To Love and to Perish (19 page)

I turned to see who had opened the door.

And found myself face to face with the barrel of a gun.

Twenty-nine

My gaze moved up
the gun past the sparkling pear-shaped diamond and black leather-clad arm to the shoulders and white turtleneck beyond. Then I stared at her face. Hatred, pure hatred. That's all I saw.

Beth Smith motioned for me to enter the house by wagging the end of the gun. “Come on in. I know I can't keep you out.”

I stepped inside, staying clear of the gun barrel, and scanned the area.

Brennan's home had an open floor plan. I saw gleaming hardwood floors, a floor-to-ceiling grey stone fireplace, chocolate- colored leather couches, chrome and glass tables, the television broadcasting the midday news, and a panoramic view of the lake from the windows. No one was visible in the living room, nor in the dining area beyond. The granite kitchen countertops jutted into the living room, forming a breakfast bar over a line of stools, but I couldn't see inside the kitchen. A few leaves followed me inside on a gust of wind to swirl in the foyer.

“Brennan's in the kitchen. So's your friend Cory. Why don't we join them?” Beth used the gun again to point.

She moved away from the door, leaving it ajar.

I walked ahead of her, looking for a weapon—or at least a phone—and finding neither.

We entered the cherry kitchen with its black granite countertops and stainless steel appliances. Brennan stood in front of the stove where a tea kettle whistled softly as though he'd been ready to brew a pot. It would be hard for him to do now because handcuffs kept his right hand locked to the handle of the stove. They weren't regulation like Ray's but they seemed sturdy enough to do the trick. A file box sat nearby on the countertop. I wondered what, if anything, of interest it held.

A second scan of the room revealed Cory lying facedown on the floor, just inside the back door, immobile. I didn't see any blood, although only his head and shoulders were visible.

Brennan tipped his head in my direction, acknowledging my arrival. He must have read the concern for Cory on my face. “She hit him in the forehead with the butt of the gun when he came through the door. I think he's unconscious.”

I moved closer to check if Cory's back rose and fell to prove he still breathed. It did.

Something poked me in the shoulder. “Stand over next to him, facing me.”

I crossed the floor and turned to face Beth.

She kept the gun trained on me as she rummaged in Brennan's kitchen drawers with her other hand. “Don't you have any cords in your drawers, Brennan? I need to tie your friends up. Otherwise, I'll have to shoot them now.”

Brennan didn't respond.

She yanked open the drawer next to the refrigerator. “Ah hah. Everyone has cords.”

She yanked out what looked to be a cell phone charging cord and threw it at me. It fell at my feet. “Tie up Cory with his hands behind him.”

When I made no move to pick up the cord, she stamped her foot, “Tie him up or I'll shoot him.”

I stooped and picked up the cord. Then I loosely wrapped it around Cory's wrists.

“Tighter.”

I tied it tight enough to satisfy her but not tight enough to hold
Cory for too long if he came to. He hadn't even reflexively twitched when I touched him, not a good sign he'd wake anytime soon.

Beth motioned toward the nearby kitchen table. “Sit down.”

I took a seat on one of the wrought iron chairs and studied her.

She moved back to the far side of the room. Her hand dropped a bit as she held the gun, perhaps from the weight of it. Aside from the gun and the ugly twist to her expression, she appeared calm and determined. Brennan probably hadn't recognized her with the funky new hairdo when she knocked at his door. He would naturally offer her refreshment after her long drive.

Brennan broke into my thoughts. “Now what, Elizabeth?”

“It's Beth. Not that you care. Not that you ever cared.”

“We were friends once, Beth. I cared.”

“You never came to visit me after the crash, even when you were still in the hospital recovering from your coma. You never came once to visit me.”

“I tried. Your father wouldn't let me. He thought I'd upset you.”

Beth's brow wrinkled as though this were news to her. Her eyes glittered like a wild animal's.

Brennan continued to talk as if he didn't notice, although I had no doubt he did. “I'm sorry about the accident, Beth. I never would have hurt you intentionally.”

