Chapter Sixteen

Emma’s blood ran cold. She spun round to find Wesley Vaughn standing in the doorway shadows. She couldn’t see his expression clearly, but the gun in his hand, aimed at her and Sam, caught her attention. “You killed Jen? Why?”

“For my wife. Absurd, isn’t it?”

She expected a crazy laugh, some sign of obvious insanity. Instead, Wesley Vaughn was cold and composed, and might as well have been discussing the change of rain to snow as an admission of murder.

Sam stepped out in front of Emma before she could respond. “What the hell did you do, Wes?”

“I did what I had to do. It was my weekend for the lodge. They never should have come. I tried my best to keep them all out of it, but Audrey and Jen went off the script.”

“What did Audrey do?” Sam took another step, blocking Emma from sight. She tried to get around him, but he kept her in place. Then she realized his phone was in the usual carrying spot: his back pocket. Between his size, her position, and the shadows, she was all but invisible to Wesley. Taking advantage of the moment, she slipped his Blackberry out, muted the call out sound, and used the phone log to dial Jake Meyer.

The call connected and Emma spoke loud and clear. “You don’t want to kill us, Wesley. Why did you murder Jen? None of this makes sense.”

“For once, it wasn’t about precious Jen.” Wes snorted in disgust. “I planned to pay Audrey back for sleeping around, to humiliate her as she’d done to me. Robin and I were having an affair and I’d set it up so Audrey would catch us in the act.”

“So now it’s Audrey’s fault,” Sam said. “That’s a crock.”

“I never realized Audrey’s depth of passion or insanity.” Wesley’s voice held a strange note of truth. “I’d been dropping hints for several months about my infidelity to prime the pump. She stole my gun with the intent to kill her rival. And that’s exactly what she did.”

A chill washed over her. Not from his words, but from the pronounced change in energy. The air grew tight. Emma peeked around Sam. Behind Wesley, shadows gathered. A thread of anger wrapped around them, an invisible web drawing tighter and tighter.

“Audrey shot Robin Taggert.” Emma spoke clear and slow, hoping Jake Meyer heard ever word.

Wesley proceeded on, unaware of her deception. “I was going to call Audrey at the lodge and lure her to the guest annex with the promise of adventurous sex. We were working on ‘spontaneity’ among other things and I’d led her to believe we were to role play one of her fantasies. I planned for her to find me with Robin.” He swore viciously then, cursing his wife.

“Robin and I met briefly in the parking lot. That’s when Audrey saw us. She took the gun from her purse and headed to the annex. Jen must have followed Audrey, only instead of charging in the front door like my wife, she snuck through the rear. She saw Audrey shoot Robin, and worse, knew it was on film.”

“I can understand the other woman angle.” Emma found herself drawn into the macabre story. As far as cons went, it had merit—if you removed the two murders. Wesley had found a younger, prettier woman with more money and a better pedigree. To throw her in his wife’s face on the weekend they were trying to repair their marriage would destroy a woman like Audrey. Trust a world-renowned psychiatrist to create something so devious and destructive. There was only one major, glaring, idiotic flaw that seemed very unlike the cold, calculating Dr. Vaughn.

“Why film it?”

“That was not part of my plan. Robin was one of my patients,” he said. “A nymphomaniac with a narcissist’s need for high risk scenarios and exposure. Her one demand for our performance was I had to film it for her. I knew it was stupid, but if I wanted this to work, I had to acquiesce to her demands. I planned to destroy the memory card later, when she’d tired of the game.”

Sam was right, the man was organized and savvy. Fate, however, had thrown a monkey wrench into his perfect plan. Dad always warned her about those kinds of things. Hope for the best, prepare for the worst. Doctor Perfect had the perfect Plan A, but failed one of the big tests of running a good con: he had no back up Plans B, C, and D. “So you killed Jen to keep her from talking? She was a mistake?”

