Storm Warning Read online

  breath, Autumn started to uncap the plastic capsule she used to protect her undeveloped film. A movement on the path behind her had her stuffing the roll back into her pocket and whirling around.

  Could Lucas have searched the darkroom so quickly? What would he do now that he knew she had lied to him? Foolishly, Autumn wanted to run again. Instead, she straightened and waited. The final encounter would have to come sooner or later.

  Autumn’s relief when she saw Steve approaching quickly became irritation. She wanted to be alone, not to make small talk and useless conversation while the film burned in her pocket.

  “Hi!” Steve’s lightning smile did nothing to decrease her annoyance, but Autumn pasted on one of her own. If she were going to be playing a game for the rest of her life, she might as well start now.

  “Hello. Taking Jacques up on the hiking?” God, how normal and shallow her voice sounded! Was she going to be able to live like this?

  “Yeah. I see you needed to get away from the inn, too.” Taking a deep breath of the freshened air, he flexed his shoulders. “Lord, it feels good to be outside again.”

  “I know what you mean.” Autumn eased the tension from her own shoulders. This was a reprieve, she told herself. Accept it. When it’s over, nothing’s ever going to be the same again.

  “And Jacques is right,” Steve went on, staring out through the thin leaves. “The mountains are beautiful. It reminds you that life goes on.”

  “I suppose we all need to remember that now.” Unconsciously, Autumn dipped her hand in her pocket.

  “Your hair glows in the sunlight.” Steve caught at the ends and moved them between his fingertips. Autumn saw, with some alarm, that warmth had crept into his eyes. A romantic interlude was more than she could handle.

  “People often seem to think more about my hair than me.” She smiled and kept her voice light. “Sometimes I’m tempted to hack it off.”

  “Oh no.” He took a more generous handful. “It’s very special, very unique.” His eyes lifted to hers. “And I’ve been thinking quite a lot about you the last few days. You’re very special, too.”

  “Steve . . .” Autumn turned and would have walked on, but his hand was still in her hair.

  “I want you, Autumn.”

  The words, so gentle, almost humble, nearly broke her heart. She turned back with apology in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Steve. I really am.”

  “Don’t be sorry.” He lowered his head to brush her lips. “If you let me, I could make you happy.”

  “Steve, please.” Autumn lifted her hands to his chest. If only he were Lucas, she thought as she stared up at him. If only it were Lucas looking at me like this. “I can’t.”

  He let out a long breath, but didn’t release her. “McLean? Autumn, he only makes you unhappy. Why won’t you let go?”

  “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve asked myself the same question.” She sighed, and he watched the sun shoot into her eyes. “I don’t have the answer—except that I love him.”

  “Yes, it shows.” Frowning, he brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. “I’d hoped you’d be able to get over him, but I don’t suppose you will.”

  “No, I don’t suppose I will. I’ve given up trying.”

  “Now I’m sorry, Autumn. It makes things difficult.”

  Autumn dropped her eyes to stare at the ground. She didn’t want pity. “Steve, I appreciate it, but I really need to be alone.”

  “I want the film, Autumn.”

  Astonished, she jerked her head up. Without consciously making the step, she aligned herself with Lucas. “Film? I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Oh yes, I’m afraid you do.” He was still speaking gently, one hand stroking her hair. “The pictures you took of the lake the morning Helen and I were down there. I have to have them.”

  “You?” For a moment, the implication eluded her. “You and Helen?” Confusion turned into shock. She could only stare at him.

  “We were having quite a row that morning. You see, she had decided she wanted a lump-sum payment from me. Her other sources were drying up fast. Julia wouldn’t give her a penny, just laughed at her. Helen was furious about that.” His face changed with a grim smile. “Jacques had finished with her, too. She never had anything worthwhile on Lucas in the first place. She counted on intimidating him. Instead, he told her to go to hell and threatened to press charges. That threw her off balance for a while. She must have realized Jane was on the edge. So . . . she concentrated on me.”

