Shadowed Paradise (42 page)

Seven minutes. Jody and Jamie were inside for
seven whole minutes. They must have let the kid have the third
floor tower. The first floor bedrooms would have been faster than
that. When they disappeared into the house the second time, he
turned the key in the ignition and eased the Beamer back onto the
road. In less than a minute he was parked behind an oleander hedge,
close to Palm Court, but not visible from the house.

“
How come you’ve got all this stuff,
Jamie?” Jody complained as they climbed the last set of steps to
the third floor. “I don’t have half this much, and I’m twice your
age.”

“
I—uh—kinda had a lot of stuff from
before,” he muttered, and doggedly resumed his climb, hauling a
laundry bag stuffed with games, puzzles and a few treasured
comics.

With a sigh of relief, Jody dumped onto the
wooden floor the load of books that had increased in weight with
every stair tread. “Whew!” she breathed. Standing hands on hips,
she surveyed the room. On the first trip she’d been carrying so
much that she failed to look around.

The room was a perfect square, paneled on
three sides with banks of windows about three feet off the floor,
each offering a view of the bay or the inlet where Brad kept his
boat. “Oh, wow!” Jody breathed. In one corner of the room a narrow
spiral staircase rose up toward the ceiling. “Is there a sun deck?”
she asked.

“
Yeah.”

“
Can I see?”

“’
Course. The bolt kinda sticks, tho’.
Brad says that’s good cuz he doesn’t want me going out there alone
until I’m ten. But I’m almost nine, so that’s only a year.” By the
time he finished speaking, Jody was out on the roof, Jamie at her
heels.

“
It’s a good thing the stair railing
keeps on going,” Jody said, “or I’d have had to shinny out the trap
door on my tummy.”

“
Yeah, it’s sorta too easy,” Jamie
agreed. “It’d be more fun if we had to crawl out.”

The seabreeze was strong four stories
up. Jody stood close to the stucco parapet, shaded her eyes against
the westering sun, and soaked up the view. If she didn’t count
Space Mountain at DisneyWorld, the sun deck at Palm Court was
literally the highest she’d ever been off the ground.
Wow!

The bay and the inlet were myriad shades of
blue and green; the neighboring houses and Brad’s boat, strangely
diminished. A mile or so to the west the Gulf of Mexico was clearly
visible, glowing under the kiss of the afternoon sun.

A giant banyan obscured the view to the east,
but to the west, directly below and four stories down, the Palm
Court pool gleamed inside its frame of white cement, rocky
waterfall, and scattered lawn furniture.

“
Pretty great, huh?”

“
You are one lucky kid,” Jody declared
with feeling. “I’m sure glad we’re friends. Maybe you’ll invite me
back sometime.” She grinned at his swift agreement, took a last
deep breath of salt air. “Come on, Jamie. We don’t want your mom to
come home and find the pickup still full of stuff. Jody headed
toward the stairs. “Don’t forget to shoot the bolt,” she called,
pausing on the bottom step until she heard the snick of the heavy
slide bolt above her. “Do you think your mom’s got some soda?” she
asked. “Those books of yours weighed a ton.”

“
She doesn’t like soda much,” Jamie
confided, “but she always keeps some in the fridge for me. I think
Brad likes it too,” he added confidingly.

“
Okay, Tiger, let’s find the fridge.”
Jody ruffled Jamie’s hair. Their spirits renewed by thoughts of
what might be in the refrigerator, they raced each other down the
two flights of stairs to the kitchen.

“
Well, hello there. Nice to see you
again.”

Two sets of sneakers skidded to a halt on the
white ceramic tile at the sight of the man standing at the far end
of the kitchen, his body outlined by the brilliance of the
afternoon sun shining through the bay windows. Jody sucked in a
shocked breath, let it out in relief as she recognized the
face.

“
You were running Claire’s wedding,”
she said, returning his friendly greeting. “Mr. Lovell, isn’t
it?”

“
How nice of you to remember me, my
dear.” In contrast, he found Jamie’s scowling face almost amusing.
Perceptive little devil. “You remember me too, don’t you, Jamie?”
he asked smoothly. “I was the one directing traffic just before
your mother walked down the aisle.”

