A View to a Kill

by Cheryl Bradshaw

  “Why am I here?” she asked. “Why am I tied up? You haven’t said a word to me since you brought me to this hellhole.”

  He rubbed one hand over the other. Kept staring.

  “How long are you going to keep me here?” she continued. “Answer me!”

  A slight laugh escaped his lips. “Well now ... that all depends on you, Marissa.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  He tipped his head to the side. “Don’t you?”

  She fisted her hands. “Why are you doing this to me?! This isn’t funny.”

  “Doin’ this to you? What about what you’ve done to me?”

  “I haven’t done anything. And hey, if you think no one’s gonna come looking for me—you’re wrong. Just because you’re a cop doesn’t mean you won’t get caught. When they look up my phone records, they’ll see your number all over them.”

  He dug into his pocket, waved a cheap, plastic flip phone into the air. “You mean this phone? This burner phone? They won’t find a thing.”

  “Let me go, Kyle. I want to go home.”

  He lifted a finger into the air. “Utt, utt, utt. I talk now. You listen. How much does she know about us? What have you told her?”

  “What?”

  “I want the truth, now,” he said. “No lies.”

  “I just told you. No one knows a thing.”

  “You were with her at the cemetery. You were talkin’ about me.”

  “I don’t know what you are talking about!”

  He stood, aimed the pistol in her direction, and fired. The bullet pierced a hole right below her calf muscle. Blood dripped down her leg, filling the inside of her tennis shoe. She squealed in pain. “You asshole! You friggin’ shot me!”

  “Don’t play games with me, Marissa.”

  She wasn’t playing anything.

  “Kyle, you’re scaring me. Stop this. Let me go!”

  “You women ... you’re all like a mess of weeds. Cut one down, and the next day you multiply. Quinn Montgomery knows about us. I’ve been followin’ her, trying to contain it, askin’ myself how she knows. The answer is simple. You told her. What I need to know is, what did you say?”

  Her leg was throbbing, the pain mounting. Uttering a few simple words in response seemed near impossible. It wasn’t true. Quinn didn’t know anything. She couldn’t possibly.

  “Answer me!” he demanded.

  “I haven’t told anyone about us, Kyle, just like we agreed.”

  “You’re. Still. Lying!”

  Tears flowed. “Please. If you could just—”

  He was laughing again. “You were nothin’ but an insignificant, temporary plaything. A teenage slut. A filler. Someone to pass the time. And now your time is over.”

  “What we had between us, it meant something to me.”

  He rolled his eyes. Her attempt to find a way to appease him wasn’t working.

  “I saw you talkin’ to Quinn at the cemetery yesterday, watched the entire intimate conversation. You told her what was between us didn’t you?”

  He blathered on, kept repeating “she knows,” saying he had to do something about it, like Quinn was an unmanageable dog he needed to put down.

  The man was delusional. The one-hundred-percent-certifiable-mental-patient kind of crazy. And he had a new fixation—Quinn—a woman who hadn’t done a thing to deserve it.

  She bit down, forced herself to talk through the pain. “We talked about work. And Evie. That’s all.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Give me your phone. I’ll call her right now, put her on speaker, so you can hear it for yourself.”

  “Just how stupid do you think I am?”

  Kyle ran a hand down his face, considered Marissa’s statement, started pacing. He stopped, squatted in front of her. “Maybe you’re right, Marissa. Maybe Quinn doesn’t know anything. Still, I need to be sure.”

  He pawed down the side of her face with his hand. The thought of him touching her now sickened her, but what choice did she have? She’d do anything to save her own life.

  Anything.

  “I’d never lie to you, Kyle. The time we spent together, I’ll cherish it. Always.”

  She hoped her words would elicit even the faintest glimmer of compassion.

  They didn’t.

  “Even so, I have plans for her. For us. I can’t take a chance that she’ll find out about you.”

