A View to a Kill

by Cheryl Bradshaw

  “You up for a walk?” Bo asked.

  She glanced skyward, taking in the dense, gray clouds. “Looks like it’s going to rain.”

  Bo’s eyes remained on Quinn. “Suppose you’re right.”

  “Why don’t we talk in my apartment instead?”

  Bo shrugged. “We can, if you want.”

  “You don’t want to though. I can tell.”

  “I like this,” he said.

  “Like what?”

  “The air, the way it smells before a storm.”

  So did she, but the prospect of getting soaked wasn’t alluring.

  “How about we just walk through the park?” he asked. “Then we can head back if it starts sprinkling.”

  Or pouring, as was the custom at times in Cody—the streets dry one second, drenched the next.

  Live a little, Quinn. It’s just water.

  She went back to the apartment, lifted a jacket from the back of her bedroom door, met Bo on the sidewalk. They walked toward the park, the same park where she’d first met Evie.

  Bo’s face was different today. Solemn. Worried. “I just found out what happened to you last night. I busted my phone, and couldn’t get it replaced until today. I should have been there for you, and I wasn’t.”

  “It’s all right. I texted, but it wasn’t like I expected to hear back.”

  Expected? No.

  Hoped? Yes.

  “I want you to know I wasn’t avoiding your messages,” he said. “I wouldn’t ... avoid them, I mean.”

  “You were out with Simone. I shouldn’t have contacted you no matter what agreement we had with each other. It wouldn’t be fair to her, and I—”

  “We broke up.”

  A single drop of water fell from the sky, streaking a clear, wet line down her cheek. She flicked it away. “Why?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Of course it does. What happened?”

  “I didn’t come here today to talk about Simone,” he said. “I came to find out what happened to you last night. The real story, not some garbage told to me by a halfwit.”

  “You mean Kyle?”

  He nodded.

  “And what story would that be?”

  “The one filled with lean details I practically had to pry out of him,” Bo said. “He couldn’t stop boasting about being there for you when I wasn’t.”

  “What difference does it make if he was there or if you were? It doesn’t change anything. I’ll tell you the same thing I told him, which is the same thing I just told my parents. I’m fine. Everyone needs to chill out and stop treating me like I can’t take care of myself.”

  He frowned.

  Great job, Quinn.

  She’d insulted him, put him on the same playing field as Kyle. And they weren’t the same. Not even close.

  “I will ’chill out’ after you tell me everything you did yesterday,” Bo said, “starting from the time I dropped you off to the moment you crashed. Don’t leave anything out.”

  She blew out a long sigh. “Can it wait? It’s been a rough morning. I’ve gone from one heavy conversation to the next. I just need a minute.”

  And a deep-tissue, full-body massage. And a glass of wine. And chocolate. Yes—rich, milk chocolate.

  “Quinn, I’m a detective. This is what I do. Do me a favor, and indulge me, if for nothing more than for my own peace of mind.”

  Fine. You want it, you got it.

  She let it rip, venting the entire, jumbled mess into the air for him to untangle. The work meeting with Evie’s disgruntled employees. The visit from Janae. Marissa not showing up, and the fact no one found it alarming, not even her parents. The heart-to-heart with Rowdy. The feeling like he was hiding something, and the feeling like she was being watched when she left, (a small fact she hadn’t admitted to anyone until now). She finished with telling him about the person she thought she saw staring into her apartment window last night.

  The look on his face after it had all unraveled was of a man doing his best to hold it together, like an overinflated helium balloon ready to pop. She supposed now he’d join in with everyone else, attempt to keep her under house arrest for her own safety. She didn’t care. It wouldn’t change anything.

  “I thought we agreed you’d tell me where you were going?” he said when she finished.

  “I did. I told you I had a meeting with Evie’s employees.”

  “You didn’t tell me where you were going after. I assumed you were going home.”

  “You assumed wrong then. What I was doing, it was work related, not catch-a-killer related. How was I to know it would turn into me being run off the road?”

