Praying with every breath, he gave the truck more gas. Surely the Lord wouldn’t allow Rachel to be killed. She was good and kind and decent. He shook his head at his naivete. Hadn’t he known buddies in the army, courageous and honorable men and women, who had died?
The countryside whizzed by as he pressed the accelerator harder. The smell of manure and freshly mown fields filled his nostrils, but he scarcely noticed.
Traffic thickened when he reached the outskirts of the city. Then it slowed to a crawl as two lanes became one due to work on the blacktop. Road repairs were going on all over the city, with potholes being filled in, lanes widened, roundabouts cut in to replace traffic lights. Construction vehicles further clogged the roads, gravel trucks and concrete mixers competing with blacktop spreaders for a share of the increasingly limited space.
Never had Grey been so keenly aware of the chaos the streets had become until now, until Rachel’s life depended upon him being able to get to her in time. He was tempted to lean on his horn in the hope that the sheer force of his will would make the traffic move.
Instead, he prayed. Please, Lord, let me be in time.
He blanked his mind to everything but that one thought.
* * *
Roberta hadn’t lied. The shack was filthy. Rachel couldn’t suppress a shiver as the woman pushed her inside.
“It didn’t always look like this,” Roberta said with a disdainful wave of her arm, “but when Nils died, I let it go. It was his place to get away from me.”
“So you let it go to spite him.”
“Exactly. Margaret begged me to let her fix it up, but I always had an excuse as to why that wasn’t practical. After a while she stopped asking.” Roberta pointed to a chair. “Sit down.”
With no other choice, Rachel obeyed.
Roberta handed her a length of rope. “Tie your left arm to the chair. And make it tight. Remember, I’ll have the gun on you the entire time.”
Rachel took the rope, then flung it in Roberta’s face. Startled, the older woman dropped the gun. Rachel made a grab for it, but Roberta beat her to it and stepped on Rachel’s hand. Pain screamed through her.
Roberta yanked Rachel’s head up and slapped her viciously across the face. Once more, she handed the rope to Rachel. “Do something stupid again, and you’ll regret it.”
Awkward with her bandaged hands, Rachel bound her left arm to the arm of the chair. Could she leave a little slack in the rope?
“Did you make it tight? It won’t bother me to put a bullet in your leg if you’re lying. It won’t kill you, but it would give you considerable pain for the time you have left. It makes little difference to me.” Roberta’s voice was supremely unconcerned, not surprising since inflicting pain seemed to come easily to her.
Rachel forgot about trying to gain a little wiggle room in the rope and pulled the rope as tight as she could. “There. Satisfied?”
Roberta gave the rope a tug. “Now I am.” She tucked the gun in her waistband. “I can get to this in a second, so don’t do something stupid.”
She bound Rachel’s right arm to the chair, then wrapped the rope around her chest and waist, strapping her to the back of the chair. Pressing against her chest with its massive bruise courtesy of the fight a day ago, the rope dug in savagely, and Rachel winced.
“You have to know you won’t get away with this.” The tired words, words she’d uttered numerous times in the past, mocked her. It was entirely possible that Roberta would get away with killing her. She had four murders to her credit thus far. What was one more?
Roberta laughed, a grating sound that was at odds with her genteel appearance.
“I’ll be appropriately shocked when it comes out that Wingate was behind the child’s abduction. Of course, I’ll be heartbroken when her body is found.” A tear trickled down her perfectly made up face. “Or maybe it won’t be found at all. In either case, I’ll commission a spectacular headstone to commemorate her short but sad life.”
“And make yourself look like the oh-so-loving and bereaved grandmother in the process.”
“There is that.” Roberta preened a bit. “I look stunning in black, if I do say so myself. I’ll have to shop for a new dress. I do so love shopping.”
“The timelines won’t fit,” Rachel pointed out. “It’ll be proven that Michaels was killed before I was. The detective on the case knows I was alive after Michaels was killed, same as Grey does.”
“Don’t you think I’ve already thought of that?” Roberta asked, voice full of scorn. “I have friends in the Atlanta Police Department, as well as the governor’s office. Or should I say, people who owe me favors. It’s a simple enough matter to plant the idea that Wingate hired one of his thugs to kill you. When he refused to pay what he promised, the man killed him, too.”
She waved a hand in a lofty gesture. “With enough money, you can make the truth say anything you want. It all depends on who’s doing the talking and who’s doing the listening and how much money you spend to make sure it’s the right people.”
Rachel shuddered at the cold words. “You’re sick. You know that, don’t you?”
“I’m sick? Margaret’s father was the one who was sick, foisting his child upon me. Was it any wonder that I killed her?”
“You murdered Maggie?” Rachel worked to wrap her mind around Roberta’s words. What kind of mother, adoptive or not, committed such an atrocity against her child? “Murdering your own daughter and ordering the murder of your grandchild. You truly are despicable.”
“Weren’t you listening?” Roberta’s face twisted with anger so vile that Rachel trembled despite her vow not to show any fear. “Margaret was never my daughter, and her spawn was never my granddaughter. They were nothing to me. Not from the beginning.
