by Sandra Balzo
‘Chicken-shit,’ she said again, and this time laughed.
The driver tapped his or her horn again and AnnaLise realized she should pull off at the next overlook, not only as a courtesy, but to get out and walk around. Relax a little before heading back, this time south across the viaduct.
More circle-driveway than actual lot, the next turnout she came to had just enough room for perhaps two or three vehicles to park nose-in on either side of a small stand of trees. AnnaLise turned off anyway, raising her hand again in a ‘thank you for your patience’ gesture to the driver behind her, only to realize the SUV was turning in behind her.
Wonderful. Probably going to tell her what a bad driver she was. Or, even worse, ask if AnnaLise was all right. Or maybe it's Earl and he wants to introduce you to his girlfriend, she told herself. Or take the Camry back for risking it on the Parkway, she replied.
But when AnnaLise pulled into the first, angle-parking space, the SUV continued past to park on the other side of the trees. Not Earl, because this SUV – an Explorer – was dark blue, not black.
Likely some long-suffering family praying their vehicle wouldn't get stuck again behind ‘the tourist’ who'd already led them on a painfully slow trek across the viaduct.
Not to worry, AnnaLise thought as she turned off the ignition and swung open the Camry's door. She'd wait to let them leave first. Maybe get out and stretch. Take in the view. Even the thought of standing at the railing didn't seem as daunting as it once had.
Slipping out of the test-drive Toyota, AnnaLise checked her pocket for the fob. With cell phone service sometimes chancy, she didn't want to lock herself out and find she had to walk back across the viaduct, if that were even possible. She sure hadn't seen anything that suggested a pedestrian path. But then, she hadn't seen much of anything except for those last few feet of terra firma.
Leaving her purse in the car, AnnaLise swung the door closed and locked up with the fob, sliding it into her pocket as she approached the lookout.
Still not quite brave enough to walk all the way up to the railing, she nevertheless managed to get within two feet of it. ‘Not bad,’ she said.
‘Talking to yourself again?’
AnnaLise turned to see Ben Rosewood, feet planted at shoulder-width, and looking all the more menacing for seeming to be relaxed.
Thirty
The man of AnnaLise's dreams. Or nightmares, more recently accurate.
‘I'm very proud of you for making that drive over the viaduct,’ Ben said, edging closer without seeming to move at all. ‘I know how frightened you must have been.’
AnnaLise crossed her arms. ‘Actually, I was fine.’
Ben smiled – a genuine smile, not the self-effacing one he used in public, practiced in the mirror. The one that made him seem a little embarrassed by his own accomplishments. ‘So fine you barely broke ten miles an hour? I thought you were going to oversteer that Camry right off the edge.’ He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. ‘How do you like it, by the way?’
‘It's a very nice car.’
‘Good. I've never driven it, but the thing should be, for what it cost me.’
‘Suzanne must have been thrilled.’
‘Barely said thank you, actually. But then that's kids these days.’ This smile was wistful, with a little ‘whatcha-going-to-do’ thrown in.
‘Well, I'm sure Suzanne appreciated it.’ Polite conversation, to mask the fact that AnnaLise was trying to figure out what Ben was doing there. On the other side of the trees, she could just make out the sound of his Explorer's engine still running.
Set for some version of a fast getaway? AnnaLise stepped back from the low railing and the carpet of flame-colored trees below and toward her test-drive Camry.
Ben followed gracefully, then settled his butt on the pristine car's hood. ‘Well, I'd like you to have it.’
‘Have what?’
The district attorney looked down and actually blushed. ‘The Camry.’
AnnaLise shook her head. ‘I can't take that car from you. Why would you even suggest it?’
‘Because I care about you.’ He held her eyes for a beat or two and, when she didn't respond, he continued anyway. ‘I'm flying back to Wisconsin tomorrow to make the necessary arrangements. I don't need another car and, even if I did, I don't think I could bring myself to drive this one.’
AnnaLise could feel herself softening, doubting. What if she'd been wrong? What if her former lover had nothing to do with the death of his wife and daughter? He'd lost so much in the space of four days.
‘Ben, I'm sorry.’
‘Me, too.’ He reached over and squeezed her hand. ‘That's why I followed you here.’
