Chapter Twenty-Five

"I think you should go back to the hospital," Greer said. "You shouldn't have left."

Alish looked at her granddaughter's hand, then held it up for Sara to see.

Sara understood. It was about youth. Greer's hand was unlined, no wrinkles or spots, but pure, clean, young flesh. Young people wanted to hold on to life. Greer wanted her grandmother to return to tubes and needles and endless doctors. All to stay alive, even if only for a few more days.

But Sara knew that there came a time when a person accepted death. The concern was how it would happen. With or without pain? Long or slow? Or the best, quick and unexpected?

It was easy to see that Alish was ready to leave the earth. She didn't fear going. She just wanted to enjoy what she could, especially to be with her granddaughter who she obviously loved.

And there was more. From Alish's eyes, weak and watery, and oh so very tired, Sara could see that the woman wanted to tell. To confess. To leave behind the truth.

But first, Sara wanted to know the answer to the question of "who?" She looked at Greer, then to Alish with her eyebrows raised.

"No," Alish said. "I sent Reid away to his company in St. Petersburg. I got one of the nurses to send Sheriff Flynn a text saying Reid pushed me down the stairs. He said he will have men meet Reid there. When they return, I will tell what he did to that blackmailing man. The sheriff will—"

Greer pulled her hand away and sat up straight. "Are you saying that Reid is the one who killed Mr. Oliver?"

"And Rachel," Sara said calmly, then looked at Alish. "She knew too much?"

Alish nodded.

"I don't understand," Greer said. "You sent me away for my whole life. But back then, did you know that Reid did that?"

Sara looked at Greer, her face stern. "She protected you. She kept you safe. She couldn't betray her grandson, no matter what. You can't ask anyone to make a choice like that."

Alish was swallowing hard, glad that Sara understood. "It was my fault. I did it all."

Sara put her hand to the side of her neck and said, "Ink."

Alish let out a sigh that seemed to be relief at the truth being known.

"You're saying that my brother is a murderer?" Greer's voice was rising in anger. "I don't believe you." She started to get up.

Sara turned fiery eyes on her. "You can sit and listen to what your grandmother has to say or you can get on your platform of superiority and condemn everyone. It's your choice!"

Greer sat back down.

"Scotland," Alish said. "It's all from there. Two sisters. They were identical twins."

Sara nodded. "I guessed as much. Mary and her sister."

"Like your books." Alish smiled. "I've read them. Very entertaining. You have twins. One good and one bad."

"Too boring," Sara said. "My twins are always different, not good and bad."

"Mary was sweet and kind and very quiet. Her sister—I cannot bear to say her name—loved parties and people and being the center of everyone's attention. Every male for fifty miles wanted her."

"Except for one man," Sara said. "James Lachlan."

"James was as poor as the rest of us, but there was something inside of him. A light that people could feel. He was different from us."

"And the sister wanted him," Sara said.

"She did. This was before I was born, but my mother told me of it. The sister wore red and let her hair hang down. She exposed bits of her body—shameful things then."

"And Mary?"

"She did the washing on Mondays, the baking on Fridays. She hardly ever left the little stone cottage of her parents. There was no man courting her. The sister made sure of that. If a man came near Mary, the sister stepped in. She was so bright and vibrant that the men turned away from Mary."

"But not James," Sara said. "A true hero. He could see beyond the flashing eyes and the exposed skin."

"Mother said no one was more surprised at the proposal than Mary was. James walked to the cottage, went to her father, and asked for Mary's hand. Of course the man agreed. James had an aura about him that a person could feel. After Mary's father approved, James asked Mary if she'd marry him. She was hanging clothes out to dry. She was so astonished all she did was nod. Mother said Mary was so shy that she never spoke to James until the morning after the wedding night."

Sara laughed. "I love that! Wish I'd used it in a book. Sex before words. Perfect." She paused. "But what did the sister do?"

"My mother told of the rage of the girl in the weeks before the wedding. Mary had somehow won the man every female wanted. The man everyone knew was going to achieve success. There were lots of little ‘accidents.' Mary was burned, things fell on her, her wedding dress was torn. On and on."

"I've written about jealous sisters." Sara paused. "She was the mother of the first Reid. Who did she marry?"

"No one," Alish said. "The sister found a man who looked like James. He was tall and handsome. He wasn't from our village but from the city. He was also a thief, a liar, and some said he was a murderer."

Greer had been silent through this, but she spoke up. "Your husband's father. My great grandfather."

"He was," Alish said. "I was told that the sister cried to Mary that she'd been raped and was to bear the man's child. But my mother had seen her with the man. She knew it was a lie."

"Is this why the families left Scotland?"

"Yes. Had they stayed, the sister's life wouldn't have been worth much."

