Where was Giselle?
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Jan gaped at Tyrone. “Earl’s mother is Mrs. Harder? The one who lives on West Bragg Road?”
Tyrone shrugged. “Somewhere around here.”
“Oh well, interesting.” Jan tried to smile as she backed her chair away from the boys’ table. Lacey and Chad followed her to the far side of the room. In a near-whisper she said, “Mrs. Harder had a whole basket of her dead husband’s cancer drugs. I accidentally photographed them in her spare room. They might be expired, but you can bet she learned how to use them while nursing him.”
Lacey said, equally low voiced, “She’s been here at least once. We brought her before all this started. She’s seen the layout from the air, too.”
“She’s been here a lot more than once,” Jan said. “Jake told me she’s been trying to make him her third husband.”
Chad’s head jerked between her and Lacey. “One woman by herself? I can take her if she comes in here.”
Lacey said, “Someone who looks weaker can dull your reflexes, slow you down. Don’t be fooled.”
Cold rage vibrated every cell in Jan’s body. “If you need motivation,” she told Chad, keeping her voice low by sheer willpower, “that woman killed Kitrin.”
Chad gawked. “Are you sure?”
“I bet if you saw her in one of Jake’s polo shirts, you’d remember seeing her that morning.” She pulled her laptop from her backpack. “I meant to show you this picture, anyway. It’s just the back of her head, but you might have seen her near the pool and assumed she was staff.” As she scrolled back through the collection of photos, Jan remembered speeding past the security office that morning and clipping the garage door onto the heels of someone in a staff polo shirt and hat. Two minutes earlier and she might have saved Kitrin’s life.
Lacey’s phone rang. When she’d answered it, she told them, “The generator building’s on fire. I have to go. You two stay here, and keep the doors locked!”
She hadn’t been gone two minutes when a particularly loud crash of thunder started the lights flickering. Jan and Chad looked at each other, and at the boys. Chad turned on his phone flashlight as the lights flickered again and then died.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
The rain slashed at Lacey’s face as she crossed the terrace outside the guest suite. Six more windows and two more doors to check here. All were locked. She headed down to the third terrace, battling a gale determined to push her up. The drop-off beyond the railing, hundreds of metres down to the flailing spruces along the river, took her right back to Capilano Gorge. It had rained that afternoon, too. She and Chad between them had saved the child but lost the woman and carried their own scars ever since. Today, she was determined everybody would stay alive. No new scars.
Lightning cracked almost on top of her. The hillside shook with its thunder. Lights deep in the games room flickered. A moment later, they vanished. The backup generator should be starting automatically, but not today. The timing of that fire was not coincidental; the generator house was a double-duty distraction, drawing away all available staffers and ensuring there would be no backup power. She tried the first set of doors into the workout area. Locked. Wiping the rain from her face, she went under the overhang and found the next door unlocked. Had there been time for Giselle to get down here and into the house? Surely not. They’d all been in there, with a clear view of the lower terrace, until ten minutes ago. She reached through, turned the lock, and shut the door.
As she headed back up the steps, the wind alternately lifted her and tried to flatten her. Yet for all its force, the storm was ebbing. A wedge of blue sky widened between two mountain peaks. In the lee of the upper pool’s high walls, she double-checked the glass doors near the security office and carried on to the gate beside the garage. There she paused, one hand on the wrought-iron crossbar. Right here, the murderer of Kitrin Devine had passed. Today she’d returned, hoping to kill Kitrin’s son. She could not succeed.
Hurrying along to the front door’s portico, Lacey phoned the security office. “Anything?”
“Not since the stables. She may have slipped out the back gate during the worst lightning.”
“Keep checking that terrace camera outside the guest suite. Anybody goes near it, yell.”
