Haunting Refrain (34 page)

Panicked, she flew down the steps and ran for the basement door. She heard him at the back door. Too close! She veered off and ran full tilt for the French doors at the other end of the house. She saw the keyed deadbolt from across the room and knew she would never get out through the door. Grabbing a brass lamp, she swung it with all her might at the nearest window, smashing the framed panes. She drew back and swung
again,
making an opening she could get through.

Thomas’s heavy footsteps pounded down the hallway and into the den. She dived through the hole, scraping her arms over the broken glass and splintered wood, and rolled to her feet on the terrace.

Without a backward glance, she fled. Rounding the corner of the hedge near the front of his lot, she heard the door bang. The seconds it had taken him to unlock the deadbolt had given her enough of a start, and she wasn’t going to let him catch her now. She could hear him running across the lawn behind her. Kate flew across the ground, angled sharply to the right and ran behind the neighbor’s house, cutting across lots, dodging behind any cover she could find. Dogs began barking in several of the houses. A fat cocker spaniel burst out of a dog door and chased her across his territory, but stopped abruptly at the edge of his yard.
Thank goodness for trained animals
. When the dog trotted back toward the house, she realized no one was behind her and slowed, panting hard. Her heart thudded against her chest.

Taking advantage of any cover she could, Kate worked her way toward her car. She hoped Thomas wouldn’t have seen it. He wouldn’t necessarily know it had been her, but she was sure he would guess. She hadn’t been subtle about her search. He hadn’t been subtle about wanting to kill her, either, she thought, picturing her slashed bed. She reached the bare landscape of the homes still under construction and looked carefully around before sprinting across the scrap-littered yard like a broken field runner. The hot black car felt wonderful to her, safe.

She was still shaking when she pulled up at the studio. “James Earl!”

The gray head popped out of his doorway immediately. “Lock the door behind me. Don’t let anyone in except John or the police.”

He started for the door. “Mr.
Gerrard’s
been here looking for you. He’s gone to
Miz
Ashburton’s
now. I locked your studio.”

“Bless you,” she said, giving him a quick kiss. Her heart still pounded at full speed, and her whole body trembled from the surge of adrenaline. She could barely punch the elevator button. She had to get those photographs and call Detective Burnett. When he saw the prints and the earrings, still tucked in her pocket, he'd have to act. Surely Thomas wouldn’t go right to Gwen. If nothing else, he would want to secure his house again, she reasoned. She didn’t think he'd call the police. He had no reason to be suspicious of Gwen, so maybe he'd forget the lunch date or cancel it.

As soon as she got inside the studio, she slung her purse onto the desk and snatched the phone, dialing Gwen’s number.
Still no answer.
Without waiting for the answering machine, she dialed
Venice
’s number.

Venice
answered before the end of the first ring. She skipped the preliminaries. “Where are you? Are you all right?”

“
Venice
, I’ve got it. It’s—”

“
Dammit
, Kate!”
John’s voice cut in. Where the hell are you?”

“The studio.
It’s Thomas Andrews,” Kate said, dragging the phone into the darkroom. “He’s going to kill Gwen. Has she called there?” Kate stretched, but couldn’t hold the phone and reach the photographs hanging on the clothesline. Where were the ones of Thomas? Frustrated, she squinted at the pictures. “Do you have the pictures from the darkroom? I have to have them for the police.”
Oh, God, he had to have them
.

“Yes, and do not,
do not
move until I get there, or I’ll kill you myself.” His voice, harsh with fear, trailed off.

Venice
’s voice came back. “Kate,
it’s
Thomas Andrews. His mother has—”

“Later,
Venice
.
We’ve got to find Gwen.” She squinted at the picture of Charlene, trying vainly to see the earrings. “Have you heard from her? She was meeting Thomas for lunch.”

“No. I’ll call some of her favorite restaurants,” she said, asking no questions. “Wait for John before you go anywhere, Kate. He’s been frantic with worry. And be careful!”

Kate hung up just as the studio door exploded inward. She spun around to see Thomas Andrews lunging at her, his contorted face crimson, hands outstretched.

She threw up her arms and dodged sideways, the memory of those reaching hands rushing back. She avoided the main thrust of his weight, but he knocked her off balance. She grabbed at her bag as she fell. If she could reach her keys—

Thomas, off balance himself, scrambled to his feet, swiped at her with one hand. She twisted away but couldn’t get to her feet. The toe of his leather wingtip caught her keys, sending them skittering under the desk, out of reach. He loomed over her, chest heaving, and lifted his right leg, swinging the heavy leather shoe toward her. She rolled away, screaming as his foot connected with her shoulder, paralyzing her right arm.

He was too big, too fast, and she knew she would never get away from him. She had to fight, and pray for a miracle.

Holding the useless arm against her side, she got one foot under her and pushed off, plowing into his legs with all her strength. He buckled, but caught himself on the desk. She clambered to her feet, casting about for a weapon. Her desk held a stapler and a tape dispenser, but Thomas blocked the way. A brass lamp stood at the end of the sofa, too far.

