Riverstar (3) (31 page)

“Why is it I don’t believe that?” She motioned toward the chair with the gun. “Sit, while I think what to do with you.”

Sabrina paced in front of the chair, the gun pointed at Bella. “Did you really think Tiffany was smart enough to blackmail those guys? It was her fault we were broke in the first place, putting it all up her nose as fast as we could make it. I had to swoop in and figure out
what to do, how to save us from ruin. She’d told me Zinn kept all her client names in a little black book on her desk, like something out
of a bad movie, and I started thinking about it—couldn’t stop thinking about it—how this was the answer. I just needed to get my hands on that book and pick a few men who would pay for my silence. So I tagged along one night over to Jocelyn’s house and when they snuck into the kitchen to get high, like I didn’t know what they were up to, I took advantage of the fact they were totally out of it and snuck into her office. The book was on the desk, plain as day. I figured it was a sign from the universe or something. Boom—my plan was in action. And when Tiffany found out, was she grateful to me? No, the little bitch had the nerve to lie to me that Hough had beaten and raped
her over it when God only knows she probably welcomed him into her bed like she did every other man in town. Oh, she loved the married ones. She had that in common with you, I guess. And meanwhile, here I am chaste and pure, uncomplaining when no man
will come near me and my horrid face. No man has ever touched me, Bella. Not one.”

Bella kept quiet, hoping Sabrina would continue. She did, her
eyes ablaze, the words coming fast with little pause between sentences.

“And then that night I woke up and felt like something was wrong—twins do that, you know—so I went to check on her. I found
her curled
up in the corner of her room, crying. ‘Hough came looking for that goddamn book and then he raped me for punishment when he couldn’t find it,’ is what she said. ‘He thinks it’s me doing the
blackmailing. Do
you realize what you’ve done?’ I asked her how she knew and she said the minute Hough accused her of blackmailing her that she realized it had to be me who’d taken Jocelyn’s book. She added that I always underestimate her, which isn’t true. She always lets me down. I told her that too. I said, ‘If you weren’t always so out of it with booze and pills we wouldn’t be in this mess.’ I tried to explain
to her that I only did it for her own good since she blew all our money. I told her it was just like it always was—me cleaning up her mess. Well, that made her go crazy. Like certifiable, screaming that I’d gotten her raped and that she never wanted to see me again and that I was the devil. After all I’d done, this is what she says to me? She had the nerve to tell me it was
her
money, she’d earned it and it was hers to lose and I was nothing but a leech. Then she lunged at me. Can you believe that? She came after me. What was I to do but defend myself? We started fighting like when we were kids, rolling around on the ground like a couple of animals. I didn’t mean to kill her but my God she wouldn’t stop screaming.” She paused, tilting her head to the side and her voice was higher-pitched than the moment before, like a plaintive child’s. “I’m the victim here. Can’t you see that? My mother never could. No matter what I did. It was always Tiffany this and Tiffany that. I was the one who deserved the life she had. Not her. It was not supposed to be her.”

Outside came the sound of sirens. Peter had gotten her text and
Austin’s voicemail. He’d figured it out as well. They were on the
way.

Sabrina went to the window. She muttered an expletive and
turned back to Bella. “Get up.”

There was pounding on the door. “Open up, Sabrina.” It was Peter’s voice.

Sabrina yanked Bella to her feet. She put the barrel of the gun
into the small of Bella’s back. “March.”

At the door, they stopped. “I have Bella at gunpoint. Let me out of here or she gets it.”

Peter’s voice was soothing. “No reason to get carried away. We just want to talk to you, that’s all.”

“Bullshit, I know what you want. Move out of the doorway.”
She
pulled Bella close to her body, holding the gun at her neck now.
“Open the door, Bella. Nice and slow.”

Bella inched open the door. “Peter, don’t shoot. She has a gun on me.” She was surprised how calm she sounded. Just keep thinking clearly and calmly, she thought. As long as no one made any sudden moves she might get out of this alive.

