The Waterfall (24 page)

A quilt? Dear God, Barbara thought. Madison would never be ready for the real world if she stayed here sewing quilts, snapping beans, wandering off in the woods by herself.
Someone
had to bring these people to their senses.

Barbara removed the Smith & Wesson from her waistband. She didn't know why. A precaution, a necessity. She was following her instincts.

Plato saw her. “Madison, get down!”

The girl leaped at him, pulling on his arm as he reached for his gun. “No, no, it's Barbara! She's a friend!”

Plato backhanded the girl into the dirt. “Stay put.”

She scrambled to her feet, wild, out of control, then charged him. “You're a maniac! You're all maniacs!”

Barbara fired before Plato could get to his weapon. With the silencer, the shot hardly made a sound. Madison screamed, her interference and Plato's quick reactions throwing off Barbara's aim so that she only caught his upper right arm. She fired again, grazing the side of his head.

The girl went nuts, shrieking when Plato, semi-conscious, collapsed onto the dirt driveway. Blood streamed down his face.

Barbara marched over to Madison and snatched her by the elbow. “Get up. Stop your screaming.”

The girl sobbed, her face streaked with tears. “You killed Plato!”

“I
will
kill him if you don't shut up and come with me. Right now.” Barbara inhaled. Her head ached, but now she had a clear purpose. She knew what she needed to do. “Where's your brother?”

“J.T.! Run! Run get Mom and Sebastian!”

Barbara slapped the girl across the face, half with her hand, half with the butt of her gun. Madison gulped back a scream. Barbara could see the fierce anger behind her terror. So like Colin, but corrupted by her mother.

Plato lay motionless on the driveway, blood from his wounds spilling into the dirt.

How like Lucy to abandon her children to a stranger.

There was no advantage to killing him. Barbara was more interested in the missing boy. He could be a problem.

Madison's teeth were chattering. “Don't—don't kill Plato.
Please.
I couldn't live with myself. It's my fault. I
trusted
you!”

“Well,” Barbara said, “let's not give Plato a clear shot so he can kill me, shall we?” She placed her father's Smith & Wesson at the girl's head. “Your mother doesn't care about you, Madison. I'll prove it to you. She rescued Sebastian Redwing from Joshua Falls. Do you think she'll rescue you?”

Madison squared her jaw. “I'll rescue myself.”

“There, you see? You're used to being on your own, even at fifteen. Come on, Madison. That's it. One step at a time.”

 

Jack held up his head, trying to retain his dignity. “You will never get away with kidnapping a United States senator.”

Darren Mowery grinned at him. “So?”

He was driving, and he was armed with a semi-automatic. They were within minutes of Lucy's house. Jack still didn't know exactly what had happened. A Senate colleague and personal friend had loaned him his private plane, which Jack, an experienced pilot, would fly to Vermont, where he planned to tell Lucy what had been going on and discuss their options.

Instead, Mowery intercepted him at the airport, and blackmail quickly turned to kidnapping. He'd piloted the plane. He had a car waiting in Vermont.

His threat to keep Jack in line was simple. He repeated it now, as he had every ten minutes since the start of this ordeal. “I'm the expert, Jack. You're the pompous senator. If you try anything, it'll just piss me off. I'll kill you. Then I'll kill Lucy. Then I'll kill your grandchildren.”

“What do you want?” Jack croaked.

“You haven't figured that out yet, have you, Jack?”

“If it's money—”

“If it was money, I'd have fucked with a senator with a bigger trust fund than you have. Jesus, Jack. You're not worth much by Washington standards, you know?”

“I have devoted my life to public service.”

“Yeah, and it pays shit.”

“Then what is it? Power? My vote? Is someone else paying you? If I knew, maybe we could work something out.”

“Nope. I had my chance at the brass ring. It was a once-in-a-lifetime deal. I knew it when I started down that road.” He drove smoothly, steadily; nothing seemed to bother him. “Redwing Associates had already cut into my business. Sebastian put the word out I was losing my edge.”

“That's not what I heard,” Jack said.

“Who the hell ever tells a senator the truth? That's why you have all those goddamn hearings. You have to dig through everybody's bullshit to get at something.” He glanced over at Jack. “Doesn't that get to you after a while?”