“
Yeah, I remember.” Jamie didn’t smile.
Whatever was happening here in Brad’s kitchen, he recognized the
feel of it. The wrongness of it. The bad. Something that got right
inside of him and made him see things he never wanted to see
again.

He ought to tell Jody to run, but he
couldn’t say why. This was the man who organized his mom’s wedding.
Jody would think he was a silly baby if he told her to run. But
that’s what he ought to do, he knew it. He could almost hear Brad’s
voice:
Run like hell, kid. Get out of
there.

“
I brought your stuffed animals in,”
the man said, nodding toward a large black trash bag on the kitchen
table. “Look at this dinosaur,” he said, hauling out a bright blue
velvet Tyrannosaurus Rex at least three feet long. “I don’t think
he liked being shut up in that bag, Jamie. Maybe you should take
him upstairs yourself.” Jordan Lovell’s handsome face flashed
another smile. Expectantly, he held the dinosaur out to
Jamie.

Jamie took a step backwards.

“
Jamie!” Jody’s sharp tone reminded him
of his manners. Jamie stood still, eyeing the dinosaur as if the
man-eater might come alive at any moment.

“
Afraid he might eat you?” the man
taunted. Oh so nicely. In that coy, superior manner certain adults
use on children. His father’s friends had talked to him like that,
Jamie recalled. Even when he was real little, he’d hated
it.

Jamie grabbed Jody’s hand and started for the
door, but Jody had been too well brought up to be rude to Brad’s
and Claire’s unexpected guest. “Were you looking for Claire, Mr.
Lovell?” she inquired brightly, pulling Jamie to a sharp halt. “We
don’t expect her for another hour or more. Jamie and I are just
getting a head start on moving his things.”

“
I wanted to ask Claire to work on the
library fundraiser,” he said with easy charm. “I might as well help
out while I wait.” He spoke to Jody, but his eyes never left Jamie.
“Come get the dinosaur, Jamie. Then I won’t have so much to carry
up the stairs. I’m getting along in years, you know.”

“
Go on,” Jody hissed, giving the boy a
tiny push.

Jamie inched forward, his sneakers dragging
across the floor. Jordan Lovell held the bright blue creature at
arms length until Jamie’s small hand shot out to take it by the
longed curved tail. The older man grinned, eyes dancing, and raised
the dinosaur over Jamie’s head. If it had been Brad, Jamie would
have laughed and leaped for the dino. As it was, his chin firmed.
Feet planted apart, fists clenched at his sides, he glared at the
intruder in his mother’s kitchen.

The dinosaur flew up to the ceiling. The man
caught it, began tossing it from one hand to the other, gradually
moving forward until the dinosaur arced within inches of the boy’s
nose.

Jamie grabbed for it. In a flurry of movement
the dinosaur sailed across the room and Jamie was held tight
against Jordan Lovell’s body, an eight-inch hunting blade resting
against his throat.

Silence.

At six Jamie had squirmed and struggled,
kicked and bit. His captor had knocked him cold with one swift
blow. His head ached for days. So, at eight, almost nine, he was
still as a statue, his father’s amber eyes glued to Jody’s shocked
face.

“
It’s
you
,” Jody whispered, “isn’t it?” Brad had said
there was no danger, the killer wasn’t interested in children. But
she wasn’t a child any more, was she? She was sixteen. And oh, God,
dear God, she hadn’t even begun to live. But Jamie? Surely the man
wouldn’t . . . he couldn’t? . . .

“
Oh, yes, dear girl,” Jordan Lovell
agreed. “And you’re going to be my crowning achievement, my final
link with destiny. I’d planned on Claire, but she’s such a cold New
England bitch. Too elusive. I may have time to slit her throat, but
I doubt I’ll bother with anything else.” He gave Jody a long,
leisurely appraisal, smiled in satisfaction. Jeans and T-shirt
weren’t quite his style, but she was a tasty little
morsel.

“
Upstairs,” he commanded.

“
No.” Jody couldn’t believe she’d said
it, baldly, just like that. She must be as crazy as he
was.

The knife moved a fraction of an inch. Jamie
gasped. A trickle of red began a slow journey down his throat.

“
Brad could be home any time now,” Jody
lied, her voice wobbly but clear. “If you want to live, you’d
better get going.”

