NINETY-SEVEN

MIKE was alive!

For a moment that was the only thought my mind registered. At gunpoint, Owen had led me into the study, where I found the man I loved sprawled on the hardwood floor. He was unconscious, but still breathing. Owen had taken his gun—the same weapon he now pointed at me.

I didn’t care about that. I didn’t care about anything but Mike. I wanted to go to him, help him, but a maniac was threatening to shoot us both. He’d already struck me once, knocking my big glasses off my face. Then he tore my wig off, taking some of my own hair with it.

“So,” he said smugly, “the drug finally wore off.”

“What did you do to me?”

“Me? Nothing. Not personally, anyway. You, however, have been a royal pain. I saw through your flimsy disguise that day in the Gotham Suite, but I knew you were still experiencing memory loss, so I wasn’t worried—until this afternoon, when my security app showed me video of you and the detective here breaking in at the Mews. I assumed you’d regained your memory, but you didn’t call the police in, because I’ve been talking to the police and encouraging them to suspect your involvement in dear Annette’s abduction. So you’re a wanted woman now. And since you have no real evidence against me, I simply waited for you both to come here.”

Suddenly, Mike groaned, and Owen aimed the gun at him. I loudly shifted on my feet so he would point it back at me.

“I understand why you took Annette that night,” I said. “But why did your goons kidnap me?”

“I knew Annette planned to ask you to investigate Harlan’s death, and I couldn’t have that.”

“Why not? Unless you murdered your own father.”

Owen’s eyes narrowed. “A part-time father is no father at all. My mother was fixated on Harlan—God knows why—but a paycheck is all that man was to me. After he put me through law school, he put me to work in his hotel. But as his only child, he owed me more. Much more. The Parkview and the family fortune should be mine. It’s only right.”

Owen leaned the poker against the cold fireplace.

“I’m surprised you and your cop friend were able to trace this all back to me. But then Toby Mullins was on his way to Sandcastle the night I murdered him.”

“You shot Mullins?”

“And I successfully diverted attention from myself to Tessa by placing your missing glove in his car. That was my plan all along, to frame Tessa for Annette’s abduction and murder. Then no one would be left to challenge the will. My mother certainly wouldn’t, though she knows nothing about this. I couldn’t trust her not to screw it up.”

“What are you going to do with us?”

He gave me a sick smile. “A police detective who loves a woman wanted by the FBI? Why, it’s the perfect soap opera, and in such a melodrama, they would run off together, simply disappear, never to be heard from again.”

“You plan to kill us?”

“Not right away. I’ll be torturing you both first, Ms. Cosi, a little fright show to persuade Annette to sign those papers.” He sighed. “You know, my original plan was foolproof. Too bad it was compromised by those incompetent day workers I hired out from under Ernest Belling. They seemed bright enough. But the fools gave Annette too much of the drug, and they allowed you to escape. Frankly, they weren’t worth the money I promised to pay them, so I didn’t.”

He shrugged. “After I had them move Annette out here, I convinced them to dig her grave on the estate’s property. They never had a clue they were digging their own.”

Suddenly, an angry roar filled the room, and a brawny figure in a bandanna rushed Owen Wimmer. The lawyer quickly aimed his gun at Ernest Belling. As the shot rang out, I leaped forward and grabbed the demented lawyer’s arm.

Owen and I wrestled for the gun, while Ernest Belling staggered and dropped to one knee. As I continued my fight, Owen smacked me in the face with the flat of his free hand, and I saw stars. When he hit me a second time, I fell against the fireplace.

Through a swollen eye, I saw that Owen was about to execute Belling.

That was when Quinn made his move. Still on the ground, he wrapped his arms around Owen’s legs. The lawyer teetered but didn’t fall. Instead, he tried to aim his gun at Mike.

I was on my feet in an instant, snatching the poker. I swung it with all my might. The shock of the blow jolted my arms. God knows what it did to Owen Wimmer, who dropped like a rock.

I let go of the poker and knelt beside my fiancé. “Mike, Mike! Can you talk?”

He tried to sit up, but I stopped him to examine his wound.

“How bad?” he asked.

“You’re going to need stitches, but that thick skull of yours seems to be intact.”

Behind me, Ernest Belling groaned and sank to the hardwood floor. The bullet had struck his shoulder. I did my best to stanch the flow of blood while Mike called 911.

“He killed my cousin. He killed Tommy Cole,” Belling gasped.

“Did your cousin help kidnap Annette?” I asked.

Belling nodded. “He bragged about a side job with big money. Then I heard the news about Mrs. Brewster going missing and possibly being abducted. When Tommy disappeared, I put two and two together. I thought Tommy might be in this place, doing secret work for Owen. I’ve been watching on the road for days. Tonight, when you guys came, I saw my chance. I hopped the fence, followed you in, and tried to stay out of sight. But when I heard him bragging about what he did to Tommy, I couldn’t control myself.”

Belling winced as I tied off his wound.

“Tommy was a lowlife who would do anything for a buck, but he was family.”