“Ungrateful bitch,” he snarled, struggling to his feet.
“Murderer!” She wanted to turn on him, scratch him, hurt him, punish him for all he’d done to her, to Shawn, to the insurance investigator. But she couldn’t allow her rage to overwhelm her, to steal her control. She didn’t want to die. She didn’t want Phillip to have the satisfaction of killing her again. She didn’t want to lose the second chance she’d been given with Dylan. If she had any possibility of getting away, she had to force herself to remain calm long enough to find it, to take it.
The gun, small and black and deadly, suddenly appeared in her face. He grasped her shoulder, pulling her to a sitting position. She felt the cold steel touch her temple.
In a desperate move, knowing it might be her last, she kicked upward into his groin and shoved as hard as she could.
He fell backward with a loud grunt, and the gun exploded. A painful sting touched her cheek, but she was still alive, still moving. She rolled away from him, staggered to her feet and lunged through the open door, her wet shoes slipping precariously as she ran down the polished hardwood hallway.
“Analise!”
Did he really think she’d stop just because he called to her?
She hit the stairs, taking two at a time, clutching the rail for balance as she charged downward. But just as she reached halfway, she felt familiar hands on her shoulders, pushing, and this time one of those hands pressed the cold metal of a gun against her. She stumbled, hanging onto the bannister desperately, refusing to let him do it to her again.
A thud sounded at the front door, and it came crashing open. “Let her go!”
Dylan! Her heart surged.
This time would be different.
This time they’d make it.
Phillip’s grip changed, but he didn’t let go. One arm wrapped around her shoulder, pressing the barrel of the gun against her neck. His other hand caught her elbow. She clutched the rail more tightly, prepared to hang on for dear life, but this time he steadied her, helped her regain her balance.
“I’m certainly glad you’re here. I could use some help with her,” he said.
She looked down to see Dylan at the foot of the stairs, his big, silver gun pointed in Phillip’s direction. He moved slowly upward, glowering from beneath storm-cloud brows, his eyes dark, raging maelstroms. “Give me the gun, Ryker.”
“I had to take it away from her,” Phillip said, his voice oily. “She was trying to kill herself. If you’ll put down your gun and help me restrain her, I’ll get her in my car and take her to the hospital.”
Analise tried to jerk away from Phillip’s grasp, but he tightened his hold. “Take your filthy hands off me,” she gasped, struggling against him.
“Calm down, sweetheart. Everything’s going to be all right.” His tone was soothing, condescending.
Dylan was only two steps below them now. The hurricane barely contained in his eyes seemed to gain in fury. “It won’t wash, Ryker. I know all about your activities. My name isn’t Forrest, it’s Hunter. Tom Hunter was my brother. I’ve been trying to find the proof of what he told me about you ever since his death. Now, turn Analise loose and hand me the gun, real slow, with two fingers, just like in the movies.”
Analise was so shocked by Dylan’s revelation that she almost missed the fact that Phillip must be equally distracted. Taking advantage of the situation, she kicked backward and felt her foot connect with his knee, heard him curse. His grasp loosened as he stumbled, and she twisted away, shoving him, sending him tumbling against Dylan. Both men toppled downward.
Analise scrambled to her feet, reaching for Phillip’s gun which had fallen on the stairs.
The two men landed at the bottom, Phillip scrambling to his feet, Dylan sprawled on his back. For an instant, panic washed over her. Had Phillip killed Dylan again? But Dylan was moving, trying to get up.
Analise grasped the gun and aimed, her finger tightening on the trigger. She could and would shoot this man who threatened her life and Dylan’s, who had already destroyed their happiness in another lifetime.
Dylan unwittingly saved Phillip’s life when he rolled over and grabbed both the man’s legs, dragging him to the floor.
She watched helplessly as the two men fought, but it soon became apparent that Phillip’s sleek body which looked so good in business suits was no match for Dylan’s muscles.
After scuffling briefly, Dylan rolled Phillip onto his back and planted a knee in his chest, smashed a fist into his jaw and drew back to do it again.
Analise was torn between wanting Dylan to punish Phillip and fearing that he would kill him then go to jail himself.
The scream of a siren pulled Dylan up short, and he staggered to his feet, jerking a semiconscious Phillip with him. Analise hurried down the stairs to stand beside him, to touch him and know they were both still alive.
Through the open door she could see uniformed officers piling out of two squad cars parked in the street.
“I called them when I heard the shot,” Dylan said. “I may not have proof of what he did to my brother, but surely we can get him for your attempted murder.” He let out a long sigh, as if he’d been holding his breath for months.
“I’ve got proof of everything,” she said quietly. “That’s why he tried to kill me. He’ll pay for Tom’s murder too.”
She looked up to see a sad smile spread over Dylan’s face.
Some of the darkness had left his eyes.
