Appalachian Peril Page 11

  “No need. Go back to sleep. I could be gone for hours.” He quickly began dressing.

  She paused, about to pull her T-shirt over her head. “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.” He grinned and drew her in for a brief, fierce kiss. “You’re safe now,” he proclaimed. “We’re shutting Lambert and the rest of his family down. It’s finally over, Beth.”

  Just that quickly. It was almost hard to take in. “Safe,” she echoed. “I like the sound of that.”

  Sammy grabbed his jacket. “Let’s celebrate when I get back. Anywhere you want to go.” He gestured at the windows. Already, lights twinkled in the gathering dusk. “The city’s finest dining and entertainment. You decide.”

  “Perfect.”

  With a quick wave, he left, and the door shut behind him, only to open a second later. “Dead bolt the lock behind me.”

  “Thought I was safe,” she said with a laugh.

  “Can’t be too careful.”

  Once a cop, always a cop. Although Beth couldn’t say she minded his attention and concern. She’d lived alone too long not to appreciate the caring behind the admonitions. Dutifully, she crossed to the door and secured the lock. Turning around, she faced the rumpled bed where they’d just made love. Should she crawl back in and catch more sleep?

  The idea had no appeal. She was too excited to go back to sleep. At the windows, she glimpsed the valet bringing around the Jeep and the slight limp in Sammy’s step where he’d had stitches. He drove off and she sighed, wishing she’d insisted on going with him. Although, what good would that do? She wasn’t a cop and they wouldn’t let her listen in on the interrogation. She’d be stuck sitting in the dismal precinct atmosphere for at least a couple of hours sipping bad coffee and munching vending machine potato chips.

  Beth sat in a turquoise-and-pink chair by the window and gazed at the view. The blue-top dome of the Polaris lounge caught her eye. Instantly, her mouth watered with the remembered taste of the peach frozen daiquiri they were famous for making. The place had its own bee garden to harvest honey for their handcrafted libations. Plus, the domed restaurant atop the Hyatt Regency rotated, offering spectacular views of Atlanta at night. Sammy might get a kick out of the fresh vegetables grown on their rooftop garden.

  Decision made, Beth called and made a reservation. If Sammy had time tomorrow, they could extend their celebration and spend the day at the Georgia Aquarium. She glanced at the time on her cell phone, noting that only twenty minutes had passed since Sammy left. She paced the room, wondering what Dorsey Lambert was telling the police. Would he rat out members of his family he’d recruited to help him? She thought of Abbie. So young to have died. The violence of the truck crash played out in her mind—the sound of it as it flipped and rolled down rocky mountain terrain and then burst into flames. In a way, the sights and sounds of the crash made her cringe as much as the exploding pipe bomb in the cabin. At least that disaster had been unexpected. They’d never seen it coming. But that icy race down the Tail of the Dragon had seemed to go on for hours and hours.

  At last she managed to rest for a while in the comfortable chair, even dozing a little as she waited for Sammy’s return. She didn’t know how long she conked out but eventually she roused, blinking her eyes fast to reorient herself.

  From the hallway, an elevator door pinged open and shut. It was a busy time of day for guests to head out for cocktails and dinner. More footsteps shuffled outside and then came to an abrupt halt by her room. Beneath the door slat, a pair of dark men’s shoes blocked the hall light. The lock jiggled. Her heart hammered, and her throat went dry.

  A drunken businessman mistaking her room for his?

  A sharp rap hammered the door. Beth didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Maybe whoever was out there would realize his mistake and just go away.

  Another loud knock. You’re safe now, Sammy had said. She’d known it was too good to be true.

  Beth grabbed her cell phone and punched in 9-1-1 with trembling fingers. If whoever was out there tried to break down the door, she’d hit the call button.

  “Beth?” a deep voice called out. “Beth, are you in there?”

  “Wh-who is it?” she asked, a hand at her throat.

  “It’s me, Aiden. Come to apologize. Let me in.”

