Judgement By Fire (27 page)

“I need to
contact Warren Dillon immediately,” he snapped, then seeing the query in her
eyes, softened his voice, but added firmly, “No questions, Cathy.”

But she was
already at her desk, fingers flying over the telephone console as her boss’s
urgency communicated itself to her. Resting the telephone receiver between chin
and shoulder, she pushed a wad of pink telephone message slips at him, but Jon
waved them away.

“Just give me a
run down on who called,” he asked.

She reeled off a
list of business contacts and other Rush Co. executives who wanted to hear from
Rush, and added that Chief Ohmer, Jon’s housekeeper Mary Wilson, and Lauren
Stephens had all asked for him to call them back.

“I’m sorry,
Jon,” Cathy concluded, “Mr. Dillon’s secretary says he’s out and not expected
back today, and I tried his mobile, but there’s no answer. I left messages for
him to call back immediately. Now, which one of the calls do you want to
return?”

Jon silently
blessed the woman for her cool professionalism, and asked her to contact
Lauren, Ohmer and to try his cousin Stephen’s numbers, in that order. Too wired
to sit at his desk, Jon paced the deep gray carpet of his office as he listened
to Cathy work the telephone. Deep in thought, he jumped as she poked her head
in through the door.

“You okay,
Boss?” she asked, concern in her voice.

“Just get the
calls, Cathy…”

“Well, I’d like
to, but there’s no answer from Miss Stephens or from Mr. Rush, and Chief Ohmer
is apparently out on an emergency—a multiple pile-up on the 401.”

Goddammit!

“Okay, give me a
few minutes – maybe you’d try the Stephen’s number again and also Warren
Dillon? And get me another company cell phone, will you?”

A short time
later Cathy came back with the phone and carrying a ham and cheese sandwich and
a mug of strong coffee on a small tray.

“You looked like
you could use this,” she said. “And there’s still no reply from any of the
numbers. Is there anything I should know? Are we likely to get calls I need to
field?”

Jon took a deep
breath. How could he explain his fears to this quiet, efficient woman?  Telling
her to simply continue taking messages and to forward immediately anything from
Dillon, the police chief, Lauren or Stephen, he gulped down the last of the
coffee and snatched up his jacket.

“Just one thing,
Jon,” Cathy touched his arm to detain him. “I thought I’d have the operator do
a line check on the Stephens’ number. You know my folks have a cottage up there
and it’s amazing how often the lines go down. Anyway, the operator says all
lines are functioning normally. But the Stephens’ residential number seems to
be off the hook or disconnected.”

Fear curled icy
fingers over Jon’s gut as he absorbed her words, then he dashed from the room,
commandeering the executive suite elevator from under the amazed noses of
several other executive officers, and drummed his fingers with impatience as
the elevator car seemed to creep down the twenty-six floors to the basement
garage.

Minutes later,
he was gunning a big company four-wheel drive Jeep through the heavy traffic of
a late Toronto afternoon, skillfully weaving in and out of the home-going
commuter traffic. Frequently risky moves earned him a blast of horns and rude
finger gestures from other drivers, but he was oblivious to all that was going
on around him. Cathy had put through a call from Chief Ohmer to his cell phone,
and when the officer heard Jon’s discoveries at Rush Co., told him that he was
sending a car immediately to protect Lauren. However, there was still no answer
on Lauren’s number. Jon had toyed with the idea of calling Paul Howard, but
assumed the older man would be at the ABC committee meeting. He also had a gut
feeling of terrible danger and didn’t want to involve the lawyer or his fragile
wife in whatever might transpire.

Now Jon had only
one thought in his mind. He must get to Lauren—before it was too late. His
stomach clenched again and adrenaline shot through his veins, accelerating his
heartbeat as his hands tightened on the steering wheel.

