Lantry kissed Dede on the top of the head. Then, releasing her, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and dressed.
He could see the cold darkness of the evening through the curtainless windows downstairs. Earlier, when he’d gone out to call his brother, he’d heard a car go by. He’d waited to make sure it hadn’t stopped. It hadn’t.
Now he felt exposed. This is what it felt like being on the run.
Downstairs, he moved the two boxes into the living room, then built a fire in the fireplace with the scrap wood lying around.
Once the fire caught, he turned to the boxes, praying that whatever Frank had hidden in the boat would help them out of this mess.
He didn’t even want to think about the laws the two of them had broken or the trouble they were in. The only way out was to find out the truth, expose the men involved and put an end to this. Then he would deal with the legal problems they would be facing.
At least if he could prove the danger Dede had been in, he believed he could clear her. That was his main concern as he pulled the box over in front of the fireplace and stopped to listen.
He could hear Dede in the shower. As he listened closer, he heard her singing. He got up and walked down the hall to stand outside the bathroom door. She had a beautiful voice. He remembered something. A photograph that had fallen out of Frank’s wallet during one of their meetings about the divorce proceedings.
Lantry had picked it up from the floor where it had dropped and handed it back to Frank, who’d seemed flustered. But not before he’d seen the woman in the snapshot. She’d been playing a guitar and singing. Lantry had only gotten a glimpse of her. A young woman, college-aged, with long reddish-blond hair and big blue eyes.
With a jolt, he realized the photograph had been of Dede. What made his heart ache was the realization that Frank Chamberlain had hung on to a photo of the woman he was divorcing. Frank had never stopped loving Dede.
And Dede had never stopped loving him.
Stepping away from the door, Lantry went back to the box waiting for him. The present Frank had given him. Now more than ever, Lantry wanted to know what was inside. Taking out his pocket knife, he began to open the box.
He heard the shower shut off, the singing stop. He pulled back the cardboard flaps.
As he removed the packing material on top, Lantry was taken aback by the sight of what appeared to be a small replica of a wooden boat from the 1930s or 1940s.
It lay in a nest of packing material, the mahogany wood lightly varnished and glowing warmly. The boat was perfect in every detail.
Looking up, he saw Dede come into the room. She stopped and hugged herself as she watched him lift out the boat.
“It’s beautiful,” he said in awe as he ran his fingers along the smoothly lacquered mahogany.
Dede nodded but said nothing.
Lantry held the boat up to the light. As he did, he heard something shift inside the hull. He felt his heart kick up a beat.
He glanced at Dede. Her eyes had filled with tears. Frank had let her down in so many ways. Would he let her down even more when they discovered what was inside the boat?
But as he inspected the boat, he could find no way to open it to get inside. “Dede, is there a secret compartment or door to get inside the hull?”
She seemed to hesitate, then came over and knelt down on the floor next to him. Her fingers trembled as she touched the slick surface of the boat, running her fingertips along the gunnels. She brushed over one of the tiny cleats, and a side panel in the boat popped open to reveal a compartment inside.
Lantry heard her let out a small sigh as she drew back her hand and looked over at him. He could almost see her hold her breath as he reached inside to work out a small padded bundle the size of his fist.
Glancing at Dede, he took a breath, then carefully began to unwrap it. Just as he’d feared. A nest of diamonds and gold appeared.
As he picked up one end, the diamond necklace unwound itself to snake downward in a long, glittering rope.
“So that was it,” Dede said as their gazes met. “A simple case of greed.” She stood, dusting off her pants as she went to warm herself in front of the fire. “I guess that explains why Ed and Claude are after us. Just as I feared. Frank double-crossed them and involved us.”
It certainly looked that way. He could see that Dede was upset. Like him, she’d been hoping Frank had left a letter or document explaining what he’d done to her and why. Something that could be used to free her from the mental hospital, free her from Frank and the past.
Instead, all Frank had left was proof of his involvement in the Fallon burglary.
This explained what Ed and Claude were after. It didn’t seem enough. Frank had lost his life for this. How could he have divorced and committed his wife for something this cold to the touch? That didn’t jibe with the photograph Frank had kept in his wallet and Lantry’s belief that the man had loved his wife.
While the necklace proved that Frank was involved in the burglary of the home of Dr. Eric and Tamara Fallon, it provided no insight into why Frank had given up everything for this. He’d been a wealthy man. What was another million or so dollars?
Apparently enough that, like Dede said, he’d double-crossed his partners in crime and ultimately lost everything.