  Aiden. A tsunami of relief swooshed through her body and her knees threatened to buckle. She grabbed onto a chair to keep from falling to the floor. Drawing a deep breath, she hurried to the door and flung it open. Aiden grinned down, holding up a bottle of merlot. “I knew you’d be at this place. Figured I’d bribe you to let me in with your favorite wine.”

  She gave a weak laugh. “You scared the hell out of me. Come on in.”

  Aiden sauntered inside and surveyed the room. “Nice digs. You always liked this place. Where’s Sammy?”

  “At the police station.” She shut the door and reset the dead bolt. “They called not thirty minutes ago saying they had Dorsey Lambert in custody. Sammy will be back before too long.”

  “They’ve got Lambert? That’s fantastic news! Let’s have a drink and toast an excellent bit of police work.”

  “You didn’t have to come bearing gifts,” she admonished, though secretly glad for the company.

  Aiden set to work, gathering two crystal glasses from the kitchenette and setting them on the table. He popped the cork and began to pour.

  “I’ll join you in a second,” she said.

  Beth scurried into the bathroom and winced at her reflection. As she suspected, the mussed hair and streaked mascara made it appear as though she’d just rolled out of bed—after being thoroughly pleasured by a lover. Which she was. But she didn’t need to parade that fact in front of her brother, because...just eww, he was her brother. Hastily, she brushed her hair and swiped at the makeup under her eyes. Much better.

  When she returned to the table, Aiden was already seated, drinking wine. He gestured to the other poured glass and she gratefully sipped. The merlot was smooth and flavorful but a bit on the dry side, with the faintest afternote of bitter. Still, it was delicious and just what she needed after the last few harrowing days. If only Sammy was here to join them, the evening would be perfect.

  “You’ve been through a hell of an ordeal, haven’t you?” Aiden’s dark brown eyes were warm with concern. “And then I heaped more trouble on you when you came to me for help. I was way out of line. I’m really sorry. Forgive me?”

  “Of course.” And she meant it. The Aiden seated across from her was her brother of old, his refreshing tenderness a quality that always helped brush over Cynthia’s sometimes cutting indifference.

  Aiden glanced at his expensive watch. “How long before Sammy returns? An hour? Two hours?”

  “Two at the most. I’m hoping he’ll be back within the hour.”

  “Heading home when he returns?”

  “Nope. Going out to celebrate. Come with us for cocktails and dinner at the Polaris.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Anything wrong?” she asked. “You seem on edge this evening.”

  “No, no. Everything’s fine. Matter of fact, I’ve got some good news, too.”

  More good news. Tonight was certainly her lucky night. Everything was nicely turning around. “Tell me.”

  Aiden raised his glass. “Drink up first.”

  Beth took another long sip. “Now what’s up?”

  “My firm’s finally in the black. We got a large civil suit settlement and several more excellent prospects lined up. Wynngate LLC is starting to attract prominent customers.”

  Beth flushed with pride that her family’s name was being honored by her stepbrother’s firm. Dad had adopted Aiden when he married Cynthia and Aiden had always aspired to follow in his footsteps. “That’s great. I’m so proud of you, Aiden. I knew you’d make a success of it.”

  When he’d first approached her six
months ago to invest in his new criminal defense law firm, she’d had a few misgivings. Particularly when she heard the office would be in a new, swanky building situated in the trendy Buckhead area of the city. “Takes money to make money,” Aiden had assured her. And spent money he had. Her brother was always wining and dining potential clients, but it looked as though the hard work was finally paying off.

  Aiden raised his glass and pointedly looked at hers. Beth obligingly took another swallow.

  “Best of all,” he continued, “I should be able to repay you—with interest—by the first of the year.”

  Beth tried not to show her relief, afraid Aiden would take it as a lack of faith in his abilities. But more than the money, she wanted their sibling relationship unencumbered by awkwardness over the loan.

  He clinked his glass with hers and they toasted his good fortune. Aiden picked up the merlot bottle and refilled her glass.

  “I’m not sure I should have another,” she protested. “My heart’s set on a peach daiquiri later.”

