Deception (34 page)

Surprised at how quickly he had shed his usual courteous manner, Jill was immediately on the defensive. “I wasn’t prying. I was just walking around when I saw the box…”

Her mouth suddenly fell open. “You knew.”

Philip blinked. “Knew what?”

She pointed at the photograph in his hand. “About Blair and my father. They were lovers, weren’t they?” She wasn’t sure how she managed to get the words out. “And you knew it. You had to.” Her gaze flickered toward the box under the desk.

There was a long, heavy silence as Philip continued to glare at her. His face was even paler than before, his jaw clenching and unclenching. The only sound Jill was conscious of was the wild pounding of her heart.

“No, I didn’t know.” He spoke in a low voice, but Jill could feel the hatred in every word. “I had no idea what that son of a hitch had done to my daughter. It wasn’t until I went through Blair’s things that I-” He stopped and sucked in a long breath.

Jill gripped the desk behind her. “Oh, my God!” As the horrible truth finally dawned on her, her heart gave a wild lurch. “It was you. You killed my father.”

Philip’s eyes narrowed and his entire body seemed to stiffen. “You couldn’t give it up, could you, Jill? In spite of everything, all the advice people kept giving you, telling you to mind your own business, you still had to play little Miss Marple.”

Jill stared at him in horror. “You did kill him. You murdered my father.”

“Don’t you dare judge me,” he spat. “I’m not the one who took advantage of a young woman half my age, who made her pregnant, who took her to have an abortion she didn’t want.”

“Blair? It was Blair he took to the abortion clinic?” Philip uttered a harsh laugh. “Hard to believe, isn’t it? A man of such integrity, a man who inspired such respect and admiration. In the end, he was nothing but a coward, incapable of facing his responsibilities. He killed my little girl.”

“No…” Jill shook her head. “He couldn’t have…”

“He didn’t do the act, but he might as well have. She killed herself because of him, because of what he made her do.”

“How do you know?” Slowly, she began to skirt around the desk. She had to get away from here, before he killed her, too.

Philip didn’t seem to notice. “Her roommate told me. She knew about the abortion, had witnessed Blair’s growing despondency afterward, her lack of appetite, how she cried herself to sleep every night.”

“Did she know Blair and my father were lovers?”

“No. Blair didn’t tell anyone. That’s why after Blair died, I hired a private detective. I wanted to find the son of a bitch who had done that to her and kill him with my bare hands.”

Jill’s hand felt the outer corner of the desk. “And you found him.”

“Not right away.” He started walking toward her, his pace unhurried, as if he knew she wouldn’t be able to escape. “The investigator came up empty-handed. Simon had covered his tracks well.”

He let out a short, self-deprecating laugh. “And to think I actually tried to save him from Pete Mulligan’s wrath, and kept his dirty little secret. What a good laugh he must have had that night.”

Jill continued to back away.

“Why did you need a detective when you had all the proof you needed right there?” She nodded at the photograph in his hand.

“I didn’t find this snapshot until later.” His voice turned flat, almost dreamlike. “After Blair died, I couldn’t do much of anything. I couldn’t even bring myself to go to the university and pack her things. Her roommate did that for me. I gave the clothes away and only kept this box. Amy had packed it separately, thinking I’d want to keep what was in there. Four weeks ago, I finally had the strength to go through it.”

His eyes suddenly locked with Jill’s. “That was Thanksgiving Day. While the Bennett family was happily celebrating the holiday, I was here, discovering the ugly truth about my daughter and your father.”

“You found the photograph.” She was trying to buy time, trying to gauge the distance between her and the front door. Right now, it seemed miles away.

“I not only found the photograph,” Philip answered, “but I found a set of discharge papers from Alternatives, as well.”

“So why didn’t you confront my father then?”

“Because I’m an attorney, Jill. I believe in proof. I knew the clinic wouldn’t volunteer the information, so I went back to my private investigator. It took him a while but he finally found someone on the staff I knew would help me.” He raised an eyebrow. “You met her, I believe. Nurse Parson?”

As Jill kept inching away from him, she tried not to think of Blair, of all the anguish, disappointment and sadness she had experienced. Later, there would be time for sorrow. But right now, she had to get out of here. Alive.

