Judgement By Fire (18 page)

As luck would
have it, he needed to be in West River to finesse some of the details of
setting up an information office in a mobile vehicle to give out details of the
West River project. His cousin Stephen, head of Avalon Hospitality, should have
been carrying out this task but it seemed he hadn’t been in the office for a
couple of days and wasn’t responding to calls at his home. His secretary had
even gone around to the exclusive condo development where Stephen lived,
fearing her boss was sick. Stephen was nowhere to be found.

It wasn’t the
first time his cousin had taken off on his own like this and Jon couldn’t help
feeling irritated that Stephen should take his duties so lightly. The whole
West River project was in a delicate state, public-relations wise, and it
needed someone at the top to stroke local anxieties and get the ball rolling
again.

Although he’d
made the decision to go himself rather than sending one of his executive board,
Jon was finding it hard to focus on the business at hand. He admitted to
himself that he’d had an alternative agenda for his decision. Something as
mundane as the opening of a new multi-million-dollar hotel complex held little
interest for him this morning. All he wanted to do was to see Lauren.

To add to his
irritation, he’d come out into the company underground car park to find that
the company Jeep he’d been driving for the past few days was gone from the spot
where he’d parked it. However, the keys had been still in another similar
vehicle and he’d signed that out even though the young mechanic on duty had
protested that it was just returned and hadn’t been checked over. The young
employee had insisted he didn’t know who’d taken the vehicle Jon had been
driving, pointing out that it hadn’t been properly signed out. Nevertheless,
impressed to be helping out the boss, the young mechanic had quickly completed
the paperwork on the other vehicle and Jon was soon headed for West River.

He kept to the
main highways for the extra speed they afforded and made good time to West
River and Haverford Castle.

At first, he’d
been a little dismayed at meeting Paul Howard at Lauren’s house, but he’d been
more than a little impressed at the way her friends and neighbors had rallied
round. With the aid of a cleaning team he’d had sent in from Rush. Co. offices,
they’d emptied the studio, scrubbed it from top to bottom, and replaced the
damaged furniture and fittings right down to a coffee-maker, with donated ones
from their homes. It didn’t look quite as cozy as originally, but Paul pointed
out that it wouldn’t take Lauren long to stamp her individual tastes on it.

“We know she
didn’t have any insurance—not many artists can afford things like that,
although Lauren’s work is selling well now and I think she’d soon be out of the
red,” Paul had said, offering Jon a can of soda while he himself popped a cold
beer. “You’re driving,” he’d added pointedly as Jon raised a questioning
eyebrow.

The other man
had made it plain that he no longer held any hostility towards Jon, explaining
that the situation with Lauren had overridden any anxieties he’d had about
fighting the Rush Co. proposals for Haverford Castle.

So it had been
easy for Jon to start talking to the older man, confiding in him the anxieties
about the incidents which had dogged the company over the past few months and
which seemed to be escalating. He found Paul to be a sharp listener with the
incisive mind that his legal training had honed aiding him to cut to the core
of the problems. Paul Howard’s face took on a worried frown as Jon explained
how he and Warren had concluded that there must be some link between last
night’s attempt on Pippa, Pippa’s own earlier urgent request to see the
security chief, and the attack on Lauren’s studio.

“So many of
the things initially looked like accidents or errors. Even the
hit-and-run—Pippa was wearing a dark coat, it was late at night, and the
streetlights aren’t great at that point. If the old lady hadn’t been watching
from her apartment window or Pippa doesn’t regain consciousness, then it could
have been written off as another accident.

“To my mind,
that points to a lot of intelligence behind everything.” Jon finished morosely,
“Obviously, there must be some connection between all the events involving Rush
Co., but for the life of me I can’t see where Lauren fits into all this. In
addition, trashing her studio is very much out of the pattern. So far we
haven’t been able to come up with a thread that goes through everything.”

“But it has to
be someone within the company, someone with a privileged position. Someone
close enough to you to know your movements and to hold you responsible for
whatever’s wrong with his life,” Paul said.

Jon winced as
the other man unwittingly put into words the thoughts that had nibbled at the
edges of his own consciousness since Warren himself had hinted at the same
scenario.