  “Lighten up,” he said with a laugh. “You deserve this. And I certainly don’t want to drink alone.”

  A second glass of wine never hurt anybody. Beth shrugged and took another sip from the full glass. Already, her body seemed to be floating and her head swam. With shaking hands, she carefully set the goblet on the table, oddly mesmerized by the shimmer of the crimson liquid under the lamp.

  “No more for me,” she stated with an uneasy laugh.

  “Well, you’re no fun. I bought this merlot just for you.”

  “Doesn’t mean I can drink it all in one sitting.”

  “That’s my Beth. Always were a bit of a spoilsport. Never one to party hard like me and my friends.”

  And yet, she was the one who had paid the price years ago when his friends had left her high and dry at the party when the cops arrived.

  “I thought you artsy types were supposed to have a more live-and-let-live lifestyle.”

  Was his tone faintly mocking or was the alcohol screwing with her judgment? “Those stories of wild artists are mainly a myth.”

  “So you consider yourself an artist and not a middle school teacher?”

  Again his words seemed laced with a trace of superiority. “We can’t all be hotshot lawyers and judges,” she countered.

  “You’re right. It takes a particular intellect to succeed in those fields.”

  Beth swallowed an angry retort. Aiden couldn’t help being a bit of a snob, considering he was raised by Cynthia. She rose to her feet and then quickly grabbed the table to keep from losing balance. Wine had never affected her so quickly before. Drinking on an empty stomach didn’t agree with her. “Thanks for bringing the wine, Aiden, but I think I need to take a little nap before Sammy comes back.”

  Aiden chuckled. “It’s catching up to you, huh?”

  No point denying it. “Yes.” She gestured to the door. “We’ll talk later. Congratulations again on your firm’s success.”

  “This wasn’t much of a celebration. Tell you what, let’s you and me go on over to the Polaris. Sammy can join us when he finishes business.”

  “I don’t feel like going out.”

  “You need food,” he said firmly. “How long since you’ve eaten?”

  She thought through the fog clouding her mind. “Not since a late breakfast.”

  “There you go then. The Polaris is only a few blocks away. You can walk off the effect of the drink and eat dinner. You don’t want Sammy to see you sloppy drunk, do you? What would he think?”

  “I suppose you have a point,” she said with a longing glance at the bed.

  Aiden took her arm, leading her to the door. “I’ll get a taxi. Trust me, going out to eat is just what you need.”

  With a sigh, she looked around for her purse, then spotted it on the nightstand. “Let me get my purse.”

  “No need. This is my treat.”

  “If you’re sure—”

  “Least I can do after all you’ve done for me. I couldn’t ask for a better sister. It was my lucky day when Mom married your dad.”

  Aiden unlocked the door and she stumbled into the hallway. The floor felt uneven and her stomach rumbled. “I feel sick. Maybe I better—”

  “No.” His grip on her arm seemed to tighten.

  “But—”

  Instead of slowing down to accommodate her wobbly feet, Aiden quickened his pace and they walked past the elevators.

  Beth frowned and tried to sort what was happening. “Why aren’t we getting on the elevator?”

  “We’ll take the stairs.”

  “But why?”

  “You need to walk, sis. You’re right—that wine went straight to your head. Besides, I can’t be seen with you stumbling around in public. What if I ran into an important client or a colleague?”

  Heat rose in her cheeks. “Going out was your idea.” She tried to jerk her arm free, but Aiden tightened his grip even more.

  “Don’t be so sensitive,” he chided. “I’m doing this for you, not me.”

  They reached the end of the hallway. Beth dug in her feet at the exit stairwell door. “I’ve changed my mind.”

  He tugged at her elbow, his jaw set stubbornly. “Too late for that.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Sammy entered the interrogation room, noting that it looked almost identical to the one in Elmore County. He suspected every such room at any police station looked much the same—windowless, dreary colors, cheap linoleum floors and no furniture except for a table and couple of metal chairs.

