Fatal Identity (35 page)

“A little French place called Le Chêne.”

“The dog?” Marcie frowned slightly.

“No, the Oak. Unless you speak French, they sound the same. The golf pro told me all about it. They have a crispy duck with apricot sauce that's supposed to be the absolute best anywhere.”

“It sounds wonderful.” Marcie smiled happily. She loved duck. “What time do we have to be there?”

“Not until seven.” Brad glanced at his watch and whistled. “I'd better shower and get dressed. I didn't realize it was so late.”

 

 

The words made him cringe inside the labyrinth of his mind. The husband had given her a red negligee. And she had promised to wear it tonight. But he would be strong this time. He would not let his fear push him into the vortex of insanity.

He let the husband climb into the shower, soap his body, and stand under the hot spray of water. He preferred cold showers, but this time he did not feel the heat of the water. If he could triumph over the water, he could also triumph over the red. He would not let it affect him.

The husband had made a mistake by warning him, and now he had the upper hand. He knew what his trial would be, and he had ample time to prepare for his battle with the red. He would win by convincing himself that she was wearing a negligee of a different color. White. Blue. Black. Green. Anything but the evil red. He would change the color of her negligee by employing the power of the mind.

He knew that this was the right course, the honorable course. The essayist Carlyle had said that foolish men mistook transitory semblance for eternal fact. That meant that things were not always as they seemed. He could use this bit of knowledge to save her.

The husband got out of the shower and began to dry his body. This did not take much thought, and he was free to use the unoccupied portion of their mind to formulate his plan. Color consisted of varying wavelengths of light. It was a reaction in the mind, an individual perception. He could alter that perception and transform the evil red to an acceptable hue. Thus, he would alleviate the necessity for her destruction.

As the husband chose clothing to wear, he felt his power fade. More brain cells were being utilized, leaving less for him. But he would save the portion of brain he needed. He had reached a decision, and he would do this for her. She was his lost love. He would not let the husband kill her through him.

 

 

“What's the matter, darling?” Marcie frowned. Several times during the excellent meal, Brad had seemed preoccupied.

“What? Oh . . . nothing. Just tired, I guess. It's been a long day.”

“That's exactly what I was afraid of.” Marcie gave him a tender smile. ”How about a quick nap on the couch when we get back to the condo? I can always wake you later.”

Brad grinned at her and shook his head. “No way! I've been thinking of you in that blue negligee all day.”

“It's red.” Marcie looked puzzled. “You sent me a red negligee, Brad.”

“Oh. Of course. I meant to say red. For just a second there, I remembered it as blue. I must have looked at a blue one, too.”

Marcie breathed a sigh of relief. There went Sam's theory. Brad hadn't chosen the red negligee for any ulterior purpose. He'd also considered a blue one.

The waiter appeared at their table with a silver pot of coffee, but Marcie shook her head. “No more for me, thank you.”

“Could I interest you in our dessert tray? We have excellent French pastries.”

“Darling?” Marcie glanced at Brad, but he looked preoccupied again. “Not tonight, thank you. I think we're ready for the check.”

Brad seemed to rally a bit when the check arrived. He added the tip, signed it, and smiled at Marcie. “Ready to go?”

Marcie nodded and followed him out of the restaurant. It took at least fifteen minutes to get a taxi, but the fresh night air seemed to perk Brad up. When they finally climbed out of the taxi at the entrance to the condo, he was as energetic and talkative as usual.

“Would you like to take a walk on the beach?” Marcie suggested. “It's a beautiful, warm night.”

Brad nodded. “Good idea. Let me run in and get you a sweater.”

“But it's warm, Brad. I don't think I need a sweater.”

Brad shook his head. “No, Marcie. I insist. It seems warm now, but the ocean breeze can be chilly. I don't want my lovely bride to catch a cold.”

Marcie frowned as she watched Brad rush inside. He was so suddenly solicitous, it made her feel uncomfortable. He actually reminded her of the husband in
Summer Heat
. He was bending over backward to please her and allay any suspicions she might have about him.

That was ridiculous! Marcie pushed the thought from her mind. Brad was just being sweet. Comparing him to the husband in
Summer Heat
was grossly unfair. Brad was only concerned about her welfare because he loved her.

