Sidney Sheldon's Angel of the Dark (17 page)

Claude Demartin practically ran out to his car.

“Put me through to Danny McGuire. Tell him it's Claude Demartin. I have some news.”

 

T
HE MOMENT
M
ATT
D
ALEY'S HEAD HIT
the pillow he felt intensely drowsy. Projecting confidence was one thing. Feeling it was another. The stress of choreographing his and Lisa's escape plan must have taken more out of him than he'd thought.

Once we're away from here, in Morocco, I'll be able to protect her. We'll start again, just the two of us. New jobs, new lives, new identities.

He felt guilty about his sister, Claire, and his mother. It wasn't just Danny McGuire who Matt had disappeared on these past couple of months. It was his entire life back home. His past life, as he was now beginning to think of it. Before he met Lisa. Before he was reborn. His divorce attorney left daily messages, the tones of his e-and voice mails becoming increasingly desperate. If Matt didn't sign this or that paperwork, or show up to this or that hearing, Raquel would get everything.

Everything and nothing,
thought Matt.
Let her have it. Lisa has enough money for both of us, and it's not as if we need much.

He was already half asleep when his cell phone rang.

Danny McGuire.

Wearily, Matt hit ignore then switched the handset off.

The last thing he remembered was Lisa's lissome fingers softly stroking his hair.

 

“H
I, YOU'VE REACHED
M
ATT
D
ALEY
. P
LEASE
leave a message.”

Danny McGuire could have wept. He
hadn't
“reached” Matt Daley. No one, it seemed, could reach Matt Daley, not now. His obsession with Lisa Baring had made him unreachable.

“Matt, this is Danny. We have firm forensic evidence placing Lisa Baring's lover at the crime scene on the Anjou case. Are you hearing this? Whoever raped Irina Anjou conveniently left us a hair sample in your girlfriend's bedroom. So you were right. The killings are linked. And I was right. You're in serious danger right now. You need to get the hell away from that woman, and you need to call me back. Please, Matt. Call me.”

Danny hung up.

With a heavy heart, he dialed Inspector Liu's number.

 

M
ATT
D
ALEY HAD HORRIBLE DREAMS
. H
E
woke gripped with panic.
Where am I?

Everything seemed unfamiliar. The bed. The room. Even the smell in the air was foreign, thick and wet and heavy like a rain-soaked blanket. He sat up. Slowly, things came back to him, like distant objects emerging from a deep fog.

The Peninsula. The escape plan.

I have to get up.

He staggered to the window and opened the blinds. Daylight flooded the room. But it wasn't the pale lemon light of dawn. It was the brilliant blinding glare of midmorning. Something had gone terribly wrong. He'd slept through his alarm. But how?

His head throbbed painfully.
The whiskey…
Had he been drugged?

Spinning around, he stared at the empty bed.

Empty bed.
It hit him like a punch in the stomach.

The bed was empty.

Lisa Baring was gone.

T
HE HOTEL WAS GLORIOUS
. I
T BOASTED
a sumptuous lobby, hallways lined with red velvet carpets, a spectacular Roman-themed spa and a bedroom suite larger than most Manhattan apartments. Best of all were the views, across Sydney Harbor to the famous opera house, rising like some grand ship with sails billowing against the skyline.

Lisa had always wanted to come to Australia. But not like this.

“What's the matter?”

In linen Ralph Lauren pants and a blue silk shirt, he looked as handsome as ever. With more money to spend than he'd had before, he'd developed expensive tastes in clothes and watches that would have looked flashy on some men, but he wore them well. Then again, he wore everything well.

“Nothing. I'm tired.”
Tired of looking over my shoulder. Tired of the nightmares, the loneliness, the deceit.

Lisa was standing by the window. Walking up behind her, he started rubbing her shoulders.

“Did all that sex with Matt Daley take it out of you?”

“Stop it,” she snapped. “He's a nice man, okay? Besides, you were the one who told me to get close to him.”

It was true. He had told Lisa Baring to get close to the American, to find out what he knew. Inspector Liu was clearly stumbling around in the dark, like all the other detectives he'd dealt with. But Daley was
different. He didn't think like a cop, he thought like a human being, like somebody's son. That alone made him dangerous.

“You fell in love with him, didn't you?”

“Don't be ridiculous,” said Lisa. She didn't want to talk about Matt. Not here. Not with him. She comforted herself that at least, with her out of the picture, Matt would be safe. He'd get over her eventually. Then he could go back to L.A. and his life and pick up where he'd left off. What she wouldn't give to be able to do the same!

She turned around to face him. “Look, I've done what you asked. With Miles. With Matt Daley. I have the money, I can wire it wherever you want. But what about your side of the bargain? When can I see my sister?”

“Soon.”

“‘Soon'? Soon when? You promised!”

He grabbed her violently by the throat. Lisa whimpered in fear. How had she ever been attracted to him? Ever trusted him?

“When it's over, that's when. When all the guilty have been punished.”

The guilty. Who are the guilty? Was Miles guilty, really? Did he deserve to die? And what about the others, the men you slaughtered all those years ago? What about their poor wives?

