The Face of Deception (22 page)

She tried to smile. “There's nothing subtle about you, Gary.”

“Perhaps not, but I'm effective.” He paused at the door. “You stay here. You have no car and I won't let you in my Volvo.”

“I'd feel better going with you.”

“Since I'm in control of the transport, I get my way. I'll see you for dinner. Come to my room at eight. I saw a menu flyer from Bubba Blue's Barbecue.” He shook his head. “What a name. Thank God they deliver. I have a vision of sawdust on the floor, a rattlesnake in a glass case, and a moaning country singer. I shudder at the chance we're taking.”

The door closed behind him.

She was shuddering too, but for a different reason. She closed her eyes, but she could still see Lisa Chadbourne's face as she looked up at Detwil. The loyal wife protecting her husband in his hour of need.

But it was Logan who was in need. Logan and Gil who were on the run.

Where the hell were they?

“Sweet Jesus,” Sandra murmured, her gaze on the television screen. “What's happening to her, Margaret?”

“Nothing. They haven't been caught and they won't be. John's too smart to let that happen. This is just upsetting you.” Margaret turned off the set. “Hell, it's upsetting me too.”

“Why hasn't she called me?”

“She called you yesterday.”

“But she must know I'd see— What should we do?”

“What we're doing. Sit tight until John gets everything straightened out.”

“Yeah, sure.” She nibbled at her lower lip. “Maybe we should do something.”

“Like what?”

“I have a friend in the D.A.'s office.”

“No,” Margaret said sharply, then she tempered her tone. “He couldn't help and he'd lead anyone interested right to us.”

“Maybe not. Ron would be careful.”

“Sandra, no.”

“I can't just sit here.” She looked Margaret in the eye. “I know you think I'm some kind of lightweight, but I've been around the block a couple of times. Give me a chance to do something.”

“I don't think you're a lightweight,” Margaret said gently. “I think you're smart and kind and under normal conditions you'd be taking care of me. These aren't normal conditions. Just be patient, okay?”

Sandra shook her head.

“Okay, then try to get your mind off it. How about a game of blackjack?”

“Again? You always beat me. You must spend half your time in Las Vegas.”

“Well . . .” Margaret grinned. “One of my brothers
is
a dealer.”

“I knew it.”

“Okay, no blackjack. I'll make the supreme sacrifice and let you cook me another one of those wonderful meals. You do realize I'm going to be a blimp before we get out of here.”

“I'm a lousy cook, and you know it. Stop trying to distract me.”

“Well, the casserole last night was better than the chili for lunch. Maybe you're getting better.”

“And maybe cows can fly.” She might as well go along with her, Sandra thought resignedly. Margaret could be relentless, and besides, cooking did keep her occupied. She rose to her feet. “I'll make a pot roast. But you have to make the salad and do the dishes.”

“I'm just a drudge,” Margaret groaned. “Okay, let's get at it.”

Third time lucky.

Fiske watched the two women bustling around the kitchen. The scent of meat and peppers drifted to him and reminded him he hadn't had breakfast that morning. The smell evidently had attracted Pilton too, because he had come in from the porch and was standing in the kitchen, talking to Margaret Wilson.

Fiske backed away from the window into the shrubbery and set off through the woods. He reached his car, which was parked in the driveway of an empty rental cottage. Now that Sandra Duncan had been located, he could call and pacify Timwick. Then he'd contact Lisa Chadbourne and tell her of his progress. Though from what he'd seen on the news that morning, she'd been a little too busy to worry about Sandra Duncan.

Too bad about Scott Maren. The doctor had been on the list Timwick had given him and he felt a little cheated that the job had been given to someone else.

He opened the glove box, took out the list, and drew a line through Maren's name. He couldn't take credit, but he could keep the list accurate.

He had another name to add to the list. He carefully wrote in the name Joe Quinn. Kessler's assistant had been very helpful last night.

He took out the pictures of Quinn and Kessler that Timwick had faxed him and studied them. Kessler was old and would probably pose no challenge, but Quinn was young, fit, and a cop. He might prove interesting.

