June stumbled to a halt when Alex stopped short in front of her. Peering past him, she remembered her own stunned reaction to Tabitha’s fascinating home.
The miniscule hall led into a completely open floor plan where living room, dining area, and kitchen all flowed together. Fading amber sunlight beamed through wide windows, making them appear paned in golden glass. But what really rocketed to attention were the walls those windows were set in.
Each was a different deep hue—magenta, turquoise, daffodil yellow and a violet so dark as to be almost black. On that dynamic background, in every space available, hung a multitude of miscellaneous artwork, from masks and weavings to framed oils and movie posters, adding their own varied rainbows. At first glance it appeared that area rugs were scattered over the battered yet neutral grey oak floor, but these “rugs,” were actually kaleidoscopic murals painted on the wood. Furniture, in an odd collection of styles, from ornately carved antiques to futuristic chrome and glass, filled the space.
The buoyant energy of the room did little to dispel the unease fluttering along June’s nerves. She nudged Alex out of his speechless contemplation, and they followed Tabitha to the back of the house. “Who else did you say is coming?” she asked.
“Oh, all sorts of people are on their way, even though it was rather late notice. Can I just say again how delighted I am that you both could make it?”
Finally June was able to pin down at least one of the things tickling her subconscious. There were no party preparations at all—no bowls of chips, vegetable platters, trays of drinks—and nothing to indicate they had interrupted those preparations.
She frowned. “Tabitha...” she started, only to have the question she was about to ask dry to dust in her mouth. A door, barely visible as it was painted the same colour as its wall, opened, and Richard Fleetham and Walter Schwarz-Silber emerged.
Stunned by their sudden appearance, June blurted out, “What are you doing here? The cops, the CO’s, everyone’s looking for you.”
Alex, standing to her right admiring the view out the window, spun on his heel. He advanced swiftly to her side.
She didn’t take her eyes off the other men. Fleetham’s public relations veneer of friendly superiority was evident, but Schwarz-Silber’s cold, flat demeanour had been replaced by an aura of sheer disbelief, underscored with rage.
“And it is you, you who have made this happen.” His clipped accent was more noticeable than ever, magnified by fury. “You were not supposed to get off the mountain. I told Richard I should shoot you, but he was soft, wanted to make it seem an accident.”
“Now, now,” soothed Fleetham. “We’ve discussed that, Walter, and I’ve come to realize your way may have been the better option. But all is not lost. We still have time to correct the mistake.”
“Yah, we will correct this mistake.” Schwarz-Silber reached into the room in which the men had been waiting and pulled out a rifle. It was nastily familiar to June. “Since you have been involved, everything has gone wrong.” Frustration spewed from him like a cloud, hatred in his eyes. Alex thrust forward, shielding June with his body. Schwarz-Silber raised the rifle and motioned with the barrel. “Stay back. Do not come nearer.”
Alex held his ground. His cool gaze switched to Tabitha. “You’re in on this, too, aren’t you?”
She shrugged and crossed the floor to stand next to Fleetham. They made an arresting couple, both of a height, her flaming red hair a brilliant foil for the curling, springy blackness of his. She stroked his chest languidly, and his arm encircled her waist. “What’s a woman to do? She’s got to take care of her own best interests, doesn’t she?”
The little girl scattiness had vanished from her voice, and from the way Fleetham beamed at her, it was obvious she was not a simple sidekick, but a full partner in the enterprise.
June’s world tilted. She struggled to keep her equilibrium. Her fingers squeezed the neck of the wine bottle she still held. “You’re a part of this, too? The poaching? Murder?”
Tabitha made a small moue of distaste and scowled viciously at Schwarz-Silber. “That was definitely a mistake. Richard said
he
was working,” she gestured with her chin to Alex, “so we thought he would be sent out. Walter was supposed to use his fists to encourage him to lay off the investigation. But instead, he used neither his brain nor his fists.” Her tone was scathing. “And there we were, stuck in the middle of a murder investigation.”
“You selfish, cold-hearted bitch.” Contempt dripped from each quiet word. “And you...” his scorn switched to Fleetham. “Hiding behind an organization whose sole purpose is to stop people like you. I despise you.”