“No. No, it doesn't.”

“Well, aren't you fucking holier-than-thou. So, here I was, going broke, that son of a bitch I trained pulling in millions—I mean, we are talking
millions.
He lives like a goddamn monk, but he's worth—well, shit, he didn't have to borrow a plane to get here.”

Jack thought Mowery was exaggerating, but he chose not to say so. The man seemed to relish how put-upon he was. “It's an old story, isn't it? The student bests the master.”

“The bastard didn't understand. I got wind of a kidnapping and ransom scheme and dealt myself in, but I always planned to make sure the real bad guys didn't get away.”

“Weren't you one of the ‘real bad guys'?”

“No, asshole, I was going to see to it the family got back safe.”

“What about the ransom money?”

“That was my only sin—wanting to take the money. I figured I'd deserve it for saving the family.”

“But if you put them in danger in the first place—”

They'd come to Lucy's road. Darren made the turn. “You know, Jack, why don't you shut the hell up?”

“It's Sebastian you want?”

“Well, Jack, you did it. You figured it out. If I ever move to Rhode Island, you get my vote. Now, shut up.”

L
ucy touched Sebastian's arm, but he'd already stopped on the steep, narrow path. A few yards above them, through a screen of trees, was the dirt road. “I thought I heard something.”

“I did, too.”

A car sounded on the road. Sebastian shot up the path and crouched down as it passed above him. It wasn't Barbara's sturdy rental, and it wasn't Plato's shiny black car.

Lucy dropped low. “Did you see who it was?”

He eased back down to her and placed the cell phone in her hand. “It's Mowery. Lucy, he has Jack.” He curved her stiff fingers around the phone. “Call the local police. Tell them they've got a probable hostage situation with a U.S. senator. Have them get in touch with the Capitol Police.”

“Jack—was he okay—did he look—?”

“He was in the passenger seat. He looked fine.”

She nodded. “Should I tell Plato?”

“If he's still there. If not, get your butt over to the police station or a friend's house and stay put.” He smiled grimly, a glint of humor coming into his eyes. “Not that I'd tell you what to do.”

“Under the circumstances, feel free. What about you? If Mowery's bent on revenge, you'll just be playing into his hands. You don't even have a gun.”

But he'd already slipped into the woods, off the path. Lucy watched him make his way around a huge boulder and disappear. She quickly retraced her steps down the path, dialing the police as she went. She got patched through to Larry, the chief of police, and gave him the facts as succinctly as she could. “I'm on my way back to my house,” she said.

“Good. Stay there.”

“For God's sake, don't come up here with guns blazing. This guy will kill my father-in-law.”

“Jesus Christ,” Larry said. “All right, I'll meet you at your place. Where you live, it's going to be a while before we can get there.”

“I know. I'll be okay.”

She disconnected and picked up her pace, coming soon to the stone wall on the far edge of the field. Plato materialized out of nowhere and caught her around the middle. “Lucy.” Blood poured down the side of his head. He'd ripped off his suit coat, and blood had soaked through his white shirt; the fabric on his upper right arm was torn. He was sweating and ashen-faced, and he was heavily armed. “Lucy, she's got Madison, maybe J.T., too, by now.”

“Oh, no. Oh, God.” Lucy held onto him, pushed back the panic. “You mean Barbara? Where?”

“Waterfall. She shot the shit out of me. I'm going to pass out. Call the police.” He grimaced, catching his breath. “Where's Sebastian?”

“He took off.”

“Good.”

Lucy shook her head. “Mowery's got my father-in-law.”

Plato sank into the ferns growing up close to the stone wall. “Shit.”

“The police are on their way. Go meet them.”

“Your kids—”

“You're in no condition to help them, and you don't know the way. I'll go. I know a shortcut from here to the falls.”

“I screwed up,” Plato said. “I didn't realize Madison knew Barbara, liked her. I should have.”

“I didn't think to tell you. I'm sorry.”

“Luckily the bitch is a lousy shot.”

Lucy quickly checked his wounds. They were unpleasant, but she didn't believe they were life-threatening. She shoved the cell phone at him. “I just called the police. Call them again. Can you make it back to the house? You'll be okay?”

