Death Angel (46 page)

Her fingers shook as the match touched
the wick, the tiny flame a beacon of hope in the darkened cabin. She didn’t need
to see the message in Carl’s eyes to know it was time for action. Turning, she
faced Mike.

The gathering darkness had taken a toll
on his nerves. His face was flushed and seemed bloated.
 

“Try anything, Kate, and I’ll blow your
head off.” He pointed the gun at her face.

“I want to ask a question.”

“What question? I don’t have to tell you
anything more.”

“I know you don’t, but it’s something I
still don’t understand. Was Richard in the forest preserve the day Jenny died?”

He stared at her without speaking for a
full minute. Kate remained motionless under his glance, afraid that her
slightest quiver would put him off.
 

“Yes.”

“Was he with you?”

His mouth slowly widened into a smile.
“You don’t know, do you?”

At his expression, Kate stepped back a
pace, sorry now that she’d asked the question.

“Leave her alone,” Carl said.

The interruption startled Mike who had
been concentrating on Kate. He seemed to have forgotten they weren’t alone. He
whirled to face Carl, gun swinging back and forth between the two.

“Stay out of this, Leidecker!” he
shouted. “If it hadn’t been for her, the case would be closed. Her constant
snooping has cost me everything. I had money, social contacts, and a position
of respect.” He swung back to Kate, his expression ugly. “If I’d known how much
trouble you’d be, I’d have killed you a long time ago.”

Kate held perfectly still. In Mike’s
present state, she suspected she was as good as dead if she so much as blinked.
Carl must have sensed it too.

“Listen to me, Mike. Don’t hurt her. If
it hadn’t been for Kate’s absolute belief in you, we might have focused more
carefully on you. Because of her, you still have a chance. Don’t do anything in
haste. If the police get here before you can get away, you can use us as
hostages to negotiate for better terms. Hell, you can probably work out some
kind of a movie deal.”

The touch of humor got through to Mike.
In relief, Kate watched the apoplectic color fade from his face.
 

“I’m sorry I made you angry,” she said.
“All I wanted to know was why Richard was in the forest preserve.”

Mike turned to face her. His smile was
nasty. “Richard was picking up someone.”

“An affair?”

“More like a brief encounter. He wasn’t
interested in a relationship. He just wanted sex. And for that, any man would
do.”

For a moment she didn’t understand. When
it dawned on her what Mike meant, her face must have reflected her shock. Mike
laughed.

“Shocked to discover your husband was a
queen?”
 

“Chris knew, didn’t he?”

“Knew that Richard swung both ways? Yes.
I used to think that Chris was gay, but Richard said no. In my opinion, he is,
but too afraid to act on it. Whether Chris knew it or not, he loved Richard and
covered for him the last couple years while Richard was trying to decide if he
preferred boys or girls.”

“That Glen Sather Carl mentioned
earlier. Was he Richard’s —?”

“Lover?” Mike was enjoying her
awkwardness. “Richard said Glen wanted to go to the police. I called Richard
and used the whispery voice and told him if he didn’t meet me, I’d go to the police,
and tell them about Sather.”

“That’s why he was soaking wet. He
wasn’t waiting for Hepburn. He was waiting for a blackmailer.”

So many things that had puzzled her were
falling into place. No wonder Richard had lied. He couldn’t face the
consequences of exposure. And with the lie, he became a suspect in the rape and
murder of his own daughter. A heinous crime committed by his best friend.
 

God, how she loathed Mike! She darted a
quick glance at Carl. He blinked once. It was time.

An icy calm descended over Kate and her
hands were steady as she picked up the lantern. She held it lightly, her
fingertips caressing the smooth metal. With faltering steps, she limped across
to the table. She raised the lantern to set it down and with all her strength
threw it directly at Mike.

The lantern struck him a glancing blow
on the shoulder. The glass shattered, spewing kerosene and shards of glass
across the floor. In a flash of light, the kerosene ignited.

Mike jumped up away from the flames. He
leveled the gun at Kate’s face and pulled the trigger. When nothing happened,
he stared down at it. It took him several seconds to figure out why it hadn’t
fired. With a smile of pure malevolence, he pushed the safety lever down and
raised the gun again.

With a flying leap, Carl slammed into
Mike, knocking him to the floor.
 

As the men fought, flames raced along
the floor and up the wall. Kate raced into the bedroom, grabbed her sleeping
bag and used it to beat out the flames. She dropped the sleeping bag and raced
back to the table. Her fingertips brushed the knife hilt just as the men
careened into the table, overturning it. The hunting knife disappeared.

In the shadowed light inside the cabin,
she couldn’t even tell which man was on top of the grunting, heaving pile, fighting
for possession of the gun.

A shot exploded, curiously muffled but
still terrifying. Straining her eyes, Kate saw Carl’s body jerk in a spasm of
pain, but he still held Mike in a viselike grip.

“Get out, Kate,” Carl shouted. “Run.”

Twenty-nine

“
Run, Kate
!”

With only a momentary hesitation, Kate
whirled around, pulled the door open and raced outside. She ran down the bank
and splashed into the water of the lagoon.
 

She didn’t even consider taking the
boat. The water was safer. The mud sucked at her feet and she hurled herself
forward into a low dive. She dove again, heading for the weed beds. She gasped
for breath but didn’t stop until she’d wriggled into the concealing center of a
clump of cattails. Knowing that her shirt would be easy to spot, she submerged
her body up to her neck.

Another shot rang out, and she covered
her mouth to muffle the sound of her sobs. Her breathing and the pounding of
her heart were deafening. She began to shake and she put her arms around her
waist, huddling down in the water.
 

