Down and Dead in Even: (A Quick-Read) (Down and Dead, Inc.)

by Vicki Hinze

  Caroline guffawed. “You’re delusional. There’s nothing weak or fragile about her. You tried your best to make her so, but she’s not. Yet, if you’re here asking me where she is then that must mean . . . Oh dear. You’ve lost her? Again?” Caroline chuckled under her breath, knowing it would infuriate him. Go, Christine!

  “I would think you’d tell me. She’s been behaving in an erratic manner. My attorney is urging me to have her committed for psychological testing—to assure she isn’t a danger to herself.”

  “Well now, that’s hard to do when you don’t know where she is, isn’t it?” Caroline asked, filling her voice with mirth. He’d revealed his strategy. It was a good one, but revealed, they would counter it so it met only with a dead-end. Big mistake on his part. “Sounds like your lawyer’s just racking up billable hours. You have zero chance of getting her committed.”

  “He disagrees.”

  “He would, now wouldn’t he?” She cocked her head. “I thought you were smarter than to buy into something that transparent. Humph. Guess not.”

  He ground his teeth, let his words ooze out, dripping venom. “You could spare her a lot of painful entanglements by telling me where she is.”

  “What part of ‘I don’t know’ do you not understand? I can’t tell you what I don’t know, Martin. But, for the record, your threats don’t work here. Even if I knew exactly where she was, you’d be the last person I’d tell. You’re nothing more than a cowardly wife-beater.”

  His face burned red and a vein bulged in his neck. Caroline had seen that telltale bulge too often to not recognize it as a precursor to rage that resulted in intense pain. She’d goaded him, but seeing his reaction rattled her confidence.

  “You talk to her. I know you do.”

  Every instinct in her warned her to run. She wanted to but somehow, she stood her ground. “What I do, or don’t do, is none of your business. You need to leave now.”

  “Be warned, Christine. I’ve been significantly inconvenienced, and I’m sick of it. You tell your sister she has until Valentine’s Day to get home. If she has any sense at all, she’d better be there.”

  Anger rose from deep inside her. So deep she couldn’t say where it even started, but it threatened to explode. Caroline refused to tamp it down. Refused to cower. She feared him, but she equally resented him, and she’d had enough. She crossed her arms and locked her knees. “Or what?” Caroline demanded. “Are you threatening her, Martin?”

  He shook with anger but paused before answering. When he did, his voice grated at her ear, lethally soft and menacing. “I’ll never stop hunting her. Do you hear me? Never. She’ll live with me or . . .”

  “Or what?” Mindful of Nell with her recorder, of Alex whose stance had stiffened, she pushed him to lose control and damn himself with his own mouth. “What are you going to do?”

  He opened his mouth to shout, caught himself and nailed her with a withering glare. “Just tell her. Valentine’s Day.” Unsatisfied with his tempered response, he added, “Tell her . . . Pepper.”

  “Pepper.” It took everything she had not to crumble, to fake ignorance of his meaning. “What’s that supposed to mean? You’re going to make her sneeze?”

  “Just tell her.” He met her eyes and didn’t flinch.

  “Is that your code word? Are you warning her that you’re going to kill her?”

  “Of course not.” His dark eyes glittered. “She’s my wife.”

  Caroline needed more. On the record. “You lost her so you’re warning her that you’re coming after me to hurt her and force her to surface. Is that your plan, Martin?”

  No answer. But she saw his surprise in his eyes that she’d pegged his intent.

  Defiantly, Caroline stepped toward him. “If that is your plan—to come after me—let me remind you that I am not my sister. I’m not afraid of you. You’re standing on my property under her protection. But mess with me, and I will hold you accountable for every single thing you’ve done to hurt her.” Caroline narrowed her eyes, let him see her anger and held it so he wouldn’t miss it. “You might hold this thought, too. Caroline got all the forgiveness genes. I go straight for the jugular every time.”

  He stepped back. “Pepper,” he repeated. “Home by Valentine’s Day—or she will regret it.”

  “That was indeed a threat. We’re done here.” She looked past him. “Alex, please escort Mr. Easton off my property.” She pursed her lips. “Martin, don’t come back. You’re not welcome here.”

