Page 169 of A Dead End Wedding

"Honestly, I'm not sure how much more I can take. If Uncle Nathan has been in an accident, I'm going to ask them to put me in the hospital bed next to his. Maybe we can share a morphine drip." The searing pain in my chest at the thought of Uncle Nathan in a hospital bed almost knocked me down.

"Come with me," he said.

"No, there's not room in your car. I'll be right behind you. In fact, I'll start at the store and work my way toward the house while you pick up Aunt Celia," I said, grabbing my purse. We ran out the door, but the phone rang again.

"That might be Aunt Celia, about Nathan," I said. I ran back to pick it up. "Is he okay?"

There was a silence.

Then a raspy voice that sounded a lot like my sinus stalker came on the line. "Tell your client that he needs to take the five million if you want your uncle to live to write another book. We know Brody is there with you. Get him out. If you tell him anything, your uncle dies."

Jake looked at me, inquiring. It took every atom of willpower I'd ever had to keep my face calm. I held the phone away from my ear a little and forced a smile. "No, Jake. It's one of mypro bonoclients. I have to take this; she's in trouble. I'll be on my way in five minutes."

He nodded. "Nathan will be okay, December. Don't worry." Then he strode off down the hall. After I heard the door close, I put the phone back to my ear. "He's gone. What do you want? Where is my uncle? Is he all right?"

"Shut up, bitch. I'm the one asking the questions this time."

I waited, but there was only more silence. "Well, go ahead."

"Go ahead, what?" he snarled.

"Ask the questions," I said, trying not to scream.

"What questions?"

Oh, God. My uncle's life is in the hands of the stupidest criminal in recorded history.

"You said . . . oh, forget that. Tell me what you want me to do, and I'll do it. Please don't hurt my uncle. He's only a harmless old man. Please," I said, tears rolling down my face.

"Here's the deal. You get Deaver to accept that five million dollars. Then you bring the signed settlement papers to us at Sarah Greenberg's boat at the marina. If you call the police, we'll kill Nathan. If you call anybody else, or tell anybody else, we'll kill Nathan. If you bring anybody with you, we'll kill Nathan, and then we'll kill you."

He laughed, and ice skittered across my skull from the sound of it. "And after we kill Nathan, and you, we'll go after Nathan's wife. You got me?"

"I got you," I whispered, knees buckling. "I understand perfectly."

46

Idropped the phone on the desk and stood there, frozen in shock. I couldn't think, I couldn't move, and I couldn't figure out what to do. My mind was babbling at me. It couldn't take one more thing; I had to call Jake and get help.

But he said he'll kill Nathan. I have to handle this myself.

I dug my nails into my palms, trying for clarity of thought. How did this make sense? How did it fit together? Why didn't it work?

The puzzle pieces were all wrong. The tingly feeling in my head was exploding.

If I get Charlie to sign that agreement, how will that help them? They know I'll tell the police about all of this at some point. They can't threaten me for the rest of my life.

"Yes, they can. If the rest of my life is measured in hours now, not years. They can't let Uncle Nathan go. They can't let me go. They'll have to kill us. Or make it look like we committed suicide, like Ziggeran," I muttered to myself.

I automatically grabbed my purse and headed for the door, still thinking out loud. "They can't even let Charlie live, unless hesigns, no questions asked. Even then, they might consider him a loose end."

So Sarah was in on the coverup. BDC must have one hell of a kickback scheme going on to get a top plaintiff's attorney to go along with something like that. I flew out the door and out to my car, then shoved the key in the ignition and took off.

I was heading for the marina. I'd call Charlie on the way. I couldn't put his life in jeopardy, too. I fumbled for my phone and dialed.

"Hey, hello," Charlie said.

"Charlie, it's December. Look, get out of your house. I know it sounds odd, but there are some very bad people threatening us. They have . . . well, they want me to force you to settle your case. But I have a conflict now, and I can't talk to you about your case. I need – I need," I fumbled, wondering what to say.

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