“So you drove to Livingston Manor, and in cold blood killed my father.”

“No, believe it or not, that was not my intention. Oh, I won’t deny that initially I did want to kill him.

But after a while, I realized that spending the rest of my life in prison was no way to avenge my daughter’s death. I had a much better plan in mind, you see. I was going to destroy him–professionally and personally. I wanted his colleagues, his clients, the whole country to know about his dirty little affair with my daughter, know what he had forced her to do. And above all, I wanted you and Amanda to know. I wanted your mother to leave him, and you, his most precious gift, I wanted you to feel sick every time you looked at him. I wanted him to end up like me, alone and bitter.”

He had become so engrossed in his monologue that he stopped walking. Jill, her back to a broad bookcase, didn’t dare take another step for fear he’d notice and lunge at her. She had to keep him talking. It shouldn’t be hard to do. He wanted to talk, needed to get everything off his chest. And maybe brag a little, show her how clever he’d been in eluding them all.

“If you didn’t want to kill him, then why did you?”

“Because he pushed me too far.”

“How?”

“When I arrived at the house, Simon was drunk and in a mean mood. He told me to go to hell.” A strange sound, halfway between a sob and a laugh, escaped from Philip’s throat. “He wasn’t even grieving for my daughter.”

“I don’t believe that.” Why was she defending him? A man she no longer knew.

“No.” Philip’s voice was strangely distant. “I don’t suppose you would. You’ve always had him on such a high pedestal.”

Although she had little experience with reverse psychology, she decided to give it a try. “That’s true, I did, but I was wrong to think of him as a perfect man.”

His eyes narrowed. “A second ago, you were defending him.”

“That’s because he’s my father. But I’m not blind, Philip. Or stupid. I know he’s done despicable things and I know he hurt you.”

“Blair is the one he hurt. She couldn’t live with the thought that she had killed her baby, a baby she wanted.” A dry sob caught in his throat. “If only she had told me. I would have brought her back home, helped her raise the child. Instead, she went to him.”

In spite of her total concentration on staying alive, Jill felt her eyes fill with tears. “I’m sorry, Philip. I wish there was something

I-”

To her horror, he reached for the green silk cord that held the heavy drapes and yanked it free. Looking at her, he snapped the cord taut

Jill went numb with fear.

Thirty-Six

“All right!” Dan exclaimed as he landed on Park Place. “Sell me that baby.”

Frankie, his bandaged ankle stretched out on the sofa, hit the cushion with his small fist. “That’s not fair, Uncle Dan. You always get Park Place.”

“Yeah,” Nick said as he sat on the other side of the Monopoly board. “And Boardwalk, too. And look how many utilities he’s got.”

Chuckling wickedly, Dan counted his play money. “Quit whining, you two, and hand over the property.”

As Nick, who had appointed himself banker, took the bills, Maria ducked her head in the living room. “Phone call, Dan. A woman from Fairfax, Virginia.”

At those words, Dan scrambled to his feet. “Sorry, guys. I’ll try to make it quick.”

Cynthia Parson barely gave him time to say hello. “I know who Jack is,” she said in a shaky voice.

Dan glanced at Maria, who was putting a casserole in the oven. “I thought you couldn’t identify him.”

“I recognized his voice. He was in Richmond yesterday, with Jill Bennett.”

“What?”

“He was talking to a group of people outside the municipal building. Something to do with a Civil War camp. I just caught a replay of his speech on my local television station.”

A cold chill settled in the pit of Dan’s stomach. Only one person had gone to Richmond with Jill—Van Horn. “What’s the man’s name?”

“Philip Van Horn. He’s the company’s attorney.”

“Are you sure it’s the same man?”

“Very sure. The height is about right, though I now realize he was trying to appear shorter by stooping, but the voice is unmistakably his. I recognized his accent, especially the way he said ‘perform’ as if there was no r in it, and ‘our.”

She was right. Although Philip had moved to New York many years ago, he had never lost his Boston accent.

“Thank you, Cynthia.” Knowing it had taken great courage for her to make this call, he wanted to reassure her. “I’m going to keep your name out of this as much as I can, so try not to worry, okay?”

From the sound of her voice as she said goodbye, he wasn’t sure she believed him.