Lauren fought
against consciousness. She didn’t want to open her eyes; she wanted to recede
back into that abyss where there was no feeling. But consciousness was
insistent. Her whole body seemed a mass of pain, her arms and wrists
especially, and her previously injured shoulder was now cramped in fiery
protest. Something was nagging at her, a busy itch in her mind that insisted
she face it. Then a glass was pressed against her lips and water, cool and
soothing, tipped in a thin rivulet down her throat. A soft damp cloth wiped
gently over her forehead and cheek, and she instinctively raised her face
towards its comforting coolness. Too soon, it was jerked away, and Lauren
finally opened her eyes to see Steve’s dark figure crouched over her.

“Ah, Lauren,
even now you’re so beautiful. We could have had so much together, you know.
With you at my side, I know I could have made things work. But like everyone
else, you betrayed me.” His voice was quiet and calm, but there was no
mistaking the insanity which danced in his eyes and spilled from his lips.

Lauren looked
around her, dazed. She was slumped against the heavy oak baluster at the bottom
of the stairs, her arms wrapped around it and handcuffed tightly together at
the wrist. Her mind flashed to the protesters who tied themselves to trees to
prevent the loggers’ progress, but shook her head then to clear it.

“Steve—I don’t
understand. Why are you doing this?” she managed, her voice a croak. “How can
you say that I betrayed you? Just because I said I couldn’t go to dinner…” Her
words were cut off in a sobbing gasp as he slapped a vicious hand against her
face.

“Shut the hell
up, Lauren! You flaunted yourself at me, but then my cousin crooked his finger
and you thought he was the better target. You thought he was richer and more
powerful, could give you what you wanted—wealth and power! Isn’t that what
women like you sell themselves for?”

There it was;
the scrap of information that had itched at her mind.

Swallowing over
the pain, Lauren gasped out, “Your cousin? I don’t know your cousin, Steve.”

His smile was
ugly, brutal, as he ground out, “Jon Rush, president of Rush Co., is my cousin.
Wallace was my mother’s maiden name.”

Lauren’s mind
reeled. Jon! This was the connection, the missing piece! Through the fog of
pain that clogged her brain, one thought beckoned like a light in a window on a
stormy night. If she could keep this man talking, maybe she could find some way
out of this. She had to find some way to stay alive long enough to warn Jon.
Because Lauren knew now that Steve wouldn’t stop with killing her. Some mad
plan had been set in motion and would only end when all the players were dead.
She shuddered, the movement causing pain from cramped, bruised muscles to shoot
through her, leaving her gasping. When she could speak again, she caught Steve’s
eye.

“But I still
don’t understand why you’re doing this. What has Jon done to hurt you?” She
fought now against a wave of faintness that threatened to swamp her and wash
her back into that dark abyss from which she had emerged so reluctantly. Yet
this time, she knew if she slipped into the darkness, she would never return.

“I know you’re
playing for time, but it will do you no good. All your artsy-fartsy friends are
going to the committee meeting, aren’t they? And your lover-boy is in Toronto,
trying to save his precious company.” Steve’s mouth was smiling, but his eyes
were icy with hatred.

“Someone will
come around, Steve – or should I call you Stephen? If I’m not at the meeting.
So many things have been happening and people will worry. Why don’t you undo
these handcuffs, let’s talk, and see if we can work this out? Whatever there is
between Jon and I, it isn’t something I went looking for; you must understand
that. I enjoyed the time you and I spent together and when I said I couldn’t
see you because I was too busy, that was the honest truth.

“I didn’t meet
Jon until after that, at the first public meeting. If I’ve hurt you, I am
really sorry.” She spoke softly, half expecting another savage blow from this
unpredictable man.

It didn’t come.
For a second, violence flashed across his face and was gone, replaced by
something akin to sorrow. Despite her predicament, Lauren was touched by an
unexpected compassion that welled up in her breast for this man who was so
obviously causing hurt out of his own deep pain.

“I can’t do
that, Lauren. Don’t you see? It’s all too late. I’ve done everything wrong. My
father told me I’d never be any good, and he was right.” Tears ran in slim
rivulets down Stephen’s cheeks, and he wiped them away with an impatient hand.
“My father was a great wildcatter, one of the best, but he had no head for
business. When they made the first really good strike, back in the fifties, his
brother—Jon’s father—cheated my father out of his shares of the property. Dad
realized too late what had happened, and he got to drinking.

