Carnal Vengeance (38 page)

Holly made a face at the picture Rachel created, then noticed that she was the only one bothered by it. She supposed Rachel was used to this sort of thing, but April and Bobbi looked as though they'd heard it all before. Had this entire "get-together" been staged for her benefit?

"Since both murders occurred in the same part of the country," Rachel continued, "the investigative team began searching for women in that region who have criminal histories of violence against men. Once we've narrowed down the field of possibles and start questioning the suspects, we'll know better whether we're on the right track."

"It's not known yet why Ziegler and O'Day were chosen as victims. If one of the female suspects saw the list of names Cheryl gave to the Senate committee, we haven't figured out how it got into her hands, but anything is possible."

"At the moment, we're trying to keep a lid on what the possible connection between Ziegler and O'Day could be, but agents may soon be assigned to guard the other eight men on the list until the killer is found. The problem with that is, once they all start talking, someone is liable to remember the names of other women besides Cheryl who were victimized."

"Well, then," April said, "let's hope this whole thing is solved in a few days and we can
all
stop worrying."

Holly wanted to be relieved of that worry desperately enough so that she told herself that she believed April and that none of the Little Sisters was a murderess. But she couldn't ignore the feeling that they weren't completely innocent either.

Her anxiety over David's condition took precedence over all else, however, and as soon as Rachel finished her update, Holly intended to leave.

Bobbi spoke before she could do so. "As long as we're together, I have some positive news. Adam Frankowicz is back in New York. It may take a little while to do any damage, but I've initiated action against him for tax evasion. I guarantee you he'll be a lot poorer by this time next year."

Finally, Holly simply excused herself to make a call. A few minutes later she had reservations on a flight to Miami out of Washington, D.C.'s, National Airport that afternoon. She could make it if she hurried.

Retrieving her bag from the upstairs bedroom, she couldn't help but think about the woman secluding herself up in the attic. Part of Holly wanted to go up and try to talk to Cheryl, tell her she understood firsthand how she felt. The more logical side of her brain argued that she couldn't spare the time, and besides, April was much more qualified than she. Her interference might do more harm than good.

Holly had been looking forward to spending more time with April, but now all she could think of was how fast she could get away.

She made the proper apologies and promised to come back another weekend, inching her way toward the front door with each word. Just as it looked like she would be free to depart, Rachel offered to "see her to her car."

"I just wanted to make sure you didn't get the wrong impression in there," Rachel said as Holly unlocked her car door and placed her bag in the back seat.

Holly assumed she was trying to apologize for suggesting
she
could be the killer. Her assumption was wrong.

"I didn't want to bring you into the Society. And I don't trust you. Whether your joining us right before Ziegler was murdered is relevant or not, I think you're trouble. As long as you keep your mouth shut, I'll leave you alone, but if you say anything to anybody about us, I promise you, I'll turn this case around on you so fast you won't have time to take a piss. And just so you understand that I'm perfectly capable of proving you're the killer, no matter how innocent you are, I'm going to let you in on another secret."

Holly tucked her hands beneath her arms in a defensive manner that hid how badly she was trembling. She wanted to drive as far and fast as possible, but she also wanted to hear the secret.

Rachel moved close enough for Holly to smell alcohol on her breath. "April needs to believe that all of us have obeyed the rules she set down for going after the fifteen men, and we let her have that consolation. But the truth is, there have been times when one or two of us have had to bend the rules to break the man."

Holly sifted through the implied confession until she began to understand.

"Think about it," Rachel said and walked back to the house.

Holly thought about it all the way to Washington, but it only took the first few seconds to figure out what Rachel meant. If Rachel wanted to, she could fabricate proof of someone's guilt or destroy evidence of a person's innocence, in the same way the snuff film had been eliminated. Bobbi could do the same through the IRS. And surely, with the computer wizard's help, Erica could play havoc with a company's market value and create any number of difficulties for its owner.

That
was the secret they were hoarding so carefully. She recalled Bobbi mentioning that she could lose her job. It would be a wonder if she didn't end up in jail if she had done something unethical regarding any of the men's tax returns.

Rachel could be planning to ensure that one of the women suspects was arrested, or she could just as easily make it look like Holly was the guilty party. Of course, there was the possibility that one of the suspects was the killer, but Holly wasn't at all certain. In her mind, Rachel was still the likeliest candidate. She had the motive, means and personality, and if she didn't commit the crimes, she could very likely be protecting the real murderess—particularly if it was Erica.

Just because Rachel said Erica was in California when O'Day was killed didn't mean it was any more the truth than her claim that the two of them and Bobbi had been together when Ziegler was killed. But would Bobbi agree to a lie that would protect Erica?

Yes, Holly thought instantly, Bobbi would lie if it meant creating an alibi for herself at the same time. Hadn't
she
briefly considered lying to protect herself just a short time ago?

Bobbi's visit to her apartment replayed in Holly's memory. Wasn't it possible that she was pretending to hate Erica? She was certainly capable of projecting extremely different personalities in the blink of an eye. Couldn't Bobbi have been hiding her own guilt by pointing a finger at Erica?

As Holly contemplated one scenario after another, she realized all three were perfectly capable of performing the mutilation that had been done to the two men.

Then again, perhaps they could provide each other with an alibi for the night Ziegler was killed because they
were
together... in his hotel room.

So far, Bobbi and Rachel had both threatened her. Would Erica be next?

