Colder Than Ice (7 page)

After several minutes she went back inside, hit the release and let the fully loaded clip drop from the hollow butt into her waiting palm. Then she locked the gun in its assigned drawer, next to the tiny derringer. The key was on a chain around her ankle. She returned the clip to the top of a bookshelf, where she could grab it fast but no one else would ever notice it.

Her telephone was ringing. She snatched it up and whispered hello, half-afraid the man she'd been thinking about—Mordecai, not Joshua—would somehow start whispering to her from the other end.

“Hey, Beth. It's Julie.”

“And Dawn!” Dawn called from somewhere in the background. Not on an extension, though.

Beth closed her eyes against the rush of sheer pleasure hearing her daughter's voice brought welling up inside her. God, it was heaven to hear her voice. Warm, sweet heaven. The night of that horrible raid, Dawn had been only a baby. Beth had been shot, certain she was dying, when she'd given her daughter to her best friend, begged her to take Dawn out of that place. And Jewel—Julie now—had done it. She'd raised
Dawn as her own, believing, as the rest of the world had, that Beth had died in the raid. By the time Beth found them again, Dawn had been happy, thriving, and calling Julie “Mom.”

And yet…. “Are we private?”

“Yeah. Pay phone, outside a convenience store. Nowhere near us. It's clean, don't worry. I'll put Dawny on after we talk.” Her next words were muffled. “Dawny, go grab us a couple of Diet Vanilla Cokes, will you?”

“Sure, Mom. Be right back. Don't you
dare
hang up.”

Beth sighed, ignoring the blade she felt twisting in her heart every time she heard her daughter call her best friend “Mom.” She swallowed the pain, kept it hidden from her voice. “It's not like it matters. Sooner or later, he's going to find me.”

“Not necessarily,” Julie told her, just as she always did. “Beth, you have a new name, new town—”

“It won't matter. His gift is genuine, Jewel. Even if his mind is broken, his gift is for real. He'll track me down.”

“You have some reason to feel like he's getting close? You sound…shaky.”

Beth swallowed. “I don't know. It's probably nothing. I'm probably overreacting.”

“I have never known you to overreact. Maybe it's time you accept some of the help the government is always offering—the bodyguards, I mean.”

Beth shook her head. “I don't trust anyone who works for the government. Hell, it was a government man who shot me.” Her and thirty other teenagers, she thought silently, in a riot that should have been avoided. She'd lost everything because of it. Her soul, for a time, as she lingered in a coma. Her memory for years afterward. Her daughter, the only one she would ever have. Her identity, her entire life. Gone, all of it, because
of one gung ho soldier with an itchy trigger finger and a lousy aim. “I don't want another one like him
protecting
me.”

“Then maybe you should get out of there.”

She pursed her lips. “No, Jewel. Like I said, it's probably nothing. I'm just paranoid. Besides, I'm sick of running and hiding.”

“Yeah, and when did you decide that?”

“I don't know. It's been a long time coming.” She licked her lips. “When he comes, I'll be ready. Maybe I should just face him. Only one of us would walk away, but at least the running would be over.”

“You're scaring me, Beth.”

Beth swallowed hard. “I'm being melodramatic. I'm lonesome. I miss you guys. I miss Dawny.”

“I know. She misses you, too. She's been begging me to let her come up there for a visit.”

Beth closed her eyes. It was strictly against the government's rules for her to see her daughter. Then again, according to Arthur Stanton, she wasn't supposed to communicate with Dawn by phone or e-mail, either. It hadn't stopped her from doing so. Still…

“It may not be the best time to risk it, Jewel. Try to put her off until I can be sure it's safe.” She didn't think Mordecai would harm Dawn, and he probably wouldn't try to abduct her again now that he'd surrendered his parental rights to her. But given his state of mind, there was no point putting her within his reach.

