Nightfall (30 page)

He half expected her to argue. But she seemed worn out by emotion. She closed her eyes obediently, and in moments she was sound asleep, his body still covering hers, his hands still caught in hers.

Cassie could hear the shower running. She didn't move, didn't want to. The bed was warm, soft, comforting, and as long as she didn't leave it, reality wouldn't intrude.

She'd made up her mind. Sometime, she wasn't sure when, the last doubt had fallen. Maybe it was when he'd held out his arms to her in the hospital waiting room. Maybe it was when he'd threatened to throw her mother out the window. Maybe she'd always known it, and just been trying to deny it.

It no longer mattered what he had done. She'd lost the ability to judge between right and wrong. All that mattered was that she loved him, needed to be with him. If there was something evil and sinful about that, so be it. She was willing to pay the price.

She knew she would be paying, for the rest of her life. She didn't care. She would take what little time fate had to offer them. She wouldn't fight it, or him, anymore.

She must have dozed off for a while. When she awoke, he was sitting on the bed, wearing jeans and a black T-shirt, his face remote, wary.

"Do you think your mother will be back?"

She considered it, sliding back against the pillows. "Not likely. She's a devout coward, and if I know Robert, he'll encourage her to think you'll kill her. Heaven only knows, she brings out murderous impulses in the gentlest of people."

"And I hardly qualify as that, do I?"

Testing again. She wasn't going to let him do it to her anymore. "Has there been any word from Mabry?" She changed the subject.

"I talked with her about fifteen minutes ago, while you were sleeping. She's busy with paperwork, and then she'll be back. She wanted to know how you were doing."

"I shouldn't have left her," Cassie said guiltily. "I should have gone to find her…"

"You weren't in any shape. For God's sake, can't you think of yourself for once, instead of everyone else? Mabry's a grown woman, she can take care of herself."

"I should have been there…" she said stubbornly.

"No. You should have been with me."

There was no way she could argue with him, when it was simply the truth. "Sean would have hated dying like that," she said. "Drifting away in a hospital bed. He would have wanted to go out in a blaze of glory."

"Do not go gentle into that good night?" Richard said softly.

"Exactly."

"We don't always get what we want, and life isn't particularly fair."

She managed the faintest of smiles. "There's a news flash." She sat up. "I should get back to the hospital and bring Mabry home. She needs some rest. If the damned paperwork can't wait, I'll take care of it."

"Do you want me to come with you?"

She thought of the wary, frightened looks the hospital personnel had given him. She thought of her need to burrow deep and hide in her sorrow. To isolate, to get through tough things alone. "Yes," she said.

She was unprepared for his reaction. He'd been guarding himself, shielding himself, waiting for her rejection. For her to run. "Yes?" he echoed.

"I need you."

They were words that she'd heard, but never spoken to another living being. She spoke them to Richard.

The effect was astonishing. For the first time she saw real vulnerability on his dark, shuttered face. And then he put his arms around her, holding her tight against him, not saying a word. She could feel the tension, the tightly leashed power in his muscles, she could feel a thousand things rushing through him, things without a name. And then, before she could say another word, he released her, left the bed, and moved toward the door. "Take your time," he muttered, not turning back. "I'll have some food waiting."

The shower went part way toward making her feel human, and she had little doubt food would take her the rest of the way. The kitchen was deserted when she walked in, but the table was set with steaming soup, a cold can of diet Coke, and croissants. She had no appetite, but the man definitely had his good points.

"Hullo, darling," Mabry said from the doorway as Cass sat down to wait for him.

"Oh, Mabry," she said brokenly, rising.

"No tears, darling. Sean would hate it," Mabry said, shaking her flaxen hair. She suddenly looked decades older, but her eyes were clear and dry. "We can make a suitable fuss at the wake, of course, but for now he'd prefer something a little more elegant."

"I'm afraid I've given up on pleasing him," Cass said. "I never could be the daughter he wanted."

"You were exactly the daughter he wanted," Mabry said fiercely, giving her a shake. "And he knew it, even if he never told you so." She moved away from the doorway to lean with her hands on the windowsill, looking out into the dark afternoon.

