by Jane Blythe
“Ryan and I will check into all the Everette employees who have access to the security code, see if we can eliminate them.” Paige was sure it wasn’t any of the staff that had committed the murders. She was still positive that Brooke was the key to solving this case. She was the first victim, the catalyst in the killer’s twisted mind.
“The clock is ticking,” Belinda reminded them. “If the killer sticks to his pattern, there will be another victim tonight.”
* * * * *
11:13 P.M.
Gloria rubbed her tender arm as she wandered through the grounds to the small guesthouse nestled down the back near the orchard.
She would never again spend another night in her husband’s bed. Fifty years of abuse was long enough; she would not allow that man to hurt her ever again. This feeling of newfound confidence was exhilarating. She felt like a bird soaring through the wide blue sky, the whole world laid out before her, nothing stopping her from exploring every inch of it.
Of course, Logan hadn’t been pleased when she’d told him she was leaving him. He’d ranted and raged, grabbed her arm and twisted it till she was sure it was going to snap like a twig. But now Logan had nothing left to hold over her head. It was too late for his threats and his blackmail. She was finished. It was done. In the morning she would pack her bags and leave this horrible place forever.
Gloria still remembered her first day here as if it were yesterday. She had been so young, so innocent, so naïve back then. Just eighteen years old, fresh from her family home, never spent a night away from her father. Gloria’s mother had died in childbirth, and with no siblings, she and her father had grown very close. Growing up without a mother had also filled Gloria with the desire to be a mother herself one day. To hold her child in her arms and give them everything she had missed out on. It was with that dream that she had entered into marriage.
One month before their wedding was the first time she had met Logan Everette II. Her father, a renowned chef who worked in the Everette family’s favorite restaurant, had arranged the marriage. She’d been scared at first, of leaving her father, of taking the final step into adulthood, of committing her life to someone she didn’t even know. But her father had assured her that Logan would give her everything she would ever need.
Her father had been disinherited by his wealthy family when he made the choice not to follow in his father’s footsteps and take on the family business, instead deciding to become a chef. Something his family looked down upon. Still, Gloria's mother had been wealthy, too, and her father had inherited a large sum of money upon her death. Plus her father was well paid; she had lived a very comfortable existence. And yet she had still been completely blown away by the extravagance and grandeur of the Everette family estate.
The dreams and joy with which she had been filled that first day she had walked onto this vast estate had been shattered on her wedding night. Logan had sat her down, told her he didn’t love her or even care about her, and that her only job in life was to provide him with an heir. She’d been shocked and confused and told him she couldn’t live in a loveless marriage. He’d laughed in her face, telling her that if she ever disobeyed him, he’d ruin her father and make him suffer.
One month later he’d begun his first affair. She’d awakened one morning to find him in her bathroom moaning in delight as he was pleasured by one of the maids. The affairs, the abuse—never physical, tonight excepted, always psychological and emotional—the isolation, she was not allowed to work nor have friends, had quickly drained her lively young spirit and she had spiraled into depression. Things grew worse when she failed to carry to term, suffering miscarriage after miscarriage, until seven years later it reached a climax and she swallowed half a bottle of sleeping pills.
Waking in the hospital to find a gentle young doctor standing over her, for the first time in seven years she felt a twinge of life flutter through her. Those days in the hospital were amongst the happiest in her adult life, and when the young doctor had shyly approached her one evening she had all too eagerly fallen into bed with him.
If Logan could cheat, then so could she.
It all ended too quickly. Eleven days after her suicide attempt, Logan whisked her back to the estate and her life of drudgery resumed. But the doctor had left her with a precious gift; she was pregnant, and finally managed to carry a child to term. Logan Everette III was a perfectly healthy, beautiful baby boy. For the next two years her life was perfect. She didn't care about her husband’s affairs, she didn’t care that she had no friends, her little boy kept her completely happy and fulfilled.
Until that awful winter day.
She’d had the flu, been sick in bed for over a week, her bubbly, energetic toddler, desperate to escape being cooped up in the house, had finally been allowed a trip to the frozen pond with one of the maids. The icy water fascinated little Logan, he always wanted to walk along it, stopping sporadically to bend down and check it was still frozen. Many a time when she was giving him his nightly bath he talked about the pond, and how the water froze, and could she make his bath water do the same thing.
It was the frozen lake that took her little boy from her. Toddling across it, the thin ice had broken underneath him, sending him plunging into the freezing water. The maid had tried to get to him, but it was too late. By the time he had eventually been pulled from the water he was already gone.
After that, the world became a black, hollow, empty place.
Gloria had always had her suspicions that her son’s death was not an accident, that Logan had discovered her affair and realized that his namesake was not his child.