  He had been staring off into the distance as he spoke. Now, his attention came back to Autumn. The first hint of anger swept into his eyes. “She wanted two hundred and fifty thousand dollars in two weeks. A quarter of a million, or she’d hand over the information she had on me to my father.”

  “But you said what she knew wasn’t important.” Autumn let her eyes dart past his for a moment. The path behind them was empty. She was alone.

  “She knew a bit more than I told you.” Steve gave her an apologetic smile. “I could hardly tell you everything then. I’ve covered my tracks well enough now so that I don’t think the police will ever know. It was actually a matter of extortion.”

  “Extortion?” The hand on her hair was becoming more terrifying with each passing moment. Keep him talking, she told herself frantically. Keep him talking and someone will come.

  “Borrowing, really. The money will be mine sooner or later.” He shrugged it off. “I just took some a little early. Unfortunately, my father wouldn’t see it that way. I told you, remember? He’s a tough man. He wouldn’t think twice about booting me out the door and cutting off my income. I can’t have that, Autumn.” He flashed her a smile. “I have very expensive tastes.”

  “So you killed her.” Autumn said it flatly. She was finished with horror.

  “I didn’t have a choice. I couldn’t possibly get my hands on that much cash in two weeks.” He said it so calmly, Autumn could almost see the rationale behind it. “I nearly killed her that morning down by the lake. She just wouldn’t listen to me. I lost my temper and hit her. Knocked her cold. When I saw her lying there on the ground, I realized how much I wanted her dead.”

  Autumn didn’t interrupt. She could see he was far from finished. Let him talk it out, she ordered herself, controlling the urge to break from him and ran. Someone’s going to come.

  “I bent over her,” he continued. “My hands were almost around her throat when I saw you standing up on the ridge. I knew it was you because the sun was shining on your hair. I didn’t think you could recognize me from that distance, but I had to be sure. Of course, I found out later that you weren’t paying attention to us at all.”

  “No, I barely noticed.” Her knees were starting to shake. He was telling her too much. Far too much.

  “I left Helen and circled around, thinking to intercept you. Lucas got to you first. Quite a touching little scene.”

  “You watched us?” She felt a stir of anger edge through the fear.

  “You were too involved in each other to notice.” He smiled again. “In any case, that’s when I learned you’d been taking pictures. I had to get rid of that film; it was too chancy. I hated to hurt you, Autumn. I found you very attractive right from the first.”

  A rabbit darted down the path, veering off and bounding into the woods. She heard the call of a quail, faint with distance. The simple, natural texture of her surroundings gave his words a sense of unreality. “The darkroom.”

  “Yes. I was glad the blow with the door knocked you out. I didn’t want to have to hit you with the flashlight. I didn’t see your camera, but found a roll of film. I was so certain I had things taken care of. You can imagine how I felt when you said you’d lost two rolls, and that they were shots of your trip down from New York. I didn’t know how the other roll had been ruined.”

  “Lucas. Lucas turned on the lights when he found me.” Suddenly, through the horror came a bright flash of realization: It hadn’t been Lucas. He’d done nothi
ng but simply be who he was. She felt overwhelming relief at his innocence, then guilt at ever having believed what she had of him. “Lucas,” she said again, almost giddy with the onslaught of sensations.

  “Well, it hardly matters now,” Steve said practically. Autumn snapped back. She had to keep alert, had to keep a step ahead of him. “I knew if I just took the film from your camera, you’d begin to wonder. You might start thinking too closely about the pictures you’d taken. I hated doing that to your things, breaking your camera. I know it was important to you.”

  “I have another at home.” It was a weak attempt to sound unconcerned. Steve only smiled.

  “I went to Helen’s room right after I’d finished with yours. I knew I was going to have to kill her. She stood there pointing to the bruise and telling me it was going to cost me another hundred thousand. I didn’t know what I was going to do . . . I thought I was going to strangle her. Then I saw the scissors. That was better—anyone could have used scissors. Even little Jane. I stopped thinking when I picked them up until it was over.”

