Always Love a Villain on San Juan Island (40 page)

“I could buy that.”

“He's a matador, daring the bull. Large red cloak, dangling in front of him.
Susanna!
embroidered in black.”

“Okay, maybe. But if she's in the house the question is, why tease the bull?”

Kyra raised her eyebrows. “Let's go ask him.”

“He won't just talk to us again.”

“We'll just plow into the house.”

“What if he calls the Sheriff?”

“Then we'll know Susanna's not there. Frank knows we'd tell the Sheriff our suspicions, tell him about Frank's questions about Susanna. Frank's lies.”

“What if he's got a gun and orders us out?”

Kyra grinned. “I've got a gun too. Let's go.”

Noel's gut shriveled.

Something in Kyra had shifted to a new sense of getting it right. She felt the Smith and Wesson in her purse. She could control any situation. By herself. She'd have the baby by herself. No one she knew needed to help. She would not demean herself by asking Peter for a contribution. And she and Noel would remain the friends and work partners they were meant to be.

Susanna said she wanted to go outside. She hadn't seen daylight in a long time. He took the sandwich and carried it upstairs. They went out and stood on the back porch. “The light is wonderful,” she said. “And the air.”

For fifteen minutes they held each other, speaking little. He was wondering if he should change his mind, at least try to make love with her. But sex with her right now seemed like tempting the gods, whatever that meant. He had to get his mind off it. He said, “Don't you want your sandwich?”

She rubbed her forehead against his ribcage. “You're funny.”

“Doesn't answer my question.”

“I'll share it with you.”

“Okay,” he said, and let go of her. Something grated against his chest. He reached into the shirt pocket. A card. The detective. He stuck it back in.

“What's that?”

“Just a business card.” But suddenly an idea began frothing inside his head. He took a knife, cut the sandwich in two and presented her with the plate.

She bit into it. “Good.” She chewed and swallowed. “Thank you for all the food you've been preparing for me.”

“I'd like to do a lot more of that.”

She dropped her eyes and said, “And by the way, Fredric, I think I'm in love with you, too.”

A power of electricity shot through his chest. He must make this right. He the kidnapper, she the victim. Become equals. He needed them to remain equals. They had to get out of this, and sooner would be way better than any other time. And quickly. “Susanna, I have an idea.”

“About?”

“Ending this travesty I helped put together. You want to leave as soon as we can?”

“Yes!”

“Something happened this morning. Upstairs. It worried me then, but maybe it was fortuitous.” He told her about the two investigators. “My partner told me your father hired private detectives. These have to be the ones.” He pulled the card from his pocket again. “Islands Investigations International.”

The Honda turned right from Douglas onto Bailer Hill Road. On the back seat Noel's phone rang. “Grab my jacket back there and answer that.”

Kyra reached, her hand coming back with the jacket. “Hello?  . . . Yes, hello Mr. Leger . . . Talk with my partner and me, okay, about what? . . . I see . . . Of course we'll stop by again . . . Soon as we can, sure . . . See you.” She closed the phone. “He wants to talk about Susanna Rossini.”

“He say why?”

“Didn't ask. He sounded nervous; I didn't want to spook him.”

“Could be some kind of trap,” Noel said. “Let's be careful.” He accelerated. West Side Drive, past Dead Man's Bay, curving around to Mt. Dallas Road. Up the hill. He almost missed the green house on the left, backed up and wheeled down the drive halfway. Up the stoop to the door. Kyra rang.

Footsteps. The door opened, chain on. Frank's eyes checking them. More distraught than dangerous. The door closed and opened again without the chain.

Frank pulled it wide. “Come in.”

They walked down the hall. Living room as it was, chairs and sofa. Sitting in one of the chairs, a young woman with blond hair.

“Mr. Franklin, Ms. Rachel, this is Susanna Rossini.”

Kyra held out her hand. “We're certainly glad to see you, Susanna.”

“And I'm really glad you're here.”

Kyra, still holding Susanna's hand, said, “Are you all right?”

“Very all right.” She withdrew her hand.

Noel said, “You better begin at the beginning, Frank.”

“It's Fredric. Fredric St.-Ange.” And Fredric started with Raoul's dare:
man enough to snatch a pretty girl?
Susanna interjected several times, her point of view: how good Fredric had been to her all the way along. Fredric ended with Raoul's last phone call: no mutilation, no way. “Now, please, take Susanna to her father.”

“What about you?” Kyra asked. “Why shouldn't we just call the Sheriff?”

“Because,” Susanna interrupted, “he's not a kidnapper, really.”

“Susanna, you've been held prisoner for nearly three weeks.”

“True, but—see, Fredric's mostly a guard,” she smiled gently at him, “a kind of guardian for me.”

“Ms. Rossini,” Noel said, “it's often normal for somebody who's been kidnapped to develop affection for their captor. It even has a name—”

“Stockholm syndrome. I know what it is.” She stood. “This isn't it.” She walked to Fredric's side. He took her hand. “This is where both the captor and the captive fall in love. This is us.” She put her arm around his waist. “I can't blame Fredric for anything, or charge him with anything.”

