Private Affair

by Rebecca York

  “What are you doing, Troy?” she asked.

  “What do you think?”

  “You’re going to kill me, like you killed Claire.”

  “No. Do you think I wanted to kill you at the farm?”

  She answered with a small nod.

  “You’re wrong. I was using her to get to you. I was going to take you away then.”

  “But you shot at me,” she blurted.

  “Because you had a gun. You were shooting at me.”

  “I was defending myself.”

  He made a dismissive sound. “You don’t have a gun now. And now we can spend some quality time together. Like we did ten years ago.”

  The words or the tone of his voice made her heart start to clunk inside her chest, but she wasn’t going to ask what he had planned. She remembered him hustling her out of the hospital, and she remembered dropping her credit card. Had Jack found it? And even if he hadn’t, the men would have to know she was missing by now. But would Max think to look for her here? She prayed that he would. Otherwise she was on her own.

  Then another thought intruded and made her go cold. Max would come looking for her, all right, but he was in the hospital—in no shape to confront anyone—especially a crazed killer with a gun.

  Troy Masters.

  He’d already talked to her a little. Would he answer questions? Or was questioning him dangerous? He’d already killed a lot of people. There was no reason to keep her alive unless he wanted to. And for how long?

  ***

  Jack had looked up the location of Larson’s house. For a suburban property, it was on a fairly large, wooded plot of land. He made the turn into the driveway and stopped well away from the house. Drawing his gun, he started for the building, staying in the trees.

  When he reached the side of the driveway, he hurried across and looked in one of the garage windows. There were two cars inside. One was a late model Lexus that looked like the owner kept it washed and polished. The other was a cheap Chevy. But outside the garage was something even more interesting—an unmarked cop car. So the police were here? Which meant that he’d better put away his gun if he didn’t want to get shot.

  He holstered the weapon and moved toward the house, wondering what to do next. Again, because he didn’t want to get shot, he rang the doorbell and waited. When nobody answered, he tried the knob and found it was locked.

  The setup gave him a bad feeling. It was too quiet here, like nobody was home. But he knew that couldn’t be true. Using his shirttail, he wiped off the knob, then started around the house, looking in the windows.

  When he got to the rear of the property, he stopped. A sliding glass door was half open. But this was an expensive house, and the owner was unlikely to just leave the place unlocked.

  Was this some sort of trap? Were the cops lying in wait for someone to show up?

  If he were with the PD, he’d call for backup. But he didn’t have that option. He was the only guy here, and he knew that every moment he delayed was a moment when something very bad could happen to Olivia Winters.

  Again he kept his gun in its holster as he pushed the door open farther with his shoulder and stepped inside. He walked cautiously into the kitchen, hearing nothing, but he was pretty sure from the odor coming from the front of the house that he wasn’t going to like what he found.

  He made his way from the kitchen into a short hall, toward the living room, he assumed. Ten yards from the entry door, he stopped short and quietly drew his gun when he saw two men lying on the floor, each in a pool of blood that spread across the expensive travertine marble, soaking into the natural depressions.

  Having seen Tommy Larson’s picture, he knew one of them was him. The other was Archie Hamilton. Son of a bitch.

  What the hell had happened here? From the looks of the victims, this could be a murder-suicide, but he didn’t think so. More likely a double murder. And the killer must be the other suspect—Troy Masters. Had he come over to eliminate Larson and found the detective here? Or had Hamilton’s presence on the scene triggered the murders? There was no way to know.

  Jack didn’t go over and check for a pulse in either man. It was clear from the amount of blood and the condition of the bodies that both of them had been dead for several hours, presumably before Masters had showed up at the hospital to snatch Olivia.

  He backed away, retraced his steps, and exited through the sliding glass door. Glad of the wooded lot, he hurried down the driveway and climbed into his car. After driving a couple of blocks away, he reached into the glove compartment and pulled out the burner phone he kept in case he needed to make a call without using his own number. His first call was to the Howard County 911 operator.

  “There’s been a double homicide at 223 Stanhope Way,” he said in an artificially low voice when the operator asked him the nature of his emergency.

  “Who is calling?”

  “A concerned citizen,” he answered, then hung up before they got a fix on him.

  ***

  Max leaned back against the car seat and closed his eyes, conserving his energy.

  When a phone rang, he jerked awake, blinking as he realized he’d been asleep.

  Jesus! He couldn’t even stay awake for more than an hour, and he thought he was going to rescue Olivia?

  “Is it Jack?” he asked.

  “Not his regular number. But he could be using the burner he keeps in the car.” Clicking the phone connection on the steering column, Shane said, “Hello,” then switched to the speaker.

  “Jack?”

  “Well, it’s not the guy you sent me to check out,” their partner said in a hard voice.

  The roundabout way he gave the information alerted Max that something significant had happened.

  “Because?” Shane asked.

  “I’ll have to tell you when I see you. I’m heading toward the cabin.”

  “Go to the other house,” Max instructed.

  Jack hesitated. “I’ll do it. But I don’t think he’s gonna be home.”

