Long Simmering Spring (31 page)

“Hi, Rhonda Lee. It’s just Julie, calling for a pickup.”

“Hi, honey. Hank’s on duty tonight. I’ll send him to your office right away.”

After she got off the phone, she packed up her gear and went to the front room to wait for Hank. As Rhonda Lee had promised, she didn’t have to wait long. A rap sounded on the front door only five minutes after the call. Peering through the newly installed door’s peephole, she confirmed it was Hank and undid the lock. The good-looking sandy-haired man stood there in full uniform. She gave him a smile.

“Hi, Hank. Thanks for coming out tonight.”

“No problem, Dr. Kensington.”

“Please,” she said. “We’ve talked about this. Call me Julie.”

He inclined his head, and said, “Julie,” to placate her, but she knew he wouldn’t stick to it. She’d be Dr. Kensington again tomorrow.

“Mind taking a quick detour?” she asked.

“Not at all. Where to?”

“The Wright Read. I just . . . need another distraction.”

He nodded sagely, as if he knew exactly what she was talking about. “Sure. Lock up, and then we’ll head over.”

Quickly, she locked the front door, then walked with Hank down Front Street to Main, before turning onto Edgar. When they reached the front door to the bookstore, Hank’s radio started crackling.

“You go on inside,” he said, reaching for the unit. “I’ll be there in a moment.”

She nodded at him, since he was already talking, and slipped into the cool, familiar store. She breathed in the aroma of paper, leather, and wood, remembering why she loved this place so much.

Max and Karen were nowhere in sight, so she started browsing the new paperback arrivals stacked up near the cash register by the front. A few looked good, so she tucked them under her arm to ask Max about. She was just about to walk into the back to find him when a book in the big glass case behind the checkout area caught her eye. Could it be a signed copy of the new Arturo Pérez-Reverte novel? She got closer. Yes, it was, and she just had to have a closer look! Surely Max wouldn’t mind if she took a peek.

She put the books she was carrying onto the counter and walked to the glass case. It wasn’t locked, so she simply slid it open and pulled out the book. God, it was just beautiful! She flipped the front cover open to look for the author’s signature. There it was, inscribed in all its bold elegance, the block-like letters a punctuation mark on the title page. She sighed and closed the cover, wondering whether it was worth it to pay full hard-cover price for the tome.
Not today
. Not when she was so lonely and sad.

Julie put the book down and slid the case shut. Where were Max and Karen, anyway? She walked down the corridor to see if either of them was in the office. As she approached, she saw Max. He had his back toward her.

She was about to call out to him when he turned to his side. He was holding a familiar-looking object in his hand. It wasn’t . . . it couldn’t be . . . . one of her missing prescription pads?

Her heart stopped.

Though she was about ten feet away, she could still make out the shape of her name—the font, the script, the color.
Hers.

But, that would mean that Karen or Max . . .

No!
She had to get out of the store as fast as she could. Hoping he hadn’t seen her, she turned quickly and made for the door. She couldn’t wrap her mind around the possibility that they were involved. Surely this was just some awful mistake. The Wrights? The idea didn’t compute in her head. But the proof was there, sure as Sunday.

She was almost to the door when a familiar voice called out.

“Turn around.”

Max
. She ignored him and kept walking.

“Turn around. I have a gun.”

That
made her stop. Slowly, she turned.

“Damn it, Julie,” Max said. “Why’d you have to sneak up on me like that?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she lied calmly despite the fluttering in her chest. “I was just up here looking around.”

“You’re an awful liar.” His voice was hard. “I know you saw it.”

She simply stared at him. Who was this alien creature standing before her? She didn’t even recognize this person she’d once called a friend. Instead of his usual robust self, he seemed haggard and worn. His wavy hair, recently simply gray at the temples, now sported a shock of white. There were large bags under his eyes and he looked as if he hadn’t slept in days. But all of that paled in comparison to his cold, mean gaze and the silver pistol trained directly on her.

“Max, I was just looking at the books,” she said. Max simply stared at her and cocked the gun. He was right. She
was
an awful liar. There wasn’t any way around the situation, so she just had to power through. She swallowed hard. “Max, why?”

