At Risk (23 page)

Lorraine fled the office.

Russell pushed the door shut behind her. His complexion had gone from ashen to puce. “Sit down, Liz.” It was more of an order than a request. “There’s no need to make a scene.”

“Oh, there’s need. You’re lucky you’re not being arrested for fraud. Of all the sneaky, underhanded tricks! I expect deceit out of you, but how dare you take out a million-dollar policy on my life without my consent?”

“Ah . . . you’re overreacting. It’s not what it appears,” Russell said, obviously stalling while he concocted an excuse. His gaze darted around the room, almost as if he were expecting a SWAT team to burst through the skylight.

Something was very wrong. She’d expected lies, but not hostility. Or was it desperation?

“You’re a bastard,” she said. “A deceitful, conniving lowlife. But I never thought . . . Were you planning on killing me for the insurance?” She folded her arms over her chest as impossible thoughts clouded her reason. “You wouldn’t have the guts to try it yourself,” she said. “Did you hire someone to do your dirty work?”

“I wanted to protect Katie.”

“From what?”

“A girl was murdered in your office. It could have been you. And then where would Katie be?”

“You expect me to believe that? Stop lying to me. I want the truth, Russell.”

“Don’t go to the police.”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

Moisture glistened in Russell’s eyes. “I came to you for help. I begged you, but you wouldn’t listen. I’m in trouble, Liz; big trouble.”

“Maybe you should be the one going to the police. You’re in debt because of your gambling, aren’t you? Admit it.”

“You have no idea what the last few weeks have been like for me. I’ve been threatened.”

“Does Danielle know?”

“Don’t drag her into this.” His voice thickened. “I didn’t know what to do.”

“So you decided to kill me to get the money?”

“I wasn’t thinking straight. I panicked. But I never could have gone through with it. You’re the mother of my oldest child. I’m not a violent person. Whatever you think—”

“Did you have anything to do with Tracy Fleming’s death?”

He shook his head. Tears coursed down his cheeks. “What do you think I am?”

“I think you’re a pitiful excuse for a man. Stay away from me. And from Katie.”

“Liz. For God’s sake . . .”

“Leave Him out of this.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Find a rock and crawl under it. Or go to the authorities and ask for protection. You have to do something. Danielle isn’t to blame. And she has young children.”

“If you’d just sign for the loan, I can—”

“Go to hell, Russell.” She opened the door and glared back at him. “If you come near me or Katie, if you try to involve us in your schemes, you’ll wish that all you had to worry about were loan sharks.”

Liz’s phone was ringing when she unlocked the farmhouse door and entered the kitchen. She snatched up the receiver.

“Moms? Moms, this is me.” Katie’s voice was high, bordering on hysterical.

“Katie? What’s wrong?”

“Dad’s in terrible trouble. You’ve got to help him. He says his life’s in danger.”

“I know. I just left him. Did he call you?”

“Yes, about half an hour ago. I’m scared, Moms. Can I come home?”

“No. You stay where you are.”

“You’ve got to help him. He said he begged you, but you wouldn’t—”

“You know how he is, Katie. You know that he’s addicted to gambling. I can’t fix that.”

“I can get a flight home tonight.”

“Don’t even think about it. I’m serious. Stay there and finish out the term.”

“But Daddy—”

“I can’t help him, Katie. This time he has to solve his own problems.”

“You’re still blaming him. It’s a sickness. He can’t help it. All he needs is a little help to—”

“I can’t. We can’t. Your father got himself into this mess, and he—”

“You think more about money than Dad’s life? How can you be so spiteful? Just because he’s happy with Danielle and the—”

“Is that what he told you?”

“He never wanted the divorce. It was you who wanted out. You who wanted a career instead of—”

“We aren’t having this conversation,” Liz said. “He’s your father, and you love him. That’s all he is to me, Katie—your father. He’s cost me too much over the years. I won’t put up another penny to—”

“I’ll never forgive you if something happens to him.”

“Katie, don’t—”

“You’re right, we’re not having this conversation. I can’t talk to you when you get like this. Good-bye, Mother.”

Liz heard the loud click of the receiver being slammed down and then silence. She stared at the phone, wondering if she should call back, and then decided against it. Katie’s temper was too much like her own. It would take a day or two before her daughter would be willing to listen to reason.

