Authors: Catherine McGreevy
Tags: #mystery, #automobile accident, #pirates of penzance, #jewelry, #conductor, #heirloom, #opera, #recuperate, #treasure, #small town, #gilbert and sullivan, #paranormal, #romance, #holocaust survivor, #soprano, #adventure, #colorful characters, #northern california, #romantic suspense, #mystery suspense
Kevin was matter-of-fact. "Yeah. But he could have been the one who cut the brakes." He paused. "Anyway, after you and Mr. Henderson left, I crawled up to the road and tried to flag down a car, but no one came. My cell got ruined in the river, so I couldn't call for help. Then I got to your house and rang your doorbell, but the lights were out, and I figured out you hadn't got home yet. By then, my ankle was hurting pretty bad. I knew I couldn't walk all the way back up the hill to town, so I decided to sneak into my own house to make the call." He cleared his throat. "Then I saw Steve's Audi parked in the driveway."
And that's why he decided to hide here, in the winery, until Steve went to sleep. Just as she had, Paisley thought. Their paths had brought them to the same place.
Kevin yawned. The adventure was taking its toll on his healthy young body. As he fell into a fitful doze, she pondered their fix. Ian was lying among the grape vines in need of medical attention with Ray scrambling about, wielding a pistol. She and Kevin were stuck here, unable to help, yards away from a man who intended to kill them both. The only glimmer of hope was that she knew where the jewels were, but that thought wasn't very reassuring. Ray knew he could get that information out of her easily. All he had to do was threaten Ian or Steve. Then he would probably kill them all anyway.
It was hard to believe a man would be willing to annihilate a fellow human being over a few lumps of colored rock and yellow metal, but then, Ray had killed before. Perhaps he was one of those few sick-souled men who couldn't distinguish between killing an enemy combatant in the heat of battle and killing for personal gain. Hadn't he admitted to being sent home for … what was it? unnecessary violence against civilians?
Now that Paisley felt rested, she began planning again. She could leave Kevin here while she ran to her own house and called for help. Perhaps she could....
Distracted, this time she failed to hear the footsteps in the gravel. By the time the door began to swing open, Kevin had wriggled into an opening between the barrels like an eel disappearing into a crevice in a coral reef. Slower to react, Paisley was still sitting cross-legged on the floor when the overhead lights turned on, blinding her.
Steve stood looking down at her, breathing heavily. His soaking-wet cotton shirt clung to his chest like plastic wrap. His black hair fell in wet strands across his forehead, and his brown eyes were flat and muddy, like coffee dregs. The fresh mud on his formerly polished Bruno Magli boots showed evidence of a long tramp along the river banks.
"You're here," he said stupidly. "Ray said you got away."
She raised her chin, trying to sound self-confident. "How did you know I was in the winery?"
He shook his head as if to clear it. "I saw muddy footprints on the porch steps. They didn't track into the house, so I figured I'd check in here.
She looked down at her feet. One was shod, one was bare. Both were covered with dirt, grass stains and blood. Thank goodness Steve had only seen one set of footprints, she thought. At least he didn't know Kevin was here....
With as much dignity as she could, she stood. Better to meet her executioner standing. Hopefully the fact that he had said nothing about Ian meant they had not found him.
"Okay, fine, you win," she said, tossing her hair carelessly. "Take the jewels, they're yours and Ray's. Sell them for whatever you can get for them." She fumbled to pull off the ruby ring. This time, perversely, it came off with a single tug. She held it out on her palm. “I'll tell you where the rest of them are if you'll just let me go.” Paisley prevented herself, barely, from saying "us." "I'll leave on the next plane and you'll never hear from me again."
Steve didn't move. He was staring at her like a statue, while his chest heaved up and down. It was, she noted, a smoothly muscled chest, under the clinging shirt. "I don't want any of it," he said after a moment.
"What?" Her voice unintentionally went up to a soprano register. “You don’t want the jewels?”