Her arm dropped ever so slightly. Now the gun pointed at Brennan's kneecaps. I tried to judge the distance across the room to her and knew I would never make it if I attempted to overwhelm her.

I looked for a weapon as Brennan talked on. “What can I do to make it up to you, Beth?”

She raised the gun to his face. “I'm going to kill you.”

My gaze shot from the knife block on the countertop by the stove to Brennan's face.

His expression never wavered from compassionate and kind. “Why?”

“Because you ruined everything.”

“In what way?”

“In high school, it was all about you. Monica couldn't go anywhere or do anything without you. I was the tagalong to make a foursome with Wayne. Nobody cared about me.”

Brennan shook his head. “We cared. We were the four Musketeers, remember?”

“I remember when you broke up with Monica. She went to Wayne for comfort, not me. He would never even look at me. Then she got pregnant. I was the first one she told. She didn't even know if it was your baby or his. Disgusting.”

Brennan winced. “What did she do?”

“She counted the weeks and decided Matthew had to be Wayne's.
He didn't know any different, but when I met Matthew a few months
ago, it was obvious to me.”

“Why didn't Wayne take custody of Matthew after Monica died?”

“No father was named on the birth certificate because Monica wasn't absolutely sure. James said he was Matthew's closest living relative. He and Suzanne were married. They all decided a family environment would be better for Matthew. Wayne became his godfather, but he didn't really pay too much attention to Matthew. Wayne never paid too much attention to anyone but himself. The Gleasons never told Matthew about Monica being his mother. He thinks Suzanne and James are his real parents.”

Brennan's head jerked at those words. He opened his mouth then closed it again.

I knew he was thinking about the phone call from Matthew, who knew Monica was his mother. How did he know? Apparently Brennan thought it best not to tell Beth that Matthew knew more than she thought. And if Matthew knew about Monica, did he know about Brennan, too?

Brennan cleared his throat. “I know I didn't push James Gleason into the road. Did you push him, Beth?”

She grinned wickedly and stamped her foot again, this time with glee. “I shoved him. No one noticed, including you. Everyone was looking at the cars.”

“Why did you kill James?”

“He didn't want Matthew with me. He was going to ruin everything.”

“But why blame me?”

“You walked right up to my wheelchair that day. I can't walk very long so I still need my chair for events like the festival. You looked right at me and you didn't even recognize me. I got out of the chair to follow you to tell you off for all the years of pain. Then James showed up. He was going to tell you about Matthew. See, he knew Matthew was your son, too. The older the kid got, the more obvious the resemblance became. James wanted money from you.”

“And you want money from Matthew?”

Her smile was twisted. “You told Monica in the car that night all about your father's will. You wanted her to have Matthew tested to see if he was yours. She didn't want to. You were arguing with her when the deer crossed the road. You swerved to avoid the deer, lost control of the car, and hit the tree.

“Poor Monica.” Beth said her name as if it left a bad taste in her mouth.

Brennan sagged against the stove, a lost and bewildered expression on his face. “When did you decide to go after Matthew and the money?”

“When he came knocking on my door six months ago, asking about Monica. He'd found her diary and he suspected she was his mother. I'd got by on nothing for years. And no men ever wanted me for long once they got a peek at my scars. But Matthew couldn't wait to spend time with me. I was the link to his mother. And I played him just right. I told him he reminded me of her and how much I loved her. It was the perfect time to move in on him, when he felt so betrayed by James and Suzanne.”

Bile crept into the back of my throat. Beth was venomous.

Brennan cleared his throat. “But why kill Wayne?”

She waggled the gun in my direction. “When she showed up in his office asking questions about me, Wayne had a few of his own. He talked to me, and then he decided to get in touch with you. I knew the two of you would figure it out. I needed to marry Matthew first. So I called in the message from you and Wayne went running. All I had to do was beat him here.”

Brennan closed his eyes.

I felt something touch my ankle and recoiled. It was Cory's hand. He'd gotten loose from the cord while Beth talked.

