The Waterfall (26 page)

She'd almost forgotten she had a gun. She glanced up the path. She raised it. “If you shoot Sebastian, I'll shoot you.”

Sebastian eased around slowly, without a word, and Jack inhaled sharply. Lucy didn't know what to do. She wasn't a marksman. She hated guns. She held her breath, met Sebastian's eyes just for an instant. He didn't speak. He didn't give her even the smallest sign as to what she should do.

Mowery moved, and she fired.

Blood spurted from his right buttock, and he swore viciously. Sebastian pounced, tackling Mowery with blinding efficiency and ferocity, knocking the gun from his hand as if he'd been waiting for just this moment, just this mistake.

Jack snatched up the gun. Lucy kept Barbara's gun pointed in their direction, in case she was mis-reading the situation and Sebastian wasn't winning.

Sebastian pushed Mowery facedown on the ground and yanked his hands behind his back in what looked like a professional hold. He shook his head at her. “You shot him in the ass?”

“I guess I did.”

“Lucy, for God's sake. You don't shoot someone in the ass. If you're in a situation that requires you to fire your weapon, you're shooting to kill.”

“I was shooting to shoot. It's not like I was aiming!”

“Well, hell. That makes me feel better.” He motioned to her with one hand. “You want to lower that baby, then?”

She lowered the gun. She knew Sebastian was half teasing, half lecturing to keep her mind off what she'd just done—how close they'd all come. She saw how serious his eyes were. “Did you have the situation under control?” she asked.

“No.” He grinned. “But I was working on it.”

Jack handed Mowery's gun to Sebastian and turned to his daughter-in-law. “Lucy,” he sobbed. “Oh, God, Lucy.”

“The kids are okay.” Suddenly tears were streaming down her face. “Madison, J.T.—they're okay.”

Sebastian held the gun on Mowery, moaning in pain. “Go, you two.” He spoke to Lucy and Jack without looking at them. “Go to your kids.”

Lucy walked over to him, the dirt road squishy under her feet. The rain had stopped altogether now; the air was close and yet refreshing, as if it had been washed clean. Her eyes met Sebastian's. His were still deadly serious. This, she reminded herself, was his job, work he knew how to do—work that had brought her to him in the first place.

“Are you okay?” she asked quietly.

“You mean, am I going to put a bullet in Mowery's head the minute you and Jack turn your backs?” He gave her a ragged smile. “I'm the one who renounced violence, remember?”

Lucy managed a smile back. “Well, don't tell
him
that.”

“Go on. I'll get Mr. Mowery to the police. No loose ends this time.”

Jack took her hand, and together they walked up to the falls. She told him what Barbara had done.

“My God, Lucy.” His voice cracked, tears spilled down his wrinkled cheeks. He squeezed her hand. “I had no idea. I didn't put it together. I should have spoken up sooner.”

“Water over the dam now, Jack. We both made mistakes.”

“I'm shattered,” he said, “and I'm stunned. I never expected this. Never, not in a million years. I'd have done anything—anything—to spare you and the kids this ordeal.”

“I know you would. That's the hardest thing, isn't it?” She pictured her injured daughter, her terrified son. “Realizing no matter how much you want to, how hard you try, you can't protect your kids from life.”

“It is. It's the hardest thing.” He tucked his hand into hers. “But you've given Madison and J.T. the skills they need, the good judgment. Lucy, when I saw J.T. running up those steps straight at Mowery—”

She shuddered. “It's over, Jack. It worked out.”

“Thank God.”

As they came to a curve in the path, Lucy glanced back. Sebastian was in the same position, alone with his gun drawn over an enemy who had once been his friend.

“He won't shoot him,” Jack assured her.

“No,” Lucy said, “he won't. But I think it's how he likes life best, don't you? Alone with a gun on a bad guy.”

“Actually, no. I think he likes life best with you. I think he has for a long, long time.” Her father-in-law pulled her arm around him and hugged her fiercely. “It just wasn't possible until now.”

T
he Capitol Police and the local police weren't too happy with the Swifts. “They chewed my ass off, too,” Rob said, as he and Lucy lined up supplies for the father-son backpacking trip. It was four days later, and they had work to do.

Lucy sighed. “Well, I was right about them crawling all over the place, wasn't I?”

Rob grinned at her. “A kidnapped senator does bring the men with guns out of the woodwork.”

The Capitol Police had assigned a detail to Lucy, Madison and J.T., until they completed their investigation and were satisfied Darren Mowery and Barbara Allen had no other accomplices. Straightforward greed, one detective told Lucy, was often an easier motive to sort out than vengeance and obsession.

Sebastian had found another car—a getaway car Mowery had put in place—in a small clearing on the western edge of Lucy's property. He'd meant to use Jack as a shield until he no longer needed him, then shoot him, shoot Sebastian and take off. Mission accomplished, Sebastian Redwing dead and discredited. Money was never the point. The freedom from hating Sebastian was.

Rob stood over a row of water bottles. “I wish J.T. could come with us.”

“Next year.”