“My mother—you’d
have liked her. She was a beautiful, gentle creature, but she couldn’t take the
hard life of never having enough and she died when I was just nine years old.
Dad died a few years later and when I was twelve, and I was sent to live on my
Uncle’s charity.”

Bitterness
twisted Stephen’s handsome features at the memory of past wrongs. “Oh, he
treated me well enough, I suppose. He always claimed he raised Jon and me like
we were brothers but it was never really the same. I knew I was there on
sufferance, that I was second-best after his real flesh and blood son. After
Jon left to live with his mother in the States, I thought it would be better. I
thought Uncle Jon would turn to me, take me to his heart as the son who hadn’t
deserted him.

“Instead, he
buried himself in the business, and at night he’d sit in his study and drink.
The only time he seemed to come alive was when Jon came back for one of his
brief visits, looking for a handout. When Jon went in the army, it just about
killed him, but still everything was Jon this, and Jon that.” Stephen was
silent, staring inwards to some long past emotion.

“Then Jon
inherited everything, all the money and the power of Rush Co., while I got a
few hundred thousand and a job—a
job
—at Rush Co. The company I should
have owned. I tried, Lauren, I really did. I did the best work I could but I
knew everyone sneered behind my back, laughing, saying that I was really only
there because Jon had promised his father he’d take care of me.”

“After a while,
the humiliation got to be too much, and I decided to claim some of the money I
was owed. It was so easy. I set up my own company, investing in land here and
there, getting building projects under way and having Rush Co. foot the bill. But
like everything I touched, it started to go wrong. Not because of anything I
did - the economy took a nose dive and I was left with unfinished, unsold
buildings and land that had lost its value. All of it beyond my control, none
of it my fault, but Jon was still there in his ivory tower, having people
fawning over him and raking in the dough. That’s when I really started to hate
him and I thought I’d cause a few little ‘incidents’ at Rush Co., let him feel
what it was like to not be in total control.”

“But then that
clever bitch Pippa Williams poked her nose in where it didn’t belong. I knew
everything was over when I overheard her on the office phone, asking to see
Warren Dillon on an urgent matter.”

“There’s still
time to stop, Stephen.”

He looked at
her, his expression incredulous. “I’m not going to jail.”

“Maybe, but only
for a little while. Then you could start all over again…”

“Like my father
tried to start all over again? With nothing but the shirt on his back? Oh, I
don’t think so, Lauren.  Besides, I wouldn’t survive two minutes in jail. No,
no,” he shook his head, his expression sad. “Everything has been set in motion,
and I’m going to see it through.”

Pulling a mobile
phone from his pocket, Stephen deftly dialed and listened for a moment to the
ringing tone. Holding the phone to Lauren’s mouth, he told her: “When Jon
answers, tell him you have to see him. Tell him to come here immediately!”

“Go to hell!”
Lauren flashed back, and saw Stephen’s hand rise in anger to slap her again.
Just then, the telephone was answered and Jon’s beloved voice spilled into the
room.

“Jon
—
it’s
Lauren.
Stay
away from here, Jon—your cousin Stephen—Oh!” her words cut off in a cry of pain
as Stephen grabbed a handful of her hair, yanking her head back painfully.

“Stephen—Stephen,
if you’re there—don’t hurt her!” Jon was shouting down the telephone line, his
heart pounding at the desperation he’d heard in Lauren’s voice and the terrible
sound of her pain as the words cut off.

*
* *

He heard
Lauren’s desperate cries and then the line went dead as the other phone was
closed down. Jon desperately juggled the steering wheel as he tried to dial
Stephen’s number with fingers gone clumsy in panic. But there was only the
forlorn sound of an unanswered ringing phone, and then a stranger’s officious
voice invited him to leave a message.