She should go to the police. Yet, what proof did she have? She had no doubt that Rachel would find a way for her story to backfire. It was doubtful that anyone at the lodge in Maryland would swear to seeing her the night O'Day was killed, so without David, she had no solid alibi for that time.

Even Philip had advised her to do nothing, and that was clearly the safest path to take. But suddenly she was sick to death of the safe path. She was tired of being afraid of everything, including her own feelings.

She had been a victim once, and she had allowed it to haunt her for twenty-one years.

No one was going to force her to be a victim again!

Holly's foot pressed harder on the accelerator. She had to get to David. He had to regain consciousness.

He was the only one she could think of who could expose the whole ugly truth and find out who the killer was before she found herself hopelessly entrapped.

It occurred to her that she would have to confess to telling David a few lies in the past, but surely he would understand.

Chapter 19

Holly felt as though she had been pushing her way through quicksand for the last six hours. Surely traffic to the Keys after the hurricane had moved faster than that heading for National Airport. And how had the plane stayed up in the air at the slow speed it flew? In spite of a non-English-speaking cabdriver who must have thought she'd enjoy the scenic route through Miami, Holly finally reached the hospital before the sun fully set.

Her frustration reached a dangerous level when the nurse behind the desk in the intensive care unit told her she couldn't release any information on David Wells and he wasn't permitted any visitors.

Desperation enabled Holly to improvise. "But I'm his sister. I've been traveling all day to get here."

The nurse's face lost some of its sternness. "Oh, that's different. What's your name?"

Holly frantically sifted through the stories David had told her. "Jill. Jill Wells."

The nurse ran her finger down a list on her desk. "Oh, yes. Here you are. I wasn't told to expect any of his family today. Mr. Wells has been moved to a private room. I don't believe he has regained consciousness, but he
is
in stable condition. Holly listened to the directions to get to David's room, but her mind was analyzing what the nurse had said. Most important was the fact that he was no longer in intensive care. That had to be a good sign. But why wasn't any family expected to visit? The way David described them, they were extremely close—not at all the types to stay home if their brother was seriously injured.

The uniformed police officer sitting in front of the closed door to David's room smiled broadly and rose as Holly approached. Hoping the same ploy would get her past another obstacle, she smiled back and said, "I'm Jill Wells, David's sister. Nurse Johnson said that it would be all right for me to see him."

The officer picked up a clipboard from behind the chair and scanned a sheet of paper similar to the one the nurse had checked. Giving her another smile, he knocked three times on the door.

"What now?"

Holly blinked at the strength of the irritated voice. It was David, but he didn't sound like someone who had been at death's door a few hours ago. And he was very definitely
not
unconscious.

The officer pushed open the door, but held up a hand to keep Holly from proceeding before he announced her. "There's a woman here to see you. Says she's your sister, Jill."

"Jill?
No kidding. Let her in."

The officer stepped aside to let Holly enter. Her eyes widened in shock as she saw David striding toward her, looking extremely healthy except for the white mound of bandages taped onto the left side of his head.

"Honey, you were told not to—" He halted the moment he saw Holly and his welcoming grin turned to a sneer of contempt so quickly that she turned around to see if someone else had entered the room behind her.

"Thank you, Officer," he said, then waited until the door was closed again before speaking to Holly. "What the hell are you doing here?"

She had been worried sick, had run herself into the ground trying to get to him and he barked at her as if she were his worst enemy. "I—I heard you were critically wounded in a shoot-out. David, I don't understand. I thought you might be dying." She set her bag on the floor and crossed her arms over her stomach, as if that could stop it from churning.

"Oh? And I guess I'm supposed to believe you came flying to my side because you really cared one way or the other?"

Wrinkling her forehead in confusion, Holly wondered if his head injury had altered his mind in some way. "David, please, you're frightening me."

"You can cut the act, lady. I know exactly what you're here for. I realize it took me awhile, but then you
are
one hell of a distraction."

He turned his back on her, walked to a chair behind a desk in the corner, sat down and started tapping away on his laptop computer. If he had suffered brain damage, would he have been able to arrange for a private hospital room to be partially converted into an office so that he could keep writing while he recuperated? Something was very wrong here.

"You may as well leave," he said without taking his eyes off the screen. "You can find out whatever you want to know by reading my story... just like everybody else. And, by the way, a favor for old times' sake—please don't spread around the fact that I'm alive and well just yet."

As if walking on eggshells, she crossed the room to him. "I didn't come this far to be sent away like a naughty child. At least tell me why you're acting like this."

He stopped typing and glared up at her, but didn't move. "Fine. I'll spell it out. I received some very enlightening information a few hours ago. Let's see how many clues you need to guess what I found out. Dominion University."

Holly's chest rose with the sharp intake of her breath.

David's voice was mocking as he praised her. "Aah. Not bad. Only one clue. In case you're interested, some of the other clues were twenty and twenty-one years ago, Cheryl Wallace, Erica Donner, Rachel Greenley, Timothy Ziegler, Billy O'Day, and last but not least, Jerry Frampton." He smirked at her and pointed to the chair on the other side of the desk. "You'd better sit down before you fall down. You look worse than I feel."

She did as he suggested rather than running out the door as she was tempted to do. "I wanted to explain before you left, but you—"

"Don't give me that shit," he snarled, slamming his hand on the desk. Wincing, he placed his hand over his injury as if the impact had run straight up his arm to his head. "We were together the whole fucking weekend before I left. How much more time did you need?"