Sara grit her teeth. "I know about women being blamed for whatever happens to them from a man. So the sisters gave birth to boys who looked alike but one had a birthmark."

Alish nodded. "Reid had a big red mark on his neck. It was said that his robber father also had that mark, but no one knew for sure. When they got to America, the sister wanted to live with James and Mary, but he said no. Mother said James knew the true nature of the sister and didn't trust her not to kill Mary."

"In an accident, of course," Sara said.

"With no question. James found a good husband for her, but she treated him badly. When her son looked like Mary's boy, the sister hinted that James was the father. It hurt Mary, but she never confronted her sister. Mary was generous and kind to both of the boys."

"Was Reid always bad?" Sara asked.

"Yes," Alish said. "But not to me. I have never been..." She broke off, her eyes sad.

"A man magnet?" Sara said cheerfully. "Femme fatale? One of the buxom beauties on the covers of my novels?"

Alish smiled. "Exactly so. I wasn't asked to dances by other boys, but Reid did. He was so handsome! I ignored the stories of what he did to others. He—"

Greer interrupted. "But didn't you see what he was? With your powers?"

Alish closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them. "I did. But I was so young and so in awe of this beautiful man that I paid attention only to the parts I wanted to see. My future was linked to him. That's the only thing I wanted to see."

"He hated Aran," Sara said softly.

"Passionately. Even more than the sister hated Mary. Aran had the money, the house, the father everyone admired. Reid's mother was scorned, his father laughed at. Reid's hatred of Aran was all-consuming. It ate at him."

"But I saw them together on the horse," Sara said. "They looked like friends."

"How did you see that?" Greer asked.

"A dream I sent her," Alish said, then looked back at Sara. "Reid covered his hatred. Only I knew of it. He said he'd been acting all his life and that's what led to him to leave Florida."

"To make a movie," Sara said. "Only Once."

Greer's eyes widened. "The movie I saw with Quinn and Gil. The actor who killed the women was my grandfather?"

"Yes," Alish said.

"He was gorgeous," Greer said.

"And as deadly in real life as the man in the movie," Sara said. "After the movie was done, he returned here to Lachlan, didn't he?"

Alish's heart was beating so hard a vein in her neck was throbbing. "Yes," she said quietly. "I think he wanted to rub Aran's nose in it, but it didn't happen. On his first night back, he killed Tom Skellit in a barroom brawl. He was an awful man and was drunkenly saying that Reid was nothing and never would be. One punch and he fell. He was dead."

"Manslaughter at best," Sara said. "Maybe even self-defense, but the judge..."

"Came over with James and was a failure at everything. Out of spite, he sentenced Reid to hang."

"But he wasn't executed," Sara said.

Greer frowned. "Yes he was. We all know that."

Sara put her hand to her neck. "Reid didn't hang."

Tears began to slide down Alish's face. "I knew I was going to have a baby and I was desperate. It's no excuse, but back then I felt it was. And Reid had spent years making me hate Aran."

When Alish was silent, Greer said, "I don't understand. What happened?"

Alish looked at Sara for her to finish.

"Alish visited Reid in prison and he talked her into getting Aran to visit with her. The plan was to switch identities. Clothes. And the birthmark." She glanced at Alish. "She agreed but only if Reid married her before they did it."

"A marriage for murder," Alish whispered. "It's what I traded for."

"The judge agreed and three days before Reid was to be hanged, your grandparents were married. Then..." Sara paused, looking at Alish.

"Early on the morning it was to happen, Aran and I visited Reid to say a final goodbye. I'd had to beg and cry to get him to go with me. I paid the guard to leave us alone. He thought we wanted to do something unholy—and we did, but not what he thought." She turned to Sara.

"You and Reid drugged Aran, changed clothes, and inked his neck," Sara said. "The birthmark was how the men could be told apart." She took a breath. "I saw Aran being dragged to the gallows. He was hardly awake." She looked at Alish. "The date of the execution is the tattoo on your arm. This Reid said you wouldn't leave Lachlan because you wanted to stay with your husband, but it was Aran who you wouldn't leave."

Alish nodded. "I didn't want him to be alone."

"Mary!" Sara said.

"She died in the car crash. No one believed it was an accident. She couldn't bear losing her son."

"Who she thought had run away," Sara said. "I can't imagine her grief. Did James know the truth of what happened to his son?"

"Not for years, but he did figure it out. He didn't tell me directly, but he hinted at it. By then, Reid, known as Taylor Caswell, had been killed in LA. He never saw his movie. Never knew of his success."

"Maybe it was karma," Sara said. "Did James know of your part in it all?"

"I don't know. I never wanted to know. He was always kind to me and to Reid's son. James insisted he be named Reid II so maybe he did know."

