The Final Victim (32 page)

    She only feels sad for him.

    That's because he's an expert manipulator. He knows just how to get what he wants.

    
Don't I know
it.

    There's another part of her, thank goodness, that doesn't give a damn about
Gib
Remington anymore. Yes, and she'd just as soon see him thrown in jail if he really did take a shot at Charlotte and her husband Saturday night.

    If he didn't, the police will figure out his innocence quickly enough.

    Detective Williamson certainly was grateful for her information. He was no teddy bear, but he did shake her hand warmly and thank her for coming forward.

    So she did do the right thing.

    
Definitely.

    Realizing that the microwave is beeping, she grabs the half-and-half. The cardboard carton is weightless when she lifts it from the shelf; she realizes it's all but empty.

    
Terrific.
They're out of everything. Milk, bread, eggs…

    
I have to buy food
, she thinks dully.
And I have to pick up Jed's prescriptions from the pharmacy, and drop off Cam's library books and duck out before I have to pay a fine we can't afford, and pay the electric bill…

    Life goes on.

    It has a way of doing that.

    It did after Daddy died.

    It is now, with Jed so sick.

    And it will even if something happens to him.

    For the first time, Mimi allows herself to imagine life without her husband.

    
What will happen to me and Cam?

    Who will love us?

    She sinks into a chair, buries her head in her arms, and cries at last, long and hard.

    "Y'all mean
,
Gib
might have been aiming for Charlotte?" Aimee rests a reassuring hand on Charlotte's trembling arm as she sits in silence, shaken by Dorado's ominous theory.

    'There's no way of knowing exactly where the shooter was aiming."

    Charlotte notices that Detective Williamson is careful not to implicate
Gib
directly. Of course not, because there's no way he can actually be a suspect in this. That's crazy.

    
Gib
, with
all his
swagger, isn't her favorite person in the world, nor, to be honest, is he the most upstanding citizen she can think of. But that doesn't mean he would try to kill his own flesh and blood over money.

    There has to be some other reason-a logical reason everybody's overlooking-for the cufflink to have turned up in the graveyard.

    As she told the detectives, for all she knew,
Gib
didn't even have them in his possession yet. He certainly hadn't asked her about them, so unless he did take it upon himself to go through
Grandaddy's
things and help
himself
…

    The thing is
,
it isn't all that difficult to imagine her cousin doing just that. Especially since the two of them haven't exactly been on speaking terms.

    
And…

    Well,
Grandaddy
had some reason for writing him out of the will. What if it was because he thought
Gib
was… dangerous?

    It seems ludicrous.

    It is ludicrous,
she assures herself
. Whatever
Grandaddy's
reason for doing what he did,
Gib
being some kind of threat wasn't it.

    "All right," she tells the detectives, "then, if I was the real target, why didn't he just finish the job? Why not gun down both of us, and shoot until we were dead?" 'Who knows? That's easier said than done. Especially from that distance, unless the
shooter were
an expert marksman… which by all accounts, the suspect is not."

    "But why not just keep shooting until he hit something?"

    "Maybe the barrel jammed. Maybe there was no more ammunition," Williamson says. "Maybe he realized he misjudged the distance after he started and that he'd have to be at a closer vantage point to finish."

    "Right," Dorado puts in, "or maybe he was spooked by the first shot, or when he saw Royce fall and realized he'd missed, or when it hit him that he was trying to take a human life. The truth is, Ms. Remington, if you're dealing with an amateur, and not a professional hit man, things are bound to get messy."

    "It's Mrs. Maitland," she says wearily.

    "I'm sorry."

    Dorado's tone is sincere, and Charlotte gets the impression that he, at least, is sorry about a lot more than using the wrong name.

    It's Williamson who rubs her the wrong way; Williamson whose bemused expression rankles.

    "I honestly don't think my own cousin would try to hurt me," she says firmly, mostly to him. "I mean, why would he?"

    "Charlotte, you said yourself that he seemed really angry when he found out about the money," Aimee points out gently, and Charlotte's heart sinks.

    She shouldn't have said anything to Aimee about that. But during the long drive back from the hospital last night, she found herself baring her soul to her stepdaughter about her loss, her cousins,
the
will… even her troubles with
Lianna
.

    Naturally, both detectives are all ears now, asking questions.

    "He's angry at you? Why?" That's Williamson, practically growling at her. "And why didn't you mention this until now?"

    Dorado, his brown eyes focused unwaveringly on Charlotte, chimes in to ask, "What money are we talking about?"

    Reluctantly, she tells them about her grandfather's will. She does her best to be brief, but they're asking countless questions and taking notes.

    In the end, she's forced to admit that she has no idea why her grandfather cut out her cousins and that the will is most likely to be contested by both of them.

    That clinches it. Charlotte can see the decision in their eyes before she's ended with a trite-sounding, "But none of that has anything to do with Royce being shot."

    The detectives have obviously concluded that it does.

    "Where are your cousins now, Ms. Remington?"

    "It's Mrs. Maitland," she bites out through a clenched jaw, "and I have no idea where they are.
Probably upstairs, still asleep."

    
"Really."
Williamson looks at Dorado. "Let's wake them, shall we?"