AnnaLise's heart skipped a beat, and not in the good way. ‘You followed me from Earl's garage?’
Ben shrugged. ‘As I said, I'm leaving tomorrow. I wanted to see you, but dropping by your mother's place wasn't an attractive – or viable – option.’
‘Good thinking,’ AnnaLise said. ‘But I don't think we have anything left to say.’ Even as she spoke those words, she began reconsidering them, not because she had any intention of continuing on with Ben, but because she wanted to see what his next move would be. ‘Unless . . .’ She practically batted her eyes at him.
Ben looked startled. ‘Unless what?’
‘Unless we can drop the pretense and become an above-board couple. After a suitable period of mourning, naturally.’
‘I don't think that's a good idea.’
‘But why not?’ AnnaLise persisted. ‘Tanja is dead and you're free. It's what you told me you've always wanted.’
‘I never said I wanted my wife dead.’
‘Of course you did,’ AnnaLise said, channeling Glenn Close, just inches away from boiling a bunny. ‘You said Tanja was a bitch. Once you even said that if she were to go down on a plane, we –’
‘For God's sake, AnnaLise, grow up.’ Ben moved her back with the palm of his hand. ‘If I had a dollar for every time I told a woman I loved her or used that –’
‘Every time?’ AnnaLise knew she shouldn't have been surprised, but . . . she was. Bad enough to be singularly, volitionally, stupid, but to be nothing more than one generic fool in a herd of stupid women?
Ben was shaking his head regretfully, as if facing a witness incapable of finding her way to the witness stand, much less answering a question competently. ‘Yes, of course. Before I met you, while we were together and subsequent to our break-up. I never said there weren't other,’ finger quotes in the air, “other women.”’
AnnaLise felt like part of a tag team – Ben Rosewood's Gullible Ladies of Mattress-Wrestling. ‘You never said there “were.”’ Responding finger quotes.
A shrug. ‘You didn't ask.’
AnnaLise's eyes narrowed. ‘Oh, but I did. Our first time together, in fact. I recall your exact words: “No. No one but you.” Then you kissed me.’
Ben shrugged again. ‘There happened not to be anyone but you, at that particular moment.’
‘And in that particular room.’ AnnaLise was shaking her head. ‘What did I need to do? Specify a time period and GPS coordinates?’
‘Honestly? Yes. And if you had, I'd have told you the numerical truth. Though no names, of course.’
‘Of course. Because you're such a gentleman.’
‘Ahh, the sarcasm doth drip. But who are you angry with, AnnaLise? Me, or yourself, for being so naive? I have to admit, I was surprised you didn't probe further, given how smart you seemed to be. But then, when I saw where you came from,’ he spread his hands out wide, palms up. ‘I appreciated the naiveté.’
Speechless with rage – and not just a little wonder at his ability to pull off such fraud –AnnaLise just stared at him. What had life with this man been like? No wonder Tanja stressed she wasn't a good ‘sharer’ upon their meeting that morning at Mama's. It hadn't even been personal. Ben's wife was just playing the percentage bet.
AnnaLise took a deep breath, trying to remember that
the real issue here was not that the man was a cheater – she'd always known that, God help her – but that he was a murderer.
And she was standing alone on a cliff with him.
‘You're absolutely right. I was naive,’ AnnaLise said. ‘But that's the unchangeable past. Let's return to the Camry. If we're negotiating, what do you want for it?’
Ben looked surprised at the abrupt shift of subject, but went along with it. ‘As I said, I thought about giving it to you outright, but that might look odd under the circumstances.’
And God forbid we should look odd.
‘. . . enlist Lawling as the middleman,’ Ben was saying. ‘I've told him he's to accept any offer you made.’
Now AnnaLise was genuinely surprised. ‘Really? Earl said you might take sixteen thousand.’
‘I bet he did,’ Ben said. ‘Lawling's getting a percentage of the sale. Tell him you can't go over seven and then let me know what you agreed on, so he doesn't pocket more than his share of the deal.’
The district attorney was not a ‘truster.’ Probably because he knew he couldn't be trusted himself. ‘I don't think Earl would do that.’
