Dark Secrets 2: No Time to Die; The Deep End of Fear (36 page)

"This is it, Katie," Joseph called out to me, trying to catch my attention. "You're not leaving me alone with this kid, are you?"

I turned around and saw that I had walked past the S.U.V. "Sorry."

Patrick got in the back of the vehicle and I in the front. When I checked to see if his seat belt was fastened, he glared at me.

Joseph must have read the pain on my face. "Don't take him so seriously, Katie. His brain has been scrambled by whatever Trent gave him."

But I knew it wasn't the effect of the sedative. Patrick had begun to pull away from me the night I discovered him playing the piano the same way Ashley had played to annoy Joseph. And the look on his face now—defiance and fear—I had seen that two days ago when rescuing him from the pond.

A new thought occurred to me, one so strange and chilling, goose bumps rose at the back of my neck. At the pond I had been trying to get Patrick to tap into the moments when Ashley was lured onto the ice, hoping she saw who was responsible and that he could learn the murderer's identity from her. What if he had learned that it was "my tutor"?

I turned slowly toward Joseph and watched him drive, popping Life Savers into his mouth, wiping the sweat off his brow, looking like a normal, overweight guy on a warmish day in March. Joseph? Impossible.

But he had been there the day Ashley had died. And he knew I was taking Patrick to the pond after school in an effort to learn about her death. He knew about the reappearance of November, but I hadn't told him the cat was killed—our conversation at Tea Leaves was cut short when Trent and Margery arrived. It wouldn't have been hard to find an orange tabby that resembled November from a distance. Had Joseph hidden among the trees that day? Had he called me on the cell phone, disguising his voice, baiting me, knowing the one reason I'd leave Patrick for a moment was to protect him from a furious Robyn?

"What is it?" Joseph asked, suddenly aware that I was gazing at him.

We were stopped at a red light, and his brown eyes looked steadily into mine, a small frown forming above them. "Is something wrong?"

I shook my head and looked away. "No, I was just thinking."

How wel did I know this man? No better than I knew Trent, or Robyn, or Brook—I only thought I did because he seemed to be on my side.

The light changed, and Joseph drove on.

He had no reason to kill Ashley, I told myself. He had no reason to bait Patrick. People, sane ones, don't murder people they simply don't like. And even if there was some motive sufficient for deadly revenge against the Westbrooks, something I knew nothing about, why would a person who hated them
that
much suddenly help me rescue Patrick? It didn't make sense.

I wished I could talk to Sam. I could count on Sam to say what he thought, to argue with me til we were blue in the face, til we got to the truth. Sam was the only one I could really trust.

Chapter 22

Joseph pulled into the empty lot at the front of the auction house. The long building was closed up tight. I don't see Adrian," he said, sounding a little miffed.

"He's probably in the back. He said he would take care of the alarm and the dogs, then meet us at the front door."

Joseph glanced in the rearview mirror, then climbed out and opened the door for Patrick. Dizzy from the ride, Patrick grasped Joseph's hand as he walked toward the building's front entrance. I watched them a moment, then checked the driveway that circled the building for fresh tire tracks. As mad as my suspicion of Joseph seemed, I didn't want to be here alone with him.

Two sets of tracks scarred the sandy road. Someone has followed Adrian, I thought. Trent?

The auction house door opened. Relief shone on Adrian's face.

"Patrick!"

Patrick ran to his father, but his feet were clumsy and his balance off. He tripped and fell. Adrian rushed out the door, picked up his son, and carried him into the auction house. Joseph and I followed, Joseph quietly closing the door behind us.

Sitting on a bench, Adrian held Patrick close to him. "I was so afraid for you," he said, his voice cracking. He touched his son's face lovingly. "Who did this to you? Who took you from me?"

Patrick pulled back to gaze at his father, then looked around the cavernous building, as if searching for an answer among the jumble of furniture. His eyes stopped at me and he pointed.

"What?" I exclaimed. "That's not true! Joseph and I rescued you." I met Adrian's eyes. "You must believe me."

"I do, Kate," Adrian replied. "Patrick, who was in the room with you, before Kate and Joseph found you?"

"Trent."

Adrian's mouth stiffened. "Anyone else?"

"Miss Margery."

"And who else?"

"Nobody."

"Are you sure?"

Patrick thought for a moment, then nodded.

"Who took you from your bedroom last night?"

Patrick gazed about him, and I expected to be accused again.

"I don't remember."

"Who drove you to the hotel?"

"I was asleep," Patrick said. "When I woke up, I was in a big bed. I wasn't home anymore."

"Before you went to bed at home, did someone give you something to drink? Perhaps a little treat?" Adrian asked.

"Kate did."

I shook my head.

"Kate wasn't there," Adrian reminded him.

Patrick thought again. "Mommy did."

Adrian sighed. "All right. We'll talk some more when you're feeling better." He stood up, still holding his son. "I'm taking Patrick out to the car."

"He can walk if you hold his hand and move slowly," I said, for Adrian seemed out of breath. Patrick wasn't light, and the building was as long as a playing field.

I can carry him," Adrian replied. This was his little boy, and he didn't want to let go.

