Page 153 of The High Tide Club
“Leave him,” Gabe barked. “The bastard tried to kill me twice.”
“No. He’ll bleed to death. He’s a crazy, sick old man. I can’t leave him like this.” Brooke looked up at Gabe. The warm, caring, courtly barrister had vanished, and in his place was this cold-eyed killer, ready to exact vengeance from anyone who crossed him.
“He killed Josephine,” Gabe said calmly. “He would have killed you too if it hadn’t been for me. Why do you think he lured you up here? You’re what’s standing between him and Josephine’s money.”
“No!” C. D. growled, trying in vain to sit up. “I never.”
Brooke pressed down on the wound, and C. D. moaned. She shook her head. “I don’t believe that. He could have killed me before you got here. He wouldn’t hurt me. He’s bleeding badly. You’ve got to go for help, Gabe. I’ll stay here with C. D., but you’ve got to get help.”
Gabe’s face as he stood over her was twisted with fury. “I tell you, he’s dangerous. And I’m not leaving you here with him. Let’s go,” he said abruptly, waving the gun at her.
“No,” Brooke reached for another shirt to stanch the flow of blood.
“Now, goddamn it!” Gabe slapped her hard with the flat of his hand, so hard her ears were ringing, so hard the band of his thick class ring cut a gash in her cheek. Stunned, she felt the warm trickle of blood down her face. He grabbed her arm and began dragging her toward the stairwell. He stepped off the landing and onto the next step, intent on bending her to his will.
Brooke looked down, and suddenly the endless, dizzying nautilus shell staircase spun beneath her feet. “No!” she screamed as the panic seized her and swallowed her whole. “Leave me alone.” She fell to the floor and grasped the iron handrail with both hands.
Gabe grasped her by the ankle, and she instinctively kicked out, catching him square in the gut. His face registered a momentary flash of shock before he toppled backward, down and down and down, the sickening thud of his falling body echoing in the brick stairwell.
***
Time stopped. She was conscious of crawling to C. D.’s side, of wadding up another shirt, pressing it to his shoulder. The old man was deathly quiet, his breathing shallow.
She reached for her cell phone. She had only half a bar. She tapped the number for the house phone at Shellhaven, but before the call could connect, the phone went dead. She had to go for help before C. D. bled to death. She tried to stand, but the floor swam beneath her feet.
“Brooke! Brooke!” Two distinct women’s voices floated up from below. “Are you up there? Are you okay?”
“I’m here,” she managed. “We need help.”
Their footsteps pounded on the wooden steps, pausing only when they’d reached the lawyer’s body, corkscrewed across the stairwell, his head resting at an unnatural angle.
“Oh my God!” Lizzie gasped.
Another moment and they were both on the landing, surveying the carnage before them—the blood, the forgotten pistol, and a barely conscious old man and his makeshift nurse, who was softly weeping.
“Get help,” Brooke croaked. “He’s been shot, and he’s lost a lot of blood.”
“The sheriff is on the way,” Lizzie said.
Felicia gently pried Brooke’s hands from C. D.’s shoulder. “Let me do this,” she said. She gingerly lifted the shirt, blanching at the sight. “The bleeding seems to have stopped.”
“Gabe,” Brooke said, her throat dry. “Is he…”
“Dead?”
Lizzie and Felicia exchanged a look that confirmed Brooke’s worst fears.
“I killed him,” Brooke whispered. “I did this. After he shot C. D., Gabe was trying to get me to leave. But I couldn’t leave C. D. And then, I looked down,and the stairs.” She shuddered. “Dizzy. I nearly blacked out. I couldn’t move. The nausea. He hit me. And then he started to drag me down those stairs. I just couldn’t. I could feel myself falling. So I kicked him.” She was weeping again. “I kicked him, and he fell backward, down the stairs. I didn’t mean to, but I killed him.”
“Hush.” Felicia wrapped her arms around Brooke. “Don’t talk.”
They heard cars approaching. Lizzie looked out the windows. “Sheriff’s here. He’s got a deputy and Shug with him. I’d better go down there and tell them we need a stretcher, for C. D.”
“And a body bag for Gabe Wynant,” Felicia said.
“They’ll arrest me for murder. I’m going to prison. And Henry. My Henry…” Brooke buried her face in her hands.
“You’re not going anywhere,” Felicia said. “It was self-defense, right, Lizzie?”
