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Chapter Twenty-Eight

–––

A Life at Stake

As I watched, Gregory Grimes opened the front door and held it for Grace. From this angle, we mainly had a view of the tops of their heads. Grace was limping slightly, but otherwise appeared okay.

“He just looks so darn harmless, doesn’t he?” Dot said from where she stood beside me.

“Probably how he got away with it for so long,” I muttered. We were ensconced in a tiny security room, in front of an array of monitors set up by, of all people, BJ. Apparently he was somewhat of an expert at discreet surveillance, the implications of which I definitely did not want to consider. It looked like all the rooms were covered. Nervously, I asked, “These are set to record, right? We might need that, if it comes down to it.”

“Don’t worry, we tested it. Now here we go,” Dot breathed as Grace and her father walked to the desk where Kate was sitting.

Kate was placidly flipping through a magazine. As they approached, she threw them the same smile that had captivated me on the night we met. I felt my heart lurch and tried to cover it with a frown. “She really is beautiful, hon,” Dot said, patting my arm reassuringly. “Hell, I might’ve fallen for her, too, if I swung that way.”

“Won’t be making that mistake again,” I mumbled.

We could hear Kate’s voice surprisingly clearly as she said, “Can I help you?”

“Why yes.” Grimes stepped to the desk. His smile was broad and toothy, the rictal grin of a shark. “We understand that there’s some paperwork to fill out for my wife, Marjorie?”

“Ah yes, of course,” Kate said smoothly. “We’re so thrilled to have Mrs. Cabot joining us.”

“Cabot?” Grimes’s face darkened. “There’s been a mistake. Her surname is—”

“Cabot, Father,” Grace said with annoyance. I was heartened to see that she appeared unharmed, at least as far as I could tell from this vantage point. And her attitude certainly hadn’t been affected; she sounded like her usual cantankerous self. “I have power of attorney.”

“That’s what we heard from Ms. Roux,” Kate said. I had to hand it to her, she was playing the part beautifully. But then, pretending to be someone else was definitely in her wheelhouse. “Ms. Cabot, if you’d please go with Portia to the back office, she can get you sorted.”

Portia, who thankfully had changed into standard nursing scrubs and tucked her hair into a bun, stepped around the desk and motioned for Grace to follow. When Grimes started to join, Kate stopped him and said, “Mr. Cabot, if you’d like to go straight to your wife, we’ve got her settled in our common room with some of the other residents. Her room should be ready shortly.”

Grimes hesitated, clearly torn. I held my breath, and Dot reached for my hand and clutched it. This was the moment of truth. Separating Grace from her dad was a key part of the plan. If he refused, we were up a creek. I was counting on the fact that his desire to enact revenge on his wife would outweigh whatever he wanted from Grace. Plus, someone that mannerly would have trouble going against social norms in a public environment; it would seem rude. And I was betting that even though he was a murdering psychopath, Gregory Grimes was never impolite.

Finally, he nodded and boomed, “Of course! Where did you say I could find my wife?”

“I can show you.” Kate gestured toward the archway and added, “They’re serving breakfast right now if you’re hungry.”

“Fabulous!” He clapped his hands together, exuding the bravado of a game show host. It was creepy as fuck, like he was an alien attempting to mimic human behavior without actually understanding it. “Lead the way, young lady!”

I watched as they shifted frames, moving to the monitor that showed the hallway.

“That’s my cue,” I said, fighting a sudden rush of nerves.

“You got this, toots,” Dot said, pulling me into a tight embrace.

I wished I shared her confidence. “Remember,” I said. “If I give the signal, we go to plan B. Get everyone out safely, and don’t worry about me. Right?”

Dot hesitated but then nodded. “It won’t come to that. But don’t worry, I got you.”

“I know you do.” Overcome with emotion, I squeezed her again and said, “You’re the best friend I ever had, Dot.”

“Aw, I love you, too, hon,” Dot said, dabbing at her eyes. “Now don’t go getting yourself killed. It’s too late for me to find a bridesmaid who fits that dress.”

“I’ll do my best.” Turning away, I squared my shoulders and said, “How do I look?”

“Like a hot old lady,” Dot said approvingly. “Now go out there and get him.”