    
"
Lianna
?
Are you in there?"

    She sits up in bed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, trying to place the unfamiliar voice on the other side of her door.

    
"
Lianna
?
Can I come in?"

    Oh. It's Aimee, Royce's daughter, and, technically, her stepsister.

    But as far as
Lianna
is concerned, she's a total stranger.
A stranger who was with her mother all day yesterday, while
Lianna
was stuck here all alone.

    I don't like her
,
Lianna
decides.
Who cares if she tried so hard to be nice to me last night at dinner?

    
Lianna
can tell Aimee is a total brownnoser. But Mom can't see that, so no wonder she's crazy about Aimee. She seems like the perfect daughter.

    
Unlike me.

    "I'm sorry. Were you sleeping?"

    "Ye-ah,"
Lianna
intones to show her annoyance. "I like to sleep late in the summer."

    "Actually, it isn't that late," Aimee says apologetically.

    
Lianna
sneaks a peek at her bedside clock and is surprised to see that it isn't. What the heck is Aimee doing waking her up at eight thirty in the morning?

    "Your mom asked me to take you over to one of your friend's houses."

    Okay, that's even crazier.

    She opens her mouth to inform Aimee that she's grounded, but thinks better of it. Maybe Mom forgot about that, considering everything that's gone on.

    Instead, she asks Aimee, "Which friend's house?"

    "She said it was up to you. I'm on my way to the hospital in Savannah, and she told me to tell you to call and make arrangements so I can drop you off."

    "Mom isn't going to the hospital with you?"

    "No, she's…" Aimee hesitates. "She's coming later."

    That's odd. None of this adds up. Why wouldn't Mom rush off to the hospital first thing? That's what she said she was going to do last night, before they went to bed.

    She had kissed
Lianna's
forehead and said, "I'll probably be gone when you wake up in the morning, but I'll call to check in during the day, okay?"

    Oh, well.

    Far be it from
Lianna
to question any change in plans that allows her to be sprung from this prison.

    She swings her legs around the edge of the bed and tells Aimee, "I just have to take a shower, and get dressed, and eat breakfast. Then I'll call my friend… Devin."

    She almost said Casey, but that would be pushing it. Tempting as it is to try and sneak a chance to set up a meeting with Kevin, she'd better not risk it.

    Mom might be distracted, but she'd probably remember that Casey and her family are still away on vacation, which is the root of
Lianna's
being
grounded in the first place.

    No, she can't pull that again.

    Kevin will just have to wait.

    Even though he whined, when he called Saturday night, about not being able to see her any time soon, which definitely made her
feel
wanted. Naturally, she promised she'd sneak out of the house some night after everyone is asleep.
Just not for a few more days, after her mother calmed down about last week's incident.

    "Wait,
Lianna
." Aimee holds up her hand. "You don't have that much time."

    
"For what?"

    "You know… a shower…Just throw on some clothes and we'll go. I'll take you someplace for breakfast on the way, and you can call your friend Devin from my cell phone in the car if you want."

    
Lianna
narrows her eyes. "What's the big rush?"

    It sounds like her mother's trying to get rid of her.

    "I'm sorry… It's just that I want to get to my Dad," Aimee replies. "I had a hard time sleeping last
night,
I was so worried about him."

    "Oh."

    Who is
Lianna
to argue with that?

    
Especially with imminent freedom hanging in the balance?

    "Just let me find something to wear and brush my teeth, and I'll be right with you."

    Standing in the window of the front parlor, Charlotte watches Aimee drive away in her rental car with
Lianna
in the passenger's seat.

    Thank goodness.

    It was all she could do to act as though everything was normal when she gave her daughter a hurried kiss good-bye in the hall just now.

    "Have fun at Devin's," she said. "I'll call later about picking you up when I'm through at the hospital." 'Thanks, Mom."

    
Lianna
, who can be especially prickly in the mornings, was surprisingly docile. Charlotte was glad to see her leave, and grateful to Aimee for hustling her right out of here.

    She heard her daughter ask Aimee, as they walked down the wide front steps, about the black sedan parked in the shade of a towering oak.

    "I don't know whose it is," Aimee said convincingly.
Probably the nurse who comes to see your aunt."

    "She drives a Honda."

    "Well, maybe she sent somebody else today." Without missing a beat, she said, "Hey, you know what? I saw a
Bojangles
off the highway on the way back from Savannah last night. Maybe we could stop there for breakfast on the way. Do you like biscuits?"

    "They're okay," said
Lianna
.

    
Just okay?
Charlotte thought in irritation. Bo-Berry Biscuits happen to be
Lianna's
all-time favorite thing to eat.

    Obviously, she isn't going to go out of her way to be accommodating today.
At least, not to Aimee.

    
Lianna's
resentment of her stepsister was palpable at dinner last night. She barely spoke two words, and Charlotte spotted her sneaking a jealous glare at Aimee when
Lianna
thought she wasn't looking.

    Oh, well. She'll come around sooner or later. Charlotte hopes so-for Aimee's sake, anyway.

    What matters most now is that she's out of here.

    Charlotte doesn't need to have her teenaged daughter involved in what's about to happen in this house.