by Rebecca York
His name came out as a sob. She felt tears clouding her vision and dashed her hand across her face. She couldn’t start bawling now. She had to be able to see, or she’d get into an accident.
Was that the terrible irony of this whole situation? She was charging off to save Jack, only she was going to get herself killed again?
She forced herself to slow down and pay attention to her driving. Yet fear for Jack was like a burning brand inside her.
She’d lost him once. Now it looked like she’d screwed up their relationship with her time-travel revelation. But she could still save his life.
Or die trying?
She banished that scenario from her mind. She had a chance to turn everything around. If she did it right this time.
But what was right? She couldn’t rush in there. She had to be smart. And, much as she didn’t want to admit it, maybe smart was calling the cops.
Or was she wrong about this whole situation? What if it turned out this wasn’t the day at all? Last time she’d known Jack for a month. This time it was only a little more than a week.
* * *
IT WAS LATE AFTERNOON by the time Jack turned onto Willow Lane and slowed as he surveyed his surroundings. Most of the houses here had probably been built about seventy-five years ago. But some of the older homes were being torn down and replaced by newer ones. He drove by the entrance to the property where Ted had called from. It had a long driveway, and he couldn’t see much from the road, but he was pretty sure he spotted Ted’s car in front of the old house.
Niggling doubts about what he’d find up there made him drive about a hundred yards along Willow, then pull into a place where the shoulder widened out into a little clearing in the woods.
Just to be on the safe side, he’d leave the car here and approach through the woods, then circle around to the back of the property.
As he started through the trees, his plan was hampered by the second-growth forest, which was thick with brambles and probably poison ivy, although the latter hadn’t leafed out yet.
Still, the tangled underbrush slowed his progress, particularly since he was trying to make as little noise as possible. And when he stepped into a hidden hole, he almost lost his balance.
About halfway there, he cursed himself for taking this route, but going back would be as difficult as going forward.
Finally the house was only about twenty yards ahead across a stretch of weedy grass.
From the shadows under the trees, he surveyed the scene. The one-story dwelling was a type common in older areas of the county. A rectangular cinder-block structure covered with a stuccolike composition. The windows were small, and he could see no lights inside. What if Ted wasn’t even there?
Taking out his cell phone, he dialed his brother’s number. This time there was no answer, and his only option was to get to the house. Or leave.
And what? Call the police.
He recalled the scene with Sara. He’d been so sure that his brother meant him no harm, yet now that he was here, he didn’t like the setup at all.
Moving as quickly as he could with his bad leg, he crossed the stretch of ground between the woods and the yard.
Through a grimy window, he could see into what must be the living room. In the far corner, he made out Ted sitting in a chair, his head down. He didn’t move. Although Jack couldn’t see him clearly, he thought his brother might be ill. Was he on drugs or something? Was that it?
Jack had thought he’d go in through the back, but now he was worried about Ted. Crossing to the door, he tried the knob. The door was open, and he stepped directly into the living room.
Ted looked up, panic in his eyes and a red splotch across his face. “Get out of here,” he mouthed.
Jack was trying to process the words when he felt something cold and hard against his back and knew it was the barrel of a gun.
“Put your hands up. Slowly.”
Chapter Nineteen
Sara slowed as she approached the Willow Lane property. Craning her neck, she looked up the driveway and saw Ted’s car. When she spotted Jack’s Lexus up the lane, she breathed out a small sigh. At least he hadn’t charged in there without thinking. It looked like he was being cautious. Thank the Lord.
She pulled in behind him and started to climb out. When she’d come in to replace the lamp, she hadn’t taken her phone, but it had been charging in the car.
Decision time.
She’d been so focused on saving Jack that she hadn’t thought through any plan of action. All she’d thought was that she’d get here and make everything come out all right. But maybe that wasn’t totally realistic.
She pulled a business card out of her pocket, looked at the number and dialed.
She had thought she might get an answering machine, but instead the man she’d called answered.
“Detective Montgomery.”
“This is Sara Carter.”
“Ms. Carter. What can I do for you?”
“We don’t have much time to talk. I know you thought something weird was going on. You were right. Someone has lured Jack to an isolated location to kill him. I’ve just arrived. The address is 463 Willow Lane. An old house the Morgans own. I’m going up there.”
“Who lured Jack there?”
“His brother. And now I have to go save Jack.”
The detective’s voice turned hard. “Do not put yourself in danger.”
“Sorry. No time to argue about it. I guess you’d better come and stop me,” she said, as she clicked off.
She had no idea if Montgomery would get there in time, and she had no intention of waiting to find out.
Climbing out of the car, she peered into the woods. It would be dark soon, and nobody would see her if she approached through the trees. But the wood lot was a tangle of unruly underbrush.
Instead of taking that route, she opted for the gravel access road that led to the house, sticking close to the tree line as she headed for the dwelling. Ted’s car was parked in front.
And another one in the woods.
Jack had said his brother wasn’t the killer. But Ted could be working with someone, and they were both here to overpower Jack.