After hanging up, he immediately dialed Jill’s loft. She had told him she’d be leaving work early tonight so she could look special for their “hot date.”

He waited out the four rings then hung up as the machine came on.

Holding the button down long enough to disconnect the call, he punched in B&A’s number, already annoyed at Jill for working past five o’clock, which was not part of their deal. He was told by the security guard that everyone had gone home.

Fear gnawed at him. Something wasn’t right here.

She was supposed to let him know of any change in plans.

Walking over to the kitchen chair, where he had tossed his jacket earlier, he took out a small address book. After locating Ashley’s number, which he had jotted down along with several others, he dialed it.

Ashley hadn’t seen Jill but she instantly picked up on Dan’s anxiety. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “I thought the two of you were going out.”

“We’re supposed to. Look, Ashley, if you hear from her, tell her to stay put and not open her door for anyone.”

“Dan, you’re scaring me.”

“Just try to find her, Ashley.”

His call to the Bennetts’ town house was equally frustrating. Amanda was having dinner with an old friend, and Henry hadn’t seen Jill since the previous day.

Cyrus was more insistent and demanded to know what was going on. Because he saw no need to frighten Jill’s family just yet, or risk a manhunt that might put Jill in even greater danger, Dan managed to satisfy her uncle’s curiosity without arousing his suspicion.

While Maria threw quick, worried glances in his direction, Dan considered his next option-to call Van Horn. He’d play dumb and ask the attorney if he had seen Jill. The ruse didn’t guarantee Philip wouldn’t hurt her, but it might give him enough reason not to.

When the operator told him the number was unlisted, Dan slammed the phone down and leaned his forehead against the wall, trying to think. rationally

“Something wrong?” Joe was beside him, a worried expression on his face.

Dan pulled away from the wall. “I know who the killer is.” He gave his brother a dark look. “Philip Van Horn.”

Joe looked astounded. “How do you know?”

“I can’t go into that right now. I’ve got to find Jill.”

Joe’s features tightened as the cop in him took over. “You think she’s with him?”

“I don’t know. I hope not. I’ve already called everyplace I could think of and she’s nowhere to be found.”

“What about that secretary you like? Would she know something?”

Cecilia. Why hadn’t he thought of that?

She answered in the same brisk business tone she used at the office, softening it only after Dan had identified himself. “Dan, what-”

“Cecilia, I’m in a terrible hurry,” Dan said tersely. “Jill could be in danger. Do you know where she went?”

“Why, no.” Cecilia’s voice shook as she talked. “Cathie might. What kind of danger?”

“I don’t have time to explain. What I need right now is Philip Van Horn’s address and phone number. And Cathie’s, too.”

He half expected Cecilia to tell him she wasn’t supposed to give out addresses and phone numbers, but she didn’t. She did, however, ask him to call her back the moment he located Jill.

The only sound he heard when he dialed Van Horn’s phone was a busy signal. In frustration, he slammed the phone down, waited a beat then called Cathie.

“Yes, I know where she is,” the secretary said in reply to his question. “She went to Philip Van Horn’s house. He forgot to sign-”

Dan had already hung up. “She’s at Van Horn’s house,” he told his brother.

As Dan grabbed his jacket, Joe did the same. “I’m coming with you. Just let me tell Maria.”

Within seconds, the two brothers were in the Land Rover, speeding toward the Shore Expressway.

Her eyes riveted to the green cord, Jill took a step backward, felt a table behind her and went around it.

“Too bad you didn’t learn your lesson that night on MacDougal Street, Jill. You could have saved yourself a lot of trouble. But you wouldn’t quit, would you?”

He held the braided cord fully extended. “Your father wouldn’t quit, either. He kept insulting me, kept telling me his relationship with Blair was none of my business. He refused to take responsibility for her death, and he laughed when I told him I was going to destroy him. You know what he said to me? He said to forget the whole thing and move on with my life.” He laughed. “As if my daughter’s death was something I could just discard, like an old shoe.

“That’s when I went crazy. I grabbed the nearest thing within my reach-a brass candelabra-and hit him with it.”

Jill closed her eyes, shocked at the sudden and devastating pain she felt as she finally found out how her father had died. Yes, he had done something vile and unforgivable, but Dan was right, in spite of it all, she still loved him.