Jane surrendered meekly, simply pushing the door open and sagging against the steering wheel. Leavitt was gentle as he helped her out and led her back to the chalet. He even helped her off with her jacket. “I don’t like doing this,” he mumbled. “If it were up to me …”
“It is up to you,” Jane said, fighting through her fear. “You’re the one who’s writing my death sentence. Maybe you were too late to save Kay, but it’s not too late to save me.”
“You can talk to him,” Leavitt tried. “He cares for you….”
“He cared for Kay, but that didn’t stop him from killing her. He was madly in love with Selina, but he still got rid of her. What makes me so special?”
He waved away her words. “Let’s just wait until he gets here.” He turned and began to pace back and forth across the living room. “Look, I’m not just going to stand by and let him hurt you. I’ll talk to him. I’ll tell him that I’m not going to be part of another eight-year cover-up.”
She saw a crack beginning to work its jagged way across the bland façade of indifference. Leavitt seemed to be questioning his lock-step loyalty to William Andrews. She tried to exploit the opening. “Bob, for God’s sake, you know that once he gets here, we’re both lost. Let’s get out of here. Then we can decide what we have to do.”
“I know what I have to do,” he snapped back. “I’ve been thinking about it all day. I’m not afraid to stand up to him.”
“Of course you’re not,” she agreed, supporting his fantasy. “But not here! Not in his house on his mountain. We can get help from the police. You saw me at the station house. The police sergeant would love to put the great William Andrews into handcuffs.”
He smiled as the idea had a moment of appeal. But then he shook his head. “I’d be in the cell with him. I helped him cover up the murder.” He took up his pacing again. “We can’t bring in the authorities. We’ve got to solve this on our own.”
She knew his bravado would crumble once Andrews appeared. Leavitt’s whole adult life had been given in service to his master. Even if Leavitt found the strength to speak his mind, William Andrews would be able to silence him with a glance. Her only hope was to escape before Bill arrived, which could be at any minute now that the skies were clear. If she could just get Leavitt to take her to a public place—the inn, the store down in Mountain Ridge—anywhere there would be witnesses. Here in the chalet, her husband could do anything he wanted.
“Bob, let’s just buy ourselves more time. Maybe we can’t go to the police. Maybe the place to tell the truth is in his office, in front of the others. Or in the boardroom. But not here. If he catches us here, then I’m dead and maybe you are, too!”
Leavitt paused and looked up to consider the idea. “He’s not crazy, you know. He doesn’t go around killing people.”
“No, he’s not crazy,” she agreed. “But he’s not going to let anyone threaten his dynasty. You said he’s coming up here so we can talk things over. ’If that’s what he wanted, he could have waited until I got back to the city.”
“I won’t let him hurt you,” Leavitt promised. “Enough people have been hurt. The lying … the hiding … it all has to stop!”
“Then get us out of here! We can find a safer place to confront him. Please, we’re running out of time. In a minute, all the decisions will be in his hands.”
He listened, nodded, and then moved quickly to the door. Leavitt retrieved the distributor wire he had removed from the car and stepped outside. He worked furiously, brushing the snow off the hood, raising it, and leaning underneath to make his repair. Then he was around to the driver’s door, where he leaned in and turned the ignition. The engine caught and roared.
“Okay,” he announced when he came back to the house. “We’re ready. Get anything you need and let’s get going.”
It was too late. Even as he was talking, she heard a faint growl coming over the mountaintops. Then the first popping sounds of an approaching helicopter. How much time did they have? Just a few minutes. Not nearly enough to get the car turned around and headed back down the treacherous road.
“We can make a run for it,” Jane shouted, trying to run past him.
“No! The road’s dangerous. We’d have to drive slowly. He’d be waiting for us at the bottom of the hill.”
“Dammit!” She thought of pushing past him and taking her chances with the slippery road. But then the helicopter broke out above the next peak and its roar grew ominously.
Leavitt pushed her back inside the house. “We’ve got to hide you,” he said with more determination than he had ever shown her before. They both looked around furiously. “In here,” he decided. He pulled open a door on the wall near the kitchen. “I’ll tell him I let you go. He’ll be furious, but he won’t do anything to me. Just don’t come up, no matter what you hear.”
There was a short flight of steps down to a cinder-block basement. Light was flooding in from a back window, and she could hear the sound of the heating blowers. Outside, the roar of the helicopter’s turbine was becoming deafening.
“Wait!” He dashed into the kitchen, opened a cabinet, and reached far into the back. He took out a revolver, snapped open the chamber to check that it was loaded, and rushed back to her. “Take this! If he comes down the stairs, use it. Don’t warn him and don’t let him get close to you.” He closed the door in her face.
Leavitt then ran to the front door and stepped out into the swirling snowstorm that the helicopter was kicking up. He waited until the skids touched down, then ducked low to get under the rotors. The door opened and William Andrews stepped out, looking grim and determined. He wore a windbreaker over his business shirt and tie. The men hurried to the house and paused while the machine lifted, hovered, and peeled away to the south. Then they stepped into the house.
Jane had listened to the helicopter’s rumbling idle and recognized the turbine scream when it took off. It was too loud for her to hear footsteps or conversation, but she was sure that Bill was already in the house. His first question would be “Where is she?” She wondered what Leavitt would answer. She didn’t believe that he could stand up to her husband. He wouldn’t admit to letting her go. Most likely, he would say that she had escaped and fabricate a story of how she had slipped out and disappeared into the forest. Probably he would try to coax Bill into following her, which would get him out of the way and give her time to escape in the car. That was it! Leavitt had started it and left it running. He wanted her to take the car.
She looked down at the heavy weapon she was holding in both hands. She knew exactly how to use it. Aim at the widest part of her attacker and squeeze the trigger. But she knew she never would. Maybe she could wave it as a threat and hope it frightened her assailant as much as it frightened her. But fire it at another person—at a man she knew and maybe even loved?
She heard footsteps overhead, one person walking from the front of the house toward the kitchen. Then the door latch at the top of the stairs clicked. Jane knew she should do exactly what Robert Leavitt had told her to. Focus on the stairs. Wait for Andrews to appear. Fire to protect her life. Instead, she turned away from the stairs, opened the back door, and slipped out into the snow.
She ran at an angle, away from the house and out of the sight line of the back door. Despite the sunlight, the cold hit her instantly, carried on a stiff northerly breeze. She tugged her jacket around her and kept her head down to protect her face. In just a few seconds she crossed the clearing and plunged into the woods surrounding the house.
The evergreens closed behind her, giving her a momentary feeling of safety. But she knew she couldn’t stop. She had left a fresh track from the back door to where she entered the forest. She had to keep moving, hoping that she would be harder to follow in the darkened woods.
“Jane!” It was Bill calling after her. “Jane, where are you going?”
His voice was getting louder. He was already out of the house and coming after her. “What’s going on? What are you running from?”
She trudged ahead, farther into the woods, now aware of the snow coming in over the tops of her shoes. Her feet were cold and wet. In another few minutes they would be freezing. She had to step carefully over the uneven roots and avoid branches that could snap in her face.
“Jane, for God’s sake, you’ll freeze!” He didn’t sound as if he had gotten any closer. He was having trouble following. All she had to do was keep going. She tried to pick up her pace.
Her ankle turned and her knee buckled. Before she knew what was happening, she was falling face-first into the snow. She got a hand up just in time to break her fall but still landed hard across a tree root. The gun skittered a few yards away from her.