Protect Me, Love Part 11

"Samuel was a nut for nature, so much so I can't imagine he isn't still into it. He collected pieces of wood and stones he thought had interesting shapes. He kept a lot of plants, too. He had a natural talent for making them grow, and he loved to take care of them. There were no plants Or nature specimens in what we saw of that apartment, and I'm willing to wager there are none in the rest of it, either."

"Maybe he lost interest in that stuff."

"Maybe, except that it was more than an interest with Samuel. It was his pa.s.sion."

Nick was still leaning close, watching her. He probably could see skepticism in her eyes. " "Do you have that letter?" he asked.

"What?" She didn't get what he was talking about right away.

"The letter we found at Penelope's that was supposed to have come from Samuel."

She thought for a moment, then reached into the pocket of her coat, which she'd flung over the booth back next to her. She took out the crumpled envelope. "Here it is," she said.

Nick took the envelope out of her hand and looked it over.

"See," he said. "Just like I thought I remembered. The return address isn't written out in longhand like the rest. It's just a printed label. There are stationery stores and office places in this town that will stamp these things out for you while you wait. Anybody could have had this label made and put it on here to look like Samuel was living at that address."

Delia snorted and shook her head. "You're really desperate to come up with a way to make it look like my brother isn't behind this thing, aren't you?"

Nick had his mouth open and a look on his face that made her almost certain he was about to launch into a defense of his theory when the front door to the diner burst open and a hefty guy in a bright green down parka charged in.

"Happy Christmas Eve day, everybody," he shouted.

The cashier by the door smiled wryly. "Same to you, Jimmy," she said.

Delia shot up out of the booth and grabbed her coat, nearly sweeping the plate of untouched breakfast off the table.

"I have to go," she said. "There's something I promised to do today, and I have to do it."

How could she have lost track of such an important occasion as Christmas Eve day? She really had been taken out of herself by all that'd been happening to her lately.

"You can come along if you like," she said to Nick, who was still sitting in the booth with his mouth open.

She turned on her heel and headed for the door almost too quickly to let herself think that he just might be right about the envelope.

Or of THE DST places Nick wanted them to head for right now was Hester Street. He'd argued with Delia about that half the way down there, including through the stop at Gramercy Park, which he also didn't want to make. Then he gave up. He'd always thought of himself as a persuasive man, but he was no match for her stubbornness. She insisted she had obligations and refused to listen to his objections, and that was that. He'd never known a woman, or maybe anybody at all, who could make him so exasperated. The last time she was in this neighborhood, somebody tried to run her over with a car. What could she be in for now? Maybe a sniper out to shoot her in the head? That thought, and the way it rang through to Nick as a real possibility, sent his hand to the back of his waistband to a.s.sure himself his hardware was still there and at the ready.

Delia came across as a piece of hardware herself sometimes, like now when she was determined to have things her own way. She also still believed Samuel could be behind all of this. Her insistence on that almost had Nick considering the possibility she could he right. At least, Samuel might be one of the possible suspects, along with Tobias Wren, who appeared to have dropped out of sight. There was also the not-so-incredible theory that Delia's tormentor came from right here on Hester Street. A smart woman like her should know that could be true, but she didn't want to hear about it. Nick, on the other hand, was well aware that this settlement house was full of repeat offenders, substance abusers and, most significantly, people who were down on their luck and close to desperate. That added up to strong motive in Nick's book.

"Motive for what?" Delia asked.

They were on their way up the steps to the front door of the settlement house main building. They'd been at the diner during late lunch hour, even though they'd ordered breakfast. The ride down here with a stop in between had taken nearly two hours. It was now going on the end of afternoon. The sky was already turning dark, maybe with the chance of more snow. The lights had been turned on over the door. Two fellows were on ladders on each side of the doorway, stringing lights and garland. Nick's guess was that they'd deliberately waited fill Christmas Eve, the last minute, to do the outdoor decorating. Otherwise in a neighborhood like this one, the decorations were liable to get stolen before the holiday came around.

"Motive for knocking over a lady from uptown and picking her pockets clean," he said in answer to Delia. "Who do you think would do that?"

Another naive question. Nick sighed. "Jaycee and her friends are one possibility."

"And where do you think she parks her late-model sedan while she's living on the streets?"

Delia had a point. Jaycee and her gang weren't likely to own a car like the one that tried to run Delia down. Still, there were other possibilities.

"People like this sell information all the time. Maybe whoever's aft you got to somebody here and put them on the payroll."

