Secret Sisters

  She had spent the last year immersing herself in that role, and she knew that she had been brilliant. She had dedicated herself to her part because she had envisioned a glorious future as the wife of one of the most powerful men in the country. From that point on, doors would open.

  But the curtain had fallen on act one of the play. It was time to cut her losses and find another role. She would not have her looks forever.

  No, she would not need the Candidate’s Wife dress. She yanked it out of the suitcase and tossed it into the little trash bin beside the dresser. The blue fabric billowed over the top of the container and spilled onto the floor.

  The good news was that there was now more room in the suitcase. She went back to the closet to ponder the issue of shoes.

  Travis watched her from the bedroom doorway. “Will you at least show up at my father’s funeral?”

  “I don’t think that will be necessary or useful.” She picked up a pair of black pumps and studied them critically. Candidate’s Wife shoes. She tossed them on top of the dress. “Under the circumstances, I’m sure it will be a small, private affair. I doubt if anyone will notice if I’m not there.”

  “The media will notice.”

  There was a raw edge in Travis’s voice. For a moment it almost sounded as if he might miss her. But this was Travis Webster. The only person he cared about was himself and his climb to the top.

  Still, the Websters could be dangerous when provoked. She had certainly learned that lesson recently. She turned toward him and managed a sad, wistful smile.

  “Of course I’ll come back for the funeral if you think it will help,” she lied. “But right now I want to be alone for a while. I need time to think.”

  “Time to find a divorce lawyer, you mean.”

  “No. Travis, I’m not leaving you, I swear it. I’m going to the lake house. You can join me there at any time. We can talk about our future when the immediate crisis is past.”

  “I do have a future, damn it. The media frenzy will die down in a few weeks if not sooner. I talked to my mother’s lawyer this morning. He’s working on a self-defense angle. He thinks he can get Louisa off entirely.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Dead serious. Keep in mind that my father evidently murdered two people some twenty years ago. When Louisa confronted him about the killings he went into a rage and tried to choke her. She shot him to protect herself.”

  Patricia thought about that. She smiled and shook her head. “It just might work.”

  “It will work,” Travis vowed.

  “The thing is, I’m not sure that will make it possible for you to run for office, at least not in the upcoming election. The public will need time to forget.”

  “So I’ll spend the next year cleaning up the mess my family made. Eventually I can make it all go away.”

  You’re crazy if you think it will all go away, she thought. But she did not say it out loud. It was clear now that every member of the Webster family was capable of murder. She might as well have married into a mafia family. She had to look after herself now. She had to escape the island and try to disappear.

  She pretended to be intrigued by the possibility that they would survive the disaster.

  “If the campaign people can manage to put the right spin on the situation—make it look like your father was the source of all the trouble—you just might be able to turn this around.”

  “That’s the plan,” Travis said.

  Everything about him seemed to get a little brighter, almost radiant. He was once again The Ideal Candidate. The charisma thing was amazing, Patricia thought. And Travis could literally turn it on and off at will. He probably would find a way to get back into politics—assuming someone didn’t kill him first. But right now her goal was to get off the damned island.

  “I believe you,” she said. “In time you will be able to get back into the game. And for the sake of the country you should do just that. We need strong leadership. But right now, it’s important that I go into seclusion. I need to get away from the stress.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

  Inspiration struck. Very deliberately she put her hand on her belly. “Because I think I’m pregnant.”

  Travis stared at her, stunned. “Are you sure?”

  “No, but it’s a real possibility. Now do you see why I need to get out of the line of media fire? I don’t want to lose our baby because of stress.”

  “A baby would go a long way toward building a new image,” Travis mused.

  “Yes, it would. The fact that I’m pregnant would also provide you with a reasonable excuse for my absence for a while.”

  He looked at her for a long time. “You want to go to the lake house?”

  “It’s always been a safe retreat for us. The media doesn’t know about it.”

  “Good idea.” Travis started to turn away and then paused. “I’ll join you there just as soon as I get things under control here. It wouldn’t hurt for both of us to disappear for a while.”

  “No,” she said.

  “I’ll send someone to help you with your luggage.”

  “Thank you.”

  She waited until he was gone before she allowed herself to take a deep breath and turn back to the packing. She had lied. There was no baby. She had taken care to make certain there wouldn’t be one, at least not until Travis had won his first big election.

  It wasn’t the first time she had lied to Travis. But he had lied to her, as well.

  The Websters were very dangerous people.

  She had to get off the island.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

  Madeline waited until she was almost certain that Daphne was asleep in the adjacent bed before she pushed the covers aside and got to her feet.

  “Going somewhere?” Daphne mumbled.

  “Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you. I can’t sleep. I’m going to go into the front room and work on some email.”

