by Anne Stuart
She wasn’t going to throw up. “Who—Melinda?
Then it wasn’t a dead deer?”
“Don’t be naïve. I kept Melinda in the trunk for weeks. I thought I’d been careful—she was wrapped in layers of plastic and I sprinkled half a dozen boxes of baking soda back there to absorb the odor, along with some of those sprays. I have to tell you that those air fresheners are useless.”
“You should write the company a letter of complaint.”
“You’re making fun of me—but you know, I just might do that,” he said, moving toward her.
She could dive for the knife, but he’d shoot her first and then there’d be no one to help Sophie.
“That’s right, my love,” he said. “I really don’t want to shoot you. It’s just a matter of personal taste. I could certainly get away with it—it’s Caleb’s gun, after all. He’s going to be blamed for everything, and if you have a bullet in your skull it won’t make any difference. But I told you, I don’t like blood, and I don’t like loud noises.
You’re a very noisy person, did you know that, Rachel? Clomping around in those boots—I thought I’d gotten rid of them. Even in bare feet you always moved around the house like a storm trooper. You rattle dishes, you sing, you close doors too noisily, you drive too fast.”
“Is that why you’re going to kill me?”
Sophie had moved behind him, just the slightest stirring, and Rachel silently prayed. Get up, baby. Get away from here, fast.
“Of course not,” he said, affronted. “I could have trained you properly. Things just got out of control. You can thank my brother for that. We were doing just fine until he came home. We could have had three good years together, waiting for Sophie to mature and take your place, if he hadn’t barged in. Fortunately I’m a brilliant man, and I was prepared for any eventuality, and Caleb’s always had a bad habit of interfering with my particular pleasures. I must have known subconsciously that he’d come back when I met with Jessica. I’d planned to take her out of state but I changed my mind at the last minute. I’m intuitive, you know. I must have sensed his presence.”
Rachel just stared at him, sick inside. How could she have gotten her daughter into this? “But why, David?” she said, her voice desperate. “Why did you kill that girl?”
He looked at her with a pitying expression. “Because I had to. And I got away with it, time after time. I happen to be brilliant. My IQ is sixteen points higher than Ted Bundy’s.”
“You checked?”
“Of course I checked! He’s the gold standard against which everyone is measured, but I can assure you, I’m far brighter than he ever was.”
“I’m sure you are,” she said, trying to keep her voice from shaking. “Smart enough to know that this has gone too far. You’re going to get caught.”
“Don’t be absurd. I’ve been setting Caleb up for years. My father will give me an alibi—he can’t bear the thought of his golden son going to jail.”
“But what about Caleb?”
“Oh, he’ll already be dead. He chained you up, strangled and raped Sophie and threw her over the falls, and then set fire to his house in a fit of remorse. I’ve set it up perfectly. His ropes will burn off in the fire,” he said, pulling out a pair of handcuffs, “but these will still be wrapped around your scorched corpse. You’re such a horse, my dear. I had a hard time finding handcuffs that would fit you.”
“Can’t they trace them to you?”
He shook his head. “I told you, I’m much too careful. You may as well stop arguing. I’ve thought of everything. Please move back against the wall, next to that pipe.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Don’t be tiresome. I’ll put a bullet in your mouth and drag your body over there. The fire I’ve set will burn so hotly that no one will be able to tell that you were shot before you were burned.”
She scooted back against the wall. Sophie was moving a little bit more—if she could just keep David talking it might give her enough time to come to.
He took her arm and slapped the heavy manacle round her wrist, then closed the other one around the exposed pipe. “She’s not going to wake up in time, Rachel. She may get a little more active, but not enough to actually get away. Consider it a blessing. She’ll never know what happened to her.”
“Won’t that ruin all your fun?” she said in a furious tone.
“Of course not. I’m a very considerate man. I make it quick. And I make love to them afterward, so they don’t have to deal with the shame beforehand.”
“You’re not going to touch my daughter.”
“Of course I am. No one can stop me. When I’m done I’ll throw her body over the falls and take the back way down to my father’s house, where we’ll have a nice dinner and a good bottle of pinot grigio, and when Maggie Bannister comes to tell us what happened we’ll both be distraught. It’s a shame you won’t have a chance to see it—I’m really very good.”
“I know you are, David. You fooled me completely.”
“Ah, but you aren’t much of a challenge,” he said with a condescending smile. He rose, stepping away from her. “I could make this painless for you. I’d be willing to shoot you, despite my dislike of blood, so you won’t have to deal with the pain of burning to death. After all, you did love me, and I can be generous.”
“I didn’t love you, David,” she said, her voice flat. “I married you to provide what I thought was a safe life for Sophie. You’re absolutely right, I was an idiot, but you were simply a means to an end.”
She’d gotten to him. His face crumpled for a moment, and he looked like a little boy whose dog had died. Then he shook his head. “You’re just saying that.”
“I jumped at the chance of separate bedrooms, David. I slept with your brother the first chance I got.” She glanced over at Sophie to make certain she was still unconscious. “I sucked his cock, David. He’s much bigger than you, and he doesn’t get limp. I fucked him and I liked it.”
