Fatality by Firelight

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Fatality by Firelight Page 22

by Lynn Cahoon


  As she reached the second floor, Cat heaved a sigh of relief when she spotted Christina with her bags coming out of her room. The girl turned pale when she saw Cat and with a jerky movement waved her back toward the steps.

  “What?” Cat whispered.

  Then a male voice boomed through the open door to her room. “I just have one question, Christina. How many men are you going to make me kill?”

  Chapter 21

  Jeffrey Blank walked into the hallway, staring at a clearly shocked Cat. “You may want to close your mouth, darling. It’s not attractive.”

  “What do you mean, kill for her?” Cat froze in her tracks, unable to run or scream. All she could do was look at the eager-to-please poet.

  “Women aren’t very smart, are they?” He grabbed Christina’s arm and squeezed until she choked out a sob. Apparently, she wasn’t going to talk to anyone. “Christina knows what she did wrong. And now that we’re together, nothing will stop our love.”

  “You just met her.” Cat didn’t want to let on that she knew that Jeffrey wasn’t really Jeffrey. She moved away from the stairwell, but not toward the now-sobbing Christina and the clearly insane man. “Love doesn’t work that way.”

  “Now, see, that’s where you’re wrong. Christina gets it. You should read her books. She understands love.” He leaned his head onto the shoulder of the shaking woman. Christina let out a short scream, and his face contorted and he closed his eyes for a second, apparently trying to get control.

  Cat had used the seconds to position herself in front of a wall. Seth would be here in ten minutes, but he’d be walking in blind, not knowing that one of the retreat guests had gone insane since he left earlier. “She’s obviously upset. Let’s go downstairs and get a cup of tea while we talk this out.”

  Jeffrey shook his head and held up a jagged hunter’s knife. “I don’t think so. Knife trumps queen.” He grinned as he drew the tip of the weapon down Christina’s cheek. A tiny line of blood followed the blade’s path. “Get it, like in chess? Knight trumps queen?”

  Cat didn’t like where this was going. If he heard Seth come in, he might react and kill the woman he now held so tightly. What would Uncle Pete do? Besides draw his gun and shoot the psycho? Since she didn’t have that option, she searched her brain for another way.

  Keep him talking. The voice in her head sounded above all the flight-or-fight responses she was considering. Just keep him talking until you figure out the rest. Well, it wasn’t a full plan, but it had merits.

  “So, you fell in love with Christina this week?” Cat’s hands were shaking, and she pressed them against the sides of her legs, hoping Jeffrey wouldn’t see the fear. Right now, he wasn’t even focused on her. She could, she should, run. But something kept her from moving.

  “What?” He turned his head toward Cat. She realized he’d been whispering in Christina’s ear. Terms of endearment? Plans for the future? Or just ways he was going to torture her before he killed the girl. Cat couldn’t tell from Christina’s facial expression: All she saw was fear.

  “Tell me when you fell in love? I’m crazy about meet-cute stories. Apparently you must have fallen for her at first glance.” Maybe this was just a temporary wiring issue in Jeffrey’s head. Poets could be intense. If she brought him back to reality, maybe he’d drop the knife on his own.

  Jeffrey did lower the knife, but then he laughed. “Seriously? You want a good story for the retreat marketing? Star-crossed lovers meet and fall in love in a restored Victorian, in a small Colorado town? Maybe you are the one who should be writing romance instead of those teenage books.”

  “I don’t have Christina’s skill in that genre. So tell me, when did you know you loved her?” Cat was beginning to think the voice in her head was wrong, that all she was doing was postponing the inevitable. Jeffrey would kill Christina, then her, and then Seth when he came back to the house. He’d steal the car and drive off, getting away with at least four murders, maybe more?

  “Fine, I’ll play. She was in the grocery store picking out apples. I’ve never seen someone so beautiful. And funny. Christina read all the different signs the grocery store had posted about the apples. Which ones were tart, which ones were good for eating. Then she got a bag of both kinds. When I followed her home, I watched through the kitchen window as she baked a pie. What kind of woman today actually bakes?” He got a dreamy look in his eyes as he remembered the day.

