"You remember when Prentice died . . . the condition of his apartment . . ."

Keely nodded slowly.

"I sorted through that mess. The debris of my son's shattered life. I was looking for a will. I'd always urged him to make one, but he always ignored me. It was quite a job going through it."

"I remember," Keely said.

"On his computer were e-mails, unanswered for years. He never even bothered to look. I went through them, one by one. Checked them all. One of them was from your first husband, Richard. He sent it just before he took his own life. He confessed to everything. The whole story. He wanted Prentice to know what had happened to Veronica. It was on his conscience. At leasthehad a conscience.

"The headaches," Keely whispered. "They never gave him any peace . . ."

Lucas was unmoved by this information. The expression in his eyes was remote, glacial. "Well, he tried to get it off his chest before he died, but Prentice never even opened the mail. He was too far gone. He was already too far gone. But I read that e-mail when I found it-nearly twenty years too late. I read it until I knew it by heart. It seems that Mark and Richard picked Veronica up in Richard's car one long-ago summer evening, offered her a ride. She went with them because she knew Mark. Of course she did. He was a member of the family.

"They asked her to buy them beer because she was of legal age. Kind of ironic when you think about it. Anyway, after a few drinks, they tried to . . . convince her to have s.e.x, and Veronica resisted. There was a struggle, and apparently, she hit her head. Her death was an accident, but Mark panicked. He didn't want me to know. After all, I was his . . . meal ticket. So, they got rid of the body-took it out in a boat and weighed it down. Then, they paid some British girl Mark knew from the International Academy to call Betsy and me and say that she'd run away to Las Vegas. The accent fooled us both. We hardly knew Veronica. Their scheme worked. We believed it. Prentice believed it. It was the beginning of the end for him."

"Oh, Lucas," Keely breathed. She knew that she was looking at a killer, that he had admitted to murder, but she could not, in that instant, hate him. His story felt like a crushing weight on her chest. "Oh, Lucas, how awful . . ."

"I never really knew Richard. He's just a name with no face. But Mark-now that's a different story. When I look back on it now," he went on in a low, steady, bitter voice, "I realize it was typical of Mark."

Abby, tired of the plastic blocks, toddled over to the chaises and stood, swaying slightly, between them, resting one small, sticky hand on Lucas's knee. He looked down at her with a weary, indulgent smile. Abby smiled back widely, showing her few teeth.

"She resembles him a little bit," Lucas mused, looking at Abby.

"A little bit," Keely admitted, drawing Abby to her protectively.

"Around the eyes."

"All those years," Lucas said. "Nearly twenty years, he lied to me. He looked me in the eye, day after day, knowing what he had done to me. Knowing how he had destroyed my son's life. He took every advantage I offered him and more." Lucas sat up and shook his head, like a man trying to awaken himself from a nightmare. "I'm glad he's dead," he said. "My sole consolation is the memory of the look on his face when he realized that he was going to die. The pleading, sputtering yelps-"

"Stop it," she cried.

Lucas stared at her in surprise. "Surely you don't still care for him, knowing what you know . . ."

"I don't want to hear it," she protested furiously. "He was Abby's father."

Abby, startled by their harsh tones and the sound of her own name, let out a wail of protest and wrested her little arm from her mother's loose grasp. She scuttled speedily out from between the chairs, making a beeline toward the edge of the pool.

"Abby," Keely cried.

Keely scrambled up from her seat and started to bolt toward the baby. In her haste to reach Abby, she slipped in a puddle, coming down hard on her knee. She heard a crack and felt a jagged, searing pain inher twisted leg. Lucas had jumped up also. In a swift motion, he lunged forward and waylaid Abby, scooping her up in his arms. Abby squealed in protest, and the young couple at the other end of the pool looked up frowning and then exchanged an exasperated glance.

With dramatic sighs and shaking heads, they gathered up their belongings and left the pool area through the rear door. Keely glanced anxiously at the pool. Dylan was standing neck deep in the water, looking at them quizzically. Meanwhile, Lucas bounced Abby gently in his arms, and her fidgeting seemed to ease as her cries diminished. He waved at Dylan, who waved back and dove down beneath the surface again.

"Are you all right, Keely?" Lucas asked.

Keely tried to stand, but her knee would not hold the weight. With difficulty, she managed to hoist herself up on her trembling forearms and pull herself back to the end of the lounge chair. Her knee was throbbing, but as she moved her leg, the pain coursed through her."Something's broken or sprained," she gasped. She looked up at him."Thank you, Lucas," Keely said. "For . . . stopping Abby." She managed to get herself seated on the chair and held out her arms for the baby, but he turned away, still holding her.

"Lucas," she said sharply. "Please give me my baby."

"I would have made a good grandfather," said Lucas, looking tenderly at Abby in his arms.

Keely felt frustrated, yoked to the chair and unable to get up-unable to reach her child. "I'm sure you would have," she said carefully.

"It's probably only fair to tell you," he said, "that one thing you believed about your husband was true. He did have a genuine attachment to this baby." Abby had slipped a thumb into her mouth and was resting against the front of Lucas's raincoat, her large, long-lashed eyes staring vacantly ahead.