  “I just thought ... I mean ... I’m turning seventeen soon, and I was hoping we could ...”

  He pressed three fingers to his lips. “Oh, well, look at that. You really believed we had a future together. How sweet.”

  “You can still release me. It’s not too late.”

  “Sorry, darlin’, I just can’t risk it. I’m not goin’ to prison for you.”

  “But what we did, it was consensual.”

  “Doesn’t matter. You’re an underage kid, and I’m a cop.”

  She tried to keep her wits about her, remain calm by taking a series of short breaths. In. Out. In. Out. It seemed to help until he said, “You understand I have no choice. I have to kill you now.”

  He raised the pistol to the center of her forehead and pulled back on the hammer. It clicked into the firing position. If she had a final plea to make, she needed to make it now. “Wait! Kyle, please. I’m pregnant.”

  He stepped back so quickly, he lost his footing, tripping over a metal toolbox on the floor behind him. The pistol tumbled from his hand, clanking against the solid ground and firing a bullet that shot a hole through the only side window in the room. Kyle pounded a fist on the ground before retrieving the pistol, standing back up again. “Why should I believe you’re pregnant?”

  “Go to the store, buy a test. I’ll pee on a stick if you want, prove I’m serious.”

  Beads of sweat gathered on his forehead. “It’s not mine. Can’t be. We used protection every time.”

  “Not every time.”

  He glanced to the side, thought about it, seeming to recall a few times he probably now regretted. “I thought you said you were on the pill.”

  I ... uhh ... stopped taking the pill two months ago.”

  “You what?”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to go to college, and I thought once I got pregnant, you’d want to be together.”

  “You ... betrayed me. You went behind my back.”

  She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. The same man who several minutes before had called her insignificant, a temporary plaything, now acted as if he was the victim.

  Fingers spread, he chanted the same sentence over and over again. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

  She didn’t care what had happened. She cared about being alive.

  “I can’t kill a baby,” he continued. “Naw, naw, naw. A baby? My baby? How was I supposed to know about the baby? I wasn’t. I couldn’t. I ...” His words trailed off, his eyelids diminishing into slits while he took a good, long look at her. “All of this, it’s your fault.”

  “All of what?”

  “You still don’t get it, do you? I killed Evie Richelle.”

  No. It wasn’t true. He didn’t. He couldn’t have. “I ... I ... don’t understand.”

  “About a week and a half ago she saw us.”

  “What? Where?”

  “It was the night I dropped you back off at work to get your car.”

  “That’s not possible. The store was closed. No one was there.”

  “Evie was. Sitting in her car. Watching the two of us, wonderin’ why you were in the front seat of my patrol car. Problem was, it was dark so I didn’t see her at first. We were kissing. My hands were all over you. And she saw. She saw it all. I knew she wouldn’t be able to turn a blind eye. She never does. It’s just not who she is. She would have ratted me out or tried to convince you to say I was the one being inappropriate. Say you were raped or somethin’.”

  “So you—”

  “Caught her
by surprise. Did what needed to be done.”

  He was confessing for a reason. This was the end. Her end. Baby or no, her fate had been decided. There would be no arguing with her parents about college. No future life for her in Cody. Not a single moment of joy knowing what it was like to be a mother for the first time. She’d never see her baby. Not in this life. “I’ll do anything you want, Kyle. I’ll make something up, tell my parents I got pregnant from a one-night stand with a boy I didn’t know. I’ll fix it. You’ll see.”

  “You teens. You’re all the same. Every last one of you. Think you can bat an eyelash, say the right words, twist your lips into a perfect smile, and you’ll have us men beggin’ at your feet.”

  Once again the pistol was raised to her forehead, and she heard the last words she’d ever hear. “Well guess what, darlin’? Ain’t gonna happen today, I’m afraid.”