  He shuddered, and Autumn thought, Run! Run now! But his hand tightened on her hair. “I’ve never been through anything like that. It was terrible. I almost folded. I knew I had to think, had to be careful, or I’d lose everything. Staying in that room was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I wiped the handles of the scissors clean and tore up my shirt. Her blood was on it. I flushed the pieces down the toilet. When I got back to my room, I showered and went to bed. I remember being surprised that the whole thing took less than twenty minutes. It seemed like years.”

  “It must have been dreadful for you,” Autumn murmured, but he was oblivious to the edge in her voice.

  “Yes, but it was all working out. No one could prove where they were when Helen was killed. The storm—the phones, the power—that was all a bonus. Every one of us had a reason to want Helen out of the way. I really think Julia and I will be the least likely suspects when the time comes. The police should look to Jacques because he had more cause, and Lucas because he has the temper.”

  “Lucas couldn’t kill anyone,” Autumn said evenly. “The police will know that.”

  “I wouldn’t bank on it.” He gave her a crooked smile. “You haven’t been so sure of that yourself.”

  She could say nothing when struck with the truth. Why wasn’t someone coming?

  “This morning, you started talking about four rolls of film, and the pictures you took of the lake. I could tell the moment when you remembered.”

  So much for my talent at acting, she thought grimly. “I only remembered there’d been people down by the lake that morning.”

  “You were putting it all together quickly.” He traced a finger down her cheek and Autumn forced herself not to jerk away. “I had hoped to distract you, gain your affection. It was obvious you were hurting over McLean. If I could have moved in, I might have gotten my hands on that film without having to hurt you.”

  Autumn kept her eyes and voice steady. He’d finished talking now; she could sense it. “What are you going to do?”

  “Damn it, Autumn. I’m going to have to kill you.”

  He said it in much the same way her father had said, “Damn it, Autumn, I’m going to have to spank you.” She nearly broke into hysterical giggles.

  “They’ll know this time, Steve.” Her body was beginning to shake, but she spoke calmly. If she could reason with him . . .

  “No, I don’t think so.” He spoke practically, as if he considered she might have a viable point. “I was careful to get out without being seen. Everyone’s spread out again. I doubt anyone even knows you went outside. I wouldn’t have known myself if I hadn’t found your jacket and boots missing. Then again, if I hadn’t found the jacket hanging on a branch and been able to follow your tracks from there, I wouldn’t have found you so easily.”

  He shrugged, as if showing her why his reasoning was better than hers. “When you’re found missing, I’ll make certain I come this way when we look for you. I can do a lot of damage to the tracks and no one will know any better. Now, Autumn, I need the film. Tell me where you’ve put it.”

  “I’m not going to tell you.” She tossed back her head. As long as she had the film, he had to keep her alive. “They’ll find it. When they do, they’ll know it was you.”

  He made a quick sound of impatience. “You’ll tell me Autumn, eventually. It would be easier for you if you told me now. I don’t want to hurt you any more than I have to. I can make it quick, or I can make it painful.”

  His hand shot out so swiftly, Autumn had no time to dodge the blow. The force of it knocked her back into a tree. The pain welled inside her head and rolled through, leaving dizziness. She clutched at the rough bark to keep her balance as she saw him coming toward her.

  Oh no, she wasn’t going to stand and be hit again. He’d gotten away with it twice, and twice was enough. With as much force as she could muster, she kicked, aiming well below the waist. He went down on his knees like a shot. Autumn turned and fled.

  Chapter 12

  She ran blindly. Escape! It was the only coherent thought in her brain. It wasn’t until the first wave of panic had ebbed that Autumn realized she had run not only away from Steve, but away from the inn. It was too late to double back. She could only concentrate as much effort as possible into putting distance between them. She veered off the path and into thicker undergrowth.

  When she heard him coming after her, Autumn didn’t look back, but increased her pace. His breathing was labored, but close. Too close. She swerved again and plunged on. The ground sucked and pulled at her boots, but she told herself she wouldn’t slip. If she slipped, he would be on top of her in a moment. His hands would be at her throat. She would not slip.