Peter and Fred stood in the hallway with their guns pointed at
the door. Fred’s chest was moving up and down and his forehead glistened with sweat. Peter’s clear green eyes were sharp and unblinking. “Let her go, Sabrina,” he said.

“Get on the elevator,” Sabrina hissed into her ear. “We’re going to the roof.”

The roof? She’d told Sabrina she was afraid of heights. And she remembered.

Bella couldn’t breathe. She gasped for air. Her legs felt as if they
might collapse under her. But it didn’t matter. Sabrina, probably
with adrenaline coursing through her, seemed almost to carry her.

Her daddy had carried her like a sack of potatoes to the roof. Her
mother’s cries were in the background. “Drake, call the police.” Her voice was high-pitched. It didn’t sound like her mother. Her voice was like a cold blue wave through the air.

They were at the elevator now. “Don’t come any closer,” Sabrina said to the men, pushing the gun harder into Bella’s neck.

Bella heard a cry of pain. It was her own, she realized. She tried to breathe but it felt as if her windpipe was being crushed. Sabrina shoved her into the elevator and punched the rooftop button. They went up, first to the seventh floor, then the eighth and finally to the
button labeled Rooftop Terrace. The doors opened and Sabrina
dragged
her outside. It was raining; a puddle had formed where the floor dipped slightly and Bella stepped in it. Dampness soaked through her shoes and into her socks. Then they were on the edge of the building. There was a lip and a safety fence. Below, the news people
were pointing upward, perhaps calling out to one another.

Everything tilted and swirled. Bella sobbed. She had begged silently when he held her over the edge of the building.
No, no, no,
Daddy. I’ll be good. Please don’t drop me.

Sabrina’s voice near her ear was low and menacing. “You
wrecked
everything for me.” She pushed her against the cold metal of the
fence. “All I wanted was to drive that night. I never got one thing I wanted
because of you. I should be the star instead of a freak. And now you’re
going to give the crowd what they want. You’re going to jump, Tiffany.”

It was raining that day too. She screamed as he dangled her over
the crowd, “Mommy, mommy, mommy. Come save me,” and the
rain
had been in her mouth and the smell of her daddy’s musty and
smoke-infested clothes in her nose. Would she go to heaven to be with Jesus like her grandmother had? Would Grammie be there to greet her?

“Tiffany, climb up the fence, slide your legs over and I’ll just
give you a little push. It’ll be over so quickly.”

Bella heard shouting. Was it Drake? Had he come to rescue her? She slid her eyes to the noise. It was Peter and Fred. Below there was the sound of more sirens.

Sirens. The good guys were coming. They would rescue her so she wouldn’t have to go to heaven. She could stay with Mommy and Drake.

Peter’s voice reached her, loud but still coaxing. “Sabrina, let her go. We can talk things through. Work a deal.”

The gun was at her temple now. “Climb up the fence, Tiffany. That’s a good girl.” She said it like she was encouraging a child
down a slide. Bella grasped the top rung of the fence with both hands and put one foot onto the bottom rung. Could she push backward and knock her captor to the ground?

Drake had grabbed them both from behind and pulled them
both
to safety. Drake, her big brother. He always knew what to do. He
always came for her.

Kick the gun out of her hand.

Whose voice was this? It was a woman. Hushed but firm.
Mommy.

Do it suddenly. Act like you’re going over but suddenly change
direction and swing your leg out and knock the gun from her hand.

“Jump, Tiffany. You can do it.” Sabrina’s breath smelled of
alcohol and was sickly sweet from the orange juice.

Honey, you’re so strong now. Not like when you were little. You don’t have to be afraid any longer.

“Sabrina, put down the gun. We can talk this over.” Peter again. He sounded closer now.

Then, she thought,
Ben
. His laughing eyes. The way he always talked about her like she could do anything she wanted. How he turned every negative comment around on her to point out how
wonderful she was. And this was love, she thought, how the other person made you feel about yourself.

And Gennie. The sweetness of their friendship was an ache in
her chest.

