“Indeed.” Anne turned her comments to Sally. “My street smarts far exceed my husband’s. Contrary to his one-track thought process, I knew you weren’t the type of person who could be bought off. I refused to stand idly by and watch Edward’s hopes, dreams, and his very life disintegrate along with James’s future.”
“Vista was using Sunrise as a pincushion,” Sally declared in a sickened tone. “I should have figured it out.”
“Your daughter did, thanks to her veterinary training and obnoxious snooping. She had to be stopped. So I sent Luis to waylay her. My plan was to keep her out of commission until Vista’s work was complete and he was out of the country. Then she’d no longer be a threat. Unfortunately, your younger daughter opened the front door when Luis arrived. He assumed she was Devon and grabbed her. I didn’t realize his mistake until a short while ago. I was on the verge of letting her go when you and your ex-wife charged in here.”
“Then let her go now,” Sally interrupted.
“No.” Anne didn’t mince words. “At this point, Meredith knows far too much. Which means she has to die along with you. And you’ll have to bear the knowledge that you’re responsible for the death of your own
child. Just like I have.”
Sally made a choked sound.
“Nice plan,” Monty commented. “Except how are you going to kill us without it looking like murder? I realize you’re a pro at staging suicide, but a triple suicide? No way the cops will buy it. That scraps an encore performance of what you did to Rhodes. The investigation’s bound to be thorough, since death by affiliation with the Piersons seems to be contagious this week. And where do you think the cops will start? With the royal family itself. Rhodes isn’t around anymore for you to frame. So what’s your strategy?”
“You’re about to find out.” More muffled sounds. “Luis, vaya adelante. Utilice el chloroform.”
Go ahead. Use the chloroform.
Devon didn’t have to translate that one for Blake.
“You underestimate me, Detective,” Anne told him, the background noise announcing that Luis was preparing to follow orders. “I’m smart. I’m tough. And I’m willing to do anything to protect my family—even more than Edward will. I’m not afraid of the repercussions. What’s life in prison to a woman my age? Besides, I doubt it will come to that. I’ve got wealth and old age in my favor, not to mention the excellent attorney I’ll hire who can capitalize on both. We’ll bring the judge and jury to tears. Now relax. This will go easier if you do.”
“Leave them alone!” came a horrified girl’s voice.
Merry. Devon mouthed her sister’s name.
“Meredith—stay still.” Monty’s voice sliced like a knife. “Don’t fight her.”
There was an instant of silence, and Devon found herself praying her sister had listened. If ever there was a time for her to trust Monty, now was it.
“Smart girl.” Anne’s response told Devon that Merry thought so, too.
Devon released a sigh of relief. From her peripheral vision, she saw Blake reaching for his cell phone. He gestured to her, and she understood. He was calling 911.
“You’re making it damned easy for the cops,” Monty remarked. “Three dead bodies in your husband’s office? Pretty open-and-shut.”
“I’m not having you killed here, you fool.”
“Really? Then before your hit man knocks us out, can I know how and where we’re going to die? Or are you planning to wake us up for the show?”
Devon reached over and gripped Blake’s arm. “Wait.” She understood what Monty was doing. He was grilling Anne so they would know where to send help.
“I doubt you’d enjoy being conscious at the time, Detective.” Anne’s tone was grim. “The chloroform is my idea of being merciful. I have no desire to prolong your suffering. I simply want you all gone. So say your goodbyes. Luis and Carlos—that’s the man Edward hired to follow Devon—will tuck you in your car and drive you to Clove Mountain. There’s a section of road there that’s closed off for the winter. It’s thickly wooded and has some marvelously tight turns. The rest you can guess.”
“Clever.” Monty made an appreciative sound. “It’ll be dusk by then. The area’s deserted. Hey, you even have the cooperation of the weather. There are a couple of inches of snow on the ground. The roads will be slick—especially on an unpaved road at a sharp turn. You’re right. I did underestimate you.”
“That’s it,” Devon hissed at Blake. “Now call 911. Tell the sheriff to contact the state police and get as many cars as possible over to West Clove Mountain Road. Tell them to go straight to the wooded section with the dirt road that’s closed off for winter. They’ll know the spot. It looks like something out of ‘The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.’ Tell them we’re trying to stop a triple homicide.”
Blake was already punching up 911.
Devon groped in the Pierson file, extracting a sheet of paper. “And Blake?” she added in a whisper. “Have them pick up Vista. Otherwise he’ll take off, along with the evidence. Tell the sheriff we’ll give him all the proof he needs when we arrive at the scene.” She glanced down at the page in her hand. “Vista’s got New York plates, license number XVM-19L.”
She shut her eyes, grimacing at the shuffling sounds emanating from her cell phone. She knew what they meant, especially punctuated by Anne Pierson’s icy, “Good night, Detective.”
CHAPTER 30
The sky had gone dark, and the snow was coming down with blinding intensity as Blake’s Jag slipped and slid up the Taconic Parkway. The road conditions sucked, as did the visibility, and the cars were crawling along the curved span of highway toward their destinations.