A Dawn of Death (28 page)

Still, Helen wasn't as foolish as her nieces believed, and she didn't take unnecessary chances. She was about to break and run back to the sidewalk when RJ suddenly bent and hoisted her onto his shoulder in a fireman's carry. She'd always thought it was a lifesaving maneuver, but now she realized it was also a position of control, one that was difficult to get out of, at least when the person doing the carry was experienced and strong. Sharp pain radiated from her hip with each step he took, robbing her of breath.

Within seconds, RJ had them both over the Jersey barriers and hidden behind the bulk of the bulldozer. He set her down on the track as gently as if she were one of the wounded soldiers he used to treat, but he didn't release her. He searched her until he found her phone and stuck it in his own pocket. Then he kept his left hand securely around her right wrist while he continued into the dozer's cab and started the engine. RJ must have had the key all this time, which was why the police hadn't been able to find it.

Helen had been too startled and breathless to scream for help, and now it was too late. No one would hear her over the engine.

RJ climbed back down from the cab, leaving the engine running while he sat next to her, his legs dangling like hers over the edge of the track.

Curiosity overrode her fear. It took an effort to make herself heard over the roar of the engine, but she asked, "Isn't there supposed to be a kill switch for the engine when the operator isn't in the seat?"

"Of course." Even shouting, his voice was even and hypnotic, probably something he'd learned to do while in the army, working with injured patients in a combat setting. "But I learned in the army that there's always a way to override safety controls when the situation calls for it."

"What's the situation today?" she asked as if she hadn't figured out what he had done to Sheryl and was planning to do to her.

"You're the situation," RJ said, reaching behind him to snatch two safety helmets from the cab. He put one on Helen, securing the chin strap on her before donning the other helmet himself. He certainly wasn't concerned about her safety. Instead, it was a disguise of sorts. Anyone who happened to catch a glimpse of them from one of the upper-level windows in the Wharton Meadows' residential units would think they were just a couple of Toth Construction employees reclaiming the bulldozer.

RJ continued, "You should have let me take you to the hospital the other day and then stayed home to rest. No need to keep poking into Sheryl's death. Just let the cops do their job."

Helen used the handle of the cultivator she was still holding to tilt her helmet back. She wanted to be sure she could see where she was going if an opportunity to escape arose. "Does it really matter who figures out the killer's identity, me or Detective Peterson?"

"I've known Hank all my life and vice versa. He'll never suspect me without your interference, and he's all too willing to blame Dale." RJ took a deep breath. "I'm really sorry. I'll make it quick so you don't suffer. But it's your life or mine, and I can't sacrifice myself this time. My father needs me."

"You don't have to silence me," Helen said. "Detective Peterson never believes anything I say."

"I can't take that risk," RJ said. "But you've got a reputation for taking crazy risks. That's what everyone's going to say when they find your body right where you found Sheryl's."

Helen shivered, briefly contemplating how it would feel to be chased and then run over by a bulldozer.

She had to stop thinking about RJ's plans and make some of her own. She considered climbing up into the cab and barricading herself in, maybe even driving it just far enough to shake RJ off the track. Assuming she could figure out how to operate it, which wasn't likely since she hadn't even driven a car in more years than she could recall.

Besides, she'd had trouble getting out of the chair in Quattrone's office because of her hip's renewed stiffness, and the ride on RJ's shoulder hadn't done it any good. She had no chance of climbing up into the cab now.

No, her best bet was to keep RJ talking until Barry arrived. She wasn't sure how she'd get the cab driver's attention, but she'd think of something.

"None of this make any sense," Helen shouted over the engine's noise. "How could you kill anyone? You've dedicated your life to helping people."

RJ snorted. "And look where that got me. Besides, it's not like I wanted to kill anyone. Sheryl was an accident. I'd been up all night with Dad, and he'd just finally gone to sleep, and then she had to drive her bulldozer down the street and into the garden at the crack of dawn, right outside Dad's window. She woke him up, and for what? To play mind games, letting everyone know she was going to buy the land and plow everyone's garden under, and there was nothing that anyone could do about it."

