Greg tried to imagine that Cynthia was indeed with Mike right now. Could he forgive her? Could he make love to her again knowing that she had given herself to Mike, of all people. Greg knew he could never stop loving her but it would take a lot to even be able to look at her again knowing that she'd been with another man. His worries of losing Cynthia's love now seemed like a reality. It appeared that a divorce was imminent. Cynthia had said in her letter that she loved him and that would never change, but could she stay with him after she learnt of his betrayal?
Greg knew there was no way he could keep it from her now. Clearly Mike had told her something, just enough to make her suspicious and need time away from him. When Cynthia came home tomorrow he was going to tell her everything. If he lost her then so be it, but he couldn't live like this any more. It wasn't about protecting his own secrets any more now that Ashley was hurting people. Clearly she wasn't going to stop doing what she was doing. Cynthia needed to be aware of Ashley, if only for her own safety.
The thought brought tears to Greg's eyes but he was all cried out. His secrets were killing him and a part of him was eager to get it all off his chest tomorrow. Once Cynthia knew all about Ashley, Greg intended to contact the police and inform them he thought he knew who had sabotaged his brakes. He had no proof of course, but once the police knew Ashley's name, should she ever go after Cynthia the police would be able to intervene and protect her.
As Greg was watching the TV thinking about at day when every night would be spent alone without Cynthia, he became aware of a strange scratching noise. Frowning he lifted the remote control and hit the mute button on the TV.
There. He could hear it clearly now, a strange scuttling, scratching noise. If he didn't know any better he'd swear they had mice or something. Greg stood and walked out into the hallway. He stood still facing the doorway to the kitchen and quickly realised the noise was not coming from that direction. It was coming from his right, from the doorway that led to the garage. Greg faced it and frowned. That's all he needed, rats or mice living in the garage. Sighing loudly in frustration, he threw open the garage door and marched inside. He stood still in the gloom purposely leaving the light off so as not to disturb the rodent that was scuttling around. Immediately the noise stopped.
Greg strained his ears trying to hear even the smallest sound. A faint scuttling noise drew his attention to the far corner of the garage. As quietly as he could he tiptoed over, hoping to frighten the small beast enough that it fled and never came back. Just as he was about to reach the far corner, a figure suddenly stepped from behind a pile of stacked boxes. The alarm that Greg felt was instantaneous and paralysing. As he tried to take a step back the figure swung, its long blonde hair flying wildly around its head.
Greg heard and felt the sharp crack against the side of his head. He was aware of falling before slipping into unconsciousness.
*
Greg awoke in a dark narrow place that rocked to and fro. Confused and disoriented, he tried to remember what had happened and where he was. It was so dark that he opened and closed his eyes a few times, just to make sure they were indeed open. He grimaced as a wave of nausea washed over him, then cried out in pain. The pressure inside his brain made him feel as though his head may blow up. He raised his hand, intending to locate the source of the pain on his head, but he couldn't. He realised his hands were tied tightly together.
As were his legs.
The wave of nausea turned into a tsunami and Greg turned quickly on his side as the gush of vomit burst from his throat. He gasped as hot tears stung his eyes, the burning in his throat temporarily making him forget the pain in his head. He rolled back onto his back and closed his eyes, concentrating on his breathing and trying not to panic.
I'm tied up and trapped in a box. What the hell is going on? Oh God, I can't breathe.
Greg tried to remember the events that had led to him being hurt and tied up. He remembered being in his house and watching TV, but he couldn't remember anything else. Who was doing this? Why were they doing this? It was then Greg became aware of the constant droning sound. He knew what that was―it was the sound of a car engine.
I'm the trunk of a car.
With this realisation the true horror of his situation hit Greg like a ton of bricks. He'd been knocked out, tied up, and thrown in the trunk of car. The person who had done this to him was now driving him to God knows where and for God knows what purpose. His pain and fear was crippling, the smell of his vomit was eye-watering. No sooner had he began to torment himself with horrific thoughts of what his kidnapper intended to do with him, the car came to a sudden stop.
