Slow Burn (41 page)

Once again, Ron glanced at his watch, then
swiped his credit card and reached for the in-flight phone.

“She’s gone, Ron,” Kenny said without a
preamble. “I missed her by five minutes.”

Ron felt pressure in his chest. “Did she use
the taxi that brought her from the airport?” They could locate the
dispatch and find out where she was headed.

“According to the guard, she came home,
changed and left in her car.”

Ron smothered a curse. “She probably went to
one of her cousins.”

“Her cousin could track her down. I’ll give
him a call. Oh, one of my guys is waiting for you at the terminal.
He’s in a black SUV.” He gave him the plate number.

“Thanks. I’ll call you back in a few
minutes.”

After several more calls, the flight
attendant stopped by his seat. “Sir, the captain asked for
passengers to stop the use of all electronic devices, including
in-flight phones. We’re preparing to descend.”

He nodded at the woman and continued talking
on the phone. “Your men are still keeping an eye on my mother,
right?”

“She’s at home since this morning. No one’s
left the compound except for her assistant who—”

“Sir,” the flight attendant repeated. “Put
the phone back.”

“Left in a red Camry,” Kenny finished before
the woman snatched the phone from Ron’s hand and pushed it back in
the cradle. She glared at him then marched off.

Ron leaned back against his seat and closed
his eyes. He couldn’t rest until he knew Ashley was safe. At least
he didn’t need to worry about his mother.

***

Ashley pulled up beside a red Camry and
looked around. Where were Nina’s limo and the driver? Or had they
used the Camry? Ashley’s attention shifted to Carlyle House.

The pictures on the Internet hadn’t done it
justice. For years she couldn’t bring herself to come here. She had
driven past it, kept tabs on who rented it, but she’d lacked the
guts to walk to its doors. The nuns of Marist Sisters, who lived in
the house the past seven years, had done a good job of taking care
of the place. But despite the majestic silhouette of the house
against the darkening skies and the well-tended flower beds
illuminated by the downstairs windows, there was an aura of menace
about the place. A chill skittered across her flesh, and she
shivered.

Get a grip and get it over with. It’s just
a house.
One she no longer wanted. The house had brought her
nothing but grief. Her parents’ dream would be accomplished
elsewhere.

Ashley hoisted her bag onto her shoulder and
stepped out of her car. She closed her car door without locking it,
rubbing her arms to ward off the chill as she walked to the front
stairs. Her eyes darted around, surprised by how unchanged
everything was. The windows and the door were exactly like they
were ten years ago. At any moment, she expected to hear her
mother’s voice urging her to hurry.

She hurried up the stairs, noting that the
front door was cracked open. She hesitated for a brief moment then
pushed it open. It swung inward, its hinges creaking. Something
cold crawled up her spine.

“Mrs. Noble?” she called out and gave the
two-story foyer a sweeping glance. The walls were a different color
but everything else was like she recalled in her hypnosis
session—the grand stairs, the doors leading to various rooms, the
hallways disappearing to nowhere.

To her immediate right was the door to the
first floor bathroom, a blank wall separating it from the basement
door. Ashley froze, her breath catching in her throat. Superimposed
on the blank wall was her memory of the gilt and silver art deco
mirror with her mother’s face reflected in it. She blinked and the
image disappeared. Another shiver raked her body.

“Mrs. Noble.” She angled her head to listen.
Muffled sounds of laughter came from behind the door to her left,
then ebbed. Heart pounding, Ashley whipped around to look.

The door was closed, the room that was once
the manager’s office dark. Ten years ago, she’d sat in there and
watched cartoons while her parents went to the basement for their
meeting. She could have sworn she’d just heard the same TV program
she’d watched that night.

Oh, God, she
was
losing it. Earlier,
it had seemed like a good idea to make this meeting and throw
Nina’s offer in her face. Now she just wanted to get the hell out
of there.

Eyes wide, Ashley tried one last time. “Mrs.
Noble, where are you?”

Muffled thuds filtered through the narrow
opening on the basement door. She headed that way, nudged the door
wider and peered inside. The lights were on downstairs, but not the
short corridor. Weird. She groped the wall for the light switch and
flicked it up.

