“He’s just pissed because he has to work so hard. I’ll call you with anything we get.”
“Thanks again.”
* * *
Kennedy was lying on the backseat of the old Chevrolet. She opened her eyes; a sharp pain shot through her lower jaw. She tested it and decided it wasn’t broken, but it felt as though it should be. What the heck had happened?
She had gone outside, shut the door. A fist reinforced by a set of brass knuckles had caught her hard on the left side of her face. She was briefly aware of slipping down to the ground. It was a little hazy, but she was sure Freddie had tied her hands behind her back, bound her feet, and put a strip of duct tape over her mouth. He dragged her to the waiting car and lifted her inside. He’d panted like a steam engine as he worked. As if he were afraid to take any chances, he pulled out some handcuffs attached to the backseat armrest and fastened one end to her left wrist. She fell over awkwardly, her arms stretched tight.
Moving as quickly as his bulk would allow, he ran to the trunk and pulled out a crowbar. He went back to Wylie’s door and stood in the shadows.
The fog lifted completely now: her captors were Freddie and Dolores. So this was how it was going to end. They were the killers all along and kept at it even when they knew they had nothing to gain.
It made sense. They probably killed PJ for the money and then Delie to increase Dolores’s share. Sweet probably helped along the way, so he had to die too so he couldn’t blow the whistle on them. If they could pin it all on Kennedy, Dolores would inherit the money. Except there was no money. But they still had to get out from under murder charges. So she knew without question they were planning to take her somewhere and kill her. And make sure she was the scapegoat for everything.
Kennedy’s thoughts went to Wylie. She hadn’t been able to see much once she had been dumped into the car, but she was sure they must have done something to him. Please God, she prayed, please let him be OK.
Dolores whirled in the front seat and looked Kennedy in the eyes. “Morning,” she chirped. “Time to rise and shine. You don’t want to sleep through the last day of your life, do you?”
The tape over Kennedy’s mouth prevented her from answering, so she just grunted in anger.
“Now, now”—Dolores smiled—“don’t be a bad sport. You lost, we won. Deal with it.” Dolores kissed Freddie on the cheek. “What should we do after, Daddy?”
“We’ve been over this. We go home and act innocent until this blows over.”
The irritation in his tone was something Kennedy hadn’t expected.
She struggled to sit upright. She almost managed when Dolores reached back and yanked the tape off her mouth. Combined with the pain in her lower jaw, the tearing loose yielded exquisite agony. She stifled the groan, unwilling to give them the satisfaction of knowing Dolores hurt her.
“Scream away, Sis. No one will hear you.” Dolores grinned, enjoying all this immensely.
“Where are we going?” Kennedy asked.
“Well, you’re going to hell. Right, Daddy?”
Freddie was getting into the spirit now. “Well, I suppose you may as well tell her everything since she isn’t getting out of this one. Besides, I like hearing about what we did.”
“Well, first, I’ll just bet you’re wondering about Daddy and me. We’ve been in love a long time, haven’t we, Daddy?”
Freddie didn’t respond.
“He married my mama to be with me. One thing we always had in common was we both hated you.”
Kennedy couldn’t help but be curious. “Why?”
Dolores laughed. “So many reasons. Mostly because you always held yourself apart. Because you thought you were too good for us.”
“I was too good for Freddie. I remember I threw up when he tried to get into my pants.”
“That’s a lie!” Dolores screamed. “He would never try to fuck you. Never. We did things to Delie, but we did them together. He would never have touched you.”
Her rage was out of control, and she reared back and put the full force of her body into the punch she threw. It connected with Kennedy’s nose. Her head jerked backward, hard. The agony ripping through her jaw kept her conscious, and she was grateful. She didn’t want to get knocked out now.
Clearly satisfied she had exacted some measure of revenge, Dolores spoke to Freddie. “She is lying, isn’t she, Daddy? You wouldn’t ever touch her, would you?” Dolores whined.