  The better question was, What kind of man follows a woman home from a grocery store? This had been his end game. To romance her at the resort, then they’d go home and start their life together.

  Instead, at the romantic ski lodge, she’d fallen for Tommy’s good looks and charming ways.

  Christina must have come to the same conclusion as she turned toward Jeffrey. “I haven’t made an apple pie since last fall. You’re the one who’s been following me?”

  He shook his head. “This week hasn’t turned out the way I’d planned. When I saw you had signed up, I hurried to get the last slot. You’re so easy to track on your computer, you must know that. This was supposed to be our”—he turned toward Cat—“what did you call it, a meet cute?”

  “You’re insane.” Christina’s eyes got dark. “Do you know how scared I was?”

  “Sure, but I had a plan. We’d meet at random, then we’d go for coffee and, well, I never could engineer it at home. So when I saw you signed up, I thought this plan would be perfect.” His eyes narrowed. “Then you had to ruin it, going off with that playboy. Everyone in the bar was laughing at you. The silly girl who was to be Tommy’s last fling before he married that slut bartender.”

  “Tommy cared for me,” Christina blurted, which Cat saw was the exact wrong thing to say. The knife in Jeffrey’s hand twitched. Christina saw it too, and backtracked. “I was silly. I thought he cared for me. That’s why I left Monday night. I knew then that he wasn’t the one. Why didn’t you leave him alone?”

  “He shouldn’t have played with you like that.” Jeffrey’s shoulders relaxed, and Cat took a deep breath. “I made him pay for hurting you.”

  “Wait, how did you get up to the ski lodge?” Cat studied the man’s reaction to her question.

  “When I saw Christina climb into his truck, I knew where they were going. Of course, the tracker I bought online and put in her purse did its job too. Those things are amazing. I got back to my room, checked the coordinates on my phone, then hitched a ride up to the ski lodge.” He shook his head. “Ski bums—what can I say? You all are way too trusting out here in the boonies. I got rides up and back, right to your door.”

  Cat wondered about the luck of the criminal mind. How many times had he been within reach of Christina, and she’d never known? Now that she could put a face to the man who’d stalked her for years, now, he’d walk away again because of a snowstorm and a late ride to the airport.

  He laughed, not looking at Cat, but down at Christina. “You should have seen the guy beg for his life. He told me he didn’t even want you. That he had some hot bartender lined up to marry in the spring. You were just a trifle to him.” He leaned over and kissed her on the top of her head. “You’ll never be just another piece to me. We’ll be those old folks in a retirement home, and when one of us dies, the other will follow within days.”

  “That’s creepy.” Cat slapped her hand over her mouth. She hadn’t meant to say it aloud.

  She saw the anger flash in his eyes, then heard the front door open.

  “Where is everyone? We need to get going if we’re going to make your flight.” Seth called up the stairwell. When they heard his footfalls, all hell broke loose.

  She turned and yelled down the stairs, “Get out of here. Go get Uncle Pete.” She felt the cold steel blade on her throat. And shortly after, a grunt from the man hovering over her. Then he went down, holding his privates as the knife he’d held clattered to the floor. Christina kicked the knife away from his hand.

  Then Seth was holding her and watching Christina t
ie Jeffrey with a curtain tie she’d grabbed from her room. She looked up at the two of them. “Call the police. He’s not going to stay down long.”

  Seth pulled out his cell from his pants and dialed 911. Christina now had Jeffrey’s ankles tied together. She sat back and looked at her handiwork. “We need a gun. Anyone have a gun?”

  “I think we’re good.” Seth handed the phone to Cat. “Talk to Katie until your uncle gets here. I’m going to retrieve that knife, just in case he thinks about moving.”

  “Man, she kicked me in the balls. You should have her tied up. She’s a menace.” Jeffrey groaned. “Why can’t you just take my love and devotion? Why do you have to be such a bitch?”