‘Or course you don't, Pollyanna. Only good and honest folk here in the High Country.’ Ben, who'd been leaning on the hood of the car, drew himself up and met her eyes. ‘Let me remind you that one of your upright citizens killed my wife and daughter.’
‘That hasn't been proven,’ AnnaLise snapped, realizing the bastard planned to do figuratively to Josh what he'd done quite literally to AnnaLise. And she was damned if she was going to let that happen.
But Ben just shook his head. ‘Still the champion of the young. And the stupid.’
AnnaLise knew the district attorney was talking about their disagreement over the charge he'd leveled against the teen in Wisconsin. ‘All kids do stupid things. Everyone does. I know for a fact you routinely speed. Why should that girl back home go to jail for doing the same thing?’
‘Because she killed someone, and I didn't.’
‘So it's just simple chance.’ AnnaLise wanted to smack the smug expression off his face. ‘An accident.’
‘If you take someone's life, there's a penalty that must be paid.’ He seemed almost bored.
‘And what about you, Ben? What's your penalty for what you've done?’
‘Fine. I've told you I was sorry. You were much too young, too immature for me to –’
‘I'm not talking about the affair, you pompous, egotistical asshole,’ AnnaLise exploded. ‘I'm talking about your wife and daughter.’
‘AnnaLise.’ The district attorney shook his head sadly. ‘I know you've been through a lot with your mom and all, but have you thought that maybe her problems are less random and more . . . genetic? Perhaps you –’
AnnaLise slapped his right cheek. Hard.
The district attorney staggered back as he grabbed her wrist, his face white with rage. ‘Try that again and you're dead,’ he hissed. ‘Do you hear? No one hits Benjamin Rosewood.’
Given their height and weight differential, AnnaLise was being lifted off the ground and onto her toes, the grip on her forearm so painful it was all she could do not to cry out. ‘Let . . . me . . . go!’ she said between clenched teeth.
Ben twisted her arm the wrong way against her elbow, and this time she did scream.
‘Say it.’ He thrust her away from him. ‘Say you think I killed my wife and daughter.’
AnnaLise tried to catch herself, but fell backwards, landing hard on her rear end. ‘Sure I'll say it. And I'm betting so has Joshua Eames, now that he's regained consciousness.’
‘No. He has not!’ Ben exploded.
‘But he has,’ AnnaLise said, rubbing her aching wrist. ‘The bullet missed his brain. You made a mistake. A bad one.’
Ben, nearly shaking with rage, took steps forward, bringing his face directly over her. AnnaLise skittered away like a crab, until the upright of the rail fence bit into her back. In the heat of the moment, she hadn't realized how close she'd come to leaving the overlook.
And life, permanently.
‘Stay away from me,’ AnnaLise screamed as loudly as she could manage with her heart in her throat.
Ben backed off and looked around as a lone car passed by on the Parkway. ‘I'm sorry, I'm sorry,’ he said, holding up his hands, palms forward.
‘I could have gone over,’ AnnaLise said, glancing behind her. ‘Is that what you wanted?’
‘Of course not. Are you hurt?’ Ben put his hand down as if to help her up, but she slid sideways from him.
‘I'm OK, but no thanks to you.’ Still too near the edge for her comfort, AnnaLise crawled on hands and knees until she felt confident that she could stand up without tipping over backward.
Ben said, ‘Please, AnnaLise, this has gotten out of hand,’ coming closer again.
‘Back off!’ AnnaLise rose unsteadily, feeling in her jeans pocket.
No cell phone. She'd left it and her purse in the Camry.
Even if AnnaLise didn't have a chance to dial, at least if her phone was nearby and something happened, they'd locate her via its GPS. Daisy wouldn't wait –
‘Wait,’ Ben echoed. ‘Can we start this whole conversation over?’ He appeared to follow her directions, but in reality was just circling – or semi-circling, given the cliff. ‘You have to know what kind of damage this will do to my career if you –’
‘If I what? Tell the truth?’
Ben was moving clockwise toward her. Doing the same in order to keep her distance would take AnnaLise over the cliff. He said, ‘And what do you think is the truth?’