Kennedy heard Freddie reach over and pat her thigh. “Yes, baby. She is lying. There’s never been anyone except you. You know that. But I sure wish you hadn’t aged. I gotta get me some young stuff. I wonder if I might have a shot at Kennedy before we kill her. I just hate to let one go, even if she is too old for me. You wouldn’t mind giving your old daddy one last shot at the bitch, would you? You could watch.”
Dolores slammed her back into the seat, clearly not delighted with the prospect. Before she could respond, the car skidded to a stop. Sand and dirt flew out as the tires tried to grip the soft ground. Freddie and Dolores got out of the car. Freddie opened the back door.
Kennedy pretended to be unconscious. She was limp, so Freddie dragged her out of the vehicle. She hit the ground with a thump.
Dolores giggled. “Bet that’s gonna leave a mark,” she chortled. “Serves her right. I don’t know what you ever saw in her. Besides, I am thinking of getting new tits. It’ll make me look younger. What do you think, Daddy?”
“Don’t just stand there. Help me,” Freddie snapped.
Together they dragged Kennedy away from the car and settled her against a huge rock, where she slumped to the ground. He returned to the car and opened the trunk, pulled out a shovel, and slammed it shut. Then he and Dolores sat down on the sand and waited.
“Wish I’d brought a pillow,” Dolores whined.
“Did you have to hit her so hard?” Freddie asked, irritated.
“The lying bitch had it coming. She deserved much worse. She’s gonna get dead anyway. What difference does it make?”
“It makes a difference,” he said patiently, “because if she’s alive we can have the satisfaction of telling her everything and watching her while we do. And then she can dig her own grave and save us getting our hands dirty.”
“Oh, Daddy, you are so smart.”
“I know.”
Dolores got up and stretched. She moved to Kennedy and kicked her, hard, in the ribs. Kennedy let out her breath in a whoosh and swallowed the urge to scream.
“Wake up, bitch,” Dolores yelled in her face.
Kennedy groaned at this new assault as she pretended to regain consciousness. She couldn’t keep up the act all day anyway. Maybe if she “woke up,” it might stop Dolores from kicking her again. Kennedy opened her eyes and blinked at the light. “Where am I?” she mumbled.
“You’re here with your family,” Dolores cackled. “And we’re gonna see to it you have all the things you’re entitled to.”
“I don’t understand. What do you want?” Kennedy was still foggy after the blows to her head; her face and right side were screaming in pain.
“Well,” Dolores said, “it’s like this. You and your boyfriend planned it all. You wanted all of PJ’s money for yourself, and you got rid of anybody who got in your way.”
“What? Dolores, there is no money. I know that, and now you know that, so why would I try to get more of nothing?”
“Well, it doesn’t matter anymore. We’re in too deep. Blaming you is the only way out, money or no money. And that’s how everyone’s going to see it. You and your boyfriend had no choice but to get rid of everyone who was in on it with you.”
“What about you? If we use your logic, why didn’t I try to get rid of you in the beginning?”
“You tried. You stabbed me in the shoulder, but I escaped. And that hurt. Judy Jane wasn’t supposed to stab me so hard, but she was one strong bitch. Of course, she paid the price.”
Kennedy thought for a moment. “Judy Jane is dead?”
“What does that mean?” Realization hit Kennedy with almost a physical pressure. She was suddenly terrified for Wylie. “Did you hurt him?”
“Oh, Daddy hurt him, but just a little. Or maybe more than a little. He might even be dead. If he woke up, it must have been a big surprise. All that blood. Miller may have shot him trying to resist. Oh, I wish I could have stayed and seen how it all played out.” Dolores turned to Freddie. “Did I tell you that fat bitch Judy Jane actually kissed me once? I thought I’d puke.”
“Hey, after Sweet, it couldn’t have been too bad. At least she didn’t smell.” Freddie laughed.
“Like hell, she didn’t. The greaseball. Why she would ever think I would actually let her touch me?”
“Girlie, we believe what we want to believe. We counted on that, remember?”
“Daddy, call me by my name.”
“OK, Dolores. Now go on with your story. I’m enjoying hearing about the things we did.”
“Well, Kennedy, I suppose I should start at the beginning.” Dolores looked to Freddie for approval. He nodded.
