Gossip (Desire Never Dies)

by Clara Grace Walker

  The escape fantasies continued until at last the door opened and someone was shoved into the room with her. Shocked, she ceased struggling with the rope. “Nick?”

  Chapter 72

  Jamie was still alive. Thank God. Nick stumbled through the doorway, thrown off balance by D-bag’s crude shove. He lost his footing and fell to his knees, landing with a whack on the unadorned wood floor, just as the door closed and a lock clicked into place behind him. Steadying himself, he looked over at Jamie and smiled. “Sorry, honey. I’m sure this isn’t the rescue you were hoping for.”

  “Nick.” She said his name again, this time with relief instead of as a question. She’d been sitting against a wall, but rushed over to him, her eyes swirling with hope. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  He winked. Like his, her hands were tied behind her back, and a quick inspection confirmed the knots were as tight and complicated as the ones he’d been bound with. “I’d be gladder if it wasn’t under matching circumstances.”

  “I’m sorry.” Hope dimmed from her eyes, replaced by a growing wave of fear. “I didn’t mean I was glad they caught you. Seeing you just picked up my spirits for a minute.”

  “It’s okay.” He managed a chuckle. “I know what you meant.”

  Her trembling voice drove away his despair. He wished he could get free of the rope now, if for no other reason than to hold her. He got to his feet, searching for some way to reassure her. He couldn’t let her die. There had to be a way to save her. He sized up the room quickly. Four bare walls and a wood floor, with only one window, missing the glass. Breaking it and using it to cut the ropes was not an option. Nothing at all he could use as a weapon or a lock pick, or a tool to loosen the rope on his wrists. There wasn’t a single thing inside the room, save the two of them. He nodded toward the partially-closed door on the left side of the room. “What’s in there?”

  “The bathroom.”

  “Really?” His spirits picked up. Bathrooms had mirrors, and mirrors could be broken and the glass shards used to cut their ropes.

  Jamie shook her head, as if reading his thoughts. “There’s nothing in there but a tub and a toilet.”

  “Nothing?” His spirits sank once more, going down like the Titanic. “No light fixtures? No mirrors? No medicine cabinet?”

  “Not even a shower curtain. Everything else has been stripped out.”

  “Great. I suppose they’ve taken the glass out of that window, too.”

  “Ding. Ding. Ding. You win the prize.” Defeat sounded in her words

  He kissed her on the cheek. “Lucky me.”

  “I tried asking D-bag to untie my hands so I could get comfortable, but he just laughed.”

  D-bag. God, how he wanted to choke the life out of that asshole. “I’m sure our comfort’s not their top priority.”

  “They probably figure we won’t live long enough to worry about it anyway.”

  “Hey.” The defeat in her voice filled him with sorrow. Whatever his past mistakes had been, she shouldn’t have to pay for them. He made a mental review of their circumstances. Getting free of their ropes was only step one. They still had to get past a locked door and three armed felons.

  “Hey, what?” she asked. “Come up with an escape plan? One where we survive a jump from a second story window, maybe?”

  He studied her knots, memorizing every detail. Untying them would be difficult. Doing it blindly would be trickier still. “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “Just peachy.” She walked back to the far wall where she’d been sitting and slumped down to a seated position.

  He sat next to her, leaning against the wall, studying the dried tears streaked down her face. Understandable as it was, it surprised him to see she’d been crying. She’d always been so tough. “Kind of scary, isn’t it? Trapped here. Not knowing what’s going to happen next.”

  “Yes.” She mouthed the word softly.

  She’d been held by these psychopaths longer than he had. She must be reaching her breaking point. “Turn around so you’re sitting with your back to me,” he said. “If we work at it, we should be able to get each other’s ropes undone.”

  She looked at him uncertainly. “Do you think that will work?”

  He wasn’t sure, but he was prepared to give it his all. “Yes,” he said. “We need to hurry. I don’t know how much time we’ll have before they come back.”

  Jamie scooted obediently around. As soon as their backs were touching, Nick went to work, tugging and pinching on the nylon rope binding her wrists. He felt her do the same with his. Her fingers felt cold against his skin. Marianne had put her years of sailing to expert use and knotted Jamie’s rope so tightly it was cutting off her circulation.