He lowered his hand back flat to the floor. His other hand moved to the same position as though he was ready to push up to his feet, but he remained motionless, perhaps waiting for the ideal moment.

Beth didn't seem to notice his movements or the fact he wasn't tied up anymore.

Brennan's chin had sunk to his chest. He seemed speechless at this point in the face of Beth's brutality.

I knew he wouldn't be any help overcoming her chained to the stove as he was. I couldn't count on Cory, even though he'd managed to untie himself. After a blow to the head, he might not get on his feet fast enough to be of help.

My gaze slid back to the knife block, then dismissed the notion.
Guns trump knives every time. Although Beth's hand drooped from
the weight of the weapon every once in awhile, she could still get it in position fast enough to kill me. Even if I threw the knife block at her, she could duck and shoot me at the same time.

I had no idea what to do.

Brennan's eyes were closed. I didn't know if he was grieving for his lost friends, thinking about how to save us, or simply praying for a miracle.

Beth glanced at Brennan and curled her lip in distaste. Then her gaze slid to me. I looked away, knowing animals always felt threatened by eye contact. And Beth seemed like an angry tigress to me.

Her gaze dropped to Cory. Her eyes narrowed and she took a few steps forward to train the gun on him.

A loud crash came from the front of the house. Startled, I jumped in my chair. The front door must have slammed against the wall from the wind.

Beth twirled around to investigate, leaving her back to me. I leapt to my feet and shoved her as hard as I could. She fell to her knees, dropping the gun, which skittered across the wood floor and came to rest under the kitchen cabinets.

“Cory, get the gun.”

I heard him scrambling behind me as Beth crawled across the floor, her hand outstretched, reaching for the gun.

She was much closer to the gun than Cory and completely blocking both our paths to it, so I jumped and planted my butt in her back like a wrestler, slamming her to the floor and knocking the wind out of her.

Cory tumbled over us and fell next to the gun. He got it in his hand and clambered to his feet. He threw the gun inside a drawer and stood with his back to the closed drawer, shaking.

Before I got off Beth, I felt around in her pockets. The right pocket of her leather jacket held a keychain, plus one single key. I pulled them all out and stepped over to Brennan, unlocking the handcuffs with the single key. He massaged his wrist as he stared down at Beth, who lay sobbing on the floor, kicking her legs and pounding the floor like a spoiled child.

“I'll call 911.” I moved to the phone mounted on the kitchen wall. As I dialed, Brennan stepped over Beth to examine Cory's forehead.

The dispatcher said she would send the nearest patrol car as well as contact Ray.

I hung up the phone and turned around.

Now Beth stood in the middle of the kitchen, blood spattered on her chin from where she'd hit the floor.

Seeing her, Brennan reached for a paper towel from the dispenser next to the sink.

She took off, throwing open the back door and disappearing into the wind.

“Aw, shit.” Ray would never forgive me if I let her get away now. I ran after her, Brennan and Cory close on my heels.

We rounded the back corner of the house in time to see her step off the front porch and run across the grass toward her car.

I started after her, the wind buffeting and trying to push me back toward the house. Brennan and Cory passed me, closing in on her.

When they were halfway across the lawn, Beth reached her car door, flinging it open and jumping inside.

I stopped. “Cory, Cory.”

He turned to look at me over his shoulder.

I dangled Beth's car keys in the air.

Cory put an arm out to stop Brennan as I walked toward them. “She's not going anywhere.”

Beth got out of the car and started screaming and yelling, a whirlwind of fury in the middle of the road. Like a thwarted child, she shook her hands at the sky and stamped her feet. The wind carried her words away from us, but I could still make out the enraged sound.

I could also hear sirens.

And the roar of an oncoming semi.

“Beth, Beth.” I started running for the road again, passing Brennan and Cory. “Get out of the road, Beth. Get out of the road.”

She didn't seem to hear me. But she saw me coming toward her. And she ran.

Right into the path of the semi.