He pushed her toward the path. “Go. The woman's a nut. Be careful. Buy time for the police to get here.” He held up his gun—a black, sleek thing—with a shaking, blood-spattered hand. “Take this.”

“And do what with it?”

The barest ghost of a smile as he dropped the gun. “You're right. You'll just shoot your foot off. Now, go.”

 

Barbara's legs ached from the steep climb up to Joshua Falls. “You'll see your mother doesn't care about you. You'll see.”

Madison was still defiant. “My mother never held a gun on us.”

“She's done far worse. If she hadn't brainwashed you against me, I wouldn't have to hold a gun on you. It's her fault. And I'm just doing this for your own good. You have to see what she's done to you.”

This time, Madison kept her mouth shut. She was even worse now that they had J.T. with them. Barbara had caught him hiding in the back of the barn. She'd had to fire at him. He got the point. He hadn't said a word since. He was scared. Brainwashed. Barbara would make sure he and Madison both got appropriate therapy in Washington. She didn't want them to have lasting scars from what their mother had done to them.

Yes, she thought, she could see a future for herself. She would take care of Colin's children, Jack's grandchildren. She would see to their upbringing, their education. She would raise them the way Swifts should be raised.

Lucy's fault they were frightened and defiant now. All Lucy's fault.

She could hear the water rushing over the falls. The rain had started, a steady, cold drizzle. Madison and J.T. didn't seem to notice. Country bumpkins.

J.T. slipped on a wet rock and skinned his knee, but he scrambled back to his feet and didn't complain. Barbara was pleased. He was stoic, like his father and grandfather. “Good boy.”

“Just keep going, J.T.,” Madison whispered to him. “It'll be okay. I promise. I won't let her hurt you.”

Barbara resisted the impulse to strike the girl. “You sound like your mother. Don't fill the boy with negative ideas about me, poison him against me.”

“I don't need to poison him against you. You've poisoned him yourself!”

That mouth. Barbara gritted her teeth and called upon her heroic self-discipline. She remembered her purpose. They had to see the truth. Both these children did.

“All right.” They'd reached the top of the falls; the rain was steadier now. And colder, autumn-like. She preferred Washington heat to this dank misery. She nodded to the children. “Stop. Now, listen. Madison, I want you to take the rope.” She tossed the length of rope she'd removed from Lucy's supply room. “If you do anything stupid, I will shoot you or your brother—possibly both of you, if it's really stupid. Do you understand?”

The girl nodded, pale, the rain glistening on her coppery hair. Barbara liked its color. So pretty. They'd have to get it trimmed at a good salon.

She pointed to the rope. “Take it and tie one end around your waist. Your mother taught you knot tying, I assume? I hope so. You won't want to get this wrong.”

“Let J.T. go,” Madison said, shivering now as she tied the rope around her waist. “This is all my fault, he didn't do anything. If I hadn't tackled him, Plato would have shot you. J.T. didn't know anything—”

Barbara waved her gun. “Tie the rope.” J.T. stood on the rock ledge, trembling and sobbing. Oh, Lucy, Barbara thought, look what you've done to your little boy!

Madison secured the rope. She tested it, and even Barbara, who admittedly knew nothing about knots, could see it was tight. “Very good,” she said. “Thank you for cooperating. You'll see I'm a fair-minded, disciplined professional. Now, tie the rope around that tree right there.” She pointed with her gun at a thick, misshapen hemlock, its roots growing out over the abyss of the waterfall. “Be careful. Don't slip.”

“Why do you want—”

“Just do it.”

The girl nodded. The rain had soaked through her shirt and shorts and was making her shiver even more. She crouched down and tied the rope to the tree.

“I thought about getting a rock-climbing line with one of those harness things,” Barbara said, “but I think this will do. It's more dramatic. You'll see.” She leaned forward, over Madison's shoulder. “Don't dawdle.”

“You've made your point.” Madison looked up at her, her blue eyes and spray of freckles heart-stoppingly like Colin's, like Jack's. “My mother's awful. I hate her.”

Barbara smiled. “I know, love. I know. Now, lower yourself over the edge.”

“First let J.T. go.”