"Have you talked with Francesca yet? How's she doing? And has anyone been able to get in touch with Colin?"

"Lord knows where your half brother is. I've set your mother and stepfather to tracking him down. It'll keep her occupied." She sighed, pushing her pale blond hair away from her face. "Francesca knows, but she doesn't seem to want to deal with it. Amberson suggested he take her up to their summer place in Vermont, and I said that was probably wise."

Again that odd feeling of uneasiness. "Are you certain that's a good idea? Shouldn't the family be together… ?"

"I trust the general. He's raised one daughter, poor man, and I think he sees Francesca as a substitute. He'll take good care of her, and we won't have to worry about how she's handling things."

"I'd like to talk to her."

"Honestly, Cass, I don't know what you're fussing about. I don't know their phone number—he gave it to me but I was too addled to write it down. We'll just have to wait until he calls in."

Cassie picked up a croissant, slowly, deliberately, trying to stuff her unreasoning feeling of panic. "She's only thirteen, Mabry. She may act like she's older, but she's really just a child."

"All the better that she be with the general and his wife. I've never had children, and neither have you. You don't want her around Richard, do you?"

The question was shocking, point-blank, and Cassie's response was instinctive. And unexpected. "I'd trust him with Francesca."

Mabry managed a crooked smile. "Love has made you blind, Cass. I never thought to see the day. Or is it lust?"

"Mabry…"

"Forgive me," she said, contrite. "Alice was kind enough to tell me where she found you when she barged in here. I'm a bit over the edge, but I shouldn't have said that. Obviously you've decided that Richard never killed anyone. I'm glad."

"I didn't say that. I can only go by my instincts. And my instincts tell me that he wouldn't hurt an innocent child."

"But do you have any right to endanger another human being on the sole basis of your instincts?" Mabry asked.

"You know I can't make that decision."

"Then let's leave it alone," Mabry said wearily. "Leave Francesca where she is."

"Leave who where she is?" Richard appeared in the kitchen doorway, and Cassie felt the familiar, treacherous warmth filling her, despite his distant expression, his failure to come close to her.

"Cass's sister," Mabry said briskly, getting up and moving past him. She paused, looking at him, and there was both dignity and warning in her cool gaze. "You got what you wanted, Richard. She loves you. She's obsessed by you, willing to believe and do everything you want her to. Sean would be proud of you."

"What are you talking about?" Cass demanded.

"I would have thought you'd caught on by now. You were Sean's virgin sacrifice. Richard saw your picture on Sean's desk and said you were part of the deal. He'd cooperate with the book, give Sean everything he wanted, but in return Sean had to deliver up his daughter."

"Don't be ridiculous," Cass snapped. "Sean couldn't have done any such thing. I wasn't his to deliver."

"You're here, aren't you? You were in Richard's bed. Sean said he'd get you up here, and the rest was up to Richard. As far as Sean was concerned, you needed a little change, a little excitement in your life. Don't be naive, Cass. You knew something was going on."

Cass had gone numb, a small blessing. "Like fucking a murderer? That was supposed to broaden my horizons?"

Mabry shrugged. "You know Sean. But you don't have to go along with it anymore. The book is finished, and it's a masterpiece. Sean is dead, and he doesn't need you or anyone to dance to his tune any longer." She moved past Richard, cool and graceful. "I thought it was about time you knew the whole truth." And then she was gone, leaving them alone in the kitchen.

Cassie stared down at her meal. Her soup was cold, her diet Coke was warm, the croissant ripped into a thousand tiny pieces. "The truth," she said in a quiet voice. "Just how much more truth is there?" She raised her head to meet his oblique gaze. "You didn't kill your children or Sally Norton. You did murder your wife. You seduced me for the sole purpose of taking over the care of your children. You said you fell in love with me. You made a bargain with my father. I'm surprised you didn't make a bet as well. How long would it take to get beneath my skirts. How long it would take before I'd go down on you. How long…"

"Cassie." His voice was cool, emotionless, as hers was overwrought.

