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punched the accelerator, sending the car into a violent fishtail. Going against a lifetime of habit, he called the police. “Get me Detective Cook.”
     
    “I’m going to need the copies, Miranda. Where are they?”
    “I don’t have them.”
    “Now you know that’s a lie and you lie so poorly. I really need those copies.” This time Elise stepped forward. “We want this all tidy in the end, don’t we?”
    “Why should I give them to you? You’re going to kill me either way.”
    “Of course I am. It’s the only logical step, isn’t it? But . . .” She shifted the gun and stopped Miranda’s heart. “I wouldn’t have to kill Andrew.”
    “Don’t.” Quickly, Miranda held up her hands, a gesture of surrender. “Please.”
    “Give me the copies, and I won’t.”
    “They’re hidden, out in the lighthouse.” Away from Andrew, she thought.
    “Oh, perfect. Can you guess where I was conceived?” Elise laughed until tears swam in her eyes. “My mother told me how he took her there—to paint her—then seduced her. How wonderful that it all ends where it really began.” Elise gestured with the gun. “After you, Niece Miranda.”
    With one last glance at her brother, she turned. She knew the gun was aimed at her back. At her spine, she imagined. In a larger space she might have a chance. If she could distract Elise for just an instant, she could try. She was bigger, stronger, and she was sane.
    “The police are closing in,” she told Elise, keeping her eyes straight ahead. “Cook’s determined to close this case. He won’t give up.”
    “After tonight, the case will be closed. Keep moving. You always walk with such a purposeful stride, Miranda—let’s be consistent.”
    “If you shoot me, how will you explain it?”
    “I’m hoping that won’t be necessary. But if it is, I’ll put the gun in Andrew’s hand, his finger on the trigger, and fire it again. It’ll be messy, but in the end the logical conclusion would be you argued over this business. You struck him, he shot you. It’s your gun, after all.”
    “Yes, I know. It couldn’t have been easy for you to hit yourself, give yourself a concussion after you killed Richard.”
    “A bump on the head, a few stitches. I got a lot of sympathy out of it, and it goes a long way to putting me in the clear. How could a fragile little thing like me work up the guts to fake an attack like that?”
    She jabbed the gun into the base of Miranda’s spine. “But you and I know I can do a lot more.”
    “Yes, we do. We’ll need a flashlight.”
    “Get it. You still keep it in the second drawer on the left, I imagine. Such a creature of habit.”
    Miranda removed the flashlight, flicking it on while testing its weight. It could be a weapon. All she needed was the opportunity.
    She opened the back door and stepped out into the driving rain. She thought of running, of taking a leap into the gathering fog. But the gun was still pressed into her back. She’d be dead before she took the first step.
    “Looks like we’re about to get very wet. Keep going.”
    Hunched against wind and rain, she walked steadily toward the point. Distance was imperative now. She could hear the waves crashing wildly, stirred by the storm. Every slash of lightning threw the cliffs into sharp relief.
    “Your plan won’t work out here, Elise.”
    “Keep going, keep going.”
    “It won’t work. If you use that gun on me now, they’ll know there was someone else here. They’ll know it couldn’t have been Andrew. And they’ll find you.”
    “Shut up. What do you care? You’ll be dead anyway.”
    “You’ll never have everything I have. That’s really what you want, isn’t it? The name, the pedigree, the position. It’ll never be yours.”
    “You’re wrong. I’ll have it all. Instead of just being ruined, you’ll be dead.”
    “Richard kept a book.” She used the circling stream of light from the tower on the point to guide her now, shifting her grip on the flashlight. “He wrote it all down. Everything he did.”
    “Liar!”
    “Everything, Elise. It’s all recorded. They’ll know I was right. Dead or alive, I’ll still have the glory. So everything you’ve done is for nothing.”
    “Bitch. You lying bitch.”
    “But I lie so poorly.” Teeth gritted, she swung around. The force of the blow struck Elise on an upflung arm and sent her sprawling. Miranda leaped on her, grabbing for the gun.
    She’d been wrong, she realized. Sanity wasn’t