Nick had opened the front door for Delia to pa.s.s through. When he looked up, he noticed the guys on the ladder were giving him the evil eye. They must have heard what he said. He told himself he didn't care. He knew he had a cop's suspicion of street people and the like. Though he knew that was a prejudice, he also be-lie red he was justified in thinking the way he did. That's why he checked up and down the street for lurking characters, and vehicles, too, before following Delia inside. He avoided the hostile stares of the guys on the ladders. They'd probably made him for a cop type by now. That meant he and they were natural enemies, or at least on opposite sides of a very important line. Nick felt like telling them that he liked being on Hester Street even less than they wanted him here, but he kept his mouth shut.

Delia didn't head left toward the cla.s.srooms as she had the other day. She turned right along a wide corridor where kids were draping handmade paper chains over the tops of the bulletin boards and in doorways. For a moment the red and green construction paper loops strung together reminded Nick of his own childhood. He was a little surprised to see they still made paper chains. Some things about holiday time and kids must stay the same always. He reminded himself not to get too nostalgic about that.

The activity in the corridor grew even more intense as they approached a wide doorway. Delia pushed the latch bar on one of the double doors and hurried through. Once again she was bustling along too fast to let Nick move in front at point position where he could check out what she might be getting herself to. He had to content himself with rear guard for now, with checking the corridor before following her through the double doors. He was almost disgruntled to see a totally unthreatening scene of children and adults alike scurrying about in preparation for Christmas. But, no matter how innocent this place might appear on the surface, he intended to keep on his toes. With that resolve in mind, he wasn't too pleased to find Delia inside the settlement house's huge recreation hall nearly engulfed by a hug from Jaycee.

The hall was as busy as the corridor had been. Red and green crepe paper streamers had been strung in a canopy over rows of long tables covered with white paper tablecloths decorated with children's holiday drawings in crayon. As he strode past one of those tables, Nick recognized the same kind of stick figure family he'd drawn himself as a child. The mother, father and children were holding hands between a Christmas tree and a fireplace with stockings hung at the mantel. Nick wondered how many of the children who came to this place had ever actually experienced such an idyllic scene in their own lives. The thought couldn't help but touch his heart with a pang of compa.s.sion. All the same, he hurried across the rec hall toward Delia.

They'd stopped at Gramercy Park on the way down here so she could pick up a huge bag of gift she'd stashed in her apartment. Nick had been dead set against doing that, but once again she wouldn't listen. His frustration level had been over the top from then on. When she'd insisted on carrying the bag of gifts herself, he'd shrugged and let her do it. Now, Jaycee was directing Delia toward the evergreen tree at the other end of the hall. She hurried toward it with Jaycee in her wake and Nick not far behind but at enough of a distance so he could survey the room and Delia at the same time.

She unloaded a pile of brightly wrapped packages and arranged them under the tree that was hung with more paper chains and strings of popcorn, too. In fact, all of the decorations on the tree looked to be handmade. Nick couldn't help remembering the elaborate trees in the lobby of the Waldorf Astoria and thinking how much more like a real Christmas this one here looked. There he was, in danger once again of turning to holiday mush, until a glimpse of Delia's face rehardened his resolve.

Jaycce had been poking around among the tree branches while the pile of gifts was being stacked underneath. Finally, she'd pulled an envelope out, the square kind that holiday cards come in. She handed the envelope to Delia. Nick was instantly reminded of the card she'd picked up at her mail service office and what turned out to be written inside. He watched as she slipped her finger under the envelope flap and tore it open. He'd been right. It was a card. She didn't appear to pay much attention to what was on the outside. She flipped the card open almost instantly and read what was inside. It was his glimpse of her face at that moment that sent Nick hurrying toward her.

"What is it?" he asked, trying to keep his voice calmer than he was feeling.

She swept past him, shaking her head as if to indicate that she couldn't answer right now as she headed toward the door out of the recreation hall.

"Where are you going?" he called after her, taking long strides to keep up with her near-run.

Once again she didn't answer. They were outside the settlement house, down Hester Street and into yet another taxi before Nick found out that they were headed back uptown.

Chapter Twenty-One.

All Delia could think about was getting this over with. The card Promised that. "Meet me tonight," it said, "and all will be revealed. Nopolice, or you're the one they will be taking away." The scrawl could be Samuel's, or somebody trying to make her think it was Samuel. She didn't know which it might be. Right now she wasn't even sure she cared. She just wanted the tension to be finished, no more hiding out or being chased or running from one place to the next to keep from being found out. Her life had to settle itself, one way or the other. Either she'd be free at last or on her way to prison or maybe even dead. Whatever happened, she had to find some measure of peace. Something told her that following the instructions on this latest card would allow her that.

