Wait Until Dark (10 page)

12

IT WAS EIGHT A.M.,
and the construction crew had already begun its cleanup when Stuart Falkner's car came racing up the driveway. He jumped out, strode up to the front door and into the manor. A few paces in, he stopped, taking in the whole scene at once.

Nicholas tapped Lindsey on the shoulder to let her know her half-brother had arrived. She nodded, not bothering to turn around - yet. They'd agreed that Nicholas should take the lead in dealing with Stuart.

Stiffly, Nicholas walked over. "Stuart," he acknowledged. "Where's Tracy?"

"H-m-m?" With an effort, Stuart tore his stare away from what was left of the scaffolding. "Oh - she must be tied up with something. I couldn't reach her last night or this morning." His gaze wandered back to the huge pile of wood planks being removed from the floor. "You weren't exaggerating," he muttered. "Christ, the whole damned thing crashed down."

"It sure did," Nicholas agreed. "It missed Lindsey by inches."

Stuart dragged a hand through his hair, his entire body tensing as Lindsey broke away from the clean-up crew and came over to join them.

"Hello, Stuart."

"Lindsey." His forehead creased. "Nick said you were here when this happened. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine" She gave him a tight smile. "Just scared out of my wits. I got lucky. I managed to jump out of the way in time."

"How could something like this have happened?" Stuart demanded.

"I don't know." Lindsey kept her tone calm, detached, playing out her part as she and Nicholas had planned. "It just did. In any case, let's get to the purpose of your visit - you know, the
real
reason you came tearing out here. You can relax. Nicholas is the only one I told about the accident. So, as long as you took care of any press leaks, your family won't be subjected to ugly publicity. Okay? Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a cleanup to supervise so my construction schedule stays on track." She turned.

"Your construction schedule? You're still going on with this?" Stuart blurted out. "You almost got killed, and you're sticking to your plan to keep the place?"

"After I renovate it, yes," Lindsey supplied. "Why wouldn't I? After all, what happened was an accident. And accidents do happen, even with a top-notch construction team like the one Nicholas provided." She gave an offhanded shrug. "Anyway, it's back to work for me. I'll catch you later." She headed back to the hallway just outside the greenhouse.

"I don't believe this." Staring after her, Stuart gave a hard shake of his head. "There really is no getting through to her, is there?"

"Nope. But you're another story. I'm about to get through to you, loud and clear." Nicholas angled himself so his back was to the room and he was facing Stuart. Making no further attempts to mask his anger, he backed Stuart against the front door, planting his hand on the door jamb as if to keep him from bolting. "Now," he said' his voice low and taut, just loud enough for Stuart to hear over the construction din, "you and I are going to have an enlightening talk."

Stuart studied him warily. "About?"

"About what happened here. About the fact that I'm not nearly as trusting as Lindsey. About the fact that I have a lot more years' experience with construction sites than she does, and that I know damned well the collapse of that scaffolding was no accident. Someone rigged it So, I'll ask you bluntly: was it you, or Tracy, or both of you, who were responsible?"

Chips of ice glittered in Stuart's eyes. "That's a pretty ugly accusation."

''With a great deal of justification." Nicholas bit out the words, ripping into Stuart before he could counterattack. "Let's call it like it is. I know you. I know Tracy. I know how badly you want Lindsey out of your lives. I
thought
I knew the lengths you'd go to to accomplish that. Obviously, I underestimated how over the edge you really are. You'd actually kill to protect whatever the hell it is you're protecting. And I
know
you're protecting something, Stuart. I just don't know what – yet. But I will. Because this time you've gone too far. Consequently, you've got a helluva lot more to deal with than Lindsey. You've got me. I've just become your worst nightmare. Because I know things about your family - things I heard directly from Harlan - that will blow apart the whole damned fortress you've built around the Falkner name."

Alternate surges of shock and fear flashed across Stuart's face. "What things? What are you talking about? And what the hell is the matter with you, threatening me like this?"

