Chapter Fifteen

As Roz neared the attic, she heard the music coming from the phonograph and felt her blood run cold. It was her mother’s favorite record. The one Roz had broken into bits just the night before.

But it was playing again now on the old phonograph.

It took all of her strength to take those last few steps up the stairs to the attic. No one had believed her about the voices she’d heard or that loud thud over her head.

If only she had gone upstairs to see what the noise had been. If only she hadn’t convinced herself it was the wind. If only her mother had cried out for help.

No, she thought. Her mother wouldn’t have because she knew there was only one other person in the house that day. Roz. But her mother must have argued with Emily, Lynette, whatever her name really was. That had been the voices she’d heard. And the loud thump?

She stumbled on the last stair as she remembered turning down her stereo but she hadn’t been able to hear anything overhead because… Her heart lodged in her throat. Because her mother’s phonograph had been playing so loudly.

Just as it was now. The same song.

Drew jabbed her in the ribs with the gun.

Roz did it without thinking, without even considering the consequences. She spun around, bringing her elbow back hard. It caught Drew in the face, blood instantly spurting from his nose as he cried out and grabbed for the stair railing. Except there wasn’t any on the back stairs.

His eyes widened as he grabbed for her with the hand without the weapon. She slapped his hand away at the same moment the deafening boom of the gunshot echoed through the stairwell.

She waited for the pain in that instant as she watched Drew flail, then fall backward to tumble down the stairs as the sound of the gunshot died away. He crashed into the door at the bottom with a groan.

It took Roz a moment to realize she hadn’t been shot.

Now! Get out of here! Run!

She looked down the steps. Drew was struggling to his feet, cursing and reaching for his dropped weapon. She couldn’t get down there before he retrieved the gun. Nor could she get past him if she did.

The record stopped playing. There was a soft click. And then the needle dropped on the vinyl again.

Roz turned, knowing there was only one way out of here and that was the attic. A dark shadow filled the doorway.

“Rozalyn,” Lynette Hargrove said, the gun in her hand gleaming in the dim light. “So nice that you could make it but as always you’ve made a mess of things.”

FORD DROVE as fast as his pickup would allow him, around the corners and up the lane to the front of the Sawyer house. Drew had Rozalyn. This was the logical place to bring her given what Ford had seen of Drew’s relationship with his mother, whoever the hell she was.

The sky was black, rain drumming down in a thick dark veil. Ford figured the front door would be locked—not standing open. It was almost as if they’d been expecting him. Waiting for him.

He hoped to hell that meant Rozalyn was all right. He’d left word for the sheriff. Whatever Drew had planned for Rozalyn, it wasn’t going to work. Liam was alive. The game was over. Ford just hoped once Drew knew that—

“Rozalyn!” he hollered as he raced up the porch steps and into the house. “Rozalyn!”

He heard music. Faint, but definitely coming from upstairs somewhere. It was an old song, one he couldn’t quite place but he suspected it was the same song Rozalyn had told him about, her mother’s favorite record.

The living room and dining room French doors were open, the rooms empty at a glance. He rushed up the stairs, taking them three at a time, as he followed the sound of the music.

He’d been so obsessed with Bigfoot bones, he hadn’t thought the bones Liam had mentioned could be anything else. He’d done everything wrong, made so many mistakes. That’s all he could think about as he cried out Rozalyn’s name, not bothering to stop at the first or second-floor landings. His gut instinct told him where he’d find Rozalyn. In the attic.

The music played overhead as he clambered up the steps, no longer calling her name, afraid of what he would find. Or wouldn’t find.

The panel at the end of the third floor was open—just as he knew it would be. He ran to it and bounded up the stairs.

As he reached the top and burst into the attic, he saw the old automatic phonograph sitting on the floor by the doorway. A single 45 spun on the turntable, the needle scratching across the record, the music coming out the tinny speakers.

In that instant, the song stopped, the phonograph moaned and groaned, then a soft click and the record began to play again.

Past the phonograph, he saw Rozalyn by the widow’s walk. Only this time she wasn’t alone.

“Come on in, Mr. Lancaster,” Emily said. Except she wasn’t Emily, right? She was some woman named Lynette Hargrove. “You’re just in time.”

“I’ve got some bad news, Lynette,” Ford said as he moved into the room. He saw her react to the name. So the old broad at the hospital with the bright red hair knew what she was talking about. But that meant that Lynette was more dangerous than even he had suspected.

Lynette stood with a gun to Rozalyn’s head. Next to her, Drew pressed a blood-soaked handkerchief to his nose with one hand and held a gun in the other. The barrel was pointed at the floor and he seemed distracted by his injuries, including a nasty gash on his forehead. Had Rozalyn given that to him? Drew looked as if he’d taken a bad fall. That was his girl, he thought with pride. Off to the right behind the couch, the young blond Suzanne was sprawled in a pool of her own blood, a bullet hole between her eyes, her sightless blue eyes staring up at the attic ceiling.

Ford hoped to God that Roz hadn’t seen her, hadn’t completely realized yet just what her stepmother was capable of.

