“You bastard,” Rachel-Ann said softly. “It’s a lie! He couldn’t—”
“Don’t!” He stopped her. Still refusing to look at Jilly. “I don’t give a damn what you think, but you have to get out of here. He’ll be coming here. He thinks I’m bringing you here, keeping you for him. He’s going away, leaving the country. He’s about to be indicted for fraud, he’s broken almost every law you could ever think of, and all he cares about is getting to a nice safe country where there’s no extradition and enjoying all the money he squirreled away. And he expects you to help him spend it.”
“And why shouldn’t I? Why shouldn’t I go away with him? He loves me.”
“Yes, he does,” Coltrane said grimly. “Just a little too much. He’s your real father.”
“Oh, God,” Jilly said, breaking her shocked silence as it all finally made sense.
For a moment Rachel-Ann didn’t move. And then she crossed the room very slowly, ignoring them, walking into the bathroom. A moment later they heard the sound of her retching.
Finally Coltrane turned to look at Jilly, unflinching, unrepentant. “You have to get her out of here. I thought she’d stay away and I wouldn’t have to worry about her.”
“You just had to keep me occupied?” she said.
“It was your idea, Jilly. Not mine.”
Of all the things he could have said, that was the cruelest. She had no doubt that he knew it, that he’d said it deliberately. “What will he do to her?”
“Force her to go with him. Your father doesn’t give a shit about laws or morality, he just doesn’t want to get caught. And he’s not willing to give up anything he wants, including Rachel-Ann. You’ve spent your life protecting her, Jilly. Get her out of here before he comes back.”
“And what will you do?”
“I don’t know,” he said flatly. “I’ll figure it out as it happens.”
“Murder’s against the law.”
“Tell your father. And it wouldn’t be murder. It would be justice, long overdue.”
“You made a mistake with me, you know,” Jilly said slowly. “You can’t get to him through me or through Dean. He doesn’t care about us. It was a waste of time trying to play your games with me. Sure, I fell for it. I’m only human. But it didn’t get you anywhere you wanted to be.”
He looked at her, letting those green eyes sweep down over her body, slowly, pausing between her legs. “Oh, yes it did,” he said softly.
There was an art deco lamp on the bedside table. Without hesitation she picked it up and flung it at him, yanking the cord from the wall.
He didn’t bother to duck. He didn’t need to—the lamp didn’t even come close, simply smashed on the marble floor. “Get her away from here, Jilly,” he said again. “Take her and get as far away as you can. And with any luck you’ll never have to see your father or me again.”
Without another word he walked out of the room, not bothering to close the door behind him. Roofus rose with a huge doggy sigh and followed him with mindless canine devotion.
Jilly was still sitting there, motionless, when Rachel-Ann emerged from the bathroom, pale, shaken. “What am I going to do, Jilly?”
It took her a moment to respond. She looked up at her sister with a kind of shock. “I’ll get you out of here. Coltrane is right—Jackson’s dangerous. He always was, but now that he’s desperate I don’t think anything will stop him. We need to have you out of here.”
“You, too, Jilly. You need to come with me. If he can’t have me—”
“He certainly doesn’t want me,” Jilly said. “He never has and he never will. Thank God.” She tried to pull herself out of her momentary paralysis. Her sister needed her. “Rachel-Ann, did he ever…?” She couldn’t bring herself to say the words. “When you were young, did he…?”
“No,” she said in a shaky voice. “I wasn’t sure, but it seemed as if he came close a few times, but something stopped him.”
Jilly breathed a tiny sigh of relief. “Nothing’s going to stop him now. You need to get your stuff together and we’ll go. We’ll drive up north, or maybe out to the desert where he can’t find us.”
“I have a place to go. Where I spent last night. He’ll never find me there.”
Jilly stared at her. “Who is he?” she asked calmly.
“Don’t pass judgment on me, Jilly. He’s not some one-night stand. He’s someone I cared about, a long time ago.”
There was a moment’s weary silence. “Actually I wasn’t passing judgment,” Jilly said. “For once I was a little more preoccupied with the mess I’ve made of my own life, speaking of one-night stands.”
