by Anne Stuart
She wasn’t so sure of the man pretending to be Alex.
Would he cross the fields and put the barrel of that gun at the back of her neck and fire? She didn’t want to die without knowing who wanted her dead. It had to be Alex—he had the most to lose.
So why couldn’t she believe it?
The ground beneath her was hard and cold, the chill seeping into her bones. The sun overhead was bright, beating down on her, warming her, and she lay, half shivering, half sweating, waiting to die. The sense of déjà vu swept over her, and she was suddenly thirteen years old again, huddled in the cold on Lighthouse Beach, listening for the sound of a gun.
She lost track of time. She may have even fallen asleep—it was impossible to know. The sun moved higher overhead, and in the distance she thought she could hear voices, and she knew she couldn’t wait any longer.
She tried to pull herself to her feet, but her legs collapsed beneath her, and she fell back onto the earth, half-expecting a bullet to slam into her head. No terrifying whirr, no unseen evil spinning past her. She tried again, and in the distance she could see the house, the shades pulled up, people moving behind the windows.
No one would shoot her now, in view of witnesses. All she had to do was walk back to the house, slowly, carefully, and she’d be safe.
Until whoever had tried to kill her decided to try again.
Chapter Fifteen
PATSY SAT IN splendid isolation at the head of the table, completely dressed, sipping pale coffee with her usual elegance. It was quite possibly the first time Carolyn had ever seen Sally’s younger sister awake before eleven o’clock in the morning, and it was the one time she would have much preferred to avoid her.
“What happened to you?” Patsy sounded more fastidious than concerned. “You look as if you had a wrestling match with an alligator.” She even sounded less fuzzy than usual, but then, she hadn’t been up long enough to get a start on the day’s drinking.
“I went out for an early-morning walk and I tripped.” Until the words came out Carolyn had no idea that she planned to lie. If she had any sense at all she would have called the police, had them search the woods.
Except that she knew, instinctively, that they would find nothing. They wouldn’t think she was lying, of course, but they’d have very strong doubts. And they would tell Sally, who wasn’t strong enough to deal with this.
“What an extraordinary thing to do,” Patsy said.
“Trip?”
“No, go for a walk.” She shuddered expressively. “Communing with nature is greatly overrated, as you doubtless agree. Do you want coffee first or would you like to go change out of those clothes?”
Patsy’s preference was more than clear from her expression, but Carolyn was feeling contrary. “Coffee, please,” she said, taking a seat nearby and vaguely wishing she had had a close encounter with cow manure to make Patsy’s morning complete.
Patsy wrinkled her nose but poured, passing her the cup with a perfectly manicured hand that showed not one trace of a tremor. “Suit yourself, dear.”
“You’re up awfully early today,” Carolyn said in a casual tone.
“I couldn’t sleep. Every now and then I wake up at the crack of dawn, absolutely unable to go back to sleep. I’ve learned the only thing I can do is get up and pretend it’s the middle of the night and I’m simply behaving like a mad, decadent being.” She yawned extravagantly.
“Is anyone else awake?” Carolyn tried to sound casual, and Patsy was too concerned with some vague inner working of her mind to notice the loaded question.
“I think I saw Alex wandering around somewhere,” she said airily. “He looked dressed for outdoors. I’m surprised you didn’t run into him during your little walk.”
Carolyn set her coffee down very carefully. Patsy was far too self-absorbed to notice the effect her words were having, but Carolyn was used to protecting herself.
Who else would it have been? she demanded of herself. She’d caught him in a tangled knot of lies; she knew without a doubt that he was a fake, an imposter, a con man. She still had no proof—only her word against Alex’s. And against Warren’s.
She couldn’t stop them, but she could make trouble. A hunting accident would take care of the problem quite nicely.
They couldn’t have hoped to get away with it. But that would be a moot point if she were already dead. She wasn’t particularly interested in vindication from beyond the grave.
“Where is he now, do you know?” she asked, reaching for a croissant and proceeding to shred it into tiny pieces.
“In with Sally, I presume.” She turned her limpid gaze on Carolyn, the skin around her almost sixty-year-old eyes tucked and smooth and perfect. “Haven’t you gotten over him yet?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Surely you’re too old to still be infatuated with him? You should have outgrown that years ago.”
“I’m not infatuated with him.”
“You certainly were when you were a child.”
“I’m not a child anymore.”
“No, you’re not. I’m just afraid Alex might have noticed that fact as well. I remember we were always worried that Alex might decide to turn some of his hell-raising proclivities toward you. He didn’t, did he?”
“Didn’t what?”
“Molest you when you were thirteen?” Patsy said bluntly.
There was the kiss that had stayed with her for eighteen years. His strong young body pressed up against hers. But he’d been a child as well, much as he’d tried to cover it up.
“No,” Carolyn said.
“I always wondered, you know. You went into that almost suicidal decline after he disappeared, and you were even more subdued than you had been before. I was afraid he might have done something, or . . . said something the night he left. You did see him, didn’t you? Before he left?”
The lie had been told for eighteen years—it was automatic now. “No,” she said. “The last time I saw Alex was that afternoon at the beach.”