Greg became rigid with fear as he listened to his kidnapper exit the car and walk around to the trunk. He began to pray in his mind and his thoughts turned to Cynthia. Not only would she suffer the pain of his betrayal, but she was also about to become a widow. He had no hope that he would survive this. Whoever had brought him here had deadly intentions, of that he was sure. The terrible dark feeling that had accompanied him on a daily basis had led to this. He only hoped that in spite of everything, Cynthia would know that he'd died loving her and only her.
His kidnapper inserted a key into the trunk's lock and quickly swung the lid open. Greg blinked up at his kidnapper as her identity was revealed. His horror turned to rage and disbelief. Ashley stared down at him, all but her eyes covered by a black scarf that was wrapped around her face. Her blonde hair flew wildly around her head tossed this way and that by the strong wind.
“Ashley! What the hell do you think you're doing? Are you cr―“
His words were cut off instantly as Ashley removed the scarf from her face. Greg gaped at her in disbelief.
“Hey hubby,” Cynthia said smiling.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Cynthia? I don't understand.”
Cynthia glared at him, her face contorted with such rage and hate that Greg felt his blood run cold. “No, you don't understand, You never understood. I tried to do it the right way, to settle down and find myself husband. And in the end I was still betrayed. For years I've searched for the perfect man. I'm beginning to believe that such a thing does not exist.”
Greg felt as though he'd been sucked into a deep black hole. Had the whole world gone crazy? Was he unconscious right now and dreaming this? It couldn't be Cynthia who'd knocked him unconscious, trussed him up like a turkey and thrown into the boot of his car whilst wearing a blonde wig.
“You look confused,” Cynthia said. “Would you like me to explain a few things?”
“What's going on, Cynthia?” Greg whispered.
“You betrayed me with another woman, that's what's going on. I never would have believed you would ever do anything like that, I trusted you! How dare you? I changed for you, I turned myself into the perfect wife with the perfect house and perfect job. You aren't the first man I've loved that's betrayed me. No matter what I did for them they always threw me aside like I was nothing.” Cynthia's expression became murderous. “The man before you owned his own restaurant. I was so in love with him, and he said he loved me too. He said he didn't love his wife and was going to leave her. Then, I turn up at his work one day to surprise him and find him flirting away with one of his waitresses. Next thing I know, he wants to talk.”
Cynthia met Greg's horrified stare and smiled coldly.
“I poisoned and stabbed that bastard to death. To my knowledge his body still hasn't been found.” Cynthia's expression turned murderous once again. “You're just like him, except you're worse. He never made me any promises, you promised to spend the rest of your life with me, and only me. You married me then betrayed me for the first little slut who threw herself at you. You're just like all the others, and you're going to die like all the others.”
All the others? Just how many men had she killed?
“No-one has to die, Cynthia. We can talk about this. Let me explain.”
“There's nothing to explain. The first time a hot girl gives you the eye you bet
ray me instantly. Did you really think I didn't know? I've known since before the Christmas party that something was going on, I just didn't know who you'd slept with. Then this Ashley bitch follows you to the bathroom at the Christmas party. I knew then that she was the one. I had you fooled Greg, just like you thought you had me fooled. You truly believed that Ashley was the one leaving all the roses.”
Greg didn't think he had room for more surprises, but that almost took his breath away. “You're the one who was leaving all the roses? You're the one who destroyed my brakes?” Greg was aghast. “You even poisoned Jesse.”
“All your fault. You didn't leave me with a choice. Anyway, I only gave Jesse a tiny bit of poison, just enough to make her sick. I had to make sure the police got involved. When they find your dead body they'll believe that Ashley is the one who killed you.”
“Cynthia, please.” Greg began to cry. “Please don't do this.”
“Were you crying when you were sleeping with another woman? Were you crying when you were sharing a bed with me every night knowing what you'd done? Were you crying when you were desperately trying to keep Mike away from me so he wouldn't tell me the truth?”
