A Charmed Death

by Madelyn Alt

  Dr. Phillips appeared at my window, smiling amiably beneath a thick woolen beanie cap. I rolled the glass down a couple of inches. “She’s not going to make it up without a little push,” he told me. “It would be safer pushing if I had some help. Would you mind?”

  I didn’t want to agree, but I didn’t want to alert him to my reluctance, either, so I found myself saying, “All right.” After backing off to a safe distance, I set the emergency brake, but I left Christine running with her lights on, pointing the way to safety, before getting out and crunching over in the snow that now reached above my ankles. Wind swirled the snow in circles around us. I shivered. My winter coat and boots were your standard cold-weather fare, made for weathering cold vehicles and walking from the garage to the house, not for long-term exposure. Cold from the snow seeped through my boots as I stood waiting while Dr. Phillips advised Katie to start in the parking lot before hitting the grade.

  “You take that side, and I’ll take this one, and we should be able to get her up there,” he told me. “Just set your feet on edge in the snow for traction.” To Katie he said, “Nice and easy, Katie, my girl. Keep your foot steady on the gas and keep going once we get you moving.”

  It worked far better than I thought it would. Katie’s little car slipped only once this time, and she managed to work it out before taking Dr. Phillips’s advice and continuing on. With his attention following Katie’s departing taillights, I beat a hasty retreat back to my car. Crunching my way hurriedly through the snow, I didn’t realize until it was too late that a layer of ice had formed against the ground. My feet slid out from under me and I landed on my rear, my hand out to catch my fall. Pain shot up my right arm, catching fire in my shoulder.

  “Are you okay?”

  My breath caught in my throat as Dr. Phillips appeared over me. “I’m fine.”

  He tried to help me to my feet, but I scrambled up on my own, eyeing him warily. “You’re not. Here, let me take a look at it. Where does it hurt?”

  I muttered something about my shoulder, and tried not to flinch as he made to unfasten my wool coat and peel it back. His hands were gentle, but I couldn’t help wincing as he probed the aching area. “I don’t feel anything broken or out of place in there, necessarily, but you need to have it x-rayed. Why don’t you let me take you over to the hospital—”

  I shook my head fiercely. “No. It’s sprained or something, okay, I’ll give you that, but it’s not broken. I’m sure of it.”

  “Sprains can be even worse than breaks when it comes to healing. At least come back inside and let me treat you. You can have your family take you in, if that would make you feel better.”

  I was stuck.

  Dr. Phillips decided things for me when he went to Christine, switched off her engine, and returned with my keys and my purse. My mouth dry, I found myself supported on the arm of a killer as we maneuvered through the falling snow back to the office.

  I stopped just inside the door and sat down decisively on one of the lobby chairs. “I’ll just wait here,” I told him.

  He looked at me oddly as he set my purse down on the counter. “Suit yourself. I’ll be right back with some supplies.”

  As soon as Phillips disappeared behind the Dutch door, I dug my cell phone out of my coat pocket and dialed Marcus’s number. His phone rang, once, twice, three times. Marcus, where did you go? Pick up, dammit!

  Frustrated, I pressed END, just as Dr. Phillips reappeared in the hallway, whistling like a madman. I tucked the phone away in the folds of my coat as I watched him make his way toward me down the hall.

  “Here we are.” Phillips sat down next to me and began to slowly extract my right arm from my coat. “I’m terribly sorry this happened. I feel responsible, in a way. If I hadn’t asked you to help—”

  “Not your fault,” I said through gritted teeth.

  “Perhaps not, but . . . Well. This brace should help until we can get you to the hospital for X-rays. And then I’ll drive you wherever you need to go. Home, or your parents’?”

  Drive me? “No, really, there’s no need for that,” I said quickly. “I can manage.”

  He smiled at me. “In an old Volkswagen? You won’t be driving a stick shift tonight, young lady. Not with this shoulder.”

  Panic swelled within me, but I refused to give in to it. “It’s feeling better already.”

  His eyes caught mine. “You’re lying.” He cocked his head, pale eyes assessing me in curiosity. “I wonder why?”

