Paying The Piper - 39. Chapter 39

Cale knew something was wrong the second they pulled up to his house. Every lamp was lit. Elizabeth’s small Mercedes coupe and Stuart’s White BMW were sitting side-by-side in the round driveway. Cale’s stomach lurched into his throat. "Shit," he whispered.

Drew jumped out and approached the two cars. Cale followed, glancing warily up at the house. When he reached Drew, he came up short. Drew was staring at the trunk of Stuart’s car. His eyes never leaving the vehicle, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. He dabbed it against the trunk lid, near the release lever. It came away wet. The blazing light from the house made it impossible to mistake what was on the white material.

"Blood," Cale whispered.

Drew didn’t answer. He folded the material in on itself and shoved it back in his pocket. "Hang on," he said before jogging back to the jeep.

Cale licked his lips as he continued to stare at the house. He was mesmerized by it. The last time he could remember it looking like this – so grand and imposing – had been when his father was still alive. Angus’s standing order was to light every fixture in the house every night. It lit up the hillside and made the mansion look like some grotesque topper on a birthday cake. It was ostentatious and wasteful and was one of the first things Cale changed after his father died.

Drew returned a moment later. He had tugged his t-shirt out of his jeans. Cale watched as he tucked a small handgun into the waistband at the small of his back.

"Stay here," Drew ordered.

Cale’s mouth dropped open. "Absolutely not!"

Drew rounded on him. He fisted his hand in Cale’s shirt and pulled him in for a rough kiss. It wasn’t tender or even arousing. It was desperate. "Please, Cale," he said. "Stay here. I have enough to worry about."

He started to walk away, but Cale grabbed him back. "Be careful," he said, trailing a hand over Drew’s cheek. Drew nodded before turning away and jogging around the side of the house toward the east gardens.

Cale paced along the side of Drew’s jeep, sneaking a glance at his watch every few seconds. Only five minutes had passed, but it felt like an eternity.

A shot rang out from somewhere inside the house. A minute later, there was another. Without thinking, Cale took off running toward the east wing entrance, where Drew had disappeared a few minutes ago.

As he rounded the corner of the house, a pair of headlights flashed across the front lawn, illuminating him. Then he was around the side and deep in the shadows of the east garden.

**********

"Cale!" Quent called as he saw his friend disappear into the darkness.

Sarah rolled her eyes as she screeched to a stop next to Drew’s jeep. "I don’t think he heard you, but seeing as we’re a hundred yards away and all the windows are up, I’m not surprised."

Quent slammed his fist onto the dashboard. He threw open the door and tried to extract himself from the car, but his lapful of slippers wasn’t cooperating. "Goddamn it! Get these things off of me," he yelled.

"Okay, okay. Just...would you wait a minute? Oh, stop! You’re crushing them!"

Quent shoved the last of the bags at Sarah and climbed from the car with a grimace. He limped toward the front door, cursing when his leg protested the swift pace. He almost tripped over Sarah when she stepped in front of him. "Get out of my way," he hissed, pushing around her.

"What are you doing? You’re going to get yourself killed."

"Cale and Marcus are in there, along with Elizabeth, I’m sure." He took a step forward and they were nose to nose. "Now get out of my way. This may surprise you, but I do know what the fuck I’m doing!" He pushed past her and limped away.

"Wait! What am I supposed to do?"

"Stay by the car. I have no idea what’s going on. I don’t want any more casualties."

Sarah gulped at the word ‘casualties.’ She walked back to her car and waited. She watched as Quent struggled up the stairs and, after finding the door open, slipped inside.

Sarah sighed and fidgeted. Her eyes fell on Stuart’s car. It made her shiver to look at it. She thought of all the times she had seen it parked on Cynthia’s street or downtown when she and Cynthia had been shopping. Tears filled her eyes as she thought of her friend. Cynthia had been cheated out of the best years of her life. More tears dripped down her cheeks, but her expression became determined. She wasn't going to stand by and let it happen to anyone else. Setting her jaw, she took off at a fast jog around the side of the house, where she had last seen Cale running.