“Jilly…”
“Get packed and bring your stuff downstairs. I’ll be down in a minute. Don’t try to take everything—the sooner we get out of here the better.” The sooner she got away from Coltrane, from the smell of sex that was turning her stomach and making her heart ache, the better.
They’d used up most of the hot water. It didn’t matter—a cold shower was what she deserved. She dressed quickly, grabbing the first thing she could find. Jeans and a T-shirt, letting her hair hang free as she hurried down the stairs. The hall was deserted, and she headed straight for the kitchen, the heart of the house. The sun was already beginning to set, filling the rambling old mansion with shadows. She’d spent the entire day in bed with a cheat and a liar.
And the worst thing was, she still wanted him.
She was a survivor. They had their roles in the family. Rachel-Ann was the fragile one, Dean the scapegoat. And Jilly was the mother, comforter, the strong one who rescued and protected.
Right now she would have given anything to have someone rescue and protect her. But she’d already given that right to the man who’d betrayed her.
She was limping by the time she reached the living room. Twelve hours on her back hadn’t quite effected a cure for her feet. All was still and silent, everything hidden in shadows, and she almost turned away when some small sound alerted her.
“Hello, Daddy,” she said. “Looking for someone?”
Jackson Dean Meyer rose from the wing chair that had shielded him from sight. He looked smaller than she remembered, somehow diminished. And yet even more dangerous. Because what had been vague, instinctive warnings had now coalesced into fact. He was a murderer. A murderer fixated on his own daughter. One of them.
“You look like hippie trash, Jillian,” he said calmly. “As usual.”
“Takes one to know one, pops,” she said flippantly. “Did Grandmère know you ran a commune in this place?”
“Why do you think she took it away from me? And I wouldn’t knock it if I were you. This family was flat broke before I got started. Drug money went a long way toward making us solvent again. Toward supporting you and this house.”
But Jilly wasn’t going to be distracted. “You can’t have her.”
Jackson’s small eyes narrowed. “Jealous?”
“You’re disgusting.”
He didn’t even react. “Where’s your sister? And where’s Coltrane? He promised to have her here for me.”
“And you trusted him?” There was no noise in the house. She could only hope and pray that Coltrane had realized Jackson was already there and had spirited Rachel-Ann down the back stairs, out of the house, away from danger.
“As much as I trust anyone. Why shouldn’t I? He isn’t troubled by morals.” He cocked his head to one side, looking at her. “Oh, I get it. You slept with him. I told him to try to distract you if he could—I didn’t need you barging into my office, asking questions, demanding answers while I was dealing with the federal government breathing down my neck. But I never thought he’d do it. Or that you’d fall for it. I guess you’re not the big, strong Jilly, after all. You’re just as much of a weak-minded fool as your mother was.”
She didn’t even blink. “Rachel-Ann is gone, Jackson, and so is Coltrane. If you want to get out of the country ahead of the law then you’d better leave now.”
“How very interes
ting. Who told you I was leaving the country? As far as I know only Coltrane was aware of my plans.”
“Maybe you trusted Coltrane a little too much.”
“And maybe I didn’t.” Jackson was looking past her, into the darkened hallway. “What took you so long?”
It was Coltrane, of course. Dressed, looking like a stranger. Not like the man who’d spent hours in bed with her. And standing beside him was Rachel-Ann, looking stunningly serene, with Coltrane’s hand on her thin upper arm.
Jackson smiled at Rachel-Ann, that fond, benevolent smile that had always made Jilly’s blood run cold. Long before she knew she had a reason for her discomfort.
“We’re going away, Rachel-Ann. You’re coming with your old man and we’ll roam the world having adventures. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? I’ll take care of everything, just as I always have, and you won’t need to worry about a thing. It’ll be just you and me, like always.”
Rachel-Ann was still, silent, watching him out of her betraying green eyes, so very like Coltrane’s.
If Jackson was daunted by her lack of response he didn’t show it. “Where are your suitcases? Not that it matters—we can buy anything we need once we reach Rio. We’re starting out in Brazil, darling, and then we’ll see where we want to go from there. Thanks for everything, Coltrane. You’ve done a good job.”