The rain eased as Lacey worked her way around the outer pool walls. Everywhere, trees dripped and leaves rustled. The waterfall’s plash greeted her at the farther pool gate, but the area remained empty. She replaced a striped chaise cushion and headed for the upper terrace, casting a longing glance at the bridge far below. No flickering lights yet. Surely the RCMP would be here soon. They could bring in dogs, track Giselle to wherever she was lurking or back to her vehicle. Giselle wouldn’t yet know she’d been identified. She might go home and try to brazen it out. Then they’d have her.
Across the upper terrace Lacey went, testing windows and doors to Jake’s private suite. All locked. The double doors to the great room were locked. She peered in, but nothing moved in the gloom. Next came an alcove with two matching chaises. Above them were identical windows that glowed with yellow light from candles or lanterns. Jake’s study. Had anybody told him what was going on? She was the senior security person; it was up to her. If he was awake, not napping on his couch.
The left window was wound slightly open. She stepped onto the nearest chaise to peer in but had barely got her fingers on the sill when a woman said, “Of course I’m relieved Orrin’s been found.”
Lacey cautiously raised her head. Giselle Harder sat in a leather armchair, vivid in a bright pink blouse. A pink and orange paisley scarf hid her short auburn hair. From the messenger bag at her feet protruded the sleeve of a grey windbreaker. While the whole security team was hunting her, Giselle was holed up in the one room no staff member ever entered without an invitation.
Giselle’s eyes met Lacey’s with a look of mild irritation. “Why is someone peering in your window?”
Jake’s grizzled head turned. “Lacey?”
Lacey’s mind raced. Did she blurt out that he was harbouring a murderer? It suddenly struck her that Giselle didn’t know who she was, much less that she knew about the earlier attacks. Finally, an advantage! The woman would sit right there, unsuspecting, until Lacey got indoors to subdue her.
“Sorry to disturb you, sir. I’m doing a perimeter check after the storm. This is the only window left open.”
He nodded. “Thanks.”
She scrambled down to the wet paving stones and hurried around to let herself in by the pool doors. In the security room she said to the duty guard, “She’s inside, with Jake. Call everyone up to cover the house exits. I want Travis outside the study windows. I’m going to flush her out.”
But when she opened the study door, Giselle was gone. “Where is she?”
Jake looked up. “She went down to say hi to Tyrone. Are they still in the games room?”
Lacey didn’t bother explaining. She ran.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Jan carried a second lamp to the boys’ table, mainly to disguise her nervous pacing. The constant motion would drain her energy reserves, but then she’d already burned a lot in her simmering rage at Earl’s mother. Chad kept checking the windows and doors through the curtains. They should have gone upstairs, straight to Jake. They’d be safe with him. Down here, they couldn’t see anything but the terrace or hear anything but the pelting rain. What was Lacey doing out there? Had she found Giselle yet?
Michael said, “It’s not dark outside. We wouldn’t need another lamp if you opened the curtains.”
“Not right now,” said Jan firmly. “I … I’m scared of the lightning. When it’s over we can open them.”
A tap came on the hallway door. She froze. Chad whipped across the room on silent feet. “Who’s there?”
“Ty? It’s Mommy. Can I come in?”
Tyrone glanced up. “Sure.”
“The door’s locked. Come and open it.”
Ty
rone was coiling red clay onto a robot and didn’t answer. Jan listened hard. She’d only heard a few words from Sloane at the dinner last week.
She leaned over. “Are you sure that’s your mother? Does she really sound that high pitched?”
Tyrone shrugged.
The woman outside said, “Ty, honey?”
Chad beckoned Jan over. “You open the door when I say,” he whispered, “and if it’s that Harder woman, I’ll grab her the instant she steps inside.”
“Are you sure? What if she’s got a gun?”
“She doesn’t know we’re on to her.”
“Let me call Lacey first.”
“Ty? Baby, you’re scaring me. Open the door.”
Both boys were staring at Jan, waiting for her to open that door. Should she tell them there was danger, or try to bluff it out? Grabbing an amethyst carving of a mother and child off the nearest end table — the closest thing to a weapon she could see — she put her hand on the knob. “Ready?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
When she heard the scream, Lacey was halfway down the main stairs. She leaped the last five steps and skidded across the parquet floor, bounced off the library entrance, and raced down the dim hall. The guest suite’s door was open, spilling lamplight and shadows. She burst in.