After burying her baby in a tiny white coffin, his favorite stuffed bunny clutched in his small hand, she had been ready to end her own life, desperate to be reunited with her son. However, Logan had other plans. He’d sat her down, announced she was never going to provide him with the heir he so desperately desired, so he was going to find a surrogate—someone to simply bear his child. But she, and she alone, would play the role of mother. She had screamed that her child was barely cold in his grave and yet he wanted her to play mother to someone else’s children. Logan had simply given her a chilling smile, and reminded her that if she didn’t go along with this he would divorce her, take the money she had inherited from her grandparents and leave her destitute before ruining her father. Gloria hadn’t cared about the money, but she couldn’t allow Logan to hurt her father.
And so the affairs began in earnest, Logan almost consumed by the need to sire a child. Then along came Logan IV, then Lewis and Lincoln, Sofia and Isabella. He had affair after affair as her husband sought out the perfect women to bear his children and then relinquish them to him. It seemed that the older he got, the younger his women became. Gloria had played her part, been the loyal wife and mother, but she had hated every second of it. Hated her husband, hated his children, who were a constant reminder of the son that had been taken from her.
No more, tomorrow would be the first day of the rest of her life. She may be sixty-eight years old but she had some life left in her yet...
A white-hot bolt of agony erupted in her left leg and she crumpled to the ground, clutching at her leg, trying to find the cause of the agony. Shrinking away as the bat connected a second time, this time shattering her right leg. Bile rose in her throat and she threw up, coughing and spluttering and trying desperately to breathe through the pain so she could comprehend what had just happened.
Before Gloria could get a handle on the overwhelming throbbing in her legs, someone grabbed her by the arms and began to drag her through the woods. The movement had her shrieking, as her injured legs bumped over rocks and roots.
She must have passed out from the pain because when she next opened her eyes, she was down by the lake. Trying to will her fuzzy mind to focus, someone had attacked her, broken both her legs, then dragged her all the way to the lake.
Was the someone her husband?
She hadn’t seen a face, just a shadow standing over her as the bat ha
d come swinging through the air toward her. Other than her husband, she couldn’t think of anyone who would want to hurt her, but then she thought of Brooke, and Lewis and Samantha. Maybe whoever had attacked her was the same person who had...
“You’re a lot heavier than you look, Gloria,” a voice puffed beside her.
Panic began to claw at her chest, dulling the pain ever so slightly. She dug her nails into the soft dirt, trying desperately to drag herself to safety, but when she tried to move her legs, the pain was so excruciating all she could do was sob.
Chuckling, “Not that way, Gloria.”
Once again her arms were grasped and she was pulled along, this time into the lake. She sucked in a breath as she entered the freezing water, but at least the cold temporarily numbed her legs.
“Any last words?”
“You’ll burn in hell,” she managed to spit out.
“I’ll meet you there.”
Then Gloria’s head was pushed under the water. She fought valiantly despite the fact she was basically immobile from the waist down.
A minute later she went still.
AUGUST 15th
9:33 A.M.
“We’re family. How could you?”
“How could I what?” Sofia asked wearily. She hadn’t slept well last night, haunted by dreams or memories or whatever they were from her childhood. Then she’d been awakened early with news of Gloria’s death and been summoned to the mansion to partake in a family meeting.
“You’ve been talking to the police,” her father snapped. “Or more specifically, to Detective Xander. Do you have a little crush on him?”
Sofia was frustrated by her father’s tone and the underlying implication that Ryan was beneath them simply because he wasn’t wealthy. She did like Ryan; he was sweet, kind, caring, had a big heart. But she wasn’t stupid. All of those qualities meant he was more than likely already taken. Besides, what did it really matter? Someone was clearly out to get her family. Brooke was dead, Lewis and Samantha were dead, and now Gloria was dead. How long till the rest of them wound up dead, too?
“It’s a murder investigation,” she reminded the judge. “I only told them things I thought could be important.”
“I don’t want you talking to them again without my permission,” her father spoke through clenched teeth.
“I’m not a child,” Sofia reminded him patiently. “You can’t tell me what to do anymore. If I want to speak to the police, I will and . . .”
“Why do you always have to cause trouble, Sofia?” Logan Junior asked, entering the room, Simone at his side.
“Why do you always have to be so stupid?” Logan Senior turned his anger from her to her oldest brother.
“What did I do?” Logan Junior whined.
“You opened your mouth,” Logan Senior glared. “What is the matter with you two?” He turned to include her in his glare. “What have I always taught you? You never speak about private family matters with outsiders.”
“You’re one to talk,” her brother shrugged off his wife’s restraining hand. “You were blaming the murders on me to the police.”
“Idiot boy,” her father rolled his eyes. “That’s just what the police wanted you to think. Don’t be so gullible.”
“I’m not an idiot,” Logan pouted.
“Then why did you admit to the police that you had been having an affair with Brooke Mariano and that she claimed you were her unborn fetus’ father?”
“I didn’t, you already told them that,” Logan Junior’s face was an unnatural shade of red, his rage palpable.
“How can you be my son?” The judge shook his head in disbelief. “Try to understand this, the police were lying to you so that you would open up to them. And it worked like a charm. You couldn’t keep your mouth shut if your life depended on it. And not only did you admit to having an affair with Brooke, but you told them that I was sleeping with her too, and that either of us could have been the father of her child. And if that isn’t bad enough, you actually told them that if you had killed Brooke, you would have killed her child as well.”