“It all started with our real daddy. His will. When I heard about it, the top of my head came off. After all, why should you get the lion’s share? You’re not even legitimate. So I went to Freddie. You know, Freddie and I have been in love for as long as I can remember. Right, Daddy?”
“Whatever you say, girlie.” He softened his words with a wink.
“Anyway, Freddie said there was a way we could end up with everything. First, we had to get rid of PJ so the money came available.”
Kennedy was horrified. She had always known Dolores was evil, but this was beyond comprehension. “You killed PJ?”
“Well, yes and no. Sweet actually stabbed him. I just asked him to do it. It cost me too. I had to sleep with that stinking pig. Freddie told me it would be worth it.” She looked over at him. “Now I’m not so sure. There’s no money, and we have a mess to clean up. At least you’ll be dead, and that alone makes me pretty happy. You know I hate you, Kennedy. Always have.”
“Why, Dolores?”
“Why do I hate you? Because you were always the prettiest and the smartest. Everyone said so. The teachers at school, my mama, everyone. So I hated you. We all hated you. You didn’t belong, and you never seemed to know it.”
Kennedy didn’t know how to respond to this, so she remained quiet.
“So as I was saying,” Dolores continued, “the next one to go had to be Delie. I sure as hell wasn’t sharing with that screaming nutcase. Plus, she talked too much. You never knew what would come out of her mouth. I know she came to you with a side deal to cut me out. Well, she’s the one who got cut.” Dolores laughed long and hard at her little joke.
“Freddie made her the way she was. Didn’t you care what he was doing to your little sister?” Kennedy was in total disbelief at what Dolores was saying.
“Freddie did it? No, stupid, we did it together. And we enjoyed it. She was our little sex toy, huh, Daddy? Just there for our pleasure.” Freddie nodded in memory, and Kennedy had to swallow hard to keep from vomiting.
“Now where was I? Oh yeah. So it was about that time I knew Sweet had to go. I needed some help with that. Delie was spreading for him by then, and he could no longer be trusted. Sweet loved to brag about his conquests since they were so few and far between. The fact that he had actually nailed the two Johnson girls was quite an accomplishment, and he couldn’t manage to keep it to himself. So I had to look elsewhere. Judy Jane always had the hots for me. Is that disgusting or what? Anyway, she was more than happy to do anything I asked. So I got her to help me get rid of Delie. She enjoyed it. It was scary to watch her stabbing little Delie over and over again and all that blood spurting out. But it was kind of thrilling too.” Dolores’s eyes dilated with excitement at the memory.
“Will you get on with it? I don’t want to be out here all day. And it’s gonna be sunrise soon,” Freddie said.
“Where was I?” Dolores asked.
“Judy Jane and Sweet,” Freddie reminded her.
“Oh yeah. It was amazing. That bitch was so strong. We paid a visit to Sweet, and I sort of danced around in front while Judy Jane slipped behind with a crowbar. Did you ever see brains splatter? Icky. It was her idea to burn him up. Old JJ had her usefulness. Sometimes she’d surprise me, ’cause usually she was as dumb as a box of hair.”
“Hey, girlie, don’t you think we’re gonna miss the fun we’ve been having? Personally I had a really good time helping kill off some of the good citizens of Snakewater. Good thing I run my campaign unopposed. Otherwise I might have to worry about voters.” Unquestionably Freddie loved to hear himself talk about himself. He must have thought he was delightfully entertaining.
Kennedy had been listening in a frozen state of pure horror. It was unfathomable. These two were enjoying rendering in detail ending the lives of people she knew, people she cared about, like her father and even Delie. Talking about their exploits, killing as if they were describing some exotic adventure. She felt as if she was in some sort of terrible nightmare, and she was desperate to wake up. Her thoughts went to Wylie. Kennedy prayed he was all right and not just another of their hapless victims. She couldn’t fathom life without him now. Of course, this could be the end of her own life.