He glanced down at the road atlas open on the passenger seat. Kessler's assistant had known nothing about Kessler's recent activities but he knew his pattern, his methods, his friends, his modus operandi.

He knew about the work done by Chris Teller's research center in Bainbridge.

So now Lisa Chadbourne had a choice of targets.

“How did I do?” Kevin asked. “Was the statement right? Do you think I should have told Douglas to be a little more stern?”

“You were great,” Lisa said patiently. “The statement to the media was just right. You made yourself seem regretful and Logan appear dangerous enough for us to have a reason to go after him.”

“Self-defense.” He nodded. “It should work.”

“It will work.” She handed him the paper she'd just printed out. “You need to memorize this. I want you to sound completely extemporaneous.”

“What is it?”

“The eulogy you're giving for Scott Maren.”

He glanced over the text. “Touching.”

“A little tearing wouldn't be remiss. He was one of Ben's best friends.”

“And yours.” Kevin was staring down at the speech and his next words came haltingly, “Wasn't he?”

She tensed. She didn't like his tone. She'd become accustomed to taking Kevin's willful blindness for granted. “Yes, he was my good friend. He did a great deal for me . . . and for you.”

“Yes.” He didn't look up from the speech. “It's strange. The accident, I mean.”

“He always insisted on driving that little Corvette. Everyone told him that he should switch to a bigger car.”

“No, I mean right now.”

“What are you trying to say, Kevin?” She took the speech away from him. “Look at me.”

He flushed. “I'm confused. Everything's happening too fast. First, this business with Logan and now Scott dying.”

“Do you think I had anything to do with Scott's death?” She let tears fill her eyes. “How could you? He was our friend. He was helping us.”

“I didn't say that,” he said quickly.

“You might just as well have said it.”

“No, I didn't mean—” He gazed at her helplessly. “Don't cry. You never cry.”

“You've never accused me of— Do you think I'm some kind of monster? You know why Ben died. Do you think I'd ever do that again?”

“With Logan.”

“To save you. Logan should never have interfered with what you're doing.”

He reached out and awkwardly touched her shoulder. “Forget it. I didn't mean—”

“I can't forget it.” She stepped back and thrust the speech at him. “Go on to your office and learn that eulogy. And, while you're at it, decide whether I could have written those words about Scott if I'd ever meant harm to him.”

“I know you didn't— I just wondered why it happened.”

She turned her back on him and walked over to the window.

She could feel his gaze on her and then heard the sound of the door closing behind him.

Thank God. She didn't think she could have held on another minute. The entire night and morning had been a nightmare.

Damn him. Damn him. Damn him.

Tears were still running down her cheeks as she reached for her phone and dialed Timwick.

“Why?” she asked hoarsely. “Damn you, why?”

“Maren was a threat. He's always been a threat. I told you he needed to be eliminated when Logan started probing.”

“And I told you not to do it. Scott was never a threat. He helped us.”

“He was a loose thread, Lisa. And Logan was too close to unraveling him. You were too soft to do it, so I did it myself.”

She closed her eyes. “He would never have betrayed me.”

“You're not the only one in this.” She could hear the panic in his voice. “I couldn't take the chance.” He changed the subject. “The press conference went well. It gives us the firepower we need. We found the speedboat. But we haven't gotten a lead on Price and Logan yet. I'll keep you informed.” He hung up.

He had dismissed the killing of Scott as if it were unimportant.

Just another death . . .

How many more? she wondered. How much more blood . . .

She sank down in her desk chair and covered her eyes.

Oh, God, Scott, forgive me. I never thought— I can't seem to stop it now. It goes on and on and I have to go with it.

Think. Was there any way out? She had to have the skull. The scenario she had set up gave Timwick the ability to make sure Logan could be killed on sight.

More killing. And after him, Fiske's list would kick in and the deaths would go on.

She couldn't stand it.

A deal?

No, Logan was a stubborn man and would not give up even if sense and practicality told him that he should. Men were always too—

But Eve Duncan knew where the skull was and she had no male ego to stop her from thinking clearly. Duncan was a clever woman who would recognize that all their options were gradually disappearing.