  “Give my regards to Jack.”

  “I am not heading for a secret rendezvous with Jack.”

  “Why not?”

  “Go back to sleep.”

  “Okay. Have fun.”

  Daphne turned on her side and pulled the covers up over her shoulder.

  The curtains were open, allowing the light of the desert moon into the room. Madeline pulled on her robe, stepped into her slippers, and crossed the space to the small desk. She picked up her computer and headed for the door.

  She and Daphne had been given the guest suite, a gracious bedroom with two beds and a private bath. Jack and Abe had been assigned a room at the other end of the house.

  Night-lights lit the way down a corridor to the glass-walled great room. She sat down on a low, rust-colored sofa, curled one leg under her, and cranked up the computer. The dog, Max, padded into the room and stretched out on the rug. She reached down and scratched his ears.

  And then she started searching.

  It did not take long to find the information she was looking for. None of it was new information, but tonight she considered it from a different perspective. She knew a lot more about Jack than she had a few months ago when she had looked into his past.

  The body of Victor Ingram, president and CEO of a high-tech security firm in San Jose, California, was recovered late yesterday in the waters off a popular Mexican resort town. Local authorities announced that Ingram was the victim of a diving accident. He had gone spearfishing with his friend and business partner, Jack Rayner, but the two became separated while exploring an underwater cave system.

  Ingram is survived by his wife and two children. In the wake of his death, rumors have begun circulating that the security firm Ingram co-founded with Rayner is experiencing serious financial difficulty.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

  The desert nightscape looked and felt good after
the dark, claustrophobic world of Cooper Island.

  Jack braced one foot on the bottom rail of the fence that enclosed his mother’s cactus garden and immersed himself in the night. Something inside him relaxed a little. He had been running in a state of heightened awareness since the call from Madeline that had taken him to Cooper Island. But tonight she was safe in his parents’ house and he could let down his guard, at least for a while.

  He heard the crunch of shoe leather on the gravel path that wound through the garden, but he did not turn around. He recognized his father’s stride.

  Garrett came to stand beside him. He, too, propped one foot on the low rail and looked out at the sparkling lights of the houses scattered across the valley.

  “Thought I heard you come out here,” Garrett said. “Still worried about your clients?”

  “They’re safe here.”

  “That’s a fact. We’ve got damn good security, thanks to that overpaid expert we hired.”

  “The overpaid expert may have been a bit obsessive about it, but tonight he’s glad you bought the upgraded package.”

  “We’ve also got a dog.”

  “A loud, barking dog beats high-tech every time.”

  “Cheaper, too.” Garrett leaned on the top rail. “So what’s worrying you?”

  “A few loose ends. I can monitor most of them online, and my FBI connection said he’d keep me posted. But if one of the Websters goes off the grid, I need to know about it.”

  “Sounds like that Webster bunch is one messed-up family. Probably raised on rattlesnake venom.”

  “Something like that.”

  “Not that many of ’em left from the sound of it, though,” Garrett said. “Let’s see, one son killed in a boat explosion, the father shot by his wife, who is now under arrest—”

  “Louisa Webster is out on bail. Claims it was self-defense. Joe says she’s still on the island.”

  “Does she worry you?”

  “You bet. She’s already proven that she’s willing to pick up a gun and kill someone.”

  “Which brings us to the one remaining son and his wife,” Garrett concluded.

  “Joe texted me a couple of hours ago letting me know that Travis’s wife, Patricia, gave a statement to the local cops saying she had no idea her mother-in-law planned to shoot her father-in-law. Then she packed up and left the island on the late-afternoon ferry.”

  “Given what’s been going on, I’d think any smart woman in her position would want to get out of town.”

  “It does appear that Patricia Webster is not going to play the part of the loyal politician’s wife standing by her man.”

  “So that leaves Travis Webster. He’s the one who worries you?”

  “Never quite got a handle on him,” Jack said. “And, yeah, that worries me.”

  Garrett snorted. “You did say he had what it takes to be a successful politician.”

  “True. They were calling him the ideal candidate, but now his world has fallen apart around him. Hard to know how a person will react when that happens.”

  “But your FBI pal is keeping an eye on him, right?”

  “Definitely. Joe is extremely interested in Travis because he and his team would really like to know what happened to the millions Egan Webster made by defrauding investors in recent years. The money is probably stashed offshore, but there’s always a chance Travis can lead them to it. If the funds are recovered, it would be a major coup for Joe’s team.”

  “You think Travis knew his old man’s secrets?”

  “What I think,” Jack said, “is that Travis is a little tougher, a little smarter, and maybe even a little more ruthless than Egan Webster realized.”

  “Any evidence that he murdered a few people the way his old man did?”