“Will do. Listen, Beth, I got wind of something at the newsroom. I don't know if it means anything. In fact it probably doesn't, but…David Quentin Gray—Mordecai's ex-lawyer—escaped from Attica last week. They found him dead, shot once in the head, the next day.”

Beth got a chill that didn't make a hell of a lot of sense. “Who shot him?”

“They don't know.”

Beth sighed. “It's probably nothing,” she said. “He didn't know anything about me. I mean, how could he?”

“No. It's nothing. I'm sure of it. I just thought you should know.”

“Thanks, Julie.”

“Here's your drink,” Dawn said. “Can I talk now?”

“Just a sec, hon. Beth, if you need us, let us know. Sean and I can be there in no time. We love you, you know. And we owe you a hell of a lot.”

“I'm the one who owes you, Jewel. Now put the brat on the phone before she has a fit.”

She heard the telephone move, then Dawn's voice came on the line, and Beth let it wash over her like rain over a dying flower. Dawn talked about her senior year of high school, her teachers, her classes, her plans for graduation and where she might go to college. She was driving now. Her Jeep had gotten a dent from a kid in the school parking lot, and she was mortified about it, and so on and on and on.

Beth listened, commenting in all the right places, and she somehow managed to keep the tears that were sliding down her cheeks from being evident in her voice.

I
t
was
Lizzie. This was
her!

Mordecai's heart had pounded, and he'd barely been able to catch his breath as he watched her running along the winding country lane. Running. Hands clenched into fists pumping at her sides. As if she were fighting.

And then she slowed and walked right up to the front porch of the very house he'd been watching: the fading, former Blackberry Inn. All night, he'd been parked in his car, keeping the boy under surveillance, just as the guides had told him to do. It had made no sense. He'd been frustrated, thinking it stupid and senseless to sit there, cold and uncomfortable, overnight. He knew where the boy lived now, so what was the point? Even if he was to be Mordecai's heir…

Now he understood.
This
was the point. The boy was a beacon, pointing the way to Lizzie. Already he was connected
to Mordecai, already aiding him in his work. He had led Mordecai to Lizzie. Obviously he was the one. The boy, Bryan, was the one he'd been waiting for. He should have trusted, had more faith. The guides always had a reason for everything they told him to do.

Mordecai took out his binoculars and watched every move Lizzie made. He watched her sit on the porch, sipping tea with an old woman, watched the looks, the smiles, they exchanged.

They were close. The old woman was important to her.

Then the man came out to join them, and Mordecai's body went stiff and his nerve endings prickled. The man had to be Bryan's father—the resemblance between the two had told him that much. But what was he doing with Lizzie?

A short while later, she was running again. But this time the man ran with her. The bastard had no business there, Mordecai thought. Lizzie was
his.
Always had been, always would be. Dead or alive, she belonged to Mordecai.

He let them get a good distance away before starting his car and driving a little closer. He was careful not to get too close, and he never let them spot him.

God, how different she seemed…felt. The energy he sensed surrounding her was not the same as it had been before.

She'd changed.

She thinks she's escaped you, Mordecai. Thinks she's above you now.

Look at her, running. Trying to grow strong. She'll fight you this time.

“She fought me last time,” he muttered. “Isn't shooting me in the chest fighting me?” His chest ached a little at the memory, even though the Kevlar vest had ensured he only suffered
a pair of broken ribs from the bullet she had fired at his heart…even as she kissed his lips.

She was weak, back then. And she still loved you, in some desperate, dependent way. She wept when she thought she had killed you.

But she's not weak anymore. She won't shed a tear for you now.

Mordecai decided to ignore the voices for a while, just the way he was ignoring the presence of the man, the interloper, and simply bask in Lizzie's presence. In being able to see her, watch her. In being this close to her. God, how he'd loved her once. Still. As he should.

Jesus had loved Judas, even after his kiss of betrayal.

Mordecai followed her to where she lived, in a cottage just at the edge of Blackberry. He knew it when they slowed to a walk, entered the house. He even saw her opening the door with her set of keys.

