Target (4 page)

“I
don't know,” Baily said. She had given him the same answer a hundred times. “I don't know anything.”

The wind blew hard across the exposed roof. A burning wind. How could she be so cold? Her muscles locked.

Hysteria wouldn't help.

He walked around her. “Sure you know. I'm getting tired, honey. Be a good girl and gimme a break.”

Baily didn't answer. Each breath reached the top of her lungs and puffed out in little gasps.

It wouldn't matter what she told him, the roof of the building would be the last place she felt beneath her feet. A gust filled with raindrops wetted her face and she licked dry lips. She hadn't cried. Her eyes were dry; they stung.

Baily didn't want him to see her cry.

“You and him are real close. He had to tell you. You gonna let him keep it all for himself?”

“I don't know what you're talking about.” But she did know that a man who didn't bother to cover his face when he broke the law also didn't intend to leave any witnesses around when he had finished. And he knew the Wilkes and Board Pointe Judah lab was isolated enough for him to be sure their movements through the shadows on the roof wouldn't catch anyone's attention.

Unless someone got lost and drove through the entrance and into the grounds by mistake. Or the security company made their two-hourly check of the perimeter. They weren't due for another hour and were never regular anyway.

Miracles happened.

A grimy light in a metal cage shone from the side of the elevator shaft. Baily looked past the man and over the trees toward the driveway from the road.

“What?” He leveled the gun at her head and looked quickly over his shoulder. Just as fast he turned back to her. The hand that held the weapon never wavered. “You're a nice-looking woman. It would be a pity to spoil that face. Don't bother watching for the marines—or the so-called security guys. No one's coming here tonight. Not anytime soon.”

Her intestines contracted and she clutched at her lower belly.

He didn't comment.

From the moment she turned around in the elevator and saw him, she had known the man had murder in mind. When he pushed her from the fourth floor, up the stairs to the roof, Baily had felt as if she'd already left the world behind.

He kept his hands off her. The muzzle of the gun, twitched this way or that, told her where to go and when to stop. She'd been told not to speak unless spoken to.

She couldn't see his eyes through glasses with dark gray lenses.

The muzzle twitched.

Baily took a step forward.

Another twitch.

Another step.

“I haven't done anything to you,” she yelled, and heard her voice hitting inside her skull.

He flicked the gun again. Baily ran at him, fingers spread, aimed for his eyes. She collided with him and he didn't give, any more than a concrete buttress would give. The knee she aimed at his crotch never reached its target.

“Just let me go!”

One of his feet came down on the very end of the toes on her right foot—just enough to make her fall forward. And with one firm shove he pushed her back.

She screamed, heard bones in her ankle snap. His foot still held her toe down, held it while she slammed into the tar on the roof with its scatter of small, sharp rocks. Gravity and her whole weight drove her head against the ground.

“Stupid bitch.”

The words came from a distance. Fire consumed her leg, shot through her thigh, her groin. She writhed, and vomited. Consciousness slithered.

“Get up,” he shouted. “Don't you choke on me.
Get up.
”

Baily couldn't see anything but bright lights, blinding lights.

His hands were on her now, dragging at her. “Stand up,” he said.

She fought him but her fists bounced off his body. And she cried.

As soon as he released her she crumpled. Before she could go all the way down, he supported her. Held her and hauled her, the right leg useless and dragging behind, toward the parapet around the roof.

“The cleaners are coming,” she said through splitting torment, trying to stand on her left leg. “They always come now. It's a rule here. You came at the right time.”

His laughter shuddered into Baily's brain. Sweat filled her eyes, soaked her clothes. The pain tore at her, ripped her apart.

“You've made this harder for me but I'll give you one more chance. What did Nick bring with him when he ran from California all those years ago? And where is it now?”

Nothing she said would matter. “Kill me. I don't know anything. Kill me now, I don't care anymore. The cleaners will walk in before you get out.”

“Keep your mouth shut.”

She screamed again. “I don't know anything.”

“Too bad. You're gonna help me anyway.”

Baily waited for the click of the hammer pulling back.

“Walk,” he said, a hand under her arm, and she hopped, her knee all but doubling each time. “There you go.”

The front of her leg banged into the parapet.

Below, a white vapor rose so very far away. Swirling, clinging to things she couldn't see. She swayed forward, scraped her knee, felt the pull of the soft, white mist spread out below. Soft, white, like foamy water.

“All you have to do is tell me where it's hidden.”

“At Place Lafource,” she said. Whatever it was, if it belonged to the Boards, why wouldn't it be there, and why wouldn't that seem logical? And why was he asking her?

“Where at Place Lafource?”

Consciousness slipped. “The house.”

He shook her. “
Where
in the house?”

She shook her head slowly and couldn't keep her eyes open.

“It'll do,” he whispered and let her go. “Very nice, Sarah.”

He was going to let her live. She panted and told him, “Baily, not Sarah.”

His face came very close. “What are you saying?”

“I'm Baily Morris. You don't want me anyway. You want Sarah Board, don't you?”

“You're lying.”

“No. My badge is in my pocket. I don't like wearing it. Baily Morris.” She moved a hand toward her pocket.

