Light in Shadow (28 page)

To his surprise,
the two-story Victorian-style house was dark. He could not see a car in the drive, but there was every possibility that it was inside the garage. Might be a dog, too.

Problems, problems.

But as long as he was in the vicinity, it wouldn't hurt to get a little closer.

He left the car in another stand of trees, this one near the edge of the lake, and prowled back toward his objective.

No dog barked when he got close to the house. He stopped to peer into the garage window and saw the dim outline of a vehicle inside.

Damn. The owner was home and no doubt asleep.

He wandered around to the back and saw a screened porch. On the other side of the screen, he could see the kitchen door.

So near and yet so far. He wondered if the occupant was a light sleeper.

No, he was not going to go in, he told himself. That would be really, really dumb. He would come back
tomorrow after the occupant left for work. That was the smart thing to do.

He examined the knob on the screen door. It would be a piece of cake. The rest of the locks were probably just as old and just as simple.

He took the gloves out of his pocket, tugged them on, and fiddled a little with the screen door. Experimenting.

The knob turned easily. Unlatched.

As long as he was this close, he might as well check the lock on the kitchen door. That way he would know what tools to bring tomorrow.

He opened the screen very slowly and crossed the porch. In the shadows, he could see the outline of two aging rattan chairs and a freezer. There was no hum from the freezer. It looked old. A large, half-filled garbage can stood immediately next to the kitchen door.

The kitchen door was unlocked, too. Not only unlocked but slightly ajar.

He eased the kitchen door open. From his vantage point, he could see through another doorway into the darkened living room.

Something was crumpled in a pool of moonlight on the floor in the front room. From where he stood, it looked a lot like a body.

There was always the possibility that the occupant had fallen asleep on the rug in front of the television, but he'd seen scenes like this one before.

He was pretty sure Fenella Leeds was not asleep.

He listened to the silence for a moment and then he entered. Maybe Leeds was not yet dead.

 

“You may as
well know that I'm planning to hand in my resignation soon,” Venetia said. “I will be leaving Candle Lake Manor. I intend to pursue my consulting work full-time. If things go as I believe they will, I may be able to use a junior partner.”

“Don't look at me,” Zoe said. “I've already got a day
job, and I like my new life in Whispering Springs. I'm not looking for another career with or without free therapy.”

“I'm not asking you to make a decision right now. But I want you to think about it. Speaking as your therapist, I can tell you that if you don't learn to deal with your special abilities, you will face the possibility of a serious mental breakdown.”

Zoe glanced surreptitiously at the antique tall clock in the corner. It was going on eleven. What the devil had happened to Ethan? He should have been back by now. How much longer did he expect her to keep Venetia occupied?

“The closest I ever came to an honest-to-goodness real-life meltdown was during my stay at the Manor,” she said. “If I survived that, I can survive anything. Which reminds me. I've got a question for you.”

Venetia brightened. “Yes, dear? What is it?”

“I know you must have been aware of Harper's scam, how he arranged to keep certain inmates, people like me, for example, safely doped up and tucked away for a price. But I've wondered all along how actively involved you were in it. Did he split some of the profits with you?”

Venetia blanched. “I have no idea what you're talking about.”

“Ah, come on, Doc. It's just us girls talking here. You can tell me. Did you actively assist him? Maybe provide second opinions when they were needed? Or did you just look the other way?”

“Are you suggesting that Dr. Harper deliberately misdiagnosed some of the patients at Candle Lake?”

“Uh-huh.”

“That's ridiculous. And, I must tell you, that it is an indication of a serious form of paranoia. You really do need my help.”

“Good thing I didn't take you up on your offer of a partnership, isn't it? Just think, you might have found yourself working with a crazy woman.”

 

Fenella Leeds was
dead. The rug beneath her was very wet. She had been shot at close range. Recently. The killer had no doubt entered the house the same way he himself had, Ethan thought. Through the kitchen door. He had probably left via the same route.

In the moonlight, he could see some signs of an intensive search. Not a desperate, chaotic toss. The manner in which the shelves had been emptied appeared methodical and orderly. Someone who knew what he was looking for and knew the places in which it was most likely to be found, he decided.

Time to call the cops.

Just as he started toward Fenella's phone, he noticed the three suitcases parked near the front door.

Fenella must have come straight home from work and started packing for a hasty departure from Candle Lake. There was only one good explanation for that move, as far as he could see: the arrival of Zoe and himself on the scene.

It fit with the scenario he had come up with after leaving Venetia McAlistair's house, he decided. As Harper's executive assistant, Fenella had inside knowledge and access to his corporate credit card number. She could have been the one who hired Radnor to track down Grady. But judging by the fact that she was now dead, it was pretty clear that she had not been working alone. And Grady's file indicated that it had been a man who had called the agency to request the trace.

The ceiling squeaked faintly overhead.

The flood of adrenaline in his veins suddenly became a full-blown tsunami.

Someone else was in the house.

He could make the call to the cops just as easily outside in the safety of the trees as he could standing here in the middle of the living room, he reminded himself.

He drifted back toward the kitchen door. The winking red light on the answering machine stopped him.