“It's not you that lays a charge, Ms. Rossini, it's the state. It's a federal crime to participate in a kidnapping.”

“Look, Ms. Rachel, all we want is for you to take Susanna home. I want to disappear, and that's what she wants for me, too. I called you on my own; nobody forced me. Please, just take her home.”

Kyra said, “Noel? A word. You two stay right there.”

They both nodded.

Noel followed Kyra to the kitchen.

“Okay,” she said, “what're you thinking?”

“Our assignment was to find Susanna. Nobody wants us to track down any kidnappers. St.-Ange helped us locate her and he—”

“I think we'd have found her anyway. We were on our way here, remember?”

“But he simplified our job,” Noel insisted. “Nobody's been hurt, and she clearly wants to help him. Whether it's love or not. He was good to her while they held her.”

“So let him go, as he says?”

“I'd vote yes on that.”

Kyra said, “The Sheriff will want this guy Raoul and whoever the ringleader is. Fredric's the one to provide that information.”

“Does Fredric know who Raoul's boss is?”

“He knows Raoul.” She considered for a minute. “Look, let's do like this. Fredric tells us how the cops can find the man. Once they've got him, they'll make him give up the ringleader.”

“And we leave here without Fredric.”

“We do.”

“Okay, let's talk to them.” They returned to the living room. Fredric and Susanna were sitting together on the couch. Noel sat on a chair, as did Kyra. He said, “We don't want you, Mr. St.-Ange, but—”

To Noel: “Oh, thank you!” Susanna drew closer to Fredric. “Thank you,” she whispered to herself.

“But we do want Raoul. First of all, his full name.”

“Raoul LeJeune.”

“Where does he live?”

“Several cities. New York, Birmingham in England, Geneva, San Francisco.” Fredric gave them addresses.

“How do you contact him?”

“Mainly he contacts me. But—” he reached into his pocket and pulled out a cell phone, “I can reach him on this.” He handed the phone to Noel. “Contacts, then press number one.”

Noel took the phone. “Okay.” He stood. “Time to go. I suggest you leave soon, Mr. St.-Ange, because once we get Ms. Rossini to her father, we'll be going to the Sheriff, and he'll be coming to this house. Let's go, Ms. Rossini.”

Susanna and Fredric stood, held each other, kissed, broke apart. “I'll do everything possible to keep you from being charged,” she said.

“I love you,” he whispered to her. “I'll come to their car with you.” He took her hand and walked to the door. It stood ajar, clear sign that Susanna was no longer a captive. He stepped outside. A knife slashed through his shirt into his ribs. “Aaye-e-e!”

Now a hand in a glove pulled the knife out of Frederic's side and another hand grabbed Susanna around the waist, the knife suddenly at her throat. Fredric fell to the ground. Susanna tried to scream but a voice by her ear whispered, “Shut up or I'll slice your windpipe open.” The man pulled her backward, away from the house.

Noel, first out after Susanna, knelt beside Fredric and yelled, “Kyra! He's got a knife on Susanna!” Fredric was bleeding heavily. Noel pulled off his own shirt, balled it up and tried to tamp Fredric's wound.

Kyra danced over them, revolver in hand. “You! You with the mask! Let go of her!” She stepped off the stoop toward a man in a ski mask pulling Susanna along.

“Stay there, lady, or I cut her throat.”

“You cut her throat and you won't have a hostage. Let her go!”

But he had already reached his car, stopped directly behind Noel's Honda but facing the road. He whispered to Susanna, “You're getting behind the wheel and you're going to drive. The knife's going to be at your ribs the whole time.”

Bad news, thought Kyra. She saw his game plan as clearly as if she'd heard him speak. His head and chest were protected by Susanna. One possibility. She aimed as she'd been taught, and fired.

A look of surprise on the man's face. He dropped the knife, let go of Susanna's waist and grabbed his right knee. His foot collapsed and he fell to the ground. Susanna jumped away, picked up the knife and ran toward Noel and Fredric. Noel shouted, “Phone 911, two men wounded, need Sheriff and paramedics!”

Passport and boarding pass in hand, Dr. Celeste-Antoinette deBourg stood up the moment she heard the boarding call for business-class passengers. She walked toward the gate, rolling her carry-on behind her. She was fourth in line.

“Hello, Toni.”

She jumped at the sound of her name. She turned. “Larry?” Larry. And another man wearing a lightweight brown suit. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you off. A shame, since you're not leaving.”

Her face blanched under her makeup. “What are you talking about?”

“Raoul LeJeune. He told us everything.”

“Whatever he told you, he was lying. He always lies.”

“I don't think so. He was too afraid of losing more blood and dying.”

A flash of concern. “Will he die?” A man and a woman now, one on each side.