Lisa straightened and wiped her eyes. She turned and switched on the computer.

Eve Duncan.

NINETEEN

The phone rang.

Logan?

Eve snatched her phone from the table where she'd put it in readiness. “Hello.”

“Hello, Eve. I hope you don't mind my calling you by your given name. Please do the same. I believe events have established a certain intimacy between us.”

Eve straightened in shock.

“You do know who this is?”

“Lisa Chadbourne.”

“You recognize my voice. Good.”

“How did you get my number?”

“I've had it since the first dossier on you was given to me. It didn't seem prudent to contact you under the circumstances.”

“Since you were trying to kill me?”

“Please believe I never meant to harm you until you interfered. You should never have accepted Logan's offer.” She paused. “And you should never have permitted Logan to try to persuade Scott to betray me.”

“I don't control Logan. Nobody does.”

“You should have tried. You're intelligent and you're strong. All it would have taken was a little effort. Maybe all this could have been—” She stopped to steady her voice. “I didn't mean to get emotional on you. I don't expect you to understand, but it's been a bad day for me.”

“I don't understand.” The shock had dissipated a little and the sheer outlandishness of the conversation hit Eve abruptly. “And I don't care.”

“Of course you don't care.” She paused. “But it's necessary that you try to understand. I have to see it through. It's like being on a roller coaster. You can't get off until you reach the end. I've fought too hard, I've given up too much. I can't lose all I've gained.”

“Through murder.”

Silence. “I want it to end. Let me find a way to end it, Eve.”

“Why did you call me?”

“Is Logan there?”

Relief rushed over her. If Lisa didn't know where Logan was, it meant that he and Gil could be safe. “Not right now.”

“Good. He'd get in the way. For a brilliant man, he's not at all reasonable. You're not like him. You can see the advantages of compromise.” She paused. “As you did when you begged them not to execute Fraser.”

Eve's hand tightened on the phone. She hadn't expected her to touch that wound.

“Eve?”

“I'm here.”

“You wanted Fraser to die, but you wanted something else more. You were reasonable enough to deal for what you wanted.”

“I don't want to talk about Fraser.”

“I can see why you don't want to remember him. I mentioned him only because you have to be reasonable now.”

“What do you want from me?”

“The skull and any other evidence you and Logan have gathered.”

“And what do I get for handing over those things to you?”

“The same deal you offered Scott. You disappear and turn up somewhere with enough money to keep you for the rest of your life.”

“And what about Logan?”

“I'm sorry, it's too late for Logan. We had to act publicly to make sure he's no threat to us. You can just fade away, but I can't call off the hunt for Logan. He's on his own.”

“And my mother?”

“You can take her with you. Can we deal?”

“No.”

“Why? What else do you want?”

“I want my life back. I don't want to spend the next fifty years hiding out for something I didn't do. I don't consider that option viable.”

“It's all I can offer. I can't have you here. It's too dangerous for me.” For the first time, Eve could hear an edge of steel to Lisa Chadbourne's voice, and something else—panic. “Give me that skull, Eve.”

“No.”

“I'll find it anyway. It will just be easier if you give it to me.”

“Even if you find it you're afraid the truth will come to light in an awkward and public manner. That's the only reason you're offering me a deal.”

“God, no.” Both the hardness and fear were gone from her voice now. It reflected only weariness and sadness. “You refuse?”

“I've told you that.”

“Would it be so bad to let me stay in the White House? Look what I've done through Kevin. The new bill to save Medicare. Tougher laws on animal and child abuse. There's a good chance I can get the National Health Bill passed before the election. Do you know what a miracle that is when we don't control Congress?” Her voice hardened with desperation. “But I've only started. There's so much more that I've planned for next term. Let me do it, Eve.”

“And seize immortality for yourself? I don't regard murder as a permissible method for pushing bills through Congress.”

“Please. Reconsider.”

“No deal.”

Silence. “I'm sorry. I wanted to make it easy for you. No, that's not true. I wanted to make it easier for me. I wanted it to stop.” Lisa cleared the thickness from her voice. “You've misjudged your position, Eve. It's not as strong as you think, and there are always two sides of a coin. I hope I'll be able to give you another chance later, but I doubt it. I'll have to move forward. You will remember it was your choice?” She hung up.

