Lucas shook his head. "And Maureen? How will you make them understand that?"

Maureen. Her implacable enemy. Her husband's mistress. But, in the end, Maureen gave up her persecution of Dylan when she realized that it was Lucas who had sent Mark to his death. When it came right down to it, she was only seeking justice, insisting that Lucas pay for his crime, and for that, she was murdered. An impulse? A moment of madness? Perhaps. But murder, all the same. There would be no explaining it away. Keelycould feel the doubt, the hesitation that showed in her own eyes.

"Put the gun down, Mr. Weaver," said Detective Bartram. "We'll talk this over. Just put it on the ground."

Lucas sighed and looked at the undulating surface of the pool. "I took my own vengeance. I wasn't going to leave it to the law. But I know the rules. I have to pay," he said.

Keely gave it another try. "Betsy needs you," she said. "Don't do this to Betsy."

The crazed look in Lucas's eyes vanished for an instant, and he met her gaze steadily, his fine eyes filled with unfathomable sorrow. "Tell Betsy," he said. "Tell her that I loved him more than my own life."

Keely understood. She knew who he meant-Prentice. "You can tell her," she cried.

Lucas shook his head.

"Please, Lucas, don't," she pleaded.

"I became what I hated," he said. "Let's get this over with."

Keely closed her own eyes as she saw him lift the gun. She threw her arms over her children, forcing their heads down, so they couldn't watch.

"No, Mr. Weaver, don't," the detective cried.

But it was too late. The roar of the gunshot was m.u.f.fled because the barrel was in Lucas's mouth. The police rushed forward. There was a tremendous splash. Keely opened her eyes. She could see Lucas's trenchcoat, spread open in the pool like wings, and dark tendrils curling in the aquamarine water around the pulpy ma.s.s that was the back of his head.

Abby was crying in protest over being confined. But Dylan shivered violently against her side and did not look up.

"He did it, didn't he?" he whispered, and his voice was thick.

"Yes. Don't look, darling," said Keely.

There was a general commotion as two officers jumped, fully dressed, into the pool and waded through the armpit-deep water toward the body. Together, awkwardly, they shifted him to the ap.r.o.n and lifted Lucas out. Efforts began to resuscitate him, but it was futile. Curious guests and workers from the hotel, seeing the police cars, hearing the commotion, had congregated in the lounge, peering in, but an officer blocked the entrance to the pool area, and the police coveredLucas's body with a towels from a nearby cart. Keely looked around and saw more police coming through the doors.

An officer approached Keely and the children. "Let's get you people out of here," he said. "Come along now, ma'am," said officer. "You can lean on my shoulder until we can get that leg looked at."

"My kids," Keely whispered. "Dylan, put your coat on. You're shivering."

Dylan picked up the leather jacket without looking back and mechanically pulled it on. "Is he dead?" he asked.

"Yes," said Keely, gripping his hand.

Another uniformed officer joined them and picked up Abby. The first man patted Dylan on the shoulder. "You all right on your own there, son?"

Dylan nodded and rose, trembling, to his feet. He avoided looking at the pool.

The plainclothes detective approached them and put out a hand to halt them. "Are you Dylan?" he asked.

Dylan looked at him with a pained expression. Keely, rising to her one good leg with the help of the cop, looked up in alarm.

"Your message got through all right," said the detective. "Quick thinking on your part."

Keely looked from the police officer to her son in confusion. "Your message? What message?"

A wobbly smile with a hint of pride in it illuminated his wan face."When I was coming back with the ice before," said Dylan, "I saw Mr. Weaver standing outside our door. I knew he wasn't supposed to be there, and I remembered what you said about him being in trouble with the police. So I called for help."

"You called the police?" she exclaimed.

Dylan shook his head. "I called Mr. Warner."

"Dan? But he was away. Their house was all closed up . . ."

"They were up in Boston. Nicole's older sister had her baby. They went up to Boston to see the baby. But then he got worried when the cops called to ask about you finding Ms. Chase. He decided to come back home. Anyway, he'd been trying to call us. I told him what you saidabout Mr. Weaver, and how he was here, in our room. He said he'd call the cops for me and just to trust him."

"And you did," she said, surprised.

"I figured he was cool," said Dylan offhandedly.

Keely shook her head. "That was smart, Dylan. I don't know what might have happened to us. You did good, honey."

"Your mom's right," said the cop. "You were thinking on your feet."

"I'm proud of you," Keely said.

Dylan shrugged. Then he looked at the cop who was offering Keely his shoulder for support.

"I'll do it," Dylan said.

Keely accepted her son's hand and hopped toward him, resting her arm around his leather-jacketed shoulders. "You're taller than I am," she said.

"Does that mean I can start driving?" he said.

"No," she said, shaking him by the sleeve.

She saw a hint of a grin on his face. "Just checking," he said.

It took all her willpower not to embrace him. She didn't want to embarra.s.s him in front of all these people. Following the cop who was holding Abby, they made their way slowly toward the doors, beyond which the police held back the onlookers.

"Our friends are here," Dylan said excitedly.

Keely looked up. She could see Dan Warner, his hands resting on Nicole's shoulders, frowning and craning his neck to catch a glimpse of them.

"So they are," she said.

"Wow," said Dylan. "They must have come with the police."

"I guess so," said Keely.

"We'll be okay," said Dylan, as if rea.s.suring himself.

She nodded and kept hold of his jacket, though he could not feel the strength of her grip.

"I know it," she said. "I know."

end.