***********

"Hurry!" Steve urged. "You need to hurry!"

"Hey, buddy. No shit! This is my girlfriend we’re talking about here," Rob growled. "I’m going as fast as I can." He huffed in frustration. "I’m going to call Quent." He reached into the console for his cell phone, but came up empty. "Shit! I left it at the station." He banged his hand on the steering wheel and cursed.

"Not much he could do anyway," Steve said. "He can’t even drive. And what makes you think he’d give a shit anyway. He never once bothered to call me back after all those times I tried to contact him about Cynthia."

Rob cleared his throat. "Actually, Mullen, Quent never got those messages."

Steve gave Rob a blank look. "Excuse me?"

"I clear that tape everyday. I never told him you'd been calling." Anticipating Steve’s fury, Rob said quickly, "You sounded like a lunatic, Steve. Quent would have just laughed and erased them himself. After he was done berating me for bothering him with such a stupid thing."

Steve opened and closed his mouth several times. How could he argue with the truth? He'd felt desperate, but he admitted he'd probably sounded crazy. He covered his face with his hands. "I can’t believe this is happening." He laughed once, bitterly. "Both Jim and Stuart. Is it something in the water?"

Rob clenched his teeth. "The way you make it sound, Stuart’s a certified loon. A true psychopath. In my opinion, Stahl was just crazy with greed. Still, it makes little difference in the end. Someone still ended up dead."

"What are you going to do?" Steve asked.

"When we get there?"

Steve nodded. Rob took a deep breath. He shrugged. "Hope you were wrong."

Steve snorted. "Hope springs eternal."

**********

Sarah entered the gardens. The main path meandered along the length of the house through several separated spaces. Here and there, small secluded alcoves housed a bench, fountain, or small table. The house loomed on her left, throwing enough light into the garden that she was able to walk without stumbling, yet remain shadowed.

Halfway down the path, she heard a thump, followed by a rustling. She froze and listened. A soft moan echoed back to her on the wind, and without thinking, she turned right, away from the house and down a lesser used grass and pebble path. A dozen paces later, she passed through a pergola dripping with wisteria into a round grassy area. The diffused light from the house gave only the barest illumination, but it was enough for Sarah to see what lay in the center. It was a body.

She stopped short, and her hand flew to her chest. No, no, no, her mind screamed. Not another one. She'd taken one shaky step backward when the body, covered in filthy, bloody rags, moaned and spoke.

"Is someone there? Is that you, Stuart, you twisted fuck?"

Sarah watched in horror as the body on the ground lifted its head and stared at her. "Sarah?" it said in a husky voice.

With a cry, Sarah flew forward and dropped to her knees next to Braden. "What happened?" she asked. She slid forward and helped Braden lift his head into her lap.

Braden ignored her question. "Sarah, you need to leave. Now! Call Quent. Tell him—" He broke off and coughed. Sarah turned his face to the side and he spat onto the ground. She smelled blood all over him.

"Braden, he’s already here. Quent, I mean. And so are Cale and Drew. Don’t worry – they’ll get him."

Braden reached up and grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. Even in the dim light, she could see how serious his injuries were. His whole body trembled and his voice was weak. "Run, Sarah," he said. "Don’t let him find you."

"No." Sarah shook her head. "I’m not leaving you."

Braden took a deep gurgling breath and made a sound that might have been a laugh. "I’m dead, Sarah. Now get out of here before he comes back."

Sarah grabbed Braden by the shirtfront and hauled him up into a sitting position. "You’re not dead yet. Now move!"

Braden gasped as Sarah tried to haul him off the ground. Halfway through the struggle, he gritted his teeth against the pain and forced his feet to move. After several minutes, they'd wrestled into a standing position, but Braden knew he was too weak to remain that way for long.

He turned his face into Sarah’s neck as they began the long, tortuous walk out of the garden and toward her car. "You’re something else," he wheezed into her ear.

