Shrouded in Darkness (Shrouded Series) (33 page)

Margot balled her hands into fists. “Johnny alive?”

Joyce’s gaze narrowed. “I don’t care if he’s alive or dead. It doesn’t change a thing for me. My brother is dead. I tried to stop it.

I told Carl again and again to keep out of our business. I never thought Malcolm would go that far.”

”What do you mean by ‘our business’?”

Joyce’s lip curled. “You’re so self-centered. You never look beyond your own problems.”

“What are you saying?”

“I was seeing Malcolm. Carl hated the idea. He started digging into things no matter how much I told him to stop. All I wanted to do was get out of this hell hole of a place. I thought Malcolm was the key. I was wrong. But I still have a chance with the formula.

Where is it?”

Margot swallowed, tension snapped into her muscles. Oh, God, all this time Joyce was in on this. “Formula?”

“Come off it, Margot. I’m not buying the stupid act. I know everything. Malcolm told me. I want it. I didn’t save you just because of our ‘friendship’.”

Betrayal tasted bitter against Margot’s throat. “I don’t know where it is.”

“You have to know!” Joyce stepped deeper into the room. Her eyes glittered, but not from tears. Rage shone from their depths.

“Carl was never supposed to die. I begged him. You don’t know how many times I told him to keep his nose out of it. I knew Malcolm was getting nervous. But I never thought—Malcolm promised me he wouldn’t do anything, but he lied. It was supposed to be so simple. Get the formula and get out of town.”

“Nothing’s ever simple,” Margot whispered. She glanced at the gun in the Joyce’s hand. At least she didn’t have it pointed at her. Yet. “How about you put the gun down and we can talk this out? I’m sure between the two of us, we can find the formula.”

“Liar. You’re just like Malcolm.” New tears spilled from her eyes as her face curled up in fury. “You lie. Everyone lies. You’re all the same. Do you think I’m that stupid? You’ll turn me in the second you get the chance.”

Oh, God. Rationalizing wasn’t going to work. Margot eased backward. One step. Two. Four more and she might get to the open window before Joyce decided to plug her with holes.

Joyce lifted the gun in a tight-fisted hand. In horror, Margot jumped to the side. The gun went off in a loud boom. The bullet hit the wall to her right. Plaster and paint sprayed Margot’s face. Margot clambered over the window ledge to the roof.

She slipped against the slick tile but regained her footing. Patches of snow and ice covered a good part of the roof. Joyce appeared from the window, straddling the ledge with the gun in her hand. Two seconds and she’d pull the trigger again.

Damn it. Blood pounding in her ears, using a hand against the brick for balance, Margot lunged and kicked out. Her boot connected with Joyce’s wrist. Crying out, Joyce jerked back. The gun tumbled from her grasp and skidded across the veranda’s sloped roof to bunt up against the easement.

Margot could try to scramble down and get it or escape along the veranda’s roof. Deciding on the later, she edged slowly across the tile and along the perimeter of the second story wall, trailing a hand across the brick for support. On this side of the house, the ground had several outcroppings of rocks hidden beneath the snow. Last summer, she’d pulled them from the dirt to prepare for a flower garden. She didn’t want to take a chance on landing on one of them.

Around ten feet more and the veranda sloped downward several feet. It would be easier to drop down to the ground from there without getting hurt. There were several low-lying bushes that could break her fall. She moved quicker, using both hands now along the wall.

Joyce followed. Margot heard the scrape of her shoe against the tile, her breath growing louder with each passing second. She didn’t dare look back. It would only slow her down and frighten her that much more.

Suddenly, Joyce grasped her upper arm. Margot choked back a scream of surprise. The pressure of her fingers deepened as she tugged Margot back toward her. She tried to shrug off Joyce’s hold. Shifting sideways, she rammed her nails into the brick, scraping her fingers, then her cheek against the unyielding wall as she struggled to latch onto any crevice.

Joyce pulled harder at her arm, digging and bruising her skin with vicious fingers. The woman’s rage was giving her a strength Margot never imagined possible. Margot lost her grip against the brick, skidding up against Joyce’s chest.

“Bitch.” Joyce’s breath crawled across her ear. “You had everything. Everything and you tossed it away.”

