by Paula Graves
“I’m supposed to just go along with what you ask? Make it easier for you to kill me and cover it up?” Lifting her chin with raw determination, Sara shook her head, trying not to think of everything she’d be leaving behind. There’d been a time, not so long ago, when the thought of following Donnie into the next world wouldn’t have seemed like such a bad outcome.
But that’s not the way she felt now. She had her parents. Friends like Kelly and Josh. Good old Brad Ellis and even Joyce and Gary Lindsey, who could finally have a little closure in the deaths of both their children, if she managed to get out of here alive to tell them what happened.
And there was Cain. Tough-shelled, softhearted Cain, who made her feel all the prickly, painful, wonderful sensations that came with rediscovering her life. She wanted to see if there was really such a thing as a second chance at happily ever after. She wanted to prove to Cain that he was worthy of finding his own happy ending, too.
She wanted it almost more than she wanted her next breath.
But she couldn’t have any of those things if she was bleeding to death on the floor of Becky Allen’s basement. She had to find a way to turn the tables and get the upper hand.
But hell if she knew how to get past a loaded .38.
* * *
THE ALLENS LIVED on a cul-de-sac surrounded by dense woods and butting up to Warrior Creek. The proximity to Crybaby Falls didn’t escape Cain as he parked behind Sara’s truck on the street.
There was a compact green Honda sedan parked in the driveway. Cain walked up the drive and touched his hand to the Honda’s hood. Still hot. She hadn’t beat him here by much.
He headed up the flagstone walkway to the neat little house with the perfectly manicured lawn and six neatly trimmed azalea bushes flanking the brick and concrete stoop.
The Allens cared about appearances. Enough to kill to maintain them?
He started to knock on the door but hesitated, considering his options. The door was likely to be locked, though he could get past that obstacle if necessary. But could he get inside without alerting Becky Allen that he was there?
His cell phone rang, sending an electric jolt down his spine. He silenced it quickly by answering. “Dennison.”
“It’s Carl Dunkirk. I’m headed your way.”
He wondered how Dunkirk got his cell-phone number, then realized the man used to be a cop. He had resources nearly as good as Cain’s. “Has something happened?”
“Brad Ellis finally got hold of Ariel Burke’s former boyfriend. Turns out the last time he saw Ariel was the morning before she was killed. And guess who she was talking to?”
“Jim Allen?”
“Becky Allen.” Dunkirk’s voice darkened. “I’m about ten minutes out. You’d better wait for me.”
A muted cracking sound came from somewhere inside the house, setting Cain’s nerves rattling. “No time,” he growled, slamming the phone shut and trying the doorknob.
To his surprise, it wasn’t locked.
* * *
THE SHOT CAME without warning, slamming into the wooden shelf behind Sara’s head, sending splinters of wood flying into her hair and face. One sharp sliver slashed her cheek, but she barely felt it, her whole body a knot of jangling nerves.
“Get the drop cloth,” Becky ordered. “Now.”
Hell, no, Sara thought, lifting her chin. She couldn’t see a way out of this basement alive, but she’d be damned if she made it easier for Becky to kill another woman and get away with it unscathed. “You might as well shoot me now and get it over with. I’m not going to cooperate with you.”
“No fear of death? Not even a little?” Becky took a couple of steps closer, cocking her head as if examining Sara the way she might look at a bug under a microscope. “Losing Donnie do that big a number on you? Maybe you’re looking forward to joining him up yonder, huh?”
“I don’t want to die,” Sara said with as much calm as she could muster. “But I told you, if I’m going to die today, I’m not going to do a damned thing to make it easier on you.”
“I can always go upstairs and get the kids. Let them come down here and get the drop cloth for me. I’ll tell them it’s a game we’re playing. All they have to do is get the drop cloth and go stand there in the middle of it, and they’ll do it without question. They trust me. I’m their mother.”
Bile rose in an unexpected rush up Sara’s throat as Becky’s meaning filtered through the rush of adrenaline still flooding her system. “My God, Becky. They’re your children.”