  “Everything you do now needs to go through me.”

  “Did you find out who slashed Roy’s tires?”

  She knew who did it. The question was asked out of her own curiosity more than anything.

  “Don’t change the subject,” he said.

  “Did you?”

  “Yeah. We know it was Ruby.”

  “How did she do it? You have men keeping an eye on Jacob, and Jacob’s with her.”

  “I didn’t say she did it with her own two hands,” he said. “She instigated it though, asked one of her minions to do it for her.”

  “She actually confessed?”

  “She didn’t have to,” he said. “The devilish grin on her face when she was questioned was confession enough. I’d like to get back to what we were discussing before.”

  “I won’t be contained.”

  “What?”

  “If you’re getting ready to tell me you expect me to sit at home until Evie’s killer is caught, I won’t do it.”

  Water fell from the sky, tiny drops, nothing more than a few innocent sprinkles at first. Bo reached a hand into an inside pocket in his jacket, pulled out an umbrella, and popped it open. “Here, this should help.”

  They turned, followed the path back out of the park.

  “I have to keep you safe,” he said.

  “Even if I have a target on my back, which at this moment, neither of us can prove, you don’t have to do anything. You’re not responsible for me.”

  “If you keep going like this, Quinn you’ll get yourself killed.”

  “You can’t predict the future. No one can. I won’t allow myself to be cooped up again. Not by you or anyone. I’ve allowed myself to be held back for years. I’m done.”

  They’d only made it halfway back to the house when he halted. “You’ve got it all wrong.”

  Focused on getting from Point A to Point B, Quinn had speed-walked several feet ahead before she realized he was no longer at her side. “What are you doing? We’re about to get soaked.”

  “I’d never hold you back from anything. I love you, Quinn.”

  His words hit her like an abrupt slap to the face, the sting of it delivering an instantaneous shock throughout her body. Her fingers went limp, the umbrella slipping from her hands. She stood for several seconds, staring at him, unsure how she felt about the sentiments he’d so honestly expressed. When reality came back into focus, she turned and did the first thing that came to mind: she ran.

  Why she was running, she couldn’t say for sure. It was easier, bought her a little more time to process, to absorb. Not that he was willing to give it. He charged after her, clutching her arm, whirling her around.

  “Did you hear me?” he asked. “I said I love you.”

  “You don’t mean it.”

  “Why not?”

  “You couldn’t possibly.”

  “Because I haven’t seen you in so many years?”

  “Because you don’t know me anymore. If you did, you might not feel the same way. I’m no good for you. You’re this perfect person. Kind and smart and forgiving. You deserve someone more. Someone better.”

  He reached out, balled a fistful of her hair in his hands, and pulled her toward him. His lips pressed against hers, lingering several seconds before he pulled away. Marcus had kissed her a thousand times ov
er the years. Not once had she felt the same tenderness Bo’s single kiss delivered.

  He cupped her chin in his hand, tilting it toward him as the rain spilled down around them. “I know you, Quinn. The real you. Yesterday, today, tomorrow—you’ve always been the same to me.”

  She could have stood there for the rest of her life, hair soggy, clothes wet, and not have cared, were it not for one thing—the unwelcome visitor standing in front of her.

  CHAPTER 48

  “So this is it,” Marcus stated. “This is why you left me. For him?”

  Marcus was parked in the driveway, leaning his body against Quinn’s repaired car.

  “It’s not what you think,” Quinn replied.

  “Isn’t it? How long have you been fornicating with this guy, huh? How long, Quinn?!”

  “I just told you. We haven’t. If you would let me explain.”

  The rain died down until only a few sporadic droplets remained. Quinn reached back, wrung her hair out.

  Marcus lifted a finger toward Bo. “You have no business putting your lips on my wife.” The same finger then shifted to Quinn. “And you. I never would have married you if I thought you were going to whore it up with another man.”

  Although there was a chill in the air, her face felt like it had been warming by the fire.

  “I won’t allow you to speak to her like that,” Bo warned.