Lantry started to put down the necklace, sickened by the thought of what Frank had done, when the stones caught the light of the fire. He froze.
* * *
ED HAD PARKED down the road in a wide spot that had been plowed for snowmobile trailers. He could see where the trucks and trailers had parked, where the snowmobiles had been unloaded and run through the woods, where the riders had shared a few beers and some smokes before leaving.
The parking area was empty now except for a few cigarette butts and a six-pack of crushed beer cans.
Ed had settled in to wait for darkness, dozing off for a while to wake to the gunmetal-gray sky. He knew at once that something had awakened him and looked around, thinking it was a snowmobiler.
The car moved, and he remembered with a start that he still had Violet Evans locked in his trunk.
He got out of the car and stepped back to the trunk, standing in the growing darkness of the winter night. The sky reflected the steel blue onto the snow, casting the snow-covered land in an eerie light.
As he stood outside his frost-coated rental car, Ed had never felt more alone—even with Violet just inches away in the trunk. Frank was gone. So was Claude. The thought wrenched at his heart. Frank had gotten what he deserved, but not Claude.
Emptiness and loneliness filled him, amplified by the desolate frozen landscape.
One clear thought worked its way through his grief. He should have killed Violet. He couldn’t remember now why he’d kept her alive. The vehicle coming up the road. That’s why he hadn’t taken the time to end it right there in the middle of the highway. He’d always planned on disposing of her body. He just wished that he had killed her when he’d had the chance earlier rather than wait.
The cold made his movements slow and clumsy, his mind seemingly just as sluggish. He shuddered from the cold, stirring himself into action. Finish this.
In the pale cold light he bent down and inserted the key into the trunk lock, then listened. Violet hadn’t moved for some time now. No sound emerged from inside. Maybe she’d done him a favor and succumbed to asphyxiation.
He hadn’t even thought about whether there was enough air in the trunk for her. With the tape across her mouth…
He turned the key. The trunk lid yawned open, and he had to squint, leaning in to see her in the tomblike, shadow-filled hole.
The blow took him completely by surprise. She seemed to spring out, leaping at him, the thick roll of duct tape catching the eerie winter light before it connected with his skull, stunning him.
He fumbled for his gun, pulled it from his shoulder holster, but she got in another hard blow with the duct-tape roll before he could even backhand her with the pistol.
He stumbled back, tripped over an icy rut and went down hard, knocking the air out of him. He managed to hang on to the weapon—he just couldn’t get it aimed at her before she took off into the trees on one of the snowmobile trails.
In the dim light, snow seemed to hang in the air, tiny crystals that danced around him as he struggled to his feet, torn between the pain from the fall and the raging anger caused by his injured pride and failure to kill Violet Evans.
She’d disappeared into the trees. He considered only a moment about going after her. He couldn’t shoot her anyway. The report of the gunshot would echo across the mountain and alert Corbett.
Too bad Claude wasn’t here. He’d go after her. Claude, though, had been better at killing. He didn’t mind the mess.
Ed swore under his breath as he slammed the trunk and headed back toward the open driver’s side door. He was still furious. He liked things neatly tied up.
Maybe she would trip in the woods and break something and not be able to get back up, and freeze to death and they wouldn’t find her body until spring.
That thought made him feel a little better as he slid behind the wheel of the car with a groan. He’d been shot and now hurt all over from the fall. Anger and frustration coursed through him, warming him. He stared out into the night, daring her to come back for more.
She didn’t.
And after a few minutes, the cold crept back. He started the car and turned on the heater. The night wasn’t as dark as nights in Texas because of the blanket of snow on everything.
And to make matters worse, it was snowing more heavily now. At least it would make his approach more quiet, he thought as he drove back up the road a short way and pulled over.
He could see lights behind the dirty windows of the new cabin being built high up on the mountainside. He killed the engine and climbed out into the falling snow. The quiet was almost his undoing. He ached for Houston, the noise, the confusion of buildings and people.
He checked his weapon, then started up the mountain, following the tracks the pickup had left on the narrow road. It was time.
* * *
VIOLET HADN’T GONE FAR when she’d fallen, tumbling down into a small, snow-filled gully. She lay there, staring up at the sky, angry and scared.
She didn’t think he’d come after her. But then again she couldn’t be sure of that. She pushed to her feet and heard the car drive off. He was leaving?
She listened, the sound of the car’s big engine the only one on the mountainside.
