Roxanne St. Claire - Make Her Pay

“Up the hill-there’s only one road.”

“Who lives there?”

“The lady’s name is Solange Bettencourt, from New York City. Look up fish out of water, and you should find a real nice picture of her.” She laughed a little. “I haven’t been up there since I sent you the e-mail ’cause Mrs. B called and told me your sister was going to be helping her out with the cooking and stuff. You should find her up there.”

She’d come here to work for this woman? That was a stretch Lizzie couldn’t even imagine.

“How do we find the farm?” Con asked. “Do we need a car?”

“You could hitchhike up the hill. Any one of the thirty people around who have a car will give you a lift. That’s how I get there, or I borrow the Sousa’s scooter.”

“Can we borrow it?” Lizzie asked. “I’m really anxious to see her.”

Gabby nodded. “She’s going to be happy to see you, too, I think.”

Lizzie pictured the copy of the manifest she’d brought to show her sister. “I think so, too.”

Solange had kept Brianna Dare waiting for more than half the day, then let her into the attic “library” to read some innocuous paperwork about the Bettencourt family tree. Nothing that could support her ridiculous theory that Carlos Bettencourt hadn’t paid for the delivery of treasures he’d ordered. The girl’s ancestor was a pirate, and Solange’s was practically Portuguese nobility.

Not that she cared about that nearly as much as this girl did. She was too, too close. Still, nothing she could find or produce would be as powerful as the fact that the scepter was on Bettencourt property today-and the other would be here soon.

All the wheels had been set into motion to retrieve the mate, and the discovery would make Jaeger sick with remorse. Then he’d bring her home.

After the library, Solange brought the girl to the kitchen, suggesting she do a little cooking since Gabby was gone for a few days, then left her there to get the scheduled call.

The satellite phone rang right on time, but Solange hesitated when the ID wasn’t a number she recognized. She answered tentatively, and the familiar voice’s first words shook her.

“The dive is over.”

“What do you mean , it’s over?” she asked in a hushed whisper as she closed the door to her upstairs room. “How can it be over?”

“One of the divers was killed in an accident. The Coast Guard brought the FBI in, and Judd’s filed an official claim, so the site can’t be salvaged until next season. We’re done for now, Solange.”

Fury slammed her. “You didn’t find it!”

“No, I didn’t.”

“That’s what I’ve paid you to do!”

“We still have next summer. Of course, it’ll be harder when the dive’s not secret.”

And Judd Paxton would be even more motivated by her husband’s desire to own both of those scepters.

“Brianna Dare is sitting in my kitchen right this minute,” she said, measuring every word for the most impact. “She and her sister have done a tremendous amount of research. It’s only a matter of time until they know all that Malcolm Dare knew.”

“We can handle that.”

Did she really want this many deaths on her conscience? Was vengeance worth that price?

“I can’t…” Afford another accidental death on my farm . But she didn’t want him to know about Ana. “…do anything, except slow this girl down. What are you going to do about that one?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

“Well, you better do something, and fast.”

“No one knows Brianna Dare is there,” he said, his voice rich with implication.

“She flew to Corvo, and to Terceira from Lisbon. The authorities could track her.”

“Does anyone know she’s at your house?”

She knew exactly where he was going with this. “Just a housekeeper.”

“And would she question it if you told her your houseguest left?”

“Probably not.”

“Then you need to stop her, Solange.”

Her stomach rolled at the thought. Getting rid of Ana had been a momentary act of madness and fear. What he was suggesting was premeditated.

“I don’t know… how.”

“Figure it out,” he ordered.

“Excuse me?” she shot back. “The last time I checked, you worked for me .”

“I’m offering you counsel,” he said, softening his tone. “No one knows she’s there at your farm, but that could change any minute. You have to get rid of her- and Solange, you have to hide the body. Destroy it and any evidence.”

Her throat tightened at the thought. “They’ll track her here eventually.”

“And you’ll say she came and went, without any explanation of why she wanted to leave. It makes sense that her father’s research would lead her to you ultimately, but by the time the next diving season starts, this will be ancient history. And I promise you, you will end up with the matching pair of the Bombay Blues, the owner of one of the greatest artifacts in the world.”

Jaeger would explode with envy. He’d realize how resourceful she was, how talented. And how he should never have let her leave. He’d love her again.

“Do you really think I have to…” Kill again .

“Yes, you do. And you must be very thorough and neat.”

It didn’t sound very neat to her. It sounded… sickening.

“I really have no idea how to kill a person and destroy the evidence.”

“Use your imagination.”

Her gaze flicked to the windmill that blocked her view. “I will.”

She finished the call, sipped some sustenance, and headed back to the kitchen to convince Brianna Dare to tour the windmill.

“Everything of real interest in this place is in the windmill,” Solange said as they walked toward the structure, the soft whoosh of the sweeps getting louder as they got closer. “This windmill was around when your Aramis and my Carlos were alive. Think about that, Brianna.”

“Amazing,” the girl replied, clearly not that interested. If she knew what was hidden there, she’d be much more enthusiastic.

The secret made Solange smile. “I considered taking it down because it blocks the view.” Solange opened the door to the first level, where the sound changed to a constant groaning, creaking, moaning noise caused by the massive wooden mechanism that took up most of the wide, round structure. “But then I had a change of heart.”

“Why?”

“Apparently there are only a few windmills of this type left on Corvo, with those three sweeps and that big center wheel that can make them turn in either direction. These are found nowhere else in the whole world.”

“Fascinating.”

“Oh, but it is,” Solange said. “This is the main floor-the meal floor, they called it.” She waved a hand across the dimly lit area, pointing to the huge wheel that lay on its side, turning noisily around a fat wooden tube where grain once poured down, ground by the maceration of the wheels and cogs and gears on the level above them.

“It was used to make flour,” she continued, chattering faster as her nerves tightened at what she was about to do. “I suppose I could convert it to a power-producing windmill, but I just like the old-fashioned kind of electricity. The kind you get from the wall.”

“Oh, I see.” Poor Brianna could hardly hide her disinterest.

“The stairs are the best part,” she said, nudging Brianna toward the opening to the long set of circular stairs that curved around and up to the top floor.

“They feel kind of medieval,” Brianna commented, starting the climb.

“Don’t they, though?” Solange agreed. After the fourth step, the wall blocked their view into the gears. “All the way up, you can peek through those slats to the mechanism in the middle. See?” After a moment, they reached the first opening and Brianna peered out.