She had mixed feelings about dragging Nick along for this last act.

After all, she didn't know what the ending would be. If she was on her way to inevitable defeat, she didn't want him to suffer that fate with her. Whatever doubts she might have about a future with him, she cared very much about his safety and happiness. She cared very much about him in general. She wouldn't want anything to hurt him ever, especially not because of her. On the other hand, she wasn't too proud to admit she was frightened of what might lie ahead tonight, and after tonight, as well. She needed Nick, by her side and on her side, and she knew it. There was no getting rid of him anyway. He'd attached himself to her like a shadow. That was his job for now. She would have liked to think about whether or not that attachment might last beyond this bodyguard a.s.signment, but there wasn't time for that. She told the cabdriver to let them off at West End Avenue between Sixty-third and Sixty-fourth streets, as the note on the card had directed "What are we doing here?" Nick asked.

He'd tried to get her to answer his questions during the ride uptown, but she'd only shaken her head at him and stared out the window till he stopped asking. She felt she did owe him an answer now.

"We're getting to the bottom of things," she said. "Could you be more specific?"

Nick had paid the cabbie who then sped immediately away. This was not a neighborhood to hang around in after dark despite attempts to gentrify the area with an upscale high-rise apartment building and a park in the next block. The vacant lot in front of them was desolate and dark except for some spillover light from lamps in the small park. Even that light was obscured by the huge tufts of snow that had begun falling as Delia and Nick traveled from Hester Street.

"How long is this silent treatment going to last?" Nick asked when she didn't respond to his previous question.

Was that what he thought she was doing? Freezing him out with silence? Maybe he was right, though she longed to fly into his arms. She'd clasp him close to whisper, "My darling, my sweet darling," in his ear and pray for those tremulous words to convey everythinga"her years of loneliness, her limbo life between Rebecca Lester and Delia Barry, her desperate need to have all of that ended once and forever. What she uttered instead was much les, expressive but all she could manage at the moment.

"Everything will be revealed," she said quietly. "What?"

She spoke louder. "The card from Hester Street said all would be revealed if I came to this place tonight." "Here?"

Nick looked up and down the block. There wasn't a soul in sight.

"Here," Delia said, and headed into the vacant lot. She'd made it only a few steps before Nick grabbed her arm.

"Do you know how crazy this is?" he demanded. "Please, don't shout at me." "I'm sorry."

He sounded desperate and kept his grip on her arm. She wished she could explain her own desperation. She hadn't the heart for that now. She had to save all of herself for whatever awaited her beyond this empty lot. She started walking again. For a moment he managed to prevent her from moving out of his arm's reach, but she continued to strain against that.

"You have to have your way, don't you," he said. "In this, yes." She strained harder.

"If I don't let you walk into this trap now, then you'll walk into the next one without me."

"That's right," she said.

His grip hadn't loosened, not even from her tugging at it with all her strength. Still she had the feeling she was close to prevailing, at least for now. A few seconds later that proved true. Nick shrugged and released her al'ffl.

"You might as well go ahead, then," he said. "At least I'm with you now."

She longed to tell him that having him With her was all she really wanted, but she only nodded. This time, as she began walking again, Nick was at her side. He still hadn't let go of her arm.

"Where are we, anyway?" he asked. "Do you know ? " "

"Vaguely," she said. "We're headed into what used to be a train yard."

"An abandoned rail yard. That sounds just per-feet," Nick said in a sarcastic tone.

Delia had no defense to offer against the obvious foolhardiness of what she was doing. She simply walked on with Nick beside her and wished for two thingsa"that her life as she'd lived it these past five alienated years would be history at last and that Nick wouldn't be hurt in the bargain. They were well into the deserted lot now, past the back edge of the adjacent park and picking their way among snow-covered mounds of heaven knew what. A figure emerged from the snowy veil of deepening darkness. Delia couldn't tell who it might be, or even if it was a man or a woman, until he turned on the flashlight in his hand and pointed it upward beneath his chin.

He'd looked scary enough in the stairwell of the Waldorf with his eyes blazing crazily down at her. He'd chilled her heart again earlier today, the way he'd grit-ted his teeth and snarled at Nick as they'd struggled for the gun in that apartment that might or might not have been her brother's. However frightening this man had been those other times, he was much more so now as the'

flashlight beam cast his sneering face in eerie shadows and ghostly light.

Nick slipped a step backward and slightly behind Delia. She might have been surprised that he didn't jump in front to shield her instead, but she could feel him reaching behind him for his gun while her body kept the man with the flashlight from seeing what was going on. Then the light beam was suddenly full on Nick and Delia. She blinked and raised her arm as if to ward off the blinding brightness. Actually, she intended that movement to be a distraction from what Nick was doing.