Eve had thought she had grasped the woman's personality and motivations, but she hadn't gone deep enough. She wondered if anyone could go deep enough with Lisa Chadbourne. She had been thinking about her as a ruthless monster like Fraser, but the woman she had just spoken to was very human.

But not vulnerable. She might not be a monster, but her determination would never waver.

Eve's hand was shaking as she put down the phone on the table. Christ, she was scared. She had believed she had a slight advantage because she had studied and felt she knew Lisa Chadbourne.

The advantage was gone. Not only did she not know Lisa Chadbourne, but the woman had also been studying her. Lisa Chadbourne also knew Eve.

Two sides of a coin.

Bribery on one side. Death on the other. It couldn't be clearer. She had refused Lisa's offer and now she had to face the consequences.

Why the hell couldn't she stop shaking? It was as if Lisa had been in the room with her and—

A knock on the door.

Her gaze flew across the room.

Don't answer the door, Logan had said.

Two sides of a coin.

For God's sake, Lisa Chadbourne wasn't some supernatural being who had transported herself to this motel. Eve rose to her feet and strode to the door. And assassins didn't knock politely.

The second knock wasn't polite though. It was hard, impatient, and demanding.

“Who is it?”

“Logan.”

She gave a quick glance through the peephole. Thank God. She unfastened the chain bolt and unlocked the door.

Logan strode into the room. “Pack your clothes. You're getting out of here.”

“Where have you been?”

“On my way here.” He opened her closet, took out her bag, blazer, and windbreaker and threw them on the bed. “I took a taxi to Baltimore-Washington airport, rented a car, and drove here.”

“Why didn't you call me?”

He didn't answer.

“Dammit, why didn't you call me? Didn't you know I'd be worried?”

“I didn't want to talk to—” He unzipped her bag. “Will you pack? I want you out of here.”

“The DNA profile isn't done yet. Gary found out the lab could escalate the process, but Joe hasn't come with the comparison samples and Gary says it won't—”

“I don't give a damn,” he said harshly. “You're out of it.”

“That's going to be hard to do. Did you hear about Abdul Jamal?”

“On the radio coming down.”

She watched him take an armful of underthings out of the bureau drawer and drop them into the bag. His clothes were rumpled and grass-stained and there was a scratch on his forearm. “I'm not going anywhere until you talk to me.”

“Then I'll pack for you and dump you in the car with the rest of the luggage.”

“Stop mishandling my property and look at me, dammit.”

He slowly turned to look at her.

She stiffened when she saw his face. “Jesus,” she whispered. “What happened, Logan?”

“Gil's dead.” His movement was jerky, uncoordinated, as he flung more clothes from a drawer onto the bed. “Shot. I don't think they even meant to kill him. They were just firing warning shots. But now he's dead.” He threw clothes into the duffel. “I left him in a boathouse near the river. I'm sure you won't approve, considering how you feel. No home for Gil. I just left him and took off running.”

“Gil,” she repeated numbly.

“He was born near Mobile. I think he has a brother. Maybe later we can—”

“Shut up.” She grabbed his arms. “Shut up, Logan.”

“He was joking before it happened. He said he was safe because he'd taken his bullet for the month. He was wrong. He wasn't safe. He didn't know what hit him. He just—”

“I'm sorry. God, I'm so sorry.” Without thinking she stepped closer and wrapped her arms around him. His body felt stiff and unrelenting, his muscles locked against her. “I know he was your friend.”

“That's more than I know. If he was my friend, would I have let him run the risks he did?”

“You tried to persuade him not to meet with Maren. We both tried. He wouldn't listen.”

“I could have stopped him. But I knew there was a chance he was right about Maren. I could have knocked him on the head or gone by myself. I didn't have to let him go.”

Dear heaven, he was hurting and she couldn't reach him. “It wasn't your fault. It was Gil's decision. You couldn't know that—”

“Bullshit.” He pushed her away. “Finish packing. I'm getting you out of here.”