"I never intended it to go this far. He told me that if we found them first, you'd never even know, no one would be hurt." He took a deep breath, like a ragged sob, and stumbled toward her, sweeping her into a clumsy embrace. "He lied,” he said against her hair. “He lied about everything. Paisley, I couldn't find Kevin. I've been looking everywhere for the past two hours. I'm so afraid...."
"My God, Stephen, what are you doing?" The deep voice, dripping with contempt, came from behind them, causing them both to jump. They swiveled, still in each other’s arms, staring at the husky figure that aimed an unwavering pistol at each of them in turn. Paisley cursed herself. Ray kept turning up, like the character in
Halloween
. Ian was right, the burly former soldier had been armed after all, and they had failed to find the weapon. If only she had searched a bit more carefully…. But she hadn’t been strong enough to shift him, and both she and Ian had been anxious to put as much distance between themselves and Ray as possible.
"Get back from the girl, Steve, you fool, you're in my way," Ray growled.
Steve released Paisley but did not move. His handsome face flushed dark red under the tan and streaks of dirt. "You never said you were going to kill anyone, Ray. You said the fire would give off a little smoke, that's all, just enough to scare her off. But none of it was true. That mast could have crushed her, too. Or Kevin. And you never told me you planned to cut the brakes.... You had no right!"
"You weakling, Steve." Ray's voice dripped contempt. "I had to get her to turn the jewels over to me tonight, or she would have left with them in the morning. What was that saying we learned in Mrs. Olsen’s French class? You can't make an omelet without cracking
les oeufs
."
Steve took an angry step toward Ray. "I don't care about the jewels any more. I looked all over for Kevin, and there’s not a trace of him. If not for you, I'd have called for helicopters, for a search team, had the whole town out there, searching. But no. Because if they found the brakes were cut...."
"They'd start investigating and eventually find out that you were involved in all the accidents surrounding Paisley this summer?" Ray sneered. "You
are
a coward. The accident involved a teenager, inexperienced driver, late at night, taking that curve a little too fast.... Most likely, the cops probably wouldn't even have checked the brakes. Not the idiots around here, anyway."
Ray grabbed the ruby ring from Paisley's palm and shoved it into his pants pocket with less care than she would have expected from someone who had gone to so much trouble to get it. His eyes glittered, and his full lips were smiling, as if he were relishing the excitement. He directed his attention to her. "Okay, lady, rewind to where we left off an hour ago, before you broke my favorite coffee cup over my head: where are the other jewels? I know you didn’t climb back up that oak tree, and I’ve searched your house, so you must have hid them after you left the property."
“
Brilliant deduction. Come on, I'll show you where they are." She moved toward the winery door, feeling a sensation of relief. Anything to get him
—
both of them
—
away before a sound, a movement, gave away Kevin’s hiding place. And before daylight broke, revealing Ian still lying helpless among the vines. “They’re not around here,” she continued. “We'll have to drive." She couldn't help adding, "You really don't think you can get away with this, do you? By now there are too many witnesses. You can't kill all of us.”
Ray fell back to allow her to precede him, the cold muzzle of the gun pressing between her shoulder blades. “By tomorrow I can be out of the country." He sounded relaxed. "Plenty of places in the world a guy can live comfortably on a couple of million dollars. Belize, Costa Rica…. All right, then, where are they?”
A squeaking sound came from behind them. Paisley's heart sank as her head swiveled, along with Ray's and Steve's. Kevin tottered behind Ray on his bad ankle, a bottle of Merlot raised high in both hands, as if he were about to christen a ship. His face was white. “They're not yours,” he said grimly. “They belong by rights to my family. Now let Paisley go.”
Ray's mouth curled with contempt as he took a step toward Kevin, but Steve moved to block his burly partner. "No, Ray, this has already gone too far. If...."
He never completed his sentence. With a snarl, Ray shouted, "Get out of my way!" At the same instant a deafening explosion erupted from the pistol in his hand, and Steve slid to the floor like a bag of cement.
Screaming at the top of her lungs, Paisley leaped forward and snatched the still smoking pistol out of Ray's grip, sending it spinning into a shadowy corner of the room. He had not expected the move. He turned and struck her in the jaw like a bear swatting a fly, causing her to lose her balance and fall backward. Her head hit the wall with a painful
thunk
, and the room spun.
