by Mary Birk
“Nothing I do now matters.”
“What happened with Miranda wasn’t cold-blooded murder like this would be.”
He lifted his hands in a gesture of hopelessness. “Maybe not, but there’s still Mother and Stone.”
Anne’s heart jittered. She moved from the counter to the kitchen island, forcing herself to look at him as if he weren’t a monster. “I thought Lance or Darryl . . .”
“No.”
She realized she was dealing with a different situation than she’d thought. Not just a desperate man killing in the heat of passion, but a man who’d planned murder. Planned and executed two people. But why? “The will?”
“I needed that money.” Rodney got up, started pacing the kitchen floor. He looked at his watch. “Get away from the window.”
Anne moved to the center island, lifted herself on to a stool. “To give Von Zandt?”
“He was going to have me killed.” Rodney leaned over the kitchen sink to peer out of the window, one hand on the counter, inches away from the dishtowel hiding the gun.
She fought down the urge to lunge at him. She couldn’t let him find the gun. “You should stay away from the window too.” Her voice came out surprisingly nonchalant.
He backed away.
“So you took the will?”
He went back to his chair by the kitchen table. “The only one I could find. I thought if Mother was dead and I got rid of Jeremy and the new will, the old will would still hold. But I didn’t get the original, so it didn’t end up helping me.”
“Didn’t you know Lance would be blamed?”
“Don’t you see? I didn’t have any choice.” He spoke to her as if she weren’t quite bright.
“Did Miranda know what you’d done?”
“No.”
The noise of the back door opening crashed a shock of panic through the room. Rodney pointed his gun and shot without even taking time to aim. Anne jolted off the stool, lunged toward Michael, shoving his swing into the corner. The explosion of the noise from the gunshot was followed with a second of complete silence, as if they were suspended in time. Then the baby screamed, but in anger, not pain. Anne dashed over to where Meg had fallen. The bag Meg still held was now soaked, and the room reeked with a pungent wine smell. Anne moved the bag away from her sister, wincing at the sound of broken glass.
“Rodney, don’t be an idiot, it’s Meg. She was just bringing home the champagne. Put the gun down.” She put her arms around Meg. “Are you all right? I told Terrence to call you and give you a ride from the shop.”
Meg looked around, dazed. “I forgot my phone in my room.” She put a hand on her chest. “I’m okay. God, the noise scared me to death. I thought it was a bomb or something. What’s going on?” Meg stopped talking when she registered Rodney holding the gun.
Ignoring her question, Rodney motioned for Anne to go over to the still wailing Michael. “Make him be quiet.”
Anger surged through her like a forest fire through dry tinder. “You might want to look before you shoot.”
“Don’t tell me what to do. Get the baby and shut him up, or I will.”
Anne shot Rodney a disgusted look but got up and went over to Michael. She disengaged him from the swing and held him against her body, but he wouldn’t stop crying.
“I said, make him be quiet.” Rodney’s voice trembled.
“I’m doing my best.”
Anne jostled Michael, while she looked around the kitchen to try to see where the bullet had gone. There was no sign of it. Michael’s sobs turned into soft hiccups.
Rodney looked at Meg. “Get that mess cleaned up.”
Meg looked toward Anne, who nodded. She picked up the bag still dripping with champagne and took it to the sink.
“Use the paper towels, Meg.” Anne didn’t want to take the chance that Meg would pick up the dishtowel hiding the gun. She needed to get Meg and Michael out of danger before she could do any-thing with it.
Rodney frowned as he tried to watch them both.
Anne asked, “Have you ever shot that thing before?”
“Why does that matter?”
“If you’re thinking Terrence is walking in here unarmed, you’re wrong. He’s almost always armed.”
“You’re lying. Police don’t carry guns in Scotland. It’s not like the States.”
“Terrence isn’t an ordinary kind of a policeman. He carries a gun. Are you planning to shoot it out with him? You can’t possibly win that. He’s trained in firearms and I doubt if you are.”
Rodney gnawed on his lip. “Has he ever shot anyone before?”
She nodded.
Rodney looked troubled. “Why are you telling me this?”
“I don’t want Michael and Meg to be hurt in any crossfire.”
“If he shoots backs, it’s not my fault.”
“Why don’t you lock them up in the pantry? They’ll be safe and you can deal with Terrence without having to be distracted. You can keep me here with you to make sure you have leverage against Terrence.”
He thought. “The pantry locks?”
She nodded. “It has a silverware vault in it, so the door has a strong lock. The key’s right there. Let me get Meg a bottle for the baby in case she’s in there long enough for him to need it, and something to sit on. Maybe we should put the swing in there.”
Rodney thought, then nodded. “Go ahead. Then you come out and I’ll decide what to do next.”
Meg’s face was skeptical, but Anne sent her a look she hoped conveyed her confidence in the plan.
“Go on, Meg. Take him where he’ll be safe.” She got a bottle from the refrigerator where she kept one for an emergency. Michael was so bad at taking bottles, she knew he would have to be desperate to accept one, but just in case, she needed to give Meg an option. She reached over to the counter and grabbed the dishtowel. When Rodney frowned, she said, “In case it leaks or he spits up.”