There was a time when she'd believed that Miles
was
guilty. When she'd seen the world the way
he
saw it. But meeting Matt Daley had changed all that. It was as if Matt had woken her from a trance, brought her back to reality. But by then it was too late.

He released his grip and Lisa slumped back against the wall, tears streaming down her cheeks. When he reached for her again, she cowered in fear, but this time his touch was gentle, brushing away the tears.

“Don't cry, my angel. Just one more, I promise, and it will all be over. How would you like to go to India?”

“No!” Lisa sobbed. “Please. I can't. I won't.”

“Yes, you will…” He stroked her hair. “You need to rest first, that's all. Like you said, you're tired. But you know you'll help me in the end. We'll help each other. Remember: your sister's counting on you.”

 

D
ANNY
M
C
G
UIRE TURNED RIGHT ONTO
C
LIFFWOOD,
enjoying the sensation of the breeze on his face and the warm L.A. sunshine on his back as his open-topped rental car sped up the hill. It had been so long since he'd
driven in Los Angeles, and his last memories of the place had been so grim, he'd entirely forgotten how much he had once loved it. Brentwood especially was glorious in the sunshine, with its clean, wide suburban streets lined with blossoming trees of every size and color, its pleasant Spanish-style homes and neatly kept yards, its white picket fences and yellow school buses and smiling, healthy-looking residents.

I must bring Céline here,
he thought,
just as soon as she can stand the sight of me again.
Since Claude Demartin's breakthrough at the Chaumures Laboratory, relations had thawed not only with Inspector Liu in Hong Kong but with the French and British police forces too. Even the powers that be at the LAPD were suddenly willing to let bygones be bygones and get behind Operation Azrael. As a result, Henri Frémeaux had finally given Danny a half-decent budget, more manpower and free rein to devote the bulk of his time to the operation for the next six months. Danny was delighted, but Céline had burst into tears when he told her, especially when he announced that he was kicking things off with a monthlong trip to the States.

“So this is how it starts. A month here. Six weeks there. And what about us, Danny? What about our marriage?”

He'd done his best to explain to her. A crazed killer was on the loose. Lives were in danger. But her answer was always the same: “So let someone else save them. You can save other lives here, in Lyon, like you have been doing for the last five years. You can save
us.
” She hadn't even gone to the airport to see him off.

Making a left on Highwood, Danny pushed his marital troubles out of his mind. He was on his way to see Matt Daley at Matt's sister's house and glean what evidence he could about Lisa Baring firsthand. Lisa's disappearance was front-page news in Hong Kong and she was now openly spoken of in the Chinese media as a suspect in her husband's murder. Danny McGuire was reserving judgment. All he knew right now was that Lisa Baring was a link—
the
link—to the Azrael killer. And that Matt Daley was a link to Lisa Baring.

“You must be McGuire. I guess you'd better come in.”

Claire Michaels answered the door with a distrustful look on her face. She was blond, like her brother, and had the same open, animated features, even though at this moment they were set into a scowl.

“Thanks for letting me stop by.”

She showed him into the living room. “Matt's upstairs getting dressed. He'll be down in a minute.” She started to leave, then apparently thought
better of it. “Look,” she said to Danny, angry tears in her eyes, “this thing with the Baring woman has really taken it out of him, okay? He's not himself. Ever since he got involved with this stupid documentary, he's changed, but when he met Lisa Baring, it went to a whole new level. He's already lost his marriage, his home and now his heart. I honestly don't think he can take any more.”

“I understand, Ms. Daley.”

“Michaels. It's Mrs. Michaels,” snapped Claire. “I'm married. And I don't think you
do
understand, Mr. McGuire. Matt needs to forget all about this stupid case. He needs to rebuild his life. Why can't you just leave him the hell alone?”

It was at that moment that Matt walked in. Danny hadn't seen him in person since their meeting in Lyon last year. It was all he could do not to gasp. Stick thin, his once-merry eyes sunken in an ashen face and his blond hair graying aggressively at the temples, Matt looked like he'd aged twenty years. No wonder his sister was worried.

“Hello, Danny.” They shook hands. Despite his frail appearance, Matt looked delighted to see him.

“Hello, Matt.”

Claire's two children ran into the room, jumping up and down at Matt's heels like puppies, trying to get their uncle's attention.

Matt turned to Danny. “Let's sit out in the gazebo. I've got most of my files out there anyway and it's quieter. We won't be disturbed.”

 

F
OR THE NEXT TWO HOURS, THE
two men compared notes. Danny filled Matt in on all the latest developments at Interpol. The DNA evidence, the holes in the backgrounds of all the Azrael wives, and, most recently, the anonymous depositing of large amounts of cash into the bank accounts of two Hong Kong–based children's charities. “We don't know for sure that it was Baring's money. We're having a lot of trouble tracing the funds' origins. But given the timing and the amounts involved, it's looking likely.”

This last piece of news seemed to upset Matt immensely.

“Once the money's in, he'll have no reason to spare her. He'll kill her, just like he killed the others!” His eyes welled up with tears. “How could I have fallen asleep? Why didn't I hear something, feel something? He took her, Danny. He snatched her right from my bed. Oh Jesus.”

