Chapter 25
…if we are loved we are indispensable.
Robert Louis Stevenson
Logan sat in his car on the darkest part of the street across from Bostwick’s house, waiting. He hadn’t heard from Andie, which made him a bit nervous. She was, after all, a trained police officer, he rationalized. More than capable of taking care of herself.
Still…Bostwick had a lot to lose, and that might make him more lethal than either of them had anticipated. Logan had wanted to alert her brothers, but she’d been adamant that she could keep Bostwick busy and not fall for any trick he might pull.
Against his better judgment, Logan had agreed, and now regretted that decision.
To divert his attention from his anxieties, he glanced around. Everything was in place. Several unmarked cars had arrived and taken positions. Though Logan had promised Andie not to involve her brothers in what she was doing, there was nothing stopping him from involving Nate in what he was doing. Nate was, after all, the only SFPD police officer Logan knew he could trust at the moment.
Of course, none of them knew, including Nate, that Logan had arrived an hour earlier to have a private word with Mrs. Bostwick, who soon thereafter departed with a sudden urge to do a little “last-minute” shopping.
Logan’s original plan had been to come to the US, hunt Bostwick down, and simply kill him. Quick, and of relatively little cost to anyone. Tolley’s merciless murder deserved to be avenged in kind, after all.
Tolley Mochrie. Now there was a good lad.
“You’ve many a reason to live,” Tolley’d urged, two weeks after Logan’s family had been buried. “’Twas not yer fault, Logan.”
“Aye, it was,” Logan protested. “They’d all be alive now if not for me.”
Tolley’s arm had encircled Logan’s shoulders; his free hand gently taking the loaded pistol from Logan’s bloodless fingers.
“Listen to me,” Tolley said somberly. “Taking yer own life will do no one any good, least of all you.” He’d smiled a bit at his own quiet humor, but Logan had remained silent. The grin fading, Tolley said, “It’s true, they’re dead, and no bringin’ them back, but taking yer life is nae the answer, my friend.”
Logan reacted with fury. “So what exactly is the answer, eh?” he shouted. “I’ve killed my family. What does a man do after such a thing as that?”
Tolley’s brows knit together, and he nodded slowly. “Then make their lives have had some meanin’. Do something in their name, something good, something true and right and honorable. Dedicate yer life to it so their deaths won’t be a side note in some forgotten book.” He shrugged. “You think your family would want you to end your life like this, do ya? I can’t imagine they would! Live on, live a good life, for them.”
He extended his palm, the gun black and shiny in his hand. “I might not come back from class early to stay yer hand next time, lad. ’Tis somethin’ you have to decide for yourself, and soon, and forever.”
Logan wiped the moisture from his eyes. He’d taken his friend’s advice. He’d become a police officer—one who was good and true and right and honorable. What he’d done to his family couldna be undone, but dedicating his life to their memory was something, after all.
And now the man who’d saved Logan’s life was dead, murdered by a greedy bastard for nothing more than a handful of glittering glass. Was that what a man’s life was worth, then? Was that what Bostwick’s life was worth? When he came again face-to-face with the commander, would Logan be able to stay his hand, or avenge his friend without a second thought?
A car rounded the far corner and barreled into Bostwick’s driveway. The door swung wide, and the commander stepped out, glanced around, then seemed to relax a little.
Just what in the hell had Andie told him, anyway? She was only supposed to keep him away from home so Logan could plant the necklace…
Jesus…Andie…why hadn’t she called to tell him Bostwick was on his way? She was supposed to call…something had gone wrong…
Then he saw the blood on the bastard’s hands, jacket, pants.
That being the case, all bets were off.
As Bostwick lurched up the front porch steps, Logan shoved open his car door and started across the street, signaling to Nate, parked farther down. Immediately, he and Matthews were out of their car and running toward the house, weapons drawn.
His own weapon in his hands, Logan leveled the barrel on Bostwick’s back.
“Halt!” he yelled. The commander froze, his left foot in midair. “Now turn around! Keep your hands where I can see them!”