"My father," Greer said, "was a good man."

"Very good. But the third Reid—your brother—was like the first one, and like Mary's sister's thief lover."

"When did you know about your grandson?" Sara asked.

"By the time he was two, but then, I was watching for signs of what he could have inherited. When Greer was born, I saw the hatred in his eyes. I felt it."

"He never hated me!" Greer was defensive.

"That scar on your leg?"

"Mother said I fell on some rocks."

"He pushed you. The scars on your feet from stepping on glass? Reid did that. You had vomiting attacks often. I don't know what he fed you."

Greer's face seemed to fall. "Our parents?"

Alish took a breath. "The mechanic said the brakes had been cut, but the police could find no motive for anyone to do such a thing. You see, I was the one with the money, so Reid wanted to live with me."

"The money from the movie royalties," Sara said.

"Yes. It's what I'd foreseen. If I got Reid to marry me, our child and I would have money to support us forever. I didn't know how it would work, but I knew it would."

Greer seemed to have lost all color in her face. "This is why I wasn't allowed to go to school."

"I needed you close to me, and I managed to keep Reid under control. When he grew up, I bought him a company to play with, to make him feel powerful. He knows that if I die of any so-called accident, my money goes to charity." She looked at Greer. "Nothing was ever willed to you as that would jeopardize your life."

"But then he killed Derek Oliver," Sara said. "Why? Reid was to inherit this place."

"I don't know," Alish said. "I didn't ask. He came to me that night, after it was done." She hesitated. "He wore a look I'd seen on my husband. When Reid changed clothes with Aran, there was a gleam in Reid's eyes. It was a look that was a mixture of pleasure and excitement. The night Derek Oliver was killed, I saw that same look. Reid handed me a rolled-up rug and told me to burn it. I didn't ask about the contents. All I knew was that I had to get Greer out of the country. I'd seen what that look could lead to."

"And you faked her death," Sara said.

"A few years later, Reid began asking about her. I think he'd found something of hers."

"He had a piece of fabric from her blouse that was caught in the doorway."

"Maybe he thought she'd seen something."

"I didn't see anything," Greer said. "I tore my blouse that morning. I was looking for Kate's hedgehog."

"What about Jack?" Sara asked. "We think someone has been trying to hurt him."

"I don't know about that either," Alish said. "All I'm sure of is that I can no longer control my grandson. Years ago, he was very angry when the rich young woman, Rachel, wouldn't marry him."

"Now Reid appears to be a success, but Rachel still said no." Sara looked at Alish. "He lost control of himself. This time, it was a murder for marriage but it still didn't work."

Alish reached out to squeeze Greer's hand. "At least I have one success of my marriage for murder." She looked at Sara. "You must save her."

Sara looked at Greer. "Until I hear that your brother is in custody, I want you out of here." She took her phone out of her pocket and sent a text to Gil.

Come and get her. Take her to Colorado.

Yes, was Gil's immediate reply.

Sara's phone buzzed. It was a text from Sheriff Flynn.

Reid isn't in St Pete. Where is he?

There was a text from Kate. I can't find Jack.

Sara look at Alish. "Reid isn't where you sent him." She saw the look of fear that came into the woman's eyes.

"He wants this house." Alish's voice was hardly above a whisper.

"It's his!" Sara said loudly. "If he'd let Derek Oliver live, Reid would know that."

"He would have claimed the house if he could have," Alish said. "It represents everything to him, what he should have been given but wasn't. It's the life he should have been born into."

"Like his grandfather." Sara stood up. "Jack. There's something about Jack. Where is Reid?"

"Maybe in the mausoleum. He always liked that place."

Sara left the cottage and ran across the property to the other end, where the stone mausoleum of James and Mary Lachlan lay, their son entombed beside them. Sara hadn't seen the place since she and Cal had been there. It had given her cold chills. He'd teased her, saying she usually liked graveyards.

Sara said, "I like history. You find out a lot from reading headstones." She'd frowned at the big mausoleum. "But this place is different."

"Haunted by the dead?" he'd asked, still teasing.

"Far from it. It's still alive."

Cal had halted, the big shears in his hands as he cut away Florida's rampant growth. "Okay, that's it. Tell me your story of dead people who are still alive."

She'd sat down as far as she could get from the stone structure and made up a story for him, as she often did. She didn't tell him that her story had nothing to do with the Lachlan tomb. That was real, not made up.

Now she saw that door was open a couple of inches. She hesitated before pushing it fully open. She should wait for others to come. She should...

When she saw a flicker of light, a candle, then heard a sound that seemed to come from Kate, she pushed the door open.