Sarah sniffed and rubbed her hand under her nose. "So you’ve always been fond of saying."

"No, that’s not what I meant." He grimaced as they lost their balance and stumbled sideways into a tall hedge. Sarah righted them again and forged ahead. "You could've walked away," Braden said.

"No, I couldn’t have."

"Well, that’s what I meant when I said you’re something else."

Sarah stayed quiet, but her mouth curved into a reluctant smile.

***********

Leaving Cale by the car was one of the hardest things Drew had ever done. What he had really wanted to do was shove Cale back into the jeep, give him the keys and watch him drive far, far away. He wasn’t foolish enough to believe Cale would have, however. Frankly, Drew considered it a major victory that Cale had agreed to stay by the car in the first place.

He skittered around the hedges and dodged from shadow to shadow as he kept a careful eye on the house. Nothing moved within. Every room blazed with light. He looked into each window that he passed, but saw no one. He kept moving.

When he reached the east entrance, he slipped up the three steps to the wide glass doors. They were curtained and obscured whatever lay beyond, but Drew was out of options. The rear entrance faced an open expanse of lawn with no place to take cover should he need to. This was his door. With precise movements, he pulled the handle. It opened easily and soundlessly. After a quick look around the frame, Drew slipped through into a smaller side foyer. Open doorways loomed on all three sides. Drew took a deep breath and stepped forward. The house was quiet and still. Too still.

His sixth sense gave him warning a second before movement registered in the corner of his eye. He dropped to the floor too late. A gunshot ripped through the room and pain exploded in his head. He cried out and rolled over, reaching for his gun even as rivulets of blood ran over his face and into his eyes. But as he freed it from his waistband, it was kicked away. Drew cursed as it skittered across the polished wood floor and out of reach.

"Not very smart, Drew. You parked your jeep in plain sight. I saw you coming."

Drew clasped a hand to his temple, feeling where the bullet had grazed his scalp. Blood ran from the wound in a steady stream, and his hand was doing little to staunch the flow. Even though the shot had only grazed him, he was losing blood at an alarming rate. With a groan, he rolled over onto his back. Stuart was standing over him, gun cocked and ready. Drew contemplated kicking out with his feet, but Stuart stepped back out of reach. He stared at Drew, eyes burning. Drew returned the stare as best he could, but his eyesight kept blurring with blood.

After a few moments, Stuart gave a quirky half-smile. "Where’s Cale?"

"He’s not here," Drew answered, teeth clenched in pain.

"I don’t believe you," Stuart said. "Drew and Cale, like peas and carrots. Where you are, he can’t be far behind. Let’s give him a bit more incentive, shall we?" Stuart raised his gun to the ceiling and fired. Drew covered his eyes as plaster chips rained down around him. "That should get him in here," Stuart said with an evil smile.

Drew prayed Stuart was wrong, but knew in his heart it was the truth. Cale would indeed come.

"Let’s adjourn to the living room while we wait," Stuart said with a wave of his gun.

It took everything he had, but Drew managed to climb to his feet and stumble into the next room.

**********

"Look who I found sneaking about, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth raised her tear-stained face when Drew entered the room, Stuart close behind, the gun nosed into Drew’s back. She gasped, "Oh, Drew." When she saw blood covering the side of Drew’s face and most of his shirt, she gasped again. Enraged, she rounded on Stuart. "You shot him!"

"So perceptive. You’re not nearly as stupid as everyone says. Now shut up. I can still cuff you to that chair if you don’t behave." To emphasize his point, he jangled a pair of handcuffs in the air before replacing them on the table.

Stuart shoved Drew away and jerked his gun in the direction of the couch. Recognizing the unspoken order, Drew lurched across the room and collapsed next to Elizabeth. "It’s okay, Elizabeth," he slurred. Against his will, his body slumped against hers. She put an arm around his shoulders and guided him to lean back against the cushion. With another nasty look at Stuart, she ripped her blouse over her head - leaving her in nothing but slacks and a bra - folded it and held it to the open wound.

