Fatal Identity (36 page)

The rail moved slightly as she brushed it with her hand, and Marcie frowned as she looked at it closely. She'd seen this type of construction before. Her parents had owned a lake cottage with a balcony just like this one. Six holes were drilled in the wood, and six long metal pins held the railing in place. But the pins were missing on this railing. There was nothing to keep it from falling!

Marcie shuddered. If she'd leaned against the railing to look over, as most people did, she would have fallen nine floors to the ground!

Suddenly, Marcie understood. Brad had insisted they have wine with dinner. He'd even ordered a second bottle. And when they'd come back to the condo, he'd opened champagne. He would have claimed she was drunk, just like he'd done with Mercedes, and her death would have been listed as a terrible accident.

But when had Brad removed the pins? Marcie thought back to the morning, when she'd awakened very early and found Brad standing on the balcony. He'd told her he'd been admiring the view, but now she knew he'd been lying. That was when he'd removed the pins. And this was to be her fate. He planned to push her over the balcony, and then play the part of the grief-stricken husband again.

“Marcie? Let me in!”

Marcie shuddered. The dangerous undercurrent in Brad's voice had grown. Now he sounded very ominous. She tiptoed back in and rushed into the bathroom, calling out to him. “Just a second, darling. I'm going to take a quick shower.”

There was another lock on the bathroom door. Marcie clicked it shut, and leaned against the door, trembling with fear. The walls were thin, and she could hear him pacing the floor, like a caged animal, outside the bedroom door. How long would he wait, before he broke down the doors to kill her?!

CHAPTER 30

“Okay, okay. Calm down.” Captain Ted Oukalani rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. “I believe you. You think your friend's in danger, but you can't give me any proof. And your buddy thinks she's in danger, too. He's called three times from his car phone. I'm sorry, Mr. Williams, but we can't just send out a . . .”

“Captain?” A policewoman knocked on the open door. “Somebody just called in an emergency from that new time-share condo complex on Ocean Boulevard.”

George jumped to his feet. “Which unit?”

“Nine-seventeen. But they hung up before our operator could ask any questions.”

“That's Marcie! I told you she was in nine-seventeen. Are you going to roll now, or would you rather wait until you've got a murder on your hands?”

Captain Oukalani turned to the policewoman and began barking out orders. Then he turned to George with an apologetic expression on his face. “Sorry I didn't believe you before, Detective Williams. Your description of Mr. James sounded crazy.”

“That's because he
is
crazy. But he's smart, too. He's already killed two women we know of.”

Captain Oukalani got up from his desk. “Come on, Detective Williams. You can ride with me.”

As they hurried out to the captain's cruiser, George realized that the captain had spent the previous half hour calling him mister, but now he was addressing him as Detective Williams. Normally, this show of respect would have delighted George, but he was too worried about Marcie to even smile.

 

 

Marcie tried to scream as the bathroom door clicked open, but she was too terrified to utter a sound. Her startled mind registered the small piece of metal he held in his hand. An Allen wrench, the proper tool for opening a door when someone had locked himself in the bathroom by mistake. And then he was bending over her, lifting her to her feet from her huddled position near the shower.

“You lied, darling. You never intended to take a shower. You were hiding from me.”

The expression on his face was chilling. He wasn't angry, or upset, or even annoyed. Instead, he was smiling at her dispassionately. It was the kind of smile one would give to someone else's recalcitrant child. She opened her mouth about to say something, anything, to try to stall him. The police would be here any moment. “No, Brad. I . . . I wasn't . . .”

But opening her mouth was a terrible mistake. Before she could say another word, he had shoved a washcloth into her mouth, gagging her so she couldn't talk, or scream, or beg him to let her go. And then he was carrying her to the bed, and placing her gently on the mattress.

“Now, where is that lovely red negligee I gave you?” He smiled his chilling smile again, as he gazed into her terrified eyes. “I know you'd like me to take off that gag, so you could tell me, but it's really not necessary. I'll find it.”

In some small corner of her terrified mind, Marcie blessed her mother's training. She'd never been allowed to leave clothing draped on chairs or scattered in piles on the floor. Her mother had believed that there was a place for everything, and everything should be in its place. It was a lesson Marcie had remembered to this day. When she'd taken off the red negligee, she'd folded it carefully and put it back in its box. And that box was now sitting on the top shelf in the closet.

“Of course.” Brad smiled at her again. “Mercedes was the same way, you know. She always put everything away. But if I leave you to look for it, you'll run away again, won't you, darling?”