"Nothing's the matter with me. It's you and your sister who've snapped. As for specifics, we'll get to those later. For now, just give what I've said some good, hard thought. Find Tracy and talk it over with her. Then decide how much you're willing to risk. Because I'm not bluffing, Stuart. I'll find your secret. And I'll destroy you both. You can bet your sorry ass on it."

Stuart blanched, realizing Nicholas was not only dead serious, but in possession of what could be a lethal weapon. "Nick, for God's sake, think about what you're saying. You're like family. My father treated you like a son. "

"Yeah, he did. That's part of why I'm doing this. For Harlan."

"That's crazy. My father would never want you to hurt - " Stuart broke off, his gaze narrowing suspiciously.
"Part
of why you're doing this," he repeated. "What's the other part?"

"Lindsey," Nicholas stated flatly. "I'm in love with her. I plan to protect her - for my sake, and for Harlan's. Just as he asked me to."

That reality struck like a blow, and all the color drained from Stuart's face. "My father
told
you about Lindsey? He asked you to watch over her?"

"Uh-huh. He thought she might get hurt. He also thought you were up to something - something ugly. Obviously, his instincts were right." Nicholas's eyes blazed. "I've been digging around subtly, out of deference to Harlan and his feelings for you. But I'm through with discretion. I'm going for the jugular. I'll smoke out your sordid little secret if I have to start the fire myself. I know just where to go for help. Like you, I have the phone numbers of every tabloid in the country. And I'll use them."

With that, Nicholas leaned past Stuart to shove open the door. "This conversation is over. Go find your sister and tell her the way things are. Decide how you want to play this. It's over, any way you look at it. Whether it ends quietly or in a full-blown scandal complete with an expose and pictures is up to you. When you're ready to talk, give me a call." A muscle worked in his jaw. "Now get out."

For a long moment, Stuart just stayed frozen in place, stunned with disbelief. Then he turned and stalked off.

Nicholas didn't budge until Stuart's Jag had disappeared from view. Then, he retraced his steps, came up behind Lindsey.

"It's done," he murmured, wrapping a protective arm around her waist.

Her nod was tight. "The proverbial trap is set."

"Yup. Bait and all."

She turned, gazed up at him. "And now?"

"Now, we wait."

* * *

The waiting was over by nightfall.

Nicholas's cell phone rang just as he and Lindsey were munching on the sandwiches they'd picked up on the ride home.

Lindsey's eyes widened, and slowly she lowered her turkey sandwich to the plate.

"Good," Nicholas muttered. "Maybe now we can get to the bottom of this." He punched the talk button. "Yes?"

"It's me," Stuart said without preamble.

"Where's Tracy?"

"She's not here. It doesn't matter. I need to see you." A pause. "Alone."

Nicholas wasn't surprised. He and Lindsey had discussed the probability that he'd have to meet Stuart without her. If the man planned on spilling his guts, he'd never do it with Lindsey there. "When?"

"Now."

"I'm not driving out to Providence."

"You don't have to. I'm still in Newport. Meet me at your yacht. We can talk there."

"Fine. Give me twenty minutes."

Nicholas punched
END
and put down the phone. "He's scared to death," he informed Lindsey, shoving back his chair and standing. "Whatever he's got to say, it's bad."

She rose as well, reminding herself to stay calm. "He wouldn't hurt you, would he?"

"No." Nicholas shook his head. "He'd have nothing to gain. He knows this thing has spun way out of control, that too many people are on to him. Besides, he realizes you're aware of everything I'm doing – where I'm heading and why. What he wants is a painless way to get out of this. Whatever 'this' is. That's what I'm going to find out."

Lindsey nodded. "Be careful."

"I will." Nicholas reached over, pulled her against him, and kissed her. "I love you, you know."

"I know," she replied, her voice breaking. "I love you, too."

His thumbs caressed her cheeks. "Once this ordeal is over, we've got plans to make. Surprisingly, this self-indulgent hedonist is turning out to be a very traditional guy."

"Is he?" A soft smile touched her lips. "Then, happily, I stand corrected."

Mike was half-asleep in the driver's seat of his car when he heard Nicholas Warner's BMW rev to life. He ducked down as the car rolled down the driveway and turned on to the road, zipping off to parts unknown.

