Truth or Dare (24 page)

Harry was intrigued. “How do you plan to research Branch? You said all he had on him was a phony driver's license with a no-good address in Phoenix.”

“He also had an unusual tattoo. I drew a picture of it for Singleton, who is checking it out on-line. And I saw some more of those protein shakes in his van. The address of the nutrition shop in Phoenix was on the sack. Thought I'd start there.”

30

He walked through Nightwinds, searching for her. He opened the door of the theater but she was not there.

He went outside into the night. She was standing at the edge of the pool looking down into the water. When she saw him she smiled sadly and shook her head.

“You can't come out here,” she said. “There's a psychic barrier.”

He would not let it stop him this time. He kept walking until he stood on the coping beside her.

“The barrier doesn't matter,” he said.

“Yes, it does. You can't feel it because you don't believe in it but it matters to me.”

The underwater lights were on. He could see Simon Wendover floating, faceup, just beneath the surface of the gently slapping water. Wendover laughed his silent dead man's laugh.

“She may stay with you for a while but eventually you'll lose her, just like all the others,” Wendover promised.

“I don't care about the others,” he said. “I just need Zoe.”

Wendover grinned. “Don't worry, you won't be lonely. I'll drop in now and again to keep you company. You'll never be rid of me.”

 

He awoke in the sudden, fully alert way that he did when his sleeping brain registered an unnatural sound somewhere in the household. He lay still for a moment, listening intently. But he knew that it was the dream that had awakened him, not the sound of someone moving stealthily through the apartment.

Zoe stirred beside him, shifting a little in her sleep. Her bare foot brushed against his leg. He wanted to put his arm around her and pull her close but he was afraid he would wake her. If she knew he'd had another nightmare she would ask questions.

After a moment, he realized that the adrenaline produced by the dream images was not going to evaporate quickly. The stuff coursed through his veins, making him edgy and restless. He had to move, had to get out of the bed.

He eased aside the covers and got to his feet, trying not to jostle Zoe.

He found his trousers in the darkness and made it to the bedroom door before she spoke.

“Ethan?”

He paused. “I'm going to get a glass of water. Go to sleep. I'll come back to bed in a while.”

But true to form, she did not follow orders. He heard the brush of her legs under the sheets as she rose from the bed. Then he heard her bare feet padding on the carpet behind him.

“What is it?” she asked, snagging her robe off the hook and trailing after him down the hall. “Another dream?”

“Yeah.”

He went into the kitchen and halted long enough to step into his pants. He pulled up the zipper and went to the counter, not bothering with the lights. The moon shone through the window, etching the small space in a ghostly silver glow.

He opened a cupboard, took down a glass and turned on the faucet.

“Maybe we should talk about your dreams,” Zoe said.

Her voice was gentle but it was imbued with the determined, stubborn quality that he had come to know so well. She wasn't going to let go this time. He was probably doomed. Somewhere in the shadows he thought he heard Wendover laugh again.

He sat down at the table and thought about his options. They were limited. He could try feeding her a comforting lie that she might buy for a while, or he could tell her the truth.

He had never been much good with the comforting lies.

“The dream was about you and Simon Wendover.”

She sat down slowly across from him, her face unreadable in the ghost light.

“Both of us? Together in your dream? What was the connection?”

“I'm not sure.” He wrapped both hands around the glass. “Wendover shows up now and again, especially in November. He comes back to remind me that I crossed a line because of him.”

She said nothing; just waited.

“Once that happens, you can never cross back to the other side. Things are never the same.”

She took one of his hands away from the glass and wrapped her warm fingers around his cold ones.

“I was obsessed. My wife said I was crazy and she was right. I swear to you that I truly believe that I required vengeance to stay sane. But looking back I realize that what I really wanted was absolution for the sin of having failed to protect my little brother. Goes without saying that I never got it.”

Her fingers tightened on his.

“I knew even then that revenge can't buy that kind of peace of mind,” he said after a while.

“If you could go back in time, would you turn aside from your vengeance?”

He thought about how he had felt that day when Simon Wendover had walked, smiling in triumph, out of the courtroom.

“No,” he said finally. “But I have to deal with the fact that the reason he went free was because I didn't keep his hit man alive long enough to testify. I screwed up and the whole damn case fell apart.”

“The police were supposed to keep the hit man alive, not you.”

“Doesn't matter. Wendover got to him and that was the end of it.” He was acutely aware of the warmth of her hands. “Hell, I shouldn't have dumped this on you. I never meant to burden you with it.”

