A View to a Kill

by Cheryl Bradshaw

  “I’m in one piece, which is more than I can say for Dad’s car.”

  “What happened?”

  Quinn filled her in on the details.

  “You know why this happened, right?”

  “I’m not positive, no.”

  “I don’t think you were sideswiped on accident, Quinn. I think someone tried to run you off the road. On purpose.”

  “Why would they? I have no idea who’s behind Evie’s death. I thought I had it right, and I had it wrong. Roman didn’t kill Evie. I mean, I never thought he did. Roy didn’t either.”

  “I think you think you have it wrong, when really, you have it right and you just don’t know it yet. You should be more careful.”

  It was surreal, receiving advice from a sister who’d never had a cautious moment in her life.

  “You think someone was trying to scare me?” Quinn asked.

  “Or hurt you.”

  “Why do I detect a judgmental tone in your voice?”

  “I’ve been thinking.”

  A scary thought in itself. “And?”

  “What about Marcus?”

  “What about him?” Quinn asked.

  “You ever think Evie’s death was personal, like some kind of jealous rage? Marcus hated Evie. What if he—”

  “He didn’t. We were just getting back from our vacation.”

  “Yeah, see, that doesn’t make me think he’s innocent. That makes me think he was smart enough to get himself a perfect alibi.”

  “He couldn’t have done it,” Quinn restated. “There’s no possible way.”

  Astrid stayed silent for a moment, then said, “I talked to him once, at your wedding reception. He said something interesting to me. He said he detested Evie. He used that word too. Detested. I told him it was too bad. She’d never be out of your life. He laughed, said I should never say never, said he knew how to get rid of her if he had to.”

  “I’m sure his comment was harmless. It was his way of making himself feel inferior. Like I said, he was with me at the time of her murder.”

  “He could have hired someone.”

  Astrid’s assumption was ludicrous. “Can we change the subject, please?”

  “Just think about it, okay?”

  “Okay, fine.”

  Quinn would say anything to stop the current topic from blossoming any further.

  “I ... umm ... haven’t seen you around much the last couple days,” Astrid said. “Didn’t know whether you were going out of your way to avoid me, or if you decided never to speak to me again, or what. I’m still planning on leaving, I just haven’t decided when.”

  “What happened between us, Astrid, isn’t something I can just move on from. What you did ... it changed everything. My decisions. My life. I made the worst mistake because of you.”

  “Nothing I can say will ever change the past. Even if I have regrets, and believe me, I do.”

  Quinn still wasn’t so sure. “In your note you left me, when you said I should come clean, tell the truth, I assume you were talking about Isaiah.”

  “If you’re going to make things right with Bo, he may as well know all of it. He probably thinks you married Marcus for love, and we both know you didn’t.”

  “How would it make things different now?” Quinn asked. “It’s in the past.”

  “It would help him understand why you did what you did.”

  “After all the effort you went through to keep us apart, why help me now?”

  “Call it selfish if you want, and maybe it is, but maybe my guilt has finally driven me to do something right for a change. Maybe it’s time I finally take some responsibility for my actions.”

  CHAPTER 44

  Quinn rested a bottle of water on the table next to her and reclined back against one of the plush pillows lining the sofa. Whether she was ready to admit it or not, she had to accept the possibility that the car accident may not have been accidental. It may have been deliberate, the act of someone trying to scare her, or to warn her what would happen if she didn’t stop sticking her nose where it didn’t belong. If true, Evie’s killer was nearby and perhaps assumed she was a lot closer to discovering the truth than she was. If he was brazen enough to hit her on a public road at night, he was brazen enough to kill her as he did Evie, a reality she expected he wanted her to know.

  With Roy exonerated, she shifted her thinking. Revenge. Money. Jealousy. Secrets. Each a driving force for murder. One possibility she hadn’t looked into came to mind: Evie’s business.