Sloane Caine, gripping a chair-back, yelled at Chad. “What were you thinking? You scared me half to death!”
Jan said, “Sorry. So sorry. Calm down, please. You’re scaring the boys.”
Lacey yelled over the noise. “What happened?”
All the faces turned toward her. Chad said, “I grabbed her. I thought she was —”
Sloane stared past Lacey. “Giselle?”
The red-headed woman stood in the doorway, her eyes fixed on the two boys. “Tyrone,” she said in a soft voice. “Are you feeling okay?”
“No thanks to you,” Jan screeched and hurled the statue. As the crystal cracked on the wall beside her, Giselle ran.
“Lock that door!” Lacey yelled as she followed.
The older woman darted into the library. She snatched an afghan off a chair and flung it. Lacey batted it aside, only to trip over a coffee table. As she staggered, Giselle sprinted out to the drenched terrace. She was out of sight in seconds.
Lacey limped outside. The terrace stairs were ringing. She followed the sound up, her boots skidding on the wet treads. Giselle scurried across the pool terrace, her feet slipping in the puddles. As Lacey closed the gap, she upended a chaise. Lacey leaped over it, but it cost her precious seconds.
Travis appeared at the perimeter gate. Giselle veered toward the waterfall. Rushing over the little bridge, she started down the far side of the pool. As Lacey followed her, another security guard appeared at the garage gate. Giselle reversed course, saw Lacey cutting her off, and leaped straight at the rock wall.
She went up the slick stones like a lizard: hand, foot, hand, foot. Lacey jumped, snatching at her arm, and caught her trailing scarf instead. Giselle jerked free, abandoning the paisley, and scrambled higher. She plucked a loose stone from the waterfall and heaved it at Lacey. Dodging, Lacey grabbed her ankle, boots skittering on the wet bridge.
Giselle’s hand slipped. For a moment she hung one handed, and then she twisted, catlike, to leap at Lacey. They landed in the pool with a huge splash.
Lacey surfaced, shaking the water from her eyes, to see Giselle floundering toward the house. She dove and took the woman’s feet out from under her. Then, as Giselle flailed, Lacey took her in a headlock. She walked backward through the water, towing her prisoner with cold satisfaction, dodging the clawing hands as the older woman struggled. Earl had dragged her by her neck in the security office. Now it was her turn.
After a vicious swipe of Giselle’s nails over her bruised cheek, Lacey shook the woman hard. “Do that again and you’ll be breathing underwater.”
By the time the stairs hit the back of her boots, Travis was beside her. He grabbed one of Giselle’s arms, and together they yanked her up the steps. They plunked her down on a chaise. The duty guard loomed up on the other side. Above their heads, golden sunlight flooded through a break in the clouds. Up from the valley came the welcome sound of sirens. It was over.
EPILOGUE
Lacey propped her bare feet up on Jan’s deck rail and surveyed the mountain peaks, their shadows stark against the primrose and pink sunset. The valley below and all the treed wilderness as far as the eye could see seemed to be relaxing with the advent of autumn. She said to Dee and Jan, lounging nearby, “We won’t be able to sit outside without jackets much longer. Hard to believe two weeks ago we were baking, and it was still full daylight at this hour.”
“Yell if you need a jacket,” said Jan, “or want to borrow a pair of socks.”
Dee stretched. “I can’t believe I missed the whole thing. You guys were totally rocking the investigation stuff, and I had my head down shuffling real estate paper.” Rob bustled out with a tray that he plunked down beside the barbecue and fluttered around the table, rearranging napkins. As he hurried back indoors, she added, “He’s a little nervous tonight.”
Jan said, “You would be too if your boyfriend and his wife were coming for supper.”