“I already guessed most of it,” she said simply. “From the first time that Bonnie told me about Wendover's death in a mysterious boating accident, I knew.”

He gripped her fingers convulsively, so tight that he almost crushed them. “You never said anything.”

“Ethan, please understand. It hurts me to know what it must
have cost you to do what you did. I also know that you could not have stopped until you got justice for your brother. You would do the same thing for Theo or Jeff or Bonnie or me. It's part of who you are. I think I've known that almost from the beginning. I'm only sorry that you have to live with the bad dreams and the memories.”

“I can live with them,” he said, opting for stark honesty. “That's not what's scaring the hell out of me.”

A tremor went through her but she did not try to pull her hand away from him. “What does scare the hell out of you?”

“That I can't be the kind of innocent, gentle man you once loved. I'll never be another Preston Cleland. I'll never be free of my past.”

“I don't care.”
She leaned forward a little, hanging on to his hand now as tightly as he was hanging on to hers. “You're not the only one who has been changed by the past. I'm different. I'm weird. Heck, I believe that I'm psychic, remember? You think you went a little crazy once? Well, I've got a bulging file of medical records that
proves
that I'm downright crazy.”

“Zoe—”

“Trust me, after what I went through at Candle Lake Manor, I'm not the same woman who married Preston. The woman I am today loves you, Ethan.”

The night sighed around him. He let her words and the promises in her eyes sink deep. He felt them settle into his soul. After a while he could no longer hear Wendover's laughter.

31

T
he electrician's name was Jim. He was a strong, solidly built man with the easygoing self-assurance of a person who knew his craft.

He stood beside the pool, opposite Ethan. Together they studied the sealed, waterproof light fixture that Jim had removed from the underwater socket. A length of cord dangled from it.

“What tipped you off?” Jim asked with an expression of great interest.

“It was a couple of those JDLR things,” Ethan said.

Jim raised his brows. “Something just didn't look right?”

Ethan nodded. “I had secured the pool cover with a lock. Got a couple of young nephews so I take extra precautions when it comes to attractive nuisances. When I noticed that the cover
had been removed, I started wondering just what the hell was going on. The fact that the same painter was here again with no one else around worried me a little, too.”

“How did you figure out he'd tampered with the lights?”

“When I walked toward him across the patio I noticed a damp spot on the concrete near this fixture.” Ethan glanced down at the light. “Didn't see any other signs of recent splashing, though. Couldn't figure out why it would be damp in just that one particular place and nowhere else. When kids jump into a pool they get everything in the vicinity wet.”

Jim chuckled. “So it was what guys in your line of work probably like to call a clue, huh?”

“Right. The suckers don't come along often, so when one shows up, I try to pay attention.”

“Good thing you noticed this one.” Jim picked up the cord and displayed the clean slice in the heavy insulation. “This is a brand-new cut mark. It left the wire exposed to the water and created a short. Once that GFI circuit breaker was bypassed, this whole pool was an accident waiting to happen.”

Ethan examined the sliced cord more closely. “How can I prove to the cops that this slice was done recently?”

“Copper wire under the insulation isn't corroded at all.” Jim bent the cord to show him more of the gleaming wire inside. “It would have turned green real quick in this chlorinated water.”

“Oh, yeah, right,” Ethan said, impressed with the pure logic. “Good thinking.”

“It's an electrician thing,” Jim said.

 

Singleton came to the door of his bookshop when he heard Ethan on the stairs.

“You're on your way to Phoenix?” he asked.

“Yeah.” Ethan checked his watch. “Zoe's going with me. I don't want to leave her here alone, and you and Harry both have your hands full right now.”

“This thing is getting more complicated by the minute.”

“I've noticed that.”

32

Z
oe waited in the front seat of the SUV, drumming her fingers on the seat, while Ethan went inside the nutrition shop to make inquiries. Through the window she could see him talking to a young clerk who looked like he probably did steroids for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

They had left Whispering Springs shortly after Ethan confirmed his suspicions with the electrician. The drive to Phoenix had taken a good hour. It had required another half hour of stop-and-go driving to reach the strip mall where the shop was located.

She had the unpleasant feeling that time was running out. She was pretty sure Ethan had the same sensation.

Inside the store, Ethan fished out his wallet. A good sign, she
thought. The clerk must have come up with some useful information.

A moment later Ethan walked swiftly outside and got into the SUV.

“What did he tell you?” she asked. “Did he have an address?”