  Evie’s appointment book was confusing and disorganized, much like Evie’s personality in life. Almost everything in the book was scribbled at an angle with a blue Ballpoint pen and then highlighted in one of three different neon colors. The handwriting wasn’t Evie’s, which meant the job of arranging appointments most likely rested on the shoulders of Felicity, who would soon be getting a lesson in the value of organization.

  There were two sides to Evie’s business. The repeat side included yard maintenance, fertilizer, weed control, and in the winter months, snow removal. Almost all the work generated from this side of the business was overseen by Rowdy, who then delegated the jobs out to his crew.

  The other side, landscaping, was overseen by Evie, and included existing contracts with two builders in town and jobs solicited by homeowners themselves. Of the two builders, one was just breaking ground on a new subdivision, and the other had just finished, which meant Evie wasn’t currently working for either of them.

  Quinn spread all recent invoices on the coffee table in front of her. She picked out the ones Rowdy was responsible for, deciding, with Rowdy at the helm, Evie wouldn’t have been very involved. Next she removed the ones that had gone out to the builders whose jobs hadn’t started yet. This left three current landscaping jobs, all of them for local homeowners in the community. She clicked on her cell phone, checked the time. After midnight. Too late to give Felicity a ring. Her questions would have to wait.

  She raised both hands over her head and yawned. The melatonin she found in the kitchen cabinet appeared to be working. She stood, drew the kitchen curtains closed, stopping when she thought she saw a flicker of something outside. She cupped both hands against the window pane, peered out. Probably nothing. But with each passing moment, her mind ran wild, creating shapes, shadows out of nothing. And with each new obscured angle, the tension grew.

  You’re being paranoid.

  Walk away.

  She sealed the curtains together in the middle, checked the door, and double checked every latch on every window. All secure. She climbed into bed, slid Evie’s handgun beneath her pillow, and stared at the wall.

  You’re safe, go to sleep, one part of her mind whispered.

  Don’t fall asleep, stay awake, you’re in danger, whispered the other.

  CHAPTER 45

  Warm fingers caressed their way down the side of Quinn’s cheek. Her eyes thrust open. “Mom, what are you doing here? What time is it?”

  “Almost nine o’clock.”

  She’d slept for several hours, her body finally succumbing to too many nights spent staring at the ceiling, her mind wandering until its battery died and there was nothing left to charge it anymore. Three hours here. Four there. And last night, seven. She felt almost normal again.

  Her mother pointed to a chair by the window. “Your father’s here too.”

  Quinn glanced to the side, tried to read her father’s face. It was expressionless, petrified, like if he moved even the slightest amount, it might crumble. She folded a pillow in half, propped herself up in front of it. “I’m sorry about your car, Dad.”

  “Don’t worry about the car,” her father said. “That’s what car insurance is for. Just tell us what happened.”

  The decision of just how much information to divulge was a slippery slope. Too little and they’d seek additional facts somewhere else. Too much, and they wouldn’t care how old she was—she’d be lucky if they ever allowed her to leave the house again.
/>   Why worry them when the truth was open to interpretation?

  Quinn folded her hands into her lap. “I didn’t have my glasses, and I must have been driving too slow. I was rear-ended. The car spun around, and I hit the wall.”

  Simple and to the point, though not well received. Her mother looked at her father. His eyes were damp, his petrified wall crumbling. They knew a lot more than they led on, or at least they thought they knew, and it didn’t take much for Quinn to realize she’d been outed by a younger, female version of Judas Iscariot.

  “Someone ran you off the road, and you didn’t think it warranted a phone call?” her father asked.

  “I did call you, Dad. You didn’t pick up. I called Astrid. I’m home now, and I’m fine. Everything is fine.”

  “It’s not fine, Quinn,” her father said. “Your sister told me—”

  “You know Astrid. She’s exaggerating. She wasn’t there. I was. You have nothing to worry about. Call Kyle Grady if you don’t believe me. He arrived right after I crashed. He’ll say the same thing I’m saying now.”