He didn’t go far before he pulled over. Then there was only the falling snow and silence.
Violet retraced her footsteps back to the empty snowmobile parking lot. Her head hurt, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept or eaten. It made her irritable.
“Forget about him. You have bigger fish to fry,” her grandmother said beside her.
This time Violet didn’t mind her grandmother being here. She didn’t like being alone on this mountainside. It felt too quiet, too isolated and alone.
Also, she’d had a lot of time to think in the trunk without her grandmother’s constant nagging. Her grandmother had never liked dark, cramped places so hadn’t shown up until now.
“Someone put you in those places when you were a girl,” Violet said with sudden insight. Her grandmother suddenly didn’t seem as large next to her. “Your mother? Is that who did it to you? Why you did it to me when my mother wasn’t around?”
“Are you going to stand around here and freeze to death or take care of business? Your mother—”
“Hated you, you evil old harpy.” Violet could see her grandmother clearly now. The stooped shoulders, the drooping skin of her neck, the harsh, bitter line of her thin lips. But it was the eyes, dark and small as raisins, that had always glinted with malice.
Only now Violet saw something else behind the malice—misery and pain. The two fed off each other.
“Where are you going?”
Violet didn’t answer. Nor did she look back. She walked up the road, leaving her dead grandmother standing in the ruts, snow falling all around her.
* * *
DEDE TURNED AND SAW Lantry’s expression. Her heart began to pound. “What is it?” she asked as she stepped back over to him.
She’d been so disappointed in Frank that she hadn’t wanted to touch the necklace. It disgusted her. She thought she’d known her husband. The stolen diamond necklace proved she never had.
“Lantry?”
He held the necklace up. The stones flashing in the firelight. “It’s a fake.”
“What?”
He handed the necklace to her. It felt heavy and cold.
“It’s not even a good copy.” His gaze came up to meet hers.
She felt as stunned as he looked as she studied the necklace in her hands and saw what he meant. “But I don’t understand. Why would Frank hide worthless jewelry in the boat?”
Lantry was shaking his head as if equally perplexed by this turn of events. “Why get himself killed for this, unless he didn’t realize he didn’t have the real thing?”
“Frank wouldn’t have been fooled. Not if this was the way he’d made his fortune to begin with. But why hide this in the boat and give it to you? It makes no sense.”
“Or does it?” Lantry said.
Her eyes widened as they both seemed to come to the same conclusion. “Inside jobs?”
He nodded. “The homeowners had to be in on it. Which meant Frank was working with the people he robbed, stealing the phony jewelry, letting the homeowners collect the insurance and keep the real jewelry, paying Frank off with some of the insurance money.”
Dede stared down at the necklace as a thought hit her. “But why would Frank keep this?”
“It’s proof that the homeowner was in on the burglary,” Lantry said. “These were wealthy people he was helping steal from the insurance companies. Is it possible he was blackmailing them later? He had the duplicate jewelry to prove they were in on the thefts.”
Dede stared at the necklace, again feeling sick. “Quite an operation. But the last burglary was Tamara Fallon, his former assistant from the old days. Surely he wasn’t planning to blackmail her.” She felt Lantry staring at her and looked up to meet his eyes.
“Dede, didn’t you say that Frank changed when Ed and Claude and Frank’s former assistant, Tammy, turned up? Isn’t it possible that Frank kept these particular duplicates to keep them from ever involving him again? I know it’s a long shot, but if you were right and Frank really did want to change…”
She smiled at him, touched that he would try to put a good spin on this horrible situation.
“He had Tammy right where he wanted her as long as he had the duplicates stolen from her house,” Lantry was saying. “It would prove she was in on the burglary, and if she really was in the middle of an ugly divorce and was trying to get as much money out—”
“But why would Ed and Claude go to so much trouble to try to get the duplicates back? Unless they think the necklace is the real thing. Isn’t it possible that if Frank double-crossed Tammy, she double-crossed Ed and Claude?”
“Stranger things have happened. It might explain why Frank’s dead and the police think they’ve found Tamara Fallon’s body in a canal outside Houston.”
Earlier, she’d heard a sound and thought it was the pop of the logs burning in the fireplace. But this time, she knew with certainty that the sound she heard hadn’t just come from the fire—but from the back of the cabin.
As she turned, she saw a shadow fall across the floor. “Lantry—”
It was all she got out before the man stepped into the room and she saw the glint of the weapon in his hand.
He motioned to the necklace still entwined in her fingers. “I’ll take that.”