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She’d needed another push. Literally.
And Eunice had only been too glad to give it to her. It had been too easy to entice the pathetic woman onto the veranda.
“Mama,” Eunice said now, in the same little girl’s voice she’d used to lure her nemesis onto the balcony. “Mama.” Kat had been so disoriented, she’d never realized the trap until it was too late and then her eyes had widened in terror and surprise just before Eunice sprang and pushed her over the edge.
Eunice had thought she’d gotten away with murder.
Kat’s death had been written off as suicide due to depression and an unfortunate overdose.
But someone had known the truth, Eunice deduced as she picked up the vials and hypodermic needle she wanted and closed the cabinet door. The mirror slammed into place and she was suddenly staring into her own haunted eyes.
Yes, she’d wanted Kat dead.
But she’d had to live with the guilt.
And now, she suspected, someone else had known she was a murderer and was hoping she’d take the fall for Ginny Slade.
Who?
If not one of her own children, which she couldn’t accept, what about Anthony or someone from the Polidori clan? Maybe this was payback for Ginny letting them take the heat for London’s disappearance…no…
She frowned, deep creases showing between her eyebrows and around her lips. There was no time for speculation. She still had to deal with Adria—the one woman standing between Witt’s fortune and her children. If she wouldn’t scare away, then she had to die.
Even though Zach would try to intervene.
Too bad.
Eunice wasn’t afraid of dying herself, but, by God, her children were going to get the legacy and inheritance that was rightfully theirs.
Even if Eunice had to commit murder again.
Even if she wouldn’t get away with it this time.
Even if Zach tried to stop her.
One way or another, London Danvers was going to die.
It wasn’t easy, but Adria and Zach managed to avoid and outrun the press even though the news was out: Adria Nash was London Danvers. The newspapers, radio and television stations had already aired the story all along the West Coast and by the time Zach and Adria arrived in Portland, the media had laid siege to the airport, the Hotel Danvers, Jason’s house and even the ranch outside of Bend.
Zach had been cool, taken her hand and pulled her through the throng or reporters and cameramen at Portland International. She’d ducked into his Jeep and managed to avoid making a statement of any kind. If any reporter had followed them into the city, Zach had managed to lose them.
Sooner or later she would be forced to face them, Adria thought as the Jeep rocketed down I–84, headed into the heart of the city.
“You’d think they’d give me a minute to breathe,” she grumbled, glancing in the side-view mirror and checking out the traffic trailing behind them.
“Oh, yeah, right.” He slid her a glance as he merged into a lane for the freeway heading south. “You asked for it with that press conference.”
“I suppose.”
“You’d better get used to this,” Zach advised. “You are major news, darlin’ and until someone comes along who’s more newsworthy, you’re going to get more attention than a single mouse in a nest of snakes.”
“Good analogy.”
“I thought so.” He managed to slide her a hint of a smile. “Face it. For the next couple of weeks you’re going to be way more popular than anyone should be.”
“Great,” she muttered, but told herself this is what she’d wanted, to be accepted as London Danvers, to finally know the truth about her past.
He picked up his cell phone and listened to messages as he eased the Jeep onto I-5. His smile faded.
