He kept the gun on her as he paced a couple of steps back and forth, thinking. His anger was turning into panic.
“If you’d just gone to the park quietly … Now I have to figure out how to do this. It was all going to be so easy. Your two friends are waiting about a mile from here. All I had to do was hand you over. They’d do the rest.”
Lyra was trembling and desperately trying to stay calm. Her mind raced from one crazy idea to another to get that gun away from him. And still live to tell about it. She could see the turmoil inside him. His scheme hadn’t gone as planned, and now he had to scramble for a new one. All she could think to do was to keep him talking.
“What friends?”
“The men Flynn sent to your apartment. You pepper-sprayed one of them, and he can’t wait to see you again.”
Lyra was confused. “You sent Flynn’s men after me? What does this have to do with Frank Merriam?” None of this was making sense.
“Who the hell is Frank Merriam? All I know is that if Flynn’s thugs could have found those pictures in your apartment, this would be over. When the pictures weren’t there, I couldn’t take a chance you or anyone else could see them. I had to let Flynn call the shots after that. He’s not going to help me out again.” He looked at her resentfully. “I wasted my favor on a damned student.”
He picked up his cell phone and pushed some numbers while keeping an eye on her. Lyra thought if he would just stretch his arm out a little more, she could knock the gun out of his hand.
The phone was up to his ear. “She’s not cooperating. You’ll have to come and get her. Campus should be cleared out by now. Come in the back door on the lower level.”
Lyra couldn’t just sit there and wait to get dragged outside. If she didn’t do something soon, it would be three armed men against her.
THERE WERE TWO ENTRANCES into Mahler’s office. The door facing the hall, which the students were encouraged to use, and the private entrance through the classroom.
Sam tore into the building and ran up two flights of steps. The building was empty and when he came to the hallway to Mahler’s office, he slowed down. He moved quietly past the first door, then another and another until he reached Mahler’s door. His name, like all the professors’ names, was etched on the glass. The window shade was pulled down. Sam knew before he tried the door that it was locked.
He could hear Mahler talking. His voice was loud and angry. But there was more to it, a hysterical pitch. Mahler was breaking down, which meant the least little thing could set him off. Sam was certain Lyra was inside, but he needed to hear her voice so that he would know she was all right. It made him crazy to consider any other possibility.
He flipped his gun safety off as he ducked down to get to the classroom door. It was closed, so he quietly turned the knob and slowly pushed it open a couple of inches. Mahler stood in profile, but Sam saw the gun. He knew Lyra must be on the other side of the desk. Since Mahler kept his gun on her, she was alive and conscious.
Mahler was agitated and moving back and forth. Sam couldn’t get a clear shot. Any thought of getting the angle he needed without being seen was futile.
He heard heavy footsteps. They sounded as though they were coming from the stairwell. Two men were arguing. Their voices were becoming more distinct as they climbed the stairs, but they were speaking in such hushed tones, he could only catch a few words. He heard one of them complaining about having to dig up something and move it so it wouldn’t be found. The other agreed it was a lousy job.
Their voices became clearer as they got closer. “We’re grave diggers is what we are. And now we’ve got to dig two new graves if we’re going to dig up the wife’s body and move it,” one whispered.
“I brought some pepper spray just for her. Let the bitch know what it feels like.”
Sam couldn’t wait any longer. He went back to Mahler’s office door and knocked.
Mahler didn’t answer at first, and then cautiously said, “Who is it?”
Sam didn’t answer.
“Lyra, go open the door, and don’t try anything or you’ll be getting a bullet in your back,” Mahler ordered.
“No.”
“Get up and open the door,” he demanded.
Sam kept his eye on the door to the stairwell. The two men should be stepping out any second.
Lyra screamed back. “No, I’m not getting up.”
“Bitch,” Mahler muttered. He kept his eyes on her as he edged around her chair and backed toward the door, his left hand reaching for the lock.
Sam used all his might and kicked in the door, sending Mahler flying. He landed on the floor beside his desk. Lyra leapt up and ran to get Mahler’s gun, but he scrambled forward and got there first. When Mahler rolled on his back and aimed the barrel at Sam, Lyra sprang at him. Mahler swung the gun toward her, and a shot rang out. The bullet from Sam’s gun struck Mahler in his throat, severing his carotid artery. He fell to the floor with blood pooling around him.
Lyra shook uncontrollably. “Sam.” She called his name, but her voice was so faint he couldn’t hear.
He wasn’t looking at her. He lifted the door and propped it in the opening. Then he grabbed a chair and pushed it against the propped door to hold it. The glass was cracked but still intact. Sam pulled the torn shade down as the footsteps pounded in the hallway. The men outside had heard the shot and were running toward Mahler’s office. Two large file cabinets stood against the wall next to the door. Sam grabbed Lyra and pushed her into the corner, hidden by the cabinets. He stood in front of her, pushing her back even farther.
Just as Sam hoped, the men kicked down the door and started shooting even before they rushed in. They aimed at the desk in front of them, riddling it with bullets. “You check, make sure you got her.”
“Oh, I got her,” the other boasted.
“I’m still squirting pepper spray in her eyes.”