At least she had succeeded in causing Ray to turn his back on Kevin. The teenager took advantage of the older man’s distraction by leaping forward and breaking the bottle of Merlot over his head. Glass shattered, and liquid ran like blood down Ray's bull-like neck.
Swearing, the older man turned on Kevin. Paisley saw fear on the face of the boy, far slighter than his opponent. As they grappled, Ray backed against one of the heavy wooden barrels, knocking it out of alignment. As it slipped, others became unbalanced, and with a low rumble, like falling dominoes, the heavy containers tipped and rolled into the aisle. One of them brushed against Paisley's bad shoulder, and she let loose another full-throated scream, this one of pain.
"Shut up!" Separated by the rolling barrels, Ray took a step back and put his hands over his ears, glaring at her. "Shut up, damn you!"
It was too late. It seemed like the entire world was caving in on them in deafening cacophony. Then, as the chaos slowed, through a blur of pain, Paisley spotted a glint of metal in a corner of the room. She dove for the pistol. Ray saw it at the same time. They reached it simultaneously, their hands closing together on the grip, but her strength was no match for Ray's. He easily elbowed her away and whirled to train the pistol on Kevin, then turned it back on her, as if trying to decide whom to shoot first.
It was a surreal moment, as the last few barrels bounced and rolled to a stop. The din ended, and there was a moment’s respite of quiet, like the eye in the middle of a storm.
She saw Kevin cowering in a corner. Steve’s body lay crushed under one of the heavy barrels. Wine poured from its broken staves, flooding the previously immaculate concrete floor, its strong odor filling the air.
Paisley dropped back, the floor sticky under her bare, bruised foot. "Give up, Ray." She tried with difficulty to keep her voice steady. “It’s over.”
"Over?" Broken glass glittered like diamonds in his rumpled hair and red wine trickled down his broad face, giving him a crazed look like Carrie in the scene from the Steven King movie --
minus the prom dress, of course. Another surreal touch.
"It won't work," she repeated, raising her voice. "How many people are you willing to kill? I told you, there are too many witnesses by now. And believe me, if you harm a hair on my head, Ian will not stop until the police catch you."
She saw a series of emotions cross Ray's face. Once again, he swung the pistol from her to Kevin, as if trying to make up his mind what to do. Then he turned and took in Steve’s crumpled body. An odd expression crossed his face.
"Will someone tell me what the bloody hell is going on in here?" A loud voice barked from the doorway. Everyone froze.
Paisley’s eyes shifted to the door, her heart lifting. “Officer Smith!" she breathed.
Behind the policeman’s stunned figure crowded a group of more dark-blue uniforms, all brandishing drawn guns. The colorful beams of a police car's light bar pulsed in the background. In the center of it all stood Ian, looking slightly worse for wear with his battered jaw and tousled hair, his eyes wide as he took in the scene.
She had briefly forgotten Ray. Still holding the pistol, he pointed the barrel again, first on her, then on Ian, then on Kevin. Last, in disgust, he held it against his temple and fired.
Chapter Eighteen
"It was the scream that did it," said Officer Smith, slamming the back door of the police cruiser and getting behind the wheel. "My Irish grandma woulda sworn it was a banshee. Sent chills up my spine. Never heard anything like it in my life. Carried clear across the fields. Then, when we got closer there was a whole lot of clattering and banging, like an earthquake. We thought the whole place was falling down."
"Oh, that scream? That was nothing," Ian said, ignoring Paisley's blush as he put an arm around her shoulder. "You should hear her sing
Carmen
after getting out of the shower. If you're talking about sheer volume...!"
#
On the way to the hospital in Davis, Ian explained to Paisley what had happened after leaving him in the field. He had managed to drag himself back to the Explorer, somehow missing Ray, who was blundering around the field looking for them. Using the keys Paisley had left in the trunk lock, Ian drove straight to the police station. While he was guiding them back to where he had last seen Paisley, the group heard her scream and rushed to help, finding the lurid scene in the winery.