RJ gave her a gentle push to indicate she should get down from their makeshift seat. She resisted, knowing that once she was on the ground, it would be impossible to continue their conversation, and he could get on with his murderous plan. Her voice was growing hoarse from speaking over the engine's noise, but she had to keep talking. "You must have been furious."

"I just wanted her to turn off the engine, and she wouldn't. Said she might as well dig up the stumps as long as she was there. Make it seem like she was only trying to be helpful."

"It might have been an accident when Sheryl died, but you won't have that excuse if anything happens to me."

"It was definitely an accident." RJ insisted. "She stopped the dozer so we could talk, and I climbed up to pull the key out of the ignition. Everything would have been fine if she hadn't tried to get it back from me. She overbalanced and fell and hit her head on the stump. She was dead before I could climb down to help her."

"You didn't have to cover it up. You could have just told the truth."

"If I hadn't been so exhausted, I probably would have," RJ said. "But I wasn't thinking straight. All I could think of was that if I was arrested, even if they didn't end up charging me, it would still take me away from Dad too much, and he needs me. He doesn't have much time left, and I couldn't risk that we'd be separated for the last months of his life. So I started up the bulldozer again and made it look like she'd simply had an equipment accident. I'd seen a few during my time in the army, so I knew how it could happen."

RJ renewed his effort to push Helen down to the ground. Even if she hadn't lost a great deal of muscle strength in the last few years, she couldn't have won a physical contest with him. His size and testosterone gave him considerably more upper body strength than she had, and she couldn't use her legs for leverage since they didn't reach the ground.

She started to scoot sideways, belatedly realizing that she still held the cultivator in her left hand, on the side away from RJ. She couldn't do anything with it while in this precarious position on the track, but it might come in useful once she had her feet on solid ground. The metal end might look odd, but the handle was solid enough even for Tate's approval.

Rather than fighting RJ's attempts to push her off the track, Helen pretended to surrender, hoping to take him by surprise later. She slid onto the ground, keeping the cultivator out of his line of sight while maintaining a tight grip on it.

"I'm sorry," he said again. "If it helps, you should know that I'm planning to turn myself in after Dad's gone. I just can't let you tell anyone before then."

Helen knew she'd run out of time. If she didn't do something now, it was going to be too late. She whirled the cultivator until she held it like a bat, the metal end close to her elbow, two hands gripping the handle, and swung it at RJ's head.

He fell off the track with a startled oath, landing on his side.

She tried to race out from behind the bulldozer, only to be caught in what felt like a nightmare where she needed to run from danger, but her legs were moving in slow motion. She wasn't completely stuck, but she was hobbling at an ambling pace, and she could hear RJ moving behind her. She hadn't been strong enough to knock him out, so it wouldn't take long for him to catch her.

Just keep going
, she told herself. One step, then another. All she had to do was get out from behind the bulldozer so she could be seen from the street. She made it around to the front of the blade and began waving her arms, aware that a scream for help wouldn't be heard over the engine's noise.

There wasn't anyone in sight, so she kept moving forward. She was almost all the way past the front of the blade when she remembered the safety helmet that made her look like a Toth Construction employee. She was fumbling with the chin strap when her foot hit something, jarring her hip and causing her to stumble and fall. She managed to toss the helmet aside on her way down. She glanced back at what had tripped her. It was a small rock about the size of a baseball.

RJ shouted something, although she couldn't make out the words over the sound of the bulldozer's engine. All that mattered was that he'd recovered enough to be able to talk, which meant he was going to be chasing her down any second now.

Helen pushed herself to her knees, desperate to get as far away from RJ and the bulldozer as possible. She also needed to get some eyes looking in this direction so there'd be too many witnesses for RJ to do anything.

She couldn't yell loudly enough to be heard over the bulldozer's engine, but she knew what would make a loud enough sound to be heard. She scanned the road in front of her. There it was, parked in its usual spot next to the Averys' driveway—the little black sports car with the overly sensitive alarm system.