“Here, darling . . . put it on.”

Brad appeared at her side so suddenly, Marcie jumped. Then she gave a nervous little laugh. “You startled me. I guess I was daydreaming.”

“About me, I hope.” Brad smiled at her lovingly, and slipped his arm around her shoulders. “Careful, darling. The path's slippery, and you could twist your ankle in those sandals.”

The walk on the beach lost some of its magic as Brad warned her of every loose pebble. By the time they finally reached the edge of the water, Marcie felt as fragile as a basket of eggs. She'd always thought she wanted someone to take care of her, but Brad was being overly protective.

“It's all right, Brad.” Marcie turned to him with what she hoped was a convincing smile. “I'm not
that
breakable.”

Brad looked dismayed. “I'm sorry, darling. It's just that I don't want you to hurt yourself. You're the most important person in my life.”

“And you're the most important person in mine.” Marcie slipped her arm around his waist and snuggled close, forgetting how irritated she had been only moments before.

They watched the waves for a while, lapping at the shore gently and swirling back out again to be lost in the depths of the sea. Marcie felt the tensions of the day disappear with each passing moment. The moon glistened on the surface of the water, creating a shining, mirrored surface that stretched out to the horizon.

“Shall we go in now?” Brad turned to her with a smile. “I've got champagne on ice.”

Marcie nodded, and they climbed the path to the condo again. As they passed a bed of night-blooming jasmine, she suddenly thought of the day Sam had met her at the airport, and how kind and gentle he had been, not the least bit fawning or overprotective as Brad had been tonight, but genuinely concerned about her welfare.

Thinking about Sam made her sad, and she forced that memory back. Sam was no longer a friend. He'd insulted her husband, and caused her to doubt him.

Marcie shivered as the reality struck her. She
did
doubt Brad. Sam had made her doubt him. It wasn't right, and it wasn't loyal, but she no longer completely trusted the man she loved.

“What's the matter, darling? Are you cold?”

“No, I'm fine.” Marcie shook her head, but Brad held her a little tighter as he escorted her into the elevator. He was being overprotective again, just like the murderer in
Summer Heat
. Sam had planted these seeds of doubt in her mind. She had to ignore them, or they would ruin her whole honeymoon!

CHAPTER 29

Sam ignored the flight attendant's standard warning and raced for the exit as the plane touched down. George was right behind him. They were the first two off the plane, and they ran through the terminal, dodging people and baggage.

“What time is it?” Sam was puffing as he reached the door to the street.

“Almost ten.” George pointed to the lighted kiosk in the distance. “There's the rental car counter down there.”

“Okay. Good luck.”

“Same to you, buddy.”

George headed to the taxi stand at a dead run, while Sam hurried off in the opposite direction. They'd worked out a game plan on the plane. Sam would rent a car and drive straight to the condo. George would take a taxi to police headquarters, and pull every string he could to get them rolling. The first one to arrive at the condo would get Marcie out.

“May I help you, sir?” The girl at the rental stand gave Sam a friendly smile.

“Here's my card. I need a rental fast.”

“Certainly, sir. Would you like a compact, a subcompact, a sedan, a sports car, a luxury car, a sports-utility vehicle, or a passenger van?”

“I don't care. Just give me whatever's gassed up and ready to go.”

The girl punched a few numbers in her computer and studied the display. “How about a luxury Lincoln?”

“That's fine. How fast can I get it?”

“In less than five minutes, sir. They had it all prepped, but the customer decided he wanted a van instead. All I have to do is call, and they'll bring it around right now.”

“Make the call. If it's here in less than five minutes, I'll give you a nice tip.”

“Yes, sir!”

As soon as the girl had called for the car, Sam took out his driver's license and pushed it through the window of the kiosk. “Make a copy of this. All the information's correct. Give me a copy of the rental agreement, and I'll sign now. You can fill in the details later.”

“Whatever you say, sir.” The girl ran his driver's license through the copier and filled out a credit slip. Sam signed the slip and the rental agreement, and the transaction was done.

“Is that my car?” Sam gestured toward the white car that had just pulled up to the curb.

