J. Jance - Web of Evil

"Look," Ali said, trying to sound reassuring. "Let's go down to the basement and check on my mother. Once I'm sure she's all right, we can work together to figure out what's best for you and for your baby."

"You still don't get it, do you?" April said. "It's over."

"What's over?"

"There's not going to be a baby. I'm going to end this whole thing today. Now. What kind of a life would Sonia Marie have with her father dead and me in prison? Even if the cops arrest Jesus Sanchez, sooner or later they're going to figure out what really happened, the same way your mother did. Then they'll come after me. What's the point?"

"You might be in prison, but the baby would be alive."

"Somehow I don't think that's much of a favor. I already told you, there isn't going to be a baby. Come to think of it, maybe I'll burn this house down while I'm at it. That would be pretty funny, wouldn't it? If you're gone and I'm gone and the baby's gone, who gets Paul's money then?" April's question trailed off in a mirthless giggle.

Before Ali could attempt an answer, her phone rang. She pulled it out of her pocket. A glance at the caller ID window told her it was Dave calling.

"It's my father," Ali said to April. "I need to take this call. Otherwise he might come here looking for me."

April nodded. "All right," she said. "Answer it."

Ali pressed the "talk" button.

"Hi, Dad," she said with forced cheerfulness. "How close are you?"

"Dad!" Dave repeated. "I'm not your father. It's Dave, for God's sake. Don't you ever check the caller ID before you answer? And what the hell do you mean, going over to the house all by yourself?"

"No," Ali said calmly, interrupting his angry outburst. "We still haven't found her. I called in a report to Missing Persons, but I haven't gone to the cops directly. If you want to, that's up to you."

"What's going on" Dave stopped abruptly, and then seemed to tumble. "I see," he said. "It's April, isn't it? I'm almost at the house now, just turning up the hill. I'll be there in a matter of minutes."

Somehow Dave Holman was managing to sort through what Ali was saying and arrive at what she needed him to hear. God bless this man! she thought.

"Yes, Dad," Ali said. "It's a very nice hotel. Don't worry. You'll be able to get something to eat. Even if the kitchen is closed when you get there, they have twenty-four-hour room service."

"The kitchen, then," Dave said. "You want me to come to the kitchen. Is she armed?"

"Absolutely," Ali answered. "We'll find her, Dad," she added less vehemently. "I know we will."

"When you see me, try to create a diversion. Or else I will."

"Okay, Pops," Ali said. "See you soon."

She ended the call.

"Turn the phone off and put it on the counter," April said. "You're not taking any more calls."

Ali put the phone down.

"Still," April added wistfully, "it must be nice having a whole family you can call on and have them come riding to the rescue at a moment's notice."

Ali was still standing just to the right of the door. The kitchen window was behind her. If Dave approached the kitchen from that direction, April would see him, and she'd have a shot at both of them. If Ali could manage to distance herself from the door, April's attention would be split.

"You do have that kind of family," Ali said. "You've had it all along. That's what my mother was trying to dohelp you. Your mother was doing the same thing. They were both trying to give you some hard-won advice to help you through this terrible time."

As she spoke, Ali moved past the sink, but April noticed.

"Where do you think you're going?" she demanded. "I told you to stay there."

Ali's heart pounded in her chest. Summoning as much nonchalance as she could muster, she reached up in the cupboard and took down a glass.

"I'm thirsty," Ali said. "I need a drink of water. Do you want some?"

April shook her head.

Taking that as permission, Ali proceeded over to the fridge, where she used the door dispenser to fill the glass with both ice and water. She was relieved to see that April's attention remained focused on her. Unfortunately, so did the gun. Ali's move to the fridge meant she was closer to the weapon now, as well. The barrel seemed immense. And it must have been heavy, too. April's hand seemed to tremble as she tried to hold it steady.

Ali took a deep breath. If she attempted to reason with April, what were the chances she'd simply provoke the disturbed woman that much more? And how much longer would it take for Dave to get here? And when all hell broke loose, where in this high-tech granite and stainless steel kitchen would she look for cover? Ali was far more accustomed to dealing with the world through words than she was with weapons.

"Please, April," she said. "This is pointless. Put the gun down."

As Ali had feared, April did the exact opposite. Rather than putting the pistol down, she raised it and pointed it toward herself. Out of the corner of her eye, Ali caught a hint of movement at the kitchen door. Dave was there. He had approached from the opposite side without passing the window and without being seen while April's life hung in the balance.

Dropping the glass, Ali sprang forward. She reached across the table and slammed one closed fist into April's wrist. At the same time she straight-armed April in the chest with her other arm. Caught off guard and off balance, April spilled backward. The gun exploded with a roar. So did one of the glass pendant light fixtures over the counter. April landed on her back with a grunt. The force of the fall was enough that the gun bounced out of her hand and went spinning across the floor, where it came to rest against the base of the dishwasher. While April struggled to right herself, Ali scrambled after the gun.

"Ali," Dave was shouting. "Are you okay? Did she get you?"

Holding the pistol in one hand and shaking her head, Ali struggled to her feet as Dave helped April to hers. April was crying. There was blood on her face from what looked like a series of jagged cuts, but not from a self-inflicted gunshot wound. That meant Ali's desperate measure had succeeded.

"Why didn't you just let me do it?" April demanded tearfully. "Why can't you people just leave me alone? Why don't you mind your own business?"

It was a moment or two before Ali could find her own voice. Trembling, she examined her body and was more than half surprised to find no gaping wounds.

"I'm okay," she managed at last. "At least I think I am."

In the background now, she could hear the sound of approaching sirens. So Dave had called for backup. He just hadn't waited for reinforcements to arrive before coming to the door. For that Ali was incredibly grateful.

Without another word, Ali left April's gun on the counter and raced for the stairs that led to the basement. She dashed past Paul's loaded wine racks and through the media room. Just as she expected, she found Edie in the decommissioned saunaduct-taped to the slats of the wooden bench. Another piece of duct tape covered her mouth. Her eyes were wide open.

Cringing, Ali peeled the tape off her mother's mouth, removing a good deal of skin along with it.

"Are you all right?" Ali asked.

"Just let me at that little nutcase," Edie replied. "I'll tear her limb from limb. Did I hear gunshots?"

Ali nodded while she struggled to loosen Edie's other restraints, starting with her arms. "You did hear gunshots," Ali said. "One, at least. Fortunately she missed. Dave is upstairs with her, waiting for the cops to get here. If they're not here already, they will be any minute. Are you all right?"

"I'm more mad than hurt," Edie replied. "She gave me a good crack on the back of the head. I was out for a while, and my head hurts like crazy. What in the world is the matter with that girl?"