Wesley’s body tensed at the accusation of his failure, and his voice took on a faraway tone as he relived that fateful night five years ago. “Audrey freaked when she realized Robin was dead. She panicked, and ran. I reacted fast. The wife I thought despised me, loved me enough to kill. I had to protect her so I strangled Jen, the only witness. Then I went after Audrey. In my concern for my wife, I didn’t squeeze hard enough, or long enough, though. Jen wasn’t dead. She came round, and ever the opportunist, used the time to grab the evidence of the murder. Not only is Robin’s death on film, Jen’s strangulation is there as well.”

Sam jumped back in. “By the time you got hold of her again, she’d hidden the necklace and the memory card.” He was in full on protector mode now. She sensed the awakening, felt the coiled tension in his body. She only hoped the gloom separating them kept the observant doctor from noticing. “The necklace was insured and she knew no matter what happened to her, people would keep looking for the diamonds. When they found that, they’d find the proof of what you’d done.”

“Even as strung out as she was, she was smart. I had no idea where she’d stashed it, inside or outside of the main lodge,” Wesley allowed. “When Keith was alive, it was easy to conduct searches. Once you moved in, and Emma arrived, things became more complicated. It then became a matter of watching and waiting, and tying up loose ends.”

Emma shivered again, and Sam kept talking, stringing out the play and buying them time. “Why drug everyone that night, Wes? Wouldn’t it have been easier to wait another day and play out your game with Robin and Audrey the next night when everyone was gone?”

“It was my night. Mine. I’d set the plan in motion, I wasn’t about to let a bunch of idiots interfere. Besides, Robin was supposed to leave for an extended vacation in Aruba the following morning. Given her sexual appetite, she would move on to another lover by then, and I’d have to lay my groundwork with a new woman all over. It would have worked fine if Mike hadn't spilled Jen's water bottle. I'd spiked it heavily since she was using cocaine that night. I'd also dosed her glass to be safe. After the police arrived, when no one was watching, I removed all containers with trace amounts of the drug.”

So much for doctors not being killers. Emma hoped Jake was on his way with the cavalry. She joined the conversation playing Sam’s game for time, striking Wesley at his weakest point by stroking his ego. “That’s very intricate. I can’t imagine the average person pulling something like that off, but you did. Brad Heath, and Lou Preston helped, didn’t they?”

“Brad,” he said, with obvious distaste. “I’d asked him to pick up Robin in the city. Audrey was known for her drugs and whoring ways. It ruined her job, but her family name made sure she stayed accepted in all the right circles. I wouldn’t manage such a similar fall from grace. I couldn’t be linked to Robin, a patient, so Brad was a beard. Besides, she liked the cloak and dagger stuff. It fed her grandiose delusions.”

While Emma felt bad for the poor murdered woman, she had to admit that Robin had as questionable a reputation as everyone else involved. That night was the perfect storm. A lodge full of people with impulse control issues, no boundaries, fewer morals, and the one person who had a modicum of sense leaving them all unattended. It was a wonder only two of them ended up dead.

Wesley warmed to his show and continued talking . “Brad came up with the idea to use fire to conceal Jen’s death. Lou was behind the wait to dump Robin’s body after the grounds were searched. They stored her at his house, then brought her back to the lodge. They both wanted money and were only too happy to help me take care of my problem for the right price. But Lou was an opportunist and greedy. He got rid of Heath afterwards along with Robin and took care of that meth freak, Mason. In the end it was one simple pay off for me.”

“Why kill Lou so many years later?” She breathed a silent prayer someone was hearing all this.

“Lou was a loose end. I should have killed him five years ago, but couldn’t at the time. Too many dead and missing, and the police get curious.”

“Audrey overdosed. She’s in a coma,” Emma countered. “Did you orchestrate that too?”

“No. Audrey has borderline personality disorder. It’s complex and not treatable by any medication. The Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome she acquired after the murders made it worse. I wouldn’t expect anyone to understand the depth of her troubles, or my trials as her husband. She finally went off the edge. If she comes out of it, no one will believe her over the trail of evidence I’d planted. She and Mike will take the fall. I’ll be free and clear.”

“How will you prove he had a hand in our deaths if he’s with the police right now?”