“No.” Ethan put the vehicle in gear and drove toward the exit. “That would have been too easy. What he did know was that Branch paid cash and never gave his name, but the clerk recognized him right off when I described him.”

“That doesn't give us anything new.”

Ethan's mouth twisted a little with cold satisfaction. “Got one thing that may help.”

“What?”

“The clerk gave me the names of the local gyms. There aren't that many of them in this part of town.”

“How does it follow that Branch would use a gym in this neighborhood?”

“It's not a sure bet but it seems reasonable that he'd pick one that was convenient. He's a stranger in town. Why drive miles every day through Phoenix traffic if he can avoid it?”

“Good grief, do you think that Branch was concerned with his daily workouts while he was plotting to kill you?”

“Guys like him go a little crazy if they don't get their daily workouts.”

Crazy. Yes, that certainly fit her new theory. It made sense that John Branch might be the source of the scary psychic energy she had encountered on two occasions recently.

 

The nagging
ping-ping-ping
of the alarm on her digital watch finally pierced Shelley Russell's concentration. Reluctantly she pulled herself away from the computer.

Time for lunch and her midday pills.

“Yeah, yeah, I hear you.” She hit
save
on her laptop, took off her glasses and got to her feet.

She winced when her shoulders and knees protested. The arthritis was really kicking in today. Served her right. She should know better than to spend such a long stretch of time hunched over the computer. One of these days she was going to have to look into getting some ergonomically correct furniture for the office.

She went into the small combination washroom and storage closet and gave herself a critical survey in the mirror above the sink. Her hair was practically flat. No perm left in it at all. She would make that appointment at the beauty shop this afternoon, right after she finished reviewing her notes on the Whispering Springs case.

She opened the drawer and removed the plastic container that held her ration of pills for the entire week. She shook out the batch in the small bin marked
Noon
for that day and filled a glass of water.

She swallowed the pills, found the cheese-and-tomato sandwich in the miniature refrigerator and wandered back toward her desk.

There was something strange about the Whispering Springs situation. It had turned into one of those cases that kept her awake most of the night.

Hell, it seemed she hadn't had a good night's sleep in years.

Still, what she had been experiencing for the past couple of nights wasn't her usual brand of senior insomnia. She only got these particular early morning wake-up calls when her unconscious mind was trying to signal her that she was overlooking something important.

She went back into the office and started a fresh pot of coffee. It was going to be a long day and possibly an even longer evening. Wouldn't be the first time she had spent the night in her office.

She sat down at her desk and ate her sandwich. She studied what she had written on the computer screen while she waited for the coffee to finish brewing. What hadn't she done that she would have done if Branch hadn't been with the Feds?

A lot,
was her answer. More thorough background checks on all the players, for starters.

It was downright scary to realize how quickly you stopped asking the usual questions when folks claiming to be government agents waved their credentials in your face. Patriotism was a great thing but it worked best when it was tempered by common sense.

The newspaper article from the on-line edition of the
Whispering Springs Herald
popped up on her screen a short time later, right after she'd read the old news stories about Ethan Truax in the LA papers.

. . . A man identified as John Branch was the victim of a swimming pool electrocution accident yesterday afternoon at the home of Ethan Truax. Branch is reported to be in a coma at Whispering Springs Medical Center. Police are investigating. His condition is listed as critical.

Authorities stated that Branch was saved from near-certain death because of the timely actions of the home owner, who pulled him from the water and started CPR.

The circumstances surrounding the incident remain unclear. . . .

Branch in a coma? Nearly electrocuted at Truax's house? What the hell was going on here? She stared at the screen, trying to focus. It was hard work because she seemed to be sinking beneath a tide of exhaustion. She really had to get more sleep.

She remembered the coffee. She hadn't even had a cup yet. She needed some caffeine.

But when she looked across the room at the full pot it seemed to be a mile away from her desk. Gripping the arms of her chair with both hands, she shoved herself to her feet.

The wave of nausea hit her halfway across the room. She didn't lose the sandwich but it was close.

This isn't good.
Wasn't nausea one of the symptoms of a heart attack?

The queasy feeling receded. She breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe the mayonnaise she had used on the sandwich was bad. She couldn't recall when she had bought the jar. Months ago, at least.

She managed to pour herself a mug of coffee but it took almost every ounce of energy she had to carry it back to her desk. Her hand was shaking so badly she could barely set the cup down without spilling the liquid.

Something's wrong with me. Just like there's something wrong with the Whispering Springs case. A connection?