Her heart was pounding as she quickened her pace, stopping and studying the setup when she came to the open ground.
The house was typical of the older ones in the county. In fact, she was pretty sure it was just like the one she had rented after she’d found out she was pregnant.
Staring across the weedy lawn between the trees and the house, she estimated her chances of getting there without being detected.
If she dashed across the open space and the killer looked out the window, she was going to get caught. But crawling would take much longer, and she had to figure that Jack was already in there—and in trouble.
“Here goes nothing,” she whispered, then darted across the open space between the woods and the house. As she pressed against the wall, she struggled to control her breathing. When she was no longer gasping for air, she started moving toward a window.
Cautiously, she looked in and saw Jack standing with his hands in the air.
His back was to her, and another man was standing to the side, holding a gun. She took a quick survey of the room, watching Jack remove his cell phone and put it on a low table before crossing the room and sitting down in a chair beside his brother.
The other man followed Jack’s progress with the gun, and she was afraid he’d see her if she stayed where she was. Ducking below the level of the windows, she made her way around the house, to the other side.
At the back of the house, Sara hurried to the door and turned the knob. Apparently the guy had been thinking about escape routes, because the door wasn’t locked. Or maybe vandals had done it.
Sara opened the door and stepped into the kitchen.
Through the window, she’d seen that Jack and the other two men were in the living room, which was down a short hallway.
Cautiously she crept toward them, st
opping just out of sight and waiting to find out what was happening.
* * *
HIS LIPS SET IN A GRIM LINE, Jack did as he was told. From where he sat in the chair beside Ted, he tried to rearrange his thinking as he stared up into the face of Dick MacDonald, the family broker.
“Dick?” he asked. “What’s going on?”
MacDonald didn’t answer.
Ted shifted in his seat. “He made me call you.”
“Why?”
Ted licked his lips. “He’s stolen money from the firm to make investments he thought would pay off. Only the market slump wiped him out.”
“Stole money? Or did you let him have it?”
Ted looked sicker. “Okay. I let him have some funds because he convinced me he’d pay it back with interest as soon as he sold the stock. But it went down instead of up.”
Jack snorted. “Leaving both of you holding the bag.”
“I told him he had to put it back before anyone found out. But he can’t.”
Jack looked from one man to the other. “What’s that got to do with me?”
“Nothing. If you hadn’t gotten shot and come home. But then you joined the firm. Dick knew your strict moral code. He knew you wouldn’t go along with the deal—that you would expose him when you found out.”
Jack looked at Ted. “What about Dad? Is he going along with this?”
“I’ve got a cover story for him. He’ll believe me.”
“Because he wants to believe you?”
“Yes,” Ted answered.
“But not me.”
“Sorry.”
“So you locked me out of the company computer system?” Jack asked his brother.
Ted’s face contorted. “Yes. Dick said he’d kill me if I didn’t go along with him.”
Jack’s gaze swung to MacDonald. “You hired that guy to rob us in Ellicott City and kill me in the process. Did you take the cover off the well before the party?”
“What?” Ted asked.
MacDonald ignored him and addressed Jack. “Yes. And it was me last night at Morgan Enterprises and then today at that mansion out in the county. And I have Bill worried that you got your brains scrambled in Afghanistan and might be playing fast and loose with company funds.”
“That’s why he wouldn’t tell me anything?”
“Yeah.”
Ted was taking it in, probably hearing it for the first time, for all the good it did him. What the hell had he thought would happen when Jack arrived here? That Dick would threaten them both, then let them go? Sure.
Jack knew MacDonald was telling them about his recent activities because he knew the Morgan brothers weren’t going to get a chance to tell anyone else.
But maybe there was some way to stall the guy. To stave off the inevitable, he asked, “Is that real-estate agent, Pam Reynolds, working with you?”
MacDonald laughed. “Not in the sense that you think. But I’ve been keeping tabs on the house through her.”
“And now what’s going to happen?” Jack asked.
“I’ve got to get rid of you both,” MacDonald answered, confirming Jack’s assumptions. Which meant Jack didn’t have anything to lose by trying to take him down. Unfortunately, he’d have to be fast. And pray that his damn leg didn’t trip him up.
Jack kept his gaze on the man who had been a trusted family adviser and had taken advantage of that status. “It’s going to be hard to make it look like an accident.”
* * *
SARA’S HEART POUNDED AS SHE crept closer, listening to the conversation. The man with the gun was Dick MacDonald, the family financial adviser. He must have been as crooked as a corkscrew. And a good talker, because he’d convinced Ted to let him use money from Morgan Enterprises.
Could she get the drop on him before he killed Jack and Ted?
She had to. But she needed a distraction.
Cautiously she peered around the corner, trying to size up the situation. The perfect solution came to her when she spotted Jack’s phone lying on a low table.
Stepping back to remain unnoticed, she reached for her own phone.
The next words she heard stopped her in her tracks.
* * *
JACK WATCHED MACDONALD’S RUDDY FACE break into a parody of a smile.
