Perfect Victim, The (56 page)

"Come with me
.
I'd like to talk with you for a few minutes." He motioned toward the door
.
"Please
.
"

Hoping to stall for time, she obeyed.

The hall led to a wide salon that smelled of eucalyptus and heated air. The mini-blinds had been drawn and closed
tightly. A curving double settee upholstered in white leather lined the port side. Twin ebony coffee tables complemented the settee. Opposite, an entertainment center replete with a large-screen TV and stereo system dominated the entire starboard wall.

"Please, sit down."

Addison started at the sound of his voice. She'd been staring at the opulent surroundings, tormented by the thought that it would be the last place she'd ever see.

Turning, she faced him, acutely aware that her knees were shaking. "Why am I here?"

"I wanted to meet you, of course."

"You'll never get away with this," she said, swallowing the fear that had lodged in her throat like a sharp bone.

"Get away with what, Miss Fox?"

"You brought me here against my will."

"I merely want to talk to you. Sit down."

She sank into the settee.

He walked to a small bar and poured two fingers of amber liquid into a tumbler. "Would you like a cognac?"

"What I'd like, Tate, is for you to tell me what the hell this is all about."

He poured a second drink and carried it over to her, setting it on the end table next to her when she refused to accept it. With the verve of a dramatic actor, he raised his glass in a solitary toast. "Power, Miss Fox." Never taking his eyes from her, he sipped. "It's all about power. More valuable than gold. More sought after than money. The greatest aphrodisiac in the world. Wars have been waged over power. More men have been killed for power than for all the jewels in the world." He set the cognac on the coffee table. "Frankly, I'm not willing to give it up for the likes of you."

"You murdered my parents."

"Unfortunate, but necessary, I'm afraid. Your father knew who your birth mother was. I couldn't risk exposure. I had no choice but to silence them both."

"Agnes Beckett. Jim Bernstein. You murdered them in cold blood."

"How else is it that you kill someone? With warm thoughts? With regret?
"
He smiled. "I don't think so. A man does what he must to survi
v
e."

"This wasn't about your survival
.
"

"I have no desi
r
e to see my life ruined by scandal."

He spoke of the people he'd murdered as though their lives had had no more significance than that of an insect
.
It took every ounce of her control not to launch herself at him, if only for
'
a fleeting moment of primal satisfaction. For an instant
,
she imagined gouging those gray
,
emotionless eyes with the manicure scissors, slashing his face, drawing blood.

Instead, she forced herself to relax and focus. It was time she needed now. Time was her only hope.

"
Politicians have been forgiven for much worse than an illegitimate child," she said
.
''Ted Kennedy and Chappaquiddick
.
"

"Ah, but there
'
s so much
power
in a name. Look what happened to poor Mr. Edwards back in the election of 2008. One indiscretion and he was ruined forever."

She pretended to consider his words; all the while her mind scrambled wildly. She needed time. To think. To plan. Questions would keep him talking. "What
about Agnes Beckett?"

"The mistake of a
,
shall we say
,
irresponsible young man."

"Mistake? You beat and raped a sixteen-year-old girl
.
That
'
s not a mistake. That's an atrocity committed by a monster."

In the backwaters of her mind, she saw the tiny mobile home in the poor section of a town so small it barely made the map. She remembered the bloodstains on the cheap paneling, the ghastly pictures Sheriff McEvoy had left for her to see
.

"Your mother was nothing more than a piece of white trash
.
An ignorant and uneducated whore who knew more about the carnal pleasures by the time she was sixteen than most women know in a lifetime
.
The only thing she had
going for her and ever would was her body. I gave her exactly what she wanted that night. I drove her home. Things got hot and heavy. She didn't know her place." He shrugged. "I was just a kid. I had a bright future ahead of me. I couldn't let her ruin that."

"You're a monster."

His eyes glinted cruelly. "Insatiable is the word the men in town used to describe her. She liked it rough. And she knew what she was getting into. Let's just say she got paid to submit." He studied her, rubbing the cleft of his chin with his thumb. "The likeness is incredible."

"You son of a bitch." She reached for the decanter and swung it with all her might. His face went from composed to utterly astonished. She aimed for the side of his head, but he deflected the blow with his forearm. The decanter slipped from her hand.

Out of nowhere, a pair of strong hands grasped her arms from behind. Cruel fingers sank into her biceps and jerked her back.