“
I don’t much care for children,”
Jordan returned coldly, significantly. “Upstairs now, or I’ll kill
him right here. Make my life a lot easier.” Tightening his grip on
Jamie, Jordan removed the knife from the boy’s throat long enough
to wave it in front of Jody, giving her a good look at the long
lethal blade. “Upstairs or he dies. Right now. Brad’s bedroom,” he
ordered as Jody turned slowly and headed for the back
stairs.

He’d looked around the day of the reception,
and the master suite definitely met with his approval. He liked
quality, luxury. Beauty in all its forms. “Keep moving,” he
snapped, as Jody dawdled on the back stairs. He could almost hear
the wheels turning in her dear little head. She was young and fast
. . . and felt responsible for the child. Oh, yes, as long as he
had the boy, he didn’t have to worry. She was his.

When Jamie’s feet didn’t move from where they
were planted on the kitchen floor, Jordan simply picked him up and
carried him across the tile, into the short hallway and up the back
stairs. The kid was a dead weight—you’d think he’d been coached on
what to do when being held hostage. By the time he walked through
the bedroom door, Jordan was breathing hard. The girl stood poised
near the bathroom door. Undoubtedly, remembering where Claire had
taken refuge at Amber Run. But she wouldn’t do it. The little
Florida cracker was the noble type. She’d never abandon the
boy.

He had her. Oh, yes, he had her right where
he wanted her.

“
Undress,” he ordered. His smile was
back.

“
No.” She’d done it again, Jody
thought. She was crazier than he was. The man was standing in front
of her, elegant, handsome, smiling at the thought of raping her,
killing her . . . He was holding a knife to Jamie’s throat . . .
and she was talking back to him.

“
Do it.” Jordan Lovell’s smile faded.
His eyes were implacable, the blue-gray turned to flint.

“
I can’t,” Jody breathed, a glimmer of
reason beginning to form. “Not in front of the boy. I just can’t.
Maybe if you put him in the bathroom . . .”

“
You really do think I’m crazy, don’t
you?” Jordan inquired with a touch of the sophisticated superiority
for which he was so well-known. “Bathrooms only lock from the
inside.” The suggestion did, however, have its appeal. The boy was
definitely hampering his style, and he was beginning to suspect the
girl would rather take her chances with the knife than undress in
front of the child. Funny girl, but what the hell . . . his arm was
almost numb from keeping the kid standing upright.

Jordan surveyed the room, spotted an
old-fashioned long metal key sticking out of the closet door.
Keeping his eyes pinned on the girl, he dragged Jamie across the
room. With his back against the wall and Jamie squeezed tightly
against his chest, he moved the hand holding the knife enough to
jiggle open the closet door. “Little bastard,” he ground out,
throwing the boy as far into the large walk-in closet as his
overtaxed arms would allow. Good riddance. The kid had
known
. There in the kitchen, the
little fucker had known. Jordan Lovell slammed the door and turned
the key.

With the click of the lock, Jordan’s
fever came back in waves. Goddamn kid nearly ruined it all. Took
his mind off what was important.
Set a
goal, then go for it
, that’s what Mom always said. And
now he had his goals—all of them—laid out like ducks in a row. The
first one was so sweet and rounded. Innocent. Virginal? Yeah, that
too. Had he ever had an untouched woman? He didn’t think so. Icing
. . . icing on that sweet little stack of hotcakes. Hot buns. Hot
all over.

When Mom was alive, he hadn’t dared to have
thoughts like this. But now . . . no more brakes. If he wanted to
fuck a sweet young thing . . . if he wanted to kill her . . . there
was no one to stop him.

Not yet.

Jody. There she stood on the far side
of the bed, white-faced but glaring. Stubborn little cracker wanted
to run, but if she did, the kid would die. Jordan wiped the
anticipatory smile from his face, bared his teeth and brandished
the knife. See if
that
froze
her sneakers to the floor, the little bitch. He edged away from the
wall, moved to the end of the bed where he had an unobstructed view
of the girl from the dark brown sweep of her hair to the lamentably
scuffed toes of her sneakers. She was trying not to show her fear,
but the T-shirt heaved as her chest moved to the rhythm of fast,
short breaths. He could hear the rasp in her throat. The soulfully
satisfying sound of terror.