Had the killer called first to make sure Fenella was home?

He hit star 69.

Somewhere in the deep darkness at the top of the stairs, a phone rang.

That settled it, whoever was up there was probably the killer, and Ethan was pretty sure he knew who it was now.

It stopped ringing.

Ethan ran for the back porch. He pushed open the screen door and let it clatter shut, trying to give the impression of a man rushing away from the house.

But he did not go down the steps. He stayed on the porch, settling into the well of night next to the large garbage can.

An eternity of at least three minutes passed.

The stair treads creaked.

Another pause.

Footsteps inside the kitchen. The door opened cautiously.

After a few seconds, a figure exploded out the door.

Ethan had the garbage can ready, partially tipped on its side, balanced on the bottom rim. He shoved it straight into the fleeing man's path.

The figure shrieked in surprise and rage and then went down hard, tangling with the spilled garbage and the heavy can. A gun thudded heavily on the wooden floor of the porch.

Ethan moved, pinning the killer in a pile of food scraps and empty cartons.

“It's over, Drummer,” he said.

Al Drummer started to weep. “I loved her. I did it all for her. But she betrayed me. I had to kill her, don't you see? I had to do it.”

Zoe saw him
the instant he walked into the lobby. She had been watching for him from her post near the fire. He had phoned her twice, once just before he talked to the police and again when he had finished and was in the car driving back to the inn. She had gotten only the barest outlines of the situation from him on both occasions.

She flew across the room toward him, heedless of the crew working the front desk, and threw herself into his arms. He wrapped her close and kissed her hard.

“Are you okay?” she whispered.

“Sure.” He tightened his arms around her.

For a moment she clung to him, wanting to stay this close as long as possible. But eventually it dawned on her that they were in a public place. “The lounge is still open. We can talk in there.”

“I could use a drink.”

They sat at a small table overlooking the black-and-silver surface of the moonlit lake. The lounge was nearly empty. The bartender brought two glasses of brandy. Zoe
let Ethan have one sip before she started in with her questions.

“Al Drummer?” she said. “He was the killer?”

“He had a lot at stake,” Ethan said slowly. “For the past few years, he had been quietly skimming some of the profits off the top of Harper's business enterprise. Harper wasn't a good enough businessman to detect the embezzlement and of course he never called for an audit because he didn't want anyone finding out about his own scam.”

“Drummer had the perfect setup. An embezzlement operation that was not likely to ever be detected by his boss.”

“It was damn near perfect until Fenella Leeds came to work for Harper. Evidently she started sleeping with the boss just to get a handle on possible angles. She figured out the game he was playing with certain clients real quick.”

“Arcadia and I were pretty sure that she was aware of what was going on.”

“She realized the potential for embezzlement, dropped Harper, and seduced Al Drummer.”

“Only to find out that Drummer already had a nice little skim operation up and running.” Zoe nodded. “Arcadia and I used to watch the pair of them sneak down to the old boathouse. We always wondered what Fenella saw in Drummer.”

“They made a deal. She offered extensive inside knowledge of Harper's activities and pointed out ways of upping the take from the embezzlement. They became business partners. At least, it was all business on Fenella's side. Drummer, however, fell in love.”

“But it all started to come apart when Leon Grady located me and decided to start up his own little blackmail business, is that it?”

“Yes. Fenella may not have had a degree in psychology, but she was obviously quite shrewd when it came to judging people. She guessed almost immediately that Grady was up to something when he told Harper that he was going to try to find you in L.A. She knew he was chronically
short of cash and that he would probably use the corporate card as much as possible.”

“So she went straight to Drummer and told him to keep tabs on Grady?” Zoe asked.

“Yeah. According to Drummer, she was sure that Grady had become a loose cannon and that he threatened the highly profitable operation she and Drummer had going. She decided that he had to be stopped as soon as possible. Drummer tracked him as far as Los Angeles, but lost him there. Then Fenella provided him with Grady's personal credit card information.”

“How did she get it? Off Grady's computer?”

“Yes, together with your address.”

Zoe shuddered. “So she and Drummer were able to determine that Grady's real destination was Whispering Springs.”

“Yes, but Grady was living on cash at that point, which meant that they couldn't use his credit cards to pin down a location in Whispering Springs. So Drummer did the logical thing. He called up the largest security and investigation firm in Whispering Springs and used Harper's name and credit card to hire Radnor to do a quick search.”

“And Radnor found him.”

“Yes. But Fenella also realized that it was just as important to get you back. She had no way of knowing what you might do and she considered you a potential threat to the embezzlement scam.”

“And besides, I was a high-profit patient,” Zoe said bitterly.

“Very true. So she went to Harper and told him that she knew where you were. But she did not mention that she had also located Grady. Harper sent Ron and Ernie to pick you up. Fenella and Drummer made their own private plans to take care of Grady.”

“Which one of them went to Whispering Springs to kill him?” Zoe asked. “Fenella or Drummer?”

“Drummer,” Ethan said. “I get the impression that Fenella was opposed to the notion of taking personal risks,
if she could avoid it. Also no one took much notice of Al Drummer. He could call in sick for a day or two and not raise any eyebrows.”