  “No hard evidence,” Jack said. “But it was Travis’s decision to run for office that seems to have triggered the entire chain of events. It started with the murder of Edith Chase.”

  “You’re sure the hotel fire was murder?”

  “Given all that’s happened, her death is just too damn coincidental.”

  “They say coincidence happens.”

  “I’ve heard that.”

  “So you’re thinking that Travis is a little more dangerous than some people think.”

  “Right.”

  Garrett exhaled deeply. “Egan Webster wouldn’t be the first man to underestimate his own son.”

  Jack nodded, but he did not speak.

  The night settled more heavily around them.

  “Charlotte likes your Madeline,” Garrett said after a while. “So do I.”

  Jack focused on the glowing jewels scattered across the valley. “I like her, too. A lot. But she’s not my Madeline.”

  “You said Travis Webster’s world is falling apart and that makes him hard to predict.”

  “So?”

  “So your world fell apart two years ago. But you’re not unpredictable like Webster. We all knew you’d get back on your feet. But in the process you made some tough rules for yourself, thinking they would keep you from screwing up again.”

  “I got blindsided two years ago.”

  “It happens to everyone sooner or later,” Garrett said. “Okay, maybe not quite as spectacularly as it happened to you, but still, it happens. And you won’t be able to protect yourself with a lot of hard rules.”

  “What are you trying to say?”

  “Might be time to reconsider those rules of yours. Cut yourself some slack, son.”

  “You make it sound simple.”

  “It is simple. You made those rules two years ago. That means you’re the only one who can break them.”

  Garrett turned and walked back through the garden and into the house.

  Once again Jack was alone in the night.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

  She heard the muffled sound of a door opening and closing somewhere inside the big house. It was the second time she had caught the faint noise in the past few minutes. Two people had gone outside into the desert night. Both had returned. One had retreated to the far end of the house. The other one was coming down the hall toward her. She knew from his stride that it was Jack.

  The wall of windows in the great room where she sat looked out over a portion of the cactus garden. She realized that he had probably noticed the glow of the computer screen when he had started back into the house.

  Max stirred, stretched, and got to his feet.

  She sensed Jack’s presence even as Max trotted across the room to greet him. The little frisson of awareness that shivered through her was probably nothing more than her body’s response to a subtle shift in the shadows or maybe a faint change in the currents of air that drifted through the room. But it would always be like this, she realized. She would always know when he was nearby. In the past several days she had somehow become tuned to him.

  “Working late?” he asked.

  She turned her head to look at him. He watched her from the entrance of the big room. He was dressed in what she had come to think of as his uniform: dark trousers, a black crew-neck T-shirt, and low boots.

  Automatically she started to blank the screen of the computer. But her fingers paused over the keyboard.

  “No,” she said. “My curiosity got the better of me.”

  She set the computer on the end table and turned the device around so that he could see the screen. She knew his eyesight was excellent, but she was pretty sure that even he could not read the small print on the computer from where he stood.

  The familiar, icy stillness came over him. Then, very deliberately, he walked closer. He stopped when he was a short distance away from the computer.

  “Your grandmother knew the facts when she hired me,” he said without inflection. “You knew them, too.”

  “Yes. But tonight I
got curious.”

  “About what?”

  “Why you didn’t tell anyone the whole truth.” She indicated the news account on the screen. “Something happened in that underwater cave, but I don’t think it was an accident.”

  Jack looked at her for a long time. “How did you figure it out?”

  “Because I know you, Jack.”

  “Think so?”

  She felt herself turning red. This was his personal business. She had no right to push for answers. She took a deep breath and uncoiled from the sofa. When she was on her feet, she faced him.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have searched for the details.”

  He moved one hand slightly toward the glowing screen. “It’s all public knowledge. The high-tech-industry media covered it for days.”

  “I know. But still, I shouldn’t have allowed my curiosity to push me into prying into your personal history. I had no right.”

  “It doesn’t matter. Like I said, it’s all a matter of public record.”

  “Maybe it shouldn’t matter, but it does.”

  “Why?”

  “We both know why,” she said. “You let what happened two years ago change your whole future. It doesn’t have to be that way. Not your future with me, at any rate.”

  “Where are you going with this?”

  Anger flashed through her, overriding her guilt.

  “You’re the one who says there’s always a pattern. Well, I can’t find the pattern in your story. Everything fell apart for no obvious reason. Your company financials were sound but you let everyone think your security firm was in deep trouble. You deliberately closed down the business rather than sell it or run it by yourself. I can think of only one reason why you would do that. You’re trying to protect someone.”

  Jack made a harsh sound deep in his throat. “You think you’ve figured it out.”

  “It’s not that hard to figure out.” She spread her hands wide. “You screwed up. You made a mistake, didn’t you?”