Midnight Jewels (41 page)

"For a couple of thieves who had taken advantage of my generosity?" Gladstone sounded appalled at such an idea. "I wasn't aware they both had criminal records when I hired them. I was very shocked when the sheriff informed me."

"I can imagine. Everyone must be feeling sorry for you. So the cops aren't worried about any possible connection between them and you?"

"The authorities understand that I am merely an innocent, victimized employer. Apparently Dallas and Lance robbed a motel the other night. They gave the sheriff some nonsense about having been sent by me to do it, but the sheriff didn't buy that ridiculous tale for a minute. I'm afraid their past is against them."

"Somehow I'm not surprised."

"The story they gave the sheriff about how they came to be tied up in a ghost town, however, was far more interesting," Gladstone continued thoughtfully. "They claimed they were chasing a burglar down the mountain and that this man vanished in Drifter's Creek. When they stopped to search for him they found nothing but ghosts. They remember very little of the incident. I, of course, informed the sheriff that nothing was missing from my home and that I had to assume Lance and Dallas were involved in another private scheme. I did hint, however, that there might be a third man involved and
that there might have been a falling out among thieves. That would explain how my two employees came to be found with such incriminating evidence in their possession."

"So the sheriff is now looking for a third thief?"

"Relax, Falconer, I don't think he's looking very hard. He
assumes the man will have left the area after having abandoned his buddies. The sheriff is pleased to think that trouble has moved out of his neighborhood."

"All neat and tidy."

"I like tilings neat and tidy, Mr. Falconer."

"So do I," Croft said. "Make sure Isobel is at that gate at dawn." He hung up the phone before Gladstone could respond.

Mercy sat on the bed, waiting for the details. Her hands were clasped tightly in her lap and her eyes were very large in her face. "Well?" she asked bluntly.

"It's all settled as far as Gladstone is concerned. He thinks I'm a petty thief who's willing to turn
Valley
over to him for fifty thousand."

"That's hardly a petty sum."

Croft shrugged. "I had to make the number big enough to convince him I meant business but not so huge that he might suspect I thought the book was really priceless to him. Fifty thousand doesn't sound like a vast sum of money to a man like Gladstone."

"Everything's relative," Mercy agreed with a sigh. "I could open a couple of bookstores with that kind of money."

"Everything is not relative. Some things are absolute."

"I know. Properly prepared tea, honor and vengeance."

"And love."

She ignored that, eyeing him intently. "So now what? I heard you say you're going to meet dizzy Izzy at dawn. It's not going to take you all night to drive back into those mountains. It's a four-hour drive at the most. Believe me, I timed every minute of it last night. If you left now, you could be there by eight o'clock this evening."

"I was planning on getting there around nine. I prefer to work in full dark."

Mercy took a deep breath. "You're not really planning to
meet Isobel in the morning, are you? You're going to try to get into the compound tonight."

"I want this finished by dawn," Croft said. He waited for her to absorb the implications.

"What about Isobel?"

"I don't care about Isobel. It's Gladstone I want."

"You're sure he's Graves?" Mercy pressed quietly.

"I'm sure. Even if he wasn't Graves I would still have to do something about him now."

"Because he sent Dallas and Lance to kill us?"

"Because he probably meant to kill you after I suffered my 'drowning accident' and because he definitely sent Dallas and Lance to kill you after we escaped from the party." Croft got to his feet. Perhaps she didn't understand that the moment Gladstone had ordered Dallas and Lance to get rid of Mercy, he had signed his own death warrant. Even if he hadn't been certain now that Gladstone was Graves, Croft would have had to act. He knew he was no longer going after Gladstone just because of the unfinished business of. three years before. There was now a much more immediate, more pressing reason for getting Gladstone.

That reason was Mercy Pennington, who had twice claimed she loved Croft Falconer.

"Croft?" Mercy watched him anxiously.

"I've got an hour before I have to leave, Mercy. I want to meditate. I need to clear my mind."

"Yes, but what about me?"

"You'll be safe here. No one knows where you are."

She jumped up, anger replacing the anxiety in her face. "I'm not talking about my safety. I want to come with you."

That shocked him. "Absolutely not. You've been exposed to far too much danger already because of me. I'm not about to take you with me."

"But Croft, I've been in it this far. I don't want to let you go alone the rest of the way."

He realized she was serious and was amazed she would even consider going along. "Forget it, Mercy. This is what I do best. And I always operate alone."

"You might need help."

"No."

"Damn you, you're always so blasted sure of yourself. So self-contained. You think you can do everything alone, don't you? You don't need anyone—or at least you won't admit you need anyone. One of these days that's going to change, Croft."

It was already changing but he didn't know how to say it.

