loved her.”
“Funny way to show it.”
“I’ve learned a lot in the last twenty years. I don’t kill anyone by accident.”
“What about April Klinger?”
“You’re not going to get me spouting off about April. That’s Kate’s game. She’s got that bee in her bonnet. If it weren’t for that bitch April, no one would have investigated Trask Enterprises.”
“Adam, I think-”
He hit him again. Dillon swallowed blood, coughed.
“
Scott shook his head, started pacing again. “You people and your ethics. It’s so easy to be me. I’m not encumbered by rules and morals. Morals are for idiots. Lucy is going to walk right into your house because she thinks she can save you. The only reason you’re not dead now is for insurance.” He took out a knife, stepped closer to Dillon. His purpose was to terrify and demoralize. Dillon kept his face blank.
Scott pushed back the rage that had coated his face while Dillon had pushed him about Monique. He said in a low voice. “As soon as I have Lucy, I don’t need you.”
“I know that. Lucy knows that, too. She’s not going to walk into a trap.”
Scott laughed. “You don’t know women very well. They are, by and large, stupid creatures. They have all these feelings and fears running around in those insipid brains of theirs. I know exactly what she’s thinking. She’s blaming herself for everything that’s happened, probably thinks she’s stupid. She’ll do
“You never knew where she was. You bluffed.”
Scott smiled. “You’ll never know, will you? Kate was pretty good with the computer. Even I began to admire her savvy. But I’m better. I’ve always been better. Kate leads with her heart, thinking she can save the world when she should be more concerned about saving herself.”
Dillon’s jaw clenched involuntarily, and Scott noticed.
“You like her, don’t you?”
“I love my sister.”
“Kate.”
“I barely know her.”
Scott shook his head, smiled. “Interesting.” He took out his cell phone, pressed a few buttons.
Suddenly, the knife came down hard on Dillon’s free hand. He screamed out of pain and surprise, his arm jerking in response. The knife pierced both sides, then Scott pulled it out and Dillon tried, and failed, to bite back a second scream.
“Thanks,” Scott said, pressing buttons on his cell phone. “Let’s get this party rolling, shall we?”
Twenty minutes earlier, Lucy had gone to shower. Jack liked long showers, but something didn’t seem quite right. He pictured her in her bedroom when he last talked to her. She had been holding something.
A cell phone.
He went to check on her. She’d been acting a little…strange earlier. He didn’t want to make anything of it; if anyone had the right to act odd it was Lucy. But his instincts told him she was being deceptive.
Jack always trusted his instincts.
He heard the shower at the end of the hall. She’d been in there too long. He didn’t want to break into the bathroom and scare her. Especially after the rape.
But he suspected that Lucy would think that way, that he would give her privacy, not worry if the shower was running…
He rapped loudly on the bathroom door three times. “Lucy? It’s Jack. How are you doing?”
No answer.
Jack tried the knob. Locked. “Lucy? Open up. Now. Or tell me to go away and I will. I need to know that you’re okay.”
No answer.
Jack slammed his boot down hard on the doorknob and the old lock broke.
Steam and moisture escaped the room. Jack pulled back the shower curtain, for a split second thinking Lucy had killed herself.
But she wasn’t there at all.
THIRTY-FIVE
KATE DROVE to the Kincaid family house using the directions Quinn had given her off the Internet. Something was bothering her and she couldn’t figure out what.
All she wanted was to see Dillon and tell him she was sorry she’d been so weird about meeting his family. The fact that he wanted her to meant everything to her. She would just suck it up and put on a happy face and do it for Dillon.
The Kincaids lived in an older, well-maintained middle-class neighborhood of post-World War II houses. Small bungalows interspersed with more modern two stories. Large, deep front yards and lots of trees.
Movement to the right caught her eye. A jogger?
She looked at the house numbers: 340, 342, 344. That was it, the modest two-story house with a yard bursting with color.
Someone was lurking outside the house.
She slammed on the brakes and jumped from the car.
That was no jogger. Someone was jumping over the fence. Not into the Kincaid backyard, but coming
Kate ran, caught sight of the suspect. Long dark hair in a ponytail. Five foot seven, one hundred thirty pounds.
“Lucy Kincaid! Stop!”
Lucy looked over her shoulder. “No. Go away!” She ran faster.
Kate sprinted after her, tackled her on the front lawn two houses down.
“Get off me! Get off me!” Lucy screamed. “He’s going to kill him. Let me go!”
Kate held her firmly, but pulled her into her lap, pinning Lucy’s arms to her sides. She didn’t want to hurt her, but there was no way she was letting Lucy go.
“Lucy, stop. Why are you running?”
Lucy stopped struggling. “Trevor is going to kill Dillon. You have to let me go. Please.” Her voice quivered in panic and fear.
Kate’s heart pounded. “You mean Adam Scott?”
“Right, Adam. He has Dillon.”
“How do you know?”
Out of the corner of her eye, Kate saw Jack run from the Kincaid house, gun drawn. He saw her and Lucy and made a beeline for them.
“I saw. He called me.”
“Adam Scott called you?”
“Yes. Thirty minutes ago. My time is almost up. He’s going to kill Dillon! I have to save him.”
“Why do you think Adam Scott has Dillon?” Kate asked as Jack stood next to them, his eyes scanning the area. Her entire body tensed. If it was true…
“My phone.”
