COUNTERPOINT
An original romantic serial

From Alina Adams the author of "When a Man Loves a Woman" (DELL 4/00), "Annie's Wild Ride" (AVON 8/98), "Inside Figure Skating" (METROBOOKS 11/00 & 9/99), "Thieves at Heart" (AVON 12/95) and "The Fictitious Marquis" (AVON 6/95)

Available weekly by e-mail from http://www.AlinaAdams.com

Brought to you by:
http://www.KidSave.org
Dedicated to Helping Children All Over the World

CHAPTER 64

     
     "You still haven't said no to my invitation," Robin reminded.
      "No," Nicole said.
      She said it before she thought it. In a way, hearing it was kind of like thinking it. The two no's bounced off each other, then blended together, like a pair of soap bubbles.
      "No," Nicole repeated, this time to make sure that she'd actually said it, that the word had actually been heard outside of her own head.
      "No," she said for a third time. The power of the word pivoted her around like a giant unseen hand, so that she was now looking right at Robin.
      "No," she told him to his face.
      For a moment, he didn't respond. Then, his expression unchanging, Robin simply shrugged, "Alright," he said, and headed for the door.
      He reached for the knob, but the door beat him to it, opening from the outside. Gabriel stood in the doorway, his keys in his hand. From the way he was looking at Nicole, she knew that he'd heard at least part of her conversation with Robin. The question was: which part?
      Robin pointed to Nicole, "She's all yours," he told Gabriel. And walked out the door without another word.
      Nicole looked at Gabriel. He gazed evenly back at her.
      Finally, Gabriel asked, "Are you?"
      "Am I what?"
      "All mine, like Robin said."
      Nicole swallowed hard. And then she nodded.
      Gabriel smiled.
     
      Robin wasn't angry when he left Nicole's apartment. He wasn't angry that she'd refused to go away with him. Actually, this was good. In a way, it was what he'd wanted all along. He hadn't wanted Nicole to come with him. His proposition had just been a last ditch attempt to keep himself from what he'd always known he'd have to do eventually. He'd thought Nicole could save him - and Victoria - from doing it.
      But now, he knew the truth. Robin couldn't count on anyone to help him, and quite honestly, he really shouldn't have ever tried. This was his fault, his responsibility, his consequence. He would take care of it himself.
      And, this time, he would make sure Victoria understood.
     
      Victoria hadn't heard from Robin for two days. He wasn't in his office. And he wasn't answering his phone at the hotel.
      When she stopped by the Fairmont, Victoria was informed that Robin had checked out. But, he'd left something for her.
      An airline ticket to Maine.
     
      Victoria used the ticket. She figured it was as clear of an invitation as she could hope to get from Robin these days. And she also figured - although she didn't know why she believed it so fervently - that this was it. This was the answer to the question Victoria didn't even know enough about to ask.
      And so she used the ticket and she went to Maine. When she got off the plane, there was a limo driver there, waiting for her.
      Victoria followed him.
      In for a penny, in for a pound, after all.
      She asked the driver where he was taking her.
      "The Cooper Mansion," he explained, before rolling up the window between them and refusing to answer any more questions.
     
      The front door was open when Victoria got there. Somehow, she suspected this wasn't always the case. The Coopers didn't seem like the type to leave their doors open so that the locals might wander in and manhandle the antique furniture, original oil paintings, and ankle deep rugs.
      On the other hand: What locals? They'd passed the only town at least twenty minutes ago. The Cooper Mansion stood at the end of a winding, one-lane mountain road, surrounded by forest on all three sides and a lake on the fourth, across which you could just about make out the only other mansion in the area.
      Victoria hadn't seen another soul except for the driver, and he turned around to go back down the mountain as soon as he dropped her off.
      What did that movie say, Victoria wondered? In space, no one can hear you scream? Well, how about on a mountain in Maine?
      And yet, still she went inside the house. The first thing she saw, after the antique furniture and the original oil paintings and the ankle deep rugs, was an envelope propped up on the master staircase, with her name written on it.
      Victoria opened the envelope. There was a note. Robin's handwriting.
      "Douglas' study, second door on your left."
      Victoria walked up the stairs. Her hand slid along the perfectly polished banister. More evidence that this place wasn't exactly left to rot when no Cooper was around. But where the heck was everyone?
      At the top, she turned left.
      One door.
      Two door.
      Victoria knocked.
      "Come in."
      It was Robin's voice. Victoria didn't realize she'd been holding her breath, until the sound of his voice practically made her weak with relief.
      Robin was okay. No matter what other craziness was going on around here - and she suspected there'd be more to come; something told her Robin wasn't throwing her a surprise birthday party here - he was at least okay. For now.
      Victoria turned the doorknob and walked into the room.
      To find Robin holding a gun aimed right at her heart.
      Upon seeing the gun, Victoria reacted the way any reasonable person would. She instantly took a step back and closed the door in front of her.
      But, reasonable, apparently, was not the reaction Robin had been expecting. He crossed the room and came to the door, opening it, still holding the gun, albeit by his side, and looking at Victoria questioningly.
      "Put down the gun, and I might consider coming in," Victoria said.
      Robin looked down, seemingly surprised at seeing his own hand holding a weapon. He turned around, walked a few steps back to Douglas' desk, and rested the pistol on the edge.
      Victoria stepped into the room. And saw that one entire wall was covered with oak mounts. Atop each was another gun or antique pistol or rifle.
      Robin said, "Douglas was a big collector."
      "Obviously."
      "He's got some really rare stuff. Revolutionary War, Civil War, European models. They're worth a lot of money."
      "Do any of them work?"
      "Oh, yes. You see this gun, here?" Robin indicated the one he'd initially waved in Victoria's direction. "I killed my mother with it."