Darkness Before the Dawn (Maggie Bennett 2)

“Keeping the door closed,” Maggie said wearily. “I don’t think this is going to work.”

“Why not? We can just go out to eat.”

“Kate, sooner or later—”

The sound of the doorbell shut Maggie’s mouth in mid-sentence. It was an elegant, melodious, old-fashioned doorbell, but it cut across their nerves like a buzz saw.

“Who could that be at this hour?” Maggie demanded finally. She shoved the chair under the refrigerator door handle to make sure it wouldn’t pop open and spill out its macabre contents.

“It’s only eight thirty, Maggie,” Kate said, her voice a thin thread of sound. “It only feels like midnight.”

“You’d better answer it.” The gentle chimes echoed in the kitchen once more.

“Me?” Kate shrieked. “I can’t, Maggie!”

“It’s your apartment. The doorman knows we’re here. We can’t just hide away and not answer. Besides, it might be the baby-sitter.”

“Oh, God,” Kate moaned. She stumbled from the kitchen at a dead run. Maggie raced along behind her.

“Calm down, Kate. I just said it might be the baby-sitter. It’s probably someone selling Girl Scout cookies,” Maggie said. She caught Kate’s shoulder just as they reached the door. She turned Kate around and shook her with just enough force to make her sister’s eyes open wide. “I said calm down. If we’re going to carry this off, you’re going to have to get hold of yourself.” She gave her another shake for good measure. “Okay?”

Kate took a deep, shuddering breath. The doorbell rang again. Maggie could feel the tension run through her like a live current, but Kate’s usual strength of will had taken over. “Okay,” she said, and turned to look through the peephole. And then she sank down onto the carpet in the hall. “Help me, Maggie,” she said with a note of desperation in her voice. “It’s Brian.”

The gentle doorbell sound had deteriorated into a loud knocking. It was followed by the charming voice that had fooled more than one susceptible woman, but that had never fooled Maggie. “I know you’re in there, Kate. Come on, don’t be a child. Let me in.”

Maggie grabbed Kate’s wrist and hauled her upright. “If you make it through this,” she hissed, “you’ll make it through anything. Don’t let Brian win, Kate.”

“Kate, I know you’re in there,” Brian continued. His voice was definitely becoming edgy. “If you don’t let me in, I’ll have the doorman do it. Old Fred’s always had a soft spot for me, and you know he’d do it in a flash.”

Slowly, Kate pushed her tangled hair back from her pale, sweating face. Her eyes were still wide and shocked, and her hands were trembling slightly. “Hold your horses, Brian,” she called out, and her voice sounde

d calm and prosaic. “You pick the damnedest times for social calls.” She took her time fumbling with the locks, and when she finally opened the door, there was a spot of color in either cheek, and to Maggie’s amazement, Kate simply looked tired and angry—not as if she’d spent the last hour throwing up and moving a corpse into her refrigerator.

“It’s about time!” Brian strode into the apartment, but he stopped short when he caught sight of Maggie. He was a good-looking man, and he knew it; he was a charming man, and he used it. It had always driven him crazy that Maggie hadn’t fallen prey to his charm. He immediately smiled his best smile at Maggie, bringing all his perfect teeth into play. “Maggie, how are you? You look terrific.”

She stood still for the wet-mouthed embrace she knew was coming. Brian had an almost pathological disregard for the trouble he caused. Not for one moment did he consider that the mudslinging custody battle he’d initiated dimmed his welcome from his ex-sister-in-law. Rudeness on her part didn’t make it sink in; ignoring him didn’t help, either. So Maggie stood still and let him reach up and slobber on her chin. She moved away as soon as his grip had slackened.

“What do you want, Brian?” Kate demanded from her post by the doorway. “We’re going back to court on Friday. Don’t you think this is an odd time for a social call?”

“It isn’t a social call. I came to see my daughter,” he said with quiet dignity that he’d perfected long before.

“Tough. You can’t see her till this is settled. You know that perfectly well. I don’t want her in the middle of this mess.”

“You always were a little pedant, Kate,” he said. “I miss Chrissie. Can’t you loosen up just long enough for me to say hi?”

“Chrissie’s not here,” Maggie said, noting the look of panic that briefly swept through Kate’s clear brown eyes. “We took her to the baby-sitter’s so we could have a chance to talk.”

“Why can’t you talk with the baby around?” Brian asked with a suspicious tone in his voice.

Maggie stared at him, a chilly, savage stare that had always intimidated Brian and did so now. “Because I needed to talk about … Mack—” She deliberately let her voice break. “And we didn’t think Chrissie needed to see her aunt Maggie so upset. You know she cries when other people cry.”

Brian looked at her skeptically. “Come off it, Maggie. Superwomen don’t cry.”

Francis Ackroyd almost got company in the refrigerator. Maggie felt her hands clench into fists, but she stood very still and let the rage wash over her and through her. “Good-bye, Brian,” she said calmly.

“Aren’t you going to offer me a drink?” he demanded.

“No,” Kate snapped.