Fixed in Fear (22 page)

Lydia walked down the pine needle path away from the copse of cedar trees toward the villa. The yard had been landscaped to mimic the rugged abundance of a northwest rain forest, but one with a manicured and user-friendly finish. This was a property for those wanting a taste of primordial wilderness without the mud, bugs, or danger of the real thing. Her path ended at a limestone patio large enough to host a twenty-person dinner party. A glass wall showcased the interior of the home. Low-profile, high-taste furniture filled a great room serving as living, dining, and kitchen area.

No one appeared to be home.

Lydia had driven up that Friday afternoon from Olympia. She'd had no problem finding the Larchmont and knew from her research which of the luxury villas Allie had rented. She had no plans of entering the resort's property through the main gate. Allie had attempted to demonstrate her power the night before by showing up at Lydia's place uninvited and unannounced. It was time for Lydia to return the favor. So she'd parked her Volvo at a view point in the state park abutting the Larchmont property and made her way on foot through the dense forest, climbed between two strands of barbed-wire fence separating the exclusive resort from publicly funded land, and crossed the well-tended grounds until she came to Allie's lavish temporary home.

She made her way around the perimeter of the single-story villa, glancing into every window she passed. As she prepared to turn toward the front of the house, Lydia spotted a tall broad-shouldered man walking toward a bronze-colored E-Class Mercedes parked in the villa's driveway. She recognized him as Allie's driver. Lydia pressed her back to the side of the house and watched him from behind a neatly trimmed arborvitae. The driver opened the trunk of the sedan and pulled out several colorful shopping bags and a bouquet of daylilies. He headed toward the house and returned a few minutes later empty-handed. He was about to step into the car when a familiar voice called his attention to the villa's front door.

“Enjoy yourself this afternoon, Staz. You were wonderful with Vassily this morning. You've earned some rest, my dear friend.” Allie's pronouncement was delivered with imperial benevolence. “I'm in for the rest of the day, so drink as much vodka as you'd like. I'll text you my plans for tomorrow.”

The giant man nodded and got in the car. Lydia waited several minutes after the Mercedes disappeared from her sight. Then she stepped clear of her hiding spot, double-checked the safety on the Beretta holstered at the small of her back, and headed toward the front door.

Lydia heard footsteps approach after she rang the doorbell mounted to the side of a double-hung front door hand carved from Douglas fir with a scene of Washington's rocky ocean shore. Allie was speaking before she opened it far enough to identify her visitor.

“I don't want to be disturbed, Staz. I thought I made myself perfectly cle—” Allie's eyes widened for only a heartbeat when she recognized who stood before her. In another heartbeat she was again the composed charmer she typically presented to the world. “Lydia! How lovely. Have I forgotten an appointment?” Allie looked over the shoulder of her unexpected guest. “Are you alone?”

Lydia pushed the door wider and stepped into Allie's villa.

“I see.” Allie stood aside to let Lydia pass. “We're doing rude today, are we?” She closed the door. “Do come in. May I offer you something? I have a lovely iced tea in the refrigerator. Mango citrus.” Allie made a show of consulting the platinum watch on her slender wrist. “It's still two hours until cocktail hour, but what the hell. I'm sure there's a bottle of merlot in the wine rack you might like.”

Lydia walked to the center of the large open-concept room and looked around. “You land well, Allie. And always on your feet.”

Allie sat on an armless side chair upholstered in gray pinstripe flannel. “I'll take that as a compliment. How did you find me?”

Lydia stepped across the room. She laid her hand on the smooth marble island separating the kitchen and dining spaces. “It's never hard to do something you're good at.” She watched Allie register the intended insinuation.
I can find you whenever I want. Wherever you go.

“Does my father know where I'm staying?”