“Drop the guns!” Sam ordered from behind.
The vengeful thug whirled around, and Sam shot the gun from his hand. His friend ducked down behind the desk, but his arm came around the side to shoot wildly. Sam shot him in the shoulder, forcing him to drop the gun.
After Sam kicked the guns away from the injured men, Lyra collected them and put them on the desk. She added Mahler’s gun to the collection.
One of their attackers was now screaming that he would never use his hand again.
“Your shooting hand?” Sam asked casually. “That’d be a real shame.”
Lyra was watching the other man. He had a bullet in his shoulder, but he remained stone-faced. Of the two, she thought he was the more dangerous. She heard footsteps pounding toward them and turned around. Sam had stepped into the hallway and was holding his badge up for the three approaching policemen to see.
Within minutes they were surrounded by police officers and paramedics. Lyra stood in the corner of the tiny office so they could get past her. Her racing heart had finally slowed, and her hands were no longer shaking. She noticed her phone on the floor and remembered her 911 call. She picked it up and held it to her hear. “Is anyone there?”
“Yes, ma’am, we’re here.”
“Did you record all that? Did you get every word Mahler said?”
“Yes, ma’am, we sure did.” Lyra could hear a smile in her voice.
Detective O’Malley arrived on the scene, and Sam was filling him in on the details. She waited for Sam to say something to her, but he was preoccupied, acting as though he didn’t even see her. The door was blocked by people, so she went through the classroom and into the hall. She wondered why Sam had kept her in the office instead of running in this direction. She looked down the hallway and had her answer. If they had turned one way, they would have met a dead end. If they had turned the other, they would have run past the office, and the gunmen would have had an easy shot at them. She and Sam would never have made it to the exit. He had made a good call, she thought. By pushing her into that corner and then placing himself in front of her,
Sam had kept her alive.
Lyra thought she would have to give her account of what had happened at least two or three times, but only one policeman had any questions. He explained that the 911 operator had heard and recorded every word, so they knew exactly what had taken place. She was free to go home.
Sam was still talking to O’Malley, and she felt foolish waiting around. He had obviously put the pieces of the puzzle together and realized that Mahler was behind the horrible things that had been happening. If she stood there waiting for him, and he didn’t say anything more than, “Nice to see you again,” then what?
She wasn’t waiting. She didn’t even try to get her memory cards or her backpack. They were now part of the investigation. She tucked her phone in her pocket, turned around, and walked away.
She didn’t get far. She had just turned the corner in the hallway when she felt strong hands on her shoulders.
FORTY-ONE
SAM DIDN’T GIVE HER A CHANCE TO THANK HIM FOR SAVING HER LIFE.
“You scared the hell out of me, lass.” His voice shook with emotion, and his grip on her shoulders tightened. His brogue was so thick, he sounded as though he’d never left Scotland. Did he just call her “lass”?
Before she could say a word, he jerked her into his arms and hugged her fiercely. “Don’t you ever do that to me again.” She could barely understand a word he said. He was speaking English, wasn’t he?
The side of her face was pressed against his chest, and she heard his heart pounding. Lyra was still shaken from the ordeal she’d gone through, but in Sam’s strong arms, she was comforted.
“Promise me,” he demanded.
“Yes, whatever it is, I promise.”
He tilted her chin up and kissed her almost savagely. His tongue swept inside, and there was such passion in his kiss, such desperation.
Lyra didn’t resist. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and her fingers spread through his hair as she kissed him with equal fervor.
When he finally released her from his arms, he took her hand and began walking. “Let’s get out of here.” Calmer now, his brogue wasn’t as thick.
Outside, a crowd had gathered. Spotting the TV news vans parked across the quad, Sam muttered an expletive.
O’Malley rushed up behind them and said, “You need an escort out of here?”
“No,” Sam answered. “But you deal with them.” He motioned to the cameramen.
“Yeah, sure,” O’Malley said, and headed to intercept the reporters.
They had almost crossed the quad without being mobbed, but Carl spotted them and shouted Lyra’s name. Everyone who heard him ran toward Lyra and Sam.
“Is it true? Is Mahler dead?” Carl asked.
Lyra nodded, and Carl turned to Sam. “I know Mahler was a jerk, but we only had two more classes with him. Now what happens? You don’t think we’ll have to retake the entire class, do you?”
Before Lyra could answer, Eli said, “You couldn’t have waited until—” The look Sam shot him stopped him cold, and he hurried to get out of the way.
Sam didn’t say another word to Lyra until they reached her apartment.
“Pack something, and let’s get out of here.”
“No.”
“No?”
Sidney opened the door, shouted, “Oh my God,” and hugged Lyra. “You’re okay? Oh my God,” she repeated, but this time she threw herself into Sam’s arms. “I heard there was a shooting,” she said as she backed into the tiny living room so they could come inside. “I’ve gotten at least twenty texts, and I prayed it was you doing the shooting, Sam.”
“Lyra,” Sam said, “why don’t you pack a bag while I tell Sidney what happened.”
“No,” Lyra said again.
Sidney looked from one to the other, then scooped up her purse and keys. “I’ve got to run an errand. See you later.” And she was gone.