“It’s up to them to prove Mike’s guilt, not me. I’m going to leave part of the necklace behind. Enough to make it appear there was an outside accomplice. No one knows I’m here. Unlike the .38, this gun is unregistered. You and Sam will become another tragic cold case and the nightmare will be over for me at last.”

Sam swore. “Nice to see you’ve got everything planned out now. Wasn’t so easy back then. Five years ago it would have worked better if Jen and her party never showed up that night. Where’d you get the Rohypnol?”

“I’m a doctor, I have my sources. I planned to drug Audrey if she got out of hand after she caught me with Robin. That case I worked on with the Albany police gave me the idea. A date rape drug had a sort of poetic justice to it, since I’d felt completely violated by her infidelity.”

Emma angled the phone to catch more of the conversation. As if he’d read her thoughts, Wesley tilted his head and addressed her.

“What are you doing hiding behind Sam ? If it weren’t for you, the truth would never have been found. I owe you my gratitude.” He took another step. “Time’s up. Throw the memory card to me, Sam.”

“You’re only going to kill us anyway, so why don’t you do it and get the thing yourself?”

Sam’s bravado gave Emma the chance to slip the phone into her trouser pocket.

“That’s true. I’m a damn good shot. All I need is a little light.”

RUNRUNRUNRUNRUNRUNRUNRUN.

Jen’s scream erupted in her head like a nuclear bomb. Emma put her hands over her ears reflexively, even though the sound was inside her skull. She stepped out from behind Sam, trying to escape the noise. Then, in the space of a handful of seconds, several things happened at once.

Wesley reached for the light switch. The temperature of the room dropped ten degrees. The dark coalesced into the solid and visible form of Keith Vaughn. Then the lights erupted, and electricity arced like lightning from the exposed switch panel. The stream of energy connected with Wesley Vaughn’s outstretched hand and pure electrical power surged through his body.

The murderous brother cried out in agony, convulsed with the force, and reflexively squeezed off several wild shots. Keith reached out a ghostly hand at the gun, sending the shots on skewed angles, blowing out windows all around them.

Emma screamed and Sam forced her to the ground behind the desk as the glass blew from the hail of bullets. Breath left her lungs in a whoosh as he fell, dead weight, on top of her. Wesley Vaughn continued to scream while the lights shattered and the electricity roared through him, shorting out his heart and eventually killing him. When all fell silent and dark, Sam rolled to the side of her.

“You okay?” he asked on a ragged breath.

“Yes.” She sat up with him. She smelled something funny. Coppery. “You’re bleeding.”

“One of the bullets hit me. Don’t worry, think it was a pass through.” He heaved himself up and looked around. Emma got to her feet and checked him head to toe. A stain spread out just above his heart. Half an inch lower and he’d be dead.

“You need a doctor,” she said, panic clogging her throat. “Where the hell is the sheriff?” Emma saw Keith looking over the dead form of his brother, but she didn’t care about the already dead. Her focus was on the living. She grabbed the desk phone and dialed 911.

Keith glided towards them. Emma shielded Sam, not sure what the spirit’s intent was at this point. The apparition held up a hand in peace. His mouth moved, issuing ghostly words that dusted her ears like a trick of the imagination. “Jen was locked in that night she died, stuck in fear. She couldn’t fully manifest. With her killer dead, I can set her free. We can both find peace at last. Thank you.”

Noisy footsteps sounded out in the hall. “Emma, Sam, you okay?”

Jake’s voice shook the rafters.

Keith’s ghost smiled down at them, then vanished as Jake and two more deputies spilled into the room.

The acting sheriff looked at the dead doctor and bleeding Sam and holstered his gun. “I was in my car when I got the call. Only five minutes away. Quick thinking. Though it seems you didn’t’ need me.”

“We need an ambulance,” Emma said “Please tell me you called one already?”

“Standard operations in a hostage situation. Should be here in a minute. Meanwhile I’ll grab the first aid kit.

“Here’s the evidence.” Sam struggled to lift his right arm. The effort cost him, and he staggered back into the chair.

“Sit still,” she said, as she held her hand against the wound to stop the blood. It didn’t seem like a gusher, but she didn’t know much about first aid or bullet wounds.