‘What do I think?’ AnnaLise stood her ground, hand still in her pocket. ‘I think the good voters of Urban County hit the trifecta when they elected you. Liar/Cheater/Murderer, all on one easy-to-pull lever. How's that fit your “Rule of 3”?’
‘You have to stop this –’ He was just past the left front fender of the Camry now.
AnnaLise pressed. Two quick and then one . . . two . . . three.
The Toyota started.
Startled, Ben whirled around toward the car. ‘What the hell –’
But AnnaLise was on the move and by the time the district attorney turned back, she'd already hopped into his rented, still-running Explorer and locked the doors.
Thirty-one
AnnaLise had never driven that fast down the Blue Ridge Parkway. The fact she was recrossing the viaduct and piloting a large and unfamiliar vehicle – the Explorer Ben Rosewood had rented from Earl Lawling – made it even more remarkable.
Passing within range of the Toyota on the way out of the overlook, she'd employed the Camry's fob once more, this time pressing 'unlock' on the remote once. The engine shut off just as Earl had promised.
‘“The Key is in Your Hands,”’ AnnaLise yelled back. ‘Too bad you didn't practice what you preach for once.’
She wasn't sure Ben would appreciate the irony, even if he'd heard her. 'The Key is in Your Hands' was a campaign he'd spearheaded to reduce car theft by enforcing a law already on the books – fines for car owners who left their keys in their vehicles.
And now he would pay. Having left his own keys and cell phone in the SUV that AnnaLise was now driving – and unable to start the Camry without the fob that she also held –Benjamin Rosewood would be going nowhere fast. Walking or hitching a ride were his only options and whichever he chose, AnnaLise would be safely to Sutherton before Ben was even off the Parkway.
As her fear started to subside, it left behind anger. Since she didn't have her phone, her plan was to drive directly to the police station.
She didn't get the chance.
***
At the sound of the siren, AnnaLise pulled over, having gotten as far as the state highway. The squad parked behind her and, as it did, another squad pulled past and stopped at an angle across the front end of the Explorer.
The officers exited the cars with their guns drawn.
I'm driving a stolen car, AnnaLise thought. An
d, Ben reported me somehow. She carefully kept her hands where they could see them.
‘Step out of the car, ma'am,’ said the shorter of the two officers, handgun drawn.
‘Coy,’ AnnaLise said, complying. ‘Coy Pitchford. It's me, AnnaLise Griggs.’
‘AnnaLise?’ He was still keeping the muzzle on her, unwavering. ‘Whatever are you doing stealing a motor vehicle?’
When Coy said the word ‘vehicle,’ the letter ‘h’ was not silent.
Nor was AnnaLise. ‘I didn't steal it, Coy. I borrowed it to get away from a killer. He has my car.’ Or more precisely he has his own car. Fat chance he'd be selling it to AnnaLise now.
‘And your cell phone apparently.’
AnnaLise turned to see Chuck Greystone, who was the second officer on the scene. She'd been so rattled, she hadn't even realized. ‘Chuck, thank God you're here.’
‘Boyfriend trouble?’ Chuck waved for Coy to holster his weapon.
AnnaLise started to deny it, but then thought what the hell. ‘Killer boyfriend trouble. Ben Rosewood is a murderous ass, pure and simple.’
Chuck leaned down to peer into her face. ‘Whatever are you talking about, AnnaLise?’
‘The term “killer.”’ AnnaLise was dithering and she didn't seem to be able to stop herself. The words just kept tumbling out. ‘It can also mean “great,” like that was a “killer” chicken recipe, and –’
‘And this all has what to do with Ben Rosewood calling me on your cell phone to report you'd stolen his Explorer and left him stranded at an overlook?’
‘It's not his Explorer,’ AnnaLise said. ‘It's Earl Lawling's. The Toyota I left with him is Ben's. Or Suzanne's, though I can't imagine he would have put it in her name, what with insurance premiums and all.’
Chuck turned to Coy. ‘Cuff her and bring her in for questioning.’
***
The chief of police was sitting forward in his chair, left elbow on the desk, that hand tented against his forehead like he was battling a headache.
Coy hadn't actually handcuffed AnnaLise, but she was now seated in one of Chuck's two guest chairs.