"Are you up?" Sam asked, his back toward me, still keeping the dog at a distance with the shaft of the lamp.
"No."
The wood of the wardrobe was smooth and slippery. Each time I tried to pull myself onto the top, my hands slid over the edge. I licked them to make them sticky and jumped from the table to give myself a better angle. Getting partway on top, I pulled with all my strength. My arms ached. I scraped my ribs, slowly dragging the rest of my body onto the high, flat surface.
"Your turn," I called to Sam.
He backed toward the table, half step by half step, slowly, steadily. The dog moved with him. There was a heavy rope coiled on top of the wardrobe. I seized it like a weapon.
"Almost there," I told him.
His left hand reached back and felt the table, his right kept the pole between him and the dog. He slid onto the table, then carefully pulled up. his feet.
The dog's growl deepened.
"When you're ready, hand me the pole," I said.
"I can manage it."
"You'll have to turn your back to the dog. Give me the pole. I'll fend him off."
"You might fall," he argued.
"I'm not that clumsy."
"Kate, just stay still."
"Give… me… the… pole!"
But Sam, crouching on the table, rose to his feet and quickly spun around, letting the lamp shaft go, so he could hoist himself onto the wardrobe. The dog charged. Sam cursed.
"Kick! Kick!" I cried, then lashed out with the rope, using it like a whip on the dog. I brought the rope down hard again and again, trying to back off the furious animal. Hearing the rip of clothing, I pulled on Sam's arm.
He suddenly propelled himself to the top of the wardrobe, so suddenly, I was unprepared for the shift in weight and direction. I fell backward. Sam yanked me toward him, back onto the top of the furniture.
The dog leaped against the solid wardrobe, charging it repeatedly, as if he had gone mad. Sam and I held on to each other and stared down at the animal.
A scream, a man's shout that pitched into terror, quickly drew our eyes upward. Joseph was in the loft, shouting to Adrian, "Call the dog off. Call it off!"
"You had your chance, several chances."
I could see Joseph backing toward the balcony railing. The dog matched him step for step, then began to close the gap.
"Call the dog off," Sam hollered. I shouted with him.
Joseph took a step up onto the flat metal railing. He climbed to the top, standing on a surface half the width of his foot. There was nothing for him to grab on to there-no pole, no wires-the ceiling high above him, the ground floor far below. The dog snapped at his feet. Joseph teetered.
I saw what followed as if played in slow motion. Joseph realized his fate, closed his eyes, began to fall. Sam jerked my head toward his shoulder, then buried his face with mine. We didn't see Joseph hit, just heard a sound like a pumpkin smashing against the concrete floor.
"Tonya, Marcus, come!" Adrian commanded the dogs.
Sam and I held on to each other on top of the wardrobe. We couldn't see Joseph from our perch, but one of the dogs was nosing the area where he had fallen.
"Marcus, get out of there!" Adrian shouted at the dog. "I don't want to have to clean you up."
I sank against Sam, feeling sick to my stomach.
"I'm sure he's dead, Kate," Sam said quietly, "but as soon as the dogs are kenneled, I'll check him out."
I can look for myself."
"Don't argue-not this one, okay? If it were someone I had thought was my friend, I would ask you to look for me."
I nodded mutely.
"Sam, Kate, we must talk," Adrian said, as if we, too, were obedient to him.
I ignored him. "How is your leg, Sam?"
"Marcus got a mouthful of pants."
"Did he? So, it's your pants that are bleeding like that."
"There is no need to stay up there," Adrian called to us.
Sam grunted under his breath, then said aloud, "When the dogs are inside, the door is closed, and you are farther from the door than we are, we'll come down."
"Of course, I understand," Adrian replied, sounding almost amused by our caution. "But don't leave. There are a few things we all need to understand."
As soon as he had secured the dogs behind the door, Sam jumped down from the wardrobe and rushed toward Joseph. He stopped suddenly. The way he gripped the back of a chair told me all I needed to know. Sam turned to me, his body bent slightly, his face distorted, sickened by what he had seen, then he buried his chin in his chest and walked swiftly back to me.
I slid off the wardrobe. "Let's get out of here."
"Not unless you have better lawyers than I do," Adrian called. He walked toward us, cell phone in hand, punching in numbers.
"Yes," he said into the phone, "this is Adrian Westbrook. I'm calling from Crossroads Auction House. I wish to report a break-in and what appears to be an unfortunate casualty resulting from it… No, it's too late for medical assistance. The thief must not have realized we had guard dogs. He appears to have fallen. . Yes. . Yes. . I'm not sure," he responded, eyeing me. "It is possible that more than one person was involved…. Thank you. I'll wait for you here."
Adrian closed his cell phone and gazed thoughtfully at Sam and me. "I called the sheriff, not the state police, to give us a little more time, though we don't have much. You need to make some choices quickly."
"The facts don't leave us any choices," Sam replied.
"Oh, everyone has choices," Adrian said. "Joseph here, chose to break in. His reason? One can only conjecture, but he cased the place last Monday with Kate-several people witnessed that. Perhaps, in the course of settling his mother's affairs, he became interested in the antique business. Perhaps he spotted a few valuable pieces he wanted but didn't wish to pay for. Too bad he forgot about the guard dogs.
"As for Kate, what choices does she have to make? Not only was she seen with Joseph on Monday, guests and employees at the hotel noticed her and Joseph" together just before the break-in today. One has to wonder why a teenager would get involved in this kind of business — for a percentage of the profits? But wait, she was recently fired by the owner of the auction house."
He was framing me, blackmailing me.
"Don't look so grim, Kate," Adrian said, sitting down on a Victorian settee, running his hand over the torn silk upholstery. "I was painting the worst scenario for you. In fact, you can choose to be quite well off for a seventeen-year-old. Your father must have left you a respectable sum. I would give you something rather more outrageous, with my guarantee that I will swear you had no part of this and with your guarantee that you will go along with my story to the police."
"But I won't."
I saw the perspiration on his brow, the first sign that he was less than sure things would work out his way.
"I don't think you understand the precarious nature of your situation," he said, "the little bits of information the police might be given that aren't very flattering to you, such as the poisoning of Patrick when he was in your care, the so-called accident at the pond, his distrust of you, not to mention the power of my testimony coupled with Sam's."
Sam turned to me. "Let's go, Kate."
"I would think twice before saying no to full tuition, Sam, tuition and board at an Ivy League college. I'd be delighted to give a decent education to a boy as bright as you. Did I mention I'm on Harvard's board of trustees? They have a fine hockey team."
"Over my father's dead body."
I heard a car engine. I wondered how two teens could convince a sheriff that they were innocent.
"I admire the honesty of both of you," Adrian said, his voice as reasonable as ever, though he was breathing fast, "but think it through. Ashley's murderer is dead. I have little time left — I'll be dead before a trial could begin. If death is the ultimate justice, justice will be attained. No one is in danger now from me-I'm not a common criminal. Most important, Patrick will be spared. Kate, you love the boy. Do you want him growing up knowing what his father has done?"