Promise Not To Tell(92)

“She looks weak. No wonder Zane was able to manipulate her. Where is the embroidery with the name of the bank and the account number?”

“On the left. See the framed wall hanging? That’s your name at the top. The smaller stitching contains some of the information you need to claim your inheritance. The rest is on the second portrait.”

Kate leaned forward eagerly, trying to read the lettering on the embroidery.

It was, Virginia decided, the only chance that she and Jessica were going to get. She released her grip on the painting. It started to topple forward.

Kate yelped in dismay. Instinctively, she reached out with her free hand to catch the canvas before it could fall to the floor.

Virginia slammed the paperweight in a short arc, aiming for the side of Kate’s head.

Sensing the sudden movement, Kate started to turn, trying to duck and scramble out of reach at the same time. Her hand tightened on the gun. She got off a shot just as the paperweight struck.

The roar was deafening. Virginia was vaguely aware that the world had gone eerily silent and that something was terribly wrong with the right side of her waist, but there was no time to process the information. Not that she could think rationally, anyway. She was on fire with a wild, elemental fury.

It was as if the anger and frustration generated by years of nightmares and anxiety attacks had been channeled into this moment of cathartic violence.

Revenge was all now. She was no longer fighting only to defend Jessica and herself. She wanted to maim, punish and destroy the woman who had helped drag all the darkness of the past into the present. She did not care if she died in the battle. It only mattered that Kate Delbridge died with her.

The paperweight had found its mark, but because Kate had been partially turned at the instant of impact, the heavy glass ball had struck only a glancing blow on the side of her head – hard enough to draw blood and send her staggering but not hard enough to take her down.

She struggled to catch her balance and aim the gun at the same time. But by then Virginia was charging straight into her. The violent impact took them both down. Kate landed on the bottom.

Virginia managed to get both hands around Kate’s forearm and wrench it aside just as the gun roared a second time. Kate screamed as Virginia smashed her arm again and again against the floor.

Kate screeched and finally lost her grip on the weapon. The pistol skittered across the floor.

“I’ve got it,” Jessica shouted. “I’ve got the gun.”

Somewhere a door crashed open. Virginia heard footsteps pounding across the floor but she ignored them. Kate was clawing at her, yelling in a panic-stricken voice.

“Get her off me. Get her off me. She’s crazy.”

And then strong hands were reaching down to hoist Virginia to her feet.

“It’s all right,” Cabot said. He braced her with a strong arm around her shoulders. “Everything is under control. You’re safe. Jessica is safe. You can stand down now. It’s over.”

Virginia saw Anson moving forward to take charge of Kate. He glanced at Jessica.

“Give the gun to Cabot and then call nine-one-one,” he ordered.

“Yes,” Jessica gasped. “Right.”

Cabot kept one arm around Virginia and reached out with his free hand to take the gun.

Virginia looked at Jessica.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yes,” Jessica said. She fumbled with her phone. “I’m okay.” She stared at Virginia, eyes widening. “But you’re not.”

“What?”

Confused, Virginia looked down. There was a rip on the right side of her gray cashmere sweater. A dark, wet stain was starting to spread. She was suddenly aware of the pain.

“Oh,” she said. Her head swam. “Oh, hell.”

“Shit,” Cabot said. “Jessica, tell the operator we need an ambulance. Now.”

“Yes,” Jessica said. She concentrated on her phone.

Virginia was vaguely aware of Cabot lowering her down on the floor and pulling up her sweater. Jessica knelt beside him and handed him the wadded-up cloth cover that had been used to cover the portrait of Abigail Watkins.

“Is she going to be all right?” Jessica asked.

“Yes,” Cabot said. He clamped the makeshift bandage over the wound. “She’s going to be fine.”

For some reason Virginia found the forcefulness of his words amusing.

“Thought you said handguns aren’t very accurate,” she said.

“Not over distance,” Cabot said. “They work just fine when your target is only a couple of feet away.” He raised his voice. “Where the hell is that ambulance?”

“On the way,” Anson said. “Hear the siren?”

Cabot looked down at Virginia. “Don’t you dare faint on me.”

“I have never fainted in my life,” Virginia said.

“Hold that thought.”

Virginia thought she heard a door open, and then there were more voices and a lot of commotion in the back room.

The world was starting to spin. Virginia wondered somewhat disinterestedly if she was dying. If that was the case, there was something important that she needed to say to Cabot.

“I love you,” she said.

“Good to know,” he said. “Because I love you, too.”