Heidi nosed against Liz’s ankle. “What’s wrong, girl?” Liz asked. She dropped to her knees and embraced the dog. “What else could go wrong?”

The German shepherd wiggled free and regarded Liz with a hopeful expression. Liz nodded, stood, and went to the cookie jar on top of the refrigerator where she kept a supply of dog biscuits. “Is this what you want?” she asked. “Treat?”

Heidi’s dark eyes lit with anticipation.

“Sit,” Liz told her. When the dog obeyed, Liz offered the snack. Heidi took it gently from her fingers. “Good girl,” Liz said. “Good dog.” She patted the animal’s head. “You miss Michael and Otto, don’t you?” Maybe she should return the dog. With Wayne dead and Russell’s double-dealings exposed, there wasn’t really any reason to keep Heidi any longer.

She wondered if Russell had been trying to frighten her. He knew about Buck Juney; at least, he knew that the hermit had disturbed her dreams for years. And Russell certainly was familiar with the house. Could he still have a key to the front door? She’d changed all the other locks but that one. But, if it was Russell, what reason would he have for wanting to frighten her?

Of course, Russell wasn’t the only person who knew about Buck Juney. Jack knew, and she’d told Michael. She nibbled at her lower lip. Until today, she’d been certain that Cameron was stalking her—that he’d been the one who’d left the boat at her dock and tracked mud through her kitchen. But what if he wasn’t? What if it was Jack? Had great sex made her blind to his faults? She’d known him once, or thought she had. But how much did she really know about Jack now? And what was she going to do about Russell? Should she bring charges against him?

She picked up the phone and tried Katie’s apartment. No answer. Either she had gone out or she didn’t want to talk to her again. Katie’s response hurt, but they would come to an understanding in a few days. Katie was still young enough to believe that her mother was usually wrong. And Russell, the absent father with the silver tongue, remained the misunderstood victim.

For now, Liz’s biggest worry was Russell. Maybe she should report his attempt to take out the policy on her life to the police. She didn’t really want to see Russell go to jail, but neither did she want to see some bookie break his legs. Should she call the detective investigating Tracy’s murder?

“My dealings with the long arm of the law have not exactly been successful,” Liz said to Heidi.

She needed advice from someone she could trust. But who? Amelia would insist that she prosecute Russell to the fullest, or think Liz was the worst kind of fool if she didn’t. As much as she respected Amelia and Sydney, neither of them would be in a position to offer an unbiased opinion. She couldn’t ask Jack either. He hated Russell; she could guess what he’d say. She needed to talk to Michael, and the sooner, the better.

She had reached for the phone again when she remembered that Michael had told her he wouldn’t be at school on Friday because of some routine medical tests he was having at Christiana Hospital. He’d said they’d be keeping him overnight, and releasing him at noon on Saturday.

She’d offered to go over and look in on Otto, but Michael had said the dog would be fine. Michael usually left the dogs outside when he went on short trips. Liz knew he had an automatic water bowl and feeder for the animals in his garage. Otto could come and go as he pleased though a dog door.

“My luck,” she said to Heidi after an unsuccessful call to Amelia, who said she was going to drive down to spend the weekend in Norfolk with Thomas. “On to Sydney.”

Her friend was home, but expecting company. “I’ll call you tomorrow,” Sydney said. “If I forget, you call me. You’re welcome to join us for dinner if you like. We’re going to drive out in Maryland to Suicide Bridge, that restaurant on the water. Terrific seafood.”

“No, thanks,” Liz answered. “I’ll give you a ring tomorrow. Have a good time.” She hung up and looked back at the dog. “Well, what do you say?” she asked. “Jack or Detective Tarkington?”

Heidi wagged her tail and looked hopefully at the cookie jar.

“No more treats until after supper,” Liz said. “Michael won’t forgive me if I send you home ten pounds heavier.” Reluctantly she punched in Jack’s number.

“The
Dolphin III
is out catching fish,” Jack’s recorded answer proclaimed. “Leave your number and a message, and the captain will get back to you tomorrow. Unless the fish are biting.” At the beep, Liz hesitated and then hung up without saying anything. What could she say in twenty words or less?