When Dolores spoke again, Kennedy had to fight for focus. “Let’s see, that brings us almost up to date. Judy Jane. Wow. I had to use drugs to bring her down. Luckily, I was smart enough to send Sweet on a little shopping trip to Mexico before he outlived his usefulness. Did you know they sell roofies down there practically over the counter?”
“Roofies?” Kennedy was a little dazed by everything that was happening, and the name of the drug didn’t register.
“The date rape drug.” Dolores burst out laughing. “Oh, she definitely got raped, but not in the way she hoped. “I had her convinced she was the love of my life. It was almost too easy. But then, so many people believe what I want them to.”
“That artery in the neck—what’s it called?” Dolores went on to no one in particular. “Anyway, that sucker spurts like a fountain. What a mess.”
“Are you done talking?” Freddie asked.
“Almost. Just one more thing. The secret, Kennedy, is to be everybody’s friend. Tell them what they want to hear, give him what they need, and everyone will love you. You never understood that. Which is why you’re tied up and gonna die, and me and Freddie are gonna live happily ever after.” Dolores burst into a fit of giggles.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Miller looked at Wylie, standing and holding onto the cell bars, then pacing, then returning to the same stance.
“Look,” Miller said, “a lot of this makes no sense. All I know is you were found near the latest vic with the weapon in your hand and her blood all over you. Maybe Kennedy planted it or maybe you’re guilty as sin, but you’re certainly staying here until I have more information.”
Before Wylie could respond, the office door flew open. Martha raced into the room. Her face was white, and she was trembling, tears shining in her gray eyes. “George, what happened? Is it Kennedy? Is she hurt? I heard there was a murder at the motel. Where’s Kennedy?” She was close to shrieking with her concern.
George moved to her and put his arms around her. “Shhhh. The victim was Judy Jane.” He stroked her hair to calm her down.
“Thank you, Jesus,” she whispered. She pulled back. “What’s going on? Where’s Kennedy?” Martha looked over at the cell, and her mouth fell open. “And why is Wylie locked up?”
“We don’t know where Kennedy is,” Miller said, clearly reluctant to tell her that.
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
George released her and guided her to a chair. “Martha, it seems she’s taken off. I don’t want to be the one to tell you this, but I think Kennedy is up to her nec
k in all this.”
Martha jumped up, outraged. “What is wrong with you? She had nothing to do with anyone being murdered.” She was obviously trying to get hold of herself and failing. “What happened? Were you there?” she asked Wylie.
“This is all my fault. Freddie came to the door and asked to talk to her privately. I shouldn’t have let her be alone with him. I should have known better. But she said it was OK. I didn’t think he was any threat to her. If I had, I never would have let him near her.”
“Just tell me what happened,” Martha said.
“As I was telling Miller, Kennedy went outside with Freddie, although she appeared a little reluctant. But then I knew she didn’t like him. When she didn’t come back in after a few minutes, I went to check on her. Someone hit me hard and knocked me cold. I wish I knew more. Tell him we need to look for Kennedy. That she’s the one in danger.”
Martha faced Miller. “He’s right. You say you care for me? Then care for mine too. Believe in her. She didn’t do anything wrong, and now Freddie is going to try and hurt her. Come on, we’re wasting time.”
“Why would Freddie want to harm Kennedy?” Miller asked.
“Because he’s evil. I don’t know. Ask yourself this: what family matter could he possibly want to talk to her about? Don’t you get it? It was an excuse to get close enough to her to take her. And then he attacked Wylie.” She looked over at him. “Are you OK?”
“A headache is all. Oh, and a murder charge. I just want to find Kennedy. I know he took her. He might hurt her or worse. Please talk some sense into the sheriff. We have to go looking for her.”
She glared at Miller. “George, he’s right. Why are you just sitting here? I need you to find my baby girl. If she’s with Freddie, God forbid, she’s in some real danger.”
Miller was quiet for a moment. Martha’s patience was obviously at an end. “George, in the name of God, think. Kennedy is in love with Wylie. She didn’t have any reason to hurt anyone. If there’d been any money, she would have gotten most of it anyway. So why risk everything to get a little more? More than that, she would have to leave the love of her life.”
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