The Waterfall (20 page)

“You want to lay odds she's the one?”

“Not me. I've always liked Barbara, and I've always thought she liked me.”

“Maybe it doesn't have anything to do with you.”

“A dead bat in my bed?”

Sebastian nodded, rising. “You're right. That has everything to do with you.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, and he could see she was nervous, rattled at the idea—however far-fetched—that her father-in-law's longtime personal assistant could wish her ill.

“I'm jumping ahead of the facts,” he said. “Barbara Allen isn't even a suspect. She could have an airtight alibi, for all we know—or information that could point us in the right direction.”

“Well, watch your back. I don't want to have to scrape you off the rocks again.”

“I
want out,” Barbara said. “I want out
now.
”

Darren Mowery smirked at her from his chair in front of the cold stone fireplace. He'd shown up ten minutes ago, without warning. “Barbie, Barbie.”

“Don't call me that. I'm Barbara, or Ms. Allen, or Miss Allen. I'm not ‘Barbie.'”

She was on her feet, pacing, trying to look calmer than she felt. He'd swooped in so silently, so unexpectedly, catching her coming from the shower. Again, she'd detected no physical interest in her. He was single-minded, totally focused on his mission: the blackmail of a United States senator. Of her boss. She shuddered, horrified.

“Okay,
Barbara.
” He drew it out, sarcastic, laughing at her without humor. He wore tan chinos and a white polo shirt, nothing that made him stand out. “You won't call the police.”

“I will. If you don't leave me alone, I'll call the Capitol Police. I never should have gone along with you. I wasn't thinking.” She'd been caught up in wanting to lash out at Jack,
force
him to acknowledge his love for her. But this was an unholy alliance. There were other ways to get to Jack.

Darren scratched the side of his mouth, looking unworried. “I warned you, if you'll recall. No cold feet, no surprises.”

“That's not my problem.”

“Oh, it is. You see, Barbie, if you go to the police, they get my pictures of you stalking Lucy Swift.”

At first she didn't understand what he meant. Pictures of her stalking Lucy? What was he talking about? She wasn't a stalker. Then she digested his words. Understood. She didn't move, didn't breathe. She could feel him watching her with satisfaction.

“You don't understand—” Her voice cracked. “You couldn't possibly understand.”

“Oh, no, I understand. It's simple. You hate her guts, and you took it upon yourself to scare the shit out of her. I tell the Capitol Police how I've been on your case for the past month. I tell them everything, start to finish.”

“Jack will know the truth. He knows you're a blackmailer.”

“And he'll know you're a stalker, a nutcase lurking in the bushes to get at his daughter-in-law. It'll all make sense to him. He won't say a word about me. You know he won't, Barbie. He's too scared. He doesn't care what I do so long as I don't squeal about Colin and his little shenanigans.” Mowery smiled smugly. “I'll be the hero.”

Barbara tried to stand up straight. “You followed me? You've known all this time—”

“Barbie.” He was chastising, indulgent, arrogant. “You forget what I did for a living for the better part of thirty years.”

“Oh, God,” she whispered.

Darren crossed one leg over the other, as if to emphasize that he was relaxed, in control. “If I talk, you lose everything. Your job, your reputation, any hope you have of snaring your boss. At best, you get sent to the loony bin for a little head-shrinking. If the jury's like me and doesn't buy a nutcase plea, you're up the river for a good, long stay.”

Barbara ignored the pain that swept through her. “There's nothing wrong with my mind.”

“So you go for a plea bargain. Barbara Allen, the stalker.” He yawned. “I thought the bullet on the car seat was goddamn brilliant, myself. Made Lucy's skin crawl, I bet.”

Barbara sniffed, regarding him as if he were an insect on her carpet. “I don't have to explain myself to you. I was merely trying to shock her into doing right by Jack's grandchildren.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I'm hardly the first woman to despise a phony like Lucy.”

“Yeah, right. You hate Lucy because she's everything you're not.”