"I should be used to it," Cass continued in a musing voice. "I shouldn't feel so damned sorry for myself. My father has never been anything other than what he's appeared to be. And you certainly never tried to convince me you were a white knight, falsely accused of monstrous crimes. If anything, you've encouraged me to believe the worst of you. Why, Richard? Why won't you defend yourself? Why won't you tell me I'm wrong, that I wasn't just the means to an end, a mother for your children and an easy lay? That my father wasn't ready to barter my heart, my body, and even my life for the sake of his own ego and some goddamn book?"

"It doesn't matter what I tell you. You're going to have to decide what you want to believe."

"And if I believe that you're a manipulative, uncaring bastard, what would you say to that?"

"That you're probably right."

"That you have no qualms about killing in order to further your plans. And that's to see your children taken care of, isn't it? A noble enough motive. Is that why you killed your wife? You didn't think she was a good enough mother?"

He didn't answer. He simply stood there, leaning against the cupboards, watching her.

"Or was it simple jealousy? She was carrying another man's child, and you couldn't stand' it. Were you always pathologically possessive? You'd rather be accused of murdering your own children than let them fall into anyone else's hands. It must be one more revenge against Diana for cheating on you. Keeping her children away from their grandparents was the final, cheap shot."

He blinked, just a flash of expression, and then it was gone again. "Whatever you choose to believe, Cassie," he murmured.

"You're so good," she said in a wondering voice. "So damnably good at twisting people. At twisting me. I look at you and know what you're capable of, know the lies, and yet I keep thinking there has to be an excuse. A reason, behind all of this, that justifies everything. That justifies lying and cheating and manipulating, that justifies murder. But for the life of me, I can't imagine what it could be."

Something cracked. Some glimmer of an emotion so fierce that it robbed Cassie of her breath and heartbeat. He moved, quickly, coming close to her, his hands on the arms of the chair, imprisoning her, his face in his, so that she could see the bleakness of death in his eyes. "Can't you?" he whispered, his voice raw and cracked. "When you figure it out, come find me. If it's not too late."

"How can I fight it if you don't?" she demanded fiercely. "How can I make sense of it if you go running after death just as hard as Sean fought it?"

"That's your problem." He backed away, quickly, heading toward the door, leaving her. And then he paused, and she could see the strength that surged through his tall, lean body, as he pulled some semblance of control back around him. When he turned, his eyes were black and glittering in his face, his expression distant, impassive, chillingly polite. "By the way, what were you and Mabry talking about?"

Cassie stared at him blankly. "What do you mean?"

"You and Mabry were talking about Francesca. That's your younger sister, isn't it?"

"Yes. And don't start thinking she can take my place. You can't seduce her and make her take care of your children."

"Why not?" he said coolly, taunting her.

"Because she's only thirteen years old," Cass shot back. "Besides, she's safe and sound up in Vermont. With luck she'll never have to meet you."

She was unprepared for his reaction. All color left his face, and he looked like death. "In Vermont?" he echoed hoarsely.

"Your ex-father-in-law is looking after her. He's very fond of her."

"Oh, God," Richard moaned. "Jesus fucking God, no!" And he staggered from the room like a man who'd been struck by lightning. Leaving Cassie behind, all her horrified instincts in flame.

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The old man had won. He should have known, when it came to evil as monumental as retired General Amberson Scott, there was very little anyone could do to retaliate. He was an experienced campaigner. Each encounter was met with a devastating counterattack, and he'd struck the final, decisive blow.

Richard could go to any lengths to protect his children. He could barter his soul, kill, destroy, corrupt, all for the sake of Seth and Ariel. But he couldn't let another innocent be sacrificed.

Scott knew it. It was only a wonder he hadn't played his trump card before now. But then, there hadn't been any need. Richard had been planning to go to his death quietly, without any degree of fuss. Scott would have his revenge, and there the matter would end.

He could thank Cassie for the change, he knew it. Somehow she must have let something slip about the children, damn her soul. The general now had something to live for, besides revenge.