  “You think this is love? Holding me at knife-point? Killing men I date one time? That’s just being a psycho. That’s not love. Not in any book or real life.” Christina sank into a chair near the stairwell. “Well, at least we got one mystery solved. Wait, no, two: I finally know who is stalking me.”

  “And he’ll be the guest of the state of Colorado for a while, once he’s convicted of murdering Tommy.” Cat leaned into Seth. “I was worried you’d either find our bodies or he’d kill you too. All I could think was to keep him talking.”

  “At least those two years of self-defense classes didn’t go to waste.” Christina tipped her head, listening. “I think your uncle is here. And I’m going to have to spend another night here explaining what happened.”

  “You can be our guest. The guy was going to kill me. I saw it in his eyes.” Cat shivered a little as Seth hugged her closer.

  “I was not,” Jeffrey said from his place on the floor. “All I wanted was for you to stop yelling for your boy toy there. We would have left and been long gone before your uncle even knew it was me.”

  “In your dreams.” Cat was never so happy to hear her uncle barge through the door. “And here comes your ride to the police station.”

  “Cat? Seth? Where are you?” Uncle Pete yelled up the stairwell.

  “Second-floor hallway. Come up and get the trash. Christina’s already got it all bagged up for you.” Seth grinned at the romance writer.

  “Well, you know what they say: If it doesn’t kill you, and you’re an author, you use it in a book.” Christina shivered. “Although I’m not sure I could even try to write about this week.”

  Chapter 22

  Monday night, Shauna served dinner in the dining room. She’d baked a ham, au gratin potatoes, green salad, fresh rolls, and a pumpkin pie for dessert. There was so much food on the table, Cat had to wonder how many guests Shauna had invited.

  Tomorrow, Christina would head home after being held up one day for Uncle Pete’s interviews and another day for the storm, which finally cleared. For the first time in a long time, she wasn’t going to have to worry about her safety. Uncle Pete had charged Jeffrey—aka Adam Stevenson of Seattle—with Tommy’s murder along with a couple of incidents of assault for Sunday’s events. Even if he didn’t get life for the murder, having the other charges could keep him locked away for years. But just to be on the safe side, Uncle Pete had pulled some strings to get Christina into a witness protection program. She’d be set up with a new name, and a new life, as soon as the trial was over.

  As Cat sat down, Seth took the chair next to her. Uncle Pete and Christina were already sitting across from them, talking in hushed tones. Shauna kept looking at the door.

  “Come sit down and eat. Or are we expecting someone else?” The table had two empty place settings. One for Shauna and one for—Cat paused. “Kevin? You invited Kevin? Seriously? We get to meet the boyfriend?”

  “Don’t get so excited. He’s just back in town, or should be by now. I thought it was time for all of us to hang out together.” Shauna looked at her watch. “He said he’d be here ten minutes ago.”

  “Roads are still a mess out there.” Uncle Pete reached for a roll. When he saw everyone looking at him, he set it down on his plate. “What? It’s going to get cold if we don’t eat soon.”

  Shauna sank into her chair. “He’s right. Go ahead and eat. I guess Kevin had better things to do.”

  “Now, darling, there’s nothing better than having dinner with you.” Kevin walked through the dining room doorway with a dozen red roses and a bottle of wine. “I had to stop at the store before I arrived. My mama taught me to never come empty-handed to a dinner invitation.”

  Shauna stood and went to his side. She took the flowers and set them on the sideboard along with the wine. She kissed him on the cheek and straightened his tie. “Everyone, this is Kevin.”

  “Hi Kevin,” came a greeting in unison from the people at the table. As Kevin and Shauna got seated, Uncle Pete looked around the room.

  “Well, I know it’s not Thanksgiving yet, and I’m not the head of this house, but I’d like to propose a toast.” He held up his wine glass. “To my niece Cat and her friend Shauna, and one more fairly successful writing retreats.”

  “At least none of the guests died this week.” Seth held up his glass. When Cat slugged him in the arm, he shrugged. “What? It’s true. You may have had one arrested for murder, but I see that as a good thing.”

