Catherine Coulter - The Edge

To my wonder and relief, Cotter said in a calm, controlled voice, "I'm sorry, Mother. I don't want to make a mess in the living room. You have so many nice things in here." He'd made the right choice.

"Yes, dear. It's kind of you to remember. Go find your father now."

Cotter walked out through the elegant arch of the living room doorway. He turned and said, "Rob Morrison was a fool. He only wanted you for two and a half weeks, Mother. Was he blind? You're so beautiful the bastard should have been crawling to you. Rob was fucked up, crazy." Then he was gone.

"I apologize," Elaine said with a charming smile to all of us. "Cotter gets overstimulated sometimes. My mother was exactly the same way. I believe it's drinking too much coffee. He doesn't mean any harm.

Now, are you all ready to leave? It's time, you know. I do have a lot to accomplish this afternoon."

Sherlock shuddered. Laura said, "Mrs. Tarcher, your son is very seriously disturbed. He's a sociopath.

He needs professional help before he hurts someone or himself. Surely you see that?"

"She's right," Savich said. "He's dangerous, ma'am, and one of these days he won't back down."

"I'll deal with it if and when that day comes," she said. "He doesn't need a shrink. That's absurd. Actually, I believe he got himself involved with that terrible drug of Paul's. As soon as some time passes, I'm sure he will be all right again.

"I'd like you all to leave now. I've been very cooperative, but enough is enough. Why are you staring at me, Agent Savich?"

"You said your son was taking Paul's drug," Savich said, his hand still on Sherlock's shoulder.

"Yes, I'm afraid so. I'm not sure what it was, but he's seemed more aggressive, not always in control of himself."

"What we gave Cotter, my dear, was a simple tranquilizer that Paul recommended, nothing more."

Alyssum Tarcher had entered the room speaking these words. He stood tall and imposing in tailored Italian slacks and a white shirt open at his throat. How much had he heard his wife spill?

He continued, "Well, if it isn't more federal agents, in my living room, threatening my wife and bullying my son. Poor Cotter is in a state. Now, I've had it with all of you. If you don't have a warrant, I want you out of here."

"Sir," I said to Alyssum Tarcher, "we came to ask you about Jilly. She's still missing. I'm very worried about her. Have you seen her? Do you know where she is?"

"We haven't seen Jilly since before her accident," he said.

"Do you think Jilly was taking Paul's drug?" Savich asked. "Do you think she was taking too much of it?

That it made her mentally unstable and that's why she drove off the cliff?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. You are upsetting my wife."

Laura was hurting, I could tell, but she was controlling it well. She said, "Did you know that John Molinas was murdered in Costa Rica at a drug compound run by Del Cabrizo?"

"It was on the national news," Alyssum said slowly, one eye on his wife. She was sitting very still, her eyes on her ballet slippers. "Neither Elaine nor I have seen John in a very long time. We were saddened to hear of his death."

"Unfortunately, your niece is missing," Sherlock said.

"My brother loved his daughter very much," Elaine said, rising slowly to stand by her husband. "He wasn't a bad man."

"I want you to leave now," Alyssum Tarcher said. "I am innocent of any drug-trafficking charges, these horrible murders that you and your sister, Mr. MacDougal, seem to have brought to us. There is nothing for you here. I don't plan to fall apart and confess because there is nothing to confess. Get out now."

We were nearly to the front door when he said from behind us, "I'll be sending you a bill for the repairs I had to have done on Seagull Cottage. You left it in a mess."

He had wonderful gall.

"That was a good touch," Savich said as we left. "That man's something."

I turned to look back at the house. I saw Cotter staring at us through one of the upstairs windows. When he saw me looking up at him, the curtain fell back over the window. I knew exactly what the drug had done to him. But he'd probably loved it. Had his father taken the drug as well? His mother? I didn't think so. As for Cal, I'd probably never be certain one way or the other.

I felt empty. Coming here had been a waste of time. Jilly was gone and I had no idea now where to look.

"Let's spend the night in Salem at my condo," Laura said. "I want to see Grubster and Nolan. When I called the super from San Jose", he said they were eating well, but not happy that I was gone. It was very nice of Maggie to take them back home."

"Will they sleep with us?"

"It's a queen-size bed," Laura said. "There'll be room enough for all of us. Oh, yes, I've got a nice guest room for Sherlock and Savich."

I called Maggie Sheffield and told her where we'd be if anything happened to turn up, which I strongly doubted. So did she, but she was nice enough not to say so.

I fell asleep in Laura's very comfortable bed, at arm's length from Laura because Grubster had decided to pun-the night away snuggled against her side.

I dreamed I saw headlights, bright and sharp, piercing through a dense fog that seemed to cover everything in a thick veil of white.

Odd, but I could clearly see the road ahead. It was coming at me quickly, too quickly. I wanted to yell and smash down on the brakes, but I couldn't. If there were brakes, I didn't know where to find them. I wanted to get away from that highway that was moving so quickly, but I was helpless. I was trapped.

I couldn't draw a breath I was so afraid. Suddenly, I heard a soft keening sound from beside me. It was a woman moaning as if she hadn't anything left, as if there was nothing more for her and she knew it and accepted it.

I wanted us both to stop, but the road kept coming up through those bright headlights, faster and faster. I tried to tell her I was here with her, that I would help if I could. But she couldn't hear me.

I heard her speaking now, quietly. She was praying. I was nearly part of her in those moments when she prayed for forgiveness.

I knew I was dreaming despite what I thought, what I felt. I wanted to wake up but I couldn't.

The road disappeared. I was thrown forward hard, but then everything seemed to fade away. We were flying out into the fog, sailing high, then dropping toward the water.

I was aware of immense pain slamming through me, a tremendous pressure against my chest that didn't really hurt but was just there. Then it too was gone. There was just an eerie sense of calm, of finality. So easy, I thought, it was so very easy. I smiled at the gentleness of it, smiled even as everything simply went black, and I felt nothing at all.

The next morning the four of us stood together on the cliff, looking out over the water. It didn't take long.

A man in scuba gear split the surface of the water and yelled, "She's down here!"

I'd known Jilly would be. In my dream I was down there with her.

Another man came up beside him. He called out, "There are two cars down there, next to each other.

There's a white Porsche that looks like it's been there awhile and the one she's in looks like a rental car."

Washington, D.C. Three Months Later

"Squawk." "Keep your feathers on, Nolan." I dumped a pile of sunflower seeds in my palm and reached inside his cage.

"Squawk."

"Here you go."

Grubster rubbed against my bare leg. "Yep, you're next, fella."

You'd look at Grubster and believe he'd eat anything that didn't move out of his path he was so big, but it wasn't true. Grubster ate only gourmet cat food. That had started the day we'd all moved into a new town house in Georgetown.