He grabbed his cell phone and dialed.

"Ms. Falkner, it's me. Warner just drove off in his Beamer. By himself. Yeah, I'm sure. She's still in the house. How do you want me to play this?" He frowned, listening. "Okay. I'll give it fifteen minutes. Then, I'll start the ball rolling. I'll meet you at the Cliff Walk. Fine, I'll wait for you there." He hung up, glancing at his watch. Eight-twenty.

The minutes ticked by.

At eight thirty-five, he turned over his motor and drove up to Nicholas Warner's house.

Lindsey was pacing around the great room when the doorbell rang. She nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound. Drawing a calming breath, she walked through the hall to the front door.

"Who is it?" she asked, peering through the peephole.

"Ms. Hall?" Mike answered in a crisp, professional voice. "My name is Mike Carl." He held up his ID, leaving it against the peephole long enough for her to verify its authenticity. "As you can see, I work at Rolling Hills Medical Facility. I'm a private investigator hired to pose as an orderly there. It's urgent that I speak with you."

"About?"

"You. And Mr. Warner. Both of you are in danger."

Lindsey yanked open the door. "In danger? How?"

Mike frowned. "I'm not free to discuss the particulars. Suffice it to say, this investigation you're pursuing - you're in over your heads. I need to ask you and Mr. Warner a few questions."

A tight knot of panic began forming in Lindsey's stomach. "Right now, Mr. Warner is... out."

Mike's frown deepened. "We'll need to find him right away."

"I'll give you his cell phone number."

"No," Mike gave an adamant shake of his head. "I don't want to call him. There's a chance he's with one of the individuals I'm investigating. Tipping that person off could be dangerous. I've got to get to him in person. Do you know where he is?"

Lindsey nodded.

"Good. Then grab a sweater and come with me. I want you out of here anyway. It isn't safe for you to stay in this house alone."

For a brief instant, Lindsey paused, her natural sense of caution surfacing. "May I see your credentials again?"

"Of course." He offered her the proof she sought.

It was enough.

She grabbed her sweater, purse, and keys and followed him out. "He's at his yacht," she said quietly. "He's meeting Stuart Falkner there."

Mike's jaw tightened. "We'd better hurry."

13

STUART WAS ON DECK,
nursing a Makers Mark, when Nicholas arrived.

"Hope you don't mind," he commented, holding up his glass as Nicholas climbed on board. "I helped myself."

"No. My guess is, you need it." Nicholas propped his elbow on the railing. "Okay, I'm listening."

In one gulp, Stuart polished off his drink. "Can we go below? I'd like to keep this conversation private." When Nicholas hesitated, Stuart gave an odd laugh. "For God's sake, Nick, I'm not going to shoot you. I don't cause destruction, I clean up after it."

Slowly, Nicholas nodded. "Fine."

He gestured for Stuart to precede him, then followed down the stairs. Stuart paused to refresh his drink, then the two men settled themselves in the den off the main cabin.

"Do you remember seven years ago, the night my mother tried to kill herself?" Stuart began, staring broodingly into his glass.

"I remember."

"I don't suppose my father mentioned what prompted her suicide attempt."

"No, Stuart. Harlan didn't gossip to me about Camille."

"Right. Well, he obviously confided in you about Lindsey. Did he also talk about her mother? Did he tell you how crazy about her he was, that he was like a love-struck fool who would have taken off at a moment's notice to be with her if it weren't for his kids?"

Nicholas steepled his fingers together, rested his chin on them. "No. But it doesn't surprise me. I guessed Harlan was in love with Irene Hall. Are you saying he planned to leave Camille for her?"