“It’s not going to be an accident. It’s going to look like your girlfriend did it. She’s the perfect suspect, don’t you think?”
The words were like a blow to Jack’s gut. “Sara? Leave her out of it.”
“No way. She kept putting herself in the middle of it,” MacDonald answered.
“No.”
“Oh, yeah. How did she figure out something was going on?”
Jack shrugged, but he was pretty sure he knew.
“I guess she’s smarter than you. Or maybe you’re just too damn trusting.”
Jack fought the sick feeling threatening to overwhelm him. Too trusting, yeah. He’d been sure nobody in his family was trying to kill him, and he’d been right. Too bad he hadn’t trusted the right person—Sara.
If MacDonald killed the Morgan brothers and pinned it on Sara, it would all be Jack’s fault because he had been sure she was lying—or crazy.
But he simply hadn’t been able to believe her wild tale about coming back from the future to save him.
It was still hard for him to believe. Worse than the fortune-teller story. Yet despite all his doubts, he knew now that Sara had predicted this was going to happen. Well, not this specific scene. She hadn’t said that Ted was going to be dead, too. But she’d also said that things hadn’t happened exactly the way they had the first time around.
Jack was trying to decide what to do when the phone he’d set on the table rang.
And there was only one person who could be calling him now.
Sara.
Everybody whirled toward the phone, just as she stepped into the room, a gun in her hand.
But MacDonald must have seen her from the corner of his eye.
“What the hell?” When he pivoted toward her, she raised her gun and fired.
Too much was happening at once, and her aim was off. She hit MacDonald in the shoulder.
He made a grunting sound, then got off a shot in her direction, but she’d already ducked back into the hallway.
Heedless of the weapon in MacDonald’s hand, Jack leaped out of his chair. MacDonald swung the gun back toward him, but Jack ducked low, plowing into the man’s legs and knocking him to the floor.
They landed together in a heap, but MacDonald still had the weapon and was desperately struggling to get it into firing position. Jack pinned the man’s arm to the floor as he fired again, the shot whizzing past Ted’s legs.
His brother cursed. With his hands still tied, he stood and dodged to the side as Jack and MacDonald struggled on the floor.
* * *
SARA CHARGED BACK INTO the room, trying to get a bead on MacDonald. But she didn’t dare shoot, not when he was rolling around on the floor, fighting with Jack.
Across from the struggling men, she saw Ted edging away along the wall.
How much of this was his fault? She didn’t know, and she didn’t have time to find out.
“Stay out of the way,” she ordered. Shoving the gun into the waistband of her slacks, she dodged around the two men fighting for the gun on the floor, picked up the chair where Jack had been sitting and slammed it down onto MacDonald’s head.
The killer cried out and went still. Jack heaved him onto the floor, grabbed the gun and twisted it away, then sat up.
“Are you all right?” Sara asked.
“Yes.”
He and Sara were both covering the killer when Detective Montgomery appeared in the doorway, his gun drawn.
“Police. Drop the weapons!”
Jack looked at Sara. “Do it,” he said.
She reluctantly put down her gun. Jack did the same.
“This whole thing is about MacDonald stealing money from the firm,” Jack said. “He thought
that I would find out about it and turn him in. Which is why he was trying to kill me and Sara.”
“That’s true,” Ted confirmed. “He forced me to lure Jack here. Sara must have followed him.”
“We’ll sort it out at police headquarters,” Montgomery said, giving no hint if he believed their side of the story.
“Unfortunately, it looks like MacDonald’s going to the hospital,” Jack answered, pointing to the bloodstain spreading across the man’s shoulder.
Montgomery called for an ambulance as well as a couple of patrol cars.
The ambulance took MacDonald to Howard County General, under guard, for treatment. Ted, Jack and Sara went to police headquarters in separate cars, where they were each questioned alone.
This time Sara and Jack had nothing to hide—well, except for her time-travel saga. They told Montgomery the full story, leaving out the part he wouldn’t have believed anyway.
Two hours later, after they had all given statements and Ted had confirmed the money missing from Morgan Enterprises, Jack and Sara were free to leave the station.
“We need a ride to our cars,” Jack said.
“I can do it,” Robards offered.
He ushered Sara into the passenger seat of the squad car. Jack sat in the back, then leaned toward Sara and cleared his throat. “Sorry you went through all that.”
“It came out all right,” she answered, wondering whether she was telling the truth. She and Jack hadn’t had a chance to talk since he’d ordered her out of his house. He’d said some pretty awful things to her, and she still didn’t know if he thought she was crazy.
When they arrived at Willow Lane, the officer stopped beside her car, and she got out quickly.
Jack followed, and they stood awkwardly on the shoulder.
“This is no place for any kind of conversation,” he said. “Come back to my house.”
Not trusting herself to speak, she only nodded, wondering exactly what Jack was going to say to her.
She followed him back, waiting with her heart pounding while he unlocked the door and stepped inside.
Jack’s face was grave, and she could barely breathe as he turned toward her.