Thirty

On the night of
Isabelle's surprise party, Ray and I got dressed in the closet together. He put on a pair of tan chinos, a light blue shirt, a multicolored blue tie, and his navy blazer. I put on a ruffled hot pink off-the-shoulder dress with a neckline that skimmed the swell of my breasts.

“Ray, can you zip me up?”

He took hold of the zipper pull, swiped my hair away, and leaned down to run his lips over the back of my bare neck, sending shivers down my spine. “Do I have to?”

I playfully swatted him away. “Yes, we're going to be late. I don't want to miss the look on Isabelle's face when we all yell ‘surprise.'”

Danny waited for us in the living room, watching his beloved SpongeBob and wearing a pair of tan chinos, loafers, and a yellow dress shirt. He looked handsome—and annoyed to have to be going to this party. He'd been very quiet since he got home from visiting his dad with Ray today.

“Do I have to go?”

I thought once again of how much he and Ray were alike. “Yes. We're all going and we're going to have a good time.” So help me.

Danny passed the hour-long drive to Isabelle's party by listening to his iPod.

Ray kept my Lexus at an even sixty miles per hour, five over the speed limit and six under the radar. “Are Erica and Maury coming tonight?”

Erica and I used to have Thanksgiving dinner every year with Isabelle's family when Ray and I were separated. Their family knew us both well. “They were invited, but Erica's taking sewing lessons at the quilt shop. She didn't want to miss class tonight. They're learning how to make buttonholes.”

Ray snorted.

“Don't belittle her. She's using her time constructively. I'm proud of her.”

“Did you pay for her lessons?”

I looked out the window and changed the subject. “Matthew called Brennan this week. Brennan asked him to when they saw each other at Beth's funeral. Matthew said he wants to get to know him. He's coming to Brennan's house tomorrow.”

“Is Cory going to be there?”

“No, he thought the two of them should get acquainted first.” It would be a relief if one positive event ensued after all these deaths. Cory's and my morning donut discussions were a lot quieter lately. We both knew we'd been the catalysts for two people's deaths. Even though we'd been in the pursuit of truth, the fact never got less painful.

“That's a good idea.” Ray hit the left-hand turn signal, waited for an oncoming car, then made his turn.

“Cory said Beth's parents were heartbroken at the funeral. Her mother couldn't stop sobbing, and the doctor had apparently given her a tranquilizer.”

“They went through a lot with her, only to have her throw it all away.”

My secret fear was that could happen to even the most attentive and loving parents. “Well, at least Brennan and Matthew will have each other.”

“Matthew's an adult. He doesn't need a father anymore.”

“Then maybe they can be friends. That would be just as nice, wouldn't it?”

“Sure.”

I glanced over my shoulder into the back seat. Danny's eyes were closed, listening to the iPod. He didn't seem to hear our conversation. “Danny's been awfully quiet since he got home today. Did anything happen when he visited his dad?”

Ray glanced in the rearview mirror. “His dad has a black eye.”

“How did he get it?”

“He won't say. I'm sure one of the other prisoners hit him.”

Frustration boiled in me. “Can't you guys keep him safe? It's the county jail. You work for the county.”

Ray frowned. “The guards do what they can, Jolene. They don't have the manpower to watch him every second. He might get roughed up a little.”

“And you don't care. He could get killed.”

Ray checked the mirror again. “I care, but I can't control the situation.”

“We could pay Mr. Phillips' bail and get him out of there.”

“And he might take off with Danny, especially now that he's had a taste of jail again. Do you want to take that chance?”

I couldn't answer Ray—because I didn't know. Mr. Phillips had entrusted his son to us. Had his faith in our abilities changed? His situation certainly hadn't. He was still a homeless car thief, as far as we knew. Danny was a well-behaved seventh grader with good marks who played on the football team. He couldn't have any of that if his dad took him away. Mr. Phillips had made it clear Danny's education was important to him when he stole my Ferrari to start Danny's college fund—or so he said. Would he sacrifice his own needs for Danny's?

Forty-five minutes later, I still didn't have an answer when we pulled into the parking lot for the party house, which was so full Ray almost gave up and went home. He finally found one remaining spot at the far side of the parking lot.