Meg dragged the swing and a chair for herself into the pantry. Anne followed with the bottle. She set it on a shelf, kissed Michael, praying she’d see him again. Then she leaned over to kiss Meg on the cheek, handing her the dishtowel and whispered, “Use this if you need to.”
Her sister’s eyes registered comprehension as her hand touched the hard object inside the towel, and she gave a quick nod.
Taking a deep breath, Anne pulled the door shut, then looked at Rodney. “Do you want to lock it to make sure it’s locked, or do you trust me?”
“You can lock it.”
She turned the key and hung it back on the hook outside the pantry.
He looked at his watch. “It’s been a little over twenty minutes since he called. I’d better get ready. He should be here anytime.”
“So what’s your plan?”
“Why would I tell you?”
“Why not? What can I do about it?”
“You can’t do anything.”
She kept her voice calm. “Why don’t you just give this up? What good will it do to kill Terrence? Or for you to be killed?”
“I don’t care if I die, as long as I’m sure he’ll be dead as well.”
“Do you want to talk to him about what you think he did? Explain?”
He shook his head. “I just want him to die.”
“Then maybe we should go outside. Your chances of shooting him before he shoots you in here aren’t very good.”
He looked at her suspiciously. “Why are you trying to help me?”
“I’m not. But I don’t want you to shoot the gun in here again. Who knows where that last bullet went? If you shoot it again, and it somehow ricochets and hits the baby or my sister, I couldn’t stand it. If you know he’s coming in the back, why not wait outside for him?”
“Where?”
She pointed out the window. “There’s a little greenhouse with a brick room attached out there. You can watch the back door from there.”
He seemed to be thinking. “You’d have to come with me.”
“I know
.”
“If you try to warn him, I’ll kill you first.”
“I know.”
“Do you have a torch?”
Anne opened the cupboard under the sink. She took out a flashlight and handed it to him.
He switched it on, then off again, testing it. “It’s cold out there. Do you want a coat?”
She almost pointed out the absurdity of worrying about her being cold when he planned to kill her husband, but the coat might come in handy, so she nodded and took one hanging by the back door. “Yours is still in the study.”
“I don’t need it.”
“I’ll bring my cell phone in case we need it. Bring the whiskey, will you? I need a drink. Or five.”
He grabbed the bottle. She took his glass and got one for herself and led the way out the door. They crossed the backyard to the greenhouse. She pulled open the door and went inside, Rodney so close behind her she could feel the warmth of his breath on her neck.
“My mother liked to garden.”
“Yes, I know.”
She pulled the only two chairs she kept there close to the door, while Rodney stood watch. The yard was dark except for the path going to the back door, but the house was fully illuminated.
“Hand me the whiskey.”
He did so, and she poured them each a generous portion. Rodney leaned back, practically pouring his down his throat. Anne took just a sip of hers, refilling his as soon as he sat his glass down.
“No one can see us in here with it being so dark, do you think?”
“I don’t think so.” Had Terrence understood what she’d been trying to tell him? If so, would he think not to assume they’d be inside? She hoped she’d done the right thing. He would want her to protect Michael above all else, she knew.
“It’s good it’s a cloudy night.”
“For you, perhaps.” She took another sip of her drink.
“You’ll be better off.”
“I don’t think so. I love him.”
“So did she.”
“What happened to her? I mean, how did you do it?” Maybe making him talk about that killing would make him have second thoughts about doing it again.
He tossed down his whiskey. “Why?”
“You didn’t shoot her?”
Rodney’s jaw clenched. “I put my hand over her mouth to stop her from saying anything else, then I just left it there too long.”
“So it was an accident?”
“I’m not sure if I meant to do it or not. But I knew I couldn’t leave her behind.” He held out his glass. “Can you pour me some more?”
She picked up the bottle and did as he asked. Maybe if he drank enough, he wouldn’t be able to aim straight. He hadn’t even come close to hitting Meg, she remembered. Her eyes had by now adjusted to the darkness. On the work bench, she could make out the plant trays she’d brought from Dunbaryn with the plants she’d selected and her watering can. On the floor sat the basket with her gardening tools. Just the day before, she’d been out here organizing everything, getting ready for spring.
Suddenly, all the lights in the house went out. Rodney drew in a breath. “Your sister got out.”
“I don’t think so. There’s no way to unlock the pantry from the inside.” She didn’t want him going back in the house. “Maybe the circuit breaker blew. It happens all the time.”
But even as she spoke, the street lights went out. He pulled her down so they’d be hidden by the brick portion of the greenhouse’s wall. “That’s not a circuit breaker,” he said, his voice edged with panic. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know,” she said.
But she did know. Michael and Meg were now safe. Terrence had come.
Chapter 68
REID WATCHED with night vision goggles as his men took Meg and Michael out of the house through the front door. The house was empty now, he knew. Wherever Anne was, he had to assume she was with Rodney, and she was unarmed.