  Her father leaned forward, rested his hands on his knees. “If you’re in trouble, Quinn, we need to know. You can only poke a hornet’s nest for so long before you get stung.”

  Someone was about to get stung, all right—and Quinn would be the one doing the stinging.

  CHAPTER 46

  Quinn gripped the textured vinyl in her hands, yanking the shower curtain open in one expeditive swoop. Astrid hopped back, her feet sliding across the slickness of the tub’s bottom as her hands grappled to balance themselves against the tiled side wall beside her.

  “What the hell, Quinn? Close the curtain. It’s freezing!”

  “Why couldn’t you just leave it alone?”

  Astrid dipped her hair under the running water, combing the conditioner out with her fingers. Eyes shut, she reached down, twisted the shower knob to the right. She stepped out, squished her toes into the shag rug beneath her, and bent over, whipping a blue towel off the rack. “I knew you wouldn’t say anything, and I thought they needed to know.”

  “Why? So they could panic, fear for their daughter’s life? Is this the new you, Astrid? You’ve decided to go from not giving a shit to being overprotective?”

  “You need to calm down, Quinn.”

  “And you need to learn to mind your own business.”

  Astrid circled the towel around herself, attempted to push her way past Quinn. Quinn stabbed two fingers onto Astrid’s chest like they were skewers, forcing her back against the wall. “I’m not done talking to you.”

  Astrid raised both hands. “First you don’t want to talk to me, and now you’re dying to. Can I at least put some clothes on—”

  “Stay out of my life, Astrid. Just leave me alone. You’ve done it for years now. It shouldn’t be hard to do it again.”

  Quinn lifted her fingers off Astrid’s chest, leaned back on the bathroom cabinet.

  Astrid remained glued to the wall, staring at Quinn like she questioned whether the clear path she now had out of the bathroom was some kind of trap. “I’m worried. Okay? You shouldn’t be out there trying to do the cops’ job yourself.”

  “You are worried about me? Since when? Since two days ago? Because three days ago you couldn’t have cared less.”

  “That’s not true. I didn’t think you needed me before. But I feel like you need me now. I never thought I’d have the chance to make things up to you.”

  “Make what up to me?” Quinn asked.

  “What I did.”

  “Is that why you ran to Mom and Dad, feigning your concern?”

  Astrid placed her hands on her hips. “I did what I thought was best. And, I have no idea what the word feigning even means.”

  Quinn looked at her sister, really looked at her—at the way she nibbled her lower lip, the way her eyes were distant and empty. Like she was lost. “Can we just try to get along for whatever amount of time you decide to squat here? If not for ourselves, at least for Mom and Dad. They don’t deserve to see us fight.”

  “We’ll never get past this, the way we’re treating each other right now, until we make peace with the past. And you’re not interested. You’ve said so a few times.”

  “Less than two weeks ago my life was ordinary. The same. Day in, day out. The highlight of each day was deciding what new dish I was going to prepare for dinner. Can you believe it? I don’t even like to cook. I’ve lived in denial for so long, that all of this, everything that’s happening right now, all crashing down on me at the same time—it’s overwhelming. I can barely soak one thing in, and yet, I find myself feeling drenched.”

  “Turn around.”

  “What?”

  Astrid placed her hands on Quinn’s shoulders, spun her around so they both faced the mirror. “Look at my reflection. What do you see?”

  “This is ridiculous,” Quinn said.

  “What do you see?”

  “You. Me.”

  “Wanna know what I see in myself? I see someone who has the ability to be soft, but is hard instead. Someone who could be kind, but knows how much easier it is to close herself off, so she does. Someone most people see as a bitch. A person who’s spent the last several years blaming everything that’s happened to her on everyone else.”

  “Astrid, you don’t need to—”

  “No, Quinn. I’m being honest for once. Now it’s your turn. What do you see in yourself?”

