David Morrell - The Covenant Of The Flame

Mrs Caudill had knocked on the bathroom door and explained that she'd laid out some clothes in the adjoining bedroom. Tess wrapped a towel around her breasts and hips, then stepped through the door to the right, finding socks, underwear, jeans, and a short-sleeved, burgundy blouse on the bed. She hurried to dress, discarding the bra. It felt good to have clean clothes against clean skin. They fit her almost perfectly. But the tennis shoes that Mrs Caudill had found were another matter – a half-size too small. Tess had to use the grimy sneakers she'd hoped to discard. Grabbing her burlap purse, which was grimy as well, gave off smoke fumes, and would have to be replaced, she decided she'd better get downstairs before Mrs Caudill changed her mind about calling the police.

In the foyer, she heard noises from the dining room and entered to find a maid placing a silver tray of toast, jam, bacon, scrambled eggs, and orange juice at the end of the long, oak table. Steam rose from a coffee pot.

Mrs Caudill had changed from her housecoat to a dress and sat near the end of the table, the Washington Post before her. Seeing Tess come in, she smiled, although her eyes were dim with melancholy. 'Well, you certainly do look better.' With effort, Mrs Caudill straightened. 'I hope you don't mind. I don't know your tastes, but I took the liberty of having Rose-Marie prepare you a breakfast. You must be famished.'

The aroma of the food made Tess's stomach growl. She hadn't realized until now how weak she felt from hunger. In place of supper last night, all she'd had to eat was the liver pate her mother liked.

Her mother. With renewed force, grief swept through her, chilling, numbing. She resisted the tears that came to her eyes, knowing that, given the stress ahead of her, she didn't dare lose control. It seemed impossible… She still wasn't able to adjust to… Had trouble believing… Refused to admit that her mother was dead.

It couldn't be!

Needing all her discipline, Tess somehow managed to return Mrs Caudill's smile. 'Thank you. You've been too kind.'

'Spare me the compliments, Tess. You can thank me by eating everything on your plate. Today will be, excuse my French, an s.o.b. You're going to need all your strength.'

'I'm afraid you're right.' Tess sat at the table, unfolded her napkin, and with a trembling hand picked up a gleaming silver fork. She amazed herself by how quickly she devoured the meal, even though this was far from her usual breakfast. She'd long ago restricted eggs (too much cholesterol) and bacon (carcinogenic nitrates) from her diet.

As she finished the last of her orange juice, gaining energy from the enormous amount that she'd eaten, Tess impulsively thought to ask, 'Where's your husband? At the Justice Department? Up at your summer place in Maine?'

'My husband?' Mrs Caudill's face turned pale. 'You mean you don't know?'

'Know?' Tess set down her glass. 'Know what? I'm not sure…'

'My husband died three years ago.'

'Oh.' Tess's voice dropped. Shock rippled through her. She felt paralyzed, uncertain what to do or say next.

Then she was certain, and she reached to touch Mrs Caudill's hand, gently squeezing it. 'I'm truly, painfully sorry. I liked him. Very much. He always made me feel welcome.'

Mrs Caudill bit her lip. 'Yes.' She restrained a sniffle. 'He was a decent, loving man.'

'If you don't mind…'

'What?'

'Talking about it.'

'Mind?' Mrs Caudill shook her head. 'Not at all. In fact, in an odd way, it helps me. Go right ahead. I'm a tough old lady.'

'What happened? '

'A heart attack.' Mrs Caudill sighed. 'As much as I did my best, I could never convince him to cut back on his work load. I kept telling him to take more vacations or at least stay away from the office on weekends.' Her lips trembled. 'Well, I guess he died where he wanted to be. Not at home but the office.'

Death, Tess thought. I'm surrounded by death.

'So I know how you feel, Tess. Lord, I wish I didn't, but I do. My husband. Your mother. We'll miss them. Our lives are less without them.' Mrs Caudill braced her shoulders as if she didn't want to pursue the topic. She nodded glumly toward the Washington Post in front of her. The fire at your house… the killings… apparently they happened too late last night to be reported in this morning's paper. But perhaps we should turn on the radio. There might be some new information, some further developments you should know about.'

With a cringe, Tess recalled the nightmare, the flames, her mother being shot. The thought of hearing it described on the radio appalled her. Nonetheless she was desperate to know if the police had managed to catch the men who'd shot her mother. 'Yes. That's a good idea.'

'And then of course, now that you're rested, you'll have to phone the police.'

'Exactly,' Tess lied. 'I was just about to do that.'

But her attention was directed toward the newspaper in front of Mrs Caudill. The headline faced away from her. Even so, she managed to decipher what it said and turned cold, stiffening. She gasped, leaned forward to grab the newspaper, and twisted it so the headline glared up at her.

BRIAN HAMILTON DIES IN FREEWAY ACCIDENT

'Oh, my God.' Bile from her breakfast burned into Tess's throat. ' Brian Hamilton's dead ?' She frantically read the article.

'A van forced his car off the road.' Mrs Caudill sounded depressed. 'Either a maniac or a drunken driver.'

Tess kept scanning the article. ' Then Brian's car hit an electrical pole? His car exploded ?'

'If he wasn't killed in the crash, the flames would have… To think he survived all those years in combat in Vietnam, only to die in a pointless car accident.'

'But I just saw him last night!' Tess jerked upright from her chair. 'I spoke to him at my mother's house!'

'Yes, I forgot. He and your mother were friends. Because of your father.'

'It's not just that. I asked him to do me a favor. I…'

'A favor?' Mrs Caudill asked.

A welter of frightening thoughts collided in Tess's mind. The fire at the mansion. The accident on the freeway. She couldn't believe that the two were coincidental. Whoever had killed her mother had also killed Brian Hamilton! They'd somehow found out that Tess had summoned him! They feared the information that Tess had given him!

They're killing everybody who knows what I know! They're killing everyone I come in contact with!

No! Mrs Caudill! If I don't get out of here, she'll be next!

'I have to use your phone.' Tess tried desperately not to sound terrified.

'To call the police?'

'Right,' Tess said. The police. It's time. I need to talk to them.'

'There's a phone in the hallway. Another one in the kitchen.'

Hallway? Kitchen? Which would be more private? A maid was in the kitchen.

'The hallway,' Tess blurted and hurried from the dining room.

Her fierce thoughts multiplied. She'd hated Brian Hamilton because he'd sent her father to Beirut where he'd been murdered.

But last night she'd made a bargain with the man she hated, and now the man she hated was dead. Because he'd set out to cancel the debt he owed by trying to use all his power to learn everything he could about Joseph Martin.

Death. Everyone I speak to…!

Not me, though! I'm still alive.

And I'll get even!

She reached the phone in the hallway, groped into her purse, fumbled past the handgun, and yanked out the card that Craig had given her.

Craig! He was the only person who'd understand. The two of them had been through this nightmare together almost from the start.

But Craig knew what she knew. Maybe he was in danger. She had to warn him.

Glancing urgently toward his card, she pressed numbers on the phone.