“They’re Jim’s children. And he’s the biggest mistake I’ve ever made.” Becky’s lips curled with disgust. “I remember, I was so happy when I found out I was pregnant with Jeff. I thought it would solve all those little problems we’d been having after Jim washed out of pro ball. Then I overhead that stupid little girl telling that Dennison boy about the baby. And I knew. I’d seen Jim with her, you see. And he’d tell me he was just listening to her troubles, that I was being paranoid, but I knew. I could smell her on him sometimes, you know. Basil and lemon. In his hair, on his shirt. On his skin.”
“That’s not Jeff’s fault. Not Gracie’s fault or Jonah’s—”
“They’re constant, sickening reminders of who I shackled myself to. I thought he was a good choice. He was going places.” Becky laughed again, the sound harsh with regret. “The only place he was going was right back here to Purgatory, where he could screw pretty little high-school girls and pretend he was still the hottest stud on campus.”
A faint noise, coming from somewhere upstairs, seeped past the sound of Becky’s voice, sending a dart of alarm skittering down Sara’s spine. Had one of the kids gotten curious and decided to come looking for their mother?
Please stay upstairs, babies, she thought with rising desperation, trying not to let her attention wander away from Becky’s face. Whatever happens, stay upstairs.
Becky’s finger slid to the trigger, giving Sara just enough time to duck when another bullet smacked into the shelf behind her.
“Get the drop cloth. Now. Or I’ll call the kids down here. I swear to you, I will.”
Sara stared back at her, trying to assess Becky’s intentions. Was she bluffing? Or was she really willing to kill her own children? Was this her way of tying up all the loose ends of her out-of-control life? First take out Jim, then her children? Freeing herself to go out and start a new life under a new name somewhere far, far away from here?
She wasn’t sure. But she couldn’t take the chance. If she cooperated, there was a chance Becky wouldn’t harm her children.
Sara turned and walked slowly toward the shelves at the back of the basement. “Where’s the drop cloth?”
“In that box with the blue lid.” Becky sounded impatient.
Sara opened the box and pulled out a neatly folded plastic sheet.
“Bring it out here to the middle of the floor and unfold it.”
Sara did as Becky asked, her heart pounding with growing terror. She didn’t want to die. The will to live coursed through her like electricity, lighting up her nerve endings and flowing into her veins like pure adrenaline.
But she was out of options.
A flash of movement behind Becky caught her eye. The door to the basement was opening. Had curious little Gracie decided to check up on her mother?
Sara looked desperately at Becky, trying to gauge her chances at overpowering her without getting herself or one of the children killed.
Not great.
Behind Becky, the door creaked. Becky’s attention snapped away from Sara for a split second, giving her the tiniest of openings.
She took it, throwing herself at Becky and tackling her to the floor just as Becky pulled the trigger.
* * *
A THIRD BARK of gunfire greeted Cain before he could get the basement door open, sending a jolt of pure terror rocketing through his body. He ducked on instinct but picked up speed, barreling down the stairs.
He hit the landing, stopping just long
enough to take in the sight of Sara wrestling with Becky Allen on the basement floor. Nearby, a plastic drop cloth covered the floor, the edges nearest the women rumpled from their struggle.
Cain moved forward quickly, stepping on Becky Allen’s gun hand. She cried out, a roar of pain and frustration.
With the threat of gunfire neutralized, Sara went into full-on cop mode, jerking the pistol from Becky’s trapped hand and sending it sliding across the floor well out of reach.
“Help me roll her over,” Sara said bluntly, looking up at Cain with a mixture of relief and some darker, richer emotion he couldn’t quite discern. He did as she ordered, using blunt force to hold the struggling, cursing woman down while Sara crossed to a nearby shelf and grabbed a roll of heavy-duty duct tape.
While he straddled Becky’s thighs to keep her immobile, Sara quickly secured Becky’s hands behind her back. She taped up her ankles as well, pulling her feet up to hog-tie her in place.