He smiled gently. “Maybe Sebastian will take him.”

Lucy couldn't think that far into the future. Right now, it was enough to count water bottles. Madison and J.T. were with their grandfather and Sidney Greenburg, who'd flown up from Washington. They were all picking wild blueberries—even Madison with her broken arm in a cast. “We all need simple, healing tasks,” Sidney had said in that kind, firm way of hers.

After Rob headed for home, Lucy walked across her yard to her front porch. She paid attention to the soft grass under her feet, the warmth of the sun, the smell of the flowers and the sounds of the birds. Simple, healing tasks. Walking across the yard. Breathing in the clean summer air.

Plato Rabedeneira was sitting on a wicker chair on the porch. He looked less ashen and weak, but still wasn't a hundred percent. The bullet wound on his head was lightly bandaged, bruising at its edges.

Lucy laughed as she came up the steps, delighted to see him. “I didn't know you were getting out of the hospital. When did this happen?”

“I fought my way out this afternoon.” He grinned at her. “I thought the bastard'd never spring me. I hate hospitals.”

“How did you get here?”

“An FBI detective I know.”

“The FBI's here, too?”

“Lucy, everyone's here.”

“Well, they can all go home. I want my life back.”

His dark, handsome eyes settled on her. “Do you?”

She knew he meant Sebastian. “I can't leave here,” Lucy said quietly. “This is my home. Madison and J.T. need to be here.”

“Lucy, Lucy.” Plato shook his head at her. “There are two things in Sebastian's life that are permanent. This place and you.”

“His ranch—”

“He almost lost the damn thing in a poker game.”

“Redwing Associates,” she said.

“He's done his bit. He can do something else, maybe leadership training. You get the right kind of leadership in place, you can prevent a lot of trouble down the line.” He stretched his long legs. “Of course, sometimes you just run into bastards and wackos. Keeps us in business, I guess.”

“Bastards and wackos. Are those technical terms?”

“Absolutely.” But his grin faded, and he said softly, “Lucy, I'm sorry I didn't do better by your kids.”

“You did fine by my kids. Madison's got good-looking men with guns watching over her, and J.T.'s named one of his Micro Machine helicopters after you. I'm sorry you got shot looking after them.”

“Yeah. Not your everyday baby-sitting job.”

“You're welcome to stay with us as long as you want.”

But he shook his head, rising stiffly to his feet. “I need to get down to Washington and check on Happy Ford.”

“She's okay?”

“She's got a long recovery ahead of her, but she's tough.”

“Then it's back to Wyoming?”

“Work's piling up.” He took both her hands and pulled her to her feet. His dark eyes sparkled with a humor that was pure Plato Rabedeneira. “Don't tell Sebastian, but I had his cabin bulldozed. Packed up his poetry and maple syrup and mowed that sucker down.”

Lucy bit back a smile. Plato, Sebastian and Colin had always had an unusual friendship, the rules of which she didn't understand. “What about his dogs and horses?”

“Moved them up to the main part of the ranch. I think the yellow Lab might do okay out here. The other two are western dogs. Sebastian can get new horses.”

“Plato…”

“He's staying, Lucy. Trust me.”

“I don't know. It's as if he's gone inside himself. I don't even know where he is.”

Plato laughed. “Are you kidding? He's out playing detective with the big boys and checking out the talent in case he sees any good prospects for the company. I said he was staying, Lucy. I didn't say he was quitting.”

 

Sebastian took them up to the falls that evening after dinner. Jack and Sidney promised to have hot cocoa and cookies waiting when they got back.

The sun was low on the horizon; the air warm and dry, without a breeze. At Lucy's side, Madison shook visibly. “Mom, I don't know if I can do it.”

“You don't have to do it. We can turn back.”

She nodded. There didn't seem an inch of her that wasn't bruised. Her cast was already covered with signatures, drawings of hearts and flowers, smiley faces. When the news of her ordeal spread through town, her friends came up by the carload.

“I'll do it,” she whispered.

Up ahead, J.T. held Sebastian's hand. He had his Plato helicopter in his other hand. He kept looking up at Sebastian, as if taking his cue from him. Sebastian focused on the task at hand. Mind the tree roots, step over the rocks. He'd been thoroughly no-nonsense since the police had carted off his former mentor and friend, a man he'd thought he'd killed a year ago.

They stopped when they could hear the falls. “Listen,” Sebastian said.

Madison frowned, then managed a small smile. “It's beautiful.”

J.T. looked around at her. “What?”

“The sound of the waterfall.”

“It's just water,” he said.

Sebastian tugged on his hand. “Come on.”

They walked all the way to the top of the falls, to the ledge where Barbara Allen had dangled Madison. The scraggly hemlock was still scarred from the rope. Madison was breathing rapidly, and Lucy worried about her going into a panic attack or hyperventilating. But she said nothing, and her daughter squared her jaw and pushed ahead of her mother, her brother and Sebastian. Madison placed a hand on the tree and looked down into the deep, cold pool.

“
Don't,
Madison,” J.T. sobbed. “You'll fall.”

