and no man would ever want me. And she was right."
"That's not true," Michael said. "Don't you know the effect you have on men?" Didn't she understand how he felt? Hadn't their time together proved to her the depths of his feelings, the power she had over him?
"Yes," she laughed. "I know it. Look what happened in California. That time I went as far as getting engaged, and look how that turned out. My fiancé ran off with another woman." She stopped again. Michael still held her hands. "All my relationships turn out like that. I'm simply not cut out for the married with children lifestyle."
"God, are you wrong. You just haven't found the right man."
She stared at him then.
Dropping his hands, she continued, "I don't think he's out there. But we were talking about Thanksgiving."
"You don't have to go."
"What if she's trying to make up for the past?" Her confusion showed. "I don't know that I want to be the one slamming the door."
Michael smiled. After all the years and verbal argument her mother had given her, Erika was still willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. Michael had never known a fully beautiful person before, but Erika St. James had that inner beauty he'd read about but never expected to find.
"You want to go?" he asked. Confusion marred Erika's features. "I'll go with you," Michael said.
"You will? What about your family? Peter said you were all getting together for dinner."
"I'll send my regrets. This is obviously important to you, and I'd like to be with you."
He didn't know if she heard the emotion in his voice, but he'd suddenly gone soft inside and he couldn't do anything about it. Erika did that to him, and when he thought of her soft body pressed against his he didn't want to do anything except be with her.
She wanted her mother's love. It was natural to feel like that. He'd grown up in a loving family and couldn't imagine the life Erika must have had. Michael didn't want anyone to hurt her again, not even her mother. He'd be there to protect her. If Alva Redford had another agenda, Michael wanted to be there. If she had other plans, she'd have him to deal with.
***
Wanamaker's Department Store opened its downtown store at Thirteenth and Market Streets decades before any of the mall stores opened. Erika liked the Market Street store best. The building was old and distinctive, with chandeliers and huge display cases. Carlton had taken her there on her first shopping trip. The salesclerk had made her feel comfortable as she bought several pairs of jeans, three sweaters, and a jacket.
Today she needed a dress for dinner with her mother on Thanksgiving. Although she had a closet full of dresses at home, she needed something new to wear, something that would make her feel comfortable, less nervous. Dinner wasn't for another week, yet she was nervous already, and it didn't help that Michael had insisted on coming with her. He'd gone everywhere with her for the past few days. She admitted she loved being with him. All her vows of staying away from him, never allowing him to make love to her again turned to water the moment he looked at her.
She checked her reflection in the three walls of mirror. She'd tried on seven dresses, and had narrowed her search to two—a black, straight gown covered with sequins and a green velvet. The one she had on was Christmas green with simple lines. It had a stand-up collar and long sleeves, and fit her to the waist, where it flared out into a full skirt that stopped short of her knees. She turned, inspecting the back. Her pearls would look great with this. She opened the door and stepped out of the dressing room. Michael waited for her in the dress department.
"What do you think?" she asked moments later. He had his back to her, walking near the after five dresses like a man lost in the lingerie department. His eyes opened wide when he saw her.
"You're. . .it's beautiful," he said.
"Do you think it looks all right?"
The look on his face gave her his answer. He came close to her so no one could hear what he said and whispered, "You look go good I could make love to you right here."
Erika blushed, bowing her head and feeling the rush of excitement that coursed through her at the prospect of making love. "I'd better change," she said, going back to the dressing room.
Ten minutes later Michael took her box under his arm and led her away from the department. Erika noticed him looking around.
"Stop doing that," she said.
"Doing what?"
"Looking over your shoulder as if you're expecting someone to be there."
"I'm just being cautious. If Frank Mason has traced me here, I want to be prepared for him."
"If he did kill the judge and the lawyer, then he's probably miles away from here by now."
"You'd think any sane man would be, but Frank Mason isn't sane."
Erika didn't want to discuss Frank Mason. She wanted to have a good time shopping and spending the afternoon with Michael. "Let's go to the shoe department," she said, changing the subject. Michael didn't argue. He led her to the elevators and together they found shoes and other accessories she'd need for her monumental dinner.
When Michael had added three additional boxes and several bags to his load they went to the restaurant for lunch. They were shown to a quiet table in the back, away from the view of the entrance. Michael seemed to approve of the table, but he sat facing the room.
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Michael asked.
"I'm having a wonderful time."
He could see it. Her expression was animated and happy. He only wished he could feel just as carefree as she did. Erika had the advantage of never having met Frank Mason. Michael had seen the destructive nature of the man, and knew that he didn't care about killing in public.
The police had found nothing more to connect Frank with the two deaths, but Michael didn't like coincidences—Frank escaped and the judge and lawyer associated with his case had both been gruesomely killed.
"Michael," Erika said, calling him out of his musings. "You're ignoring me."
"I couldn't ignore you if I tried."