  “She’s my wife. And I’ll speak to her in whatever way I please. I suggest you stay out of it.”

  Bo shielded Quinn, stepping in front of her. Marcus advanced forward.

  “She left you,” Bo said. “It’s over.”

  “You want her so badly? Maybe I should fill you in on the kind of woman you’re getting involved with.”

  “I’m not interested.”

  “Oh, but I insist.” Marcus snickered, tossing a sarcastic look in Quinn’s direction. “She’ll hook you. Reel you in. Get you to fall in love with her, and when she’s succeeded, and you’re married, it’s game over when it comes to sex. You’ll be lucky if she puts out twice a month. Once that happens, you’ll have a decision to make—get yourself a hot piece of ass on the side, or live a life of celibacy. I took the high road, remained faithful, which I now see was a bad decision on my part.”

  It was game over all right. With Marcus, it had always been all sex and no foreplay. No intimacy. No bonding. More of a chore than anything else.

  Bo clenched his jaw. “Maybe Quinn wasn’t interested because she missed what it was like to be with a real man.”

  Marcus lunged at Bo, his half-hearted attempt to strike with his fist missing by a few inches. Bo seized Marcus’s hands, wrenching them back as he shoved him inside Quinn’s car. “You get one chance to leave. If I see you again, I won’t be just some guy you saw kissing your soon-to-be ex-wife, I’ll be Detective McCallister, and you’ll be arrested for assault.”

  Marcus spewed one last threat at Quinn as he jerked the car out of the driveway. “I’ll see to it you get nothing. You hear me?!”

  She crossed her arms in front of her. “You don’t get it Marcus. I don’t want anything from you. I never did.”

  CHAPTER 49

  Quinn changed clothes and towel-dried her hair, tossing it back into a loose bun. Bo flipped the switch to the electric fireplace, squatted in front of it.

  “Your shirt is soaked,” she said. “Sorry I don’t have anything else you can put on. I can ask my dad if he does.”

  “It’s nothing the warmth of this fire won’t dry—unless you’d like me to go.”

  She sat down next to him. “I had an interesting talk with Astrid this morning. We sorted some things out. I wouldn’t say things are good between us, but everything’s clear now. In the open. What she did, it was over the puppy love she had for you.”

  “I assumed as much.”

  “She thought I stole you away from her. I don’t know what it will take for me to get past it, but she did raise an important point.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “What’s that?”

  To get everything out in the open.

  She just wasn’t sure she could do it.

  “I met Marcus over spring break, right after I’d walked in on you and my sister. The night before I came home from California, I was at a bonfire on the beach. I kept playing out what I saw between you and Astrid over and over in my mind, and I indulged in a fair amount of alcohol. I met Marcus. We had sex. The next day, I vaguely remembered it. I couldn’t decide whether it happened or whether I’d dreamt it did. And Evie was no help. She was there, but she’d been hammered too. After I came back home, Marcus started calling me. At first, I ignored the calls.”

  “What made you change your mind?”

  Sitting there next to him, she felt like she had a live grenade in her hand and was about to pull the pin.

  “I found out I was pregnant. The day we graduated, I was already carrying Marcus’s child.”

  He didn’t speak for a long moment, then said, “Did you tell him?”

  “I didn’t. I selfishly thought of myself. I didn’t want anyone to know I’d been knocked up by some random guy I had a one-night stand with on spring break. All I could think about was how much shame it would bring to my family. And to me.”

  “He must have found out eventually.”

  “He did ... after we married.”

  “I’m shocked he didn’t notice before.”

  “It all happened so fast, there wasn’t time. He was smitten with me when we met. And he wasn’t patient. He’s not the kind of guy who waits for anything. When he sees what he wants, he has to have it. He didn’t care how well we knew each other. He proposed; we got married.”

  Bo stroked his chin with his hand like he was combing out an invisible goatee. “So what he said earlier—”

  “About the sex?”

  Bo nodded. “You don’t have to talk about it. I’m not asking you because I want you to explain.”