He shrugged. “Why do people do anything? Money, of course. Or revenge.”

“Revenge? What did I do to you to make you hate me?”

“Oh, I don’t hate you. It was purely a business proposition on my part. Can’t say the same thing about Rathbone, though.”

“
You
were the one who sicced Don on me?”

Max snorted. “You think he’s smart enough to act on his own? No way. Had to push his buttons in just the right way. Whisper little things in his ear about how you were breaking his family apart. I thought he’d scare you enough so you’d start getting sloppy with your work, or at least keep your focus elsewhere. Then I could deal with getting my job done.”

“Oh, my God,” Julie breathed. “Cole was right. You’re the one behind all of this. Not Don.” Hank was right outside, but how was she going to get his attention without alerting Max? Carefully, she began to inch backward, wanting so desperately to feel the hard wood of the heavy door against her shoulder blades.

Max snorted. “Don couldn’t have thought up a scheme like this by himself. I fed him information bit by bit—you helping Margo, your routine. All he needed was to keep you preoccupied. But he always went a little too far. No surprise. Everything Don touches gets fouled up.”

Julie was so close to the door she could almost touch it. Just as she thought about making a run for it, Max spoke.

“Oh, I can’t let you leave, Julie. Not now.” From ten feet away she could see a muscle twitch over his right eye.

She didn’t know whether to laugh or to scream. On top of everything else that had happened to her this month, she was going to be shot and killed. She could see the headline in the Star Harbor
Gazette
now: “Local doctor murdered and dumped in alley.”

Without moving closer to the door, she turned slightly, with her right side away from Max, and slowly placed her hand in her right pants pocket. Her cell phone was where she’d left it. Hoping that Max couldn’t see what she was doing, she pressed the key to speed-dial Cole. She prayed that she’d hit the right button. And prayed even harder that he wouldn’t ignore her call.

She had to stay calm. Maybe she could buy time by talking. Even seconds counted, both to let Cole know where she was and to stay alive. Crossing her fingers that he’d picked up the line, she tried to speak slowly, without any hint of fear. “You haven’t told me everything, have you, Max?”

“Move away from the door, Julie.”

“Hank’s right outside the bookstore, you know, waiting for me to come out. He’ll be in any second.” As she spoke, she moved even nearer to the exit.

“Stop playing with me. Get away from the door!” he said sharply. “I mean it!” His hand holding the gun didn’t shake.

Keep him talking. Keep him focused on himself
. She was thinking like a cop now. She hoped that meant she wouldn’t die. “Why did you trash my house?”

“Oh, I had Don do that to give you a scare. And if he could grab the pads in the process, it would make it look like a straight-up robbery.” He shrugged. “Obviously, it didn’t work.”

“You bailed him out time and time again? He’s dangerous, Max! He came after me, beat his own son—you knew what you were doing when you unleashed him on Star Harbor.”

“Don was a wild card, I’ll give you that. But he was always expendable to the operation. Look, if you’d just let the missing pads go, we could have avoided all of this.”

Julie frowned. “But the first set of pads went missing months ago. How’d you even know that I did any kind of follow-up?”

“Because you ordered a new batch.”

“Which you stole. And you know what else I realized? Don went after me on the pier even before that. You’ve been using him to keep me off the scent for a while now, haven’t you?”

Max set his lips into a straight line, and she knew she was right. “Like I said, I’m sorry you got caught in the crossfire,” he said, but he didn’t seem sorry at all. “You may not believe this, but I honestly didn’t want you involved. I needed those prescription pads, and it was easiest to get them from you. I realized you knew the second batch was stolen when I heard you telling Karen you’d ordered new ones. I figured the old serial numbers were hot, so I tried to head off the delivery at your house. Obviously, I missed it.”

So he was the one who’d left those footprints in the shed. Now that she was in so deep, she needed to connect everything. “What, exactly, did you need the pads for?”

