Deadly Intent (28 page)

“My father had nothing to do with it.”

She continued to gaze at him, her arms folded across her chest.

“Clarice,” he said, leaning forward and softening his tone. “Do you actually believe that putting Jordan in a military school is in his best interest?”

“Yes. The boy needs—“

“Discipline and focus. Yes, you’ve told me. I can provide that, too, Clarice, along with all the things a boy needs from a father.”

“Jordan belongs with me,” she said stubbornly.

“But he wouldn’t be with you if you enroll him at Brandywine. He’d be fifty miles away, in a school that would only allow him to come home on weekends and holidays. You’d be willing to do that, but you won’t let him stay with his own father?”

He had saved his trump card for last. “Summer vacation is coming up. How will you manage caring for Jordan during those long three months, while still fulfilling your professional obligations?”

Obviously she hadn’t thought of that, because she averted her eyes and started to play with a pencil on her desk. He waited her out until she looked up.

“Have you discussed this with Jordan?”

“No. I wanted to talk to you first.”

“What if he’s against it?”

“I don’t think he will be.”

“How do you know? Has he said he wanted to stay with you?”

“No. He knows that would hurt you. and he could never do that.”

“You think you know him so much better than I do, don’t you?” Her voice had an odd quality to it, a mixture of bitterness and resignation.

He couldn’t find anything appropriate to say, so he kept quiet. He had said everything there was to say. The next step wouldn’t be so pleasant. For all their sakes, he hoped she wouldn’t force him to take it.

The intercom on her desk buzzed, breaking the awkward silence. Clarice leaned over it. “Yes, Sonia?”

The receptionist spoke in a soft, British-accented voice that seemed to blend with the decor. “Mr. Campbell and his associates have arrived.”

“Very well. Get them something to drink, will you? I’ll be right out.”

She released the button, and looked at John for several seconds. “I’ll agree to a trial arrangement only. After a couple of weeks, if Jordan is not happy, you’ll have to send him back.”

“What if he wants to stay with me?”

She picked up a stack of paper and tapped it on the desk surface until it formed a neat rectangle. “I don’t want to commit myself to anything. Let’s see how those two weeks work out first.”

“All right.”

“When were you planning on doing this?”

“At the start of the summer recess. I see no reason to disrupt his routine now.”

She nodded and rose at the same time he did. ‘ ‘Just one

thing,” she said as they walked to the door together. “I’d like to be the one to tell Jordan about this new arrangement.”

“Fair enough.”

Thirty

In spite of her decision to attend Ian’s funeral, Abbie had come awfully close to being a no-show. Now that she knew how quickly Liz had turned on her, the prospect of facing her stepsister sounded as appealing as mud wrestling. Nor did she look forward to paying her respects to a man—a blackmailer—who had tried to destroy her family.

Brady, with his usual common sense, had brought her back on track. “Do it for Rose,’” he had told her. “She’s a good person.”

Brady was right. Rose had played no part in Ian’s nefarious scheme. Her only sin was to have loved a man who probably didn’t deserve her. Keeping that in mind. Abbie had put her doubts aside, donned her favorite black dress—a sleeveless Donna Karan number she had bought for Campagne’s grand opening three years ago—and left to pick her mother up for the funeral.

As she drove, she kept glancing at her, searching for signs of distress, but Irene sat calmly, gazing out the side window and saying an occasional word to Marion, who sat in the back. There was no telling how Liz, who apparently believed Irene was a murderer, would react when she saw her. Would she make a scene? Come over and spew accusations? Abbie had no idea what to expect, which was the reason she had tried to discourage her mother from coming along, but Irene had refused to change her mind.

Rose was already there when they arrived. She was dressed in black and stood close to the casket, looking sad and lost. Abbie walked over to where she stood and introduced her to Irene and Marion.

John Ryan was a few feet away, scanning the area. He gave Abbie a nod, but remained at his post. She had heard that homicide detectives routinely attended the funerals of murder victims in the hope the killer would show up, but she was doubtful. What killer would be foolish enough to show his face here?

On the other side of the casket, standing alone and not looking at any of them, was Liz. Abbie wouldn’t have recognized her any more than she had recognized Ian. The long, mousy brown hair had been colored a muted shade of blond, and styled in a sleek page boy, with one side tucked behind her ear, allowing the other to spill forward and obscure part of her face. She was heavier than Abbie remembered, more voluptuous and not without a certain sex appeal.

She showed no emotion as the minister began talking about redemption and eternal peace. Yet, for reasons she couldn’t explain, Abbie felt sorry for her. For all the dreams Liz had entertained as a teenager, and the exciting life she had led for a brief time with Jude Tilly, she had ended up all alone.

Beside her, Irene gripped her arm. “Is that Liz?” she asked in a whisper.

“Yes,” Abbie whispered back.

“She’s very pretty.”

“Yes, she is.”

“Should we go talk to her? After the service?”

God, no. That was the last thing Abbie wanted. “She doesn’t want to talk to us, Mom.”

“You don’t know that.”

Abbie didn’t reply, but Irene persisted. “I don’t think it’s right, coming to her brother’s funeral and then ignoring her. She was family once.”

