Family Skeletons Page 23

  The shirt padding may absorb the blood and keep him from leaving a trail.

  But Bev is going to expect us to go to the road, not the beach. She’ll follow him anyway.

  Uh-huh. That’s why he sent you this way, dummy.

  A shot rang out. Sunny froze.

  No. No!

  “Sunny?” Bev’s voice.

  “This way,” Ryan hollered, and Sunny sagged in relief at the sound of his voice.

  “Sunny!” Bev sounded angry. “I don’t want your friend, but I’ll go through him to get to you if I have to.”

  “Why, Bev?” Ryan asked. His voice was mild, as if he had nothing more on his mind than idle chitchat. “She didn’t do anything. It was Franklin. Roberta, too, I guess. But Sunny had nothing to do with anything.”

  Their voices were a little distance apart. Bev could easily zero in on him, but Sunny had to trust that he knew what he was doing. Sunny had entered a dense cypress thicket and was trying to work her way out. The limbs didn’t bend so she had to maneuver around and under and over.

  “I’m out of time, but I don’t care anymore.” Bev’s chilling lack of emotion lent credence to her words. “Matthew should get this place, but I can’t do that for him. But I can make certain she doesn’t get it. You didn’t know you had a brother, did you, Sunny?”

  “Actually, we had figured that out, Bev.” Ryan sounded closer to her. Was he stalking her now?

  Get the rifle, and we’ll be home free.

  “Matthew knows, too, doesn’t he?” Sunny called out. She was giving away her position, but distracting Bev now seemed more to their advantage. “But he doesn’t hate me like you do. In fact, I think he’s been trying to protect me from you.”

  Silence. Was Bev too smart to be distracted?

  The ocean was getting louder and would mask traveling sounds Sunny made, but would also cover Bev’s approach. One more tree stood between Sunny and the edge of the ravine.

  Goad her. You’ve got to find out where she is.

  “There have been phone calls at strategic times,” Sunny hollered. “Matthew must’ve missed you the day you pushed me off the cliff and guessed you were out here. The men came after me and sent you running because he’d called and asked for me.”

  More silence.

  “You gave him an alibi, as I remember, but it must not have occurred to anyone that no one asked him to give you the same alibi.”

  Still nothing from Bev.

  Be careful, Sunny. You’re trying to play her, but it seems she’s playing you instead.

  But she went on anyway; what else could she do? “You may hate the idea, but Matthew doesn’t seem to mind having a sister. Did he guess, or did you tell him his father wasn’t the man you were married to? If you did, that’s a tough thing to do to a kid. Had your hate warped you so much that you lost consideration of him?”

  Ryan, I haven’t heard anything from you for a while. What are you up to?

  As if in answer she heard a sudden sound of surprise from Bev—a high-pitched squeal—and then another shot cracked. In the relative silence between crashing waves, Sunny caught muted sounds of a struggle and then a loud grunt of pain.

  She froze, listening with every nerve.

  Ryan was wounded and weak but had taken her by surprise. He’d have the upper hand and should be able to keep it. Sunny waited, standing on the bluff. For balance, she placed a hand on the cypress at the edge of the sheer drop.

  Then she heard Bev’s voice, sounding winded, yet basking in victory. “He’s down, Sunny. It’s just you and me now.”

  Sunny felt such a heavy weight inside, she could barely breathe. “Ryan?”

  No answer.

  “Ryan? Talk to me.”

  The beach, Sunny, the beach. Get down there. It’s his only chance. If he’s still alive, it’s his only chance.

  But it was a long way down. She stood still, staring at the sand, working on building her strength and hanging on to her wits by sheer will. She had to get down there, but how?

  Jump. You survived one fall. You can survive another one.

  Another rifle shot had her snapping her head around, and she almost lost her footing.

  It wasn’t even close. She’s fishing, Sunny. She doesn’t know exactly where you are. And she’s got that rifle to hang on to, so she’ll be slower getting here than you were.

  She looked back at the sand. Jump and roll, it was the only way. She closed her eyes, praying for the courage to do what she had to, and then again she froze.