  “To Cat and Shauna,” Christina said. “Thank you for saving me from being kidnapped.”

  “And thanks for the amazing food this session.” Cat smiled at her friend. “We made it through another retreat.”

  They all took a drink. Then, after setting his glass down, Kevin looked around the table at the group. “Apparently I’ve missed out on a few things since I’ve been gone.”

  Seth grabbed the potatoes and scooped a big spoonful onto his plate. “We’ll catch you up later. Let’s eat before the food gets cold.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” Uncle Pete started carving the ham. “Who wants the first piece?”

  Shauna held her plate out. “Did anyone see the big story about the library’s new benefactor? Apparently they got a substantial donation.”

  *

  Later, as Kevin and Shauna hung out in the kitchen doing dishes and talking, Cat sat in the living room with Christina. “So, are you going to be okay going home tomorrow?”

  Christina curled up on the couch, her legs tucked underneath her. “I’m looking forward to it. I’ll get all packed up and ready to start my new life. No job is worth what I’ve been going through lately. I guess I’ll have to start writing something else than sweet romances, though.”

  “What are you thinking?” Cat smiled. “Certainly not about poetry.”

  Christina shuddered. “Heavens no. I’m not sure yet. Right now, all I want to do is find a job where I can start rebuilding my life.”

  “I’m glad you’re okay. Those were some amazing ninja moves you pulled on Jeffrey.” Cat closed her eyes, a memory of the anger in his face making her frown. “He can say all he wants now, but I knew he wanted to slash my throat.”

  “He didn’t like to be questioned. And you were too strong.” Christina sighed. “I know one thing: I’m going to stay away from men for a long time. Maybe forever.”

  “Is that why you don’t want to write romance anymore?”

  Christina nodded, gazing off in the distance. Cat didn’t know what she was seeing, but she knew it wasn’t really there. “I can’t seem to relate to a happy-ever-after right now.”

  *

  After everyone had left, and Christina and Shauna had retired upstairs, Cat went to the kitchen and got the key to Michael’s study. She turned on the light and went directly to the desk. Opening the desk drawer, she took out the blue notebook that Dante had returned. It was filled with notes from his classes, comments about students, and questions to follow up on for the next class. She had piles of these notebooks in the cellar.

  But she knew there was a specific one she needed to find. At least one that didn’t deal with the economic solutions he was developing in his classes. A notebook that talked about his side project, the theories he had about the college and the company he had been working for on the side.
r />   She went through Michael’s desk to see if she could find the blue notebook Bella had told her to read. Or the blue file? What had she said? Dante’s blue notebook had been one of Michael’s class explorations. All about economic theory.

  There wasn’t anything like that in the desk. It had to have been in the boxes they took downstairs. The boxes she hadn’t wanted to open yet.

  Dante’s warning echoed in her head: Stay out of this. He’d promised to protect her if she just kept her nose out of the Michael puzzle. But she couldn’t do that. Right now she was in limbo. She couldn’t go back to hating the man she’d been married to. And she couldn’t go forward and build a relationship with Seth until she knew what had happened to her husband. She probably was risking everything she’d built in the last few months, but it was time.

  It was time. Time for her to figure out what had happened to Michael once and for all. She reread the last entry in his journal.

  With Catherine away on her first academic conference, I’ve been able to construct the new office in the attic. I hired a contractor out of Denver who charged me a premium price for the travel time as well as his silence so she’d never hear about my renovation project from any of her old schoolmates. I hate keeping things from her, but I know it’s for the best. Now I can work in private while she sleeps and not worry about leaving her alone and unprotected.

  Oh, the ease with which one lie turns into the next. How will I ever be able to stop? I’m afraid I’m not only lying to her, I’m beginning to lie to myself. ~ Michael

  *

  Tuesday, after Shauna left to take Christina to the airport, Cat went down to the cellar. She located the boxes she and Shauna had carried from the attic and deposited not in Michael’s study, but instead in the damp darkness underground. Had she hoped his secrets would stay buried with him?

 

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