“Stop it!” His voice rose in distress. “You know I don’t like that language.”
“I was a whore, David. I did everything with Caleb that I wouldn’t do with you.”
“I didn’t want you to do those things…”
“Yes, you did. Deep inside, you wanted me to do all those things with you, but you were afraid, because you knew you couldn’t get it up, not often enough to even begin to please me. You can only get it up with dead girls, isn’t that it?”
He hit her then, slamming the gun across her face so hard that for a moment everything turned black. When the world came back into focus again he’d managed to regain his calm.
“You’re an ugly, dirty girl,” he said. “And if I had time I’d show you how wrong you are. But I can only count on the idiocy of the police to last so long, and I don’t want to risk all this hard work for nothing.”
“David.” Caleb’s voice was hoarse, muffled. She hadn’t even realized he was coming to.
David whirled around, momentarily startled. “My brother awakens. I was afraid I’d killed you.”
“Untie me, David. You know you don’t want to do this.” Caleb’s voice was rough, pleading.
“Of course I do. I was just explaining to your whore here how much I want to do this. I must say she hasn’t expressed much interest in you—she’s more concerned about her daughter.”
“Let them go, David. You know this is between you and me, and always has been.”
David giggled, and the sound made her skin crawl. “Don’t be naïve, Caleb. All you are is a scapegoat. I couldn’t care less who gets blamed—you’re just the easiest one to use. I’ll find someone else once you’re gone. Stephen Henry might be a good choice. He can walk, you know. He’s been hiding that fact for years, just to get attention.”
“And he’s been covering for you for years. Do you think he’ll keep covering for you if you try to frame him?”
“Yes,” David said simply.
“Then just let Sophie go. She’s too young
—you never wanted to hurt anyone that young.”
“She loves me,” David said airily. “I know that she does, she just hasn’t been brave enough to tell me. I owe this to her.”
“Owe her death?” Rachel demanded.
“Shut up!” David shrieked in a lightning change of mood. “It’s all your fault. I was going to wait until she grew up, I was going to start to train her, but you kept interfering, trying to turn her against me. If it weren’t for you none of this would have happened. You’re the one who’s responsible for your daughter’s death, not me.”
“And you’re batshit insane,” Rachel spat back.
But David had regained his calm. “I’m finished arguing with you both.” He walked back to Sophie’s limp body and hoisted her into his arms effortlessly. He was much stronger than he looked. “I promise you I’ll wait until after she’s dead. After all, she loves me.”
“She hates you. She thinks you’re a disgusting creep,” Rachel said, desperate.
“Don’t lie. She’s just shy.” He started up the stairs to the front door, Sophie in his arms, her long blond hair hanging down. “You know, I’m really looking forward to this. It’s been so long since I’ve enjoyed myself with a child.” And the door closed behind him.
Caleb immediately began to move, struggling against the ropes. “We have to—” the explosion silenced him. From a distance she could hear the crackle of fire, see the sinister swirls of smoke as the house started to burn. He looked over at her, a bleak expression on his face. “I don’t know how to get you loose.”
“There’s a knife over there. You can cut yourself free.” She nodded in the direction of the kitchen knife David had made her kick away. It was an unexpected mistake. Maybe there was a chance he’d make more.
Caleb inched his way to the spot, somehow managing to pick the knife up with his hands tied behind him. He was cursing beneath his breath, and fresh red blood was running down the side of his head, and all she could do was watch, and pray, until a moment later his hands were free, and he was sawing away at the ropes that bound his ankles together. And then he looked up at her.
She forestalled him. “The only thing that matters is Sophie,” she said. “Don’t even think about it.”
“I can’t leave you here. You won’t be able to get free.”
“You can’t stay. Get the hell out of here. If I’m supposed to die then I’m okay with it. As long as Sophie is all right.”
For a moment he didn’t move, looking down at her with a bleak expression.
“Get out of here!” she screamed at him, as she felt the heat coming at her from the back of the building.
He moved then, fast. He caught her chin in his hand and kissed her, hard and fast, and then he was gone.
Leaving her to die.
21
She spent precisely fifteen seconds panicking. And then she spun around and began kicking at the pipe, her heavy boots making little difference. She pulled at her wrist, trying to twist it, but her bones were too big and she couldn’t slip out of the cuff. She could feel the heat from the fire, the flames getting closer, and she kicked harder, hard enough to bend the pipe, not hard enough to break it, and she kicked again, screaming with rage and frustration, and again.
She heard his voice from a distance, and for a moment she thought she was imagining things. Stephen Henry, playing to the third balcony, his voice coming through the gathering smoke, calling for David.
She had no idea whether she could trust him or not, and she had even less time to think about it. “Stephen Henry!” she screamed. “Get me out of here!”
He emerged from the smoke, walking, no, running, straight toward her, and she half expected him to be bringing a merciful death. Instead he started yanking at the pipe that held her prisoner, and she felt it begin to give with their combined strength.
A moment later it pulled free from the framing, and she scrambled to her feet, pulling the ring of the cuffs off the end of it. “He’s got Sophie,” she said in a strangled voice. “He’s going to kill her. And you knew it.”