“That's not true.”

He ignored her. “She married a Swift, she has Swift children, she has a fun, challenging career, she has a house. You hate her,
Barbara,
because she has a life and you don't.”

“I do have a life! It's Lucy who has no life.”

“When our buddy Jack told you to take a hike, you let your obsession with her get away from you.” Darren smiled, supercilious, almost enjoying himself. “It relieves the pressure, doesn't it? Upsetting Lucy, throwing her off her stride. Makes you feel better, at least for a little while.”

Barbara held up her chin, summoning every last shred of pride she had. “I gave up everything for Jack. I've worked night and day for him for twenty years. I've put his interests ahead of my own. Lucy's not half the woman I am.”

“But she signs her checks ‘Swift,' and you don't.”

“Bastard.”

“See? I know these things, Barbie. I'm an expert.”

She tried to swallow, but her throat was too constricted. He could never understand. No one could. “I just want out.” God, she sounded pathetic.

Darren dropped both feet to the floor and leaned forward. “Get this straight, Barbie.” He enunciated each word precisely, as if he were talking to a dunce. “I don't care about your dirty little secret. You can turn Lucy Swift into a babbling lunatic for all I care. You are in this for the long haul. Understood?”

“I hope Sebastian Redwing finds you and kills you.”

Mowery grinned. “That'd be kind of fun, wouldn't it? He tried to kill me once. I'd like to see him try again.”

“Darren,” she said, sinking onto the floor in front of him, knowing she looked pitiful—the obsessed spinster in love with the boss. God! But somehow, some way, she had to get through to him. “Listen to me, I don't care about my share of the money—I don't care about any of it. You can do whatever you want to do. I won't say a word. I just want to stop.”

“Barbie.”

“Please go on without me.
Please.
”

“I don't think so.”

So cocky, so arrogant. She got to her feet, hoping she wouldn't crack, throw up, cry. Her stomach hurt. She pushed back her hair with both hands and went to the windows that looked out on the woods, the brook. Lucy should have stayed in Washington.
None
of this would have happened if she'd stayed.

“I've gotten all the satisfaction I want from hurting Lucy,” she said, and added in a small voice, “And I can wait for Jack.”

“Yeah, so?”

She turned back to him. “I'm done. I won't say a word to anyone about what you're doing. Just go on about your business and leave me out of it.”

“I can't do that.”

“You mean you won't.”

“Either way.”

She started to shiver. He would see it as a sign of weakness. He had used her, manipulated her. Now there was no way out. It was Lucy's fault. All of it, Lucy's fault. Barbara could feel a fresh wave of rage building. She was trapped, and it was Lucy's fault.

“All right,” she said. “What do you want me to do?”

“Right now, you're doing fine just being up here.” Mowery walked over to her, stared out the windows at the picturesque scenery. “Vermont gives me the fucking creeps. I hate the woods. You okay, Barbie?”

“Yes. Certainly.” No more being mealymouthed. It hadn't gotten her anywhere with him. She would hold her head high. “I have no apologies for what I did to Lucy. She deserved it.”

He shrugged. “Sure.”

“You've known from the beginning?”

“Why do you think we're in this gig together?”

“You had to have something on me so you knew you could manipulate me when the time came.”

“So I could use your fucked-up little mind to my advantage.” He winked at her. “So far, so good. You forget, Barbie. I'm better at this than you are.”

“That was my mistake.”

“There's only one man who's ever outsmarted me. He'll be knocking on your door before too long.”

“Sebastian Redwing,” she said.

Darren winked at her, patted her on the butt and left.

Fifteen minutes later, as he'd predicted, Redwing walked up onto the deck where Barbara was still contemplating her options. She had few.

Darren knew. Darren would have his way. So, what did she want?
Jack.
At the very least, satisfaction. Lucy suffering. Lucy miserable.

Sebastian introduced himself. He was, Barbara thought, breathtakingly sexy. He wore jeans and a faded polo shirt, but it would be impossible for him to blend into a crowd, even if he wanted to. She was aware of her own prim attire, simple slacks and a blouse, casual yet still professional.