“I made all the right noises. Did all the right things concerning Margaret’s upbringing. Made sure she went to the right schools, wore the right clothes, associated with the right people. Anyone will tell you that I was a devoted mother. No one saw how much I detested her and, later, her child.”
Rachel struggled against the ropes. “Grey will find the truth.”
“He’ll be taken care of. If that fool Michaels had done his job in the first place, Nighthorse wouldn’t still be alive to cause me all this trouble. As it is, I’ll have to find someone to get rid of him. Or maybe I’ll do it myself. I’ve found that I have a knack for killing.” She lifted a slim shoulder in an elegant shrug. “Perhaps my first instinct was correct, though. I should have an unshakable alibi when he’s murdered. It shouldn’t be too hard to find someone willing to do the deed. You can buy anything in the world if you have enough money. Including murder.”
Rachel had accepted that she probably wouldn’t get out of this alive, but she couldn’t let Grey be murdered, as well.
Despite everything, she felt a peace she hadn’t known in years. As desperate as her situation was, she wasn’t alone. The Lord was with her. She’d thought he’d abandoned her, but the truth was, she’d walked away from Him. He’d always been with her, even when she’d done her best to push Him away. Shame washed over her.
“Ah. I see you have feelings for him. The two of you deserve each other. No breeding, no class. He was never good enough for my family. If Margaret had married Winn as she was supposed to, we wouldn’t have been in this fix. She could have been controlled. At least for a short time. Of course, she’d have to have been disposed of eventually.”
“That was always your plan for her, wasn’t it, even if Michaels had been in the picture?”
Roberta gave a thin smile. “How very perceptive of you to realize that. However, if she’d married Michaels, there wouldn’t have been that annoying brat to interfere with the trust. It’s sickening that a child stands between me and what’s mine.”
Even knowing how twisted the woman was, Rachel was still shocked at the blatant dismissal o
f a child’s life.
Roberta poured gasoline on the floor, lit a match and tossed it. Flames ignited immediately. “Don’t worry. Smoke inhalation will kill you before the flames reach you.” Glee sparked in her eyes. “Probably.”
To Rachel’s astonishment, Roberta held her wrists over the fire. “When the authorities arrive, I’ll show that I burned myself trying to save you.” With a hiss, she removed her hands, the reddened skin already blistering. “Sadly, I was too late.”
She took off the cardigan of her sweater set and smeared it in the dirt and soot. Calmly, she replaced the sweater and made a moue of distaste. “I’ll be so distraught over your death that I wasn’t even able to change my clothes. I expect the EMTs and firemen will be fighting over who gets to take care of me. I’ll be a tragic victim.” With queenly bearing, she walked out the door.
Crushing pain filled Rachel as she realized that Grey would never know that she loved him, loved him with her whole heart and being. That spurred her to action and she began to rock the chair back and forth in an attempt to break the ropes.
The silent prayer she offered filled her with strength. She wasn’t beaten yet. Not by a long shot.
* * *
Grey punched the accelerator and felt the truck leap forward. Mercifully, the construction zone had come to an end, and he was once more on a two-lane highway.
In Ansley Park, he ignored the sign cautioning against reckless driving.
He ignored the gate at the driveway to the Gyllenskaag estate and, giving the truck everything it had, mowed down the fence surrounding the expanse of field. He ignored everything but his need to get to Rachel.
He peered into the distance, trying to locate the shed Rachel had tricked Roberta into describing. Smart girl. She’d done her best to give him a clue as to where Roberta was taking her.
Please, Lord, don’t let me be too late. The words chanted in his mind, compelling him to move faster.
Billows of smoke smeared the air. He steered the truck in that direction. Flames engulfed the shed. Rachel was here because of him. All along, she’d felt there was something off about Roberta, and she’d been right.
He pulled the truck to a stop, hopped out, then ran to the shed and kicked down the door.
Rachel lay on the floor, bound to a chair. He yanked off the sling protecting his arm, and, not bothering to untie her, picked her up, chair and all, and ran outside.
She wasn’t breathing. His own breath caught in his throat before his training took over. After cutting through the ropes, he began mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.
“Rachel. Rachel, come back to me. I can’t let you go.” His pleading must have reached her for she opened her eyes.
“Grey?”
The hoarseness in the single syllable tore at his heart. He’d seen buddies suffering from smoke damage in the Stand and didn’t have to be a medic to know that the smoke had seared her lungs.
“I’m here.”
“I knew you’d make it in time.”
Covered with soot and smelling of smoke, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. “Nothing could have stopped me.”
“Roberta. It’s been her all along. Go after her. She’ll run once she knows that I’m still alive. She may be our last hope to find Lily. Go,” she repeated. “I’ll be fine.”
When he hesitated, she said, “Call 911, then go. Now. Before it’s too late.”
He didn’t want to leave her, but she was right. Once Roberta knew that Rachel had survived and could testify against her, she’d flee the country. She had enough money to hire a private plane and fly to a country that didn’t have extradition rights with the United States. He climbed in the truck and sped to the main house.
He shouldered the door open, strode to the parlor and found Roberta there. Her gasp upon seeing him told him she hadn’t expected him. However, she rallied quickly and put on a sad but brave face.