Against the back wall, Kate was tied to a chair, her mouth bound with a gag. It was the sweaty bandanna Reid had used earlier. Her eyes were wild with fear, and she moved her head to the right, directing Sara to look.

Stretched out on the tall stone coffin of James Lachlan was Jack, his arms crossed over his chest. The pose of death.

Sara took a step toward him and put her hand on his heart. He was alive. She gave a nod to Kate.

Through all of this, Sara had not looked behind her, but she knew what was there. Reid was in the darkest corner, a gun pointed at her.

Sara willed her heart to slow down so she could think. She knew about narcissistic personalities, people who believed they were entitled to have whatever they wanted. She also knew how they liked to talk about themselves. It may all be flamboyant, self-loving lies, but they loved the sound of their own voices.

"This should all be yours," she said quietly. "Why isn't it?" She was trying to sound caring, even concerned.

"You," he said.

Sara suppressed the urge to defend herself. "My writing? The searching for the story of your family?"

"That man! He was a boy. That's all he was. Then him!" Reid nodded toward Jack.

Sara didn't understand, but she needed to stall. "Did you know that the handsome man in the movie, Only Once, was your grandfather?"

That startled him so much that for a moment his hand wavered and the gun went down a bit. "My grandfather was hanged for murder. I was told that by my rich, greedy grandmother. She gave me little."

Sara bit her tongue to keep from replying. All narcissists thought that there was never enough given to them. "She should have told you the truth."

"About a movie star relative? Yeah, she should have, but that wouldn't have helped. He kept it all secret."

Sara wasn't sure who "he" was. James Lachlan, maybe? "But Derek Oliver found out the truth?"

Reid gave her an appraising look. "Are you trying to put me into one of your stories?"

"I want to know what Jack has to do with anything," she said truthfully. To her left she saw a flicker of movement. Kate was trying to work free of her bonds. Sara stepped forward so Reid's eyes looked at her, away from Kate. "What does Jack have to do with any of this?"

Reid gave a snort of derision. "You think you're so clever but you didn't figure it out?"

"No," Sara said honestly. "I didn't."

"The Palm Room filled with Brazilian art? Oliver knew! He searched and snooped and dug into everything. Lachlan had it all in that room."

"Brazil," Sara whispered. "Renata. Cal's mother. She cooked for him."

"You stupid woman! They were lovers. Callum Wyatt was James Lachlan's son."

For a moment, Sara was so shocked, she forgot the circumstances they were in. With her many years of plotting novels, she could follow that bit of information from the past to the present. "If Cal was the son, then..." Turning, she looked at Jack. "By James Lachlan's will, that would make Jack the owner of this property."

She looked back at Reid. They needed to get back to Derek Oliver. "He said that you owned the place, then he took it away from you."

When Reid gave a curt nod, Sara looked at him with genuine sympathy. She knew about wanting something with all your heart, then losing it. "That night when he told you, you lost sight of the world," she said softly. "Your soul left your body. There were no thoughts, no conscience. You floated above yourself and watched what someone else did." She took a tiny step forward.

"Yes," he said.

"You hit him but it wasn't enough. He'd taken everything from you. Your toolbox was there and he was lying on that silly rug with the turtles on it. It's where your sister played." Sara took another step. "She got so much, didn't she? Your grandmother loved her very much. You took from the man who'd stolen from you, but you knew you'd be the one blamed. Misjudged as your grandfather was."

"And Kate." His upper lip went into a sneer as he looked at her tied to the chair.

Sara blocked his view with what seemed to be a natural movement. Not fast, not abrupt. "Kate's hedgehog. It filled the gap. Pesky little animal. Too much attention was given to a mere child. What had she done to earn it?"

Reid gave a curt nod.

"I bet you were tired by then. It wasn't as though you had done something bad. So you rolled up the rug and took the...the debris away. To your grandmother. She'd fix it. She's always taken care of things, hasn't she? Greer's accidents. What happened to her at school. Grans fixed it all."

"For her," Reid said. "Never for me."

Sara stepped an inch closer. "And she did. You gave her the rug and Derek Oliver disappeared. It never happened, did it? And Greer was sent away. You had your grandmother to yourself."

Reid was looking at the floor, then suddenly, he stood upright. "But I got nothing. This house belongs to him." He pointed the gun at Jack, who was unmoving on the stone coffin.

Sara, now only a foot from Reid, put her head down and rammed him in the stomach. Years of boxing and weight training had made her strong.

Knocked off-balance, Reid fell back against the wall, the gun went off, with the bullet hitting the ceiling. He brought the grip of the gun down onto Sara's head and she collapsed to the floor.

In the next second, Gil threw the door of the mausoleum open. Lenny and Sheriff Flynn were behind him.

Sara said, "Jack," then passed out.