  “How do we get out of here once our hands are free?” Jamie asked.

  He’d been turning that exact question over in his mind. “Just hang in there. I left Danny a note before I left the office. He’s probably called the cops by now and got half the force out scouring the entire length of the Keys.”

  “Do you think they’ll find us soon?”

  “I’m sure of it.” Not really, but he was hoping. He twisted around to kiss the side of her face. Sighing, she turned slightly, resting her head against his shoulder. The sound of footsteps clicking down the hall alerted him and he quickly scooted away. “Sounds like Marianne’s sandals.”

  Marianne opened the door and smiled, all five-foot, five-inches of her. All orange and white, like a bright summer day. She laughed; loud and boisterous. “You know, Nick, you can’t imagine how long I’ve dreamed of seeing you like this. I’d take a picture to commemorate the occasion if I didn’t have to worry about leaving behind any evidence. Guess I’ll have to cherish the happy memories instead.”

  Goddamn bitch. Standing there gloating. It made no sense. He got why she wanted to hurt him, but not the rest of it. She had a crazy glare in her eyes. Even her laugh sounded off-kilter. Unstable people could be unpredictable, but their buttons were frequently easy to push. “Why did you do this?” he asked. “Why kill Janelle? I’d think you were less of a lunatic if I understood what your reason was.” He tossed the comment out casually, as though they were sitting down having lunch together. As hoped, she reacted.

  Leaning against the doorway, arms crossed stiffly in front of her, her smug grin transformed into a seething glare. “You son-of-a-bitch!” The words flew out of her. “How dare you sit there and pretend you don’t know what you’ve done to deserve this!”

  “I’m afraid you have me at a loss, Marianne.” He continued wearing the cool veneer. It seemed to really rile her. “Why don’t you go ahead and explain it to me?”

  “You really are an ass.” She spit the words out like they were poison. “You ruined my life and you know it.”

  “How?” He knew exactly what she meant. This all came back to Taralynn, but he wanted to hear her say it; to hear her try and explain; to find out exactly how unbalanced she really was. “What have I ever done to you?” he asked calmly. “I’ve never even ran a story about you.”

  “Oh, no. Not one about me.” Venom spilled from her voice and her words tumbled out in a heated rush. “No, you never ran a story about me, but you certainly didn’t mind using my poor little girl as fodder to sell your wretched papers, did you?”

  “Taralynn?” He remained calm. Images flashed through his mind. Naked photos, taken from a sex tape made with Rod and splashed across the front page of The Tattletale. Taralynn had come to his office the next day; the day Janelle had agreed to re-marry him. She’d busted in as they celebrated and told Janelle to make good use of her leftovers. At the time, nothing about her had seemed off. She hadn’t appeared despondent or stressed. She hadn’t even thrown one of her temper tantrums. And he’d been expecting one of those. Her naked body had been found at the foot of her condo the next morning. Like everyone else, the news had stunned him.

  “That’s right. Taralynn!” Marianne screamed, pointing a skinny finger in his direction. “My only c
hild. And you took her from me.”

  He doubted admitting his regret over the story would do anything more than fuel Marianne’s rage. Better to try and make her see reason. “I had nothing to do with Taralynn’s death,” he said. “She wasn’t depressed or upset the last time I saw her. In fact, she wished me well on my upcoming marriage. I don’t know what made her kill herself, but it wasn’t me.”

  “It was you! Because of pictures you published in that rag you call a newspaper.” Marianne continued screaming. Her face contorted into ugly dimensions. “She was ruined after that! Her social standing thrown into the toilet! How was she supposed to have the life she and I had planned out for her after that? And for what? So you could make a few more bucks selling a few more papers.”

  “I thought she killed herself because of Preston. Isn’t that why your husband tried to kill him and Maggie? To avenge your daughter’s death?”

  Marianne scoffed. “Andy always was an idiot. I heard him talking to Taralynn on the phone the day she died. And I know what he said to her. He yelled at her because of those pictures you printed. He told her to fix her reputation or he would never speak to her again.” She paused, taking in a breath, her tone softening. “Taralynn was a good girl. All she ever wanted was to please her parents. To live the life we’d planned for her, with a proper social standing and the right husband, preferably one with business ventures her father could benefit from.”