Margot jabbed an elbow into Joyce’ stomach. Grunting, Joyce staggered back and pulled Margot along with her. The sudden jarring movement and the snow beneath Margot’s feet thrust her off balance. She landed hard on her back with Joyce half on top of her. The action slid them toward the edge of the roof. Margot caught the eaves with the heel of her shoe, saving her from tumbling closer to the edge but dislodging the gun. The weapon tumbled over the roof’s edge.

One wrong move and Joyce could push her over the side. She’d hit one of those rocks and die from a bashed in head. It wouldn’t take much with the way she was losing her strength. She was winded and weakening with each passing second.

She needed to somehow get past Joyce to the window. If she could get into the house, maybe lock the window after her, she might get the car keys and get behind the wheel. Then she’d be able to get help. But she had to get to the window first.

Pushing off the eaves with one foot, Margot lunged to the left of Joyce. On hands and knees, she scrambled over the tile, hell bent on getting to the window. Joyce grabbed at her waist, hooking her fingers around her waistband, then landing on her back.

Margot went down in a loud gasp, the air knocked completely out of her lungs.

Margot managed to get enough room between them to drive an elbow into Joyce’s ribs. She heard a groan as she rolled sideways. Joyce was to her right when she lifted her knees up against her chest and thrust her feet out and connected with Joyce’s stomach. Joyce growled, skidding down across the tile, her feet, ankles, then calves sliding off the roof’s edge.

Panic flared in Joyce’s face as she continued to slip over the ledge. She clawed forward frantically, seizing Margot’s leg, then her waist. Her weight pulled Margot along with her.

Margot dug into the tile and snow with her hands. Her fingers, nails torn and bloodied, came up empty. She slid towards the roof’s edge, inch by tortuous inch, unable to kick out, unable to do anything while Joyce grappled over her, trying to drag herself up as she continued to slither across the snow. Joyce’s weight, too heavy for the both of them, drew Margot relentlessly toward the eaves.

Margot didn’t have time to pray. She didn’t have time to do anything but close her eyes as she plummeted from the roof and followed Joyce into the air.

A piercing cry cut through the mournful sigh of the wind as Jake ran up the embankment toward the house. With knife-like pain stabbing his temple where Macolm had hit him with the shovel, he glanced up to the roof and saw Margot and another woman up there, both fighting and locked in some obscene shuffle.

He quickened his pace, kicking up snow, pushing his arms and legs until they screamed from the abuse. Frigid air cut into his lungs. Sweat broke on his brow and chilled his already cold skin as he raced toward the house.

Suddenly, they rolled off the roof. He heard the sickening thump as both bodies hit the ground. Nothing but stillness and silence carried over the wind.

“No!”

He stumbled, caught his balance by grabbing onto a tree branch, and charged out into the clearing and over to Margot’s motionless body.

“For the love of God, don’t do this—”

Jake collapsed onto his hands and knees beside Margot, uncaring of the snow’s bitter cold against his bare palms. She lay face up, both arms flung out to her sides, her eyes closed, her skin almost as white as the snow around her.

Quickly, he checked for a pulse and found one, strong and steady against his fingers.

“Margot?” His words scraped against his throat. “Can you hear me?”

Her lashes flickered, but remained shut. He glanced over at the other woman several yards from her side. Joyce. The short blonde hair gave her away. Her body rested face down in the snow, unmoving. Knowing Joyce wasn’t going to be much of a threat any time soon, he turned back to Margot.

She hadn’t stirred. Scared of the seriousness of her injuries, he didn’t attempt to move her. He didn’t have the equipment or know-how to work with a possible spinal injury. He wasn’t that type of doctor. He rose on one knee with the intention of calling for an ambulance, but paused when a sigh whispered past Margot’s lips.

Her lids flickered open, and she squinted up at him. “My head. What—”

“Can you move? How are your limbs? Do they have feeling?”

She wiggled her fingers in the snow beside her. “Okay, I think.”

He helped her struggle into a sitting position.

She winced and placed a hand to her brow. “Oh, yeah. I have feeling. It feels like a semi-truck flattened me.”

“I wouldn’t make any sudden moves. You’re bound to have hurt something with that fall.”