RJ shouted again, and this time, the words were a little clearer. He was visible behind the blade of the bulldozer now. Helen would never make it all the way to the car in the street to trip the alarm before RJ caught up to her.

If only she hadn't dropped the cultivator, she could have thrown it at the car. She'd probably have missed, though. Javelin throwing wasn't her sport. Softball was.

Wait.

She needed a ball. Or a rock that size. Like the one she'd just tripped over.

She scrabbled for it, confirming that it was indeed the size of the balls she'd once been very accurate with.

Helen whispered a promise to pay for any damage, aimed for the black sports car, and let the rock fly.

Helen might not have much strength these days, but somewhat to her surprise, she found that her eye-hand coordination for pitching was still intact.

The rock hit the sports car with a solid thud, the alarm blared, and Helen could practically feel the gaze of people looking down from the windows across the street.

All that was left was to convince RJ it was over. She turned to face him but continued to back away, toward the street.

RJ was holding his head where she'd hit him hard enough to cause blood to drip between his fingers.

"It's over." Helen's voice was gone after all the shouting she'd done. Her words were barely a whisper.

RJ should have been able to figure it out on his own, but perhaps the blow to his head had him not thinking clearly because he kept advancing on Helen. She continued slowly walking backwards, praying there weren't any more rocks for her to stumble over.

He caught up to her in just a few strides and reached for her the way he'd done before when he'd put her into the fireman's carry. He bent, ducking his head toward her waist, only to come to an abrupt halt, grab his head, and drop to his knees.

At the same time, she heard her name being shouted from behind her.

RJ looked up, and there was something about his expression that suggested he finally realized he'd lost. His eyes were unfocused—she hadn't been able to knock him out completely, but she'd probably given him a concussion—and beginning to fill with tears. "I'm sorry. Truly. I just wanted to be with my Dad a little longer."

And then Tate was there, a solid barrier between her and RJ. The relief of knowing she was safe robbed her of the adrenaline that had kept her going, and she collapsed to sit on the ground. A moment later, Barry arrived and gently took RJ by the arm, leading him over to the taxi. As they left, Helen caught snippets of chanted prayer and promises to make sure Richard Avery Sr. was well taken care of.

Someone must have retrieved the key from the bulldozer, because the engine stopped suddenly, its echo continuing to ring in her ears. Or maybe it was the approaching sirens. Someone must have called the police.

Tate was saying something, but she couldn't make out the words. She shook her head to clear it.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice still reduced to a whisper. "What did you say?"

"We need to talk." Tate knelt beside her and pulled her close so she could lean against him. He had lowered his voice to match hers, except his held a note of suppressed anger.

"It's not my fault," Helen said, grateful for his physical support. She would rather not collapse right now in front of the gawkers and especially not in front of the police. She didn't need to give Hank Peterson any more reasons to lecture her about getting involved in murder investigations. "I didn't do anything. I was just waiting here for a ride home."

He shook his head. "Not about that. I'm used to people trying to kill you. I meant about lunch yesterday. And why I'm not your lawyer any longer."

"I get it." She was too tired and sore for drama. It was going to take all her remaining energy just to stand up when the police arrived. "We're in a personal relationship. Casual or not, it means you can't also be my lawyer."

"That's the thing," he said. "I don't want it to be casual. I just thought you weren't ready for a committed relationship after your divorce. You kept saying you couldn't see any future for us because of your health, and you never let your lupus stop you when you want to do something, so I thought it was just an excuse to keep from making a commitment to me."

"I wouldn't lie to you. Ever. Not even little white ones. It's just one of the reasons why I want to be with you and not someone like Cory. He needs too much coddling." Helen took his hand, gesturing for him to help her to her feet. Anyone would need help after the ordeal she'd been through. "I thought
you
didn't want a committed relationship. You're always complaining about the way your alimony responsibilities kept you from doing what you wanted with your life. I didn't think you'd ever do anything that might cause you to go back to practicing law again."