We slid out of the car and headed toward the brightly lit portico.

Inside the lobby we left our coats with the attendant and entered the party room.

A wave of heat hit me in the face. Guests dressed in all their finery filled the room as bow-tied, white-shirted waitresses roamed, offering hors d'oeuvres and flutes of champagne. A band dressed in navy tuxedos played jazz softly. White Christmas lights glittered on topiaries placed strategically around the room, and magnificent bouquets of fall flowers graced every table, set off by flickering vanilla scented candles.

Jack must have invited every person he and Isabelle knew. I didn't see either of them anywhere, but Jack's brother stood on a dais, speaking into a whining microphone that pierced my eardrums.

“Everybody, can I have it quiet please?”

All the heads in the room turned toward him.

“Jack just texted. They'll be here in a few minutes. We'd like everyone to form a line around the perimeter of the room. Then we'll dim the lights. When they walk in, we'll all yell ‘Happy Anniversary,' okay?”

Everyone started to jockey for position around the perimeter. Since we were still in the doorway, we only had to move a few steps to stay close to the entrance yet out of the way.

The lights dimmed. We waited.

And waited.

A few people giggled nervously. Some started to whisper.

A man by the window called out, “They're here. Shush.”

Moments later the doors flew open. The lights went up.

Isabelle stood in the doorway on Jack's arm, wearing a stunning red satin dress with matching shoes and a diamond necklace that caught the light. Her eyes bugged out when we yelled.

A tentative smile—then a broader one lit up her face and spread to her eyes. She fanned herself with her clutch as her gaze moved around the room.

Jack, looking dapper in a black tuxedo, unhooked his arm from hers and stepped to the side. “Surprise, honey. Happy anniversary.”

Tears glittered in the corners of Isabelle's eyes. She shook her head in wonder and disbelief before moving to kiss him.

Everyone applauded.

Cassidy ran forward from where she had been waiting at her grandmother's side, her curls bouncing and her crinoline and taffeta rustling. She stopped in front of Isabelle, pressing her palms together. “Are you surprised, Mommy? Are you surprised?”

“I sure am, baby.” Isabelle crouched and hugged Cassidy tight. “I sure am.”

The three of them started around the room to greet the guests. Everyone stayed in place, waiting to be received. Isabelle and Jack made it around to us at last.

Jack shook Ray's and Danny's hands. “Good to see you. Thanks for coming.”

He leaned in to kiss my cheek. “Thanks for keeping the secret. I know it must have killed you.”

That was putting it mildly.

Isabelle's eyes met mine. She started to cry.

I hugged her.

She whispered in my ear, “I'm such an idiot.”

“No, no. He must have been planning this for months. He was keeping a secret from you, just not the one you thought.”

“Let me steal Jolene for a moment, Ray.” She took me by the hand and led me toward the bar. “I feel so stupid. You know, when you and Ray split, it was right around your ten-year anniversary. I was so sure you two were meant to be together forever. Your separation rocked my confidence. Then when Jack started acting secretive, I assumed …”

She pressed her hand to her nose and sniffed.

I tried to ease the moment. “Well, you know what happens when
you assume.”

She laughed. “I do now.”

The band started to play “From This Moment On,” Shania
Twain's big hit from the late nineties, and the song Jack and
Isabelle had chosen for their first dance at their wedding. Jack approached from across the room, took Isabelle by the hand, and swept her onto the dance floor in front of the band. Her smile was radiant.

Ray appeared next to me. “Nice party. Isabelle looks stunning.”

I sighed with happiness. “Yes, she does. Where's Danny?”

Ray waved vaguely over his shoulder. “He's discussing the merits of about a hundred different Playstation 3 games with Isabelle's nephew.”

Other couples moved to join Isabelle and Jack on the dance floor. Ray crooked his arm. “Care to dance, Mrs. Parker?”

“I'd be delighted, Mr. Parker.”

