Page 63 of In the Dead of Night

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Nick retrieved his cell phone messages on the way to the bungalow. Worry notched into cold hard fear when he listened to Sara’s message. He couldn’t believe she was going to meet Blaine Stocker alone. He had a bad feeling about the man. Cursing, he tried her number, hoping to stop her, but the call went instantly to voice mail.

His cruiser’s tires slid on wet pavement when he whipped the car into a U-turn and headed for the coast highway. He mashed the accelerator, the speedometer jumping to ninety miles per hour as he snatched up the mike and called dispatch.

Relief rippled through him when he heard B.J. on the other end. “I need backup and an ambulance at the Douglas mansion.”

“Roger that, Chief.” A heavy pause. “What happened?”

“Someone is trying to kill Sara. I think they’re at the mansion now. No time to get into the details, but it has something to do with the murders twenty years ago.” He paused to negotiate a curve, backed off the speedometer when the car fishtailed. “Get someone out there now. No lights. No siren.”

“Got it.”

Nick disconnected.

The so-called accident had been a ruse. He’d fallen for it hook, line and sinker. And now Sara was going to pay the price.

He wasn’t going to lose her. Damn it, he wasn’t going to allow it.

Rapping his fist against the steering wheel, Nick cursed himself for leaving her alone. How could he have been so stupid? How could he put his own selfish needs above her safety?

But Nick knew the answer. Nancy’s death and the death of their unborn child had warped something inside him. The grief had been so achingly profound that some small protective mechanism kicked in whenever he began to feel too much for someone. He’d been willing to live a loveless and solitary existence as long as he never had to feel that gut-wrenching pain ever again.

Only now did Nick realize it had all been for nothing. At some point in the last days, he’d fallen in love with Sara. He’d done the one thing he’d sworn he would not. His heart had betrayed him. Once again, he faced the same horrific loss and grief as he had before.

“I’m not going to let this happen,” he vowed between clenched teeth.

He put the pedal to the floor.

And began to pray that he wasn’t already too late.

* * *

SARA COULDN’T BELIEVE her life was going to end this way. At the hands of a man whose father had murdered her parents and Nicholas Tyson in cold blood. She thought about the bogus suicide note. There was no way Sonia or Nick would believe it, particularly with the information she and Nick had just uncovered.

Nick.

The thought of him brought tears to her eyes. The image of his face filled her mind. The intimacies they’d shared just a few short hours ago. She’d fallen in love with him. The realization should have shocked her. But it didn’t. Maybe in some small corner of her mind she’d always loved him. Maybe in her heart she’d always known she would come back to this place. And fate would take care of the rest. How ironic that she would realize her one and only love just moments before her death.

Rain slashed at her like cold knives as she trudged down the path toward the cliffs. She heard Brett behind her, his footfalls heavy on the ground, raindrops pattering against his raincoat. She kept hoping Nick would appear on the trail in front of them, pistol drawn, and end the nightmare. But Nick was at the scene of what was probably a horrific crash that could possibly involve his mother. There was no way he could leave. There was no way he could even know she was in trouble.

Sara was on her own. If she was going to get out of this alive, she was going to have to come up with some kind of plan. If she refused to jump, she knew Stocker would shoot her. Either way, she was going to die.

Ahead, the path curved. Beyond, the cliffs looked out over a raging sea and rocky shore a hundred feet below. If she was going to do something, now was the time. Once they reached the cliffs, it would be too late.

Sara let her foot catch on a protruding rock, feigned a stumble, and dropped to her knees. “Damn it.” Grimacing as if in pain, she looked over her shoulder at Brett. “My ankle. Wait.”

He raised the gun. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“I think I sprained it.”

“I don’t give a damn about your ankle. Get up. We’re running out of time.”

There was no way Sara was going to jump off that cliff and let him get away with murder. She knew she risked getting shot in the back if she ran, but the odds seemed better. It was a risk she was willing to take.

She struggled to rise, leaving her weight off her right foot. A few feet away, the mangled branch of a dead juniper drew her attention. It was the size of a small bat. If she could reach it, she could use it as a weapon.

“I don’t think I can walk,” she said.