The sound of footsteps wandering around above drew Sara’s sharp glance toward the basement door. “Keep her here. I have to stop the kids from coming downstairs.”
Cain watched her hurry up the stairs, his chest filling with a heady blend of admiration and affection. Sara might consider herself tough as nails, and in a lot of ways she was, but she was softhearted enough to try to protect those poor kids a little longer from the harshness life was about to throw their way. She was an amazing woman, and he hoped like hell he could find a way to convince her to take a chance on a man like him.
He turned his attention to Becky, who was growling profanities at him as she struggled to free herself from his iron grasp. If he’d had any doubts that Becky Allen was directly involved with Renee Lindsey’s death, they were gone. He’d put together the clues—the gunshots, the drop cloth on the floor—and what little he’d made out of the muted conversation he’d heard coming through the basement door to get a pretty clear picture of what was going on.
Strangling Sara Lindsey to death wouldn’t have worked the way it had with Renee and Ariel. Becky hadn’t had the luxury of surprise, and Sara was as tall and strong as she was, unlike the two teenage girls she’d caught unaware. That’s why she’d gone with the pistol.
“You were going to kill her on the drop cloth. Minimize the mess. But why kill her at all?” he asked.
Becky’s answer was a profane indictment of his parentage.
“Hey, I’ve called my old man worse,” he said with a grim smile. “Just one more question. Did you shoot your husband, too?”
Becky fell silent beneath him.
He’d take that as a yes, he thought, his mouth curling into a grimace, his gaze rising to the open door at the top of the stairs. He could hear Sara’s soft voice filtering down from somewhere above, mingling with the querulous replies of the Allen children.
He closed his eyes, aching for those kids. Their lives would never be the same. He just prayed they had someone in their lives the way he’d had his grandmother. They were going to need it.
* * *
“JIM’S PARENTS ARE taking custody of the kids,” Sara’s father told her a couple of hours later when she emerged from her interview with Brad Ellis to find him pacing in the hallway outside. He wrapped her up in a fierce hug, dropping a kiss on the top of her head.
“Anything new on Jim’s condition?” she asked, curling her arms tightly around his waist and rubbing her cheek against his shirt, wrapping herself in the familiar, comforting smell of him. She might be over thirty now, but there was still nothing in the world quite like a father’s love to make the big, bad world seem a little less scary.
“They’re cautiously optimistic he’s going to make it. The jury’s still out on how much brain damage he might have sustained.” Carl released her from the hug but kept his arm draped over her shoulders. “You free to go?”
“Almost. Brad’s got to type up my statement and let me sign it.” She hoped Brad was a speed-typist. She was feeling pretty shaky now that the adrenaline flood that had kept her moving had finally started to ebb. “Have you seen Cain?”
“Not since I got here.”
Brad Ellis emerged from the interview room, clapping Carl on the shoulder and giving Sara’s arm a light pat. “I’ll get this statement typed up and back to you in no time.”
“Do you know if Cain Dennison is still being interviewed?” she asked as Brad turned to go.
“He was released about fifteen minutes ago. He didn’t have as much ground to cover as you did, I guess.” Brad headed toward his office down the hall from the interview room.
Sara frowned. She needed to talk to Cain, but she supposed it was silly to think he’d stick around the cop shop to wait for her. She knew his aversion to police stations.
And she’d made it pretty clear to him, earlier in the hospital, that she wasn’t ready to pursue the connection that had been growing between them.
How was he supposed to know that she’d changed her mind?
Her father nudged her toward a nearby bench. “I called your mother to let her know what was going on,” he warned her as they sat to wait for Brad. “She’s not very happy with either of us.”
Sara sighed, dropping her head against her father’s shoulder. “I guess this wouldn’t be a good time to tell her I’m planning to stick around Purgatory and apply for a job with the sheriff’s department.”
“I think she’s been expecting that ever since you got sucked into this murder investigation,” her father said, his voice threaded with pride. “I know I was. You’re a cop at heart. You always have been. I knew that the first time I caught you sneaking peeks at my case files.”