“Look what you’ve done,” Lyra said accusingly. “You made her leave her own home.”
Sam turned her toward him. “What’s the matter with you?”
“I’m not going anywhere with you, and let you leave me again. I won’t do it.”
“But I’m not leaving you. Not ever.”
The tenderness in his eyes made her believe him. Almost.
“Until when? Sam, I know you can’t let yourself be hurt again, and I understand. You loved your wife and you lost her. I wouldn’t want to go through that again either, but I—”
His kiss stopped her. He held her tighter still as he whispered in her ear. “I never want to be scared like I was today. I knew you were with Mahler, and I swear my heart stopped beating. Damn it, Lyra, I don’t want to live without you.” His hands cupped the sides of her face. “I love you, lass.”
The brogue was back full force. His voice was low, but she got the gist of what he was telling her.
“I can’t move in with you, Sam. Gigi would—”
“I guess I’ll have to marry you,” he said offhandedly.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
She pushed his hands away. “Have to marry me?”
He grabbed her before she could walk away. “When I have the ring, I’ll drop on one knee and propose officially, but know this, love: you are going to marry me.”
“My family … I won’t put that burden on you. I have responsibilities….”
“I know … to protect Gigi from her son. I can help with that.”
“And my parents … they’re always going to cause trouble. I can’t change them. I used to think I could, but—”
“Your brothers and I will help you with them.”
“Oh, God, my brothers. You won’t be good enough for me. That’s what they’ll say.”
“I’m not good enough for you, love, but I’m still marrying you.”
“Your parents are diplomats. Mine are con artists.”
Sam was slowly unbuttoning her blouse. She was nibbling on her lower lip while she was thinking about the differences between their families.
“I have money,” she said, a point in her favor.
Sam lifted her into his arms and carried her into the bedroom. He lowered her to her feet and slowly undressed her, pausing only long enough to shed his own clothes.
Lyra was breathless when she said, “If I have to, I’ll use all my money to fight those people. Honestly, my parents keep finding new lawyers….” Sam was kissing her neck.
He loved the way she smelled, the way she felt, everything about her.
“Lawyers are expensive….” she continued
“I know. I’m a lawyer,” he said as his kisses moved down her breasts.
Sam was driving her to distraction, and she couldn’t remember what she was trying to tell him.
They fell into bed and made love. Sam tried to take his time, but she became so demanding, he couldn’t hold back. When they had both climaxed and were content, she told him that she loved him, too.
Later, after they were dressed, Sam told her to expect to be hounded by reporters.
“Mahler’s class would have been my only one tomorrow. Since I won’t have that, I think I’d like to go home.”
“To San Diego?”
“Yes. Do you think the police need me to stay here?”
“No, I’ll talk to O’Malley.”
After writing a note for Sidney and packing a little bag, they were on their way. No traffic to speak of, and only after they had passed the exit that would have taken them to Paraiso Park did Lyra remember the camera that was still taking pictures.
“O’Malley will have a crew out there digging for Mahler’s wife’s body. I’m sure they’ll have to dig up that little garden, too.”
“My camera—”
“I told him where it was. He’ll get it for you.” He reached across the console and took hold of her hand. “I imagine Flynn’s been picked up for a nice long conversation,” he said.
“Will I get those yard sale books back?”
“Eventually. What
are you going to do with them?”
“I think I’ll have them auctioned for Father Henry’s church. They’re desperate for money. Bingo doesn’t pay the bills.”
He smiled. “You’ve got a good heart, Lyra Prescott.”
A few minutes passed in comfortable silence, and then she said, “I can’t believe it wasn’t the yard sale that started this. I was so sure people were trying to kill me because I’d taken something. I never would have suspected Mahler.”
“Look at it this way, if Merriam had known for sure you had the DVD, I’m sure he would have tried to kill you.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” She laughed.
“I should have homed in on Mahler sooner. I almost lost you, and I—”
“You got there in time,” she reminded him.
They talked about Mahler and his attempts to manipulate her away from photographing the park by steering her toward the children’s film competition.
“I guess I don’t have to rush to do the film now,” she said.
“Why not?”
“You shoot your professor, and it pretty much dooms your chances of his endorsing your film.”
“I’m sure as hell not sorry I shot him.”
“I’m not sorry either. You had no choice.”
When they were pulling into the garage at Gigi’s house, Lyra said, “Wait until you see the panic room.”
“It’s a real panic room?”
“One wall has metal reinforcement, so a bullet couldn’t get through, but only one wall. No reason to do any other. It works.”
Sam was impressed with the construction when he saw it. “You ever want to hide from relatives, this is the place.”
“I love this house. It’s comfortable.”
“We can keep it,” he promised her. “I might be able to transfer out here for a little while.”
“Then what?”
“We’ll get everything tied up, and then we’ll go home.”
Lyra liked the idea of keeping Gigi’s house. Her brothers would have a place to get away, and Gigi might want to come back for a vacation away from the Texas heat.
Gigi would be happy about the marriage. She had immediately taken to Sam, and she wouldn’t have to worry about her granddaughter any longer.