***
The four-wheel drive jeep, with mud covering it from his mountain trek, would have looked out of place on the quiet street where Michael Lawrence now lived. Frank knew that, and drove down the street in a rented Lexus. He saw the towering iron gates that protected a house too far from the street to be seen. He smiled. Neither the gates nor the guards will save Michael Lawrence, Frank thought. He and Michael had an appointment, and they were on a collision course in which Frank knew he'd be the victor.
He drove several miles until he found a place to eat, then stopped to kill time. He ordered a short meal and ate it leisurely before turning back toward the house again. He took in the six-foot stone wall that stretched for a mile before reaching the iron gates. The wall was easy enough to scale. The very length of it made it difficult to guard. Although there could be camera surveillance, Frank knew he could get around it. Michael Lawrence's time was coming.
And coming soon.
But first he had other business. He needed to talk to someone. Frank sped up as the mansion wall disappeared from his rearview mirror.
The lights of Center City came into view within half an hour. He drove down Broad Street to Chestnut, then headed over to the university. Parking was at a premium there, especially during the day. He parked in a nearby lot and walked the distance to the one of the small, cramped houses along Thirty-Eighth Street.
Getting inside was a snap. He knew the timing, knew the nurse would be away and he'd be alone. He sat in the living room, reading.
"Good afternoon, Counselor."
Malick Wainscott raised a white eyebrow at the arrival of an uninvited guest.
"I see an introduction would be unnecessary," he paused. "You can calm down. I'm not here for you."
"What the hell do you want?" Wainscott's face turned redder than its natural ruddy color.
"I have a message for Michael Lawrence, and I need you to give it to him."
"Do I look like a delivery boy?"
Frank thought the old man had guts. He was too incapacitated to do anything to protect himself if it had been Frank's intention to harm him, but he held his ground—or his chair, Frank thought.
Frank wasn't angered in the least although there was a time he would have beaten a man into submission for making a comment like that. Today he didn't need the old man's heart giving out before he'd completed his mission.
"Michael Lawrence. You know him." Frank stated fact, but the old man nodded, anyway. "He went to the mall today. Little shopping expedition. I guess they're getting a jump on the Christmas crowd."
Malick Wainscott's face gave nothing away at the news Frank had just given him. Frank had never seen him in court, but he thought he must have been awesome. Frank had watched the lawyers. It was a hobby of his, people watching. He'd studied his own lawyer and Abby's and the lawyers pleading other cases, cases he knew nothing about. He'd become an authority on who would win, who had the better argument, and who could keep their cool even when surprises were presented. Which one was getting through to the judge, and which one had only part of his attention. Malick Wainscott was the kind of lawyer who would win nine times out of ten. "What's the message?" he asked.
"Tell him I know where he is and he can't escape me. Adding guards to the estate won't save him or that pretty little heiress."
"Why do you want to harm Michael? He represented you."
"I'd love to stay and debate the pros and cons of Michael Lawrence's ability to represent me, but I have a previous appointment and your nurse should be back in. . .” He consulted his watch. "Five minutes," he finished. "Don't forget to give Mr. Lawrence my message. You have a nice day, now."
"Appointment where? What are you planning to do?"
Frank smiled. He loved seeing the strong grovel. It wasn't something he thought he'd see in Malick Wainscott, but then he was a loyal friend to Michael Lawrence, and Frank held loyalty high in his estimation of a person's worth. He liked Malick Wainscott.
"Don't worry. I'm not ready for Michael Lawrence yet, but soon. Soon." Frank saluted him and retraced his steps to the front door.
Malick reached for the phone the moment he heard the door close. Checking the window he saw Frank Mason walking down the street. His steps were even and unhurried. Malick may have had a reasonable doubt before, but it was gone now. Frank was definitely stalking Michael, and he had to let him know.
Dialing Michael's number he reached the maid, who told him Michael and Erika had not returned yet.
"I need them to call me the moment they return," he told her, unable to keep the excitement out of his voice. "No matter what time. I have to talk to Michael."
"I understand, Mr. Wainscott," the maid said.
Malick said good-bye and replaced the phone receiver. Frank Mason had a lot of nerve. He'd killed four people in the last three weeks and he walked around the streets as if he had a perfect right to mingle with law-abiding citizens. He didn't, and he had no right to leave messages for Michael. Malick felt his heart accelerate and he grabbed for his pills. Taking one, he waited for the pressure to calm down. Then, remembering his duty, Malick lifted the phone and dialed 9-1-1.
***
The blue and red flashing lights on the cars with Philadelphia Police Department written on the sides like a huge blue stencil caught Michael's attention the moment he and Erika turned the corner. Within seconds he was running toward Malick's house, Erika in tow.
He didn't stop to knock, but burst through the front door and looked around quickly.
"Is he all right?" he asked the nurse who stopped as he'd made his entrance.
"Yes," she said. "He's in there with the police." She pointed toward the living room area.