Panic flared into her eyes, and the rest of her face leached of color. “Where’s Joyce?” She pivoted at the waist and stiffened.

“Oh, God. She shot and killed Malcolm and tried to do the same with me.”

She backpedaled, flinging snow with the heels of her shoes as she slid away from Joyce and into Jake’s arms. He caught her head against the crook of his arm and chest.

“Is she...”

“I don’t know.”

He held her in his arms and ran a soothing hand over the silk of her hair. She was shaking in shock. Her body felt like a damn block of ice. He needed to get her in the house and soon, before she went into hypothermia.

He also had to check on Joyce. Easing his arms from around Margot, he rose to his feet and stepped over to Joyce’s prone body. He rolled her onto her back. Snow clung to her lashes and hair and an ugly gash cut across her temple. Blood had congealed in thick patches over her brow, temple and cheek. More blood stained the snow where she’d lain, while her eyes, unblinking and blind, stared up to the sky. He felt for a pulse to double-check.

“She’s dead.”

Jake glanced up at the second story of the house and the open window. Malcolm must be up there. Dead. Jake didn’t know what he felt. There was no relief, no exhilaration, absolutely nothing but indifference right now. Maybe that would change.

“We need to call the deputy on duty,” Margot said from behind him. “The house phone is dead. I have my cell somewhere.

Probably in the kitchen. They haven’t filled Carl’s old position yet. I don’t know how in the world I’m going to be able to explain this.”

He glanced over his shoulder and found Margot standing behind him. She was looking at Joyce with a mixture of horror and disbelief. If at all possible, the pallor to her face had worsened. Jake needed to get her away from here.

“When it comes to Joyce, I guess it would be self-defense. It’s not like I murdered her or for that matter Malcolm. They’re not going to think I tried to kill him. He did force his way in.” She let Jake lead her across the yard, up the stairs and into the house.

“The police will see how dangerous Malcolm really was. They just have to look into his history. There’s the police report filed when the house was vandalized, and his arrest. And of course, there’s the restraining order back in Boston. That should clear any suspicion of foul play.”

He stiffened, alarm crawling across his flesh. He shut the door behind them and turned to face her. “What are you talking about?”

She shrugged. “Nothing.”

“No, it’s something.” He frowned down at her. “I want to know. What happened in Boston?”

She blinked, and looked up at him now with clear, focused eyes. “After the divorce, I’d put a restraining order against Malcolm. I’d since had it revoked, but at the time I was afraid of him.”

“Why?”

“His temper.”

Margot sensed the immediate change in Jake’s body. It fairly oozed with tension, while the planes of his face had grown rigid.

She placed a reassuring hand on the corded muscles of his forearm. “It was an accident. He caught me in the parking lot of the apartment where I’d moved after filing for the divorce. I didn’t want to talk. I didn’t want him anywhere near me. He wouldn’t listen, but followed me up the stairs to my place on the second floor. He wouldn’t leave me alone. We argued. I don’t remember the particulars—probably subconsciously blocked most from my mind. I do remember being on the landing and thinking that he was going to hit me. I stumbled, tripped over something I think. I’m not sure. The cement stairs were closer than either one of us thought.

I fell down them and ended up in the hospital with a broken hip.”

He pulled her gently into his arms and cradled her head against his shoulder with a trembling hand. “I’m so sorry. Life’s hit you below the belt too many times.” He kissed her lightly against her temple. “You’re one strong lady. Any other person would have cracked.”

“You don’t understand. I almost did. I was so close to being hospitalized. I had to get on anti-depressants for a while.” She pulled back and gazed up at him. “As for today, if not for you, I’d still be drinking, hiding behind some drunken fog. Don’t get me wrong, I still have that craving—probably always will—but I can beat it. You gave me the insight and will to climb out of the hellhole I dug myself into.”

“Well, you’re not alone now. I want you to know that you can count on me. Always. I’ll do whatever it takes. Remember that.”

His words touched her heart like nothing else could. “Thank you. I needed to hear that.” Reluctantly she drew away. “I guess it can’t be delayed any longer. I’ll make the call to the police. You need to disappear for a couple of hours.”

“Oh, no. I don’t think so. I’m not about to let you do this alone.”