  Pushed too far, he inched toward her. She didn’t retreat. “Go for it. Please.”

  “Mr. Easton, stop,” Alex called out, and Martin instinctively looked back at him. “Don’t do anything you’ll regret.” Alex motioned. “Come with me, please. Now.”

  Torn, he feared Alex more, yet he couldn’t resist a parting shot. “Tell her.”

  Neither could she. “You lost. Accept it.” Caroline backed into the house staring him down then shut the door.

  When the locks clicked into place, she collapsed in a heap on the marble floor and clasped her hands against her face. Her heart pounded against her ribs, threatening to burst from her chest. Oh, God. Oh, God. Had she really just threatened him? She had. And it’d felt . . . good. But at what cost? Had she become like him?

  Nell rushed over to her. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded, not yet able to speak. Her emotions were in full riot.

  “I got it all on the recorder.” Nell paused, clearly perplexed. “You handled him well. Why are you freaking out now?”

  “He still scares me.”

  “That’s normal, but you stood up to him.”

  “No, I didn’t. Christine did.” Big difference. “For a second, I worried. Am I becoming him?”

  “No. Absolutely not. You defended yourself. No more than that.”

  “You’re sure?” Caroline wasn’t sure. She’d said and meant what she’d said, but she’d goaded him, too. It was as if the dam of things she’d repressed out of necessity broke loose. She’d said exactly what she’d wanted to say to him. Victim no more. It was the first confrontation where she’d actually felt she’d held her own. Maybe she was still a victim. But she felt like less of one. Was that progress? It had to be progress.

  “Question,” Nell said. “It’s three days until Christmas. Why not then—or now, for that matter—for his wife to return to him. Why Valentine’s Day?”

  “We met on Valentine’s Day.” Caroline said, a tremble in her voice. “It’s also an anniversary.”

  “I thought you married in the summer.”

  “Not our wedding anniversary.” Memories of the incident crowded in, robbing her of breath, and tears threatened. “Pepper.”

  Nell looked down at her, her confusion clear. “I heard him reference Pepper. Loved your sneeze comeback. But what’s that about?”

  “Pepper was my dog.” Caroline swiveled her gaze to meet Nell’s. “I’d tried to leave Martin and he caught me. He beat me and I swore while he did it that as soon as I healed I’d leave him again. He swore I wouldn’t and killed Pepper.”

  “On Valentine’s Day.”

  She nodded.

  “That’s one evil Valentine.” Understanding dawned in Nell. “He really is a monster.”

  “Yes. And I married him.” He was the master of manipulation; vicious and cruel, and an Oscar-worthy actor with an evil heart.

  “You divorced him, too,” Nell reminded her. “Though he didn’t seem to know it’s already final.”

  “Oh, he knows. Martin is his own law,” Caroline said. “He’s refusing to accept the divorce. That’s why he’s really here. His men haven’t lost my sister. Martin’s marking his territory, trying to intimidate me into getting her to return home.”

  “That explains the Pepper reminder. It was a threat.”

  “Exactly. Him putting us on notice.” Caroline nodded, thinking. “One thing is clear. We have to call off Operation Switch and Bait. Right now.”

  “You can’t do th
at.”

  “I have to, Nell.” Caroline swiped her hair from her face. “Look, it’s been six months. I’ve divorced him and healed a lot. It’s going to have to be enough.” She wrung her hands. “He meant what he said. He’ll kill my sister, and make me live to regret it.”

  “Nobody’s dead yet.” She extended a hand. “Here, let me help you up.” Tugging, she helped Caroline to her feet. “We need a restraining order to slow him down. With the recording, and you explaining about Pepper, getting one shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “Another piece of paper is not going to stop him. He said he’ll never stop hunting me, and he won’t.”

  “Are you saying the only way out of this is for both you and your sister to disappear?”

  “I can’t let her do that.” Caroline paced, went to the table and poured herself a fresh cup of coffee. “The only way I’ll ever be free of that man is to die—preferably before he kills my sister or me.”

  Nell sat back down at the table. She sat still a long moment, then in a quiet voice asked, “Are you willing to do that?”