“Don’t shoot! You’re making a mistake! I haven’t done anything!” Slowly, Bostwick turned. His eyes widened, then narrowed as his gaze landed on Logan. As Nate moved to stand next to him, Inspector Matthews and a uniformed officer hurried up the steps.
“We have a warrant,” Matthews said to Bostwick, then held up a key chain for him to see. “From your car. I trust your house key is on it?”
He nodded. “Go on in. Don’t know what you think you’re going to find.”
“So what’s all the blood from?” Nate said. “You cut yourself shaving?”
Bostwick shrugged, but kept his hands up. “Look, there’s a reasonable explanation for this. If you’d just calm down, and come on inside, let me get cleaned up, I can explain everything.”
“Where’s Andie?” Logan shouted, shoving forward, his weapon still trained on Bostwick’s heart. “You were supposed to meet her in Golden Gate Park.”
Bostwick didn’t react, but instead stuck out his lower lip and shook his head. “You must be mistaken, and just who are you, Mr. Sinclair, to draw a weapon on me?”
“The name’s Macmillan,” he growled. “Scotland Yard.”
Bostwick’s jaw tightened. There was fear in his eyes, but when he spoke, he was smooth as polished glass.
“I did talk to her earlier,” he admitted, “and we did plan on getting together to go over her performance eval, but as for Golden Gate Park?” He laughed. “It would hardly be appropriate for conducting a business meeting, now would it?”
His teeth clenched so tightly he could barely speak, Logan bit out, “Cut the crap, bastard. Tell me where she is!”
Before Bostwick could make up another lie, Inspector Matthews appeared in the doorway, holding an evidence bag. “Found it,” she said to Nate.
Advancing up the steps, Nate grabbed Bostwick’s bloody left wrist and wrenched it behind the man’s back. Cuffing him, he said, “Bradley Bostwick, you’re under arrest for the murders of Bartholomew Mochrie, Drew Mochrie, and for the theft of the Star of Avril. You have the—”
“What!” Bostwick screamed. “What’s in that bag? Is that the necklace? Is it?”
Matthews nodded.
“Goddammit! Goddammit! I didn’t take that necklace! You’re nuts! You’re all nuts! This is a fucking conspiracy. I’ll have your badges for this, all of you, all—”
Grabbing Bostwick by the throat, Logan leaned in close. “Shut. Up.”
The commander complied. Sweat beaded his forehead, and he smelled of blood and grime.
“Where is Andie?” Logan ground out from between clenched teeth. “Tell me now, or I’ll castrate you where you stand, and not one officer here will do a thing to stop me.”
“Somewhere in Golden Gate Park isn’t much to go on!” Nate shouted as he jumped into the passenger side of the Lexus. “I’d stay and beat the information out of the son of a bitch myself, but my sister could already be…”
“Never say it.” Logan’s tone was even, his voice calm. She wasn’t dead; if she were, he’d know it.
Bostwick had hurt her and left her to die…but she was still hanging on. She wasn’t one to give up, and as long as she had breath in her body, she’d fight.
If they only knew where she was…if they could get to her fast enough…
Next to him, Nate was on his cell. “Officer down! Officer down! Golden Gate Park, exact location, unknown. Inspector A
ndrea Darling. Caucasian, female, blond hair…”
As Nate went on with the physical description, Logan drove like hell toward the park. He gripped the wheel, while inside his head, he blasted away the barriers he’d erected fifteen years ago, hoping his so-called gift hadn’t atrophied from lack of use.
Where is she? Guide me. For the love of God, guide me…
In front of him, the light turned red, but he tore through the intersection without so much as slowing down. He kept his eyes on the road while he opened his mind, searching for, begging for guidance.
As he hit the entrance to the park, the murmuring began.
At first, he couldn’t make it out, then the voices grew louder, stronger, as though they were trying to reach him from some distant galaxy.
But he heard, and he understood.
To Nate, he said, “What’s the quickest way to the pagoda?”