If Rodney had believed what Reid had told Anne over the phone, he would have been expecting Reid to come through the back door. The house was empty, so if Rodney hadn’t left the property with Anne, he was somewhere in the back garden waiting. And if Anne were still alive, she’d be there as well. Reid was waiting to hear from Allison on the location of Anne’s mobile phone. Harry had remembered Anne’s phone still might have the homing device he’d put on it last spring. Unlike normal locating services which were limited to finding a general location, the homing device could pinpoint a location within two to three feet. Of course, there was no guarantee the mobile was still with her, but there’d been no sign of it in the kitchen. Knowing Anne, he’d bet she’d have at least tried to keep it on her.
Meg said Rodney had a handgun and that he’d discharged it already once. Anne had been fine when Meg had seen her last, and Meg had heard no other gunshots. Of course, Rodney had killed Miranda without making any noise, and he might have killed Anne in the same quiet way.
Fear clenching his heart like a vice, Reid moved forward. With his goggles, he could see his people sliding over the perimeter of the fence. He knew they would move in slowly, looking for any signs of Rodney or Anne.
Allison’s voice whispered through his earpiece.
“The mobile’s in the greenhouse, guv.”
He tapped the mouthpiece once to signal that he’d heard, then took three steps, consciously trying to still his breathing, listening for any sign they’d been detected. Hearing nothing, he continued his advance. Over to his right crept a smaller, more compact figure, also wearing goggles. Harry. Reid’s heart beat hard against his chest, so loudly he almost thought it would be audible to anyone in his vicinity.
The silence broke when Rodney Greene yelled out, “I know you’re out there, Reid.”
Reid didn’t respond.
“I have Anne. If you don’t show yourself right now, I swear I’ll kill her.”
Reid let the silence continue; she was still alive.
The man’s voice wavered. “Where are you?”
Again Reid didn’t respond but continued his approach.
“I mean it. I’ll kill her if you don’t come out.”
Reid looked over at Harry, nodded. They approached the greenhouse from both sides, crouching down below where the glass began, keeping under the brick base of the building. Something scurried over his foot, and he had to stop himself from jumping. A mouse. He took a breath, held himself absolutely motionless. He waited a few seconds, then moved into place on the side of the door with the handle. Nodding to Harry, he reached out to open the door.
*****
Crouching beside Rodney, Anne thought she’d never been so afraid. She touched Rodney’s back lightly. A smell of something frantic seemed to emanate from him. Something like fear, something like desperation, something like insanity.
But there was still time to stop this. “Rodney, think about your father. He loves you. He needs you.”
“He won’t when he finds out what I did.”
“We’d love Michael no matter what.”
“That’s easy to say now.”
She grabbed Rodney’s arm, the arm holding the gun. “Don’t. Please.”
He knocked her arm away. “Stay back.”
“What good is this going to do?” Her throat tightened with the tears she was choking back. “Please don’t.”
Ignoring her, Rodney raised himself up to where the brick ended and the window began so he could look out. “How the bloody hell can he see out there?”
“How do you know he’s out there?”
“I can feel it.”
Anne could feel it as well. Had they come so far to lose each other now? Would tonight end up with Michael losing his father, his mother, or both? “If he is, he’s not alone.”
“Maybe not, but he’ll be the one in front. He’s got night vision goggles, I’ll bet.” Rodney reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the flashlight.
Anne had watched enough movies to know the effect of a brigh
t light on night vision goggles. She lunged for the flashlight, but his arm swung around, hitting her across the mouth so hard she lost her balance. Stumbling backwards, her hand landed in the gardening basket. Pain shot through her palm where something had punctured the skin. Instinctively, she grabbed her injured hand, held it to her chest.
Rodney switched on the flashlight, brought his gun up, and yanked the door open.
*****
Just as Reid reached for the handle, the door flew open. A flashlight went on, blinding him, and a shot exploded. He ripped off the now useless goggles as Rodney Greene’s body fell against him, a vicious set of garden shears protruding from the back of his neck. Warm blood gushing from the wound covered Reid’s hands, but without more than a momentary pause, he shifted the dying man toward Harry, then rushed to Anne.
Chapter 69
MEG HUNG UP Anne’s cell phone after reassuring her mother and Jeanne that everything was all right, then went upstairs to get a diaper, noticing through the windows that the press vans were still camped all up and down the street. They’d been covering the story all night. The phone rang again and seeing from the screen who was calling, she answered immediately.
“Andrew, it’s Meg. I’ve got Anne’s phone right now.” She wanted to make sure he didn’t say anything to her that was meant for Anne’s ears alone.
“I just saw what happened on the news. How is she?”
“She’s fine. She’s safe, we’re all safe and it’s over.”
“Thank God.”
“We didn’t think this would make the news in the States—at least not yet.”
“I’m not in the States. I wanted to be a little closer, just in case.”
In case he needed to come to Anne, Meg guessed. “I’ll tell her you called.”
“I need to talk to her. Just for a minute. I just need to make sure she’s okay.” Desperation edged his voice.
“I don’t think that would be a good idea. She’s okay, I promise. Terrence is here, along with a houseful of police. I’ll tell her you called.” Meg tried to walk the line between loyalty to Anne and compassion for this wonderful man who’d been her own brother-in-law for so many years.