  Christine stopped, her cup mid-air. “Die?”

  Nell nodded and lifted a hand. “Not literally. Figuratively.”

  “You mean, fake my death and start over somewhere?” That would resolve her problem and her sister would be safe. Death was the only thing that would ever stop Martin. Hers or his, and she wasn’t yet ready to become a murderer—and she didn’t want Christine to become one, either. Her figurative death appealed a lot more than her literal death. “Yes. I am.”

  “You’re certain?” Nell asked. “Once you decide, there’s no going back—ever.”

  Caroline thought a long moment. “There’s no other way out for me. Not one that assures me Christine won’t ruin or lose her life trying to save mine.” Caroline set her cup down. “I’m sure.”

  Nell nodded. “Well, after seeing the man and hearing him, I have to agree that he won’t stop. But death is a big step. Why don’t you take some time and think it over. Like I said, there’s no going back.”

  “We don’t have time, Nell,” Caroline said. “Time won’t change anything, anyway. He’ll come and keep coming until he gets what he wants.” It wasn’t a coincidence that he showed up this close to Christmas. He expected that she and her sister would be together for Christmas. “Bottom line is he’s destroyed this life. A fresh one is my best hope.” She swallowed hard. “But I need to know if this is a pipe dream or . . . is it really possible?”

  “It is really possible.” Nell cocked her head. “Ordinarily, I’d advise against it. But in special circumstances . . . well, you’re there. He’s determined to control you even if it destroys you both, and he has the money and power to make it happen.”

  “He always has been determined,” Caroline said. “Now you’re getting a glimpse of why, money aside, just walking out wasn’t possible.”

  “I am.” Nell paused to wrestle with something she didn’t share, then added. “Since you’re sure, I have a friend I want you to meet.”

  Surprise rippled up Caroline’s back. “You’re sending me to a hitman?”

  “Actually, I’m sending you to a chef.” Nell smiled. “I’ll set up a meeting for tomorrow at ten—before the lunch crush.”

  “Where?”

  “Magnolia Hills.”

  Classy place. “It’s the hottest restaurant in Dallas and you think you can get a reservation for lunch tomorrow?” Six weeks was more like it.

  “Ten o’clock.” Nell grabbed her purse and snitched another muffin. “I’ll meet you there.”

  “All right. Do you think I should call my sister?”

  “It’s not Saturday.” Nell headed for the door. “But she needs to know Martin’s heating up. I wouldn’t mention your own plans until they’re firm. She’ll rush back here and that could get messy with Martin in town.”

  “Agreed.” Christine would love the fresh start part, but the fake death . . . she would never be on board with that. She’d fight him to the death, and that’s what Caroline had to avoid. Christine stood her ground, but she fought fair. Martin was ruthless and vile and won no matter what it took. Knowing it, Caroline had to protect her sister from herself and from Martin. “We’ll keep my plans to ourselves—for now.”

  FOUR

  DRESSED IN CHRISTINE’S vibrant red dress rather than in her preferred muted tones, Caroline appeared in front of Magnolia Hills promptly at ten o’clock and waited for Nell beside a pristine white 1929 Duisenberg parked in the upscale restaurant’s expansive entrance. The goons had followed her, of course, but stood a respectable distance away, near a large bank of glass doors.

  Nell arrived and amazingly, the elegant hostess escorted them right in and to a discreet table likely reserved for notable regulars. They took their seats.

  “I’ll let Jackson know you’re here,” the hostess said, and then wended through the scattered white-clothed tables toward the kitchen.

  Caroline placed her bag on the wooden floor at her feet, glancing appreciatively at the plantation-styled dining room. Three huge, live magnolias stood in its center. “Nell, before Jackson arrives, I need to tell you something.”

  She settled in and then folded her hands atop the table and waited for Caroline to speak.

  A man wearing crisp black-and-white served them water. “Your waiter will be with you in a moment.” He passed them menus.

  “Thank you,” Caroline said to his retreating back.

  “What is it?” Nell asked. “No more trouble with Martin, I hope.”