He came at her again. She dodged, but he caught her arm and slammed her into the desk. She kicked and twisted, trying to break his hold, but he held her arm in a vise grip. He drew back his fist, spittle flying from his lips. She ducked and jerked her head away. The blow glanced off her cheek, snapping her head back. Tears blurred her vision.

Thomas’s arms suddenly began flailing the air as his feet flew out from under him. Kate backed up, amazed, and saw
Venice
’s little crystal ball shoot out from under his foot.
Thank you, Ramses
. Thomas’s head smacked the floor, causing him to blink but not go out.

Panting heavily, she watched him. She knew she could never get away before he recovered. She had to disable him. She leapt, landing with both knees on his midriff. The air whooshed from his lungs, leaving him gasping helplessly. The lamp! She rolled off him and clambered to her feet, scrambling for the lamp. She reached for it just as his hand closed around her ankle. He released her just as quickly. Grabbing the lamp, she swung around to see John yank Thomas upright, smashing his fist into the snarling face.

They grappled, rolling across the floor. Suddenly Thomas was on top. She lifted the lamp as John twisted out from under the pounding fist. They moved so fast, she was afraid to use it. Both men staggered to their feet. Kate backed against the wall. John pivoted on one foot and kicked, catching Thomas’s side. Thomas faltered, giving Kate an opening. She swung the lamp with all her might, catching the top of his head. Thomas doubled over and John brought his knee up hard into Thomas’s face. He went down, clutching his bleeding nose, rolling across the floor in agony.

“Well done, Gerrard,” Lynne Waite’s cool voice said.

Kate and John whirled toward the door, where Detectives Waite and Burns stood, guns in hand. A siren screamed in the distance.

John, still panting, grabbed Kate. “How did you know?” he asked Waite.

“The maintenance man managed a nine-one-one call. Dill and
Wolynski
recognized the address and responded. They called us.” Waite stepped further into the room. Officer Dill stood in the hall, just behind Burnett. He nodded.

“
Wolynski’s
downstairs, waiting for the ambulance,” Burnett said.

“Ambulance?
Is James Earl hurt?” Fear for the old man slammed into her. Kate pushed past John toward the door.

Holding out her hand to stop Kate, Waite said, “He’s woozy but coherent. Mister Andrews here clobbered him with a rock when he opened the door, but he crawled to his phone and called for help.”

“The paramedics can check out this one, too,” Burnett said, crossing to Thomas, who had struggled to a sitting position. Blood dripped from his nose.

Looking at John, Burnett dipped his head in Thomas’s direction.
“Golden Gloves?”

“South Philly.”

“Ah.” The detective nodded knowingly.

“You?”

“
Newark
.”

“Um.”
John nodded.

Mystified, Kate stared at the two men. She didn’t know what had gone on, but she got the distinct feeling some sort of bond had been established.

Waite, in exaggerated disgust, muttered, “Men!”

They heard the siren enter the parking lot below and stop. A glimmer of flashing red light shone on the windows. Waite looked out.
“Paramedics.
They’ll take care of him.”

Grim-faced, the three police officers moved to where Thomas sat on his heels, holding his head and rocking back and forth. At a signal from Burnett, Dill pulled the quiescent man’s arms behind him and slid the handcuffs over his wrists. Burnett said, “I’m arresting you for the attack on the James Earl Withers.” He explained his rights to Thomas, who mumbled a vague response.

He hadn’t had time to meet Gwen.
Kate, holding her hand against her throbbing cheek, sagged against John, fighting back tears of relief.
It was over
.

“Are you all right?” Waite asked, noting Kate’s swelling cheek and reddened throat. At Kate’s nod, she added, “You’d better sit down.”

John led her to the sofa and sat beside her, keeping one arm around her, gently stroking her hand with the other.

Waite leaned against the edge of the desk. When they were settled, she said, “Now. Who wants to start?”

The whine of the elevator through the open studio door interrupted them.
Venice
stepped through before the gates were fully opened, Martin right behind her. “Oh, Kate,” she cried. “Are you all right? I can’t find Gwen, and I know something’s wrong with her.”

All eyes turned to Thomas Andrews, who stared back with a triumphant smirk on his bloodied, once-elegant face.
“The bitch.”

Fury washed over Kate like a red tide. Before anyone could respond to Thomas’s imprecation, she surged upward and rounded the skewed coffee table, reaching for Thomas.
“You bastard!
What have you done to her?”

Waite stepped quickly in front of Thomas, blocking her. “Hold it, Kate. We’ll find her.”

John wrapped his arms around her, pinning her against his chest, murmuring, “Cool it, Kate,
cool
it. Let the cops deal with him.”

Burnett already had the phone in his hand. “What’s her name and address?”

Kate and
Venice
answered together. Burnett turned his back and spoke rapidly into the phone. He hung up and said to them, “They’re dispatching a car to her house right away.” Forestalling the question on Kate’s lips, he added, “I told them it’s an emergency. They’ll break in if they have to.”

Waite was leaning over Thomas, who was shaking his head with his lips tightly sealed, like a child refusing to tell a secret. Disgusted, she turned back to Kate and
Venice
. “Tell us what happened. What does Ms. Gordon have to do with this?”