“She convinced Drummer to do the dirty work, is that it?”

“There was a certain logic to the decision.” Ethan took a swallow of brandy and lowered the glass. “Drummer had been a hunter all of his life. He knew how to handle a gun.”

“I see. So Ron, Ernie, and Drummer were all in Whispering Springs on the same day, but the hulks didn't know about Drummer.”

“No. And neither did Harper. Later, with Grady out of the way, Drummer and Fenella hunkered down here, hoping the whole thing would blow over.”

Zoe felt a rush of fierce satisfaction. “But things didn't blow over because we got married, Ron and Ernie got arrested, and you insisted upon investigating Grady's death.”

“The minute she saw us barge through the door today, Fenella must have known her problems were just beginning. She routinely listened in on the conversations that took place in Harper's office. She heard us tell Harper that we were looking into Grady's murder and that we figured the killer was someone who had access to his credit card information.”

“She realized we were going to pull it all apart, didn't she?”

“Probably.” Ethan turned his glass between his hands. “She had to know that eventually we would find out that Al Drummer was in Whispering Springs the night of Grady's death. And she heard us tell Harper that we were going to make sure that the scandal got into the media. So, after we left, she went home and started packing.”

“And Drummer followed her?”

“Not immediately. He did not know what was going on at that point. According to him, Harper came to see him after we left and demanded to know if someone had used his corporate credit card to hire an investigation firm in Whispering Springs. Drummer got the rest of the story about
our visit to the Manor from office gossip. By the time he figured out that there was a huge problem, Fenella had left for the day. He went by her house to see her.”

“That would have been, what? Five-thirty or six?”

“Right,” Ethan said. “They quarreled. She told him she was ending their relationship. Drummer left. He went home, had a few drinks, and worked himself into a fury. Called her on the phone. She did not pick up. That really maddened him. He got a gun and went back to her house. Confronted her and shot her.”

“Why did he hang around? What was he doing upstairs when you arrived?”

“Before he shot her, she taunted him with the fact that she had recorded a couple of their conversations, including one in which he told her that he had killed Grady. She told him that if he gave her any trouble she would turn it over to the cops.”

“He was searching for the recording when you arrived?”

“Yeah.” Ethan looked out at the black lake. “He had just found it upstairs in a suitcase that Fenella had not finished packing when he realized that I was in the house.”

She closed her eyes against the knowledge of how close Ethan had come to getting killed. “My God.”

Ethan said nothing. When she opened her eyes, she saw that he was still watching the dark waters of the lake. She could feel him moving deeper into that place inside himself where he could be alone and still.

“Ethan?”

“Mmm?” He took another sip of brandy, but he did not take his attention off the lake.

She reached across the table and put her hand on his arm. “Ethan, listen to me. I know what you're thinking, but you're wrong. You could not have saved Fenella. You are not responsible for her death, do you hear me?”

He did not say anything for a while.

“If I had gone there first, instead of hitting Venetia McAlistair's cottage . . .”

“No.” She put both hands on his arm and tightened her
fingers to get his attention. “You can't second-guess yourself like this. You were right to check McAlistair's place first. It was the logical thing to do. Yes, Fenella is dead, but don't forget that she conspired in the murder of another person. Grady is dead because of her.”

“I know.”

She did not like the sound of that. He was agreeing with her, but she could feel him sinking deeper into the dark place.

She rose, went around the table, and hauled on his arm. He did not seem to notice.

“Ethan. Get up.” It was like trying to levitate a large chunk of granite.

He frowned. “What?”

“Let's go.”

“Where?”

“Upstairs.”

He shrugged, finished his brandy, and got to his feet.

She took him by the hand and led him out of the lounge and up the stairs to their room on the second floor. Pausing, she took out her key, opened the door, and drew him into the cozy interior.

She closed the door, turned, and went into his arms.

“Kiss me,” she ordered softly.

He did the narrow-eyed thing and finally started to focus on her. She could feel him resurfacing.

She raised her mouth, twined her arms around his neck, and kissed him with everything that was in her.

He came back from wherever he had gone with a sudden rush of heat.

“Zoe.”

He tumbled her down onto the bed.

 

A long time
later, he awoke and saw that the pattern of moonlight streaming through the window had shifted. It now slanted across the bed, silhouetting the graceful curve of Zoe's hip as she lay curled on her side.

He felt warm again. That came as a surprise. Earlier he had felt himself sinking into the familiar ice zone. It was a place he had visited off and on over the course of his life, but he had not discovered the true depths of the zone until after Drew's death.

Tonight, when he had sat with Zoe looking out over the lake, thinking of how he should have gone to Fenella Leeds's house first, he had figured he would be in the ice zone for a fairly long period. He had wondered if Zoe would leave while he was there. He wouldn't have blamed her. Others had made it clear that he was not great company when he was off in that other place.

But he hadn't had a chance to go deep tonight. Zoe had dragged him back. He knew himself well enough to know that the bad time had passed. He would be okay until the next trigger incident, whatever that might prove to be.

But meanwhile, he had Zoe.

He put his arm around her waist and pulled her close against him.

He slept.