“Unfortunately,
I can’t honestly see how Lauren is tied into all this, either.”  The older man
concluded.

“I can handle
having someone come after me, or after the company. I’d have found them eventually
and dealt with it. But coming after my staff, and…and Lauren. If something
should happen to her…” Jon’s voice was almost a whisper, as if he didn’t dare
bring such thoughts out aloud into the light of day, but Paul heard, and nodded.
Crumpling the drink can, he tossed it into a box of garbage that had been taken
from Lauren’s house. That was when he saw the sorry remains of the antique
grandfather clock.

“That was
Lauren’s most prized possession, after her painting stuff,” Paul said. “It’s
little more than matchsticks now. I’d thought of trying to get it fixed up for
her, but if you look at it, there’s just no way.”

Feeling sick
at the sight of the sad wreckage, Jon brought up a question that had been
pushing little darts of unease into his mind since Warren had raised the
subject the previous night. “Has Lauren mentioned anyone by the name of Steve
to you? Or maybe someone who was calling her a lot?”

Paul rubbed
his chin where an uncharacteristic growth of stubble gave testimony to the
stress he was under, with Lucy  just out of hospital and Lauren possibly in
danger.

“I don’t know,
although she was pretty tense and tired, as though something was on her mind
and interfering with her sleep. Let me think, though. Lucy said something about
Lauren meeting a man in Toronto at an exhibition she was taking part in.
Someone she saw a few times, but….how did Lucy put it? He had good taste
because he liked Lauren’s work, but there was—that’s it. There was no spark
between them!”

Jon was
startled at the sudden shaft of jealousy that burned through him. Lauren was
seeing someone else. Was that her reason for taking so long to get back from
Toronto? Jon checked his watch—he’d been here half-an-hour’ Surely Lauren, with
twenty minutes head start on him and leaving from the farm, which was a good
hour closer to West River, should have arrived by now.

What if she’d
called in to see this other man? This man with good taste?

There was
no spark, though,
his little voice reminded him, but that didn’t stop the
tightening tension that filled him. So it was with mixed emotions of pleasure
and trepidation that he saw Lauren pull into the laneway, although the fact
that she was driving his own beautifully restored l950’s truck certainly came
as a shock!

He wanted to
rush to the vehicle, pull her from the cab and kiss her thoroughly, leaving his
mark on her for the entire world to see. He carefully clamped down on those
primitive cave-man feelings, but not before he’d seen the quick grin that had
passed over Paul Howard’s face—the old guy knew what he was thinking!  

*
* *

            On the rest of the
drive home, Lauren kept remembering her own sick surety that Jon was the
subject of the urgent phone message Warren Dillon had received in Jon’s
kitchen. Now she wondered if that bolt of anxiety hadn’t been some kind of
psychic warning, especially when coupled with the attack on her as she drove
home. It seemed obvious that whoever had pushed her off the road had mistakenly
believed Jon was driving this special and distinctive vehicle and that he was
the target of such dangerous intent.

She was
sickened at the memory of the cavalier salute from the other vehicle’s horn as
it sped away, and sensed that the incident had been intended as a warning of
worse to come. Tension made her grasp the steering wheel tightly as she sped
towards her cottage and an opportunity to warn Jon of the danger he was in. If
only she wasn’t too late!

By the time
she pulled into the Haverford Castle access road and her own cottage came into
view, her nerves were strung more tightly than a concert pitch harp, her
shoulder was throbbing and her wrist already swollen right down past the
knuckles of her fingers. But it wasn’t pain that made Lauren slam on the brakes
and dive out of the truck; it was the sight of Jon casually perched atop
Lauren’s own picnic table, deep in conversation with Paul. Parked at a slant
was his big black Jeep with the Rush Co. insignia emblazoned on its side and
scrape marks on its driver’s side just ahead of the front wheel well!

Seeing the
marks, knowing that the vehicle that drove her off the road must bear some
evidence of the collision, Lauren felt faint for possibly only the second time in
her life. Pain that had nothing at all to do with her physical injuries seared
through her. The deep well of trust within her had been hit by lightning bolts
of betrayal.