Eyes at water level, she pulled the
marsh grass apart until she could see the cabin across the lagoon. As if she
were watching a play, the clouds parted and the stage was lit up with
moonlight.
 

A figure stood in the doorway of the
cabin, holding the sides of the frame. It was Carl.
 

He took a step forward, then another.
Suddenly he dropped to his knees and in slow motion, crumpled sideways onto the
ground. She waited but could see no movement. Hands over her mouth, Kate sobbed
silently into the night.
 

Where was Mike? Was he dead too?

Frantic as she was to get away, she knew
she had to wait until she knew what had happened to Mike. Suddenly she spotted
the beam of a flashlight inside the cabin. Moments later there was movement at
the door. Mike came out, carrying his duffel bag. His white face and bare arms
stood out starkly in contrast to the maroon shirt and navy slacks that blended
into the dark background. He stood motionless, staring out over the lagoon.
 

“Kate?”

Mike’s voice was a breath on the wind
and she recognized the sound of the Whisperer. She bent her head close to the
water and closed her eyes so she wouldn’t draw his gaze.

“Kate, I’m leaving. I’m sorry.”
 

Head turned away, she remained where she
was. She opened her eyes when she heard the motor drop into the water. The boat
was in the lagoon and Mike stood in the stern, pulling the cord for the motor.
It caught the first time. He feathered it lightly, then sat down, and steered
the boat toward the wall of marsh grass that hid the channel. In an instant the
boat was swallowed up, and all she could hear was the sound of the motor fading
away.

When she could no longer hear anything,
Kate swam out from behind the cattails. She treaded water while she stared at
Carl, lying on the beach. He hadn’t moved, but she needed to check if he was
alive. She was reasonably certain that Mike was gone, escaping while he could,
but she’d have to be careful. If he returned, she’d have enough warning to make
a dash for the woods behind the cabin.

She swam to shore and after one more
searching glance, she squished through the mud and up onto the bank. Running
over to Carl, she dropped down beside him, rolled him over onto his back and
felt for a pulse in his neck. Beneath her fingers, his heart beat slowly.

“Oh, thank you, God!” Taking only enough
time to whisper another prayer of thanksgiving, Kate examined him.
 

His right side was soaked with blood.
She pulled the knit shirt out of his pants, easing it up until she could see
the wound. It wasn’t as bad as she’d expected. The bullet had sliced across his
ribcage, scoring a groove about four inches long. It wasn’t deep, so unless a
rib had been broken and there was internal bleeding, it wouldn’t be fatal.

The other wound was worse. About four inches
below his shoulder, a small hole penetrated the outside of his right arm.
Turning the arm over, she gagged. The skin was shredded where the bullet had
torn its way through. Ugly as the wound looked, at least it wasn’t gushing
blood. If she could bandage it up, he wouldn’t bleed to death.

She was surprised that with all the
pushing around Carl hadn’t regained consciousness. His breathing was steady.
She reached up to touch his forehead and her hand came away wet with blood.

Getting to her feet, she hurried up to
the darkened cabin, searching the shelf beside the door until she found a pack
of matches. Her hands were shaking so badly, it took her several tries before
she could light one. Her eyes darted around the room. Everything was in a
shambles from the fight.
 

Just before the flame went out, she
spotted her little flashlight. She dropped to her hands and knees and crawled
across the floor, wincing as the glass from the lantern cut her knees. She felt
around until her fingers touched the plastic casing of the flashlight.
 

The beam came on and she flashed the
light around the room. She spotted Richard’s penknife on the floor. In the
bedroom, she snatched several blouses out of her suitcase, and pulled Mike’s
sleeping bag off the cot.
 

She tossed the sleeping bag over her
shoulder and hurried back into the main room. She picked up the water jug and
started for the door.
 

In the beam of the flashlight she saw
the first-aid kit on the shelf beside the cooler. She juggled the items in her
hands and reached for it.

Back outside, she stood beside him,
wondering whether she had time to bandage him before she went for help. If she
didn’t, he’d probably die of shock or loss of blood.

Using the penknife, she cut the back out
of one of her blouses. She soaked it with water from the jug and washed off all
the dirt she could see on the wounds. The right side of his face was swollen,
but the cut on his head appeared to be only a shallow laceration. She opened
the first-aid kit and found gauze dressings and adhesive tape. She dealt
quickly with his head, then wiped away the blood on his ribcage and covered the
groove with the dressings, taping them in place.
 

Carl’s whole body was limp as she
examined the bullet hole on his arm and taped dressings to the top. She used
several for the ragged skin on the other side. With the last of her shirts, she
tied the dressings securely.

Just as Kate finished, the moonlight
disappeared behind a cloud. When her eyes adjusted to the change in light, she
unzipped the sleeping bag and spread it out. Carefully she rolled him onto his
side and slid the bag under him. Setting him back down, she folded the other
half over him and zipped it up to his chest. With the last of the water, she
wiped his face clean then let a few drops trickle across his partially open
lips. She felt the muscles in his throat move as he swallowed.

Carl groaned and opened his eyes.
 

“Kate?” His voice was raspy, and she
barely heard her name.

“I’m here. I’m going for help.”

His throat worked. “Mike?”

“He’s gone. Do you understand?”

His eyelids fluttered.

“Don’t you dare die on me, Leidecker,”
she said. “I need you.”

“I need you too.”

Tears filled her eyes as she stared down
at him. How had she gone from hating him to feeling that she would die if she
lost him? She stroked the side of his face and he sighed.

“Careful.”

He blinked several times, but then his
eyes closed. His breathing was so soft she had to press her head to his chest
to hear the sound of his heart.