I walked with him, and Joseph followed.

"I don't want Kate to come," Patrick said. "Please, Daddy, don't let her."

Adrian turned to Joseph and me. "I would like both of you to remain here so we can talk. It's time to get to the bottom of this foolishness."

"You can't leave Patrick alone in the car," I protested.

"I've brought someone else who will take him to a safe place."

The second set of tracks, I thought.

"Still, Adrian, I'd like to—"

"If you care about Patrick, you will stay here," he said firmly. "I don't want him frightened any more than he already is."

I swallowed hard and nodded.

As soon as the door closed behind Adrian and Patrick, Joseph began to pace. He paused to finger merchandise, picking up and putting down stemware, teacups, soup bowls, dinner plates. I wanted—to blurt out my suspicions. I wanted Joseph to look stunned, then explain to me how it couldn't be so. I couldn't stand thinking there was a chance he had murdered Ashley. Nervous and cold, I rubbed my hands together, then folded my arms across my chest.

Beneath the thin soles of my shoes, the building's concrete floor felt like a block of ice. Emergency lights were on at each exit, and two ceiling lights lit either end of the rectangular structure, but in between the space was a confusion of objects and shadows. The balcony receded into darkness. This was no place to be alone with a murderer—no place to ask if he was one. Still, I had to know. "Joseph?"

He was immersed in his own thoughts.

"Joseph?"

He turned suddenly to look at me. "What?" he asked, his voice sharper than usual.

"Sorry. Never mind."

To my relief, I heard the back door open again and Adrian's footsteps. "Now," he said, when he reached us, "we have some matters to settle."

"We do, indeed," Joseph agreed. "You owe me, Adrian. Who knows what could have happened to Patrick if Katie and I hadn't found him."

"I admit, this last bit of shenanigans has caught me by surprise," Adrian said. "I believed that Kate had taken him, and that Trent would find him at your house, Joseph."

"How could you?" I asked. "How could you not trust me after all that has happened?"

Adrian rested a hand on my shoulder. "I underestimated how true blue you are. My apologies, Kate. I've made some—some rather poor decisions lately."

His voice sounded, tired. In the thin fluorescent lighting, his skin looked pallid. "So, Joseph, what exactly is it that you want?"

"You know. FedEx delivered."

"Twice," Adrian answered. "Twice a waste of your money and my time."

I remembered the package Adrian had opened in front of me, the one with the blue-striped envelope inside—Olivia's stationery. I had seen it earlier today, when Joseph was looking for a store tag. The slim hope I had clung to, that Joseph wanted nothing more than reward money, faded.

"If you think I will pay you a dime," Adrian went on, "you're even more ridiculous than I thought."

Joseph's neck turned pink.

I realize you were disappointed by your mother's estate. She left you with quite a mess, didn't she?"

His face grew mottled.

"But I thought you were earning an honest living now, you know, writing about the Conservatory, rubbing elbows with more talented musicians."

"You'll live to regret this," Joseph whispered.

"will I?" Adrian laughed. "Perhaps you forgot—with so little time to live, there is not much I fear anymore."

"You should fear for Patrick," Joseph replied quickly. "You know what I'm talking about—you received my warnings. You must have guessed who loosened the bolts on the swing set."

I cringed. I had told Joseph how Patrick preferred the old play equipment.

"And then there was the little accident on the ice," Joseph added.

I had given him that opportunity, too, tell ing him I was taking Patrick to the pond that day.

"I didn't think I could pull it off, not when Katie wouldn't take the bait and go to the barn," Joseph continued in a boasting voice. "I had to think fast.

Brook's phone number was listed. And I was sure he didn't pay enough attention to his mother to know the names of her stable boys—that part was easy.

But the timing…" Joseph smiled to himself. "The timing was delicate."

"You were there in the trees, watching us," I said accusingly.

"It was a wonder you didn't smell me out with my collection of fish and a rank old tomcat in a cage," Joseph replied, obviously enjoying his own story.

He turned to Adrian. "My window of opportunity was small for tossing the fish on the ice and releasing the cat. Even if Katie had gone to the barn, I counted on her to return quickly to check on Patrick. Oh, I didn't plan to kill Patrick," Joseph added. "No, no, I didn't miss my mark, Adrian. I executed perfectly—getting him on the ice just before Katie could notice and save him, sending a warning I knew you'd understand. After all, I had to let Patrick live long enough for one more chance at a deal. But not next time. Next time is for keeps."

"You're a pathetic man," Adrian said, and began to walk away. "You're sick, you're delusional, thinking this game will work."

"Adrian!"

He turned at the shrill sound of my voice.

"Joseph means it. He killed Ashley."

Adrian's eyes moved quickly to Joseph, then back to me. Joseph said nothing. I couldn't bear to look at him. In my mind, his face was that of a friend, and I couldn't stand to see the betrayal on it.

"Joseph is nothing more than pathetic, Kate," Adrian said. "He is a wimp, a whiner, a person who blames others for his own failings. He hasn't the guts or skill to do anything challenging, much less murder."

