Truth or Dare (23 page)

He took another look at the scene.

The pink loungers and chairs were in their usual positions in the shade of the broad, overhanging roof. The door of the small structure that housed the pool machinery and equipment was closed.

Branch looked at him across the restless water, his mouth twisted into a rueful grimace.

“Thought you were going to wait in the van,” Ethan said.

“Figured it wouldn't do any harm to check around out here. Looks like it was just kids sneaking a swim.”

The pink concrete coping that edged the pool was dry except for one spot. Ethan studied the damp area as he walked slowly toward Branch.

He stopped a few feet away. “Don't think it was kids.”

He thought about the gun he had left locked in his office.

Maybe not one of his brighter moves. He watched Branch's hands. The good news was that he could see both of them.

At Ethan's feet, the pool waters shifted and pulsed. The atmosphere had a sharp, crystalline clarity that was almost painful. This wasn't the first time he'd experienced this kind of hyper reality; this feeling that if someone spoke too loudly or moved too quickly the invisible bubble would shatter.

Branch's fingers tightened around the handle of the long roller brush. “Sorry about the false alarm.”

“Where do you fit into this, Branch?”

Every muscle in the man's big body rippled and went taut. Ethan was surprised that the snaps on the coveralls did not pop open.

Branch scowled, baffled by the question. “What are you talking about?”

“You working for Loring?”

There was no flicker of recognition at the name.

“I don't know anyone named Loring. I told you, I'm with Hull, one of Treacher's subs.”

“What do you say we call Hull and confirm that?”

Branch lunged forward without warning. The transition from absolute stillness to violent motion was so fast that Ethan knew it implied hand-to-hand combat training.

Branch swung the long brush in a sweeping arc designed to connect with Ethan's midsection.

But Ethan had caught the telltale thickening of the muscles in Branch's wrist a split second before the brush handle moved. He dove for the ground, coming down hard on the pink
concrete. An instant later the wooden handle sliced through the air where he had been standing.

If the handle had connected, Ethan thought, it would have swept him into the pool.

Braced for the impact against Ethan's ribs, Branch was caught off balance when the handle failed to connect with anything solid. He staggered briefly and recovered almost at once, sliding across the concrete with the agility of a ballet dancer.

Ethan did not even attempt to get to his feet. He rolled twice, hoping to collide with Branch's legs.

Branch leaped over him, coming down hard on the other side. Spinning, he raised the roller brush for another blow.

Ethan put up his hands and twisted once more. The roller caught him on the forearms and back, but missed his throat.

Branch jerked the handle upward again and lashed at Ethan's exposed rib cage.

The impact sent a thunderclap of pain through Ethan, stealing the air from his lungs. Blindly he rolled again, trying to escape the next lash of the handle, buying himself a few seconds while he fought for his breath.

He came to a halt on the coping at the edge of the pool. The blue waters seethed and flashed.

Branch evidently decided that the brush handle was more trouble than it was worth. He hurled it aside and moved in on his target.

Ethan made it to his knees just as Branch readied himself for a kick.

Ethan threw himself to the side. Branch's heavy boot grazed his shoulder. The jolt spun him onto his back on the concrete.

His fingers brushed against the fabric of Branch's trouser leg.

Branch tried to turn, preparing for another kick. Ethan yanked hard on the trouser leg. Branch stumbled back, arms flailing as he lost his balance.

Ethan kicked out with every scrap of strength he could muster and connected with Branch's knee.

Branch staggered back another step, trying to find his balance. For an instant his foot and leg hovered in space over the water.

He screamed and tumbled backward, flailing and twisting wildly in midair in a futile attempt to save himself.

The shriek of raw terror stopped the instant he hit the water. He convulsed once and went limp, facedown.

Ethan scrambled to his feet and ran for the pool equipment locker, relying on the torrent of adrenaline rushing through him to stave off the waves of pain emanating from his ribs and shoulder.