Later
, Croft promised himself. Later he would tell her that she was realigning his whole world along a different axis, finding a connection between the dimension in which he existed and the one in which she lived. There wasn't time to tell her now, and besides, he couldn't fully explain it to himself yet.

"We'll talk when I return, Mercy."

"I want to come with you," she said once more.

He shook his head. "No." He knew from the helpless way she looked at him that she was accepting the inevitable.

"You're so stubborn. So arrogant," she whispered.

"This is the way it has to be, Mercy."

"Oh, shut up and go meditate. I'm going out to get another cup of coffee."

She whirled around and slammed out of the room before he could think of a response.

Croft stared after her for a long moment and then opened the window. He sank down onto the carpet and let the sunlight warm him. The distant sounds of traffic and occasional voices floated in through the open window, but Croft tuned them out. He could tune out almost anything when he was meditating.

But that afternoon he found it difficult to clear his mind of the memory of green eyes that reflected emotions as clearly
as a watercolor reflected light. Wonderful, transparent eyes that a man could read like a book.

Mercy had said she loved him and he had looked into her eyes when she had said it. Croft had told himself that she had been under too much stress to know her own thoughts clearly, but he had lied to himself. He knew that as he sat quietly freeing his mind of all extraneous thoughts. Slowly he focused on the point of light within himself and his mind cleared.

He could no longer doubt Mercy. She knew what she was saying. He had seen the knowledge in her eyes.

She loved him.

Croft took that knowledge into himself, learning it completely, turning it over in his mind, examining it the way he would examine a flower or a sunset or the sea at dawn. He wanted to know what it meant to be loved by Mercy. He wanted to know it in every fiber of his being.

He let the knowledge that Mercy loved him flow through him until it filled him, satisfied him and gave him peace of mind.

It was a different kind of peace than the sort he achieved through meditation and the strengthening movements of his physical training, but it was related to that deep calm in some ways. It was more emotionally satisfying, more filling. In some sense it was a more complete kind of peace. It encompassed the other and surpassed it.

Croft realized that he had never known a complete love before in his life. Perhaps that was why he hadn't recognized it or had tried to deny it when he felt it growing between himself and Mercy. He had thought he understood love on an intellectual basis, thought he knew its demands and requirements, but he hadn't really comprehended its power.

But he accepted the truth now. He had no choice.

He was in love with Mercy. As much in love with her as she was with him. It was a combination of passion, friendship, respect, even the exciting, stimulating friction of disagreements and differing interpretations of important concepts.

A complete Circle.

Croft studied the new Circle as it came together in his mind, watched as it coalesced around the point of light that was his focus. It was perfect. Even the parts of it that couldn't be completely understood were part of
that perfection. There was no such thing as total knowledge. Some mysteries always remained and he sensed that between a man and a woman arose unknown regions were as important as the portions that could be comprehended. He accepted them; accepted the whole. Mercy belonged to him and he belonged to her.

Satisfied at last, Croft went on to another aspect of his meditation. It was time to summon the clearheaded logic and stamina he would need during me next few hours.

Time passed. But when Mercy cautiously opened the door of the room a half hour later, Croft was ready. He turned his head to see her standing hesitantly in the doorway, a white paper sack in her hand.

"I brought you something to eat. And a cup of tea. It's made with a tea bag but I made them boil the water first. Are you finished with your meditating?" She pulled two cups out of her sack and handed one to him while she uncapped the other for herself.

"I'm finished." He got to his feet, feeling serene and yet fully alert. All his senses were awake and aware but they were all under his control. It was the way he always felt before he explored the boundaries of violence and learned anew the thrill of existence.

It was the way he always felt when he made love to Mercy, except that there were times with her when she took him even farther. With her he could actually lose control and still know that he was safe.

Croft uncapped the cup of tea and took a sip. "I love you, Mercy," he said calmly.

Mercy nearly choked on her coffee. "What?" she sputtered, gasping for breath. Her eyes watered with the effort.

Croft slapped her lightly between her shoulders, ignoring her frantic question. "I have to go now. I'll eat the sandwich on the way. I'll be back around dawn tomorrow. Good-bye, Mercy."

He brushed her mouth lightly with his own and then he walked out the door without looking back.

He loved her.

As usual, Mercy was torn between wanting to shake Croft and a passionate longing to throw her arms around him. He had managed to frustrate both possibilities by walking out on her directly after making his grand announcement.

It was typical of Croft to do things this way, Mercy fumed as she stalked up and down the small motel room. No passionate proclamation of undying love over a candlelit dinner, no surprise engagement ring, no intense discussion of his emotions and feelings. Just a factual statement before he walked out the door to risk his neck.