“Lauren! Good
to see you home. Wait until you see how we’ve fixed the place up!” Paul called
to her cheerfully from where he stood on the other side of Jon’s vehicle.

Lauren ignored
him as she stared pointedly first at the plainly visible scrape marks on Jon’s
Jeep, then at Jon.

Jon followed
her gaze, the beginnings of a welcoming smile on his face. He’d been looking
forward to seeing her since the moment he’d left the warmth of their tousled
bed that morning, leaving her love-sated and deeply asleep. If she’d stirred at
all as he dressed, he knew he’d have climbed right back into that bed, despite
the fact that he had an early meeting to attend.

Now he wanted
to take her in his arms, kiss her deeply to welcome her back. When he saw the
look on her face, something seemed to shrivel inside him as warning alarms went
off in his mind.

“Lauren,
what’s the matter? Are you ill? My God, you’re white as a sheet!” Jon made as
if to embrace her, but she shook off his arms with a gesture of contempt.

“How could you
ask how I am? You left me there in a snow bank without even a backward glance!
What if I’d not been able to get out? Or been hurt more seriously? What kind of
stupid games are you playing, Jon Rush?” She found the strength to demand.

She’d have
given the world to simply settle into his arms, but it seemed glaringly obvious
that he’d been the one to force her off the road; in which case, his embrace
was hardly a safe harbor.    

“What is she
talking about? Who left you in a snow bank, Lauren? Good God, child, what have
you done to your hand?” Paul’s eyes widened as he took in the angry red
swelling. Jon was ominously silent as Lauren glared at him.

“I came in the
back way, on the shortcut from the 401, and about ten miles away from here
someone in a big black Jeep with the Rush Co. logo on the side forced me off
the road. I skidded into a snow bank, wrenched my shoulder and sprained my
wrist—and it was only by the grace of God that I was able to get out. Otherwise
I’d still be there, freezing my butt off, because there’s not another house for
miles around to get help. Now, tell me how many Rush Co. Jeeps like that are
around here today?

Paul’s shocked
eyes went first to Lauren’s hectic coloring, then locked on Jon’s face, but the
other man’s look was inscrutable. Paul’s look of query was met with an angry
silence.

“Don’t deny
it, Jon,” Lauren continued, fury, fear and an indefinable pain of betrayal
forcing her forward. “I don’t know what you’re doing, but you forgot that your
Jeep would be damaged – look at the scrape marks at the front!”

Both men
swiveled to follow the direction of Lauren’s pointing finger. There was no
mistaking the slight indentation in the front wing or the scrape marks in the paintwork.
Dropping to one knee for a closer inspection, Jon felt his stomach tighten on a
wave of nausea as he noted the tiny shreds of what looked like black fabric
fibers caught on the roughened paint surface. His face paled as he looked
across at Paul and saw by the other man’s expression that his sharp mind had
caught the same shocking idea—that Pippa Williams had been wearing a dark
winter coat when a large four-wheel drive vehicle had almost taken her life.

An unspoken
message passed between the two men.  Cursing himself for not noticing the
damage to the vehicle in the dim light of the underground garage in his hurry
to get out to West River and Lauren, Jon straightened, standing so that his
body blocked any opportunity for Lauren to take a closer look at the damaged
Jeep.   

“Lauren, it
makes sense that if someone in this truck passed the way you said they did,
that they’d have hit you with the
rear
wing of the Jeep. But as you can
see, this vehicle is damaged on the front,” Jon said calmly. “Besides, surely
you don’t think I’m so stupid as to do something like that and then pretend to
know nothing about it?”

“It seems too
much of a coincidence that I get run off the road by one of your company
vehicles and then you turn up here with a damaged vehicle…”

“And what
about my truck? What damage was done to it?” Jon suddenly demanded. “Lauren,
that truck took a lot of work and cost me plenty to fix up.”

Lauren was
taken aback by the callousness of his demand. “I could have been seriously
injured, but you’re worried about your truck? That’s all that’s important to
you, really, isn’t it? Money.”