The evening passed in a whirl of filet mignon, wine, and chocolate mousse cake. By ten, I felt bloated but satisfied. Danny, finished with his Playstation discussions and bored to tears by the music and dancing, agitated to go home. The party seemed like it was just getting started, but I told him to wait by the front door while I bid Isabelle goodnight and rounded up Ray from his conversation with the men by the bar.

Isabelle hugged me tight. “This was amazing. I'm so glad you came.”

I squeezed her back. “Me, too. Where's Jack? I want to compliment him for a job well done.”

Isabelle waved toward the men's room. “He's making room for more wine.”

“Oh. Well, tell him the party was wonderful.”

Ray and I found Danny slumped on a bench in the lobby. The coatroom attendant had disappeared. She must have been taking a break because her tip jar sat unguarded on the ledge. We waited a few minutes but she failed to return to her post.

Ray gazed at the claim tickets in his hand. “What coat did you wear?”

“My white one. I'll help you look.”

We entered the coatroom and started up the first aisle, checking the hanger numbers against our tickets. We rounded the bend into the back aisle.

And came upon Jack in a clench with another woman.

She spotted us first and tapped him on the shoulder. He spun to look at us.

Ray looked at the tickets in his hand. “I think those are our coats you're leaning on. Could you pass them this way, Jack?”

Jack swallowed and obeyed.

I gazed at him, my mouth hanging open. He couldn't meet my
eyes. The woman appeared unrepentant. I had no idea who she was.

Ray put his arm around my shoulder and nudged me toward the door. “Great party, Jack. Take care.”

He pushed me along. I resisted, tempted to go back and claw Jack's eyes out. “Keep moving, Jolene. It's not our affair.”

A poor choice of words on Ray's part.

He moved me into the lobby and placed my coat around my shoulders. “Danny, let's go, buddy. Time to go home.”

I stared at the coatroom then tried to locate Isabelle in the party room, willing her to come and witness this for herself. I didn't want to be the one to tell her and break her heart.

Ray swept me out the door. He whispered in my ear as we crossed the parking lot, “Isabelle knows. The wife always knows.”

On the way home, I analyzed Isabelle's crazed behavior over the last few weeks and her admitted suspicions regarding Jack's
behavior. She'd been acting completely out-of-character, emotional, irrational, like she'd lost her identity.

And I realized Ray was right.

_____

I kissed Danny goodnight and went into our bedroom to change while Ray tucked him into bed. After washing off my makeup and brushing my teeth, I climbed into bed, welcoming sleep.

Ray appeared in our bedroom doorway, loosening his tie. “Hey, don't go to sleep yet. Danny wants you to tuck him in, too.”

I threw back the bedcovers and padded across the cold wood floor in my bare feet. It was nice to be wanted, but sometimes it was okay to be left out, too.

“Good night, Danny.” I brushed the hair from his forehead and kissed him.

He lifted up on his elbows. “Can we talk for a second?”

“Sure.” I sat on the edge of his bed.

“My dad has a black eye.”

“I know. Ray told me.”

“He won't tell me how he got it. He just said not to worry.”

“But you're worried.”

Danny swallowed and nodded. A tear ran down his cheek. “You promised to help him. Can you bail him out of jail?”

“I could, Danny. I have the money.” I hesitated, then decided to go with the truth. “I'm afraid he'll run and take you with him. I couldn't bear to think of you living out of a car again.”

I expected Danny to protest, to claim this would never happen. He said nothing. Instead, he lay back down on the bed. “I understand.”

His calm acceptance broke my heart. I pulled the covers over his shoulders and kissed him again. “I love you, Danny.”

He turned his head away and the covers muffled his reply. “I love you, too, Jolene.”

I thought he might be crying.

In the living room, I curled up on the couch, pulling an afghan around my shoulders as I hugged Erica's pillow to my chest. When Danny said he understood, did he mean that he thought his father would run? Did he mean his father would take him away, too? Or did he simply mean that he knew I'd break my promise and never take a chance by paying Mr. Phillips' bail?

How could a twelve-year-old understand when I didn't?