The pool house door was unlocked. That didn't surprise him. He jerked open the door and saw that the panel of the circuit breaker cabinet was unfastened.

That figured, too.

He hit the master breaker, shutting off all the electrical equipment connected to the pumps, heater and underwater lights.

He was vaguely amazed to discover that his phone was still in his shirt pocket. He pulled it out and called 911 while he limped heavily back to the pool.

“Drowning accident,” he said to the operator, knowing that would elicit fewer questions and bring help a lot more quickly than a long discussion of attempted murder.

He looked down and saw Branch floating facedown, unmoving, near the steps.

He put the phone back in his pocket, ignoring the operator's urgent chatter, reached down and gingerly grabbed Branch by the back of his coveralls. Although he knew for a fact that the electricity had been shut off because he had just taken care of it, he nevertheless breathed a small sigh of relief when he didn't get a jolt.

You never thought much about electricity until you had a nasty brush with the stuff, he thought. When this was all over, he'd probably drive everyone nuts obsessing on electrical-safety issues.

Branch was heavy, maybe already a dead weight. He put one foot on the top step to gain some leverage and hauled the big man out of the pool.

There probably wasn't much point, he thought, but he started mouth-to-mouth anyway.

He noticed the tiny tattoo right below Branch's collarbone just as an emergency vehicle pulled into the drive.

29

B
ranch is alive but the doctors say he's in a deep coma.” Ethan settled into the cushions and pillows that Zoe had arranged on her dainty sofa. “Which means we don't get any answers.”

Zoe, Arcadia and Harry were arranged in various poses around the small living room. Zoe's eyes were shadowed. Arcadia dripped with even more ennui than usual, a little too blasé. Ethan knew that she was as tense and anxious as Zoe.

Harry looked the way he always did, like a man who dug graves for a living.

“So what d'ya think?” Harry asked. “This was all about you? Not Arcadia?”

“I can't be absolutely certain, but I sure as hell can't come up with any other really good reason why Branch would try to murder me in my own swimming pool.”

“But why would anyone try to murder you?” Arcadia asked.

“Dexter Morrow,” Zoe announced in grim accents. “Maybe he decided to get his revenge after all.”

“Nah.” Ethan wasn't certain of much about this situation, but all his instincts pointed away from Morrow. “I'm sure he's still pissed at me, but I can't see him risking a murder rap just because I derailed his plan to rip off Katherine Compton.”

Zoe waved her hands. “You keep saying he's not dangerous, but he tried to clobber you the other night. He's obviously violent.”

“What happened at Las Estrellas was just one of those wrong-place, wrong-time things,” Ethan said patiently. “Morrow was drunk, saw me and saw red. The setup at the pool was different. It was well planned and carefully staged.”

“Ethan's right,” Harry said rather casually. “This deal with the pool looks more like a contract hit.”

Zoe froze. “Are you saying that someone hired Branch to murder Ethan?”

“Take it easy, honey,” Ethan soothed. He shot Harry a warning look. “Just a figure of speech. You misunderstood.”

“I most certainly did not misunderstand.” She was on her feet, hands on her hips, glowering at Harry. “What do you think is going on here?”

Harry looked at Ethan for guidance. Ethan shrugged. There was no point trying to soften the conclusion now. The damage had been done.

“Got to consider the possibility that this is something left over from Ethan's investigation into his brother's death,” Harry said with surprising gentleness.

Zoe swallowed. “That doesn't make sense. Ethan, you told me that Simon Wendover was dead and so is the killer he hired to murder your brother.”

“All true,” Ethan agreed.

Harry leaned back in his chair and stretched out his thin legs. “Thing is, Ethan here managed to irritate quite a few people in the course of that investigation.”

“Do you think that one of those people might be seeking revenge?” Zoe asked tightly.

Harry spread his skeletal fingers. “It's a possibility. Although, knowing what I do about my former employers, I wouldn't have figured any of them for a revenge killing.”