Sam looked up at her through bleary eyes. “I screwed up back at the police station. Let me make it up to you.”

The words were a direct hit to her heart. The last thing either of them needed to consider was rose colored futures. He almost died. Could still die. Emma shut down the thoughts, knowing panic would follow if she didn’t. “You’re suffering from blood loss and a bullet wound. This can wait.”

“Tell me you’ll give me another chance. That you’ll be here when I get back.”

She wanted to scream. She wanted to run. She wanted to be anywhere but here, holding her hand over his bleeding wound, while her own heart broke.

“Thank you for protecting me,” she said softly. “I owe you my life. When the bullets started flying, you took me down and kept me safe. I’ll never forget that.”

“Don’t forget me,” he muttered, his velvet voice dreamy and soft. “Promise.”

Never in a million years would she forget him or the fire they shared. She hated him for how he’d made her feel. And she hated herself for thinking they had a chance. “Promise.”

Jake returned with the first aid kit. “Ambulance is three minutes out. He’ll be fine. It will hurt like hell, take some rehab, but it’s a clean wound with a pass through.”

“You sound like you’ve experienced this first hand.”

“Not my first time to this dance either.”

Sam relaxed under Jake’s care, and Emma stayed close. She held his hand while Jake, and then the EMTs, treated him. She stayed in the operating room waiting area and talked with the surgeon who told her that despite the trauma, he was in safe waters and would make an excellent recovery. She even watched him for a while when he returned to the recovery area, until Jake showed up with coffee to relieve her shift.

“Long drive back to the city this time of night,” he said, handing her the giant cup of acid scented cafeteria sludge.“Figured you could use this.”

She felt uncomfortable, guilty even, but if she stayed to see him wake, it would only be worse. The coffee tasted as bad as it smelled, but it sent the needed pick up to the right spots. “How’d you know I was leaving tonight?”

“Woman gets a certain look in her eyes, means she’s feeling a lot of strong things. Sometimes it takes distance to sort it all out. A smart man learns to be step back when he sees it. You have that look right now. Like you can’t decide if you want to cheer to heaven Sam’s okay, or if you want to kill him yourself.”

There was no denying that truth. Jake Meyer was way too canny, bordering on spooky. Emma was starting to understand why most of Meyerville feared and respected him. “Thanks for the coffee. You’ll keep an eye on him? Make sure he heals up?”

Jake nodded. “Any messages you want me to pass along?”

Words swirled like a storm in her head and her heart. She shouldn’t say anything, just cut and run. But something made it out of the maelstrom and to the surface. “Tell him I’m sorry. What’s broke between us can’t be fixed by words.”

He sipped the coffee and slanted a curious gaze down at her. “Will do. Thanks for all the help. Mind if I keep your number on file?”

“Would saying no stop you?”

“Nope.”

“Take care, Sherriff.”

“That’s acting sheriff.”

He’d be permanent, whether he knew it or not. Didn’t matter how hard he’d fight it, either. That much she was sure of, the intuitive vibe coming through strong and clear. “We’ll see.”

Emma took one last look at Sam and left, hurrying to her car before she softened up any further and talked herself into staying one more day. She had to remind herself why she was leaving, coach herself that they had no future. They were too different and she didn’t think she could get over what she felt was his betrayal. Maybe it was petty. Maybe even a little childish, but he failed an important test for her, a test of trust. It was that chip on her shoulder again, but that chip was part of her. She needed his trust, or what actions she thought passed for trust, and Emma didn’t think she could put that need aside.

On the drive home it occurred to her a few times what she might be missing by giving up a chance to start over with Sam. But she squashed that ruthlessly by the time she’d reached Manhattan. What he wanted in a woman, she wouldn’t provide, because what she thought she needed in a man wasn’t in him. Or maybe in anyone. Happy for-ever-after with prince charming was a load of crap. There was only happy for now, in the moment, and then there were memories. That had always worked for her, and it would work now. The roller coaster ride of emotions she’d had with Sam was enough to last ten lifetimes, and while she’d miss the highs, the lows were too hard to handle and the pay off wasn’t worth the risk of playing the game any longer.