Tabitha took two strides forward. She slapped Alex across the cheek, the crack echoing through the stunned silence. “You will not speak to him that way,” she hissed.
The blow twisted Alex toward June. His profile was frozen, hard and unforgiving. Instinctively she reached for him, but he straightened immediately and raised one hand slowly to his jaw.
“I’ll speak to him any damn way I want.” He gritted the words out through tight lips. Taut muscles betrayed his longing to take action. Past his rigid shoulder the barrel of the rifle held its deadly aim. June gripped his upper arm, silently willing him to be careful.
“Tchahh!” Schwarz-Silber made a harsh, guttural sound of derision. “You say I do not use my brains. This is not smart, this arguing. It is time to finish this. Already too many chances this one has been given.”
June’s first stunned astonishment had faded. “Chances? What chances?” Her brain whirled, dreaming up and discarding various plans. She needed more time.
“Nothing,” Fleetham said sullenly, as Tabitha bit out, “Shut up, Walter.”
The puzzle pieces clicked. Her eyes dropped to the heavy, black army boots Schwarz-Silber wore. “You were the motorcycle rider?”
He bared his teeth. “Many times since that night I have wished to have hit you harder.”
She worked up a sneer. “No wonder you called me a cat with nine lives. You don’t seem to have much luck killing me, do you?” Alex tried to tug his arm out of her grasp, but she held on. “Even when you had me clear in your sights, when you shot at me on my way home from my parents.”
“Shot at you?” Tabitha scoffed. “He never shot at you. Or you would be dead.” Then she noticed the disgruntled expression on the German’s face. “What is she talking about? What the hell did you do?”
Schwarz-Silber turned to Tabitha, eyes glittering, mouth opening to deliver a retort. The muzzle of the gun drooped fractionally. Alex sprang forward. Batting the weapon away with one hand, he drove his fist into the bigger man’s belly. Air whooshed out of Schwarz-Silber’s lungs. Alex snagged the barrel. Schwarz-Silber reversed his grip and brought the stock up viciously, slashing against Alex’s temple. He crumpled to the floor.
With a primitive yell, June jumped forward. She smashed the heavy glass wine bottle on Schwarz-Silber’s head. He crashed to the wooden boards, the gun spinning free. She dove for it. Her fingers grazed the cool, burnished metal. A bare foot stomped on her hand, grinding the bones together with crushing force, and she cried out.
Fleetham snatched up the rifle. Her mission thwarted, June dragged her hand out from under Tabitha’s heel and crawled to Alex. He crouched on one knee, a hand pressed to his face, blood seeping through his fingers.
“Let me see.” June sucked in her breath at the nasty scrape. She looked up at Tabitha. “I need a wet cloth. I need something to hold against it, to clean it.”
“Oh, for crying out loud.” Tabitha reached down and jerked June up. “Walter’s right. Let’s get this over with. Richard, make sure that one doesn’t move. You, put your hands together.” She unwound her belt, and June realized it didn’t only look like rope, it actually was. Tabitha tied her wrists tightly together, then, using another strand from around her waist, did the same to Alex, still kneeling on the floor. He said nothing, but glowered with unnerving intensity at Fleetham.
Tabitha booted Schwarz-Silber none too gently in the ribs as he lay groaning on the floor. “Get up. You’ll drive your SUV. We’ll go with these two, like we planned.”
Schwarz-Silber staggered to his feet, holding his head, eyes glassy. They headed to the door, June and Alex in front, the others shepherding them from behind.
Tabitha’s house was secluded enough that Fleetham was able to keep the rifle trained at June and Alex as they walked to the Jeep.
“Alex in the passenger seat, June in the back with Richard.” Tabitha directed. “I’ll drive.” She gave Alex a push when he didn’t move fast enough. “Richard will have the rifle on June the entire time. You will behave.”
June climbed clumsily into the narrow back seat behind the driver. She struggled into position. Fleetham pulled the shoulder strap across her body, slipping the clasp between her linked arms. With the belt locked, her hands were trapped, one over and one under the webbed material.
Schwarz-Silber dragged open the doors of the small barn and disappeared inside. He drove out in a silver SUV. Leading the small convoy down the driveway and out onto the main highway, he turned north. Tabitha appeared calm, but she rode hard on his bumper, and was constantly having to back off.