Lucas smiled down at her and smoothed the hair on her head. "The way he would talk about her-I thought perhaps he did. Even after I knew the worst, what a monster he was . . . Still, there was something in his voice and his demeanor that convinced me that he loved her. Truly loved her. Maybe the only thing in his life he ever really did love."

Keely's eyes filled with tears. She couldn't tell if the tears were from the pain in her knee or from remembering Mark's gaze when he looked at Abby.What was real?she thought. He had looked at Keely with adoring eyes as well, but that had not been real.

"My plan depended on it," Lucas said. He was still cradling Abby as he stood at the edge of the pool.

Keely felt her heart leap with fresh alarm. "Your plan? What do you mean?"

"I'm sorry, Keely. This is going to sound harsh to you. But in fairness, I have to tell you this. That night, the night of Mark's death, I was holding your baby in my arms. Just like this," Lucas said, and there was a faraway look in his eyes. Abby's eyelids had started to droop as he rubbed her little back. "I made sure we walked out by the pool, talking about work-just the usual chatter. And then, when we were this close to the edge," he said, nodding down at the ap.r.o.n where he stood, "I told him everything I knew. Mark denied it, of course. But I wasn't listening to his excuses. I had proof. I would have never have done this without proof," Lucas a.s.sured her, turning back to look Keely in the eye. She tried to rise again but fell back.

"When I was finished-when I'd said everything I wanted to about all he'd done and all he'd taken from me-I held the baby out over the edge of the pool and said to him, 'I'll give you a chance to save her. That's more than you gave to me.' " Lucas looked down at the little one, asleep now in his arms. Then he looked back at Keely, who was staring helplessly at him.

"Then I dropped her in," he said.

46.

You dropped her? In the pool?" Keely cried. She felt lightheaded, and there was a rushing noise in her ears. She wanted to jump up and attack him, claw at his eyes.How could you?she screamed inside her head.How could you? How could anyone . . . ?But her swollen knee would not even hold her weight. She tried to push herself up but fell back instead. She was trapped, watching as Lucas, a man who had pa.s.sed the point where he had anything to lose, cuddled her baby.

"I know it was cruel," he insisted. "It was a terrible thing to do. She wasn't to blame for her father's sins. I really hesitated to do it. I almost couldn't do it." Lucas looked at Keely with narrowed eyes. "But then I thought of Prentice. And then I was able to do it. I let her go."

"Lucas," Keely said, her voice shaking. "Give me my child. Now."

Lucas c.o.c.ked his head and looked down wistfully at Abby. "She's beautiful, Keely. I'm glad he did at least have the decency to jump in after her."

To give up his life for her,Keely thought. Her feelings about Mark were so confused at that moment that she didn't know whether she felt hate or grat.i.tude toward him. She knew only one thing for certain. "It was a vile, horrible thing to do, Lucas," she said. "Now give her to me."

"What about Mark?" he demanded. "What about the vile things he did to me? To you, for that matter."

"Abby is just an innocent baby," she cried, and there was a catch in her voice. They were so close to the edge of the pool, she realized. If he dropped Abby now . . . if she hit her head on that concrete ap.r.o.n . . . He had been willing to sacrifice her once. She was still Mark's child.

Lucas clutched the baby close to his chest, as if her warmth waskeeping him alive. "You know, I took an interest in him because I saw something in him. Some spark. I defended himpro bonoin the juvenile court and I remember telling Betsy that he was a remarkable boy. That I wanted to help him. And she accused me . . ." His voice trailed away.

"Of what?" Keely asked, but her entire attention was focused on Abby, who swayed in his arms. Her heart was hammering and her mouth was dry. All of a sudden, out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of white moving up behind Lucas. She realized in an instant what it was. Dylan. He had climbed up the pool ladder directly behind them and was moving quietly, stealthily. "What did she say?" Keely asked, stalling Lucas, trying to keep him from noticing.

"She said I . . . preferred him to Prentice. That he was more like me . . ." Lucas shook his head. "She didn't understand that I could never love Mark the way I loved Prentice. Mark was an extraordinary boy. But Prentice was my son. My flesh and blood. I would do anything for him. You can understand that, Keely. I know you can."

Suddenly, she saw Dylan's face over Lucas's shoulder, a look of warning in his wide, young eyes, and then his white goosefleshed forearm shot out like a switchblade and jerked back, clamping Lucas's neck from behind.

Lucas let out a strangled cry and staggered back, still holding the baby. But Keely saw, as if in slow motion, Lucas's grip giving way, as Dylan kneed him from behind and buckled his knees. Abby started to slip, screaming. Keely jumped up, insensible to her own pain, and managed two steps before she felt herself going down. She hurled herself toward Lucas's knees and felt a thud as the baby hit her on her way to the concrete pad, then rolled on her side.

"Abby," Keely cried.

The baby righted herself and blinked, and then her face crumpled and she began to wail. Blood ran down her face from a sc.r.a.pe on her scalp. Keely crawled toward her and reached out, pulling the baby to her across the pebbly cement.

