Читать книгу The Hot Ladies Murder Club - Ann Major - Страница 12

The sun was streaming through the trees, making shadows dance across his target’s dark, carved face as teachers streamed out of the building on all sides of him and the little girl.

Mothers were double-parked in their cars, and the air reeked with exhaust fumes.

Damn.

One minute he had him in the scope and the next he was blinking at a bright disk of white glare.

Campbell’s Porsche was parked directly in front of the school. A few students loitered, teasing one another, laughing, talking and shoving one another. The watcher smiled grimly as the barrel of his rifle roamed from the chain-link fence surrounding the schoolyard, from the crossing guards, the teachers, to the kids carrying armloads of books.

Bang. Bang.

The watcher itched to blow them all away.

You’re not here to play games.

It took a second or two to pick Campbell out of the crowd and sight him in with the scope again. One glance at that arrogant face in his crosshairs, and the shooter’s finger twitched. Sweat beaded his brow. It was so damn hot one wondered why the dry brown grasses on the playground didn’t burst into flame.

His gut twisted as he zeroed in on his target, dead center. His eyes blurred. His temple throbbed. Soon the pain in his head was intense, electric, explosive. He had his target; he had the right weapon, a Sako .270 mounted with a Nikon scope.

He was thinking how easy it would be to take Mr. J. Campbell out. So, easy. Then a woman with black hair, fine-boned features and pale, creamy skin got in his way.

Move your cute ass, bitch.

He shifted the gun to the unsmiling woman. She seemed to be scolding a blond little girl.

The woman moved toward Campbell. She was angry. All of a sudden the watcher felt a nagging sense of familiarity.

His trigger finger shook again. No way to miss. Not at this range; not with a gun like this. With difficulty he set the gun down and wiped his sweaty cheek on his shoulder.

To do this right, he had to eliminate his emotions. With difficulty he suppressed his hatred and distrust for the legal system and for his intended victim and watched him through his scope.

Lowering the gun, the watcher stared at Campbell and the woman. They seemed like players on a stage as they stood perfectly still, their gazes fixed on each other.

Shoot him. Blow him away. What have you got to lose?

“Yes, why did it take you so long to get here?” Campbell demanded, his eyes hard and intent on Hannah’s face.

Frowning at him, Hannah turned to Georgia. “Darling, I said get in the car.”

“But…but this nice man, Mr. Campbell, is a friend of Mr. Brayfield’s.”

“I thought I told you never to talk to strangers.”

“Besides, Mummy…er…Mommy, you were late. And he isn’t a stranger. He gave a speech to our school. He’s a friend of the principal.”

Campbell smiled at her. Hannah’s stomach writhed.

“I have something to say to our friend, then,” Hannah muttered through her teeth.

“Mummy—”

“Georgia!”

Now, for the first time, Hannah wished Georgia was an easy child.

“Please, Georgia…”

Georgia recognized that low tone in her mother’s voice that meant business and hastily hopped into the Mercedes.

Hannah strode up to him and put both hands squarely on her hips. “I asked you not to follow me.”

He shrugged. “I didn’t. I took a shortcut.”

“Stay away from my little girl. Stay away from me.”

“You were scared in the parking lot…hysterical.”

As though you care!

“I was not!” Her voice was so shrill two young teachers turned to stare. Campbell’s sable hair glinted in the sunlight as he smiled at them. Annoyed even more, Hannah flushed when the women smiled back.

“Keep your voice down,” he advised. “And for the record, I was worried about you.”

“Why don’t I believe you.”

He forced another of those broad white smiles, which he no doubt knew made him ten times more handsome.

“You won’t tell me who you really are, or what you’re afraid of,” he said in a mild tone. “So, on a hunch, I got here as fast as I could…just in case…you were being followed and your daughter was at risk.”

“You are not, let me repeat, not a Good Samaritan. You keep a string of pneumatic blondes on the—”

His face darkened. “I never heard that word before.”

She paled. “I do not believe you have even one drop of decency in your blood.”

“I think you’re running scared…which makes you vulnerable—”

“What would it take to get you out of my life?” she whispered.

“You could settle with the O’Connors.”

“Never in a million years.”

“You’re going to regret that decision,” he said.

“No, you’re going to regret getting high-handed with me.”

“If you go to trial, there’s a chance some juror might find your face familiar, too. His memory might prove better than mine.” She trembled when he looked directly into her eyes. “Who are you? Why did you dye your hair? Who the hell are you running from?”

She felt faint. His face blurred. She couldn’t endure another moment of this. “Nobody.”