  Her heart was pounding and her lungs were screaming in agony for more air. A branch whipped back, stinging her cheek. But she told herself she wouldn’t stop. She would run and run and run until she no longer heard him coming after her.

  A tree had fallen and lay drunkenly in her path. Without breaking stride, Autumn vaulted it, sliding for a moment when her boots hit the mud, then pounding on. He slipped. She heard the slick sound of his boots as they lost traction, then his muffled curse. She kept up her wild pace, nearly giddy at the few seconds his fall had given her.

  Time and direction ceased to exist. For her, the pursuit had no beginning, no end. It was only the race. Her thoughts were no longer rational. She knew only that she had to keep running though she’d almost forgotten why. Her breath was coming in harsh gasps, her legs were like rubber. She knew only the mindless flight of the hunted—the naked fear of the hunter.

  Suddenly, she saw the lake. It glistened as the sun hit its surface. With some last vestige of lucidity, Autumn remembered Steve’s admission that morning. He couldn’t swim. The race had a goal now, and she dashed for it.

  Her crazed approach through the woods had taken her away from the ridge where the incline graduated for easy descent. Instead, she came to the edge of a cliff that fell forty feet in a sheer drop. Without hesitation, Autumn plunged down at full speed. She scrambled and slid, her fingers clawing to keep herself from overbalancing. Like a lizard, she clung to the mountain. Her body scraped on jagged rocks and slid on mud. Julia’s designer sweater shredded. Autumn realized, as the pain grew hot, that her skin suffered equally. Fear pushed her beyond the pain. The lake beckoned below. Safety. Victory.

  Still, he came after her. She could hear his boots clatter on the rocks above her head, jarring pebbles that rained down on her. Autumn leaped the last ten feet. The force of the fall shot up her legs, folding them under her until she rolled into a heap. Then she was scrambling and streaking for the lake.

  She heard him cry out for her. With a final mad impetus, she flung herself into the water, slicing through its surface. Its sharp frigidity shocked her system and gave her strength. Clawing through it, she headed for depth. She was going to win.

  Like a light switched off, the momentum which h
ad driven her so wildly, sapped. The weight of her boots pulled her down. The water closed over her head. Thrashing and choking, Autumn fought for the surface. Her lungs burned as she tried to pull in air. Her arms were heavy, and her feeble strokes had her bobbing up and down. Mists gathered in front of her eyes. Still, she resisted, fighting as the water sucked at her. It was now as deadly an enemy as the one she had sought to escape.

  She heard someone sobbing, and realized dimly it was her own voice calling for help. But she knew there would be none. The fight was gone out of her. Was it music she heard? She thought it came from below her, deep, beckoning. Slowly, surrendering, she let the water take her like a lover.

  ***

  Someone was hurting her. Autumn didn’t protest. Darkness blanketed her mind and numbed the pain. The pushing and prodding were no more irritating to her than a faint itch. Air forced its way into her lungs, and she moaned gently in annoyance.

  Lucas’s voice touched the edges of her mind. He was calling her back in a strange, unnatural voice. Panic? Yes, even through the darkness she could detect a note of panic. What an odd thing to hear in Lucas’s voice. Her eyelids were heavy, and the darkness was so tempting. The need to tell him was stronger. Autumn forced her eyes open. Blackness receded to a verge of mist.

  His face loomed over her, water streaming from it and his hair. It splattered cold on her cheeks. Yet her mouth felt warm, as if his had just left it. Autumn stared at him, groping for the power of speech.

  “Oh God, Autumn.” Lucas brushed the water from her cheeks even as it fell on them again from his own hair. “Oh God. Listen to me. It’s all right, you’re going to be all right, do you hear? You’re going to be all right. I’m going to take you back to the inn. Can you understand me?”

  His voice was desperate, as were his eyes. She’d never heard that tone or seen that expression. Not from Lucas. Autumn wanted to say something that would comfort him, but lacked the strength. The mists were closing in again, and she welcomed them. For a moment, she held them off and dug deep for her voice.