  Dorsey Lambert sat slumped in a chair, scowling at the gouged surface of the table. He didn’t raise his head when Sammy entered. A uniformed cop rose and nodded as he exited the room. “He’s all yours.”

  Sammy took a seat across from Lambert, who stubbornly refused to face him. He waited, sweating him out. A full minute rolled by before the suspect met his gaze. “Who are you supposed to be?” he demanded, evidently expecting to see someone in a cop uniform or a detective with a suit sporting a badge.

  “You don’t remember me? I chased you a good three or four blocks when you bolted from your mom’s home.”

  Recognition sparked in Lambert’s unnaturally intense blue eyes. He scrubbed at his jaw, speckled with auburn stubble. The man was skinny and, as Sammy recalled, rather on the short side. But he carried himself like a mean yard dog itching for a fight and no doubt he could probably hold his own with most men twice his size. Sammy tried to think back on the height of the pipe bomb suspect who’d run away. Could there have been a third person there that night that they didn’t know about? But Sammy couldn’t recall anything concrete about the suspect that had tossed the bomb; it had been too dark and too brief an encounter to hazard a guess on the man’s size.

  “Are you the reason I’m here?” Lambert groused, lazing back in his chair. “Whatcha want with me?”

  “You know why.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Haven’t you spoken with your mother?”

  Lambert suddenly leaned forward and practically growled. “Leave Momma and my kin outta this.”

  Interesting to note the suspect felt such loyalty. “So it’s okay for you and your family to terrorize a woman but then not man up when the law finally catches up to you?”

  “Man up? That what you call snitching on your own family? ’Cause that ain’t happening.”

  “I’m not here to debate semantics with you.” At Lambert’s blank look, he leveled him with a grim smile. “Let me put it another way. Either you cooperate, or I’ll be questioning your mother every day until you confess.”

  Lambert sprang to his feet, chest puffed out. Sammy also rose and stared him down, daring the man to strike.

  The door opened. “Need any backup?” a uniformed cop asked.

  Dorsey’s eyes darte
d nervously; he knew he was trapped.

  “That’s okay. I think we’re ready to have a civilized conversation now, aren’t we, Lambert?”

  Dorsey didn’t respond but slumped back down in his chair. Sammy also took a seat and tried a new tactic. “Two cousins of yours—Abbie Fenton and Marty Upshaw—are already dead. Do you really want more lives wasted? Let’s end this. Right here, right now.”

  Dorsey’s mouth twisted. “End it? You mean arrest me for only trying to get what’s due me.” His voice oozed with bitterness. “Ain’t that always the way, though? Rich man gets away with everything while people like me and my family are the ones who suffer.”

  Sammy picked up on his earlier statement. “What do you mean by trying to get what you’re due?”

  “Judge Wynngate was dirty. Everyone knew it. With the right amount of money, you could buy an innocent verdict or get your jail time cut in half.”

  “Why should I believe you?”

  “Why would I lie about it? I paid fifty thousand bucks and what did that bastard do for me?”

  Sammy stared back at him impassively, waiting for Lambert to continue. Dorsey slammed his hand on the table. “Nothing! He did nothing. Wynngate took my money and then gave me the maximum sentence possible. All I wanted was to get my money back. That kind of money don’t mean nothing to some rich bitch like his daughter. She should give it back to me.”

  Sammy grabbed a fistful of Lambert’s flannel shirt. “Don’t you dare call her that.” Conscious he was being watched, Sammy reluctantly let go. “Beth Wynngate has nothing to do with her father’s so-called crimes.”

  “Yeah, but she inherited his dirty money, now, didn’t she? I seen it in the papers after he died. She got nearly all of it. All I ask is that she give back what’s rightfully due me and my family. Scraping together that money was a real hardship on us. And while I was in prison, I couldn’t hold down a job and help out my momma. Without my paycheck, she lives off a measly government check that don’t cover all she needs.”

  Regular paycheck? Dorsey Lambert was a known drug dealer, not a stalwart employee earning an honest income, but Sammy let that go for now.