Dylan and Lucas wrestled on the ground, Lucas tugging at the boy's thin, sinewy arm around his neck. Keely cried out, "Help," and craned her neck, looking for someone, anyone to see her predicament. But the poolarea was deserted, the lounge beyond the doors completely empty, as if it were a ghost motel. Suddenly, as she looked back in horror, Lucas let go of Dylan's forearm, ignoring his chokehold, and reached inside his coat, fumbling until he pulled out an old notched revolver that glinted in his grasp.

"Dylan," Keely screamed. "Let him go. He has a gun."

Ignoring his mother's warnings, Dylan tried to increase the pressure on Lucas's neck, but the older man shifted in his grasp and managed to place the cold barrel into the white flesh of the boy's side.

"Dylan," Keely barked. "Let him go. Right now. Lucas, please, please don't," she cried.

Dylan released his grip and jumped back, shivering, as Lucas staggered to his feet, keeping the gun trained on the boy.

"Lucas, you can't. You wouldn't," Keely pleaded. "He's just a kid. He was only trying to protect me."

Lucas was shaking, the gun bobbing in his hand.

"That's not real, is it?" Dylan asked sarcastically. "That's some old cowboy gun. It probably doesn't even work."

"It's old all right. Part of my collection. But I a.s.sure you it still shoots. Don't force me to show you," said Lucas. "Get over there with your mother."

Sullenly, Dylan wrapped his arms around his shivering frame and trudged over toward the chaise. Keely felt around for a towel and handed it to him, keeping her gaze trained on Lucas.

"You know everything now," said Lucas.

"I told you I didn't want to know. I begged you not to tell me," Keely cried.

"I had to tell someone," said Lucas sadly. "It was important that you know what happened, and why."

Keely closed her eyes and shook her head. "What difference could it possibly make now?"

Lucas sighed. "I must admit I was proud, in an unseemly way, about how I got rid of Mark. I mean, what could be more likely than that a man who couldn't swim might drown in his own swimming pool? It was a perfect solution. Dare I say it? A perfect murder. If not for Dylan and his skateboard, no one would have ever questioned it. It was your owndoing, you know. You couldn't let well enough alone," Lucas said bitterly.

"I wasn't going to have my son blamed for something he didn't do," Keely replied.

"I defended Dylan, didn't I?" Lucas demanded. "I went to bat for him every time. I wasn't about to let him pay for my crime."

"We're all paying for your crimes," Keely said miserably.

"Well, that's unfortunate," said Lucas. "That's not what I wanted."

Suddenly, the door to the pool area opened and two police officers and a man in a coat and tie burst in shouting. "Mr. Weaver! Put the gun down! Police!"

Startled, Keely, Dylan, and Lucas looked around, and then Lucas, still pointing the gun, began to back away, the whites of his eyes showing. Keely, who was cradling Abby's bleeding head, stared in disbelief. Someone outside the pool area must have seen Lucas pull a gun. But how could the police arrive so quickly? she wondered.

"Lucas Weaver," the man in the jacket boomed, and his voice seemed to ricochet in the vaulted room.

"Someone must have seen us," Keely breathed. "Thank G.o.d."

"No," Dylan muttered.

"No what?" said Keely.

But Dylan didn't answer. He was on his feet, watching as the police began to approach Lucas, who was backing away.

"Get down, son," said one of the officers, roughly pushing Dylan down and out of sight behind the chaise.

"You're standing up," Dylan protested.

"We have vests on," said the cop. "Ma'am, can you get the children out of here?"

"I can't walk," said Keely.

The cop nodded and spoke quietly into his remote transmitter. "All right," he said. "Someone will be along to help you. You just stay down in the meanwhile."

"Drop it, Mr. Weaver," said the man in the jacket. "I'm Detective Bartram of the Alexandria police. We have more officers on the way and a warrant for your arrest, which was signed this evening in St. Vincent's Harbor."

The gun shook in Lucas's hand, but he kept it pointed at the cop."I'm not going back," he said.

"Sir, I'm told you are an attorney. You know very well that it will go better for you if you just agree to cooperate with us."

Huddled between her children, behind the lounge chair, her knee throbbing in pain, Keely looked out at Lucas, who was still brandishing his gun, a look of desperation in his eyes. She wanted to call out to him, but her voice stuck in her throat.

"Come on now, Mr. Weaver," the detective cajoled him. "Just put the gun down and we'll get this whole thing sorted out."

Lucas shook his head. "No," he said. "It's too late."

"What's he going to do, Mom?" Dylan whispered. "Why is he acting so crazy?"

As soon as she heard Dylan's question, Keely suddenly knew. She knew what he was going to do. Despite everything, she couldn't just sit there and watch it. She had to try to stop him. "Close your eyes," she ordered Dylan. She rose up on one knee and called out to him.

"Lucas, don't," she said.

"Believe me, Keely," he said, "I was never going to hurt you."

"I do believe you. Please stop. This is not the answer."

"There's nothing left," said Lucas.

"It's not true," Keely cried. "I'll testify for you. About Mark. About the terrible things he did."

"No one will understand. He was still my son. I caused his death. And I'm not even sorry."

"Lucas, he was a liar and traitor. I'll tell them so. People will understand."