Lydia took a seat on the sofa across from where Allie sat. It was covered in a nubby silk the color of raw oysters. A low square table of wood and glass stood in the space between the two women. Lydia leaned back and estimated how many steps separated them. If Allie made an aggressive move toward her, Lydia would have ample time to grab her Beretta. “It's time for you to go, Allie.” Lydia forced a kindness into her voice she didn't feel. “I want you to know I feel sorry for the situation you're in. I truly do. But as I told you last night, I'll not run interference for you with your father. He's told you he'll stand by you if you're ready to turn yourself in. But he can't pretend you're not who you are. And he's not about to let you anywhere near Robbie's daughters until you change that. Your presence is causing significant stress. It's best for everyone if you simply leave.”

Allie folded her hands in her lap, threw her shoulders back, and lifted her chin. “My father shared that with you, did he? He told you his
terms
for accepting back his wayward daughter?”

Lydia understood why Allie would see that as a betrayal. She softened her tone even further. “He did. Only to explain why he needed my help to find you.”

“So you
have
told Daddy where I am. Should I be expecting a squad car soon? Red lights and sirens come to cart Mort Grant's little girl off to prison?”

Lydia shifted her hands to rest at her side, into a better position to push herself free of the sofa should she need to react. Allie's anger was growing, and an angry Allie was capable of anything.

“It's my understanding there are no warrants for your arrest. No one but Chris Novak and your father know you had Novak's little girl killed.”

“My, my. It seems you and Daddy have had quite the extended conversation about me. I'll ask one more time. Does my father know where I am?”

Lydia weighed the consequences of sharing that information. If Allie thought her father knew she was at the Larchmont and hadn't accompanied Lydia to this visit, would that fan the flames of Allie's anger? If Allie knew Mort hadn't yet been informed of his daughter's location, would she feel empowered in some mistaken notion that she and Lydia were now coconspirators? Or might Allie feel free to take revenge out on Lydia if she thought Mort would never know their paths had crossed?

“Go, Allie. Just go. You and I both know you're not about to walk away from the life you've built. Like you said last night, you're in a position of considerable power.”

“Considerable,” Allie underscored. “Considerable, Lydia.”

Lydia sidestepped the thinly veiled threat. “And you know your father will never accept anything other than you taking responsibility for your actions. And the consequences, too. He'll stand beside you, but he needs you to do that.”

“He never needed
you
to do that. How many have
you
killed, Lydia? What confessions has he expected
you
to make? What consequences have
you
paid? He expects his own daughter to jump through hoops to exercise what should be my basic right to spend time with my family while all he wants from you is your promise to live a boring middle-class life. And you're nothing more than some charity case my softhearted father picked up off the streets. Like a stray puppy abandoned by its bitch to starve in the rain. Tell me something: How many times have
you
taken my nieces shopping? How many recitals and school plays have
you
attended? And so help me, God, if you tell me they call you Auntie Lydia I'll…” Allie didn't finish her sentence.

Lydia wondered if that particular threat was directed toward her or Allie's nieces. She didn't bother to tell Allie the truth. She'd never met Hayden or Hadley. She'd never met Claire. Her rare encounters with Robbie were brief and always accidental. Allie would never believe that Lydia, despite Mort's repeated invitations, would always remain a drop-in player in Mort's life. Despite their connection. And she would always be a cipher to his family. Should Robbie hear her name it was likely he'd always have to be reminded of how Mort knew her. And the explanation would always be the same lie. Robbie would only and always know Lydia as a collateral witness in a case his father once worked years ago. She'd made the decision to avoid entangling her life with Mort's any more than it already was. Given who she was and all she'd done, it was safer for everyone in Mort's family for her to stay far away from them. She wouldn't put them in deliberate jeopardy.

“I'm not asking for much.” Allie shifted to a more agreeable stance. “And if my father has such rigid ideals against which to judge me, he can choose to stay away from me. But please don't let him stand between me, my brother, and the twins. That's not his decision to make, after all. And like I told you last night, I can offer my family the world. With me standing next to my brother and his family, I can give them experiences those girls don't even know how to dream about. I can give them
everything.
”

Even after all she'd experienced with Allie, Lydia was still stunned at the level of her narcissism. “Are you really that blind? What about those people who may want to take aim at you, Allie? What happens to anyone standing next to you when the natural consequences of your line of work come about? Do you think for a moment your father would put his family in harm's way?”