“And where am I supposed to be going?”

“Anywhere away from here. I'll put you on a boat to Timbuktu.”

“No.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Not now. You're too upset to be reasonable. We need to talk about this.”

“Pack. There's nothing to talk about.”

“We're going to talk. Let's get out of here.” She headed for the door. The emotion in the room was so thick, she felt as if she was suffocating. And, it would be better if she could get him away from that damn packing he was obsessing about. “I've been cooped up in here all day. Take me for a drive.”

“I'm not going—”

“Yes, you are.” She grabbed Ben's case, threw open the door, and glanced over her shoulder. “Which car?”

He was silent.

“Which car, Logan?”

“The beige Taurus.”

She moved toward the car parked across the lot. He reached it before she did. She waited for him to unlock the door.

His lips curved in a sardonic smile as he reached for Ben's case. “And everywhere that Eve goes, the skull is sure to follow,” he murmured, then put the case in the backseat. “But then I told you to never leave it alone, didn't I? Even though it makes you an automatic target.”

“Do you think I'd pay any attention to what you said if I didn't think it was the right thing to do? Not likely, Logan.”

As soon as they got into the car, she said, “Drive.”

“Where?”

“I don't care.” She leaned back in the seat. “As long as it's nowhere you can put me on a boat to Timbuktu.”

“I'm not going to change my mind.”

“And I'm not going to try to argue with you when you've probably been planning this all the way from Washington. Just drive.”

He drove. He didn't speak for the next thirty minutes. “May I go back now?”

“No.” His body was still rigid with tension. How the hell could she break through to him? Shock? She could tell him about Lisa Chadbourne's call. Definitely not. That would only reinforce his determination. Give him some more time.

Lisa stared down at the phone.

Pick it up. Make the call. You've waited too long already.

No deal, Eve Duncan had said.

All right, accept it.

It had to go on.

Do what you have to do.

Lisa picked up the phone.

It was over an hour later and the rays of the sun were casting long shadows when Logan pulled off the highway into a dirt lay-by. “I'm not going any farther. Get it over with.”

“Will you listen to me?” Eve asked.

“I'm listening.”

And stubbornly determined not to hear. Or maybe not stubborn, she thought wearily. Maybe he was afraid to hear.

It was odd to think of confident and decisive Logan as being afraid. “Remember what you told me? Do the best you can and then go on? You're full of hot air, Logan.”

“So I don't practice what I preach.”

“You're not responsible for Gil's death. He was a grown man and he made his own decision. You even tried to talk him out of it.”

“We've already gone over this.”

“And you're not responsible for me. I'd have to yield you that right, and I won't do that. I'm the only one who guides my life. So don't give me that bullshit about putting me on a boat and sending me to Outer Mongolia.”

“Timbuktu.”

“Wherever. I'm not going anywhere. I've gone through too much. I've too much invested in my life to throw it away. Do you understand?”

He didn't look at her. “I understand.”

“Then I guess we can go back to the motel.”

He started the car. “But it doesn't make any difference. I warn you, I'll find a way to get you on that boat.”

She shook her head. “I get seasick. I remember when we came back on the ferry from Cumberland Island, I was sick as a dog.”

“I'm surprised you noticed.”

“I didn't understand it either. I felt as if my life had ended and it didn't seem fair that my body was punishing me too.”

“But Quinn took care of you.”

“Yes, Joe always takes care of me.”

“Have you heard from him?”

“Last night. He's found a letter that's almost certain to contain Chadbourne's saliva, but he's having trouble getting the sample from Millicent Babcock. He was going to follow her and her husband to the country club and try to swipe a drink glass.”

“Your stalwart policeman is going to steal?”

Talking was helping him. The muscles on Logan's forearms were a little less rigid.

“That's not like stealing.” She decided not to confide the fact that Joe had gotten the letter through dubious means.

“Did you ever read
Les Misérables
?”

“Yes, and I can see Joe stealing bread to feed a hungry child.”

He smiled lopsidedly. “Your hero.”

“My friend,” she corrected him.