One lone bulb lit up the narrow hallway with
a crackling sound, flickered off and on as though on its last leg.
Or someone loosened it,
an inner voice added. Ashley
swallowed, hating her overactive imagination for kicking in now. A
jazz tune mingled with soft laughter. Someone called out her name.
Her mother? Gasping, Ashley looked around. There was no one, just
the dull-brown carpet that seemed out of place and bare walls.
Superimposed on them were colorful pictures of blues and jazz
musicians, actors and artists, wall ornaments and a lush burgundy
carpet.

They’re just memories from another time,
Ashley.

She moved toward the basement stairs. Just
before she took the first step, a smothered curse came from behind
her. She froze then turned her head to look. Her heart leaped to
her throat. A man dressed in all black stood in the doorway, his
broad shoulders blocking the light from the foyer.

She stepped back, fear pulsing through her
nerves like a giant wave. The faulty bulb flickered on and lit his
face. She gasped, her knees almost giving out from under her. “What
are you doing here?”

CHAPTER 21

“I could ask you the same question,” Vaughn
Doyle snarled.

Ashley’s knees knocked and her hands began to
sweat, but her mind raced. When Vaughn looked over his shoulder as
though searching for someone, she said, “I’m not alone. Ron and
Kenny are on their way.”

“Good. Now get out of here.”

He was letting her go? “Why? Where’s Mrs.
Noble? What have you done with her?”

“Me? Nothing. I was searching for her when I
heard you down here.” He reached for her arm, but Ashley took a
side step, panic pitching through her. “Whoever lured you and Nina
is still here, Ashley. Leave right now.”

“Why should I believe anything you say?”
Ashley shuffled backward, her hand dipping inside her bag for her
mace gel pepper spray. She took another step back just as her
fingers closed around the smooth exterior of the canister. “You’re
a Doyle.”

“And that’s my curse to bear,” he muttered.
Instead of following her, he stepped into the foyer and lifted his
hands. “I’m not here to harm Nina. I’m here to stop this
madness.”

Ashley blinked. “Stop what madness?”

“I don’t have time to explain,” he said
through gritted teeth. “I’m stepping back to show you I’m not your
enemy, Ashley.”

Was this some sort of a trick? Even as she
asked herself the question, she picked on a few anomalies. He
sounded frustrated, not ominous, and he kept looking around in fear
as though he expected someone to jump him.

“What’s going on, Vaughn? Why are you acting
so weird?”

“For the same reason I sent the Nobles those
letters. I want the truth out. You and Nina are the only witnesses
left, and I will not let them get rid of you, too. Without your
testimonies, my father and Frankie will go unpunished.”

Ashley’s jaw dropped.

“Go,” he snapped again.

“You sent the letters? Why?”

“Christ, Ashley. Don’t you get it? You’re in
danger. I tried to warn you outside the hospital, but Frankie was
there. I hoped to do it again this morning, but you were gone by
the time I got to the museum. I must find Nina before this place
explodes. This is
not
the time for questions.”

Explodes? The desperate urgency in his tone
lit a fire under Ashley’s heels. She lurched forward. “What about
you? They’ll kill you if they find out you helped us.”

“After what they did to my mother, I’ll see
them hung—”

A loud thud cut off his speech, causing
Ashley to freeze. She stared at Vaughn in horror as he rocked on
his feet, his eyes rolling in the back of his head. She didn’t
notice the shorter man standing behind him with a baseball bat,
until Vaughn keeled over. Her eyes widened, her mouth opened in a
silent scream as Vaughn’s body slammed into her and took her down
with him.

Ashley kicked and wiggled to get her lower
body from under the dead weight, her eyes on the man she last saw
acting as Vaughn’s driver. Frankie Higgins. He rested the bat on
his shoulder, a blood-curdling smirk on his thin lips.

“I tried to tell Doyle the boy couldn’t be
trusted, but did he listen to me? No. As soon I heard he was
talking to you outside their home, I suspected he was up to no
good. I got my proof when he talked to you outside the hospital,
but Doyle still refused to listen. After years of loyalty and
friendship, he chose to believe this ungrateful pup.” He kicked the
unconscious Vaughn. “After all I did for him, he turned against me
because of this idiot and that bitch Nina. If I hadn’t bugged his
home, I would never have known he planned to report me to the
police. Now he’ll know who the smarter one is. I will take
everything he’s ever loved and wanted, starting with this one.” He
kicked Vaughn again.