His eyes narrowed and he stepped toward her. Instinctively, she stepped backward, but he simply closed the distance between them and took her by the upper arm, turning her to face the back of the shop. “You think I was always a bookseller?” He placed the gun at her back and began to prod her to walk forward. She didn’t know if the question was rhetorical, so she didn’t answer. He went on. “No, the store was Karen’s dream, not mine. When we met, I was doing something entirely different. Something much more lucrative. Not that she knew. I gave it up when we got married.” He spoke casually, as if they were simply at Babs’s house having dinner. “An old friend contacted me. Asked if I wanted some side work. I said yes. This shop is a money pit.” She tried to walk slower, but he prodded her with the gun again. “Move.”

“So you’re a drug dealer. And so is Don.”

“Don’s a pathetic user. At his best, he was a gofer. But my job is more . . . specialized.”

“What does that even mean?”

“May as well tell you now,” Max said. “Even in the old days, I was always the middleman. I get the order, then I supply the raw material to our manufacturers. The friend who got me in is my only contact. I don’t know who runs the operation, and I don’t know who distributes. At that point, it’s not my problem.”

“Not your problem? Come on.” Julie couldn’t help the incredulity that slipped into her voice. “People have been getting hurt, sick.
Killed
.” It was reckless to engage Max in a discussion like this with a gun pointed at her back, but she was running out of ideas. All she could do was to keep talking. As long as she was talking, she was still alive. Max didn’t speak, so Julie pressed her case. “That’s right, Max. A lot of people have already died from the drugs you’ve been making. If it stays out on the streets, more will die, too. You want that on your conscience?”

“Don’t preach at me,
Doctor.
I have a mortgage to pay and a family to support. You have no idea of the pressure I’m under.”

They were at the back door now—the door that led right out to the alleyway. All Julie knew was that heading out there was a bad idea. Max wouldn’t have told her all of this if he didn’t intend to kill her. And once she disappeared out back, Hank would have no way to find her. She had to stall.

“Sure I do, Max,” she said, turning slowly, so that he wouldn’t freak out and shoot her by accident. “I have my own business too, you know. There were other ways.”

“Don’t you think I tried?” There was an edge to his voice now. “I’d started fudging the numbers so Karen wouldn’t realize we were in the red, but all that did was mess things up more.”

“Karen would have understood.” Julie lowered her voice to try to calm him down.

“No!” he said, his face a mask of intensity. “Karen
wouldn’t
have understood.” He was flushed, angry. “And it’s your fault she hired that damned accountant! She never would have figured it out!”

She had to keep reasoning with him. “Don’t you think she would have eventually, Max? She’s not stupid.”

He was right up in front of her now, and the muscle twitching over his eye spasmed hard. The pressure of the gun, now pressed into her stomach, was the only thing that was real anymore.

“Open the door,” he said, his voice low. Slowly, she reached behind her and felt for the doorknob. She still had a chance. She could escape from him in the alley. Maybe use one of the garbage can lids to hit him, immobilize him, the way she and Cole had practiced. “Pull it open and walk out.”

She did as he asked, waiting to make her move. But just as she’d gotten the door pried open, Hank appeared, gun drawn.

“Police!” he yelled. “Hands where I can see them!”

Directly in the door frame, Julie raised her hands, but Max didn’t comply. In a split second, he grabbed her, never once losing contact between his gun and her flesh, and swung her in front of him.

“Back up, Hank!” he yelled back.

Hank froze, his gaze trained on Max. “Don’t do this, Max,” he said. “Put your gun down and let Dr. Kensington go. It’ll go easier on everyone if you just listen to me now.”

“Put
your
gun down.” The gun was pointed at her temple now. “Or else she gets it.” Before she could blink, Hank had thrown his weapon onto the ground. “Now give me ten minutes, or I swear to God, she will die.”

Hank gave one curt nod, and then Max dragged her out the door. But The Wright Read’s door was set a foot above the alleyway, and as she stepped back, she stumbled, twisting her ankle. As she went down, Max still holding on to her, a huge, darkened figure moved out of the shadows and grabbed onto Max’s arm. Max lost his balance, and a split second later a bullet whizzed by her ear and ricocheted off the brick wall, the centuries-old clay splintering upon impact.

Max let her go, and as fast as she could, she scrambled away from where he and the other man were fighting, Max trying to regain his balance. Max fired up at the big man, who jerked with the impact of the direct hit, forcing his face into a sliver of lamplight.