  The ladder. Nature’s ladder, stupid. Remember?

  Where was it? Where is it?

  She knelt at the edge, craned her neck to look down.

  There!

  Wrapping her arms around the trunk of the tree, she duck-walked around it, careful of the slippery ice plant at its base. Then inch by careful inch, she lowered one leg until her foot found the uppermost part of the root that snaked its way halfway down to the sand. She regretted the cutoffs she wore that allowed the cliff to scrape at her legs.

  Once her foot settled on the root, her position became less precarious. So far, so good. Next she needed to reach down and get her hand around the root that her foot rested on, and that was going to be a neat trick. With each hand grasping a fistful of the flimsy ice plant, she managed to get her other foot onto a lower part of the trunk’s root, and she extended her right arm until she got fingers around the protruding part that her highest foot rested upon. Her other hand groped for purchase in the uneven side of the cliff as she lowered herself a couple more inches.

  “Sunny?” Bev’s voice was close, too close. She’d made good time. But her tone was tentative, still fishing. She hadn’t seen her prey go over the side.

  Sunny held her breath, then let it out slowly and forced even breaths. If she made any kind of noise, she was a sitting duck. One foot found the edge of a protruding rock, and her hand got a good grip on the root that was pressing into her stomach, and she lowered herself several more inches. Then her foot slipped off the rock and the knife-sharp edge of it gouged a line straight up the inside of her calf.

  She locked her lips together and fought off a yelp, directed her gaze down, and watched a thick stream of blood pour down her leg. The gash was long and deep. She raised her head, closed her eyes and forced another deep, even breath. There was one more handhold. Then she was going to have to trust free fall. Once she’d grasped the lowest part of the root in both hands, her feet still dangled five feet above the sand. She let go.

  She hit and rolled, scrambled to her feet and then dove for the cliff on the other side. A bullet whined past, struck a beer can and sent it flying, then Sunny was in the relative safety of the far cliff. Gritty sand stuck in her wounded calf but she didn’t pause. She had another problem besides Bev and her rifle. The tide was rising.

  Her pursuer couldn’t follow her down the cliff while holding the rifle. She’d have to backtrack to the end of the crevasse, cut across the field to the road and then to the beach path, and try to head her prey off at the cove. Sunny could get there first, but if the tide cut her off she was out of luck and options. The water swirled around her ankles and dragged at her feet.

  The next wave caught her at the knees. When the salt water filled the gash in her leg she couldn’t contain her scream. She lost precious seconds waiting for the water and the burning to subside. Then she got her breath back and ran. She made it into the cove, beating Bev. With her gaze on the beach path, Sunny waited for the wave dashing against the opposite cliff to ebb. Still no Bev. Sloshing through at what she thought was a much too slow pace, she reached the far side and then hugged the cliff as the water caught her again, now almost reaching her waist.

  It wanted her, dragged at her. Pressing her body into the cliff wall she held on to the slick, uneven surface, digging her fingers into the claylike muddy wall, consumed by the burning in her leg. When she thought she could stand it no longer the water level dropped but continued to pull at her legs. She trudged ahea
d, made it around the curve, and the next wave reached no higher than her ankles.

  No more obstacles existed between her and Chester and help. She ran as fast as the terrain allowed, her feet leaving deep gouges behind her in the wet sand, barely aware of the tears streaming down her face.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Sunny’s mind was racing as fast as her feet as she sprinted along the water’s edge. The ice cream place must have a phone. Nine-one-one, ambulance and the authorities, find Jonathan—

  Fear struck again, and again froze her in place.

  Nothing prevented Bev from driving into Chester, beating her prey there, and then doubling back on the beach to cut Sunny off. If Bev threw a sweatshirt over the rifle, no one would give either her or it a second look.

  Sunny sagged, but she couldn’t give up. She crossed over to the base of the cliff and trudged ahead. It was slower going in the dry, loose sand, but safer in case she spied Bev in the distance.

  But it was Bev’s son, not Bev, who met her. And Jonathan was at his side.