Nate’s head whipped around. “How do you…never mind. Go left at the next corner. I’ll guide you from there.”
A few minutes later, the pagoda came into view.
“There’s her car!” Nate shouted.
Logan slammed on the brakes and squealed to a halt in the near-empty parking lot. As the two men leaped out of the Lexus, Logan slowed for a moment.
Over here…over here…find me…find me…
Without a word, Logan turned on his heel and ran across the narrow street toward the rose garden. “Where?” he shouted to the air. “Which way?”
His heart felt as though it would burst, but he kept running. He heard Nate behind him, but didn’t dare take any precious seconds to stop and explain.
The night was dark. A cold fog had crept in, oozing between the trees like a gray snake, transforming the landscape into something surreal.
Logan stopped. The voices were getting weaker. She was dying.
“No!” Putting his fists to his temples, he cried, “Show me where! I’ll do anything you want, but show me where!”
A murmur, a mere whisper of sound thrummed against his eardrum, and he turned his attention toward a dense copse of trees.
Grabbing Nate’s arm, he shouted, “Get an aid car here. Now!” With that, he took off at a dead run through the trees. He reached a small hill, and looked down. A muted glow emanated from the bottom. Water, a pond of some kind, but the light was too dim…
He blinked, then blinked again, unsure what he was seeing.
The figure of a woman appeared to float in the air a few yards in front of him. Her gown was luminescent, her face radiant. She was lovely, and for a moment, he was mesmerized.
She raised her arms as if to welcome him, then slowly retreated. He followed. Down the hill and down toward the water. Her long blond hair shimmered in the scant light, and at the edge of the calm, flat pond, she began to fade like a warm mist into the night.
In a moment, she was gone. Vanished.
He wanted to shout after her, beg her for her help, but then he heard a sound to his left near his feet, and he turned.
Relief flooded his system like a straight shot of adrenaline to the heart.
Quickly kneeling beside Andie, he put his fingers to her wrist. Her heartbeat was weak, but it was there.
On the hill above him, sirens screamed to the edge of the woods. Lights shone crazily in all directions, flooding the area as Nate led the paramedics down toward the pond.
Gently, Logan lifted Andie’s shoulders, cradling her in his lap. Tearing at her clothing, he found the wound in her side, and pressed his bare hand to it, trying to stanch the slow but steady flow of blood.
She made a small sound of pain as she lifted one hand and wrapped her fingers around his wrist. “I knew you’d come,” she whispered. “I called for you. I knew you’d hear…”
“Live,” he begged. “Don’t give it up. That’s all I ask, Andie darlin’. Don’t give it up…”
I’m in that house again, the—what did I call it? The mansion? But why am I here?
Last thing I remember, I was lying in Logan’s arms, looking up into his eyes. So sad. Like he was losing his best friend. Such pain in those beautiful eyes, such regret. Oh, Logan…we had so little time…
I understand now. Somehow, I know everything about him—and always have and forever will. How could I not have seen it before? It’s all so very clear.
Sweet Logan. Do not mourn me. We’ll be together again…my once and forever love…
How did I not recognize you when I was…
But I don’t want to leave you, not like this. I feel as though I’m losing my best friend, too.
Maybe I can get back…maybe I can find a way…I want to go back…Logan…Logan!
What’s that? I’m distracted from my thoughts. There’s a light coming from somewhere down the hall, and I move toward it. But am I walking, or floating? How odd…there is no pain, no fear, no worry…it’s all good now, all good.
The double doors are open to the library, and I go in, look around. Such a nice room. All these books. I love books. And now I’ll have time to settle back and relax, maybe read a few. Catch up on the classics, maybe work a Sudoku or a crossword. No problems, no deadlines, no bad guys to catch. Just time…an eternity, really.
I feel so good, so happy…wrong word…not happy exactly. Content. That’s it. I feel content. At peace. Like a small child snuggled under the covers in a warm bed…full tummy…stuffed bunny to hug…Mommy and Daddy who love me. Content. Perfect. I have never known such peace.
