He was still laughing when they headed out of town. This new mood terrified Julie.
“Where are we going, Quinn?” She tried to sound cool, relaxed.
Quinn wagged a finger before her face.
“It’s a surprise,” he said. “You’ll love it, Alison. It’s the perfect way for us to be together forever.”
She could see now where they were going. They were on the road to The Point.
The Point. The bluff overlooking the Potomac River and the falls.
The place Quinn had been so afraid Julie had gone on dates.
The place where he’d killed Karen Slack. Julie felt another wave of nausea.
When they reached the turnoff to The Point, Quinn stopped the car, his arms, crossed at the wrist, resting lightly on the wheel.
“Have you guessed my surprise yet, Alison?”
A surprise like Karen Slack got? Julie thought. “No, Quinn, please. Take me home. Oh, please, Quinn!” Julie was sobbing now, too terrified to speak clearly.
Quinn backed up the car, looking over his shoulder. He seemed to be aligning the vehicle with the observation platform.
A wave of relief swept over Julie. “Where are we going? Back to town?”
“Back? No, Alison, we can never go back. Only forward. The two of us, together forever.”
He gazed at her tenderly, lovingly. “Can’t you see how perfect it is? Just one moment of flying, and then an eternity of happiness together.”
He put the car in overdrive.
Julie knew now what he planned to do. Drive them over the cliff. Kill them both.
“No! No!” she sobbed. “I don’t want to die!”
“But we’ll be famous, Alison.” Quinn sounded surprised and faintly reproving. “Lovers will come up here and be inspired by our love and the beautiful gift we gave each other. Poets will write poems about us. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, sweetheart? To have people remember our love forever?”
He reached over and took her hand.
Julie tried to pull her hand from his, but he wouldn’t let go.
She went crazy, caught in a frenzy of fear and frustration. Wildly, she yanked on his hand. His grip tightened.
With her other hand she frantically tried to open the car door on her side.
“What are you doing?” he demanded. “Are you trying to get away? Why do you want to spoil things, Alison?”
“Quinn!” Julie cried. “Look at me! I’m not Alison. I’m Julie. Julie! And I don’t want to die. I don’t want to go over the cliff with you. I don’t want to be famous. I just want to live. Live, Quinn!” She sobbed uncontrollably. “Please! Please, Quinn!”
He looked at her as if he hadn’t recognized her until now.
Through the holes in the death’s-head mask, Julie could see his eyes losing their wild look. It was almost as if the old Quinn, the boy she’d loved, was looking out at her again.
“Julie? Julie, is that you?”
“Yes. It’s always been me.”
“I’ve been so mixed up. It’s like another person comes in and out of my body sometimes.”
Quinn released her hand and took off his mask.
His thick, dark hair tumbled over his forehead. For an instant Julie remembered the way he looked the first time she saw him.
“I think I’ve done some terrible things, Julie.”
Julie nodded. “Yes, but we can get help for you. You need help, Quinn.”
He smiled a little, that scarred, pirate smile.
Then he ran his hand gently over her hair, caressing every strand lovingly, the way he used to. “I love you, Julie. I’d never hurt you. You know that, don’t you?”
He reached across her and opened her door. “Get out of the car.”
For a moment she couldn’t move. She sat staring at him, her eyes wide.
He leaned over and kissed her gently, his lips warm and smooth. “Get out, Julie.”
She crawled out, her legs trembling.
Then Quinn revved the car and floored the gas pedal. The car threw up gravel as it streaked forward toward the observation platform.
Julie had just begun to scream when the car smashed through the railing and went over the cliff.
It seemed to hang in midair for a moment. Then it tipped crazily and fell. She heard a crash and a shuddering echo. She knew the car had fallen among the sharp, jagged rocks that lay, partially submerged, in the river just below the falls.
By the time Julie could make her legs carry her to the edge of the cliff to look down, the car was on fire.
It teetered on the edge of a large, flat rock. The current of the river was making it move back and forth. Soon it would be swept away.
Quinn—was he in that car, burning?
Julie hoped he was already dead. She couldn’t bear the thought of him feeling that fire, feeling it consuming his flesh, burning him alive.
But he wasn’t in the car. The flames revealed a dark figure, sprawled on a nearby rock. The impact of the crash must have flung him from the car when it hit.
He wasn’t moving. He was lying on his back, and his head was twisted at an unnatural angle. His arms and legs were flung out, bent, and Julie saw that they were bent the wrong way.
No one’s legs, she thought, with rising hysteria, bend that way.
He was dead. She knew, then, that he was dead.
The car tipped back and forth again and then slipped into the river. It was borne, still blazing, downstream.
Julie stood a moment, head bowed, looking down at the broken body on the rocks, feeling a deep, aching pity for Quinn.
She also felt a spasm of loss that would get worse, she knew, before it got better. It would never go away. She knew that. But maybe it would get better.
Julie sat down weakly on the edge of the wooden platform and put her head in her hands.
And then, at last, she cried.
Great, racking sobs nearly wrenched her apart. Tears flowed down her cheeks and she wiped them away with the palms of her hands.
Then she folded her arms on her knees, rested her head on them, and cried some more.
When she was finally done, her eyes were so swollen she could barely see, but she felt better. Cleansed, somehow. At peace.
And then, to her great surprise, she realized she was hungry.
Yes, she was hungry and her stomach was growling. Julie couldn’t remember the last time she’d been hungry. Food hadn’t mattered to her these past ten days.
And then she thought about Brad. How kind he’d been to her. And she had always thought of him as conceited and silly.
What’s the matter with me? she wondered. What kind of person am I, to be thinking about food and Brad Stafford right now, after what I’ve been through? After what’s happened to Quinn?
A survivor, that’s what.
Maybe there really were such things as survivors. And maybe she was one.
I’ll just rest here for a few more minutes, Julie thought. And then I’ll start walking.
It was a long way back to town.
Love You to Death Page 13