“Who cares if we were sleeping with her,” Logan Junior shrugged unabashedly, apparently not concerned about discussing his affairs with his wife in the room. “Sex isn’t illegal and neither is having an affair. You should know all about that.”
“You shut your mouth, boy,” the judge took a threatening step toward his namesake.
“Stop it, just stop it,” Sofia shrieked, appalled by both her father and her brother and their attitude toward Brooke and this whole horrible mess, and unable to take any more of their bickering. “Brooke is dead, Lewis and Samantha are dead, Gloria is dead. We can’t turn on each other now. The killer is picking us off one by one; any of us could be the next victim.”
“Don’t be so melodramatic, Sofia,” Lincoln admonished, entering the room and taking a seat at the table.
“And you, young lady,” her father turned his rage back onto her. “Telling the police that Brooke was Isabella’s mother, where do you come up with these notions?”
“It’s not a notion, father,” she lowered her voice, aware that Isabella could well be listening from just outside the door. “I know that Brooke was Isabella’s mother.” Sofia remembered vividly the night she had awakened from another bout of sleepwalking to find Brooke Mariano giving birth.
“That’s right,” her father mocked. “You dreamed it, so it must be true.”
“It is true,” she insisted.
“Even if your delusional little mind believes it, that is no reason to be spreading that nonsense all over town.”
“I told one person,” she countered defensively. Ryan’s strong, calm demeanor compelled her to open up to him about things she had never told anyone else before.
“You told a police detective, in the middle of a murder investigation. You may as well have shouted it from the rooftops,” her father snapped.
“I’m sorry, father, but I thought it might be relevant,” Sofia didn’t feel like having to defend her decisions right now. Three members of her family, plus Brooke, were dead, she couldn't understand why finding out who did it was not her family’s priority right now. “Three nights, three murders,” she reminded them. “Which one of us is going to be next?”
They all remained silent, each falling into their own thoughts.
“Who hates us enough that they want to kill us all?” Sofia asked softly.
“I don’t know,” Lincoln replied just as softly.
“What if it’s one of us?” she whispered, expecting the full force of her father’s rage to come barreling down upon her.
“No one in this room is a killer, Sofia,” the judge spoke quietly.
“Really?” It came out almost a whimper. When she was a little girl and had been scared of monsters hiding under her bed, her father’s stern, authoritative voice had been enough to drive those monsters away. She wished desperately that he could still have that kind of power over this nightmare.
“Really. Now why didn’t you tell me about Brooke’s book?”
She shrugged. At the time she hadn't thought much of it, just assumed Brooke was mad that both Logans had dumped her. It was only now that someone had murdered her that it seemed relevant.
“You should have told me immediately,” her father reprimanded. “So I could have taken care of it.” Logan Senior’s stare took them all in, “The detectives will be arriving shortly to speak with us, and I do not want anyone other than myself answering questions. It is imperative that we stick together, that we show them we are a united front, that there are no weak links.” He shot a pointed glance her way.
Sofia didn’t want to cause problems, but she knew that she couldn’t—wouldn’t—keep her mouth shut. She trusted Ryan. When she had broken down at the police station the day before and thrown herself into his arms, he had held her gently, he had been warm and solid and strong and real; he was safe. “I’m sorry, father,” she defiantly met the judge’s eye. “I can’t pr
omise you that I’ll keep my mouth shut. You only want to tell the police what you want them to know; I want them to know anything that might help them find and stop this killer before another one of us has to die.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way, Sofia,” her father gave a slight nod of his head, and before she knew what was happening, Lincoln had grabbed hold of her, pinning her against his chest.
“What are you doing?” shock battled terror inside her.
“You need to learn who’s in charge here,” her father’s eyes were cold.
“What are you doing?” she repeated, trying to wiggle free from her brother’s grip. It was useless, of course. Her brother was bigger and stronger than her, and her illness left her weak, but it didn’t stop her from trying. She caught sight of the syringe in her father’s hand as he came toward her. “You're drugging me?”
“I won’t allow you to speak badly about this family to the police. I gave you the opportunity to agree to my terms. Your refusal left me no choice.”
Sofia stared at him incredulously, “You're really going to drug me?”
Preparing the syringe, her father simply stared her straight in the eye and arched an eyebrow.
“You can’t drug me against my will,” she protested weakly, wishing Ryan and his partner would hurry up and arrive and get her out of here. “The police will be here any minute, they’ll arrest you.”
Shaking his head sadly, “My poor, ill daughter became hysterical after the events of the past several days and had to be sedated for her own safety.”
“Ryan will never believe that.” Sofia hoped he wouldn’t anyway, but he knew she was sick, and he knew that she was understandably horrified by the murders and may just buy her father’s story. “Please, father, don’t,” she implored. She’d lost enough control over her life lately, and the thought of being drugged against her will—by her own family—was too much.
“It’s for your own good, Sofia.” He came at her with the syringe.