They've seen the car, Mordecai.

“Yes. I know.”

You know now. You know where to find her. You can come back.

Nodding slowly, Mordecai drove past the two this time. He had to return to his rented home away from home, because there were things that needed doing. He'd begun the preparations, but he had to finish them. So he went to his temporary home. He took time to shower, to change clothes, to get a bite to eat, take his messages off the machine. The school had called. He phoned back and agreed to come in on Monday. Then he rechecked the cord he had run throughout every room of the house, along the baseboards, and the batteries in his remote control. Finally he drove out of town and got himself a different car.

A few hours later he was back at Lizzie's house, in a dark blue,
late model sedan almost as unremarkable as the first car had been. He'd transferred all his supplies into this one. The trunk was filled with various controlled substances, some of them too powerful even to be carried by the average pharmacy—like the vial of salmonella, a bit of which he'd used on poor Nancy Stillwater's picnic lunch. Cruel, but effective. It wouldn't kill her, though she would be terribly sick for a week, maybe longer. That was all he needed.

Mordecai didn't kill unless Spirit dictated it. He wasn't a murderer. He was a tool of God. Besides, Nancy wasn't an evil woman. She'd even phoned him to see if he, too, had become sick. When he said he hadn't, she ruled out her picnic lunch as the source of the food poisoning and wondered aloud where she could have picked it up.

He parked the car in a pull-off, where autumn foliage concealed it from view. Then he walked back to Lizzie's house and took up a position on a tree stump just inside the edge of the woods across the street. This time he had a video camera, a digital camera and a pair of high-powered binoculars.

He never let her out of his sight for the rest of the day.

A woman delivered groceries around eleven. Beth ate an early lunch, alone at a small table in her kitchen. Yogurt and a banana. After lunch, a teenage boy showed up, and Mordecai recognized him even before he raised the binoculars for a closer look. It was young Bryan.

He and Lizzie worked over textbooks in the living room.

I have a private tutor.
The boy's voice repeated the words in Mordecai's memory. He closed his eyes, thanked his guides for putting the boy into his path, apologizing again for doubting them earlier. The boy was more than just an honest young man and heir to Mordecai's gift. And more than a signpost,
pointing the way to Lizzie. He was connected to her in some way. Connected to
him,
too. He marveled anew at the intricate web of the universe and the complex machinations of almighty God. The brilliance of linking Mordecai to Lizzie through this new child. The son.

“No wonder I couldn't find her right away,” he whispered. “She barely goes out. She's entirely self-contained. Except for that run in the morning.”

When Bryan left, Lizzie worked out with a punching bag that hung from the ceiling in a corner of her living room, shocking him with the power and fury of her blows. Then she showered. Later she made herself a solitary dinner and went to bed. Alone.

Always alone, Mordecai. She's changed. Like a lone wolf now, she thinks she's independent, thinks she's strong.

And you know why, don't you, Mordecai? She's waiting. She knows you'll come for her, and she thinks she's preparing. Thinks she's going to be ready.

Thinks she can defeat you.

Defeat God.

Mordecai lowered his binoculars and closed his eyes. “Oh, Lizzie, Lizzie. Don't you know you've only made matters worse by adding the sin of pride to the list of things for which you must be punished?”

He drew a breath. He didn't want her proud and independent and strong. Before he revealed himself, Mordecai wanted Lizzie reduced to the needy child she had been once; the lost, confused runaway who saw him as a savior.

She has to die, Mordecai. It's her fate. You need to correct a terrible flaw in history. She's supposed to be dead.

He tightened his jaw. “She has to be taught. She has to be
stripped of every ounce of pride and rebelliousness, and returned to a state of purity and humility. She'll come to me on her knees then. She'll beg me to take her back.”

Are you questioning us yet again? Haven't you learned better? She has to die!

“Stop!” Mordecai pressed his hands to his ears, awaiting the pain that inevitably came when he questioned his guides.