“Mrs. Smith?” He smiled. “Like I said, you’re one lousy liar.” His expression was intense. “You’re from the UK.”

Somehow she found her voice. “What?”

“Your daughter has the accent. You can hide it. She can’t.”

Hannah felt light-headed as he slid a brown hand into his hip pocket and took out his wallet.

Her mother and grandmother were both Americans. So was Georgia’s real father. Hannah was good at accents and was careful about vocabulary. How difficult was it to change lift to elevator or bonnet to hood or loo to rest room?

Quickly, he handed her his card. “Call me if you change your mind about settling.”

Mute with too many out-of-control emotions, all she could do was glare at him.

“And something else you might want to consider—if you settle, I’ll make sure nothing about the case makes the papers.” His uncanny black gaze focused on her lips.

“The papers?”

“You must be new here. Big settlements are news. And if this case makes the papers here, the news just might reach London.”

She winced, remembering too well what it was like to live in the blinding glare of paparazzi.

“Mommy!” Georgia began honking the horn.

“Who the hell are you running from?” he repeated softly.

“At the moment—you.”

“I’ve seen your face somewhere. I’ve got a detective doing research.…”

“You what…”

“You heard me. It’s in your best interest to settle—fast.”

She blanched. “Stay away from me and my little girl or you’ll be sorry.”

“Is that a threat, Mrs. Smith?”

“Absolutely.”

He laughed. She threw herself inside her car, slammed the door, jammed her fists down onto the door locks.

He leaned down. Because she was curious, she lowered her window.

“I’d like to follow you home. That tire might—”

“Not your problem.”

“I could be held liable since I fixed—”

“Good—then I’ll get to sue you!”

“I’d settle in a heartbeat.” The bright afternoon sun slanted into the garage and made a golden aura around his black head and broad shoulders. He was handsome, but he’d made her so angry she was shaking.

“Move, before I back over your toes.”

She turned around to make sure Georgia had her seat belt on. Then crossing herself, she stomped on her accelerator so hard, thick black fumes plumed out of her tailpipe, as she sped away.

Georgia and she drove in silence for a while.

Settle? Hannah was so upset, she forgot her fear. I’ll be damned before I make one more bargain with the devil.

Georgia’s clear, piping voice from the back seat suddenly broke into Hannah’s thoughts. “Mummy, me hungwee.”

Georgia had begun reverting to baby talk when they’d moved to Texas.

“Mommy, remember? And no baby talk, darling.”

The Big Burger sign winked invitingly from the next corner.

“I said me hungwee.”

Hannah’s heart softened. Because she felt guilty for having dragged Georgia halfway around the world, she pulled into Big Burger way too often.

With a show of determination she kept driving. “Remember, darling, last night, how we made that vow—no more burgers, that we’d try that new salad bar on the island, the one Taz likes.…” Taz was their next-door neighbor. They were supposed to go to dinner with Taz tonight.

Hannah could see Georgia’s head whip around in the rearview mirror when they passed the Big Burger sign.

“I want a big burger and double fries. But…but after tonight…after tonight…” Her coaxing voice was sly. “Then I’ll promise…to eat with Taz.”

“Darling—Mommy said no.”

It was a word she’d said numerous times that day.

Not wanting to alarm Hannah Smith, the watcher held back, keeping her ancient Mercedes barely in sight until she headed onto the causeway that went out to the offshore island where she lived. Soon lines of orange barrels and flashing lights narrowed the road to two lanes. Traffic soon slowed to a slug’s pace.

Concrete walls hemmed her in. On one side of the roadway lapped the gray waters of the Laguna Madre. The bay was to the left. Extra-tall telephone poles marched beside the causeway toward the intercoastal canal. The tide was so low, clusters of white pelicans walked about in the water wade-fishing. The exposed mudflats and oyster reefs made the air reek with the stench of rotting sea vegetation.

When she crossed the bridge over the intercoastal canal, his bloodshot eyes lifted to his rearview mirror. That same white car that had been behind him since he’d left Campbell’s parking garage was still there.

The big Harley roared onto the causeway. A few miles later, the Mercedes made a quick left onto Mustang Island. So did he. So did the car behind him, even though the light had turned red.

The big Harley spun on its side and made the turn, too.

What the hell is this—a lousy parade?

He followed her ten miles through a moonscape of white dunes to Port Aransas, where she made a right turn on one of the roads that led to the beach.

He glanced into his rearview mirror. The white car was still behind him.

And so was the Harley.

What the hell was going on?