Part 34 (1/2)

I looked around for something to use as a weapon as Adrienne continued with her tirade. I could see childhood things in the unit: toys, games. It seemed she had kept everything Nick ever owned. And then, off to one side, I saw a hockey stick leaning against a box.

”What was it about Nick?” I asked, trying to keep her occupied. I pointed to a photo taped to the metal wall of the unit. ”What was different about him? Was he better looking than Nate?”

”I always knew he was,” Adrienne said. ”They were identical twins, but I could see a difference.” She was staring at the photos of Nick with a frenzied look in her eyes. ”See the slight widow's peak on Nick's forehead? The cleft chin? Nate doesn't have that. He's more . . . average. Nick had movie-star good looks. He was destined for greatness. Ahhh!” She choked back tears. ”And he was better. At everything. Better at sports, better at school and a superior actor. He could play anything. If he'd only had the chance.”

I looked at Nate. His head was down but his eyes were glaring at his mother with what? Stifled rage?

”You have quite a shrine here,” I said, moving toward the photos. And the hockey stick. I pointed to some of the photos on the wall. ”How do you feel about this, Nate?”

Nate looked up, surprised that someone had spoken to him.

”What do you think of this shrine?”

Connie watched me. There was no way I could communicate anything to her with my eyes, but hopefully she knew I would try to do something. If I didn't, we'd be dead.

The hockey stick was near Nate. I hoped it simply looked like I was approaching him and the photos. Adrienne was the biggest threat because she was in charge, but Nate was younger. He was the biggest physical threat to us. After all, he'd slugged Connie and tossed her into the vehicle.

I kept inching toward him.

I needed that hockey stick.

Chapter 62.

”Nate loved his brother!” Adrienne said.

”I'll bet he did, in the beginning,” I said. ”But I know what kind of resentment can build up between siblings when one is favored. Right, Nate?”

Nate looked at me and then at his mother but quickly turned his eyes downward. I moved closer to him.

”He understands what we have to do. For Nick's sake.”

It was quiet then. I didn't know if I should make a move or what.

”No, Mom, I don't understand.”

Adrienne's head whipped around as if she had never heard this son speak before.

”What did you say?” she spat.

It seemed that Nate having a neutral witness gave him some backbone. ”I've never understood. Why him and not me? Maybe if you had given me more attention, I could have been better at things, Mom. It was always Nick does this and Nick does that better. Nick . . . Nick . . . Nick!”

Connie was still watching me, breathing heavily through her nose, which, thankfully, had not been covered by the tape.

I still didn't feel I could s.n.a.t.c.h up the hockey stick in one move. Closer . . .

Then something occurred to me. ”So Nate, tell us why you kept that sc.r.a.pbook of all the murders, along with notes about your mother.”

”Sc.r.a.pbook?” Adrienne's head snapped back to me. ”What sc.r.a.pbook?”

Nate tossed me a look of betrayal and his mother one of pure fear. He started to shake his head. Obviously when she had searched Henri's apartment she hadn't known what she was searching for. She must have just been looking to see if there was anything there that could have led to Nate.

”The one Jakes and I found in Henri Marceau's apartment,” I said. ”You remember Henri, Adrienne? The hairdresser you killed?”

”That s.e.xual deviate?” she screamed, spittle flying from her mouth.

Just what I thought-a hot b.u.t.ton.

”How did Henri end up with it, Nate?” I asked. ”Were you and he good friends? Was he your lover?”

”Shut up, b.i.t.c.h!” Adrienne yelled at me. She'd stopped looking at Nate and was coming toward me.

”You should see it, Adrienne. Lots of pictures and special notes in red ink, all over the margins. Mom did it or This was Mom's fault,” I said, thinking on my feet, egging her on.

”My fault?” Adrienne turned to Nate and screamed, ”Anything good that you ever had, I gave you!”

”No, Mother! You took everything away from me, everything I loved!”

”You and that hairdresser? Nick never would have done anything that disgusting!” All of her attention was on Nate. Now that was all I needed.

I leaped for the hockey stick, wrapped both hands around it and swung. I wanted to hit Adrienne, but Nate was the closest and most logical target. I felt the impact to his head, and a pain so horrible went running up from my hand all the way to my arm.

”b.i.t.c.h!” Adrienne screamed.

I turned quickly, holding the stick ready, but she had dashed to the other wall, grabbed her purse and come out with a silver gun. d.a.m.n it! A hockey stick against a gun . . . and suddenly I was thinking about Sarah.

”No!” I shouted. I dropped the stick, but before I could move, Connie rolled over and bowled Adrienne's feet out from under her. She fell heavily on top of Connie, the gun skittering across the floor toward me. Even before it stopped I slapped it with the hockey stick. A perfect shot! It went flying out the door into the night . . . right past Jakes!

He stood in the doorway of the unit, gun in hand, and then moved quickly, pulling Adrienne off Connie and yanking her to her feet.

Nate was on the floor, bleeding from the head.

I ran to Connie, rolled her over and pulled the tape from her mouth. ”Are you all right?”

She spat and then yelled, ”That crazy old b.i.t.c.h! I think she broke my arm!”

I looked at Jakes, who said to me flatly, ”I can't leave you alone for a minute, can I?”

Chapter 63.