Arcadia gave him an inquiring look. “Why not?”

“They're businessmen,” Harry said. “They figured that they made their point when they drove Truax Investigations into bankruptcy, and it didn't cost them a dime to do it. Why risk murder?”

“And why come after me now, especially when there's no money in it?” Ethan said.

Arcadia crossed her legs. “I hate to ruin the drama here, but I think we should all bear in mind that the police aren't sure yet just what happened today. They're still investigating. It's possible that Branch is simply some kind of psycho stalker who targeted Ethan for reasons that we might never know.”

Zoe perked up visibly at that suggestion. “You're right. Maybe Branch is just flat-out nutso. That would explain those bad vibes I picked up in your office and at the Designers' Dream Home.”

“Yeah?” Harry was dubious. “So what was he doing in either of those places if he was stalking Ethan?”

“Good question.” Zoe sunk back into gloom.

“Stalkers are, by definition, crazy,” Arcadia pointed out. “They don't think the way the rest of us do. They're obsessed. Maybe Branch wanted to know more about you, Zoe, because you're close to Ethan.”

Ethan got the cold feeling in his gut again. “This kind of speculation won't get us anywhere.” He sat up cautiously, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in his ribs. “Let's stick with what we know.”

“What we know,” Harry said, “is that Branch tried to kill you. We also know that he figured out how to bypass the GFI circuit breaker. He was trying to make it look like an accident. That doesn't seem like something a true loony would worry about.”

Arcadia shrugged. “Who knows what kind of logic would make sense to a crazy person.”

“You know, Ramirez made a couple of interesting observations,” Ethan said. “After he calmed down and stopped chewing on me, that is.”

“As if you were to blame for what happened,” Zoe said, seriously annoyed. “From the sound of it, Detective Ramirez acted as if you deliberately set the whole thing up just to make his life miserable.”

“Well, to be fair, you've got to look at the situation from Ramirez's point of view,” Ethan said. “After all, this thing at my pool today happened only a few weeks after those incidents that you and I were involved in last month. I think he's still a little stressed out.”

“
He's
stressed out? What about us? We're the ones who almost got killed, not him.”

She definitely had a point. It struck him that he should have considered that angle sooner. Talk about a blinding flash of the obvious. He ought to have understood that the stress of what she had gone through the previous month had probably had more of an impact on her than either of them had realized.

She was a gutsy lady but everyone had limits. Zoe had nearly been killed a few weeks before. That sort of thing took a lot out of a person.

Maybe her conviction that she had sensed something weird in Arcadia's office and at the show house was some sort of delayed reaction to the trauma she had endured. It made sense that, given her conviction that she was truly psychic, her imagination might have translated her anxiety and stress into a metaphysical experience involving strange vibes.

He tucked that possibility away for further consideration and returned to the subject at hand.

“What Ramirez pointed out that was important,” he continued, “was that just tampering with the circuit breaker wouldn't guarantee a shock, let alone a lethal one. But I think Branch may have put a little more planning into his backyard electrical experiment.”

“What do you mean?” Zoe asked.

“I'm going to have an electrician take a close look at the wiring in the underwater light fixtures tomorrow morning. Got a hunch we'll find out that Branch did some surgery on it.”

“That would make it look even more like a professional hit,” Harry mumbled.

Ethan nodded reluctantly. Zoe squeezed her eyes closed for a couple of seconds, but when she opened them, her gaze was clear and determined.

Arcadia swung one leg. “Do you think that the elderly woman I saw, the one with the camera, really was just an innocent tourist?”

“Maybe,” Ethan said. “Maybe not. If this was a contract arrangement, it's possible that Branch hired her to gather some background information on me before he made his move. The research might have included a rundown of my known friends and associates.”

Zoe shuddered. “In which case that woman probably took photos of all of us.”