“Greyson, you’re too late. We were both too late. I tried to save Ms. Martin from the thug who left her in the shack to die, but I couldn’t.” Her face tearstained, she held out her burned hands. “Look. I got these when I was trying to save her. I was just going to treat them when you arrived.”
“Cut the act. I know everything.”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about, and I resent your bursting into my house.” She turned her back to him and came away with a gun. “I always knew it would come to this. From the first time you stepped into my home, you’ve been a thorn in my side, a thorn that needs to be plucked out.”
Grey had never lifted a hand to a woman in anger, but he felt no compunction in shooting the gun from Roberta’s hand.
She clutched her injured hand to her chest and screamed in outrage. “How dare you come here and assault me this way? I’ll have you arrested. You’ll go to jail where you and your kind belong.”
“If I weren’t a gentleman, I’d have dared a lot more. Be grateful that my mother taught me to never hit a lady, though you hardly qualify. Now, sit down and shut up while we wait for the police to get here. They’re on their way right now. They’ll want to have a long chat with you, especially after I tell them that you tried to kill Rachel and about all the other murders.”
“Tried to kill Rachel? She’s not...?”
“Dead? Is that what you were going to say? No. Rachel’s very much alive. And eager to tell everything that you bragged about. What’s more, she has it all recorded.”
“There’s no way she could have recorded our conversation.”
“Her phone picked up everything you said. You give a mighty nice confession, Roberta. Very detailed. The detectives and DA are going to love you for that.”
“You’re a nothing. You were a nothing before you married Margaret and you still are.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment, seeing as it’s coming from you.” He let his gaze rake over her. “Do you have any idea of how despicable you are? You could have had everything—a daughter who loved you, a grandchild—and you threw it away for a few measly dollars.”
“Everything? That money should have been mine. I gave my life to raising a child who wasn’t my own. The money was mine. It was always mine.” Her voice rose with each syllable.
“Maggie didn’t care about the money. Neither do I.”
“Liar. Everyone wants money.”
“Don’t worry. Where you’re going, you’ll have everything you need. Including an orange jumpsuit, though I doubt it’ll be designer. Think of the bright side. You won’t have to worry about what you’re going to wear each day. Maybe you can spend the time thinking about your sins.”
Roberta spat at him.
Grey wiped the spittle from his cheek and looked at her with revulsion. “Now, now. Is that the way a fine Southern lady like yourself would act?”
She nursed her hand. “I’ll never be convicted. The Gyllenskaag name means something.”
“At one time. Not anymore. Not after you’ve trashed it.”
Sirens sounded in the distance. Less than five minutes elapsed before Grey heard tires on the blacktop and the rumble of engines. The cars slowed, followed by the crunch of tires on the crushed shell drive. Within a few minutes Detective Lannigan and a couple of officers walked in.
Grey pointed to Roberta. “Here’s your murderer. Roberta Gyllenskaag herself. Don’t fall for her act,” he warned. “I’m going to Rachel.”
“The EMTs are seeing to her,” Lannigan said. “They’ll take her to the hospital to be treated for smoke inhalation. If you hurry, you might catch them.” He aimed a hard look at Roberta. “You’ve got a lot to answer for, ma’am. I’m hoping I get to interrogate you myself before sending you on to the DA. Fact is, I’m looking forward to it ’bout as much as I’ve looked forward to anything on the job.” A wolfish smile stretched across his face.
Roberta stared down her no
se at him. “I’m friends with the mayor and the chief of police, not to mention the governor and both of the state’s senators. There’s nothing you can do to me.” The imperiousness of her words caused the detective to smile.
“We’ll see about that.” He turned to one of the uniforms with him. “Cuff her.”
“But, sir, she’s wounded,” a young officer protested.
Lannigan looked at her hands. “Okay. Leave her uncuffed.” He raised his gaze once more and met Roberta’s head-on. “Try anything funny, though, and the cuffs come out, burned wrists and bullet holes or not.”
“I’ll have your job for this,” she said, the hatred in her eyes promising she wanted to do far more than that.
“It’s yours if you want it, ma’am. Though I don’t think they let killers like yourself be detectives. You might want to ask one of your fancy friends about that.”
But Grey was no longer listening. He sped back to the shack and, seeing that Rachel was already in the ambulance, climbed in as well, cutting off the EMTs’ protests.
“I’m going with you. Deal.” He sat by the gurney and reached for her hand.
He’d almost lost her.
EIGHTEEN
Rachel supposed she had looked worse in her life, but right now she couldn’t say when. A nurse had brought her a handheld mirror and a comb, but her smoke-frizzed hair defied any attempt to tame it. Her cheeks still bore smudges of soot, and her eyes seemed to be sunken in her face. Almost as bad as her appearance, her mouth tasted like something had crawled inside and died.
It shouldn’t have been surprising, then, that Grey chose that moment to walk into the room.
“Seems like we’ve done this before,” he said.
She tried out her voice and discovered it was more of a croak. “Seems like.”
“You gave me a scare.”
“Me, too.” Her throat felt scratchy, and she coughed to clear it. When she tried to sit up, Grey gently pushed her back down.
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