No. Impossible.

A new kind of fear flashed through her. Her notes. She needed to take another look at those notes.

Forget the notes. She needed help. She swayed on her feet, trying to think through the fog that was rolling across her brain.
Probably ought to call 911.
But that seemed too complicated. Maybe she just needed a good long nap.

She picked up the small spiral-bound notepad that contained her original notes and tried to concentrate. There was another PI involved in this thing. According to everything she had read about Truax, he was the kind of man who was willing to let a marriage and a multimillion-dollar business go down the tubes in an effort to get some justice for his murdered brother. Reading between the lines of the Simon Wendover obit, she had a hunch that Truax had gone even further in the pursuit of vengeance.

She could relate to a man like Truax.

Her feet went numb. Was she dying? She thought about all the pills she had recently swallowed. Had they messed up at the pharmacy? Given her the wrong meds? She'd heard that sort of thing happened more often that anyone wanted to admit.

Call 911

But first figure out where to put the notebook. Because if this wasn't a screwup on the part of the pharmacist, there were two other possibilities, neither of which was especially encouraging. The first was that it was her time to go and no pill on earth was going to save her.

The second was that someone wanted her dead.

If Truax came in search of answers, where would he look?

Think like the old-fashioned PI you are. Maybe he'll think like that, too.

She found the right hiding place, tucked the notebook into it and then turned to struggle back toward the phone. But she knew now that she would never make it.

Should have listened to my daughter when she told me to get myself one of those damn emergency alarm buttons to wear around my neck. But I didn't want to admit that I needed it. Not yet.

Maybe her son was right. Maybe she should have retired last year.

She crumpled to her knees. The phone might as well have been on another planet.

The door of the office opened. A figure drifted toward her. She was so groggy now she could not be certain if it was a man or a woman.

“Need help,” she whispered.

“Yes, I know. But I'm not here to help you. I just came for the computer and the file. You did an excellent job, Mrs. Russell. It's too bad you're going to be dead soon. I would have been delighted to recommend your services to others.”

The last thing she saw before she lost consciousness was a hand reaching out to shut down her laptop.

Day turned into night and she plummeted into the deepest sleep she had ever known.

 

Shortly after one o'clock, Zoe and Ethan walked out of the fifth fitness club on the list. Zoe was losing hope. They had struck out
again. No one at the front desk had ever seen anyone answering Branch's description.

“Damn, damn, damn,” she said on the way back across the parking lot. “This isn't getting us anywhere.”

“Can't say I'm surprised that he wasn't a regular at this club.” Ethan sounded remarkably philosophical. “Not exactly the kind of place you'd expect to find a really buff guy like Branch.”

“Really?” Zoe followed his gaze and saw an attractive young woman dressed in an outfit that brought new meaning to the definition of short shorts. Her bouncy blond ponytail was the last thing to disappear behind the heavily tinted windows. “What was your first clue?”

“I think it was that nonstop schedule of aerobics classes on the wall.” Ethan unlocked the SUV. “Can't see Branch working out with a bunch of people who use a gym primarily to lose weight.”

“Good point.” She thought about Branch's carefully molded physique while she climbed into the SUV and fastened her seat belt. “He was obviously obsessive about his bodybuilding.”

“Is.” Ethan fired up the engine with a quick snapping motion.

She glanced at him, confused. “Is what?”

“Branch
is
obsessed. Present tense. He's not dead. At least not yet.”

“Thanks to you,” she said softly.

Ethan did not respond. He concentrated on easing the SUV out into the flow of traffic.

“You didn't have to pull him out of the water,” she said after a moment. “And you certainly didn't have to do CPR. After all, the man had just tried to murder you.”

“Branch is no use to me dead. If he lives, I may get some answers out of him.”

“You don't have to talk that tough PI talk around me. I'm your wife, remember? You pulled him out of the pool because saving people is one of the things you do.”

His hands tightened on the wheel. He looked straight ahead through the windshield. “Not always. Not every time.”

“No, not always,” she agreed. “But most of the time, and that's what counts.”

The next stop was Bernard's Gym. The instant she walked through the door, Zoe saw that they were in an entirely different world, one that bore only a passing resemblance to the other athletic clubs on Ethan's list.

Bernard's Gym was filled with seriously bulked-up men and women dressed in workout clothes that appeared to be several sizes too small for their elaborately contoured bodies. The ranks of heavy, gleaming exercise machines looked like so much alien battle armor.