He reached out for Rachel-Ann, but Coltrane didn’t release her. Jackson frowned. “What’s the problem? Afraid I haven’t taken care of you? Don’t worry, I’ve left instructions with Afton—”
“I’m not going with you,” Rachel-Ann said, her voice wobbling slightly.
Jackson’s disbelief should have been comical. Instead it was even more chilling. “Don’t be ridiculous. Coltrane brought you here to me—”
“I didn’t bring her here,” Coltrane said. “She insisted on coming. I was trying to get her out the back door.”
Jackson’s smile was benevolent. “Of course she insisted. I don’t know what you’ve said to upset her, but all she has to do is look at me and know that I love her and always have. I’d never hurt her. Come with me, Rachel-Ann. You’ve always hated this house, hated this life. We’ll start a new life, far away, where no one knows anything about us.”
“I’m staying with my brother,” she said calmly.
“Don’t be ridiculous! Dean is useless, and who the hell even knows where he is—”
“No,” Rachel-Ann said. “My real brother.”
The silence in the room was chilling, deafening. Jackson’s attempt at charm vanished, leaving him cold-eyed and dangerous. “You lying son of a bitch,” he snarled in fury. “Don’t believe him, Rachel-Ann. It’s nothing but lies. I don’t know what stories he’s been telling you, but I don’t know anything about him.”
“He told me you murdered his mother. My mother. Why would you do that?”
“Baby, I wouldn’t!” Jackson said, so charming, so believable that even Jilly knew a moment’s doubt. “I don’t know who he says he is, but it’s lies. I don’t even know who your mother was. You were an adoption case I was handling that fell through, and I decided to keep you for myself.”
“If it was an adoption case you were handling wouldn’t you have met my mother?” she countered.
“She died in childbirth,” he said without hesitation. “Who are you going to believe, baby? A stranger, or your father who loves you? Walk away from him, now. Come with me. Just go upstairs and get a change of clothes and we’ll get out of here. Go on, sweetheart.” He must have sensed her hesitation, and he nodded encouragingly. “I’ll be right down here waiting.”
Like a sleepwalker she pulled herself out of Coltrane’s grasp, moving away from them, up the stairs. Jilly watched her in numb despair until she disappeared into the shadows, and when she turned back Meyer was holding a small but undoubtedly effective gun on them.
“I’m going to have to kill you both,” he said in a conversational tone of voice. “I really thought it was going to be easier than this, but you brought it on yourself. I never even guessed. You’re good, Coltrane. Almost as good as I am. Who would have thought that snot-nosed little toddler would grow up to be you?”
“I’m nothing like you,” Coltrane said.
“Of course you are. Much as you hate to admit it, we’re the same, under the skin. Amoral, greedy, wanting what we want. Like your bitch of a mother. She was trying to blackmail me, you know. She’d left you and your father the year before and showed up here with the baby, demanding that I divorce Edith and marry her. Either that or she’d go to the police about the things that had gone on around here. It was a wild time—no one was to blame. Hell, I didn’t even remember half the things I did.”
“So you killed her.”
“I’m afraid so,” he said with unconvincing remorse. “I drowned her in the swimming pool. She put up a hell of a struggle, but she was no match for me. Things would have been a lot simpler if I’d just carried through and gotten rid of the baby, too. I’ve always been the kind of man who does what needs to be done. But I took one look at Rachel-Ann’s eyes and I fell in love.”
“Touching,” Coltrane said.
“I thought so,” Meyer said, unruffled. “She was only a newborn, but I knew she’d grow up to be just like her mother. I’d loved Ananda, you know. Before she turned on me. And even though she had to die, she brought me a second chance. Rachel-Ann.”
“You are so sick,” Jilly said in disgust.
Her father smiled at her with complete sweetness. “I do what I have to do. You’re going to die. I can’t leave the two of you behind. I made a mistake with Rachel-Ann, and I’ve never regretted it. But I won’t make the same mistake with the two of you.”