"But he killed her," I insisted. "Patrick has been tapping into a trace of Ashley's thoughts. That's why he keeps talking about her as if she is alive. He knows Ashley hated and feared her tutor, and he is transferring. those feelings to me."

"Thank you, Jim Parker," Joseph remarked. I had hoped his paranormal mumbo jumbo would distract you.

"I don't understand, Kate," Adrian said. "What motive could Joseph have had?"

"Money. That's plenty of motive for you, isn't it, Joseph?" The anger that was surging through me finally enabled me to turn to him.

"I rather like it, yes."

"Who paid you to do it?" I asked.

Joseph didn't reply.

"Trent or Robyn," I guessed. "Robyn was horribly jealous of Ashley. And Trent had learned that she was my father's child."

Joseph smiled. "That's the delightful part about this family. They're the kind of people who provide plenty of cover for a murderer. Of course, nice people, like you and your mother, can provide cover, too, as Adrian has proven so well. It was he who hired me."

I turned and stared at Adrian with disbelief. "You," I said softly.

Adrian gazed back, his face mild, his blue eyes expressionless. He wasn't going to deny it.

"I told you he couldn't be trusted," Joseph said. "I told you, Katie, he'd burn everyone but a Westbrook—me, your mother"—his voice grew whiny—"but you didn't believe me." "I can't—'

" Adrian couldn't endure the thought of his money going to a grandchild who wasn't his own blood," Joseph went on. "Corinne had made a fool of him, convincing him that Ashley was a Westbrook. Even so, he didn't want to cut off Corinne and Ashley, not publicly. Nor did Adrian want Trent to file for divorce. Either way, Adrian and Trent would have to admit they had been suckered by Corinne, and Adrian was much too proud for that.

"But if Trent did not admit it, if he took the blame for a failed marriage, he'd lose a large sum of money in the divorce settlement. That would never do.

No, an
accidental
death was the only way to eliminate Ashley while saving face and money. Adrian wagered that Corinne, feeling nothing for Trent and having lost her darling brat on the estate, would leave, which she did."

"The two of you killed Ashley." I was still struggling to believe the horrifying idea.

I baited her with the rabbit, yes. I watched her go under. Adrian likes others to do his dirty work. I told you, Katie," he said with the voice of a schoolteacher annoyed that a student hadn't listened, "he uses others, then discards them. He paid only half of what he promised me. Half! And he did nothing to get me admitted to the Conservatory."

"You never change, Joseph," Adrian said. "You're always blaming others for your own failures." He moved slowly toward the wall where there was a bench and sat down heavily. "I didn't pay the balance because you stupidly, lavishly spent the first payment within two days, calling attention to yourself and therefore to me, at the very time that Ashley died. You left me no choice. I had to stop the money and quickly take precautions against a police inquiry, hiring a private investigator, pointing him in the direction of Victoria, in case I needed a suspect."

I swallowed several times, but could not get the bitterness out of my throat. Adrian didn't care how many lives he destroyed as long as he kept the Westbrook money and reputation intact. I began to back away, not out of fear but repulsion.

Adrian eyed me and said to Joseph, "Now that you have set Kate straight, you have earned yourself another job. Kill her."

I froze at his words. It was a nightmare turned real: I had no voice to scream; my legs wouldn't move.

"Kill her, and you'll get your money. Please don't misunderstand, Kate," Adrian added. "I like you. I like you very much. It's a matter of priorities."

"Family first," Joseph remarked with a giggle.

"Exactly."

"But two for the price of one, Adrian, that's not fair. I want triple the money," Joseph said, laughing nervously, like a child who knew he was asking too much. "Ashley's fee, Katie's, and a fee to keep Patrick safe."

"You're ridiculous."

"Aren't I, though? Triple." Joseph continued to laugh in a high-pitched way that set my teeth on edge. My feet suddenly could feel again. I turned and ran.

"Get her!"

"Who, me?" Joseph asked.

"Stop her. She can sink us both."

"Toss me some money, Adrian. Make me a deal."

I dodged a handcart and kept running. I was halfway to the closest exit, the rear one, when I heard a door slam back against a wall and the barking of dogs. I glanced over my shoulder. Through a side entrance came a blur of motion, black and tan, two large shepherds, Joseph took off toward the front of the building. The dogs barked anxiously, eager to chase, waiting for their command.

"What are you doing?" Joseph shouted back at Adrian. "Put them away. I was bluffing."

Adrian laughed, then gave two commands. I glanced back again. The dogs separated. Joseph ran toward the balcony steps. I turned and raced down a row of chairs and chests.

A dog was quickly on my traill. I climbed over a sofa, landed hard on my ankle in the next aisle, and continued running. In a single leap the dog was there, in my aisle, getting closer with each second.

"Call it off, Adrian," I heard Joseph scream. He sounded higher up. "Call it off."

"Too late," Adrian replied.

Ahead of me was a line of bureaus, tall ones, side by side. I pulled out a lower drawer, used it as a step, and propelled myself over the furniture. The dog was confused for a moment, its bark changing tone. Then it found a desk farther down the line and slipped under, hot in pursuit again.