“Why do you say that? He gave you everything you wanted when you graduated with your degree in wine-making—the latest technology, state-of-the-art equipment—everything.”
“I found out the bastard intends to let me go. He’s going to bring in another, better-known winemaker.”
“I gather that’s not going to happen now?”
“No.” Beth smiled. “It’s not just Warner’s company that’s going to fail. His precious winery is going down, too. He needed me, but he never appreciated me. I finally realized that.”
“Who helped you to see the truth? Wait, let me guess—Cecil Dillon, right?”
“Cecil found out that Colfax plans to replace me.”
“Cecil probably lied.”
“Why would he do that?”
“Because he needed your help, you twit. For a smart woman, you are about as dumb as a brick when it comes to men.”
Beth stared at her. “What are you talking about?”
“Think about it for half a second. It was Cecil’s idea to get rid of Sara and Mary, wasn’t it?”
“Mary,” Beth said quickly. “He just wanted to get rid of her. He needed those shares to go to Quinn, you see. He was afraid that Mary would side with Warner when it came time to vote on the merger. But Sara and Mary went everywhere together. We didn’t have any choice when we arranged the accident.”
“I believe the polite name for it is collateral damage. You really are dumb. Trust me, Cecil Dillon lied to you from the start. He used you, just like Brinker did.”
“What is it with men?” Beth said, clearly bewildered. “You give them everything and they walk all over you. Stop the car.”
Lucy brought the car to a halt and slowly unfastened her seat belt.
“Now what?” she asked.
“Give me the keys.”
Lucy obeyed.
Beth opened the passenger-side door and backed out of the seat, never taking the gun off Lucy.
“Now you get out,” she ordered. “Slowly.”
Lucy obeyed. There was an eerie silence around the winery today. The place truly was deserted.
“Shouldn’t there be someone here?” she asked. “A security guard or one of the workers?”
Beth snickered. “Not when the boss orders everyone to leave.”
“Colfax did that?”
“While I held a gun to his head.” Beth angled her chin toward the large building that housed the fermentation tanks, the bottling room and the rest of the equipment required for wine-making. “Inside.”
Lucy walked toward the entrance. She stopped in front of the computerized lock.
“I’ll give you the code,” Beth said. “Key it in.”
She rattled off a string of numbers. Lucy dutifully touched the keypad in sequence. She heard the muffled sound of the bolt. Maybe if she could get inside first and haul the door closed behind her . . .
“Stand back,” Beth said. “I’ll get the door.”
So much for plan B.
Beth grabbed the door handle and hauled it open with one hand. “Go inside. Walk slowly and stay where I can see you. Understand?”
“Got it,” Lucy said.
When she moved inside, she discovered that only a portion of the cavernous structure was fully illuminated by the overhead fluorescent fixtures. The far end of the room lay in shadow. If all else failed, she would have to make a run for it and pray that Beth was not a good enough shot to hit a moving target.
The lights gleamed on the large, stainless-steel fermentation tanks and the piping connected to them. The cold glow of the overheads revealed something else as well. Warner Colfax lay, unmoving, on the floor.
“You killed him, too?” Lucy said quietly.
“He’s not dead—not yet.” Beth smiled. “He drank some of my own private-reserve supply of bottled water. He should be coming around soon. I want him awake to witness the destruction of his precious winery. He’s going up in flames along with it.”
“What happens now?”
“As long as you’re here, you might as well make yourself useful.” Beth gestured with her free hand. “Take those bottles out of that rack and put them into the boxes that are sitting on the trolley. When you finish loading the boxes, you will wheel them outside and put them into the back of the van.”
“You want me to pick up whole cases of wine and load them into a van?”
“Why not? I do it all the time. You look strong to me.”
Lucy went to where the bottles of Reserve were stacked in small clusters in the wine racks. She removed one bottle and placed it gingerly into the wine carton.
“Faster,” Beth said.
Warner Colfax chose that moment to groan. Beth glanced at him, frowning.
There wasn’t going to be a better chance, Lucy thought. She grabbed two bottles out of the rack and flung one of them directly at Beth. Beth turned back quickly, yelped in panic and managed to dodge the missile. The bottle shattered when it struck the floor, splashing dark red wine on Beth’s pants and shirt.
“Damn you,” Beth shrieked. “What have you done?”
For a heartbeat or two, her horrified attention was fixed on the valuable wine spilling like fresh blood across the floor.
Lucy was already in motion. Clutching the remaining bottle, she fled for her life, racing to put a row of gleaming steel fermentation tanks between herself and Beth.
The gun roared. Lucy heard shots crack in quick succession. Some sounded as if they had struck the steel tanks.
For the first time in her life she wished she knew something about firearms. As it was, she had absolutely no idea how many shots Beth could fire with the particular gun she was using. Then again, who could count under such stressful circumstances?
She ducked behind a long row of casks stacked as high as her shoulders and tried to breath light, shallow breaths. Mercifully, the HVAC system hummed throughout the building. The low rumbling of the machinery provided some ambient noise.
“How could you do that?” Beth screamed. “You have no concept of what you just destroyed, do you? It took me three years to get that blend the way I wanted it. Three years of my life.”
Her footsteps echoed on the floor. Beth moved forward cautiously, stopping every few steps for a short time. Lucy could not see her, but it was all too easy to imagine what was happening. Beth was stalking her through the tank room.
The occasional pause in Beth’s footfalls no doubt came when she stopped to peer underneath the fermentation tanks. They were elevated off the floor.