*~*~*
Analise walked across her porch and opened her front door, examining the splintered wood in the pale light from the moon. “This is getting to be a habit,” she teased, smiling up at Dylan as they entered the house. “Breaking down my door, I mean.”
“You could give me a key.” He smiled his first smile of the evening.
She arched an eyebrow. “Or you could use your credit card like you did the other night.”
He drew her into his arms and grinned sheepishly. “Ouch. Can we discuss this over a cup of coffee, preferably one with a liberal shot of brandy in it? This has been a long, grueling day.” He touched the bandage on the side of her face where Phillip’s bullet had grazed her temple. “For both of us.”
“Caffeine and alcohol sound pretty good to me,” she admitted, reluctantly leaving his embrace to lead him to the kitchen. “While the coffee’s brewing, you can explain about this coincidence of your being next door to the former wife of your brother’s murderer. And if I like your explanation, you can stay to drink the coffee.”
She took the pot to the sink and turned on the water.
He ran a hand through his dark hair, tousling it even more than it already was, then pulled out a chair and sat down at the table. “That’s a tough one. I’m not sure you’re going to like the answer.”
She turned off the faucet and looked at him in surprise.
Since she knew Shawn had been innocent in his actions toward Elizabeth, she had assumed Dylan would be the same.
“Go ahead,” she said, suddenly as serious as he.
“Tom and I were very close,” he began, speaking quietly. “He was only a year younger. He told me everything, including his suspicions about the warehouse fires. He was a good investigator. He was getting close to Phillip, close to finding proof. Then he ended up dead. The police said it was an accident. They couldn’t find any evidence to the contrary. But I knew better.”
He paused and looked at her, and his eyes were dark pools of infinite pain. She sat at the table beside him and took his hand.
“Dad had a bad heart. The news of Tom’s death and the way the police handled it killed him. As you can imagine, Mom isn’t taking this too well. She’s pretty close to a nervous breakdown. I had to do something.”
“So you moved next door to me.”
He nodded. “That vacant house seemed like an omen. I assumed because you’d been married to him that you were guilty by association, that, at the very least, you knew everything and were keeping quiet about it. I thought
you would be easier to get information from than he would be.”
Analise’s heart clenched at his distrust of her. She stood and moved away, went to check the coffeemaker. “You thought I would be a party to murder?”
“My head told me you must be, that you had to know. But as soon as I met you, I couldn’t believe you were guilty. At least, I didn’t want to believe it.”
His voice entreated her, but she kept her attention focused on the rising level in the coffeepot. Though she understood what he must have felt, his doubts about her hurt. “I had no idea until Sunday,” she said. “I found some documents of his mixed in with mine. I still had to go to his office to find enough proof to take to the authorities.”
“That’s when I began to get really suspicious,” Dylan confessed. “I followed you there because you’d been acting guilty and evasive Sunday afternoon. I watched you get into his office with your own key, then the next day you woke up claiming amnesia. I thought at first that Phillip had beaten you to keep you quiet.”
“Close enough.” Analise took down two cups and poured in coffee then generous slugs of brandy and returned to the table. “He tried to kill me to keep me quiet. Even knowing he was a murderer, I just couldn’t imagine that he’d hurt me.” She took a sip of her beverage. It was strong and comforting.
When she looked at Dylan again, he was gazing at her, and she wondered why she’d ever thought his eyes were dark. They held the light from all the stars of the night sky.
“I was so scared when I heard you scream that morning,” he said. “Something woke me up about an hour before that. The approaching storm, I guess.”
Or that crazy mental link I have with you, she thought.
“I knew something was wrong,” he continued. “I panicked when I came through that door and saw you huddled on the floor. I guess I was already half in love with you. If I believed in such things, I’d say it was love at first sight.”
“Or second lifetime.”
He grinned, arching an eyebrow quizzically. “Back to the reincarnation stuff?”
“I can see you’re still not convinced. Dylan,” she said, “Phillip killed me. In this lifetime. After he pushed me down the stairs, he held a pillow over my face and I died. I had a near-death experience.” She heard his sharp intake of breath as he reached for her hand and gripped it tightly. “It was just like you read about, the bright tunnel of light, the overwhelming peace. But with it came knowledge. That’s when I got back Elizabeth’s memories. And I became angry. It wasn’t fair that he should do it to me—to us—in two lifetimes. So I came back.”
Dylan was silent for a long moment. “You’re saying you died?”
“Yes.”
“And came back another person?”
“No. I just came back a little confused, with the wrong set of memories. Or maybe it was the right set, what I needed to work things out.”
“And you really believe you were this Elizabeth Dupard and I was Shawn Fitzpatrick.”
