“That’s why Hugo endorsed her, isn’t it? Because she knew about the drugs.”
“The man is grieving, Lucie. After all these years. Georgia had no right to do what she did.”
“So you killed her and then you killed Randy. And you got Emilio and Marta to lie for you. Those babies weren’t born that night, were they? Emilio called his son a little bull. Angelina, too. At first I thought he was talking about how strong they were, but he was referring to their zodiac sign. Taurus. I just read my horoscope last night and that’s when I saw the dates. They couldn’t have been born May twenty-first because they’d be Geminis. The twins.”
“Aren’t you clever?” he said sarcastically, but I could tell he was unnerved by how I was piecing things together.
“Did you kill them both the same night?” I persisted. “Why did Randy have to die, too?”
“I didn’t kill anybody. You helped prove my innocence, remember? You’re in it with me.” His eyes glittered like a madman’s. I’d once trusted him with my life.
“Not anymore,” I shouted. “Don’t you dare say that! Now I know why you got so quickly to the place where Georgia was killed, but the sheriff and fire trucks got lost. Because you knew where to go.”
He said nothing, just kept staring at me.
I held the book up. “One of the missing pages in this book is the paper you wrote that letter on,” I said. “If I show this to the sheriff and he starts investigating, how short a straight line does he need to draw to connect two dots?”
“You won’t do that, Lucie,” he said coolly, “because I have something you want more than anything else in the world.”
I wanted to scream at him that there was nothing he could possibly have that I wanted, after what he had just taken from me. Trust. Loyalty. Devotion.
He waited.
“What is it?”
“Your sister’s life.”
I shook my head. “I don’t believe you.”
He smiled and laid down a winning hand of cards. “She didn’t kill that boy.”
My voice shook. “How do you know?”
“That is what it will cost you to not turn me in to the police. And believe me,” he added, “I
I felt sick. “I can’t.”
“Then she’ll go to jail,” he said. “Guaranteed. Her BAC will be well over the legal limit when that tox test comes back. She’s going to hang for this. Unless you save her.”
“How do you know I won’t agree to your terms, then turn you in anyway?”
“Because I know you, Lucie. And because I’m going to set this up so that if you ever do renege on your promise, you’ll feel the pain.”
“If you know something,” I said desperately, “then the police will find it out, too.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Want to bet on that? You want to gamble on that beautiful, fragile angel surviving and going on to live a normal life after she’s done time behind bars?”
“No.” I gripped the book so hard my knuckles turned white. I felt like I was going to pass out. “Ross, you’re a doctor, for God’s sake. Do no harm. How can you do this?”
“You know,” he said, “it’s really true what they say. The first time’s hard, but it gets easier. Now, do we have a deal or don’t we?”
“You can go to hell! It’s where you belong.” I picked up my cane and started for the door.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
My hands shook so badly it took me a few seconds to unlock the deadbolt. “The sheriff’s office. Thank God it’s only a few blocks away.” I reached for the doorknob.
“You’re not going anywhere. Turn around, Lucie, and move away from the door. Or I’ll pull the trigger and kill you now. I swear to God I will.” The gun was pointed at my heart.
“Since when do you own a gun?”
His expression changed into a sneer. “It’s easy enough to get one in Virginia. Now shut up. You think you’re so clever. I’m going to get away with it, Lucie. Marty told me the ME’s about ready to rule Randy’s death a suicide. Don’t forget it’s an election year and the sheriff’s running again. They could close the case once and for all, if they decide Randy killed Georgia, then took his own life. Tie it up with a bow and no one will remember, come November.”
“What about me? What are you going to do with me?” My voice sounded far away. Would he really kill me in cold blood? If he did, it wouldn’t be here. He couldn’t afford to. There’d be blood everywhere.
“Let’s go,” he said, reading my mind. “This can’t be messy. And I need to get back here before the clinic opens at two.”
“Of course. God forbid shooting me should keep the good doctor from opening ten minutes late.”
“Don’t goad me. It’s not a good idea.”
Outside his office, I heard the outside door open and bang shut. Then someone—it sounded like a woman wearing high heels—came toward us.
Ross drew a finger across his lips. No talking.
What the hell? What did I have to lose? At least if he shot me he’d be caught.
The doorknob rattled and Siri’s clear musical voice said happily, “Ross? You in there? Can I come in? I’ve got coffee and muffins.”
It was over before it started. As she opened the door, I turned and threw the book in his face. He moved instinctively to deflect it and I raised my cane, bringing it down like a sword on the arm that held the gun. As it flew out of his hand, I yelled to Siri, “Get his gun! Now, or he’ll kill us both!”
“What?” She stood there, dazed and stunned, holding a paper bag from the bakery and a cardboard holder with two large coffees in it.
“The gun!” I screamed. “Get it! Siri, now! He killed Georgia and Randy! He’ll shoot us, too!”
Her hesitation gave Ross enough time to dive for the gun, which was under his desk. When he stood up this time, I knew he wouldn’t hesitate to pull the trigger. He didn’t. I had no idea what kind of shot he was, but at this close range, he couldn’t miss. He pointed the gun at me.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Siri hurl one of the coffees as the gun went off. Someone screamed. Later I realized it had been Ross, scalded by the blistering liquid.
I swung my cane and he gave up the gun more easily this time. No one noticed the blood seeping through my shirt until the police showed up.
Chapter 26
I had to stay overnight at Catoctin General. The bullet had grazed my ribs, a minor miracle. I think Ross had been aiming for my heart.
Bobby Noland came to the hospital while they were fixing me up. I told him everything, including what Ross had said about knowing what really happened the night of Mia’s accident. Turned out she’d been right. She hadn’t even been driving. Abby had been behind the wheel, on her way to see the promiscuous Brad, who had decided he wanted to kiss and make up. With her car in the shop for a previous fender-bender, Abby took Mia’s keys and managed to pour Mia into the backseat, where she passed out. When Abby hit the Jeep, she panicked and called Brad. Their lucky night, to have no witnesses—especially among the passengers in the other car—so they moved Mia to make it look like she’d been driving, wiped Abby’s fingerprints off the steering wheel, then took off.
When they got back to Abby’s place, Brad called Ross, who made another late-night house call, putting two and two together the next day when he read the morning papers.
Bobby told me later the CSI team lifted a nice set of Abby’s prints off the back of the rearview mirror of Mia’s car.
“Happens almost every time,” he said. “As many cop shows as there are on TV, you’d think enough people