  Max wanted to shout—just spit it out, but he knew Jack wasn’t being evasive because he wanted to play stupid games. Something had happened. Something he thought better than to spell out in a phone conversation.

  “If you end up meeting us at the cabin, Olivia said the kids parked down the road in the woods and walked back.”

  “Okay.” They heard Jack hesitate again. “Someone was with the guy you sent me to meet,” he said. “Someone we didn’t expect.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Max demanded.

  “Sorry, it’s got to wait until I see you,” Jack answered and clicked off.

  Max and Shane exchanged glances.

  “Sounds like something bad happened at Larson’s house,” Max said.

  “Yeah. Like maybe he’s dead. And somebody else is there—dead. But who?”

  “Another member of the class?” Max speculated, suddenly unsure of what had seemed so clear a few hours ago.

  “It can’t be both Larson and Masters. Or if it is, we’re all screwed up. Shit!”

  Shane put a calming hand on his arm. “I think we have to assume from Jack’s call that Larson is dead. And if he is, then the murderer is Masters—from what you’ve been saying.”

  Max struggled to bring his roiling emotions under control. “Yeah. They went down to Baltimore together to score some pussy. And one of the women they picked up was killed during violent sex play. We talked to the woman who got away. That’s what Olivia and I were doing right before you called and said Davidson was on the loose.”

  “Sounds like it’s the best we’ve got,” Shane agreed.

  “But what if we’re wrong?” Max asked, arguing against his own conclusions because he knew that if he made a mistake, he was risking Olivia’s life.

  “Maybe we should call the cops,” Shane said.

  The statement firmed Max’s resolve. “Unfortunately, given the way things have played out, that’s more dangerous for Olivia. The more p
eople involved, the more chance she gets killed in a ham-handed rescue attempt. We’re only calling the boys in blue if she’s not at the cabin.”

  He glanced at Shane, then opened the glove compartment and took out the medical kit they always carried. Pawing through the contents, he found what he was looking for and opened a small bottle.

  “You think taking an amphetamine is a good idea in your condition?”

  “That’s what they’re here for,” Max said. “For when we need them.”

  Reaching in the backseat, he grabbed a bottle of water, unscrewed the top, and took the pill.

  Chapter 27

  Olivia pressed her back against the wall, thankful that the chain gave her some room.

  Raising her head, she looked at Troy. She’d seen him at the reunion meeting, and he had looked pretty normal. Apparently he had the ability to seem nonthreatening. Now she saw from his eyes that he was losing it. Silently she cursed herself for not seeing that before, but there had been a lot of people at the meeting, and she’d had to pay attention to all of them.

  “You’re studying me,” he said.

  “No.”

  “Don’t lie to me.”

  She should talk to him, but should she mention the murders? Maybe that was a bad idea, under the circumstances. But then, she’d already talked about Claire.

  He was the one who brought up the subject.

  “You should have stayed in New York. But you came down here because Angela was murdered, didn’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “She was your best friend.”

  “Yes.”

  “But she wasn’t all that good a friend,” he said with an edge in his voice, and she knew he was waiting for her to ask what he meant.

  “Why?” she managed to ask.

  “You thought the two of you were raped up here.”

  “Yes.”

  “But, see, it was only you. She wanted to fuck me. Then she helped hold you down.”

  Olivia gasped. “No.”

  “She was very cooperative. And I’ll bet the two of you comforted each other afterward. And assured each other that it was better not to tell anyone.”

  “Yes,” Olivia breathed. He was making her see the past in terms she didn’t want to admit. But was he telling her the real truth? What if Angela had agreed to make love with Troy because she’d had no alternative? And had she really helped hold Olivia down? There was no way of knowing for sure. And even if Troy thought he was telling the truth, he might not be remembering it the way it had happened.

  He began speaking again, and she focused on every word.

  “Back then I made sure she was going to keep you quiet. But when I saw that notice about the reunion, I was afraid she was going to fess up to you if you came down for the big weekend. So I had to get rid of her.”

  Olivia had gone cold all over.

  “I never let anyone stand in my way,” he said. “Like Patrick. He was blackmailing me, you know. And I kind of let him do it because I liked him.” Troy laughed. “But it got to be too much, and I finally said—fuck this.”

  She pressed her back more firmly against the wall, her mind racing as she tried to think how she was going to get out of this. Troy had killed a lot of people, and she was going to be next, if she didn’t figure out how to stop him.

  “Of course, there were all the people at the party that night. You know, the one at Brian’s. He’s on my list too. Now. What happens, I think, is that people make a pact to keep quiet. Then after years pass, they think it’s okay to talk. Like the ones who were still there when we went down to Baltimore. Claire. And Craig Pendergast. And of course, it’s the same with the people who came up here. Everybody kept quiet about the rapes. But I’ll bet you and Angela were going to talk about it. Victim to victim.”

  He’d said Angela wasn’t really raped. Which was it? She thought it was better not to ask.

  Instead, she said, “You’ve figured everything out.”

  “Don’t try to patronize me.”

  “Why didn’t you go after Brian?” she heard herself ask.