Patsy’s gaze was remarkably clear-eyed. “You don’t remember that horror scene at dinner that night?”
Carolyn shook her head. “I didn’t even remember you were there.”
“Well, I was.” Patsy leaned back in her chair, fiddling with her coffee cup. “I’ve been thinking. Why don’t you get away from here, darling?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I mean it. You’ve devoted your life to my sister, and no one could doubt your dedication. But don’t you think it’s past time you had a life of your own? Sally’s got her son back—she doesn’t need you holding her hand anymore. Surely it’s about time to make a break.”
“I don’t think it’s going to be that much longer, Patsy,” Carolyn said with great gentleness. Patsy had never evinced much grief or affection for her older sister, but Carolyn was always willing to assume it was simply a matter of covering up things that were too painful.
“True enough,” Patsy said blithely, toying with one of the heavy silver forks. “I just thought it might be easier on you.”
“It’s sweet of you to be concerned.”
Patsy’s eyes met hers. “I know what you think of me, Carolyn,” she said softly. “You think I’m a silly, frivolous creature who’s interested in nothing but her own pleasure. But you’re almost like family, I’ve known you since you were two years old, and I care about you.”
Almost like family. Carolyn drained her cup of lukewarm coffee and gave Patsy her most dazzling smile. “It doesn’t matter that Sally doesn’t need me to be here. I need to be here.”
Patsy nodded. “I understand, dear. We all need to be together during this sad time. I just . . .” Her voice trailed away.
“You just . . . ?” Carolyn prompted.
“I just hope that you’re
. . . careful.”
Carolyn froze. “What do you mean?”
Patsy waved a hand airily. “Oh, heavens, I don’t know what I mean. I suppose it’s my maternal instincts coming to the fore. I just worry about everyone.”
As far as Carolyn could see Patsy’s maternal instincts had never surfaced for anyone but George, and her sole worry seemed to be reserved for herself. Either Patsy knew something, or suspected something. And she was far too cagey to admit what it was.
For some reason Carolyn wasn’t expecting Alexander MacDowell, or the man pretending to be him, to walk through the breakfast room door and take a seat at the table with all the insouciant charm of someone who really belonged there.
“We were just talking about you,” Patsy said in a silky voice.
“Were you?” His rich, beautiful mouth curved in a generous smile, and if there was a trace of wariness in his blue eyes, she couldn’t see it. He looked totally at ease, as if she wasn’t capable of bringing his whole masquerade tumbling down. “And what were you saying?” He took the cup of coffee Patsy offered him and began spooning indecent amounts of sugar into it.
“She was warning me to be careful,” Carolyn said.
His eyes met hers, full of mockery and an I-dare-you glint. “What does she think you need to be worried about? Surely not me? I’m completely harmless, aren’t I, Aunt Patsy?”
“Completely,” Patsy said with no trace of irony. “Actually, my telling her to be careful had absolutely nothing to do with you, of course. She fell while she was walking today, and banged herself up a bit. I just warned her to watch where she was going. We don’t want two invalids on our hands.”
His eyes had narrowed, all amusement vanishing. “What happened?”
You know perfectly well what happened, she wanted to scream at him. You either tried to kill me, or to scare me off. “I tripped over the rough ground and went sprawling,” she said instead. “Just clumsiness on my part. I won’t make that mistake again.”
If his mockery had been unsettling, the strange expression in his eyes was even more so. “Patsy’s right,” he said abruptly. “No one wants a nasty accident.”
“There won’t be one,” she said, unable to keep the edge out of her voice.
“Actually,” Patsy said, “I was suggesting that now that you were back among the living, Carolyn ought to give herself a little break. Get away from this place for a while, away from responsibilities and death. After all, Sally has her son back. She doesn’t need Carolyn anymore.” Carolyn might have almost suspected Patsy of deliberate malice in that last statement, but Patsy was too obtuse for that kind of thing.
“It’s nice to know you think I’m all things to all people, Aunt Patsy,” Alex drawled. “But I’m afraid my arrival doesn’t cancel anyone else out, particularly Carolyn, who’s been a far better daughter to Sally than I’ve been a son.”
“Yes, but whether a child is dutiful or not has nothing to do with how much a parent loves them. Of my three children Grace is by far the nicest, most generous, sweetest tempered. And she bores me to tears. Whereas George is fully as self-centered as I am, and I adore him.” Patsy yawned indulgently, then bestowed a blithe smile on the two of them as she rose from the table. “I do wish you two would learn to get along, though. You never did, even when you were young. It would make life so much more pleasant if you could put away your battles for the time being. Either that, or one of you should leave.”
The last thing Carolyn wanted to do was be left alone with Alex, but she couldn’t very well race after Patsy without causing more unwanted questions. And she wasn’t about to let him know just how nervous he made her. Doubtless he suspected, doubtless he was doing everything he could to make her uneasy. But she wasn’t going to do or say anything that would give him proof of his power over her.
“Why is she trying so hard to get rid of you?” he murmured lazily.
“How do you know she’s not trying to get rid of you? She just said one of us should leave.”
“She knows I’m not leaving. That leaves you.”