“We were, and we are. Our bodies changed, but not our souls. We were meant to be together, but we didn’t make it last time. Something happened. Somehow Blake must have found out.” Suddenly an idea hit her. “Your house. Rachel had a hiding place too. After Papa made mine, she had to have one, so she loosened a board in the corner of her bedroom. Maybe she left a journal too, or at least some notes.”
For a moment she thought he would argue with her, tell her she was being ridiculous, but he only shrugged. “Let’s go look. You won’t be happy until we do.” He might not completely believe her, but he didn’t totally disbelieve either.
As they crossed the yard from one kitchen door to the other, Dylan wrapped his arm about her waist and held her close. She felt warm and comfortable against his body and marveled at how different this trip was from the one she’d made only a few hours before.
“How did you know I broke into your house?” she asked.
“I don’t know. It was like I could sense your recent presence. I caught a faint whiff of your scent. I seem to have a sixth sense where you’re concerned.”
At least he’d admitted that much.
In his bedroom—Rachel’s former bedroom—she went straight to the far corner and, with very little effort, lifted the floorboard.
In the revealed space lay a letter. It was addressed to Elizabeth in a handwriting shaky with age but recognizable to her as Rachel’s.
Dylan leaned over her shoulder. “This gets eerier all the time,” he admitted.
Tears filled Analise’s eyes as she retrieved the last communication from her dear friend. With trembling fingers she opened it and pulled out a single sheet of paper.
My dear Elizabeth, I know you’re dead, and I’m not quite sure why I’m writing this. Maybe I’ve gotten dotty with age. Everyone says I have. But somehow I feel you’re going to read it. Maybe the angels will take it to you. I should be able to tell you in person soon, and I do so look forward to that. At least I look forward to leaving this life. I’m ashamed to face you and can only hope you’ll be able to forgive me.
Elizabeth, believe me when I say no one ever loved a friend more than I loved you, and I would never have done anything to hurt you. But I did. The night you ran away with Shawn, Blake came here. He’d wakened and found you gone. Then he came here and demanded to know where you’d gone.
He was furious! Mama and Papa left me alone with him because he was your husband and a rich and powerful man. He hit me and threatened to kill my parents and me. He beat me until the pain was so bad the words came out, and I told him.
Elizabeth, I’m so sorry! I could have bitten off my tongue when I realized what I’d done. If only I’d bitten it off before I betrayed you!
Even so, I had no idea he’d kill you and Shawn, but when they found your body, I knew that’s what had happened. I went to the sheriff, but it was no use. Blake owns him too. He just laughed at me. For all the years of my life I’ve lived with this secret and never forgiven myself. I only hope that when I pass through to the other side, you’ll be able to do what I haven’t and forgive me.
A tear dropped onto the paper, blurring part of Rachel’s signature. “It’s okay,” Analise whispered. “Everything’s okay, Rachel. Oh, Dylan, why did she have to die blaming herself?”
He wrapped his arms about her and pulled her to him.
“You know, if I believed in all this stuff, I’d say she’ll probably pop up as one of our kids.”
His determinedly frivolous tone and the implication that they’d be having children together brought a smile to her lips. She leaned back in his arms to look at him. “How can you not believe after all this?” she challenged. “What about that picture of me you painted?”
“Which picture? I’ve seen your face enough to do the portrait, and the nude...well, I confess, I fantasized about you. A lot.” He ran a hand over the curves of her breasts, down her waist then clasped her bottom. “But the reality’s even better.”
“Not those paintings. The one of the woman with dark hair who’s drowning.”
He shifted uncomfortably, looked away and cleared his throat. “Oh, that one. Actually, that’s from a dream I’ve had all my life. A nightmare. Strange thing about it, after you lost your memory, that woman kept turning into you in the dream.”
“The woman is Elizabeth. That’s the face I expected to see when I looked in the mirror after falling down the stairs. That scene, from just that angle, is the last thing Shawn saw before he died.”
His eyes clouded over, and he walked away from her, over to the bed, and sat down. “You make a pretty strong case, lady.”
She went to sit beside him. “I don’t see how it could get any stronger.”
“If it’s true, that would explain why I was so drawn to you the first time I saw you, in spite of the fact that I thought you were involved in my brother’s death.”
“And the way you sometimes break into speech patterns that aren’t quite yours. You have almost an Irish brogue at times.”
“I know one thing.” He wrapped his arms about her again, his face only inches from hers. “I love you, Analise or Elizabeth or whoever you are today.”
“And I love you, Shawn and Dylan and whoever you may be in your next lifetime.”
“I don’t know about reincarnation, but I know I’ll love you for all of this lifetime.”
She smiled as she cuddled closer to him. That was all that mattered. They loved each other in the here and now. She could have—should have—trusted her instincts, the voice of her soul.
But maybe she wouldn’t try too hard to get this part absolutely perfect. She wouldn’t mind another lifetime or two of loving him, working on getting it just right.
THE END
Shifting Shadows Page 22