“Yes, sir. All of us here at Island Rental hope you have a wonderful vacation.”

“What time is it?”

“Five minutes after ten, sir.”

“Thanks. This is for you.” Sam pushed a fifty-dollar bill through the window, gave a quick smile as he noticed the girl's astonished expression, and raced off toward the car. A moment later, he was speeding away from the airport, heading for the condo. He'd checked with one of the flight attendants on the plane, and she'd told him that the condo was forty minutes from the airport. He just prayed he'd get there in time to save Marcie!

 

 

“What time is it?” Marcie smiled as Brad handed her a glass of champagne.

“Five after ten. Why? Do you have a pressing appointment?”

Marcie giggled. Brad was teasing. “Only with my husband. But he looks very tired tonight. I don't suppose you'd be willing to stand in for him?”

“Thank you, my love. Nothing would please me more.”

Marcie had been about to take a sip of champagne, but Brad sounded so strange, she stopped, the glass halfway to her lips. She glanced up at him and frowned slightly. He was wearing a very bemused expression, one she'd never seen before. But when he saw that she was puzzled, he smiled.

Even though she was still a bit confused by his rapid change of expression. Marcie smiled back. “You startled me, darling. You sounded almost like a different person.”

“Perhaps I am a different person.” Brad reached out to take her hand. “The love of a good woman can change a man for the better. Lord Byron made that observation back in the seventeenth century.”

Marcie raised her eyebrows. She'd never heard Brad quote Byron before. Now that she thought about it, she'd never heard him quote anyone. There was a lot she had to learn about her new husband. But then he pulled her into his arms and kissed her, and Marcie sighed in pleasure. There was a new gentleness in his kiss. The almost insincere, overly solicitous Brad had disappeared. In his place was a man who truly cared about her.

As the kiss ended, Marcie opened her eyes. Brad was wincing, as if in pain, and Marcie sensed an internal struggle. Just as she was about to ask him what was wrong, he smiled his old, familiar smile again.

“You really threw off my golf game today.”

“I did?”

“You did.” Brad grinned down at her. “I kept imagining how beautiful you'd look in that red negligee. Go put it on, darling. I want to see you.”

Marcie smiled, although she was still disturbed. Brad had switched moods again. For one brief instant, she thought about Sam and his crazy theory of alter egos, but she pushed the thought firmly from her mind. If Brad wanted her to wear the red negligee, she would. She'd do anything to make him happy.

“Wait here and have another glass of champagne. I'll be right back.” Marcie gave him a quick kiss. Then she walked into the bedroom and closed the door. She knew she was acting like the proverbial blushing bride, but she was still a bit shy about undressing in front of her new husband.

Just as she was about to slip the new negligee over her head, the phone rang. Marcie waited for Brad to answer, but then she remembered that she'd unplugged the phone in the living room, right after Sam had called her. She had a good notion to let the bedroom phone ring, but it might disturb Brad and she certainly didn't want him to come in the bedroom to answer it.

“Marcie? Thank God I got you!”

Marcie frowned as she recognized Sam's voice. “Forget it, Sam. I refuse to listen to any more of your . . .”

“I'm calling from my rental car, and I'm ten minutes away. Please, Marcie. Don't let Brad in. Lock the door and wait for me to get there.”

“I don't want you to come here.” Marcie started to get angry. Sam was being a pest. “Turn right around and go back to the airport. Brad and I were just going to go to bed, and . . .”

“He's there?!”

“Of course, he's here. He's my husband. Look, Sam . . . I've had enough of . . .”

“Please believe me, Marcie. I'm trying to save your life!”

Marcie frowned. Sam seemed sincere, but he was terribly mistaken. “Look, Sam . . . you're wrong about Brad. I'd stake my life on it!”

“That's exactly what you're doing.” Sam sounded very definite. “Stall Brad somehow, and I'll call the police. And whatever you do, don't wear red!”

“But I'm about to put on . . . Sam? Are you there?” The phone crackled with static, and then there was nothing but a dial tone. They'd lost contact. Marcie frowned and put the receiver back in its cradle. There was no doubt in her mind that Sam was wrong, but Brad
had
acted very strange tonight.