“I don’t give a shit what you do with me, Meyer,” said Coltrane, “but let Jilly go. You don’t want to kill your own daughter.”
“But Coltrane,” Meyer said with the utmost reasonableness, “if I can plan to sleep with one daughter I can certainly kill the other one. Don’t underestimate me. I have no morals whatsoever. No decent paternal feelings, no sense of right and wrong. I’m doing it.”
“No.”
Rachel-Ann had reappeared on the stairs, but she didn’t have a suitcase in her hand. Instead she held the collar of a growling Roofus. And Dean was beside her, languid, unruffled, almost amused at the trauma in front of him.
Meyer had turned pale. “I can shoot him,” he said. “I can shoot that damned dog before he gets anywhere near me.”
“Give it up, Father,” Dean said. “You’re turning this into a bad soap opera. The jig is up. You’ve lost. Rachel-Ann knows. Jilly knows. We all know.”
“It’s lies….”
“And even better, I have proof,” Dean said in a silken voice, coming down the stairs, leaving Rachel-Ann standing there, still gripping Roofus’s collar like a lifeline. “I’ve had most of the pieces for months now, but I finally got the final bit of evidence today. The autopsy report on a young homeless woman named Ananda Coltrane. They found her body in the Pacific, battered almost beyond recognition by the rocks. But not so battered that they couldn’t tell she had chlorinated pool water in her lungs, not seawater.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“There’s already proof that ties you to her, Father. And I think a simple paternity test, maybe combined with a DNA test, would prove all sorts of interesting things. I’m sure Coltrane will be glad to offer some of his DNA for testing.”
“You’re my son….” Meyer said hoarsely.
“And you don’t give a damn,” Dean said smoothly. “And neither do I. You have your chance. Go away. Disappear. Leave the country and enjoy what time you have left. I’m sure you’ve stashed away a comfortable amount in various foreign countries. As long as you go now then you can get away with it. I’ll be more than happy to take over Meyer Enterprises, to pick up the pieces of the mess you made. You can get away with murder, Jackson.”
Coltrane jerked, then stilled. Saying nothing, hi
s face like ice.
Meyer turned to Rachel-Ann, holding out his hand. “Rachel-Ann?” he said, pleading.
“Go away while you can, Jackson,” she said, her voice cool and dismissing. “Save your sorry ass and save us all embarrassment.”
She couldn’t have destroyed him any more effectively. He stared up at her with shock and hatred in his face. And then before anyone could realize what he was doing he raised the gun.
Jilly screamed and Coltrane hit Jackson at the same time, slamming him against the wall. The gun went off, the shot going wild overhead, and Roofus leapt from the stairs with a furious growl, looking like a particularly shaggy hound of hell.
Meyer’s scream was pure panic, high-pitched and girlish, and before anyone could stop him he ran out of the house, Roofus bounding after him, baying like a blood-crazed wolf.
“Roofus!” Jilly called, but the frenzied dog didn’t hear her. Someone caught her arm, probably Coltrane, but she shook him off, running outside, after her dog.
Meyer was disappearing down the path toward the tangled rose garden, with Roofus close on his heels. She had no idea how dangerous Roofus could be, but she couldn’t trust that he wouldn’t rip Meyer’s throat out if he got him down. Meyer deserved far worse, but she couldn’t let Roofus get a taste for blood.
She ran after them, mindless of the branches that pulled at her long hair, scratched at her arms. The others were behind her, she could hear them, but she didn’t care. They were heading toward the abandoned pool, and she didn’t even hesitate, crashing after them.
She reached the clearing only a moment after they did. Meyer was teetering on the edge of the pool, his eyes wide and staring, and Roofus was stalking him, growling deep in his throat.
“Roofus!” she called him again, her voice urgent.
The dog turned, whipping his huge head around. And Meyer stumbled, backward, into the dank pool.
She heard the sound as his head smacked against the cement. The sickening splat of bone and blood, the splash as his body tumbled into the few feet of murky water. And then all was silent.
She hadn’t moved when the others reached the clearing; she was simply standing there, holding Roofus’s collar. Coltrane got to her first.