I’m smiling. Every breath I take comes and goes with ease. My muscles are no longer bound by gravity, and I feel lighter than the air around me.
As I look on, a mist forms in the center of the room, snaring my interest. The glistening fog takes a shape…three shapes…a woman and two men. One is her husband, the other, her father.
Anger and fear permeate the room. I can feel it, see it as it swirls about the father like a dark and menacing shroud.
But my focus stays on the woman; she’s so pretty. Blond, with pale skin and full lips. She turns her face to me and smiles, and I know her for who she is.
Ah. Yes. Of course…of course…I should have realized…so silly, so blind…
She turns away again, moving to her husband. Their bond is strong. The translucent silver ribbon connecting them to each other gleams in the muted light of the library.
As I watch, the husband raises his arm and aims a pistol at the father, but the woman intervenes, thrusting her body against her husband’s. The gun disappears from view.
Across the room, the father levels his own weapon, aiming it at the couple. He shouts something, and though I’m only a few feet away, I cannot hear it.
He is furious, and gestures for his daughter to get out of the way.
I watch, helpless, as the husband grabs her by the arm and pulls her behind him…just as the father’s weapon discharges.
My hands rush to my face, and I try to scream, but there is no sound. I want to move forward, to stop that bullet, but am helpless to do so. I cannot intervene, I can only witness…
The world stands still. I can see the bullet as it leaves the gun, round and blunt and drifting, it seems, through time and space, moving in a straight line across the room to find its mark.
I know what will happen now. I want to stop it, stop that evil thing in midair, put a halt to the destruction of three lives.
Then, in a burst of light, the bullet pierces the husband’s heart…but does not stop there.
The couple collapses to the floor, while the father cries out. The pistol falls from his fingers and drops to the floor, but makes not a sound.
As her husband’s life ebbs away, the woman cradles the man she loves in her arms. She rocks him, speaks to him, but I cannot hear her vows of love, her testament to sorrow…
Slowly, she lifts her tear-stained face and looks straight at me. Her lips move as she tries to speak. And though the words never reach my ears, I hear them in my heart…
I stare into her anguished eyes, and unde
rstand.
Epilogue
To become what we are capable of becoming is the only end in life.
Robert Louis Stevenson
One month later…
“This is insane,” Logan groused as he escorted Andie up the front steps of the mansion. “I never should have agreed to this nonsense.”
Andie tightened her arm around his waist. “It’s not nonsense, and you know it. It’s something I have to do. She saved my life, and now I’m going to save hers.”
“But you’re just out of hospital, lass. You’re still too weak to—”
“I’m far stronger than you can imagine,” she said, and it was true. Right after she’d been wounded—and far closer to death than she’d ever care to be again—she’d been too weak to whisper her own name. But in the ensuing weeks, what with good care, the loving support of her family, and about a ton of hot soup, she was beginning to feel her old self again.
“For the last month,” she said as they reached the porch, “I’ve thought of almost nothing but getting back to this place and helping Emma on her way. Her poor spirit won’t be at peace until she knows what happened that night. Since I can’t hear her, or speak to her, you’ll have to do it.”
Behind her, the rest of the Darlings were on their way up the steps, including two very pregnant Darling wives.
As Nate helped Tabitha up the last step, Ethan was waiting about halfway down with Georgie, huffing and puffing, trying to catch her breath before attempting to reach the summit.
“This place has a bathroom, right?” she panted.
“It has one for each of you,” Andie laughed, noting the desperate look in Tabitha’s eyes.
“Aye,” Logan said, pushing open the front door. “We’ll wait while you ladies all attend to Nature’s call.”
Andie pointed out the two downstairs bathrooms to her sisters-in-law, then looped arms with her brothers and, together, followed Logan down the hall to the library.
As she crossed over the threshold, Andie felt the room greet her. She’d told her family about what she’d gone through that night. Psychic dream interpreter Tabitha, New Age feng shui devotee Georgie, and even reluctant-paranormal-by-association Nate got it; somber and irascible Ethan was the single holdout.
Killer Charms Page 25