“Shit,” he said. “I believe you. And you just gave away any chance you had. I've got to do this now.”

A gentle push at the back of her left knee and the exhausted leg buckled. She tipped forward, her scream clotted in her throat.

Baily flew, so slowly, her arms spread wide; she twisted in the air. Currents tossed her, buffeted her head. Faster, faster, she flew, a dive to the soft white foam.

H
eadlights swung across the windows in Sarah's living room. Aurelie peered outside, saw a familiar Audi and stepped back. “It's Nick's car,” she called. “Delia's with him.”

Sarah hurried from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel.

The engine noise died away.

“Let's try to look as if we're not scared out of our minds,” Aurelie said.

Sarah disappeared for a moment and returned without the towel. “You're right. We can help the most by being calm.”

“Right,” Aurelie said, and slid to the floor beside Hoover, who was dreaming. He blew loudly through his quivering mustache and gave little whines.

Delia used her key and came in just ahead of Nick. “It's started raining,” she said.

“Nick!” Sarah said, and looked as if she might run to him. But she held her ground, “And you, too, Delia. You both look so tired.”

“Save the drama,” Delia said and Aurelie smiled at her favorite woman's choice of words. Delia didn't believe in tiptoeing around people's feelings, particularly if she decided they were unworthy; besides, she owned the family drama crown herself. “Nick and I are just dandy.”

“Come in and get comfy,” Aurelie said, smiling at Nick who did look pretty exhausted.

He didn't return her smile. The front of his dark curly hair stuck up, a sign he was agitated.

Delia, auburn-haired, above-average height and with just enough ballast to lend authority to her presence and her theatrical stride, went to the center of the room and shook back her hair. “Sit down, Sarah. Nick already filled me in on some of what you all learned today.”

Sarah sat at once and kept her eyes downcast. Her manner puzzled Aurelie. Sarah seemed abruptly deflated yet she didn't usually let Delia's take-charge manner bother her.

Delia put a hand on Sarah's head and stroked her mussed hair. “Let's settle in. There's a lot to cover. But regardless, there's nothing to get overly excited about. I'll take care of everything.”

She left for the kitchen and returned with a bottle of white wine, four glasses and an opener. The bottle and the opener she handed over to Nick. Then she stood beside him until he had poured.

“Nick picked me up at the airport and we had a meal,” Delia said, passing out glasses. She stiffened her back and tugged on the short jacket of her figure-hugging, white silk suit. Delia was a walking advertisement for her company's products. Her soft skin and perfect makeup looked the same regardless of the time of day. Her age was something they had guessed at many times and she couldn't be younger than fifty-five or so, but forty was a number unlikely to be questioned.

Sarah said to Delia, “So you know about—”

“My friend Mary?” Delia cut in and her throat moved sharply. “Yes, I know. She could have been dead by the time you got to Savannah. Poor Mary. Poor Nick.”

Nick had sat down. His slate-blue eyes became unfocused.

Goose bumps shot up Aurelie's arms. She hopped up from the floor and went to kneel beside Nick's chair. She hugged him and rested a cheek on his arm. When she knew what she should say, she'd say it. He hadn't had nearly enough time to absorb the shock. None of them had.

He freed an arm and touched her back, then left his big, hard hand there. Aurelie felt his fingers curl into a fist. “I'm really sad about Mary,” she said. “When we were at The Refuge, we prayed every night that we'd be able to stay with her. Nick, I'm so sorry.”

Delia sat with her forearms crossed over her knees and her head bowed.

Sarah cried quietly.

“Did you ever stop hoping she'd find you?” Aurelie asked Nick. She got up and pulled a chair close to his.

“No,” he said.

She studied his face, the whiteness of the bone in his straight nose, the flare of his nostrils—and the bleak distance in his eyes. “I stopped watching for her,” she said. “But I never stopped hoping.”

“We didn't know what a real mother was like until we shared yours for a while,” Sarah said. “But then we got Delia. That was because Mary knew what we needed even if she couldn't be with us.”

“Ooh.” Aurelie scrubbed at her face. “I'm really going to bawl in a minute. What I don't understand is why all those people went into the mine. There were too many of them for Colin to have forced them.”

“I don't understand, either,” Nick said. He put his hands behind his head and stretched, his chest expanding inside his black T-shirt. “We probably never will.”

“Couldn't there have been an accident?” Sarah said. “They went inside and there was some sort of slide that moved the rocks?”

Delia, her eyes bright and moist, said, “The police don't think it was an accident, but I do. It probably happened exactly the way Sarah thinks. An unexpected rock slide.”

This woman's gift for sailing through difficult times by glossing them over had often been a blessing. Aurelie worried that on this occasion, Delia was afraid of the truth and what it could mean to all of them. “It wasn't an accident,” Aurelie said. “There was a rope ladder and it was cut at the top of the shaft and thrown down so they couldn't get out. Someone had to have cut it.”

“Remember my mother's hair?” Nick asked, rushing out the words.

Nodding, Aurelie closed her eyes. “It was beautiful. Long and thick—and black like yours, Nick.”

“And the same blue eyes,” Sarah added. “Almost. Yours are darker.”