  CHAPTER 51

  At half past four in the afternoon, Marissa was officially declared missing. And unlike the previous evening, where excuses were made and reality had yet to set in, the panic surrounding her disappearance started to spread. Marissa’s cell phone was located in the middle of the street about a half mile from her parents’ house. It was crushed, having been run over a couple times like it had been tossed from a car window, or possibly dropped at the point of abduction.

  Quinn sat behind Marissa’s desk at work. Store closed for the day, she’d locked the front doors as Bo had requested and sent everyone home. His desire may have been for her to be permanently attached at the hip, but with the news of a possible kidnapping, he didn’t have much choice in the matter. And she had some sleuthing of her own to do.

  Marissa’s desk was, in a word, disheveled—the drawers cluttered with candy wrappers, various containers of eye shadow (some with the lids still on, and some without), and a stack of mostly empty, unused notebooks. She’d just turned the first page in the fourth notebook and discovered a series of doodles penned in ink on a lined page. The drawings were a series of heads. Men’s heads. She flipped to the next page, and this time the doodles were all of babies.

  The front door rattled, and Quinn looked up, noting the sun had set. It was almost dark outside, and Bo still hadn’t returned to retrieve her. She worried about what that meant, or if they had any leads, or if they’d found her, and if they had, whether she was alive or dead.

  Felicity stood at the door, a drink in each hand. Quinn approached the door, didn’t open it.

  “Felicity, what are you doing here?”

  She held two cups into the air. “I have coffee.”

  “I see, but I sent you home a couple hours ago.”

  “I know. I just thought I could help.”

  “With what?”

  “Whatever it is you’re doing?”

  At least she was motivated.

  Or was she?

  Felicity was an odd bird, to say the least, her current attire consisting of a pair of multi-colored Aztec-patterned leggings, a long, bright green button-up shirt, and a very pointy pair of metallic flats. Her shoulder-length, light brown hair with purple highlights had been pinned back on both sides with bobby pins.

  “If you’re wondering whether I’ve heard any news about Marissa, I haven’t,” Quinn said.

  Felicity’s shoulders sagged, revealing the true reason she’d popped by with a liquid offering. “I live alone. It was hard enough to go home each night after hearing what happened to Evie. And now, with Marissa gone, I’m a little on edge. Probably sounds stupid, right?”

  Quinn twisted the bolt on the front door, let Felicity in, locked the door behind her. “You’re not the only one who’s worried. Right now, I’m sure everyone is.”

  Felicity handed Quinn the coffee, and said, “So ... whatcha doing?”

  “Going through Marissa’s desk. I expect the cops will want to look through it too. I figured, I may not have any idea what they’d look for, but if it helps, why not get a head start?”

  Felicity scanned the desk, turned the notebook toward herself. “What are these?”

  “Drawings, I guess.”

  She pointed to one of the male heads. “This guy looks a lot like Rowdy.”

  Felicity was right. The face shape was the same, the eyes, the hair.

  “Why would she be sketching pictures of Rowdy?”

  Felicity bit the inside of her lower lip.

  “Felicity,” Quinn said, “if there’s something you know, now’s the time.”

  “It’s not that I don’t want to say. It’s just ... she asked me to keep it a secret, and I said I would.”

  “Tell me.”

  “I think Rowdy and Marissa are together—in a relationship.”

  “What do you mean you think?”

  “Well, they flirt a lot, and she told me she was involved in a secret relationship with someone.”

  “Did she say it was with Rowdy?” Quinn asked.

  “Well, no. Not in so many words.”

  “Why don’t you tell me exactly what she said?”

  “I just did.”

  “Why do you think the guy was Rowdy?”

  “He’s sweet on her. I can tell. He’s always staring at her. I figured it had to be him.”

  “Why keep it a secret?” Quinn asked.

  “He’s older than her. Her parents would never approve. She was working up the nerve to talk to them about it.”

  Quinn flipped the notebook page. “Any idea why she’d be drawing babies?”