"Drop it, Avery."

The female voice came from behind them. Delia had heard it before. She was almost certain of that, but she couldn't place where. She turned to look over her shoulder.

"Eyes front and hands up, both of you," the voice barked. "You'll see me soon enough." "Do you want me to give you my gun or put up my hands? I can't do both."

Delia guessed that Nick was stalling for time. His mind had to be spinning as fast as hers in search of a way out of this mess she'd walked them into. An armed maniac in front of them, a woman barking orders behind them and Nick about to lose his only weapon. Delia wished she'd given him time to find that second gun before she'd raced them off Riverside Drive.

"Put up your hands, and I'll get the gun," the woman was saying as Delia felt Nick move ever so slightly. She readied herself to follow his lead. "None of that, smart guy."

A thud accompanied the voice this time, and Nick groaned as he fell to the ground. Delia clamped her hand over her mouth to stop her scream. The woman behind them had struck Nick with something hard enough to knock him out. Delia bent to help him.

"Stay where you are," the woman growled, setting off that flicker of memory in Delia's brain once more. "I never did trust Mr. Avery. He was always too much of a white knight for his own good."

She knew Nick. The flicker of memory grew stronger. "I never trusted you, either, Rebecca. Or should I call you Delia?" The woman stepped around from behind, but it. was too dark to see her clearly. "Put some light on the subject, Max. Miss Delia, Rebecca, whatever "her name may be, is dying to see who I am. Or pretty close to dying, that is."

Max, the man with the crazy eyes, moved forward a few feet and directed the flashlight beam on the face of the woman standing in front of Delia. She studied that facea"attractive, even-featured, maybe too much so. Delia still couldn't make the connection.

"You're not the only one who can make herself over," the mystery woman said. "Except that I made some more extensive changes. It's amazing what a good plastic surgeon can do."

She laughed then, and the memory chips clicked together for Delia at last.

"Ca.s.sandra?" she asked.

"Speaking of people who are close to dying. I'm supposed to have been dead for going on nine years now." "

Delia was still having difficulty figuring out what was going on. "But you were in the helicopter with my father."

"Obviously, I wasn't."

"They found your body in the wreckage."

"They found a body. Same height, approximately the same build and age. Easy enough to find on the same streets I was wandering before your dear daddy decided to rescue me."

More memories slid into place. There'd been rumors all those years ago about Edward Lester's much younger bride. Delia hadn't paid much attention. She'd only cared that her father was happy, and devoting himself to Ca.s.sandra seemed to make him so.

"You probably heard Tobias and Penelope talking about me," this new version of Ca.s.sandra went on. Her voice was full and confident, even commanding, nothing like the timid young thing Delia remembered. "The Wrens didn't approve of me. They thought I was only out for what I could get. They were right, of course."

Delia fought to think her way through the confusion.

"It was a fair trade actually," Ca.s.sandra said. "Your father got a protege to mold into his version of the perfect woman. There was no chance of his ever being able to do that with his darling daughter. You were too headstrong. I, on the other hand, was more than willing to be molded. I was n.o.body going nowhere when he came along. He taught me everything I needed to know to become somebody. How to dress, what to read, what to like, even what to think."

A corner of the picture began to come clearer for Delia. The portraits on that living room wall this morning. The study that looked so much like her father's.

"That's your apartment up on Riverside Drive, isn't it?" she said.

"Good for you. You're starting to put it together."

hand over her mouth to stop her scream. The woman behind them had struck Nick with something hard enough to knock him out. Delia bent to help him.

"Stay where you are," the woman growled, setting off that flicker of memory in Delia's brain once more. "I never did trust Mr. Avery. He was always too much of a white knight for his own good."

She knew Nick. The flicker of memory gtv stronger. "I never trusted you, either, Rebecca. Or should I call you Delia?" The woman stepped around from behind, but it was too dark to see her clearly. "Put some light on the subject, Max. Miss Delia, Rebecca, whatever her name may be, is dying to see who I am. Or pretty close to dying, that is."

Max, the man with the crazy eyes, moved forward a few feet and directed the flashlight beam on the face of the woman standing in front of Delia. She studied that facea"attractive, even-featured, maybe too much so. Delia still couldn't make the connection.

"You're not the only one who can make herself over," the mystery woman said. "Except that I made some more extensive changes. It's amazing what a good plastic surgeon can do."

She laughed then, and the memory chips clicked together for Delia at last.

"Ca.s.sandra?" she asked.