“Can we stop this?” Delia said quickly. Gone was the breeziness. She sounded badly shaken.

“Let's cut to the basic facts,” Nick said. He told Delia his theory about Colin and what it might mean to all of them if he still lived, and decided they could be a threat to him.

Sarah got up. She paced back and forth and Hoover woke up to give one of his barks. “Can't you stop him from doing that?” Sarah said, slapping her hands to her cheeks. “It shocks me every time and I hate it when he barks in the night.”

“Sarah—”

“He doesn't bark at night. Not very often,” Aurelie said, stopping Delia from jumping into the fray.

“He barks, and he slobbers on my rugs.”

“You're just upset,” Nick said. “We understand. Come on over here, Hoover.”

“He can come up to the house with me,” Delia said. “Shall I get some rooms ready for you, Rellie?”

Aurelie shook her head. “No. Don't worry, I've been thinking about going into one of the condos at the Oakdale Mansion Center. The cheaper ones, not in Nick's swanky compound.”

Sarah closed her eyes. “I sound selfish. I'm sorry. I don't do very well with stress. I'm not proud of that.”

“There's a town house available in the new complex at Oakdale,” Nick said. “Several, I think. You know them, Rellie? The Quarters, they're called. Come back with me this evening and look at them tomorrow.”

“I can't believe we're having this discussion
now,
” Delia said. “
Inappropriate
is the first word that comes to mind. Thanks, Nick. I know you three hate the idea of ever coming back into the house to live. Not that it would have been for long.”

“Will that work for you?” Nick asked Aurelie. “You know I've got nothing but room.”

“Yes, thanks.” Great, Aurelie thought, so now Sarah was eyeing her as if she'd grown fangs.

“You're fine here,” Sarah said. “Let it go.”

“She'll be closer to Poke Around staying over there,” Nick said with the stubborn toughness they recognized the instant his square jaw rose and his normally humorous mouth settled in a straight line.

“Why does Aurelie have to be closer to Poke Around?” Delia asked.

Aurelie had been dreading this. “I've started working there. I got the job today.” She had even hoped Nick might have broken the news to Delia. Too bad that hadn't happened.

Delia looked from one face to another. “You've got a job in New Orleans,” she told Aurelie.

“I quit.”

“You quit? You didn't tell me that when you came home.”

“I should have,” Aurelie said. “Look, let's not get into this too much now. I've had it with the law. I may change my mind, but I need a break. And I need to be here with all of you.”

Delia's lips parted, then Aurelie saw her take a moment more before responding. “It'll be nice to have you here,” she said. “It's good to go home when you're tired.”

Aurelie smiled at her but knew she would hear more about using her law degree, a lot more.

Nick fidgeted. Conversations like this one made him uncomfortable and it showed. “Get a night's uninterrupted sleep, Sarah,” he said. “I want us to be aware of what's going on around us until it's safe to relax.”

“It's probably already safe,” Delia said, sounding like the take-care-of-everything mother she did her best to be for them.

“True,” Aurelie said. “Let's not get ahead of ourselves. There's a good chance Colin won't find us. If he did survive—and he's responsible for what happened—wouldn't he get out of the country? He could be dead by now, you know. He was a lot older than Mary.”

“Not so much,” Nick said. “He'd be in his fifties.”

“He's not going to come looking for us and drawing attention to himself,” Aurelie said. “Think about it. Would you take the risk of connecting yourself to those murders?”

“Always the logical one,” Nick said.

Sarah got up and went to Nick. “What if the press finds out something? They do all that investigative reporting and they turn up things you'd never expect them to. Someone in Grove could remember you and go to the police to take another look at the photos, then say you couldn't have been there that night. If the police don't find us, the press might.”

“I won't have that,” Delia said, standing abruptly. Her three-inch heels showed off a great pair of legs. She looked around, then made an awkward little gesture with one hand, “I mean, that's silly. It's not going to happen. And there're three of you, they wouldn't know to look for three of you, would they?”

“Aurelie and Sarah never went into the town—not until the night we left. I don't think anyone there would remember them.”

Delia grinned. “There, I told you. This will all work out just fine. Hasn't everything else we've had to deal with worked out?”

They chorused that it had. Aurelie let in a fleeting thought that wealthy Delia tended to believe that she could buy whatever she couldn't get by other means. Her generosity saved her from seeming spoiled or too unworldly. No one questioned her intelligence or her business savvy.

“This is different though, Delia,” Sarah said. She stood behind Nick and held his shoulders. “It could be really dangerous. Nick doesn't want to, but do you think we should call Chief Meche? He might know what we should do.”

“Like hell,” Delia said explosively. “All Billy Meche wants is to be retired. We don't need to make this public. We don't
want
to make this public. Keeping things to ourselves works for us.”

Sarah kneaded the muscles in the sides of Nick's neck. “Matt Boudreaux, then. He'd want to help.”

“Matt's a good friend,” Nick said. “But like I said this afternoon, if we do go to the police here, they'll contact the people in California. I think that's a bad idea, and this isn't Pointe Judah police business.”

“No, it isn't,” Delia said.

“It will be if someone comes here and kills us all,” Sarah said.