Dee smiled lazily. “Never happen. I avoid the slightest potential for melodrama. I’m glad they’ll get to meet again under better circumstances, though.”
“I think they’ll get along fine,” said Lacey. “Andy’s really sweet when you get to know her, and everyone adores Rob.”
“Clash of the adorbs,” said Dee. “Is the hot, single mountain climber coming, too? Gotta keep those options open.”
Lacey wiggled her toes. “He’s not an option as long as he’s sleeping with his brother’s wife.”
“But you can still climb with him,” said Jan. “You don’t want to give that up.”
“When nobody’s trying to kill me, sure.” Lacey grinned. “Right now, I’m still into the joy of having totally clean teeth.”
“And yet you’re about to stain them with red wine,” said Dee, “only four hours after you finally got them cleaned.”
A car door slammed. Jan turned her head, and the dogs sat up to look hopefully toward the drive. “That’ll be the Caine gang now.”
Instead, a lone man rounded the corner. His hair was short, almost military. He wore jeans and a blue sweatshirt with a heavy metal logo.
Terry looked up. “Ray, good to see you, man. Come and meet my wife.” The newcomer shook Jan’s hand. “And Lacey of course you know.”
Lacey squinted. Ray seemed familiar, but the context was wrong.
He grinned at her. “Hi, McCrae.”
The voice gave it away. “Markov?”
“Yep.” He accepted a glass of red wine from Rob.
Lacey said, “Your given name is Ray? With a last name like yours, I expected it to be Vladimir or something else Eastern European.”
“It’s really Rayko, but don’t tell the guys at work.”
While Lacey adjusted to Ray in his civilian disguise, Dee told him, “I’m so happy to see you again, and in warmer weather than when you drove my car last winter.”
“I’m happy to see your leg has recovered,” said Ray.
Dee waved that aside. “It would be tactless to bring up all the criminal matters once the Caine twins get here, but I’m dying to know about the case against Earl and his mother. Whatever you can tell me, that is.”
Ray glanced at Lacey. “You haven’t told them everything?”
“I don’t know everything. Not on the Force, remember?” She thought she’d figured most of it out, but Ray might have something she’d missed. She looked at Dee. “What do you want to know most?”
“Everything! Start with why Earl was finally charged with conspiracy to commit murder after Ray wouldn’t arrest him on your word.”
Ray shrugged. “Finding that external hard drive in his Jeep sealed it. He probably intended to drop it and the balaclava down a gully far, far from the ranch as soon a
s he’d taken care of Orrin. If Lacey and Ben hadn’t arrived when they did, from a direction he wasn’t expecting, he’d have succeeded.”
“Let’s see if I’ve got this right,” said Lacey. “Not only did that external drive implicate Earl in the attack on me, it also got you a warrant for his phone and text records.”
“Not me personally.”
Lacey gave him a look. “You know I meant the Major Crimes Unit. Those led you, er, them, straight to his mother, which rendered her alibi for him suspect, and earned a warrant for her phone, too, leading to the conspiracy charge.”
Ray nodded. “The GPS on his phone put him up this road when Kitrin died, and the one on Orrin’s vehicle placed that right outside Jake’s.”
Jan pressed her thumb into the crease between her eyebrows. “So when I saw his vehicle that morning on my way in, he was waiting for his mother while she was killing Kitrin?”
“Exactly,” said Ray. “Twenty minutes, right over the time Kitrin Devine was killed. Travis, the guard, identified both Earl’s vehicle and Giselle Harder, whom he’d admitted to the grounds because she was driving a convertible belonging to Mr. Wyman. Not that Earl’s admitted to any knowledge of his mother’s actions.”
Jan groaned. “I wasted so much time hunting for Kitrin in the house. If I’d thought to go straight to the pool, I could have stopped her.”
Dee patted her arm. “They’d have found another way. Still, it was a huge risk for Giselle Harder to take. A staff member could have walked in at any time.”
Why the Rock Falls Page 31