  “Because I thought he was too much of a pussy to cause me any trouble. Now I think I was wrong, with his talking to you and Lyon and all. He’s next on my list. Of course, Tommy was more of an immediate problem, but I took care of him already.”

  ***

  As Shane’s SUV reached a wooded area along Wilkins Dam Road, Max said, “Slow down.” He pointed up the hill into the forest. “The cabin’s up the hill. You can’t see it from here.”

  They passed the chained driveway and the parking spot where he and Olivia had been when the truck driver had interrupted their frantic grappling. Then he’d still thought she was hiding something from him. Now he knew what it was, and pain and guilt ripped through him like whirling knife blades when he thought about leaving her alone at the farm.

  “She said they parked in the woods,” he related, “but maybe it’s better to pull up on the other side of the highway.”

  Shane kept going, saw a gravel road on the other side that led into the trees and waited for a car to pass before turning. Shane pulled up far enough so that they couldn’t be seen from the road.

  Max got out, relieved that he was a lot steadier on his feet than he had been at the hospital. He was in for a major crash later. But he’d worry about that when he had the time.

  As they hurried up the hill, Max filled his friend in.

  “When Olivia and I were here, a security guard was waiting for us when we came out of the cabin.”

  “Nice. I guess one of us can hold him at gunpoint.”

  “Yeah. Hopefully, we won’t meet up with any guards.” Max dragged in a breath and let it out. “The cabin’s probably an old maintenance facility. Olivia and I got inside by pulling up some loose siding in the back. Inside there’s a trapdoor that leads to a tunnel and an underground room. I’m thinking he’d be down there with her because it’s a good defensive position.”

  “And you’re going to get in there how?” Shane asked.

  “I’m going to have to rush him.”

  “Hard to do if you’re in a tunnel on your hands and knees.”

  Max made a sound that was part agreement and part anger. “You have a better suggestion?”

  “Flush him out.”

  ***

  Troy’s words and his tone made Olivia realize how dangerous this game was. But did she have a choice? Was there any other way to get out of this underground room alive?

  And what was he thinking? He’d been on a killing rampage that had started small and built over the years. He’d just as good as told her he’d killed Tommy Larson. Did he think he was going to get away with that? Maybe it made sense to him—but they’d already talked to that detective, Archie Hamilton, about the two of them going down to Baltimore. Maybe Hamilton would figure it out.

  But that wasn’t going to help her now. She had to make a decision, and quickly.

  “You know I’ve been looking for a long time for a strong man who could protect me.”

  “Are you trying to say I’m it?”

  She kept her gaze on him, trying not to look calculating. On the face of it, there was no logic to her wanting to hook up with him. But she thought he was egotistical enough to eat up her praise of him.

  “You know you are. Look at how you’ve managed your life all these years—making sure you were always on top. I want to be there with you.”

  He laughed, and she didn’t know if he was agreeing with her or laughing at her attempt to convince him that she was on his side.

  “You’re on top of your profession,” he said.

  “Yes, I make a lot of money. With your talent, we’d make a great team. The guy who manages me is an idiot. I’m sure you can do better.”

  “I’ll bet I could. But I don’t want to move to New York. I like it here.”

  “I could come back and forth.”

  “Yeah.” He tipped his head to the side. “You’re being very cooperative.�
�

  She raised one shoulder. “You drugged me last time I was here,” she said. “That’s why I didn’t know what had happened. But really you don’t have to do that. I’ve wanted to make love to you for a long time.”

  “Then why didn’t you let me take you and Angela home after the party?” he shot back.

  “You know why. Because I was afraid of my father. He was really strict with me. If he found out where I’d been, he would have gone ballistic.”

  “That does make sense,” he agreed.

  “But he’s dead, so he has no control over me now. Why don’t you make love with me, and we can both find out what we missed all those years ago. I mean, was it really fun fucking a woman who was half unconscious?”

  “It had its points,” he murmured.

  “Well, I’m an experienced woman, now, and I think you’ll like me better awake,” she answered, forcing herself to keep up the seductive conversation because it was the only way she could see to save her life. And maybe it wasn’t even going to work.

  She saw he was on the edge of a decision, and whispered, “Please.”

  Long seconds stretched before he said, “I’m not going to unchain you, if that’s what this is all about.”

  She raised one shoulder in a compliant gesture. “I’m not asking you to do that. But, of course, you’ll have to free my ankles so I can open my legs.”

  Her own plans amazed her. It was almost like someone else were sitting here facing Troy Masters, and she was somewhere else, watching the performance. But then her acting ability was what had gotten her choice jobs in commercials that other models had failed to win.

  Putting on the performance of her life, she brought her hands to the front of her blouse and began to open the buttons one by one, working awkwardly because of the binding and because she kept her gaze fixed on Troy. And maybe slower was better, because she was definitely holding his attention as she revealed more and more skin.

  ***

  “And how do we flush the bastard out?” Max asked.

  “What if he thinks there’s an earthquake in the area, and he’s gonna get buried?”

  “We can arrange an earthquake?”

  “Not a real one. But we have some C4 in the trunk.”