Marcie glanced down at the red negligee in her hand, and shuddered. She realized that Sam was being totally ridiculous, but it wouldn't hurt to wear the lovely white lace peignoir set that Rosa had given her for a wedding present. She'd tell Brad that the red negligee hadn't fit. He might be disappointed, but he would understand. After all, he'd almost given her a blue one, instead.

He was locked in a deadly struggle for the life of the woman he loved. The gods had given him a second chance to save her, and this time he was determined to triumph. At any moment she would appear, and she would be wearing the red negligee. He must not react to the evil red. It was a snare the husband had set for him. He would change the color in his mind, and thus avoid the trap.

He could feel the husband grow stronger as her footsteps approached. He fought to hang on to his small share of consciousness, and he succeeded. Another trap avoided. Another strategy rendered useless. The husband had planned to shut him out until the precise time had come to destroy her, but he was too strong to recede. He would remain here, fully cognizant, for all that transpired. He would not let the husband shock him into action, as he had done in the past.

The husband smiled at her as she opened the door. But then, as their eyes saw her, the husband made their face fall into lines of disappointment. “Marcie, I thought you were going to wear the red negligee.”

He exulted in her perceptiveness. She had aided him in saving her life. But he was not dominant, and their face looked angry.

“I'm sorry, darling. I hope you're not too upset, but it's the wrong size. Can we exchange it tomorrow?”

“No! Put it on anyway! I want to see it!”

Her face turned white. She realized that the husband was very angry, and she hurried to placate him. He could have told her that it would be a losing battle. The husband was never placated.

“But . . . if I wear it, we can't exchange it.”

“I don't care!” The husband made their face glower fiercely. Since frightened prey avoided the web, he made their face smile an embarrassed, sheepish smile. “I'm sorry, darling. I didn't mean to shout. It's just that I've been imagining you in that negligee all day, and I'm terribly disappointed. Won't you please wear it for me, even if it's the wrong size?”

He wanted to tell her to refuse, to make up another excuse, but the husband was too dominant to let him speak. He watched with dismay as her beautiful face reflected her emotions. Love. Fear. Suspicion. But love won out, as she smiled and nodded. “Whatever you want, darling. I'll put it on right now.”

She turned and went back to the bedroom, closing the door behind her. He listened, but he did not hear the lock snap in place. Love had made her foolish, as it was wont to do. She trusted the husband, when she should have put her trust solely in him.

The husband was not observant. He poured himself a glass of champagne and drank it down in one gulp. There was a smile on their face; he saw the reflection in the mirror hanging over the fireplace. It was the smile of a predator.

But the alcohol had dulled the husband's perceptions, and he failed to hear the slight clicking sound as she locked the bedroom door. She had sensed the danger, and she was acting accordingly. But the husband was strong, and the lock on the bedroom door could be easily broken. If his love delayed too long, the husband would not be denied. He would smash through the door and dress her in the red negligee himself.

Marcie's hands were trembling as she took off the white peignoir set. Could Sam be right? The expression on Brad's face had been frightening. Of course, he'd said all the right things to reassure her, but something was terribly wrong. She had to delay as long as possible. Sam had said he'd call the police, and they could be here any minute.

“Marcie? Are you almost ready?”

Marcie jumped as she heard Brad's voice. He sounded anxious, and there was an undercurrent of something else in his voice, something that made her shiver. Did the voice belong to Brad James? Or James Bradley?

“I'll be there in just a minute.” Marcie did her best to sound eager and loving. It was difficult when she was so frightened.

Suddenly, she thought of the phone and she picked it up. Thank God there was a dial tone! She punched out 9-1-1, and shivered as she waited for someone to answer. If he heard her, he might crash through the door and rip the phone out of the wall.

A woman's voice answered, but before Marcie could say a word, the line went dead. She was sure Brad had done something to disconnect it. Marcie glanced frantically around the room. She knew the lock on the bedroom door wouldn't stop him for long, and there was nowhere for her to run except . . .

Quickly, Marcie pulled on her jeans and a sweatshirt. Then she inched open the balcony door. Perhaps there was some way to climb down to a lower floor. She tiptoed out and glanced over the rail. No handholds. No footholds. It was a sheer drop, straight down to the golf course below.