Brad Ellis returned a few minutes later with a pen and a printed statement. He drew an X where he wanted her to sign, though she knew the protocol as well as he did. She scratched her signature in the appropriate place and handed the pen back to him.
“You’ll be hanging around Purgatory a little longer, won’t you?” Brad asked, giving her a knowing look. “In case we have more questions?”
“Yeah, I’ll be around,” she said with a smile.
She and her father walked down the long corridor toward the front exit, where she’d parked her truck in visitor’s parking. To her surprise, Cain Dennison was waiting for her there, his long arms draped over the top of her tailgate. He nodded to her father, but his gaze locked with hers, blazing with intent. She felt an answering tug low in her belly.
“Thanks for coming, Dad,” she said, tearing her gaze away from Cain long enough to give her father a fierce hug. “I’ll drop by the house later so Mom can reassure herself I’m okay.”
Her father gave her cheek a quick stroke, nodded back to Cain and headed toward his own truck, leaving her alone with Cain.
“Let’s get out of here,” Cain said.
Epilogue
The roar of Crybaby Falls grew in strength as Sara and Cain wound through the overgrown trail toward the creek. He leaned a little closer. “You hungry? Maybe we can grab something to eat a little later.”
She darted a look at him, a smile curving her lips. “Together? In public?”
He smiled back, not mistaking the teasing tone in her voice. “I like to live dangerously.”
“Don’t take this wrong, but I’d much rather get takeout. I can’t think of anything I want to do more than put my feet up and not move until Monday.”
“Just ’til Monday?”
“I’m planning to apply for a job at the Ridge County Sheriff’s Department.” She stole a glance at him, as if wondering how he’d take the news. He’d been vocal enough about his troubled relationship with law enforcement, so he could hardly blame her for her apprehension.
His attitude toward the police had evolved over the past few weeks, he supposed. Especially if Sara was the one wearing a badge. “You’ll be an asset to the department.”
She shot him a grin, looking ridiculously, endearingly pleased.
Ahead, the trees began to thin out as they neared the top of the fa
lls. He took her hand and gave it a tug. “Let’s do this, Deputy.”
“Do what?” She quirked her eyebrows, looking intrigued. He just smiled and motioned with his head for her to come along with him, leading her across the bridge over Crybaby Falls.
They picked their way down the slightly treacherous incline that flanked the falls. He could tell by her look of curiosity that she’d never ventured to this part of the falls. Few people did—the path was steep and scary-looking, and only daredevils and fools ever took the chance.
He’d been one of those people, both daredevil and fool. Mostly, he’d been a kid who’d felt he had nothing to lose, and the challenge had seemed impossible to resist.
He’d learned, however, that the descent was less treacherous than it looked, and worth the slight risk once he’d discovered the treasure that lay at the end of the journey.
“Oh,” Sara murmured, her voice soft with surprise.
Ahead of them, the path curved toward the falls, where a set of natural stone steps led toward a hidden cavern behind the flow of water.
“Did someone make these?” she asked as they started down the steps.
“Either the Cherokees or God. Take your pick.” The steps ended where the floor of the cavern leveled off to a stone shelf sheltered by the roaring curtain of water that hid them from the world outside.
“I had no idea this place existed,” Sara breathed, her smile widening as she took in the full splendor of this inside view of the falls.
“Not many people do.” Cain led her to an outcropping along the back wall of the cavern that formed a makeshift bench. He settled her onto the outcropping and took a seat beside her. “My grandmother showed me this place, back when I was a kid. I think it was her way of teaching me that I couldn’t let fear and anger stop me from finding the beauty in this world. I think maybe more people knew about this place back then. But after Renee’s death...”
“Not many people come to the falls anymore.”
“Nobody but me. And teenagers looking for a thrill.” Smiling, he reached down and pulled her feet into his lap. Removing her shoes, he began rubbing her feet. A look of pleasure suffused her face, and he felt an answering response building low in his belly.