  Nick shuddered. It was the same twisted logic he’d heard two years ago when Andy sought revenge for Taralynn’s death. Did some people never learn? “Maybe you should blame Andy for your daughter’s death. Or does the fact he’s dead make that too inconvenient?”

  “Stop trying to avoid responsibility here.” She pointed her finger in his direction again, stabbing the air repeatedly. “It’s your fault she’s dead. Yours. And no one else’s.”

  “So why kill Janelle?” he asked. He had to know.

  “To hurt you! You asshole!” Marianne sucked in a deep breath, just as Pearl joined her in the doorway, still holding her gun in one hand and a flute of champagne in the other. Pearl’s presence seemed to calm Marianne. Her facial muscles relaxed, slackening down on her face, and her breathing slowed.

  “Isn’t that cute, Mare?” Pearl smiled at her companion. “Guy wants to gets his facts straight for once, just in case, by some miracle, he manages to live through this and gets a chance to write about it.”

  “Actually, that hadn’t occurred to me,” Nick said. “Although, it would make for a great story. So what’s in it for you, Pearl? Why team up with Marianne? Why kill Janelle?”

  “What do you say, Mare? Shall we give the guy an interview?”

  Marianne smiled, looking at Nick like he was standing on the guillotine and she was about to pull the cord. “Why not? There’s a sort of poetic justice to being his last interview.”

  Pearl laughed, waving her gun at Nick. “Killing your wife made Marianne feels so much better. She was at the club with D-bag and me the morning I called Janelle with an urgent plea to meet me there.”

  Marianne laughed. “I had the best seat in the house. And trust me, I gave the performance a standing ovation.”

  Pearl gave a soft chuckle and continued talking. “Killing Janelle also guaranteed you’d stick your nose into the investigation, handsome. We figured while you were busy trying to pin the whole thing on Rod and my slimy ex-husband, you’d do us the favor of exposing Rod’s blackmail scheme and Peter’s nasty habit of molesting young girls. Have to say, seeing you finally use the power of the press to help me get revenge on those two creeps really made my day.” She turned to her friend. “You’re right, Mare. The guy’s an idiot.”

  “Have I ever lied to you, Pearl?”

  Pearl shook her head. “Not ever.”

  Turning back to Nick, Pearl sighed, looking at him like he was stupid. “There’s a reason I handed those two to you on a silver platter. Practically gift wrapped them for you. You were supposed to do everything in your power to make them look guilty. Use your tabloid brand of journalism for something useful for a change. Now when you turn up dead, the police will know exactly who to blame. You did a marvelous job exposing all their dirty secrets, by the way. Don’t you think so, Mare?”

  Marianne clinked her champagne flute with Pearl’s. “He performed exactly as expected. Tore Peter’s reputation to shreds.”

  “But the police don’t believe Peter killed Janelle,” Nick pointed out. “Have you really not thought this out?”

  Marianne only shook her head. “They don’t have to. Do you honestly not get it? Alibi or not, you’re always going to be the number one suspect in your wife’s killing.”

  Pearl turned to Nick. “You’ll be happy to know we have thought everything out. Now that my miserable ex has been sprung from jail, we’re going to wait for just the right opportunity to kill you and your pretty little girlfriend, and make it look like Peter did it. Shouldn’t be more than twelve hours before we have the evidence we need. Maybe less.”

  “You see,” Marianne chimed in. “I’m happy because I get to kill you, after having made you suffer the loss of a loved one, just the way you did to me. And Pearl’s happy because her low-life ex has finally been exposed to the world for the predator he is, and he will get to take the fall for killing you. It’s a win-win situation.” The two women burst into laughter, clinking champagne glasses once more, as if to congratulate each other on their cleverness.

  “What about Patrice?” he asked. “Why kill her?”

  “Oh, I just didn’t like her.” Marianne made a face of disgust. “Stupid slut was banging my husband throughout most of my marriage. And then being nice to my face, like I somehow didn’t know. I wanted to make sure she was punished for all of her money-grubbing, sleazy behavior.”