Marcie tried to shake her head. Here was her chance! But Brad gave an amused chuckle.

“Of course, you will. You have a very strong survival instinct. So you see, I have absolutely no choice in the matter.”

Marcie watched in terror as he picked up the heavy glass vase from the night table. Her mind screamed out for Sam to hurry, to save her from the monster who was her husband. She'd been so wrong, so terribly wrong. And now he was going to kill her, just like he'd killed Mercedes!

But she could still move. He hadn't tied her hands and feet. Marcie kicked, and scratched, and twisted. But Brad was too strong, and he subdued her quickly. He gave an amused chuckle as he held her with one arm, and raised the vase with the other.

And then his arm swung in a wide arc, and came down toward her with horrendous force. She had time for only one short prayer for Sam to hurry, before everything went black.

 

 

The speedometer on Sam's rental car hovered at eighty as he barreled down the road, passing everything in sight. He saw flashing red lights behind him, but instead of slowing, he tromped harder on the accelerator. If the police stopped him for speeding, he'd convince them to escort him to the time-share condo. A speeding ticket didn't matter when Marcie's life was at stake.

But the police cruiser didn't stop. It just passed him and kept on going. There was a second cruiser behind it. And then a third and a fourth. George must have convinced them down at headquarters. Sam held the accelerator to the floor, and fell into line behind them.

A road sign flickered by at an incredible speed. One mile to go to the turnoff. Sam moved behind the fourth cruiser. There was no need for signaling. There was absolutely no traffic behind them. They'd passed every car on the road.

And then they were turning. And speeding down a city street. Sirens blared deafeningly in the quiet night. Other cars swerved quickly to the curb, to give them access. And the few lone pedestrians who were out this time of night stared as they screeched to a halt in front of the entrance to the condo.

“What the hell do you think you're doing?” Two men jumped out of the lead cruiser and confronted Sam angrily.

But Sam was prepared. Before he'd left Los Angeles, Keith Lucas had given him his badge, to use in an emergency like this. “Keith Lucas, L.A.P.D. Let's go! I know Brad James, and they sent me to help you talk him down.”

The officers didn't bother to examine Sam's badge. They were in too much of a hurry. They just motioned him to follow as they rushed for the entrance.

 

 

He used every ounce of his will, but he could not control the husband. The husband's power had grown strong with the act of violence, and he used their hands to dress her in the red negligee. Then he stepped back and waited.

He knew the husband expected him to explode with rage at the sight of the evil red. He had done it before. But with the small awareness he had left, he fought the husband's plan.

Mind over matter. He stared at the evil red and altered it in his mind. It was blue. As blue as a summer sky on a perfect day, as blue as the calm waters of a lake, as blue as Jerry's startled eyes, when they'd shot him with the bullet that should have killed the husband. Their hands did not reach out to grab her. Their arms did not lift her and carry her to the balcony. Their eyes saw the blue, instead of the red, and nothing happened. Nothing at all.

The husband used their throat to give a frenzied cry of frustration. And then the struggle began. It was a classic struggle of right versus wrong, of good against evil. And he, Jimmy, could feel his power ebb.

Too strong. The husband was too strong to control, and he took the upper hand. Greed made him pick her up in their arms, and evil made their feet step closer and closer to the balcony door. Out into the night air the husband carried her, to the very edge of the balcony. And then they both heard a sound, one that filled the husband with despair and Jimmy with hope. The police were breaking in the door.

 

 

Sam rushed in and stopped as he saw the open balcony door. Brad had her in his arms, and he was about to throw her over the balcony. He shouted. Brad turned. And then he called out the name. “Jimmy! Stop him, Jimmy! If you love her, stop him!”

That was the boost he needed the extra push to give him enough control. She was his love, and the strength of that love made their feet pause. And stumble. And their arms tremble with the effort of carrying her. Their knees buckled, and his love dropped heavily to the floor. Evil would not triumph this time.

And then he found the courage to do what he should have done long ago, when the husband had first appeared. He would drive out the demon, even if it meant his own death. He had written that last line in the husband's note, and it was true. He loved her more than life itself. And now his love was safe. The lawyer would take good care of her.

He made their body turn, and leap, and crash through the rail. There was an instant of euphoria as he fell. The deed was done. The battle was won. Good had truly triumphed over evil. The ground rushed up with a mighty force, and he met it with an exultant cry.

EPILOGUE

She opened her eyes to the blinding whiteness. At first she didn't understand; her mind was floating from place to place, and it was difficult to think. Then she remembered, and she felt a chill creep over her body. She must be dead, and in the center of the white light everyone talked of when they'd had a near-death experience. She'd always thought those stories were ridiculous, but now it appeared that they were true, after all.