"Bingo. Oh, he waited until Tracy and I were well-established adults. By that time, his heart condition was critical. I guess those two things combined made him reassess his priorities. He decided to go for it. So he broke the news to Mother, thinking she was strong enough to handle it. She wasn't. His plan was to ride out to Newport, get the summer place ready for Irene, then drive to Connecticut and surprise her. Hell, after all those years, he probably would have begged her if that's what it took. But Mother went crazy. Even I couldn't calm her down. She followed Father out here. I'm not sure what was said between them, but it had to be ugly. By the time I got here, my father was gone and my mother was wrecking the place, guzzling vodka like it was going out of style. I tried to take the bottle. She freaked. She ran out the door, jumped in her car, and sped wildly down the driveway, zigzagging from side to side like a ricocheting bullet. The only problem was, the groundskeeper was out there. He didn't stand a chance. She plowed him down like a weed."

Nicholas's head came up. "She killed him?"

"Instantly. I'm not even sure she realized what she'd done - at least not then. She kept going. She was so drunk, it's a miracle she made it to the Cliff Walk. But she did. You know what happened next. You also know that after the suicide attempt we had her committed to Rolling Hills. What you don't know is that I buried the groundskeeper, wiped that part out as if it had never happened. It was easy enough. The poor old guy was nearing seventy. He lived alone - no family, no friends, no questions."

"Who knew about this? Obviously not Harlan."

"No. Only Tracy and me. She helped me bury the body where no one would find it." Stuart's gaze met Nicholas's. "It's under some shrubbery in the back of the manor."

Nicholas's breath expelled in a hiss. "So that's why you wanted me to build those condos. To destroy any trace of ..." He tasted bile. "All this to cover up Camille's crime? She's ill, Stuart. She's institutionalized. No one would expect her to stand trial."

"Maybe not a court trial. What about a public one? Do you have any idea what the media would do with that story? Do you realize how they'd destroy her - or whatever's left of her?"

"What I realize is how screwed up your values are," Nicholas shot back. "We're talking about a man's life, not a nasty little indiscretion you want to smother." He found himself wondering if he'd ever really known Stuart at all. "Be that as it may, your story still doesn't fit. All that happened seven years ago. In your own sick way, you took care of the groundskeeper. Your family skeleton was safe. So what happened? Why did Harlan sense you were acting strange a few weeks before his death?"

"Because, unbeknown to him, I found out about Lindsey, and the inheritance he'd left her. I was shuffling through some papers on his desk, looking for a particular contract. And what did I find? A memo to Leland listing the provisions he was making for a bastard daughter I never knew existed. I saw red. Then, I panicked. If Lindsey moved into that house, worse, if she renovated it, she might find the body. As it turned out, my fears were justified. Her contractors are digging around the house, so the landscapers can put in a goddamned garden for her mother."

Fury glinted in Nicholas's eyes. "So you
are
responsible for trying to kill Lindsey. You made the phone calls, rigged the scaffolding - "

"No," Stuart denied instantly. "I didn't do any of that. Oh, I'd do just about anything to make Lindsey walk away from that house. Anything short of what you're accusing me of. I didn't threaten her, Nick. And I didn't try to kill her. I swear." He leaned forward, gripping his glass tightly between his palms. "I'm begging you not to leak this story. It wouldn't serve any purpose, other than to destroy my mother."

Nicholas still wasn't convinced. "Harlan specifically told me you didn't know about Lindsey."

"That's what he believed - until the end. The day before he died, he confronted me head-on about how strangely I'd been acting. He accused me of hiding something from him - pretty outrageous, wouldn't you say, considering what
he
was hiding? He pushed me too far. I lost my temper. I blurted out the whole truth. We had a huge blowup. Things got out of hand." Stuart squeezed his eyes shut, looking positively green. "That's when he had the massive heart attack. I never expected it to be fatal. I - "

"Christ." Nicholas rose, dragging both hands through his hair.

"There's nothing you can say to me that I haven't already said to myself," Stuart said woodenly. "I killed my father. It's because of me that he's dead." He opened his eyes, determination glittering through the moisture that had gathered in them. "Which makes it twice as crucial for me to protect the rest of my family. It's the only way I can make amends."

"That's a lot to make amends for, Stuart," Nicholas said in a tight voice. "Being an accessory to your mother's manslaughter and instigating your father's fatal heart attack."

"I know. I live with that guilt every day."

"Are you sure that's
all
you live with? After all, what's one more fatality after two others?"