The door to the room suddenly popped open, and Portia and Grace walked in.

“What kind of absurd charade is this, Amber?” Grace said, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“No time to explain,” I said. “And you’re welcome, by the way.”

Grace leaned in and peered at the monitors. “Are those your parents?”

“Dot will fill you in,” I said. “Now just sit tight and let me do my thing.”

“?‘Your thing’?” Grace cocked an eyebrow. “I would have preferred that you stay out of this. I am perfectly capable of handling my father.”

“Too late,” I said, trying not to let her shake my already quavering confidence. “So just buckle up and come along for the ride.”

“You ready, toots?” Dot asked in a low voice.

I nodded, tightening my grip on the gun. She held up a finger and counted:

One…

Two…

On three, she threw open the door and I charged out.

———

When I reached the archway that led to the common room, I paused and drew a deep breath. My nerves were already subsiding, the way they always did when a con got underway. I suspect it’s kind of like stepping onstage for an actor; once the proverbial curtain rose, I felt nothing but calm.

After all, I was a pro, too.

Over the low chatter in the room, I heard Kate say, “Can I interest you in something to eat or drink, Mr. Cabot? They make a lovely avocado toast here.”

“Well, aren’t you a sweetheart!” Grimes boomed. “And so polite. I do appreciate that in a young lady.”

The way he said it made my skin crawl. There was a disconcerting hunger underlying his words. And in spite of how angry and upset I was with Kate, my protective instincts spiked. Gritting my teeth, I shuffled toward them, careful to keep my pace slow.

I was halfway across the room by the time they reached the table occupied by my parents. Right on cue, my dad got to his feet, staggered, and caught himself on Grimes. Grimes reacted fast, shoving him off. My dad’s arms pinwheeled, but he didn’t fall. He protested, “Watch yourself, young man!”

“I’m so sorry,” Kate said quickly. “Mr. Lawson has vertigo, and his balance isn’t what it should be. Mr. Lawson, can I help you back to your room?”

I saw my dad nod weakly, grumbling to himself. Kate took his elbow and said, “Apologies again, Mr. Cabot. I’ll send your daughter back as soon as she’s done with the paperwork.”

“Yes, of course,” Grimes said. He was motionless, staring at the back of my mother’s head.

Kate guided my dad toward me. She met my eyes and gave me a curt nod that I returned. As they passed, my dad said in a low voice, “He’s unarmed.”

“Got it,” I murmured back. “Great job.”

He reached out and subtly squeezed my hand. “Good luck, sweetheart. Love you.”

I felt another rush of emotion that I quickly quashed. It was taking an eternity to cross the room, and the desire to simply drop the act and bolt was nearly overwhelming. But I forced myself to edge forward even more slowly.

Fifteen feet.

Ten.

As I watched, Gregory Grimes pulled out the chair next to my mother and sat down.

I sucked in a deep breath, fear suddenly clenching my stomach. Will he buy it?

Grimes leaned in, squinting at her. I was ten feet away when he sat back, looking pensive. “My, Marjorie,” I overheard him say. “Didn’t you get old.”

My shoulders sagged. He’d bought it, at least for the moment. Now it was up to my mom. I shifted left, circling around as if headed to the café counter. “I am so sorry, dear,” my mother said in a thin, quivering voice. “Do I know you?”

“Oh, yes,” Grimes intoned menacingly. “You are my Judas, my Brutus. My most trusted companion, and my betrayer.”

Five feet. I was nearly there.

I lifted my head to exchange a quick glance with Marcella, who stood stiffly behind the café counter. It was a good thing Grimes wasn’t looking at her because her eyes were wide with terror, her breathing shallow. I mouthed, “It’s okay,” and she nodded.

“I don’t think I know a Brutus,” my mother said doubtfully. “And what was the other name you mentioned?”

She raised her head. In profile, I saw her eyes widen. Her voice had changed entirely as she gasped, “You’re Gregory Grimes!”

Grimes leaned in closer to examine her, his face inches away. My mother shrank back with a cry as he growled, “You’re not my Marjorie.”

He half stood, fists clenched.

But before he could do anything else, I was there. Jamming the muzzle of the gun to the base of his neck, I said, “Remember me?”