  “No, Alex has a friend keeping tabs on him. I expect a text in a few minutes telling me he’s followed me here.” He stayed in Dallas, proving he believed she and her sister would be getting together for Christmas—which was exactly why they were not. Nothing else explained him choosing to show up now. The divorce had been final for nearly a month. “This is about me and Jackson. I’m going to talk to him as myself.”

  Nell frowned. “Is that wise?”

  “Don’t you trust him?” The smell of lemon wafted to her. And caramel.

  “With my life,” Nell said, “or we wouldn’t be sitting here. But I’m not sure—”

  “I am.” Caroline interrupted, then dropped her voice. “I can’t do what I’m thinking of doing here as my sister. That’s just not fair or right.” She splayed her linen napkin in her lap. “The divorce is final. I’ve done the work on myself. It’s time, and she needs her life back.”

  “I get it. Death is final.” Nell nodded. “Okay. Okay, it makes sense.”

  “Good.” Caroline had expected more objections from Nell and that she hadn’t gotten them showed that Nell too thought it was time for Caroline to take back the reins to her life.

  A man Caroline’s age, wearing black slacks and a chef’s white jacket, joined them. “Hi, Nell.” He bent down and brushed his lips to her cheek.

  Gorgeous guy. Blond, square but not stubborn jaw, and bright eyes, full of life. Instinctively, she sensed he wasn’t the kind of man you dared to cross and survived unscathed. “Hello,” Caroline said.

  “Jackson Grant,” he said, offering his hand. “You must be . . . Nell’s friend.”

  “Caroline,” she said, a bit surprised Nell hadn’t told him a name. She shouldn’t have been. Nell had given her space to get to the right place herself, but she’d prepared the way so that Caroline could. Vintage, Nell. And one less explanation required.

  He sat down. “I understand you’re in a fix and could use a little help.”

  “Yes, I am—though the fix isn’t as bad as it once was and I’ve divorced the man who made it so awful.”

  Confusion wrinkled his brow. “Then what’s the issue?”

  “I forfeited a lot on the settlement and he couldn’t stop the divorce, but he refuses to accept it.”

  “He’s fighting for control of you, then.” Jackson’s broad shoulders tilted. “Active threats?”

  “Yes.” Her phone chimed. The expected text. “He’s had two men f
ollowing me for six months. He showed up at the ranchette yesterday himself, threatening me.”

  “Did you call the police?”

  Nell sat silent but watchful. Caroline looked back at Jackson. “Another restraining order was issued against him this morning.”

  “Another one?” Jackson frowned. “How many do you have against him?”

  “Between him and his henchmen, an assortment of nine. They’ve been issued in three states across nine counties.”

  Jackson frowned his thoughts on that. “He ignores them.”

  “They all do, but just enough to stay out of jail,” Nell interjected. “Martin Easton has a long history as an abuser, Jackson. In the months before Caroline left him, he grew more violent and controlling, and the incidents occurred more frequently.”

  “Hospital records, then?”

  “No.” Caroline lowered her gaze. “I needed one multiple times but he denied me access.”

  “Understood.” Jackson frowned. “How frequently—at the end, before you left?”

  “Two or three times a week. New bruises on the old.” Admitting all this was humiliating. But it couldn’t be helped. Jackson needed to know what he was going up against, and why this drastic action she was about to take was her last-chance option. “It was always something. Moving things, hiding them to make me search and search, thinking I’d lost my mind. Verbal jabs. Threats for things I might intend to do or not do.” She glanced at the tops of the magnolia trees. “In my last months there, I can’t remember an uneventful day.”

  “No peace,” Jackson said, proving his grasp and sharp insight.

  “No peace.” Oh, how she’d craved it.

  Nell covered Jackson’s hand on the table. “He’s dangerous, Jackson.”

  He looked from her to Caroline, and she said, “What Nell is trying to say is that he’ll keep coming after me until I either go back into the abusive relationship or he kills me. Nothing else will satisfy him.”

  “If you won’t live with him, he won’t let you live without him. What a guy.” Jackson sighed, looked away, and then asked a few more questions. He listened carefully to her answers, to Nell’s input, then asked some more. When he ran out of questions, he summed up his findings: “Sometimes to live, ya gotta die.”