apart, slowly, thread by thread, yet she couldn’t seem to pull them all back into place.
“I’m still here.” She kept her voice calm and even. “I’ll wire you more money in the morning. I warn you, Pike, I’m tired of paying for nothing. I want results, positive results. Soon,” she added, then clicked off the phone and dropped it on the French directoire reading table that sat to one side of the windows.
All of her senses screamed it was a matter of time before the police closed in on her. Meredith was her sister, her twin. If she’d died years ago a homeless vagrant like the P.I. had tried to convince her, Patsy would feel it. Bitter regret flooded over her. If only she had gone through with her initial plan and killed Meredith on that long-ago day when she’d run her sister’s car off the road and assumed her identity. If only seeing the mirror image of herself after so long hadn’t stirred some emotion deep inside her.
Instead, when Meredith came to and Patsy realized a blow to her head during the accident had left her with amnesia, she’d dumped her twin on the grounds of the clinic where Patsy had finished the twenty-five year sentence she’d served for murder. Where the hell had Meredith gone after she’d left the clinic? Patsy wondered for the thousandth time. And how long would it be before Emily, who had been in the car with Meredith on that fateful day remembered what she’d witnessed?
Emily had been a child then. Now, she was a woman whose nightmares about seeing her “two mommies” right after the accident had intensified over the years. Months ago, Patsy had heard Emily sobbing for her real mother during a nightmare. Patsy had jolted into action, knowing it was inevitable Emily would soon realize the truth of what she’d seen.
And eventually share that truth with the police. As far as Patsy was concerned, that nightmare had sealed Emily’s fate.
Patsy dragged in a shaky breath. All Thad Law had to do to discover her deception was run her fingerprints. He would then know she wasn’t Meredith, but the twin sister who’d served time for murdering the man who’d fathered—and sold—their daughter, Jewel. And that, for the past ten years, Patsy Portman had deceived the entire Colton clan.
Patsy suspected the clout carried by the Colton name was why Law had yet to request her fingerprints. He had to know she wouldn’t have consented willingly to being fingerprinted. And it was doubtful any judge in the state would force her to do so. Still, Law wasn’t the type of cop who gave up.
With unsteady hands, she snatched the gold pill case off the table beside her, popped open the lid and scooped up two Valium. She lifted a crystal tumbler full of vodka, and washed down the Valium with one deep swallow. She’d been a fool for not killing both Meredith and Emily that day, Patsy chided herself viciously, slamming the pill case back on the table. If she had, maybe she wouldn’t now feel the sickening sensation that they were both getting closer. So close she could almost feel them breathing down her neck.
More money, she thought, fighting back a wave of panic. She needed more money in case she had to leave Prosperino in a hurry. She couldn’t support Joe, Jr. and Teddy by herself.
Her eyes narrowed as her thoughts focused on Jackson Colton. He’d been so damn cool and forthright when he’d confronted her about blackmailing his father. Even as Jackson assured her he would go to the police if her extortion didn’t end, she had seen a flash of regret in his eyes. It was as if he couldn’t believe his Aunt Meredith had stooped so low.
Meredith, who had refused to cover for her own sister when Patsy had killed Jewel’s father in a fit of rage. Meredith, who’d been too good to lie to the cops. Instead, she’d let her twin rot in prison for twenty-five years.
Patsy wrapped her arms around her waist, hugging the silk robe closer to her flesh. She would show Jackson Colton just how low she could stoop when she went after what was owed her. His father, Graham, had sniffed around her for years trying to bed her before she’d given him what he wanted. Now she intended to see that he continued to pay her the money he’d agreed to.
She had no doubt that, with his son cooling his heels in prison, Graham would continue making the payments she’d demanded. He would most likely do anything to keep her from telling Joe that his brother had sired Teddy. After all, the two million Graham had agreed to pay for her silence was peanuts compared to what he would lose if Joe wrote him out of his will.
“Evidence,” she said, her voice a whisper on the still, night air. The evidence she’d already collected and sent anonymously to Thad Law had clearly caused Jackson some bad moments this afternoon.
She intended to cause him a lot more.
Gone momentarily was the feeling of impending doom that had dogged her for months. Having a good, solid plan—along with the Valium and alcohol that had just begun creeping into her system—calmed her nerves.
She smiled as she pictured the scene earlier in the study when Joe stabbed the air with his finger while he pronounced, “Like the gun the bastard used to take those shots at me. Find that, and you’ve got some real proof.”
“No problem,” Patsy murmured.
She had the proof. It was a matter of time before she could deliver it to the police.
Then she would have Jackson out of her way and his father’s money would start flowing back in.
Four
The May morning was bright and clear, with the hills sporting color so bold and vivid that Cheyenne had shoved on her sunglasses the instant she walked out of her house. Now she stood in the center of the small archery range near a rushing stream that cut a jagged path across Hopechest Ranch.
“Stance is everything,” she reminded the tall skinny-as-a-rail teenager standing a yard away. At her side was a high table fashioned out of native stone on which she’d laid the bows and the quiver filled with arrows that she’d picked up from the counseling center on her way to the range.
“Yeah, stance.” Johnny Collins gave her an intense look across his shoulder. Repositioning his right foot a half inch, he raised a bow formed out of a curve of polished hickory. Dressed in faded jeans, a white T-shirt and ball cap swiveled backward to keep his dark shaggy hair out of his eyes, Johnny was beginning his second month of lessons.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.