There was no point in arguing with her. Nowadays, when Irene made up her mind about something, she fought relentlessly until she got her way. “I tell you what,” Abbie said diplomatically. “After the service, you and Marion go wait in the car and I’ll go say hello to Liz and see if she wants to chat for a few minutes. If she does, I’ll bring her over. How’s that?”

Looking satisfied, Irene gave a short nod and returned her attention to the minister.

The service was brief and unemotional, except for Rose’s soft sobs. As Liz started walking toward the minister, apparently to thank him, Abbie asked Marion to take her mother to the car, told John and Rose she would see them later, and walked around the open grave. When Liz turned around to leave, Abbie stepped up. “Hi, Liz,” she said quietly. “I’m Abbie.” Hostile dark eyes met hers. “I know who you are, Abbie.” Her voice was deep and scratchy. “And quite frankly, I’m surprised to see you here. Unless you want to make sure Ian is really dead.”

“I’m here because Rose asked me to be.” Liz’s chin jutted forward a little, reminding Abbie of the rebellious teenager she had once been. “Did you kill him, Abbie?”

“You know I didn’t.”

“I know you hated him, and wanted him dead.” “I wanted him out of my life,” Abbie snapped, and then forced herself to relax. An outright confrontation was not what she had in mind. “You know my mother could never

do what Ian accused her of. He and his sick friend made it all up so they could extort money from me.”

“Is that your version?”

“That’s the truth.”

Liz’s hard gaze softened. “Look, if you’re worried I’ll make a scene, or say something to Irene, relax, okay? I’m not going to do that. I know about her condition. I’m angry, yes, but I’m not a monster.”

“How do you know about my mother’s condition?”

“Ian told me.”

“How did he know?” But the answer to that was clear. He had been snooping.

Liz shrugged. “I have no idea how he knew. Does it matter? It’s the truth, isn’t it? Irene has Alzheimer’s?”

“Yes, it’s the truth.”

“I’m sorry.”

Something in Liz’s almost gentle tone made Abbie wonder if the woman was really as tough as she tried to appear. People who lived alone often developed a thick, protective outer layer that enabled them to cope with life’s many inconsistencies. Considering the ups and downs Liz had encountered over the years, was it any great surprise she kept her true feelings to herself?

Encouraged, Abbie asked, “Are you staying at the Clearwater with Rose?”

“I was. I checked out.”

Abbie did some quick thinking. Would there be any harm in inviting her and Irene to the house for a while? She could make some sandwiches and pretend they were all a big happy family. How hard could that be?

“Look,” she said, “I know it would be unrealistic of me to expect us to be friends after all this time, but...could we at least be civil to each other? We were family once,” she added, borrowing the line from her mother.

Liz let out a brittle laugh. “You’re still a dreamer, aren’t you, Abbie? Just like you used to be.”

A gust of wind blew across the wide expanse of grass, lifting Liz’s hair. At the sight of the ugly scar on the right side of her face. Abbie couldn’t suppress a wince.

Liz caught the look and quickly smoothed her hair back in place.

“I’m sorry,” Abbie said. “I didn’t mean to stare.”

“That’s okay. Everybody does.”

“Is that from the fire?”

“What else?”

“I thought you had plastic surgery.”

“I did. This side of my face was the most seriously burned and couldn’t be taken care of at the same time as the rest. When the time came to do the surgery, I decided I’d had enough.”

“I’m so sorry, Liz. You have a right to be angry, even bitter, but not at my mother. She didn’t cause this.”

Liz looked suddenly flustered, as if Abbie’s show of compassion had caught her unprepared and she didn’t know how to handle it. “I’ve got to go.” She started to turn away.

“Liz, wait. I thought...I mean, I was wondering...” She glanced toward the Acura again and saw her mother watching her. “I thought we could all go to my house for a light lunch.”

“Thanks, but I need to get back. I’m working tonight.”

But Abbie wasn’t ready to let her go just yet. She planted herself firmly in front of her. “Don’t you want to know anything about me?”

“Ian told me everything I need to know. You’re a famous, successful chef. You have a lovely home, a son.”

“His name is Ben. He’s nine years old, and he loves baseball.”

“You’re very lucky.”

Relieved that Liz no longer showed signs of hostility, Abbie decided now was a good time to find out more about her stepsister. “You and Jude didn’t want children?”

Liz glanced toward a gray sedan, the only car left except for the Acura. For a moment, Abbie thought Liz was simply going to walk around her and leave. She surprised her. “Not at first. We were having too much fun. When we finally decided the time had come to start a family, I found out I couldn’t have children.”

News of Liz’s sterility came as a shock. “I’m sorry,” Abbie said softly. “I had no idea.”

“No one did. Both Jude and I agreed to keep that part of our lives to ourselves. It was just too painful to share with others.”

At the little catch in Liz’s voice, Abbie was filled with an incredible sadness. No matter how little she and Liz had in common, Abbie was certain her stepsister would have made a good mother. She wasn’t sure what made her ask the next question. “Would you like to meet Ben?”

“There you go again, trying to be a pal. I told you it won’t work.”

“How do you know until you try?”

“Give it a rest, Abbie, will you?” Liz glanced toward the car again, hesitated for a moment as though she was reconsidering the offer. Then, with a shake of her head, she walked past Abbie and headed for the sedan.

When Abbie returned to Campagne following the funeral, Brady was standing outside the restaurant, which hadn’t opened for lunch yet.