“It's just water and rock,” she said over her shoulder at him. “Come on, J.T. I didn't fall the other day. I was pushed.”

Tentatively, he went and stood next to his sister, but kept back from the very edge of the ledge. Sebastian looked at Lucy, his hard gaze impossible to read. “What about you?”

She remembered her terror and helplessness at seeing her daughter hanging over the waterfall, knowing she was hurt, frightened, one wrong move away from not coming out of there alive. Her baby. She blinked back tears, could almost feel Madison's little head against her shoulder as she'd rocked her as an infant. Madison wasn't a baby anymore.

“Come on, Mom,” J.T. said.

Lucy walked up the sloping rock and stood next to her children. The water of Joshua Falls ran clear, a mix of sunlight and shade dancing on the surface. “We did good that day,” Lucy said. “All of us.”

Madison smiled at her mother. “It's beautiful here. It's just so beautiful.”

On the way back, J.T. skipped ahead to catch tree toads, and Madison counted the names on her cast. Lucy smiled at Sebastian. “At least we managed to do that without the Capitol Police on our tails.”

“No, you didn't.”

“You mean—”

“They shadowed us. I just didn't tell you.” He grinned at her. “Jack's leaving in a couple of days. They'll go then, too.”

“Good.”

“I will, too.”

She swallowed, kept walking. “Back to Wyoming?”

“Yes. I have things I need to sort out, Lucy.”

“I know you do. I'll be here.”

He smiled and said nothing, and Lucy decided not to tell him Plato had had his cabin bulldozed.

 

“Lucy has a good life here,” Sidney said, “a damn good life.”

Jack nodded, holding Sidney's hand as they sat on the back steps waiting for Lucy, Sebastian and the kids to return from their trip to Joshua Falls. “Yes, she does. I'm happy for her.”

“But you weren't, not for a long time.”

“No,” he admitted. “I guess I thought if she stayed in Washington and didn't move on with her life, somehow it kept a part of Colin alive. I miss him, Sidney. Some days it's so hard, even now.”

She turned his hand over and kissed his palm. “You'll have those days for the rest of your life. Be grateful for them. They tell you how much you loved your son. They tell you that you don't have to be afraid you'll ever forget him.”

“I couldn't protect him, Sidney. I couldn't protect Eleanor.”

“No, you couldn't.”

He smiled and brushed her cheek with the tips of his fingers. “How did you get to be so smart?”

She laughed, her dark eyes crinkling. “By not really and truly falling in love until I was fifty. Now.” She sprang up and dusted off her bottom. “If you don't mind, I'm not your romance-in-the-country sort of person. Too damn many mosquitoes.”

“You're not going to want to move to Vermont?”

“God, no.” She grinned, and Jack's heart melted. “Don't look at me like that, Senator Swift. I am not making love to you in the pumpkin patch.”

He pulled her close. “Does this mean you're willing to hang your panty hose in my bathroom?”

“Jack,
Newsweek
has us as an item. The cat's out of the bag. I'll hang my panty hose in your Senate office.”

“I don't know about that.”

She laughed and kissed him. “I do.”

His heart jumped. “Sidney?”

“Yes, Jack. I'll marry you.”

 

“Goddammit, Plato,” Sebastian said two days later when he arrived back in Wyoming. They stood in the dust where his cabin had been. “You bulldozed my place.”

“Not me. I'm the boss. I delegated the job.”

“To whom? I want a name.”

“I promised anonymity.”

Sebastian glared at him. They'd met in Washington to visit Happy Ford, now recuperating at home, and Plato had never mentioned the cabin. “My stuff?”

“Packed up.”

“Where?”

“In your truck. I figure you'll have to drive back to Vermont. The yellow Lab won't take to flying.”

Sebastian nodded. “I'll need a truck in Vermont.”

The other two dogs rolled on their backs in the dust. They wouldn't do well with kids and easterners. Definitely western dogs.

Sebastian grinned at his friend and partner. “I'll let this one go, seeing how you got shot in the head.”

“That barely counts as a bullet wound. Now, the one in my arm hurt. Lucky there was no nerve damage. Do you know that crazy bitch thought she was an expert marksman?”

“Ms. Allen had a lot of lofty ideas about herself.”

“She operated according to a logic all her own.” Sebastian knelt beside the shepherd and rubbed the old dog's stomach. He breathed in the cool, dry air. He loved this place—it had restored his mind and body. But his soul wasn't here. “If Lucy hadn't shot Mowery in the ass, I'd have killed him.”

“If you had no other choice. You're a professional, Sebastian. This was personal, but you kept your cool. Your mistake,” Plato said, “was in letting Mowery take the credit for thwarting that assassination attempt all those years ago.”

“Thwarting?” Sebastian got to his feet, grinning at him. “What kind of word is that?”

Plato's eyes darkened. “You know what I'm saying. Darren Mowery didn't have it. The instincts, the keen sense of right and wrong, the ability to stay focused and not get cynical. He just didn't have it.”

“He wanted to, at least in the beginning.”

“You, on the other hand. You never wanted it.”