June’s hand throbbed. Her wrists burned from the harsh nylon rope wrapped tightly around them. The taste of fear was strong in her mouth. She cherished every sensation. They meant she was alive.
She sat upright, alert to any chance she might have to turn the tables. In front of her, Alex’s body slanted away from Tabitha. Muscles flexed subtly in his neck and shoulders, and June realized he was trying to work his hands free. She hadn’t seen how Tabitha had fastened his seat belt. Maybe she hadn’t been as devious as Fleetham.
Here, at least, was something she could do. She could keep them distracted.
She turned to Fleetham. The cramped interior forced him to hold the long gun pointing upward, the muzzle under her chin. But with both her and Alex restrained, he’d relaxed enough to let his finger fall off the trigger. He noticed her watching him and gave a faintly apologetic shrug.
“All this, it’s for the money?” she asked, letting her disgust tinge the words.
Her repugnance didn’t seem to annoy Fleetham. He reminded her of a small boy caught in a minor misdemeanour. “I’m afraid so, my dear. It probably seems sordid to you, but once you’ve tasted big money, it’s so hard to go back to a professor’s salary.”
“Why did you hire me to work at RiverForce?”
She was amazed to see a sheepish grin cross his face. “I thought it might keep you occupied, so you’d stay away from the investigation.” He regarded her solemnly. “I am truly sorry you are mixed up in this. I did warn you away.”
They accelerated up the large hill leading out of the river valley and continued north. “This whole enterprise has been a disaster, ever since the two of you met up on Longworth Mountain,” Tabitha said. She eased off the gas after creeping too close to Schwarz-Silber yet again. “Walter told me how he fired warning shots that day, and what do the two of you do? Try to find the shooter. What reasonable human being goes toward the sound of gunfire? You forced him to hide. He was not happy.”
The right hand indicator blinked on the vehicle in front, and Tabitha followed suit.
“Who put the note on my windshield?”
Tabitha answered, a small, cruel smile on her lips. “That was me. I was so pissed that Walter had killed the wrong man, I’m afraid I needed to vent.”
Schwarz-Silber turned onto a narrow gravel road. It travelled straight through a cleared area for a hundred metres or so, before disappearing into a forest of thick, straight pine. Dust kicked up behind, hanging in the still evening air.
“You shouldn’t let that bother you, darling,” Fleetham said. “It did no damage in the end.” He leaned forward to pat his lover’s arm. Alex shifted in his seat, glancing over his shoulder. His gaze sharpened. The rifle had dropped onto Fleetham’s thigh, the long barrel now laying across June’s knee. He lifted his eyes to hers. She dipped her chin in a tiny nod.
Alex braced his back against the door. The Jeep swung onto the side road, and at the apex of its turn, he jackknifed his body, kicking out brutally. One foot struck Tabitha in the shoulder. The other crushed her fingers against the steering wheel. Without releasing the pressure on the hand on the wheel, Alex kicked upward with his left leg. June flinched at the snap of breaking bone. Tabitha screamed.
Alex’s sudden moves shocked Fleetham into immobility. June grappled for the rifle, dragging it out of his slack hold in a two handed grip made necessary by her bonds. Fleetham made a belated grab for the gun. Hampered by her seat belt, June turned her shoulders and attempted to block him. Her palms were slick with sweat. Inch by inch, the muzzle slipped through her fingers.
The Jeep swerved viciously. The motion threw Fleetham into June. They both lost their holds on the rifle and it fell to the floor. Fleetham bent forward to retrieve it. She seized handfuls of his abundant curls and yanked. Fleetham shouted and tried to pry her fingers out of his hair. She clutched tighter.
Tabitha shrieked repeatedly, cradling her broken arm. It was impossible for Alex to reach the uncontrolled steering wheel. The Jeep flew forward, diving into the deep ditch. Tabitha’s head bashed against the steering column. Fleetham was propelled between the front bucket seats.
In the sudden stillness June panted, dazedly staring at the fistfuls of dark hair in her hands.
Chapter Eighteen
Fleetham sprawled on his side, draped awkwardly against Alex. Shoving him out of the way, Alex struggled to undo his seat belt, twisting his wrists painfully, cramping his fingers. He finally managed it and shot out of the Jeep.