  Sunny flew over the remaining distance and plowed into him. She held on as if he were a lifeline. Then she jerked back.

  “Ryan! He needs an ambulance. He—”

  “I know.” Although his eyes intently searched hers, his voice was calm. “We know. The ambulance is on its way to the hospital. Ryan’s okay. He was on his feet, weak but coherent.”

  “Oh.” She stared at him, hearing him but unable to grasp the facts. “But...”

  Jonathan stepped back to look at her leg. “What did you do? You need attention, too.”

  “But Bev. What about Bev?”

  When Sunny looked at Matthew, she wanted to cry at the desolation in his expression. And her eyes must have held her anguish when she glanced back at Jonathan because he pulled her to him almost roughly, and one hand cupped her head against his chest. His heart was pounding furiously, belying his calm tone.

  “It’s okay,” he said. “She’s with Joyce. And Matthew’s all right. He knows, and he understands.”

  How can Matthew be all right? How?

  “First things first,” Jonathan went on, and then he drew back. He took time to pull in a long breath before finishing. “Let’s get you to the truck and then to the hospital. I can explain on the way. Matthew will go with us.”

  But the young man hung back. “No, uh, you take care of Sunny. She needs you. She needs, uh...I’m okay. And I need to...I should...”

  Sunny pulled away from Jonathan and went to Matthew. She put her arms around him, buried her head on his shoulder and cried. She let go completely, not holding anything back. At first he remained rigid. Then he grew limp, except for his arms that tightened around her, and finally he lost the fragile hold he held on himself. She felt matching, shuddering spasms throughout his body.

  “Sunny, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I—”

  “Shut up, Matthew.” She drew back and swiped her forearm across her eyes. “Come on. We need to get to the hospital. I have to check on Ryan, and Jonathan’s going to bug me about my leg until somebody looks at it. I need you, Matthew. Please come with us.” Questioningly, she looked at Jonathan. “The store must be locked up?”

  He nodded, and she said, “Then let’s go.”

  When they reached the SUV, Jonathan made her sit on the passenger seat while he got out the first aid kit. A small crowd had assembled around them, probably because the bloody leg was an attention grabber. Sunny ignored the rubberneckers.

  “No,” she warned as Jonathan snapped open the bag. She shook her head, too drained to realize the absurdity of refusing treatment. “Don’t even think about it. That stinging stuff—”

  “Save it for the ER physician.” He rolled the gloves on so fast he would’ve won a competition if he’d been in one. With a professional gaze on her leg he unraveled a long swatch of gauze. Apparently if he had something familiar to do, like medical stuff, he lost his emotional involvement. “All I want to do is wrap it up before you do any more damage to it. They’ll numb it before they clean it out and stitch it up.”

  “Stitch it? With a needle?”

  He cut the material, giving her a look out of the corner of his eye. He wrapped the bandage around her calf. “You have a thing about needles?”

  “Stitches? You really think I need stitches?”

  “Yes.” Deftly he tore the end of gauze back into itself, separated the pieces and then tied them together. He’d been kneeling on one knee. He pulled back, resting his forearms across his upright knee, and gave her a level look. “Do we have a problem here?”

  Matthew stood next to him. Her gaze rose to the teenager. He looked scared, anxious, overwhelmed, full of doubt and insecurity, and in great need of guidance.

  “No,” she said. “No problem. I’m fine.”

  Jonathan had been aware of her glance, and just as clearly had read her thoughts. He waited until her eyes returned to his. Then he smiled, leaned forward to peck her lightly on the lips, and then he stood. “Good,” he said.

  * * *

  “Look at me, Sunny, not the needle.” Jonathan’s voice was mild, and it had a smile in it that made her want to hit him. But with her fists clenched and her teeth gritted, she did as he suggested.

  The needle full of anesthetic poked her once more and she yelped again and tried to pull her leg away again. But the doctor was the same sex and size as Sunny, had a good grip on her patient, and wasn’t about to let her get away. “Now come on. That wasn’t as bad as the first one, and this next one isn’t going to be as bad as that one.”