She sighed, realizing how much she’d hoped that Jack would pick up, listen, and have sensible advice. She dug in her purse for Nathan Tarkington’s number.

“Leave a message at the beep.”

“I hate voice mail,” Liz said to the dog. “It’s . . . it’s barbaric.” She considered explaining her fears about Russell’s safety to a desk sergeant, but then decided against it. It was time Russell started behaving responsibly and cleaning up his own mistakes. She couldn’t spend the rest of her life taking care of him. She’d tell Detective Tarkington everything on Monday and let him take it from there. Besides, maybe Russell had already taken her advice and asked for protection.

Taking only a quick break for a grilled cheese sandwich, a salad, and a bowl of ice cream, Liz spent the rest of the evening preparing her exams. Heidi paced the hallway and front staircase, occasionally barking, but whenever Liz went to see what was upsetting the dog, she couldn’t find anything wrong.

Liz flicked through the channels to see if there was anything worth watching on television. Too restless to settle for reruns or comedies with canned laugher, Liz did a load of laundry, let Heidi outside, and gave the command that would turn her from companion to watchdog. Alight rain was falling, but Michael had assured her that the German shepherd was oblivious to the weather. She’d been thinking about what Jack had said, that Heidi would be a better watchdog if she wasn’t in the house, and decided that he was probably right. By the time Liz was ready for bed and a few chapters into the best-seller she was reading, it was eleven-thirty.

“Maybe I should take Michael up on his offer,” Liz murmured to Muffin. “Board you in a kennel and enjoy a vacation.” Muffin didn’t answer, merely staring back with slitted eyes and an irritated twitch of her tail.

Liz fluffed her pillow. If she went with Michael, it wouldn’t be just a few weeks away, it would be more . . . It would mean breaking with Jack once and for all.

And what then?

“You can’t have your cake and eat it too,” her father always said. But what kind of sense did that make? Liz wondered. If you had cake, you usually ate it. Funny, she’d never questioned that old chestnut before.

Michael or Jack? Or keep both as friends and go on alone as she had been for so many years? Somehow, independence didn’t seem as appealing as it always had before.

She switched off the light.

The Game Master found dealing with the guard dog difficult. He hated waste, and this animal was both beautiful and highly trained. But the German shepherd presented an obstacle, and obstacles had to be disposed of as efficiently as possible.

The poison was quick, deadly, and nearly painless. He injected it into a slice of raw liver and left it in a spot the animal, with her excellent sense of smell, was certain to discover. The results were predictable.

The Game Master glanced at his watch. 3:34. He waited. Fifteen minutes passed before he was certain that the dog was dead. He carried the still-warm body to the back porch and posed the carcass in a lifelike position near the kitchen door, where the professor would be certain to discover it in the morning.

He entered the house using a key that he’d duplicated from a spare set in the professor’s top bureau drawer. Surprisingly, he’d been able to remove the original from the key chain and return it, once it had served its purpose, without her ever knowing it was missing. Even the ones who believed themselves so smart proved to be foolish compared to his intelligence. Having the key made it easier to enter her home, but even if she’d changed the locks after he’d stolen the key, he would have gotten in anyway. And, he suspected, it would have been more fun.

Once inside, the Game Master made his way to the larger of the two attics to collect his videos and check his audio equipment. It was wonderful how science made observing his victims easier and easier. He couldn’t wait to get home and view the footage of the professor in the shower and the bedroom. He’d installed two cameras in her bedroom, so that he could view her antics from every angle. A woman let loose her wildest fantasies between the sheets.

Heat flashed under the Game Master’s skin, and his breathing quickened. Videos made the best mementos. He could enjoy them over and over, long after his game pieces were history. He glanced at his watch again, pressing the tiny button to light the display. He’d been in the house forty-two minutes. Where did the time go? Dawn came early to the shores of Delaware Bay in late spring. He would have to move quickly.

He descended the stairs and made his way through the hall passageway to the professor’s bedroom. Disappointingly, her door stood ajar. Foolish, foolish woman, he thought. Where is your sense of self-preservation? Haven’t you heard that smoke kills before fire? If an accidental fire started anywhere in the house—and old houses were known as firetraps—your smoke alarms might not sound until it was too late. Worse than silly, she was stupid. And he had little patience with stupidity.