Danny did his best to calm Matt down. “Let's not get ahead of ourselves. First, we don't know for sure that it was Lisa's money that went to the charities. Second, we don't know for sure that the other widows are, in fact, dead. We don't have any bodies.” Matt raised an eyebrow, but Danny pressed on. “Third, you're assuming Lisa was kidnapped. But it's far more reasonable to assume that she left of her own accord.”

“No.” Matt shook his head.

“But, Matt,” Danny said reasonably, “your drink was drugged, right? That had to be her. She needed you unconscious so she could get away.”

“No!” Matt slammed his frail fist down on the coffee table. With his rational brain he knew McGuire was right. But his heart wouldn't let him believe it, or at least wouldn't let him acknowledge the truth out loud. “She loved me. She wouldn't have gone willingly.”

“I'm not saying willingly, necessarily. Maybe it was under duress. Maybe this guy has some sort of hold over her.”

Matt was staring into the middle distance. “We were going to run away together. To Morocco.”

Danny looked dumbfounded. “You were
what
?”

“Liu was trying to frame her,” muttered Matt. “We had to get away. To disappear.”

“And what about me?” said Danny. “Were you going to disappear on me too? I'm not trying to frame anybody, Matt. All I want is the truth. To find out who's been committing these savage murders, to
know
what happened to those women. What might be happening to Lisa Baring right now.”

“Don't!” Matt clamped his hands over his ears and squeezed his eyes shut, rocking back and forth like an autistic child. “I can't bear it.”

Maybe his sister's right,
thought Danny, concerned.
Maybe he really has lost it.
Then he remembered how far gone he himself had been in the dark days after Angela Jakes's disappearance. For all Céline's fears, Danny McGuire had never loved Angela Jakes the way that Matt Daley clearly loved Lisa Baring. But dark thoughts of Angela being tortured, abused or killed had still brought Danny to the brink of a nervous breakdown. Was it any wonder that Matt was so screwed up?

“It's okay,” he said quietly. “We'll find her. But we have to work together. And you have to promise me you won't do anything stupid.”

“Stupid? Like what?”

“Like taking off again. Like going to look for her yourself. The one
thing we do know is that this guy, this killer, is extremely dangerous. Leave any showdowns to the professionals, for Lisa's sake as much as your own.”

Matt put his head in his hands. “I can't just do nothing. I can't sit by while she…she…” His voice trailed off into an anguished moan.

Danny said, “I'm not asking you to do nothing. I'm asking you to help me. Help me to help her.”

“How?”

“By talking.” Danny switched on his pocket tape recorder. “Tell me about Lisa Baring, Matt. Tell me everything you know.”

 

L
ATER THAT DAY, BACK IN HIS
hotel room in Santa Monica, Danny McGuire lay on the bed, eating a big bag of Lay's potato chips and inputting everything Matt Daley had told him into the Azrael files.

Later, he'd have Richard Sturi work on the data to see where it fit into his statistical patterns. Danny had enormous admiration for Sturi, for the way the German could take raw information and give it life and meaning, like a potter fashioning a sculpture out of a lump of clay. But Danny McGuire also respected something that Richard Sturi would have dismissed as superstitious nonsense. He respected instinct. Intuition. Especially his own.

What pieces of what Matt Daley had told him today were important? Of all the minute details, what leaped out at him?

Without thinking, Danny started typing.

New York. Morocco. Sister.

He'd come to L.A. primarily to do some more hands-on digging into the whereabouts of Lyle Renalto. But today's meeting with Matt Daley had changed his mind. Lisa Baring was the key to all this. If he found out
who
Lisa was, he stood a chance of figuring out
where
she was. And if he found Lisa, Danny McGuire felt sure, he'd find the killer.

 

A
FEW MILES ACROSS TOWN
, M
ATT
Daley was also in bed, staring at a computer screen.

But it wasn't his computer. It was Lisa's.

He'd thought briefly about handing it over to McGuire this morning. Maybe Danny's crack team of Interpol experts would uncover something
that he himself had missed. But the truth was, as much as he liked the man, Matt no longer fully trusted Danny McGuire. He was a good guy and his heart was in the right place. But he wasn't convinced of Lisa's innocence. He hadn't said he suspected her in so many words. But Matt could just sense it, in his questions, his facial expressions, in all the things he didn't say.

Danny McGuire's job was to find the killer, to get a conviction. Matt Daley wanted that too, but it was no longer his primary focus. His primary focus was to save Lisa.

Since smuggling her laptop back from Asia, he'd already searched every crevice of every drive it contained, from old e-mails to photo files to Word documents, looking for something, anything, that might tell him who this man was. Lisa's lover. The one she was protecting. The one who had stolen her from him. But there was nothing. The only lead Matt had was a single vacation photograph, an amateurish shot showing Lisa hand in hand with a man. Lisa's face suggested that the photo was relatively recent, a year or two old perhaps but no more. She was just as Matt pictured her every night in his dreams. But the man's face was obscured by a dazzling light. Very bright sunshine, perhaps, or a reflected camera flash. Both of them were dressed in shorts and T-shirts, and standing in front of an aged stone harbor wall.