He shook his head, his face old and broken. “I didn’t. I didn’t want to. Where are they? Where’s Caleb?”
“He’s gone after them.”
“My poor wounded boy,” Stephen Henry began to intone, and Rachel shoved him aside, too panicked to slap him.
“Fuck your wounded boy. I’m going to save my daughter.”
They barely made it down the rickety front steps as the flames followed, eating the water-soaked wood as if it were dry kindling. It was late afternoon—what little sun there was had already begun to set, and the shadowy darkness was all around.
“He was heading up to the falls,” Rachel said. “I don’t know how to get there.”
“I do,” Stephen Henry said, charging ahead of her, leaving her to follow in his wake.
She had no choice but to run after him. For all she knew he was simply leading her to her death—he’d already lied for and protected his murderous son past all reasonable limits, and there was no guarantee that he was finally ready to stop. He’d just saved her life, but she’d be a fool to trust anyone. It didn’t matter. She’d only been on this trail once, following behind Caleb, and she couldn’t afford to waste even a moment.
“You move fast for a cripple,” she said sharply, catching up with him.
He didn’t even bother to glance at her. He was out of breath, moving fast, and she could barely keep up with him. All she could do was keep her head down and offer up a silent litany of prayer, of bargains, of mindless panic. Don’t let him hurt her. Don’t let him touch her. Let Caleb get there in time.
The sound of the water grew louder, drowning out even her labored breathing. She almost thought she could hear voices, and she tried to push past Stephen Henry, but he shoved her out of the way, bursting through the clearing ahead of her.
And then he was falling back, against her, before she even heard the shot, and she collapsed under his weight, trapped for a moment as she saw David dragging a now-struggling Sophie toward the falls. Rachel shoved the old man off her, hearing his grunt as he landed in the mud, and she struggled past him into the clearing, slipping in the mud as she scrambled toward them.
David had the gun in his hand, pressing it against Sophie once more, and Caleb was a few feet away, held at bay by the threat. “Don’t come any closer, Rachel,” David said, his eyes glinting.
“Please, David,” she sobbed. “Let her go. It’s gone too far—you can’t get away with it. You can kill all of us, but no one will believe you.”
She half expected to hear him laugh maniacally, but he simply looked at her, his tie perfect, his blond hair slightly mussed. “They’ll believe me.
They always do.”
“You can’t,” she cried. “I won’t let you.”
At that moment Sophie moved, reaching up, her fingernails raking across his face so hard the blood spurted, and for a second he let go of her, screaming in pain.
It was enough. Rachel charged at him, slamming her body into his, and he went over the edge, toward the churning waters.
At the last minute he reached out and caught her ankle, and she followed him, hurtling downward, knowing she was going to die, knowing that Sophie would live, when an iron hand grabbed her wrist, catching her. She looked up to see Caleb, holding on to her with his last bit of strength. She looked below to see David swinging beneath her, still clinging to her ankle.
“Let go of her, David!” he shouted.
Everything suddenly seemed to move very slowly. She looked up, could see Caleb’s free arm wrapped around a tree branch for support, support that wouldn’t last long with both their weights pulling against him. Beneath her David thrashed, his hand burning around her ankle and he flailed.
“You love me, Rachel,” he shouted at her over the roar of the water. “You always have. Let go and come with me.”
She stared down at him for a long, raging moment. “Fuck…you,” she screamed, and slammed her h
eavy booted foot into his face. Once, twice.
With the third kick his fingers let go, and he fell, silently, spinning with the gracefulness of a diver until he disappeared into the roaring falls.
Caleb pulled her up, hoisting her onto the muddy ground, and she pushed away from him, scrambling across the dirt, breathless, until she was able to reach Sophie and pull her into her arms, sobbing. In the distance she could hear the sirens, and the flames from the burning building climbed high into the rainy sky. She buried her face in Sophie’s hair and closed her eyes, letting go for the first time in days.
They were safe.
David was dead.
It was going to be all right.
22
Rachel parked her battered Volvo on the road, not in the driveway, and slowly walked up the path to the front door of the house she’d once shared with David. The apple tree in the yard had started to die, the deep ruts from her car still scarred the grass.
She hadn’t been back in the two weeks since David’s death. She couldn’t bear to. They’d kept them in the hospital for a couple of days—she had cuts and scrapes on her arms that she’d never noticed, from jumping through broken windows, and Sophie still had the effects of David’s drugs in her system.
They also wanted to do a psych evaluation. Of course Sophie passed with flying colors. She’d never had any illusions about David. She wasn’t the one who’d put her own child in danger because she was so blindly certain she was doing the right thing.
But in the end they were both released, and after ten days at the local hotel they were finally free to leave Silver Falls. Which Rachel had every intention of doing.
Stephen Henry was still in the hospital. The bullet had lodged near his heart, and he was an old man. A healthy old man and a liar, and still enough of a force in town that he probably wouldn’t even be charged with obstructing justice. Rachel didn’t care one way or the other. He’d been as blind as she’d been, in his own way. And he’d done his best to make up for it.