“Madison, you're not in charge. I am. I've been doing the bidding of the Swifts for twenty years. It's my turn.” She stood up straight, ignoring the rain pelting down on them, and leveled the gun at the girl. “Now lower yourself over the falls.”

Barbara stepped back while Madison dutifully stood up and eased herself to the edge of the hemlock's twisted, gnarled roots. She took a breath, so pale, and gave herself more length on the rope. She tugged at it, making sure the end on the tree held.

“Don't take forever,” Barbara said. “If you make me push you, it'll hurt more. The rope will cut into you. You'll smash into the rock.”

The girl nodded. “I know. I'm just a little scared. My stupid mother should be here.”

“Yes, yes, that's right.”

Madison edged her heels out over the abyss. Barbara could hear the water rushing, swirling beneath them. She wasn't quite sure how long the rope was, but she thought it wouldn't reach the water. Madison would dangle several feet above the deep, cold pool. She and Barbara would just have to take it from there.

What to do about J.T.?

“Madison,
don't,
” he cried. “Don't.”

Such a big baby, Barbara thought. They'd have to work on that. It was good for him to see his older sister be brave in the face of adversity.

“J.T., listen to me.”

Madison's voice was calm and intense, and Barbara expected she was rallying her brother to the cause. Instead, she swooped out from the edge of the roots, kicked herself off the tree and used her momentum to carry herself toward Barbara. She kicked wildly, knocking Barbara flat onto her behind. Her gun went flying.

“Run, J.T., run! Get Mom! Go, go, go.”

Barbara pushed the monster off her. The cold rain made her slippery. “I trusted you!”

“My brother's smarter and faster than you are, you
bitch.
”

Barbara recoiled, seeing this stupid girl for what she was. Poisoned. Too far gone. She caught the rope with both hands and pulled hard, shoving Madison back to the edge of the ledge. The girl kicked and fought and struggled, but Barbara was too strong, too furious for her to prevail.

She went down fast. Barbara could see her trying to get her balance to rappel, but she banged against the rock wall, hitting her arm and shoulder. She yelled out in pain.

“It serves you right,” Barbara called down to her.

She sank onto the wet ground. Her hands and wrists were rope-burned, stinging and bleeding as if she'd been in a violent tug-of-war. She was exhausted, but she remembered the boy. She had to rally, find him.

She reached backward, feeling for her gun, rain pouring into her eyes.

Lucy. Holding Barbara's gun. The rain pelted down on her. “You'd better pray my daughter isn't badly hurt.”

Barbara saw the fear in Lucy's eyes. It wasn't fear for Madison. It was a selfish fear—fear for herself and what she would lose. From the way she held the gun, it was obvious she didn't know how to use it. She peered over the falls.

“Mom,” Madison sobbed, “oh, Mom, thank God!”

Barbara sighed. She was right. The girl was lost. “Are you hurt?” Lucy called. “Can you find a handhold?”

“My arm. I think it's broken.”

Lucy glared at Barbara, her .38 steady. “Why? What did she ever do to you?”

“Not her,” Barbara said. “You.”

“Jesus,” a man's voice said behind them. She looked up, and Plato, bloodied and soaked, fell against a hemlock. “You're one sick puppy, you know that?”

Lucy was obviously relieved to see him. Of course, Barbara thought. A man to the rescue. Lucy nodded to the rope still tied around the tree. “Madison's hanging over the falls. I have to get her out. J.T.—did you see him?”

Plato shook his head. “Lucy, all hell's breaking loose down at your house. Cops're everywhere. We can get a rescue team up here to pull her out.”

“Call Rob. He's the best.” She peered down at her daughter, the rain easing to a drizzle. “Madison, how's the rope? Will it hold?”

“Mom, I can't hang on. My arm. I
can't.
”

Barbara was disgusted at the girl's whining. “I could have killed you and Madison when I had the chance,” she told Plato.

“Well, you didn't. It's okay, Lucy,” he said softly. “I've got a gun on our Ms. Allen. She's not going anywhere.”

Lucy placed the .38 next to the hemlock root and dropped onto her hands and knees. She hung herself partially out over the rain-soaked ledge, inspecting, as if she knew what she was looking at. Barbara wasn't impressed. This was all for show.