Michael immediately headed for it. Malick sat up in his favorite chair. Three uniformed policemen and two detectives stood in the room.
"Michael!" Malick called when he noticed him.
"What's going on here?" Michael addressed the question to the room.
"Are you Michael Lawrence?" one of the plainclothes men asked him in a voice that told him he was the leader of this small assembly.
Michael nodded.
"Mr. Wainscott here tells us he had a visitor this afternoon. It appears Frank Mason has been here."
"Here! Malick, are you all right?"
"I'm fine. He didn't harm me. He wanted me to deliver a message to you."
Erika, still holding his hand, squeezed it tighter.
"What message?"
Malick related the details of Frank's earlier visit while the policemen checked their notes to see that the story remained unchanged.
When Malick finished, one of the detectives said, "The murders referred to by Wainscott are out of our jurisdiction, but we'll be reporting the details of this incident to the New Jersey authorities."
"Is that all?" Erika spoke up.
"No, Ma'am. Mr. Mason is an escaped convict and we'll do everything we can to find him, but we don't have much to go on."
The second detective addressed Malick. "Do you have any idea where he might have been going when he left here?"
"No," Malick answered. "But he told me he was going to kill Michael. I suggest you give him some protection."
"We'll add more patrol cars to the areas around your house and your estate." He glanced at Michael and Erika. "But that's about all we can do."
"Thank you, Officer," Michael said. He knew there was little the police could do. They had budget problems, huge case loads and the size of the city were all public knowledge.
"If you remember anything you haven't told us," the detective went on, "please call." He handed Malick and Michael cards, then said good day.
"I'll see them to the door," Erika said. She led the way and the officers followed. Michael sat down across from Malick when they were alone.
"You look tired," he told his friend. "It must have been a long afternoon."
"It has been," said a voice from the door. The voice was strong and authoritative. Both men turned. The nurse, holding a small tray, stood there. Erika stood next to her. They came into the room.
"Mr. Wainscott has had too much excitement for one afternoon."
"Don't mind her," Malick said. "She's just feeling a little guilty. Frank came while she was out having the prescription filled."
The nurse looked hurt for a moment. Then she regained her composure and handed Malick a glass of water, followed by a small white cup with two pills in it. Malick took them without comment and drank the water.
"He's going to take a nap now," she said, leaving no area for argument by any of the room's occupants. "I'll have to ask you to leave."
"We understand," Erika said. Michael stood and she came to him, taking his arm.
"I don't think she'll ever leave me alone again," Malick said.
"Malick, I think you like the attention," Erika told him. She bent and kissed him on the cheek.
The old man smiled.
Michael smiled too, knowing nursing was only a cover. The credentials she held involved sharp shooting and intelligence. Michael was protecting those around him. Frank was tightening the rope and Michael needed to be prepared with a plan to foil his adversary’s.
Chapter 15
Erika turned in front of the mirror in her bedroom. Finally Thanksgiving had arrived, and they were going to dinner at her mother's. She wore the green velvet dress, a single strand of pearls, and pearl drop earrings. Her hand went to her belly and she took a deep breath. The butterflies had greeted her when she woke this morning and threatened to stay all day.
For the past week she hadn't had time to think about her mother, with Frank Mason at the top of her mind. Every day she and Michael had gone to see Malick. Each time they stepped outside the house or the office Erika
had the uneasy feeling of being watched. Although she never saw anyone, she knew someone's eyes were on her.
She shrugged it off, telling herself she had transferred Malick's experience to herself. She hadn't seen anyone and if Frank Mason knew what was good for him, he'd be long gone by now. She hadn't told Michael. It was just a feeling. There was nobody there.
Erika took one last look in the mirror and picked up her coat from the bed. Leaving the room, she went down the stair. Michael met her at the bottom.
"You look grand," he said. "Your mother will like the dress."
He was the most perceptive man she'd ever met. He knew even more than she did that she wanted the dress approved.
"Did you talk to your brothers?" she asked as he took her coat and held it while she slipped her arms inside it.
"They all send their love, and said you are missing the best walnut stuffing in the world."
Erika smiled. "It's not too late, Michael. I can go to my mother's alone. You can spend the day with your family."
"I spoke to my mother, too," he said, ignoring her comment. "She's still with my aunt and will not be returning until the holidays. We can miss one Thanksgiving, or if we leave early we can always show up for the sweet potato pie."
Michael held the door open for her and Erika walked out into the cold November afternoon. The wind hit her and she pulled her coat closer around her. Michael closed the door and they got into the car.
The staff had been given the day off except for the guards, so they drove themselves. Alva Redford lived in Springfield, a distance of about forty miles from central Philadelphia. Traffic was slow going through the city. Michael took Route 95 to the Blue Route. The road, a superhighway of rolling hills, generally packed with commuters on any other Thursday, was surprisingly deserted. Michael relaxed and the needle on the speedometer edged up a notch.
Legacy (Capitol Chronicles Book 5) Page 22