“Except maybe Harry,” Ethan said, thinking it over. “He was out of town for most of the last two weeks.”

There was a short silence. Everyone looked at him.

Harry cocked a brow. “So?”

“So, it occurs to me,” Ethan said slowly, “that if Branch was relying on that woman with the camera to supply his background data, and if she missed you because you were out of town, whoever is behind this might not know about you, Harry. Not yet, at any rate.”

Harry smiled his grave-digger's smile. “Think maybe that makes me your ace in the hole?”

“Could be.”

“Want me to talk to some folks in LA? See if any of my former business associates can come up with the name of someone who might be really, really pissed at you because of what happened after Drew was killed?”

“All right. Thanks.” The ache in his ribs was getting worse. He stretched out an arm, groping for the bottle of pills on the coffee table.

“Don't move.” Zoe leaped to her feet. “I'll get those for you.”

She unscrewed the cap and spilled two of the tablets into his palm. Obediently he put them in his mouth and took the glass of water she handed to him. She rearranged the pillows while he swallowed the anti-inflammatories.

It was strange having a wife hover like this, he thought. On one level he had to admit that he was sort of enjoying himself. Furthermore, chances were excellent that the situation would only get better. Zoe hadn't even seen the bruises at their worst yet. By tomorrow morning they would be downright colorful.

He tried to imagine what new level of protection she would institute following the close call at the pool. Maybe he would find a crash helmet or some knee pads waiting for him on the hall table the next time he left the apartment.

But beneath the satisfaction of knowing that she cared enough to fuss, the cold, gray feeling lingered. It hadn't gone away. It was just temporarily obscured by the adrenaline and the distractions of this case. When things got back to normal, he knew that he would wake up one morning and discover that nothing had changed. The sword of Damocles was still hanging over his head.

Arcadia leaned back in her chair. “I appreciate your concern about me, Ethan, but I think it's clear now that you're the target. You're the one who needs protection. Harry should be guarding you, not me.”

“That's an excellent idea.” Enthusiasm sparked in Zoe's voice.

She probably figured Harry was even better than soy milk and SPF 48-plus sunscreen, Ethan thought. She was right.

Harry nodded somberly. “The ladies have a point.”

“Maybe,” Ethan conceded, “but you can't guard me and be my secret weapon at the same time. We need to keep you in the shadows until we know what's going on here.”

“Seems pretty clear to me,” Harry said. “Someone tried to kill you. Got to expect he'll try again.”

“But probably not right away. With Branch in a coma, whoever sent him after me is going to have to reassess his options.”

Harry nodded. “Okay, I'll go along with that. We may have a little time.”

“How can you be sure of that?” Zoe demanded, plumping up the pillow behind Ethan's shoulders.

Harry shrugged. “Well, for one thing, it's gonna take some time to find another hit man.”

Zoe paused in mid-plump, looking a little ill.

Arcadia frowned. “Are you sure about that, Harry?”

“In spite of how they make it look in the movies,” Harry said mildly, “guys like Branch don't grow on trees.”

There was a short, acute silence.

“What?” Harry said. “You didn't think I had a sense of humor?”

Arcadia patted his hand affectionately. “You never cease to amaze me.”

“That's actually a really interesting point,” Ethan said.

“You mean about people like Branch not being that easy to hire?” Zoe asked.

“Hell, no. There are probably several hundred thousand sociopaths out there who would be happy to kill someone for a few bucks,” Ethan said. “But finding one who knows how to make
the result look like an accident, a guy who has had some professional hand-to-hand combat training, a guy who's a pro, that's not going to be so easy.”

“What are you thinking?” Harry queried.

“I'm thinking it might be a good idea to find out more about Branch.” Ethan reached for his notebook on the coffee table and immediately regretted the action when his ribs protested. He realized Zoe was watching him closely so he tried to do the John Wayne thing. “I'm also thinking it might be a good idea not to sit around and wait for the cops to get the answers.”