The FBI Thrillers Collection(120)

“Amabel, why do you have him here with you? He’s a murderer. He’s a traitor to our country.”

Amabel sat down beside her. Her fingertips were light and soft as they drifted over Sally’s forehead, pushing her hair behind her ears, lightly smoothing her eyebrows.

“Amabel, please. When I was here before, I know it was him on the phone to me. He admitted that he’d looked in through the bedroom window.”

“Yes, dear.”

“Why was he here, Amabel?”

“He had to come here, Sally. He had to take you back to the sanitarium. He hoped to make you doubt your sanity with the phone calls and his face at the window.”

“But how could he possibly know I was even here?”

“I called him. He was staying at a small inn in Oklahoma City. He took the next plane to Portland, then drove here. But you knew even as you asked that question, didn’t you, Sally?

“Ah, but you didn’t doubt your sanity at all. That was due in part to Quinlan. That man. His being here made everything more difficult. Isn’t it strange? Quinlan made up that story about coming here to try to find a trace of those old folk? All he wanted was you. He didn’t care about any missing old people. Just you. He thought you’d either killed your father or were protecting your mother.

“I’ve always been amused by the ways of fate. Well, I’m not amused now. There are big problems now.”

“Now, Ammie, do you think it was fate that brought all those nice old people here to buy the World’s Greatest Ice Cream so you could then kill them and steal all their money?”

Amabel turned and frowned at him. “I don’t know, and neither do you, Amory. Now, I don’t care what happens to Quinlan and the others, but I don’t want Sally hurt.”

“He doesn’t agree with you, Aunt Amabel,” Sally said. “He hates me. You know he’s not my father. He has no latent tender feelings for me. As for my mother, did you know that he forced Noelle to stay with him?”

“Why, of course, Sally.”

Sally gaped at her. She couldn’t help it. On the other hand, why was she so surprised? Her world had flipped and turned more times in the past seven months than she could cope with. It seemed she’d never known who she really was or why things were the way they were. And she’d hated her mother for her weakness. Oh, God, she’d felt contempt for her, wanted to shake her herself for letting her husband knock her around.

“Who’s my father?”

“Now she wants to know,” Amory St. John said, as he strolled into the small bedroom, his hands in his pants pockets.

“Who?”

“Well, dear,” Amabel said, “actually your father was my husband. And yes, he was my husband before he met Noelle and the two of them fell in love—”

“In lust, you mean, Ammie.”

“That too. Anyway, Noelle was always rather stupid, and Carl wasn’t all that much of this earth himself. Knowing both of them as well as I did, I had difficulty figuring out who got whom into bed. But they must have managed it. She got pregnant. Fortunately she was seeing Amory at the time, and things got worked out to everyone’s satisfaction.”

“Not to my mother’s.”

“Oh, yes, she was thrilled that she wouldn’t have to abort you, Sally. She would have, of course, if it meant no husband as a cover.

“I brought my Carl out here to The Cove so he could paint and spend the rest of his meaningless little life doing landscape oils that sell at airport shows for twenty dollars, and that includes their vulgar gold-painted frames. Carl never roamed again. In fact, he begged my forgiveness, said he’d do anything if only I wouldn’t leave him. I let him do quite a bit before he died twenty years ago.”

“You didn’t kill him, did you?”

“Oh, no. Amory did that, but Carl was already very ill with lung cancer. He never would stop smoking unfiltered Camels. Yes, it was a blessing for Carl that his brakes failed, and he died so quickly. Thank you, Amory.”

“You’re welcome, Ammie.”

“So how long have you been lovers?”

Amabel laughed softly, turning to look at the man who was standing in the doorway. “A very long time,” she said.

“So you don’t mind him beating the shit out of you, Amabel?”

“No, Amory, don’t!” Amabel walked quickly to him and put her hand on his arm. She said over her shoulder, “Listen to me, Sally. Don’t talk like that. There’s no reason to make your father angry—”

“He’s not my father.”

“Nevertheless, mind your tongue. Of course he doesn’t hit me. Just Noelle.”