  “I’m still confused about what Peter was doing there before she died,” Nick said. “As far as I know, he wasn’t involved with the blackmail scheme.”

  Pearl and Marianne looked at each other and rolled their eyes. “Patrice was trying to blackmail Peter about his underage girlfriends,” Marianne said. “Pearl told her all about them, and even suggested she sell the information to you and extort Peter to keep it quiet. That way you would both be there right before she died.”

  “Poor Patrice thought she was going to make a killing.” Pearl laughed.

  “I know.” Marianne nodded. “But in the end the only thing she got was killed. You should have seen her face when Pearl showed up at her house, bringing D-bag and me with her. I think she knew as soon as she saw us she was going to die.”

  Nick thought of the bruises on Janelle’s neck and the funny angle of Patrice’s head as she lay dead on her couch. “D-bag did the actual killing.”

  Marianne looked at him like he was stupid. “Of course. Why else do you think we’d keep that stupid oaf around?”

  “And the methadone?” he asked.

  Pearl shrugged. “Kept them from struggling too much. Kenneth’s been selling it to those paroled felons of his for years. Figured we might as well make use of it.”

  “Makes sense,” Nick agreed. His emotions churned like a pot of boiling water. Each new detail, and the careless way they tossed them out, made him want to heave. He would not let them see that though. His pain was what they wanted, and he wasn’t about to give it to them. “So, Pearl, you’re the one who introduced D-bag to Peter.” The last pieces of the puzzle finally clicked into place.

  “That’s right,” she said. Sounded proud of it. “I insisted he hire him, actually. Told him I’d tell the whole world about his fling with Sutton’s underage girlfriend if he didn’t. Man, was he surprised to learn I knew about that.”

  So much for concern for her son’s feelings. “You wanted D-bag connected to Peter in case the police ever traced the methadone back to him.”

  “Oh, they will trace the methadone back to him,” Marianne said. “And after that they’ll trace it back to Kenneth, giving Pearl adequate grounds for divorce. Rig
ht, dear?”

  “That’s right.” Pearl slipped her arm holding the champagne glass around Marianne’s shoulder. “Come on, dear. Let’s go finish our drinks before you head back to Coral Gables and wait for the police to finish with Peter’s interview.”

  “Let’s,” Marianne agreed. “What a perfectly splendid idea.”

  As they closed the door, Nick listened to the sound of a lock bolting and heard the click of Marianne’s sandals fade down the hall. How long would it be, he wondered, before they finally killed him? And how much torture would they put Jamie and him through first?

  Chapter 73

  Danny was onto something. He knew it. Felt it. His reporter’s brain clicked into full gear. It was the information contained in the Florida state motor vehicle records that had spurred him on. Or rather, the lack of information contained in it. If the car wasn’t registered in Florida, then it had to be registered in a different state. Probably one bordering Florida. And that’s what had really gotten him thinking.

  Arriving at the home of Dr. Kenneth Watson, he knocked on the door, ready to pepper the man with questions. “Dr. Watson.” He greeted the man as soon as the front door was open. “I’m Danny Ventura.” He stuck out his hand. “We spoke on the phone about your wife.”

  “Right. The reporter.” Dr. Watson shook his hand, barely.

  Wimpy shake. Weak character, Danny thought.

  “Come in, Mr. Ventura.”

  Danny smiled, thinking the guy reminded him of a colder, more aloof version of Dr. Kildare. “Please, call me Danny.”

  “Very well, and you can call me Ken. We can talk in my study.”

  He followed Ken inside his house; a Mediterranean-style villa perched on the oceanfront. How many therapy sessions did a guy have to do to afford a place like this? According to his research, the guy was just your run-of-the-mill psychiatrist. Making good money, to be sure, but not enough to buy a house that had to cost around ten mil. Pearl would have brought some money into the marriage, to be sure. She’d gotten a bit of dough from Peter following the divorce, but not really a lot. Less than the cost of this house, as he recalled. The media had a field day speculating about why the settlement was so small, given the length of the marriage, the two kids and the lack of a pre-nup. Between Pearl and her husband, Danny didn’t see how they could afford the extravagant lifestyle they were living.