“She was asking me about the night the real Alex died.” She changed the subject deliberately.
He winced. “Would you mind not bandying that ‘real Alex’ stuff about? You never know who might be listening.”
Carolyn smiled sweetly. “No, we don’t, do we? Are you going to tell your partner in crime that I know?”
“Which one? Oh, you mean Warren? No, I thought I’d leave that up to your discretion. If I were you I’d keep him out of it entirely and just deal with me.”
“And you’re so much less of a threat?”
“Count on it.”
She stared at him across the wide expanse of the table, letting her eyes slowly assess the man who’d tricked her, lied to her, seduced her. Was he also a man who’d tried to kill her when she’d found out too much?
He was almost indecently beautiful, with his Cossack face and his erotic mouth. His blond hair was wet from a morning shower, pushed back away from his face, and he looked like a lost Russian prince, come to claim his throne.
Except that he was a pretender, in more ways than one.
“Are you going to leave?” he reached over and poured himself another cup of coffee, and she had the dubious pleasure of admiring his lean, elegantly muscled body as he stretched. She remembered more about it—the phony scar, low on his hip. His skin, hot, smooth . . .
She jerked herself away from the erotic reverie. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“It would probably be easier. But I’m not trying to force you to go. I’m just curious.”
“Nothing will get me out of here until Sally’s gone,” she said in a terse voice. “No matter what you do.”
“And what do you think I’d be doing?” he countered. “You already said you’d call the police if I touched you again without you asking.”
“And I told you that would be a cold day in hell—”
“Children, children.” Warren strolled into the room, looking disgustingly pleased with himself for a man involved in a criminal conspiracy to defraud his dying sister. “Are you two squabbling again? I swear the two of you have been at each other’s throats since you were infants. I told Patsy you hadn’t grown out of it, but I wish, for the sake of the peace of the household, that you could put your differences aside for the time being.”
“No,” Carolyn said, pushing back from the table.
“No ‘good morning’ for your Uncle Warren?” he asked plaintively, when he was the least avuncular creature in the world.
“Talk to your ‘nephew,’” she said pointedly, and left the room, no longer caring whether it looked like she was running away.
She was.
“WHAT WAS THAT all about?” Warren asked, taking Patsy’s vacated spot at the head of the table and reaching for the coffee.
Alex merely shrugged. “You know Carolyn—she tends to get a bit emotional over inconsequentials.”
“Actually, that’s not the Carolyn I know at all. She’s always been a very reserved, quiet young lady. A perfect MacDowell, in fact.” There was an odd trace of smugness in his voice that Alex couldn’t begin to fathom.
“Interesting that the perfect MacDowell isn’t a MacDowell at all,” he said lazily, waiting to see how Warren would respond.
But Warren was an old campaigner, a wily creature with the soul of a politician and the morals of a businessman. He wasn’t about to let anything out that he wasn’t ready to share. “Life is full of interesting quirks,” he said. “She’s become much more volatile since I last saw her. I assumed it was the stress of Sally’s impending death. She’s always been devoted to her, you know. But now I’m wondering whether you might be the cause of this recent snappishness of hers.”
“Maybe I bring out the worst in her,” Alex suggested.<
br />
“Don’t. We can’t afford to make any enemies we don’t have to. If Carolyn has any doubts as to your identity she could make a very great deal of trouble. Nothing we couldn’t deal with, of course, but I want this whole thing to run as smoothly as possible.”
A nasty suspicion had been niggling at the back of Alex’s mind, formed from Patsy’s seemingly random words and the slightly rumpled state of Carolyn’s clothes. “How would you deal with it?”
“I said ‘we,’ didn’t I? We’re in this together, I presume?” Warren said sharply.
“Of course.”
“If you couldn’t seduce her into being quiet we could always try bribery.”
“I suspect that wouldn’t work any better than seduction.”
“You’re probably right,” Warren said gloomily. “Well, assuming she begins to suspect, we could arrange a little accident.”
Alex froze. “What kind of accident?”
“Oh, nothing fatal. We could work something out. Something to put her in the hospital a few days to get her mind off her suspicions. Or I could do something with Sally’s checkbook. Carolyn’s been handling it, and I could probably manage to cook up an unfortunate discrepancy which I’d have to bring to Sally’s attention.”
“You’re a real sweetheart, aren’t you, Warren?” Alex said wryly, keeping the distaste out of his voice.
“Takes one to know one, my boy. Actually, the real Alex was a little shit. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d turned out worse than either of us if he’d lived.”
Alex took a careful sip of his sweetened coffee. “What makes you think he’s dead?”
“Isn’t it obvious? When there’s this much money involved there’s not much else that could keep him away,” Warren said easily.
“You sounded more certain than that, dear uncle,” he said lightly. “You sounded as if you had specific knowledge of whatever happened to Sally’s son.”
Warren laughed. “You’re imagining things. Don’t get spooky on me, boy. We’re headed into the homestretch. Sally’s on oxygen, and I don’t think she’ll be coming off it. If we can just keep our nerve we should do fine. As long as Carolyn doesn’t start having any bright ideas. I’m not about to give it up at this late date.”