Drew looked up at her through his one clear eye. "I’m flattered. But would you believe you’re not my type?" he said, voice husky.

Despite herself, Elizabeth laughed. "That’s what I hear." She put more pressure on the make-shift bandage and glared over Drew’s head at Stuart. "Why are you doing this?" she hissed.

"Why?" Stuart asked in return. "Why?" he said again, voice rising. Both Drew and Elizabeth waited silently, not wanting to anger him further. Drew placed his hand over Elizabeth’s, offering what moral support he could.

"Because it’s time," Stuart continued. "Time for me to join Cynthia. I admit, I didn’t expect it to be so soon, but what’s a shortened life span compared to immortality with the one you love?"

"You’re crazy," Elizabeth said. Fresh tears formed in her eyes.

"Why not just shoot yourself and get it over with, then, if you’re so eager to join her?" Drew asked.

Stuart smiled and lowered himself into a chair several feet away. His grip on the gun never wavered. "Because, Drew, I haven’t punished Cale yet."

Drew’s heart skipped a beat. "What?" he croaked.

Stuart gestured at Elizabeth. "He’s going to watch his beloved wife die. It’s only fair. After all, Angus killed Cynthia."

Drew blinked in confusion. "Angus didn’t kill Cynthia, Stuart. You did."

"No, no, NO!" Stuart shouted. "When are you going to understand? She was corrupted. Ruined. Her innocence ripped away. I gave that all back to her. Baptized her in her own blood and sent her on to Heaven. She’s an angel, Drew. A beautiful angel. All her sins are forgiven."

A shocked silence followed Stuart’s outburst. Then Elizabeth asked, "How did Angus corrupt Cynthia?"

The genuine confusion on her face enraged Stuart even more. "You stupid bitch! You were there. You saw. He took everything away from them. Her family. They were left with nothing. She did what she had to in order to survive." He sobbed once and the gun wavered. Drew tensed, giving a split second thought to jumping for it, but Stuart righted it again a second later.

"I tried to hurry," he said to Drew in a desperate pleading voice. "I worked for years to become what I am. Who I am. But by the time I could help, by the time I could save her, she'd forgotten who she was. How pure and perfect she could be."

Elizabeth shook her head as she stared slack-jawed at Stuart. "That’s not what happened, Stuart. You’re right, I was there. She had choices. She was a good student; she was offered scholarships. She didn’t have to prostitute herself. That was her choice."

"No!" Stuart thundered. "She would never have done that willingly."

Elizabeth shot to her feet, leaving Drew to grasp the blouse against his head. Stuart’s eyes narrowed and he pointed the gun directly at her. "You fool!" she hissed. "She was a lazy good-for-nothing piece of trash. She was beautiful! She had opportunities. Do you know the real reason she didn’t take them? Because it meant she would have to work. When the truth was, she would rather earn her living lying flat on her back."

Drew groaned at Elizabeth’s last statement. He jerked her back down to the couch beside him. "You idiot," he whispered.

"It’s the truth," she said to Drew. "The truth," she reiterated as she looked back at Stuart.

Stuart’s smile was strained. "You know nothing," he said. "It’s time for Cale to suffer as much as we have. Cynthia and me."

"Why?" Drew cut in. He struggled to sit forward, but the movement made the room spin. "Even if what you say about Angus and Cynthia has some merit, Angus is dead. And Cale is not his father. He’s not to blame."

"Guilt by association, Drew. Cale never raised a finger to stop him. He supported him, in fact. So as soon as he gets here, which should be any second, it will be his turn to watch the love of his life bleed out and die." He trained the gun on Elizabeth.

Elizabeth made a strange hiccupping sound. Drew glanced sideways at her. Her lips were clamped shut and trembling. A second later, she lost the battle and the hysterical laughter that had been building burst free.

"Oh, Stuart," she said with a sad smile as the last of her giggles faded away. "Are you misinformed."