  “I see ... I don’t know what I see.”

  “Mind if I weigh in?”

  “Depends.”

  “The last time I saw you, your face was gray and ashy. Look at it now. Rosy and full of life. Even though you’re grieving for Evie, you look different, Quinn. You look alive. Like someone dumped some water into your pot and is giving you the chance to bloom again. It’s okay to be raw and exposed. And it’s okay to let Isaiah go now, to give yourself another chance to live.”

  Quinn braced her hands against the sides of the counter, fought back the emotions growing inside her. “I just miss him. Every day. It still hurts so much, you know?”

  “I know. And it’s all my fault. This is why I’ve stayed away. I knew what I’d done to you. When I stopped being angry, I had no idea how to fix it. So I didn’t. You thought I didn’t care about being in your life, and I knew I couldn’t until I told you what happened.”

  “I wouldn’t have had Isaiah any other way, so one good thing came out of it.”

  “I’ve, ahh ... never told you this before, but I sent flowers to his grave.”

  “Really, when?”

  “On the first Friday of every month.”

  “That was you? I always thought one of Marcus’s sisters sent them.”

  “I thought it was best to remain anonymous at the time.”

  “No matter what our differences are, it means a lot to me, Astrid. I mean it.”

  “If you really want to thank me, you’d let me explain why I did what I did to you. Please, Quinn. I’ll even give you the short version.”

  If there was ever a time to hear it, a moment when the two of them were getting along, this was it. “I’ll try.”

  Astrid paused a moment. “When I was in the ninth grade, the basketball coach assigned some of the older high school boys to practice with a few of us. He thought it would up our game, help us learn how to be more aggressive. Bo was assigned to me.”

  “I remember.”

  “He was so kind and playful and fun. He treated me different than the other guys did. I didn’t feel like some dumb kid when I was with him. I felt like a woman. We practiced together for weeks. Most of the time, Dad came to the gym to pick me up, but one time, he was busy, so you did. Do you remember?”

  “I don’t.”

  “You met Bo that day.”

  “I knew him already.”

  “Yeah, in passing, maybe. When you picked me up, the two of you talked. The day you don’t remember is the day I finally snapped.”

  “What are you talkin
g about?”

  “I loved Bo. At least, I loved him as much as a freshman could love a guy at age fourteen. I thought he felt the same about me—until he saw you—and then it was like he didn’t see me anymore. He only saw you. Only talked about you.”

  “And you became jealous.”

  Astrid nodded. “I’m sorry. I hated you for it. You could have dated any guy you wanted. To me, it was like you stole him away from me.”

  “I never knew you had those feelings for him. How could I? You never told me.”

  “It wouldn’t have made a difference. He loved you, and you loved him, and I was brushed to the side. I was young. And heartbroken. And stupid. Really stupid.”

  “You toyed with our lives that night without giving a second thought to the consequences. What you did, Astrid, it was cruel.”

  Astrid pressed a hand to her hip. “Cruel? If it had been the first time you’d snatched a guy away from me, maybe. It wasn’t. It was the third.”

  “The third?”

  “Trevor Fallon then Allan Willis then Bo.”

  “Astrid, none of those guys were ever your boyfriends. It wasn’t like I went after them deliberately. I wasn’t trying to hurt you. How could I if I wasn’t aware of your feelings in the first place?”

  “Somehow I convinced myself you knew what you were doing, that you kept going after the same guys I liked for a reason.”

  “What reason?”

  Astrid shrugged. “I don’t know. To show me you could, to show me you were better than me.”

  “Better than you? When have we ever been in competition with each other?”

  Astrid opened the bathroom door, stepped into the hall, turned back. “Like I said, I don’t ever expect you to forgive me. You can go on hating me forever if you want. At least now you know.”

  CHAPTER 47

  Not long after Quinn and Astrid parted ways outside the confessional bathroom, Quinn’s daily visitor arrived. Right on time. She met him outside.