“We already know the news,” Lynette said over the sound of the phonograph playing next to him. “Liam is dead. Such a pity.”

“Wrong,” Ford was happy to inform her. “Liam is alive and conscious. In fact, he is talking to the sheriff at this very moment.” A slight exaggeration. “And he’s not the only one talking. Your boyfriend, Mark, Dr. Harris? He’s talking as well.”

Lynette turned the color of her bottle-blond hair. “That’s a lie.” The record stopped. The room was suddenly deathly quiet. Then the song began again.

“I stopped Dr. Harris from killing him.” Ford’s gaze went to Rozalyn. He nodded and smiled. “Your dad’s fine. Conscious. He’s tough. Like you.” Ford looked into Rozalyn’s eyes and liked what he saw. Anger in her gaze and a steeliness to her backbone that told him she was ready to kick butt if she only got the chance. He hoped to give them both the chance.

“Right now, Liam is telling the sheriff everything—including about the bones.” Ford knew he really was clutching at straws now. For a moment he thought he might have made a mistake. All Liam had said was something about finding bones. But how did that tie in with this woman and her beyond dysfunctional family?

ROZ HAD NEVER been so happy—or so upset—to see anyone in her life. But having Ford here only made her more determined that they would get out of this alive. Ford had saved Liam. Her father was alive!

“Lynette killed and buried Dr. Morrow in our garden,” she said, wondering how much Ford actually knew. From the look of gratitude she witnessed in his expression, not much. She filled Ford in about Lynette Hargrove and the stolen drugs. “My father must have found the bones.”

“What was Dr. Morrow going to do? Have you arrested for stealing drugs?” Ford asked.

“Dr. Morrow had stopped by to see my mother that day. She and the doctor had become friends. He confided in her that he’d caught Lynette stealing drugs. He was a kind, caring man. He would have hated to have Lynette arrested because she was the single mother of a son. Lynette must have followed him when he left. She might have gotten away with it except my mother saw her from the attic window.”

Roz saw the shocked look on Ford’s face. “She didn’t commit suicide.” It was little consolation.

“That must be a relief to you,” Lynette said. “Unfortunately, the two of you are the only people who know the truth. Everyone will think you couldn’t live with your mother’s suicide, Rozalyn, and took your own life. Sadly, your new boyfriend tried to save you. A terrible mistake on his part.”

“Lynette, the sheriff knows. You can’t get away with this,” Ford said. “Killing more people isn’t going to save you. And Drew, if I were you, I’d be hightailing it out of here. You don’t have to take the rap for your mother anymore.”

Drew looked up from the blood-soaked handkerchief in his hand for a moment, then touched the wide open gash on his forehead, grimacing, too involved in his own pain now to even seem to realize what was happening.

Lynette shook her head as if amused by Ford’s tactics. “Drew is my son. He is all I have. He would never leave me. We will disappear again. I am very good at it and I have enough of Liam’s money socked away. I will do just fine until I find another fool to charm into marriage. I really have had the worst luck with husbands dying on me.”

Another fool? Is that all Liam Sawyer was to her? Roz felt her face flame in anger. Ford must have seen it. He gave her a slight nod, then he stepped to the phonograph and kicked it hard.

The needle scratched loudly across the record. The plug jerked from the wall. The phonograph skidded loudly across the hardwood floor like a missile aimed right at Lynette.

It happened in a heartbeat. Lynette jumped back to avoid the phonograph flying toward her ankles. Roz saw her chance. She turned and grabbed the woman’s wrist holding the gun and jerked her toward the open window of the widow’s walk at the same time Roz bent down.

Drew, seeing what was happening, reached for his mother as Lynette began to fall over Roz toward the narrow widow’s walk—and the four-story drop past the railing.

But Ford had already launched himself across the room, hitting Drew hard, chest-high. Drew’s weapon clattered to the floor but his momentum drove him into his mother. It was just enough to propel Lynette into the widow’s walk railing with Drew right behind her. Off balance, she hit the railing and would have gone over right then if she hadn’t grabbed her son Drew’s arm.

Roz got to her feet, turning in time to see both of their faces, Lynette’s caught in a horrible grimace as she fought to save herself—even at the expense of her son. Drew’s expression was one of realization. If his mother didn’t let go, they would both go over the railing. Or with luck, his mother would be able to pull him over past her and save herself.

In that instant, Drew could either free himself of his mother—or take the brunt of the impact.

Lynette let go as Drew hit the top of the railing next to her. Roz heard the wood crack. Nothing could save him. He must have known that. His mother had regained her balance against a portion of the unbroken lower widow’s walk railing. Relief washed over her expression and resignation as she watched her son start to go over the railing.

Roz watched in horror. To the end Drew had protected his mother.

At the very last minute, Drew grabbed his mother’s sleeve. Roz saw the smile on his face and heard Lynette scream as the two plummeted over the side and dropped out of sight. Then Lynette’s screams stopped with an abrupt silence that shook Roz to her core.

She turned to bury her face in Ford’s shirt as he pulled her in his arms.