Double Image

“Would someone explain-” Blaine started to say.

“Quiet.”

Duncan chuckled bitterly. “She certainly had that kid jumping through hoops. But then she had us all jumping through hoops. Randolph knew what she was. Knew what her mother was. Knew what Rebecca Chance was. But he was powerless to resist, the same as I am. Even after he got so angry with Rebecca that he pushed her off that cliff in Mexico, he couldn’t get away from her spell. He had to spend years trying to find the daughter that he wasn’t even sure was his, and when he finally found her and his granddaughter, he fell into the same trap. In the name of love, he excused the terrible things they did. Melinda was happy to take his money, but she never came to see him, never made the slightest effort to delude him into thinking he was loved. Poor Randolph. Such a lonely man. He wanted the comfort of a family, but I was the only one who provided it. He finally had his will amended so that she would inherit the place he most hated, where he killed the woman he never stopped loving, even though he hated her for having manipulated him.”

Duncan’s voice was unsteady. “I have to stop. I don’t dare let her catch me with this tape recorder. I’d warn you right now in person, but what if I’m wrong? What if she hasn’t turned against me? I can’t give her up. And if I’m right to be suspicious about her? In that case, I’m dead. I’ve got nothing to lose. Make sure she doesn’t destroy you the way she did me. Get even for me, even though I deserve whatever she might do to me. I have absolutely no loyalty to her. God help me, though, how I need her.”

The tape hissed. Something made a scraping sound, possibly Duncan’s hand setting down the microphone. Then the tape became silent, although Coltrane could see it continuing to turn in the tape deck.

“Now?” Blaine asked. “Now would you explain what this is about?”

26

WHEN JENNIFER FINISHED, BLAINE LEANED BACK FROM THE documents she had spread on the desk.

“We have to take this to the police,” Coltrane said.

Blaine shook his head. “I don’t know what good it would do. These materials don’t prove anything.”

“What are you talking about?”

“A skillful defense attorney would have a case predicated on these flimsy co

“But what about all the names she used?”

“To protect her privacy. The defense would argue that she’s an unfortunate young woman who, through no fault of her own, has been plagued by men who want to dominate her. A chain of terrible consequences, for which she bears no responsibility, has forced her to keep changing her name and where she lives. You can’t prove she manipulates men into fighting over her. You can’t prove she arranges for the victors to have lethal accidents. The law deals with facts, not supposition.”

“What about Duncan’s tape?”

“The ravings of a man deranged enough to commit suicide. The defense would deny any sexual co

“But they might convince the police to look more closely into Duncan’s death. It’s clear now that he didn’t commit suicide. He was murdered.”

“Clear to you. But if Melinda Chance is as calculating as you believe she is, I think it’s highly unlikely that she left anything to incriminate herself.”

Coltrane started to say something, then gestured in frustration.

“But my personal opinion is another matter,” Blaine said. “I think this woman is dangerous. I think you should give this material to the police in the hopes that they might finally investigate her. Then I think you should run like hell.”

27

“I BOUGHT A REVOLVER AND A SHOTGUN HERE BEFORE Christmas.”

The clerk at the gun shop nodded.

“But I couldn’t take the handgun because of the five-day waiting period.”

“You’ve come to pick it up?”

“Yes – and another shotgun.”

28

JENNIFER’S FACE WAS STARK WITH DISMAY AS COLTRANE SET THE shotgun in the backseat along with the briefcase-like container that the revolver came in. “It’s happening again.”

“I know how you feel about guns,” he said. “But I don’t see another choice. It’s my fault I got into this mess. If I’d stayed away from her… You don’t deserve to be at risk. You’ve already helped a great deal. I’m going to take you home and-”

“Like hell you are.”

Coltrane blinked.

“She makes me furious,” Je

The force of her words made Coltrane study her in surprise.

“I’m furious at the way she used you,” Je

“What’s fu

“Just like old times. Did you ever argue with…”

“Her?”

“Yes.”

He shook his head.

Their laughter subsided.

“Never,” he said.

Je

“Because we disagree about some things? Hey, it’s easy not to disagree when someone’s playing a role and constantly lying the way Tash was.”

“Maybe that’s my problem. I always tell the truth,” Je

“I wouldn’t call that a problem… If I know what’s good for me, you said. I’ll tell you what’s good for me. You are.”

Je

“The way I feel right now,” Coltrane said. He couldn’t help thinking, If we’re still alive tomorrow.

29

HE HAD CHOSEN A REVOLVER BECAUSE HIS LACK OF EXPERIENCE with handguns warned him to get something simple. There wasn’t any magazine to be loaded and inserted, any slide to be pulled back, any slight possibility of jamming, characteristics of a semiautomatic pistol. With the weapon he had chosen, a Colt.357 Python, all he had to do was press a lever on the left side of the frame, tilt out a cylinder, push six rounds into its chambers, and shove the cylinder back into place. As easy as that, it was ready to use, an important consideration for someone with Coltrane’s inexperience. Granted, a semiautomatic in a similar caliber held more than twice as many rounds as the Python, but Coltrane had concluded that a weapon he didn’t feel comfortable with was almost as bad as not having a weapon at all.

He explained this to Je

“You’re going to carry that with you?”

“If we need it, it’s no use in a drawer.” Coltrane loaded the shotgun. “You remember I showed you how to use this?”

“I swore I never would.”

“That was then. What about now?”

“Yes, I remember how to use it.”

Coltrane had closed the garage before loading the weapons. Now he held the shotgun in his left hand, used his right hand to unlock the garage’s entrance into the house, and pushed the door open. Je

But it wasn’t beeping.

“No,” Coltrane said.

Je

The glowing words on the keypad chilled him: READY TO ARM.