Allie leapt up from her chair. “I am his family!” she screamed. “How dare you tell me about my own father?
I
am his daughter! Not you!”

Lydia stood and met her eye to eye across the low-lying table. She said nothing, but held Allie's gaze until she sensed a return to whatever word might fit Allison Grant's idea of normal.

“Sit down.” Lydia's tone was no-nonsense calm.

Allie turned on her heel and stalked toward the windows. When she spoke her voice was calmer.

“I have a right to those girls. I would never hurt them. They are my nieces. I can do a lot for them.” Allie paced the width of the space. “I already am. It's me who pays the tuition at that expensive school they attend.”

Lydia felt no need to inform Allie she knew that wasn't the case. Mort had told her any money Allie sent was left to rot in an account they'd never access. Allie's cash had too much blood on it for Robbie and Claire to ever feel comfortable touching it.

“Even if I were to believe you could be a positive influence on Hayden and Hadley,” Lydia said. “Which I don't. But let's say I were to vouch for you. What makes you think your father would listen to me?”

Allie stopped her prowling across the luxurious living room and tilted her head as though speaking to a forgetful child. “I've told you before. Daddy loves you. He's a sucker for a bad girl turned good. And Mort Grant will do whatever it takes to protect the people he loves.” She shrugged. “Look what he did for me. Gone all those years. Doing things I'm sure he imagined were, shall we say, less than noble. Yet all I had to do was come home, cry a few tears, eat his god-awful chili, and he was willing to move heaven and earth to get me out of the jam I was in.”

It sickened Lydia to hear Mort's love for his daughter trivialized into nothing more than a manipulative tactic Allie could employ to get her way. Allie had the one thing Lydia would sacrifice all she had for: someone to cherish and protect her. Yet she treated it as though it were nothing more than a trump card. One that would always give her the winning hand.

“My father would do anything you asked.” Allie stepped toward her. “And you'd do the same for him. I could see that when I was staying at your place. The two of you are locked together. Hand in glove. Key in lock. Sonny and Cher. I will have access to those girls. My brother and his wife, too. I will be welcomed for Thanksgiving and Christmas. I will take those girls on school holidays. I will buy them fancy dresses that they'll twirl around in and I will pay for whatever education they need to
never
have to answer to
any
man for anything. I will make them
strong.
”

Lydia glanced again to the shopping bags in the hallway. She recognized the bright colors and logo. They were from a popular, and very expensive, toy store on Pioneer Square. Allie was so certain Lydia would be able to maneuver Mort into agreeing to let her see Robbie's girls that she'd already been out shopping for them. Allison Grant was accustomed to getting her way.

Another realization came to Lydia. One that sickened her.

“You didn't just stop into Bane & Friends yesterday, did you? Your encounter with the owner wasn't just happenstance.”

Allie returned to her chair. She leaned back with a disappointed look on her lovely face. “Don't tell me you're just figuring that out now. Really, Lydia? Do I seem the type of woman who prowls backwater coffee shops looking to pick up men? Shopkeepers?”

“Why? Why did you need to bring Oliver into this?”

“Because you care for him. Like I care for my family. I took Oliver for the same reason I took the medal. To show you I can have anything I want. You should know that by now. Nothing of yours is yours anymore, Lydia. Not unless I let you have it. And I'll allow
you
continued access to the things you love if you secure
my
access to the things I love. I really do hate that it's come to this sort of crude bargaining, but, as they say, it is what it is.”

“And if that doesn't happen?” Lydia needed to know Allie's endgame. Allie had the villa rented until Tuesday. What did she have in mind for the next four days?