"You're a coward," she said between clenched teeth. "When this hits the media, you're finished."

Tate's face tightened with anger. "Let her go," he said to his bodyguard.

The man released her.

"Leave us," Tate said.

Over the pounding of her heart, Addison heard the other man leave the room. "Why now?" she asked. "After all these years?"

"You were getting too close."

"How did you know?”

A smile whispered across his features. "I kept tabs on you and your activities through our mutual friend, Mr. Bernstein. I employed him when I first learned he was delving into your mother's case."

Denial welled up and overflowed. "I don't believe you. Jim wouldn't . . ." The sense of betrayal sliced her. She couldn't finish the sentence. "He had no reason to—"

"The man had four sons." His eyes glinted like ice. ''They all wanted to be lawyers like their esteemed father. Imagine the cost of sending four ambitious
young men to law school
.
I simply offered to finance his children's
'
education for his cooperation."

"Then you killed him."

"He'd served his purpose." He studied her intently. "If it's any consolation, Bernstein felt quite badly for what he did to you."

Addison stared at him, speechless and sick to her soul
.

Tate continued. "Bernstein had been hoping Beckett's death would satisfy your curiosity about your birth parents and end your search. He was an idiot. I knew sooner or later you would cause problems for me."

"Now you're going to murder me, too. Is that it? Is that how you're going to solve this?"

"I never wanted it to come to this, Miss Fox. Murder is an unpleasant business
to say the least
.
"

'
''Especially when you get caught
.
"

Cold amusement played behind his eyes. "You've got guts. I admire that greatly. This time, unfortunately, your bravery won't be rewarded."

Addison fought off nerves and struggled to keep the conversation moving, keep him talking. "I don't know why I'm here. What do you want from me?"

"I'm not sure what I had expected tonight
.
I was curious, I suppose."

"Curious about what?"

"You
.
My daughter."

The words sickened her
.
Without realizing it, she stepped away from him as if she'd suddenly realized that he was a carrier of a terrible disease. "You're insane."

"I assure you, I'm quite sane. You see, my wife has
been told she'll never bear children. She's infertile. Therefore, you're probably the only offspring I'll ever have. I'm really quite sorry that our time together has been so short. It would have been interesting to know you better
.
Not many people
intrigue me. You do, Addison. You're a very intriguing young woman."

He strode to the coffee table nearest her. Reaching into the breast pocket of his shirt, he removed a, brown prescription bottle and tapped three blue pills into her drink. "This should make the corning hours easier for you."

Addison's heart banged against her ribs.
He's going to kill me
, she thought with an eerie, calm.

He swirled the tumbler and handed it to her. "Drink it."

Terror thrashed inside her, like a bull whip slapping at her nerves. "No."

"I can tell you now that your death won't be a pleasant one." Patiently, he set the tumbler on the coffee table. "In a few minutes, Kyle will return. On my orders, he will bind your hands behind your back, Then we're going to go for a little ride out to sea."

"There are enough people who know about this to put you away for the rest of your life."

"Like your private detective?" He chuckled. "Don't be naive. Surely you realize he's dead."

"He's not dead," she choked. "He's not."

For a moment, he looked almost sympathetic, but his eyes remained as cold and hard as granite. "I've hired Kyle to take the
Anastasia
to Fort Lauderdale for the winter. Once out at sea, he will weight your body with the auxiliary anchor he keeps onboard for such occasions, I don't need to tell you what will happen next, do I?”

A shudder ran the length of her.

He grimaced. "It's not my intent for you to suffer. I wish you'd reconsider and take a few sips of the cognac. The Valium will ease your panic. Death will be much easier if you're calm."

The thought of such a horrible death turned her insides to jelly. She choked on the bile that crept into her throat, and found herself wanting to reach for the tumbler.

After a moment, he shrugged. "We've got another hour or so. Let me know if you change your mind." His gray eyes
sought hers and held them for perhaps a full minute before turning abruptly to depress an intercom button built into the wall. "Kyle
,
we're ready."

Addison thought she'd been prepared
.
A half dozen plans of escape and rescue played out in the back of her mind
.
Randall bursting through the door, backed up by a hundred of D
.
C
.
's finest
.
An FBI helicopter hovering overhead, a federal agent speaking into a bullhorn for Tate to give himself up
.
She even envisioned herself making a break for freedom, reaching the upper deck just as a Coast Guard cutter happened by.