Stuart winced. "I told you, I had nothing to do with what's been happening to Lindsey."

"And Tracy? What about her?"

"She's as innocent as I am."

Nicholas inclined his head. "Really? Then why isn't she here to make that claim herself?"

"Because she's at Rolling Hills making sure Mother's okay." A bitter stare. "Just in case you decided to jump the gun and call the tabloids."

"Or maybe she didn't want to be here because she's afraid I'd see through her and realize she's behind the attempt on Lindsey's life."

Tension crackled in the air.

Stuart's cell phone rang.

He snatched it up. "What?" he snapped into the receiver. A long pause. "What do you mean, gone? Gone where?" He listened, shaking his head adamantly as he did. "That's impossible. She hasn't driven in years. She's not mentally focused enough to get behind the wheel." Abruptly, he stopped shaking his head, the color draining from his face. "They're sure? How long has she been missing? Who? Who the hell is he?" Silence. "Pictures of... shit - " A sharp inhale. "I'm on my way."

He hung up, staring dazedly at Nicholas. "That was Tracy. My mother's disappeared from Rolling Hills. Security said she took a car, registered to some orderly named Mike Carl. He's missing, too."

"Do they think he kidnapped Camille?" Nicholas demanded.

"What? No. She was alone in the car.
Driving.
She was headed east. That's the direction of the Cliff Walk. Tracy called the police, just in case she plans to do something crazy. But it doesn't sound that way. The guard who saw her drive off said she seemed totally rational. Which, under the circumstances, can only mean ... Christ - " Stuart broke off. "I've got to get out there." He took a step toward the door, then halted, gazing back at Nicholas like a condemned man who realized he had no choice but to divulge a chilling - and damning - piece of information.

A sickening premonition settled in Nicholas's gut. "There's more. What is it?"

"When they searched this Mike Carl's room, they found a book on home construction, some Post-its and a couple of photos. The book was dog-eared on some pages that had pictures of scaffolding. The Post-its are scribbled bits of information, and the photos are of a woman. Security didn't think anything of the stuff. But Tracy demanded to see every last scrap of it. She said the Post-its are in Mother's handwriting - including the one that was slapped on the book instructing Mike Carl to read the dog-eared pages. The other Post-its list dates, times, and the addresses of the manor, your place in Newport, and Irene Hall's apartment in Connecticut. As for the photos - Nick, they're of Lindsey."

"What?"

Stuart looked positively stricken. "I don't want to think about how all this fits together. But you'd better get to Lindsey."

Nicholas had already grabbed his cell phone, and was punching up his home number. He gripped the phone until his knuckles turned white, counting the rings and praying.

No answer.

He pressed
END,
and tried Lindsey's cell number.

Nothing.

"She's not picking up," he said in a strangled tone. "Something's wrong." He strode past Stuart, heading for the main deck. "Let's go," he ordered. "This Mike Carl must have Lindsey. And if he's working for Camille, if they're taking Lindsey to the Cliff Walk..."

He didn't finish his sentence.

He didn't have to.

* * *

Stuart's cell phone rang a minute after they screeched away from the docks. He propped it in its cradle, so he and Nicholas could listen together.

"Yeah?"

"It's me." Tracy sounded like a frightened child. "I'm about a half-mile from the Cliff Walk."

"We're even closer. I was at the yacht when you reached me. Nick's with me. I've got you on speaker. What's going on?"

"The police just called. They spotted two cars near the exact entrance to the Cliff Walk I suggested - that rough section Mother's always headed to in the past. One of the cars is Mike Carl's. The other's a rental, but he's the one who rented it. I guess he left his own car at Rolling Hills for Mother to use. Both cars are empty. But the police found a woman's sweater in the rental."

"What color is the sweater?" Nicholas demanded.

"Light blue with pearl buttons."

"That's Lindsey's." Nicholas's jaw clenched. "Your mother's definitely not out there to kill
herself,
Tracy. Not this time. This time she has a different target in mind." He slammed his fist against his leg, glaring from the cell phone to Stuart. "God help the two of you if she succeeds."