That's right, Mike does know. Greg felt a glimmer of hope. All this time he'd been convinced that Ashley was the crazy one, but Cynthia was crazy. How could he have married this woman and lived with her, never knowing who she really was. How could he be so blind? All he knew was that she intended to kill him and he was powerless to stop her.
“What are you thinking, Greg? Are you thinking that Mike will be my downfall? That because Mike knew about your affair that somehow his statement will help the police piece all this together?” In spite of his terror and disbelief, Cynthia's referral to Mike in the past tense wasn't lost on Greg. Cynthia smiled as she saw the terrible truth dawn on Greg's face. “That's right, Mike doesn't know anything, not any more. Mike's lying dead on his kitchen floor right now.”
Greg gasped. “You killed Mike?”
“No. Ashley did. At least that's what the police will believe. Mike signed his own death warrant when he came to see me this afternoon. I thought he suspected something when he turned up the other night. It's because of him that I've had to bring all this to a conclusion now. I wanted to play this out for longer, but with Mike in on it I knew I wouldn't have much time before he told someone about your affair. I've always known that Mike wanted me. I knew it the night I met you both. I chose you because you seemed the safest, though he was far better looking than you. He was the type I'd always fallen for before, the type I'd always gotten hurt by before.” Cynthia's eyes took on a faraway gaze. “I created Cynthia for you; the perfect wife with the perfect house. It was the life I'd always dreamed of. I like Cynthia, I don't want to lose her, too. I don't want to have to move and change my name again. I'm going to set Ashley up for yours and Mike's murders. Meanwhile, I'll play my part of the grieving widow. It's flawless.”
“You won't be able to pin anything on Ashley. The police will figure it out. They'll find evidence that will lead them right back to you.”
Cynthia smiled, the darkest smile Greg had ever seen. “Not when they find Ashley's diaries. Remember the storage locker that I had a few years ago? Well unbeknown to you I still own that locker. That's where I've been keeping Ashley all this time. She's been keeping a diary and the police will find that diary. You wouldn't believe how many of her toes I had to cut off to force her to write that diary. She talks all about your affair, about your rejection, and about her revenge. Everything the police will need to tie her to yours and Mike's murder is in that diary. I believe the police will see the case as a slam-dunk. They'll never find Ashley; her body is in pieces all over the place. They will, however, find you. They'll also find strands of Ashley's hair and her fingerprints tying her to your murder.”
Greg cried openly, sobbing loudly. How had his life come to this? Murdered by his own wife who'd also murdered his lover. This just couldn't be real and he hoped with every fibre of his being that this was some crazy nightmare. He knew he wasn't dreaming when Cynthia leaned into the trunk and bid him farewell before slamming the trunk lid down. Greg screamed until he was hoarse as the car began to roll downhill. When the freezing cold water began to fill the trunk, he knew this was it. There was no chance he could ever be saved. As the water began to fill Greg's lungs, an image of Cynthia filled his mind.
His wife. His best friend. His killer.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Greg Allen's remains were found in the trunk of his car when it was fished out of the water at the old rock quarry. Police had been searching for him since his wife had reported him missing the day before. Evidence found in his car pointed to a young woman by the name of Ashley Lane, who it appeared Greg Allen had been having an affair with. A visit to Ashley Lane's apartment revealed evidence of the affair, evidence of Greg's murder, and evidence pointing to another unsolved homicide relating to a man called Mike Richardson. A search for Ashley Lane and her vehicle is underway.
*
The two homicide detectives left and Cynthia laid down on the sofa. Jesse walked over to her and began to lick her face. Cynthia wrapped her arms around the dog and held her close. Every part of her plan had come together. The police had found Greg's body this morning with all the evidence pointing to Ashley. They had left after telling Cynthia they were now actively looking for Ashley in relation to Greg's and Mike's murders.
“Good luck,” Cynthia said out loud. Holding Jesse tightly, she began to laugh.
THE END
A Deadly Affair—The Femme Fatale Series Page 13