The voices went silent, and the pain didn't come. Not this time. But he was worried. If Spirit insisted, he would have no choice but to obey. Oh, if only there could be another way. Maybe, if Lizzie suffered enough, Spirit would be satisfied that she had found redemption. Maybe, if he could bring her down low enough, she could still be saved.

Impossible.

“I have to try.” He licked his dry lips and wondered why he hadn't thought to bring along some food or water. But he knew why. The voices hadn't told him to get those things. Maybe it was fitting that he fast while he watched Lizzie. Maybe there was a reason for it.

Lifting the binoculars again, he resumed watching her. He could see her clearly through the sheer curtains, from her blond hair spread on the pillows to the outline of her body beneath the sheets of her small bed.

She slept with the light on.

He knew now where Beth went when she went running in the morning. To that house, where the boy was living, with an old woman and a handsome man. The man who had accompanied Lizzie back to her house.

A dark flame burned in his belly. He didn't like the man.

It's the old woman she's closest to, Mordecai. It was obvious from their interactions this morning.

Again he nodded. He was making progress, he thought. He was identifying the underpinnings that supported her in her fraudulent new life. She had students. She had friends. A home and a job. All of those would have to go. One by one, they would have to go.

“Whatever happens, from here on, Lizzie, it's your own fault. And everything I do is for your own good.”

You've watched her enough for now, Mordecai. Tonight you've got other work to do.

 

Bryan sank down onto the sofa, took up the remote control and began flipping channels on the television. Josh came in from the kitchen, a coffee mug in one hand.

“I'm glad you came down,” Josh said. “I was going to come up.”

“To lecture me about school again?”

“No. Just to talk.”

Bryan shot him a skeptical look. Then he dropped the remote and leaned back. “Why not? There's nothing better to do.”

“Beth predicted you'd get bored out here in short order.”

Bryan nodded. “I've listened to every music file I've ever downloaded, ten times each.”

“What would make it better?” Joshua asked.

His son looked surprised. “An Internet connection would help. My laptop's set up for cable, but Maude says there's no cable here.”

“Done. I'll get on it tomorrow.”

“Really?”

Josh flinched inwardly. Had he been so self-absorbed that his son was surprised he would want to do something nice for him? “Sure. I'll find out what the local dial-up service is and
get you signed up. I'll have to clear it with Maude first—it's her phone.”

“I should have wireless.”

“We're not going to be here that long, Bry. Dial-up will do.”

Bryan nodded. “Where is Maude, anyway? Gone to bed?”

“Out at the movies with her next-door neighbor.”

“Frankie the cop?”

“Frankie Parker.” Josh smiled. “I know, a police chief named Frankie doesn't inspire much confidence.”

Bryan looked at him more closely. “You're…different today.”

“How so?”

“I don't know. Less tense. More laid-back.”

Josh nodded. “It's a laid-back kind of a town. Hell, I don't know, Bryan, maybe I've needed to take some time off for a while now. Or maybe it's…that I've been sitting behind a desk too long. You know, when Kevin and I first started our own private security business, we did all the work ourselves.”

“Bodyguards-R-Us,” Bryan quipped.

“Yeah. Now, I don't know. We've got three offices, dozens of men working for us, high-profile clients, and it's all about paperwork.”

“It's not fun anymore,” Bryan said.

Josh looked him in the eye. “You know what? You're right. You nailed it. It's not fun anymore.”

Bryan nodded. “So quit.”

“It's not that simple, Bryan.”

“Sure it is. You don't like what you're doing, so stop doing it.”

Josh sighed, sensed himself getting impatient with Bryan, and Bryan getting impatient with him, and decided to change the subject. “How'd the tutoring go?”

“Fine.” Bryan reached to the coffee table for a magazine and began flipping pages. It was a copy of
Vermont Dairy Monthly
—a field full of fat cows on the cover.

“Any sign of that brown car lurking around?” Joshua asked.