  As tense as a rock, Sunny blew her breath out, laid her head back down on the hard pillow and stared at the ceiling as she waited for the next stinging prick.

  “There,” the doctor said. “See what I told you? Did you have a problem with that one?”

  “Huh?” She frowned and lifted her head.

  Jonathan grinned. “Nope. No problem with that one.”

  “What have you been doing, anyway?” the doctor asked. “Wallowing around in a sandbox?”

  “Yes. And the tide caught me. The water was...”

  “I’ll bet it was.” The doctor seemed to understand there wasn’t an adequate word to describe salt water washing an open wound.

  Sunny stared hard into Jonathan’s eyes. “You’re sure Matthew’s okay?”

  “He’s okay.” He held her gaze then said quietly, “He needs his space, too. He’s nursing a cola in the waiting room.”

  The doctor stepped sideways to the head of the bed and gazed benignly down upon Sunny. “Promise not to run away if I leave you alone for a minute? Just long enough to let that medicine do what it’s supposed to do.”

  Sunny gave her what was probably a weak smile. “Promise.”

  The doctor left, and Sunny squeezed Jonathan’s fingers. “Thanks for holding my hand.” Now free from the threat of the needle, she felt friendly again.

  “You’re welcome.”

  “You didn’t give me much information in the truck. Is there anything else I should know?”

  “How about I just go over the whole thing again? Without having to be conscious of Matthew’s ears this time.” His eyes, voice, body language, everything about him was again calm and matter-of-fact. Which worked well for Sunny because she was short on peace of mind and it seemed that Jonathan had enough to share.

  “I didn’t see Bev at first,” he said. “I’d parked in back, and she must not have seen me either. I heard shots and then saw her tearing across the field. She looked deranged, and that’s not hindsight. She really was. Once she reached the pickup, I got behind her and grabbed the rifle, and she didn’t even resist. She just stared at me and mumbled something about being out of time. Then she told me my friend was in the trees and needed an ambulance. I thought she meant you, but then I saw Ryan staggering across the field and I really got worried. Between the two of us, Ryan and me, we got the story out of Bev while we were waiting for the ambulance. She was...cooperative. Even friendly. She
told us about Howard, Franklin, how much she hated you. She held nothing back. I...”

  He looked at the examining room’s closed door. When he next spoke, his voice was flat. “I felt sorry for her. I still do, and yet I’m mad as hell at her. And I can’t comprehend the fact that she didn’t even once mention Matthew.”

  “So full of guilt and hate that she let it rule her.” Sunny felt sad, weary, and sick inside. “She was so close to the edge. I don’t know how we missed it. I think Matthew saw it, but he was helpless. It was probably my moving back here, the official declaration of Franklin’s death, the will, the whole works. It just did her in.”

  “Yes. There is very little accountability there. She’s no longer close to the edge. She’s over it. That was not an act today.”

  * * *

  Ryan’s eyes were closed.

  Sunny had been told he was conscious, out of danger, and that he’d asked for her. But the sight of him, pale and still in a hospital bed, undid her. She was the unsteady one; he was the rock. She stood silently in the doorway for a long time.

  Then she walked to the chair next to his bed and sat down. She’d made no sound that she’d heard, but she must’ve disturbed the air because his eyes opened and focused on her.

  “Hi, doll.” He sounded out of it, probably still drugged. “I’m glad you chose the doctor instead of the cop.” It seemed he was trying for that characteristic flip in his voice, but it eluded him. “He got there first.”

  She swallowed, nodded. “He told me.”

  “What are you so choked up about? We did it, Sunny. We made it.”

  Then he looked at the ceiling, and added, “No thanks to me.” His gaze returned to her and he went on. “I had her, Sunny. I had her and the rifle, but she outsmarted me. She went limp and I thought she was giving up, but instead she made a fist out of both hands and walloped me really good right in the middle of my bloody shirt. I blacked out.”

  “I forgive you. You were the one who finally figured the whole thing out.”

  “Tom was close to getting it. It was his remark about it being local that kept rattling around in my subconscious. The other victim, the missing one, had to be local, too.”