And Annie and Alder. And the baby coming. The family she and
Drake both so desperately needed and wanted after Chloe and
Esther left them.

And Drake. Her brother who had and would do anything for
her.

Draw on that, Bella. You have so much to live for.

And her dreams. They were all within her grasp. If only she had the chance to pursue them. If she escaped this, she would stare fear
down.

She had both feet on the bottom rung now. Gripping the top railing with both hands, and using the strength of her core, all those planks and sit-ups over the years, like steel bands around her middle. She took in a deep breath and muttered, “Not today, bitch.”
She swung her left leg high and aimed toward the gun in Sabrina’s hands. It went off as it flew through the air, landing several feet from them. The force of the
kick caused Bella to fall forward, landing on all fours. By that time Peter and Fred were upon them. Peter tackled Sabrina to the ground while Fred held the gun on her. Behind them, another group of
armed police officers were coming up the stairs. Peter handed a subdued Sabrina over to them and came to help Bella to her feet.

“Peter, I got her to confess and it’s all on tape.” She pulled out her cell phone, shouting, the adrenaline continuing to rush through her body. “Do you see this? On record the whole time.”

He took the phone, shaking his head as if in disbelief. “Holy
crap, Bella, you ought to think about going into police work.”

“I’ve had just about enough of this line of work, thank you very
much. Plus, I have a business to start.” If she could face down a psychopath on the roof of a building, surely she could start the
business she’d dreamed of all her life.

“And a wedding to plan.”

She groaned and rolled her eyes. “Oh, God. The wedding. Is it
too late to jump?”

Peter laughed. “There’s something wrong with you. You know
that, right?”

She grinned. “Totally.” Letting out a yelp, she lunged towards
him
and hugged him quickly before stepping back and sweeping her
arms
in a wide circle to indicate the world around them. “Holy shit, it’s
great to be alive.”

“It most certainly is.”

***

Ben was waiting for her in the lodge’s lobby when she and Peter came out of the elevator. He held open his arms and she ran toward him, not caring that she probably looked like the last scene of a bad television movie. He pulled her up into his arms and held her tightly against his chest. “I didn’t know if you were going to make it,” he whispered in her ear.

“Come on, now. I’m small but scrappy. You know that.” She
looked into his eyes. “Is it time for wine yet?”

“I’d say you earned the good stuff tonight.”

In the car, they drove in silence, Bella holding Ben’s hand,
running her fingers through the soft hair on his forearm. Rain made a steady pitter patter on the roof and the windshield wipers swayed in a steady rhythm. The car’s heater was warm on her feet.

“Bella, are you sure you don’t want a wedding?”

She turned to look at him. “Why are you asking me?”

“Well, I just don’t want it to be my agenda. I was the one left at the proverbial altar, not you. You sure you don’t want a wedding?”

“I can think of nothing worse. All those people looking at us. And us dressed up in monkey suits.”

“I think it’s just the guy who wears a monkey suit.”

“Well, a dress then. Do you know how long it takes to find a
dress?
It’s like a month-long process and you have to go to all these pretentious shops and try on a zillion of them before you find one
decent one and then there are fittings and tuckings and other super boring stuff.”

“Tuckings?”

She waved her hand in a dismissive gesture, grinning.
“Whatever. You know what I mean.”

“But every girl wants to wear a wedding dress. Don’t they?” He
took his eyes from the road for an instant and she saw he was
earnest in
his question. Her heart fluttered and expanded. She turned to look
out the window. They were driving across the valley now. It was dark
with a few yellow lights of houses in the distant fields. “Ben, the
truth is I don’t want a wedding because my mother isn’t here. It hurts too much. Especially the finding the dress part.”

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed the knuckle of her index finger softly. “Sweetheart, I’m sorry.”

“The sad thing is I know Gennie wants to take me shopping for the dress and plan a shower and every detail of the wedding, like my mother would have. And I just want to marry you. Just us. Without anything I can attach pain to. Do you understand?”