  “Last week she threw up at work. She left for a few minutes, and then came back, and went into the bathroom. She came out and left again, and I ... umm ... well, it’s just I thought the whole thing was strange, so I went into the bathroom.”

  “And?”

  “I found a pregnancy test in the trash.”

  “You just found it, huh?”

  Felicity’s cheeks reddened. “I know. I shouldn’t have. I couldn’t help it.”

  “I’m assuming the test was positive?”

  Felicity nodded.

  “Did you say anything to her?”

  “I didn’t. I felt bad enough meddling in her business. I was waiting for her to tell me herself. I figured she’d have to sooner or later, right?”

  “We need to give this information to the police. This could mean something. It could help.”

  “You can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “They’ll think Rowdy had something to do with her disappearance. He didn’t.”

  “Listen to me. If Rowdy’s innocent, he has no reason to be worried. But this has to come out.”

  Quinn reached for her cell phone on the desk and heard what sounded like a pen tapping on the office door. Thinking it was Bo, she tossed the phone and walked over. The person at the door was a man—just not the man she expected.

  CHAPTER 52

  Kyle curved a hand over the door, talked through the glass. “Hey Quinn.”

  “Shouldn’t you be with Bo?”

  “He didn’t need me, cut me loose.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  He smiled. “I was just drivin’ by, saw you were still here. Thought I’d keep you company. You shouldn’t be alone right now.”

  “I’m fine. The front door’s locked, and Bo will be back soon.”

  He clamped his fingers together on the sides of his nose, whipped his head back and sneezed. A round pendant dangling from a chain around his neck thrust forward, the circular-shaped metal close enough for her to see.

  Time slowed to a screeching stop. In the center of the pendant was a lion. Paws up. Crown on his head.

  Her name was grunted from behind. Her head made the slightest movement to the left. Felicity’s eyes were propped open wide enough to toss a large coin in. She’d tilted the notebook just enough for Quinn to notice her fingertip pressing onto a sketch of a man Marissa had drawn on another page of the notebook. The man was Kyle.

  Marissa’s secret relationship wasn’t with Rowdy. It was with Kyle.

&
nbsp; “Felicity,” Quinn whispered. “Take my cell phone off Marissa’s desk, go into Evie’s office, lock the door, and call Bo. Do not dial 9-1-1 or call the police. No matter whatever happens, do not come out.”

  Felicity froze.

  “Go, Felicity. Now!”

  Kyle’s head shifted left, then right, peering inside the office, around the room. “Is someone else here with you?”

  Quinn did her best to compose herself. “Kyle, I think I can hear my phone ringing. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

  In a flash, his face screwed itself into a shape reminiscent of the sadistic clown in Stephen King’s It.

  It was too late.

  He knew she knew.

  CHAPTER 53

  The edges of Kyle’s fingernails tapped at the glass. “Open the door, Quinn.”

  Quinn backed up. “Bo’s on his way, Kyle. Get out of here while you still can.”

  “Well, then,” he laughed. “There’s no time to lose, is there?”

  He scissor-stepped back, and Quinn saw what he was holding—a gun. He fired a single shot at the door. Fingers spread, Quinn shielded her face as fragmented shards of glass peppered the room.

  Quinn turned, sprinting in the other direction, her head swiveling from one corner of the room to the next. Seeing minimal options, she dove into a hallway at the far corner. Her hands were slippery, too clammy to keep hold of her gun. With haste, she smeared her palm along the checkered commercial carpeting like a gymnast coating her hands with chalk.

  Kyle stepped inside, the heels of his shoes crunching against the glass.

  “I have a gun,” she warned. “Don’t come any closer.”

  “You don’t have shit.”

  She extended her arm, firing a warning shot into an adjacent wall.

  “Impressive,” he jeered. “Guess we have ourselves a good old-fashioned shootout. Although, we’ll need to speed things up. I am a bit short on time.”

  “Where’s Marissa?”