  “Sleeping with Marcus was like having sex with a machine. No feeling. No intimacy. No foreplay. He just forced himself on me, did his business, and then rolled over and went to sleep. You can see why it didn’t take long for me to make excuses to stop having it.”

  “Why did you stay with him for so long?”

  “For Isaiah. He was his father. Marcus kept saying if I left, he had the power to take my son away from me. He’s a powerful man. I believed him. When Isaiah died, I wanted to leave. I thought about it several times. I just wasn’t strong enough.”

  “Having a friend like Evie, the kind of parents you have, I can’t believe none of them intervened.”

  “They didn’t because I didn’t tell anyone. I couldn’t. I made up a life that didn’t exist. Evie wasn’t stupid though, and I expect my parents weren’t either. Evie could tell I wasn’t happy. I thought she always assumed the melancholy was over my son. I was wrong. She knew. Before she died, she mentioned it in the letter she left me.”

  “If it’s not too difficult to talk about, I’ve always wondered what happened to your son.”

  “It was an accident. He was staying the weekend at Marcus’s parents’ house. Playing in the backyard. He tripped, fell into the pool. No one was watching, and, when they finally noticed he was missing, it was too late. He drowned.”

  Bo scooted closer, planted a kiss on her forehead, draped an arm around her. “I’m so sorry. It must have been awful for you.”

  “It was. I blamed myself for a long time.”

  “You weren’t even there when it happened. How could it possibly have been your fault?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “When it’s your own child, somehow it just is.”

  “When we were outside earlier, you said I wasn’t any good for you. You’re wrong, Quinn. I’m not just good for you. I’m here for you. I just hope one day you’ll believe it.”

  CHAPTER 50

  Marissa wrestled, seesawing her wrists back and forth against the coarse wood grain of the chair she was perched on. She’d been at it f
or hours now, but it didn’t matter. The rope wouldn’t loosen. It was tied too tight. And even if it wasn’t, even if she’d managed to spring a single hand free, it was too late. She couldn’t escape now if she wanted. Her captor had returned. She’d heard his car humming in the driveway a few minutes ago. It ran for several minutes before the engine chugged and all was quiet again. A door opened and closed, and every fiber of her being spasmed at the same time.

  The house he’d brought her to was unusual. A two-story abandoned farmhouse, out of town by several miles. She’d never been here before. The room she was in had a concrete floor and a gut-wrenching stench, reeking of decades of stale animal skins. A bear hide was nailed to one wall, the fur of an elk nailed to another.

  At least she couldn’t see them anymore.

  Marissa had been sitting in the dark basement for so long she’d lost track of time. She didn’t even know if it was still the same day or not. Her stomach churned, desperate for even the tiniest morsel, and her mouth was parched, like she’d been sucking on pieces of cotton. Every sound fed into her paranoia, and she envisioned mice crawling at her feet, or worse.

  Rats.

  Tears gushed down her face as she tried to make sense of it all. Kyle had always been so kind before today. So caring. It was as if a screw had come loose in his brain, fueling an inner rage, and she was the intended target.

  The basement door cracked open, and her stomach lurched. He was coming. A long, overhead light flickered on and off several times before a fluorescent glow prevailed. She closed her eyes, the blast of white almost blinding after a lengthy span of blackness.

  Footsteps shuffled down the stairs, stopping three quarters of the way down. He sat on the edge of an unfinished wood stair, glanced down at her. His eyes looked different. Screwy. Deranged. He wasn’t himself. Not anymore.

  She sat straight up, her eyes coming to rest on the .357 Magnum Smith & Wesson laying sideways across his right pants leg. It was like he wanted her to see it, wanted her to know it was there. But why? Was this some kind of joke? Part of an elaborate sex game? They’d experimented before, almost always at his insistence. She never minded. It was fun. Sexy. After all, how many girls her age could say they were the mistress of a man so much older than they were? Thinking about it now, her friends wouldn’t have believed her anyway. Kyle was one of the town cops, and he was getting his rocks off with an underage high school student.