There was a haze in front of her eyes that she couldn't blink away. Everything shimmered and swam in a white sea. Brad had killed her, pushed her over the balcony, just as he'd planned. But this time he wouldn't get away with it. Sam knew. And George knew. All they had to do was prove it to the police, and Brad would get the punishment he deserved.

She felt tears gather in her eyes as she thought of Sam. Poor, dear Sam. How guilty he must feel that he hadn't gotten there in time to save her. He'd been right all along, and she'd ridiculed him and told him he was crazy. She wished she could tell him how sorry she was. She should have put her trust in Sam instead of Brad.

Too little, too late. The cliché rushed through her mind with startling clarity. She'd put too little faith in the one man she should have trusted. And now it was too late. How happy she'd been the night she'd stayed at his town house, watching glimpses of his family, and admiring the closeness that had surrounded him as a child. If she'd only known then what she knew now.

Sam had asked her to marry him. How different things would have been, if she'd agreed to be his wife. She'd fought that closeness, that love she'd felt for Sam, and she'd chosen Brad instead. She knew now that she'd made a terrible mistake. Sam would have loved the twins as his own. And Trish and Rick had already loved Sam.

Trish and Rick. What would happen to them, now that she was gone? There was Rosa, of course. Rosa would love them and care for them. But was Rosa's love enough? They'd been so brave, but now they had to endure another tragedy. Their whole family had been wiped out by one man, one monster. The twins had warned her. From the mouths of babes. And she hadn't listened to them.

Thank God they had Sam! He would love and comfort them at this terrible time. Without Sam they would have been lost.

The room revolved as she turned her head. It was an illusion, of course. She couldn't really turn her head. The light was blinding, but she managed to make out a huddled figure near her. Who could it be? An angel? A fellow traveler in the great beyond?

There was another illusion. Her eyes seemed to blink. And then she saw the dear features of the man she had come to love. Sam. He was here by her side. But how could he be here, unless Brad had killed him, too?

It was simply too horrible to contemplate, and her eyes snapped shut. It was just another illusion. But when she opened them again, Sam was still there. Tears streamed down her face. No! It couldn't be! The twins needed Sam!

Then he was leaning over her, brushing the tears from her cheeks. And she could feel his hands on her face. She opened her mouth and cried out, “Sam! Oh, no, Sam!”

“Easy, Marcie. You're going to be just fine. Just hang on a second, and I'll call the doctor.”

What doctor? A dead doctor? But that was . . .

She blinked again and the room swam into focus. She was in bed. In a white room. With white sheets and a white blanket. She wasn't dead! Brad hadn't killed her. She was in a hospital room, and the blinking white light was only the sun shining through the blinds at the window!

“Well, well.” A man in a white coat approached her bed. “It's about time you opened your eyes. You have a nasty gash on your head, but you're going to be just fine.”

“Sam?” Marcie felt panic sweep through her. Had Sam really been there? Or had it been merely a dream?

“I'm here, Marcie.” Sam appeared beside the doctor. “Let the doctor check you over. And if he says it's okay, I'll bring in Rosa and the twins.”

Marcie winced as she turned her head so she could see him better. “They're here?”

“They caught the six
A.M.
flight. I told them you were going to be all right, but they insisted on coming to see for themselves.”

Marcie smiled. “They just wanted an excuse to miss school. But I'm so glad they're here, Sam. They were right about . . . Sam! Did they catch him?”

” It's all right, Marcie.” Sam saw the terror that flooded her face. “He's dead. He can't hurt anyone now. Just stay quiet, and let the doctor examine you. I'll go out and tell them you're awake.”

Marcie's mind was whirling as the doctor probed and prodded. She hardly felt it as he examined her wound and re-bandaged it. It seemed to take forever but when he was through, he nodded. “I want you to stay overnight, just to make sure. We'll release you tomorrow.”

“Oh, thank you!” Marcie smiled at him. “Could you ask Sam to come in? There's something I want to tell him.”

A moment later, Sam was at her bedside. “What is it, Marcie?”

“I just wanted to say . . .” Marcie blinked back tears. “I'm sorry, Sam. I should have believed you. When I woke up, I thought I was dead. And I realized how different things would have been if I'd married you instead of Brad.”

Sam smiled at her tenderly. And then he said something that made Marcie smile through her tears.

“I'll tell you a secret, Marcie. It's not too late.”