Ashley cringed as the body rocked on top of
her. She wiggled some more to free her legs, which were growing
numb fast.

“A
little birdie
told him his father
had killed his mother. It was only a joke, so he wouldn’t get too
comfortable as Doyle’s heir. But he had to go and do something this
stupid. He didn’t even have the balls to investigate by himself.”
He zeroed on Vaughn’s ribs and side, the thuds sickening and loud
in the quiet building.

“Leave him alone, you sick bastard,” Ashley
yelled. “He’s just a kid.”

“At twenty-two, he’s a grown man.” Frankie
grinned, showing yellowed rows of teeth, and aimed another kick.
Spasms of pain shot up Ashley’s leg when the tips of his boots
connected with her calf. She ground her teeth to stop herself from
crying out. He laughed. A chill snaked up her spine at the pure
evil of the sound.

“You know what’s even more hilarious.” He
chuckled with glee. “His bitch of a mother isn’t dead yet. I’d
looked forward to finishing her off, but Doyle insisted on stashing
her at a Mexican crazy house. I told him there were other ways of
making someone suffer, but he had to do things his way. Three long
years of listening to him whine about how she deserves to rot in
hell. Her hell is about to begin. I’ll leave her for last.”

Ashley swallowed. She was dealing with a mad
man. When he put his bat under his armpit and leaned toward her,
the malicious grin still on his mouth, she cringed. She pressed her
back against the floor, the pulse in her throat and at her temples
leaping.

“You and that bitch downstairs will be first.
Nina Noble.” Spittle flew from his mouth. “I could never understand
what Doyle saw in her. There were too many willing women he could
have had, but he had to be fixated on that dried-up bitch. I could
have finished her ten years ago when she lied to his face instead
of agreeing to marry him. When she did it again last night, I knew
I had to get rid of her. Women manipulate and tease, and Nina is an
expert at both. I’m going to enjoy watching her squirm.”

Ashley’s stomach sunk as Frankie continued to
insult Nina, but she refused to die in the same house where her
parents died and at the hands of the same man. She shoved at
Vaughn’s body with her hands and her hips, the feeling in her legs
gone. Frankie extended a hand toward her and Ashley’s breath froze
in her lungs. Was he going to hurt her? Blood drained from her head
at the thought, leaving her light-headed.

Frankie’s eyes flashed as though he could
read her helplessness on her face. He gripped her chin and pulled
it toward him, his fingers digging into her flesh. “I’d advise you
against trying anything stupid, missy. I forgave you ten years ago
for all the trouble you put me through because you were only a kid.
I hoped you’d die along with your parents, but Boy Scout Noble
foiled my plans. May he rot in hell. So play nice or I’ll make your
death slow and painful.”

Why was he calling Ron’s father a boy scout?
An image of a hand grabbing her mother’s face flashed in Ashley’s
head, then disappeared. She jerked back and her elbow scraped on
the hard floor. The sting shot up her arm, bringing with it more
visions from her past—her father’s body slumped on the couch, her
mother struggling, kicking and reaching for the face of her
assailant. Frankie’s face superimposed on the man’s, then the
images disappeared.

“You killed my parents,” Ashley said in a
voice she hardly recognized, fear and hatred colliding inside of
her.

“It’s not my fault they got in the way. This
house would have been a pile of ashes if it weren’t for them.”
Frankie pinched her chin then let go of her face with a rough
shove.

More memories rushed back—the terrified
expression on her mother’s face; a bleeding gash on Frankie’s
cheek, his mouth twisted in a snarl as he smothered her mother’s
face with a towel. Ashley sobbed out a breath, tears pooling in her
eyes.

“You and your firefighter friends murdered
them in cold blood,” Ashley added in a hoarse voice. “Why couldn’t
you just let them leave?”

“Because they would have owned this,” he
indicated the house, “or rebuilt it once we torched it. Doyle was
too chicken to do something about them. He asked me to take care of
the house once they left, but they had to die. He just didn’t
understand why they had to die, just like he doesn’t understand why
you and Nina must too. You always tie all the loose ends, or they
lead back to you.” He chuckled ominously. “And he calls himself a
visionary and me a sociopath. I’ve always hated labels since I was
a child. Psychopath, sociopath, psychotic, antisocial, arsonist,
schizophrenic, insane, what do doctors know. I’m an artist.” He
thumped his chest with the bat. “Just like you.”