“I'm staying at the house with Lucy and the kids,” he said. “It belonged to my grandmother. I sold it to them after Colin died.”

“Yes, I know.”

His eyes were an unusual mix of grays, she saw. He seemed to take in more of her than she'd have liked—an unsettling quality. But even if he knew she had secrets, he would never guess what they were. That was what was so unnerving about Mowery: he knew, only because he was incapable of trust.

“Do you mind if I talk to you a minute?” Sebastian asked.

“No, of course not.” She recovered, reminded herself she wasn't a woman who played up her physical attractions to manipulate men; that was for weaker, less intelligent and capable women. She smiled, poised, professional. “I suppose Madison told you I was in Vermont renting a house for her grandfather?”

“She didn't plan to tell anyone anything. She got caught sneaking up here this morning and came clean.”

Barbara nodded. “I never meant for her to lie for me. I suppose asking her not to say anything was bad enough. A sin of omission rather than commission. I hope Lucy isn't too annoyed with me.”

“Madison's fifteen. She knows the score.”

In other words, Lucy was punishing her daughter. Acid rose in Barbara's throat. The woman was disgusting. “How long do you plan to stay in Vermont?” she asked, keeping her tone conversational.

“I don't have any firm plans. Lucy stopped in when she was in Wyoming, and I decided to come on out, see my old haunts.”

“Had Colin mentioned anything about buying your grandmother's house and moving to Vermont one day?”

Sebastian shook his head. “Not Colin. He loved Washington.”

“Madison's like that,” Barbara said, smiling to take the edge off her words.

“That's what I understand. I didn't get to see a lot of Colin in the four or five years before he died.”

“It's easy to take the young for granted.”

Barbara couldn't help the subtle criticism in her tone, but Sebastian didn't react. She was thinking of herself and Jack, too, and how he'd taken her for granted for years…and years. She was always there, always capable, always willing to do whatever he asked, without complaint. Unlike too many of his senior staffers, he could rely on her without worrying about her stabbing him in the back.

And what had her loyalty gotten her? Nothing.

Jack
had
to love her.

“When do you go back to Washington?” Sebastian asked.

“In a day or two. I'm open. I'll have to help Jack tie up a few loose ends before he comes up for August.”

“I'm surprised he can manage without you right now. Isn't this a busy time of year in Washington?”

“Usually, yes.”

He didn't comment, and she wondered if he could see through her. Did he know? Did he suspect? Lucy, the sniveling coward, would have told him about the incidents by now. That was why he was here, of course. Not to see his grandmother's house, but to protect her. It was sickening.

Barbara didn't need a man to protect her. Maybe that was why Jack was afraid to admit his love for her—he knew she didn't need him for protection, an income, all the things an ordinary woman wanted in a man. She was different. Stronger.

Sebastian smiled, and it was spine-melting. It would be so easy for someone as weak as Lucy to turn her problems, her individuality, over to a man like Sebastian Redwing. Barbara was more self-reliant. Tougher. “Well,” he said, “I don't pretend to know the workings of Washington. Lucy asked me to invite you to dinner tonight.”

“How sweet. Please thank her for me, but I have other plans.” Of course, Lucy would think Barbara was up here longing for her company, incapable of managing on her own. “And I hope she won't be too hard on Madison. I put her in a difficult position.”

“No problem.”

He started down the steps, but stopped halfway and glanced back up at her. His expression was impossible for her to read, and she was very, very good at reading people. “A former colleague of mine might be in the area. Darren Mowery. Know him?”

So this was the reason for his visit. Not Madison, not Lucy. “I've heard of him.”

“He went bad last year. It's a long story. I hope I'm wrong and he's nowhere near here. If he tries to contact you, find me or call the police.” His gaze leveled on her, probing, uncomfortable. “He's dangerous. I can't emphasize that enough.”