  He rose to his feet and walked a few feet away from me, toward the glass door. A few moments ticked by in silence as he stared out at the falling snow. “Why did you come here tonight?” he asked. “Oh, I know. Your earring. But you were lying then, too, weren’t you.”

  I opened my mouth, thinking fast, but he didn’t let me answer.

  “I asked myself, why would you feel the need to come out in a winter storm to find an earring? You could just as easily have waited until morning. It’s not as though the earring would be going anywhere, if it was indeed ever here at all.” He paused and turned back toward me.

  I opened my mouth, but no sound came out.

  “Neither does it explain why you decided to take one of my photographs off my wall. No sense in denying it, you know. I saw it in your purse.”

  My gaze drifted to where my purse rested on the reception counter. I swallowed hard. “Dr. Phillips, I—”

  “Yes? You what, my dear? What possible reason could you have for taking a personal photo? I’m afraid I don’t understand. I might think kleptomania the culprit, but you took nothing but a ten-dollar frame.”

  And as I watched, he took a key out of his pocket and locked the inner door. The finality of the action touched home like nothing else had. “What are you doing?”

  “Keeping my property from running away, as it seems wont to do.”

  “Are you going to call the police?” I asked. Hope against hope.

  “Not yet. First we’re going to take a look at that photograph that you seemed so interested in.”

  He strode to the counter and picked up my purse. “Dr. Phillips—”

  “Let’s just see. Ah, yes. I love this picture. I took it just after we bought the boat last June. She’s gorgeous, isn’t she? But why would you be interested in this particular photograph?”

  I was beyond thinking. My mind spun and spun, but nothing happened to get me out of this mess.

  And then my cell phone rang. I pressed it protectively against my leg.

  “Aren’t you going to answer it?” Dr. Phillips asked me, standing over me with the frame in his hand.

  Swallowing hard, I flipped open the case and pressed SEND. “Hello?”

  “Hey, sweet stuff. You rang?”

  My heart felt like it was going to beat straight out of my chest. “Marcus. What a surprise.”

  Marcus laughed, oblivious to the terror in my voice. “Sorry I didn’t pick up. I was down in my office working on the files and I didn’t want to give up to answer the phone. I think I’m close, Maggie. Very close. I’ve gotten a couple of them open, so far just copies of the blog entries, but maybe one of the others will be more enlightening. One of these days I’ll show you a little more how the code-breaking programs work. It’s pretty fascinating stuff.”

  My breath caught as Dr. Phillips reached for me. But instead of grabbing me, he pushed the volume button on the phone, until Marcus’s voice was loud enough that I needed to hold the phone away from my ear. I gripped the phone harder.

  “What’s wrong, Maggie? Where are you?”

  I cleared my throat. “Nothing. Nowhere.”

  “You sound a little strange.”

  “Do I?” I forced a laugh. “Must be the storm. Listen, I’m going to have to go—”

  “Did you get the pictures I sent over all right? They turned out really well after I cleaned them up a bit. The boat is pretty sharp and clear, you should be able to see it, even on your phone. I’m thinking they should be able to run a recor
d check on the name—”

  I cut him off quickly, my eyes locked on Dr. Phillips. “Yeah, I got ’em. Thanks, Marcus. Anyway, gotta go, places to go, people to meet.”

  A pause. “Yeah. Sure. Okay. ’Bye, Maggie.”

  “See y’around.”

  I pressed END quickly.

  “Who was that? Marcus your boyfriend?”

  I shook my head.

  “Just a friend? You sure about that?”

  I nodded.

  “A friend in need is a friend indeed,” he quipped, chuckling heartily at his own joke. With his rosy cheeks and big nose, he reminded me a little too closely of the jovial Santa who’d been hired to visit all of the River Street shops throughout the holiday season. I’d never see Santa in quite the same way again. “Just one more thing. What pictures did he send you?”

  Crap. I tightened my hand protectively around the opened phone.

  “Well, why don’t you just let me see them, hm? I think it’s a fair exchange. You looked at my photos, I look at yours.” He held out his hand.

  Short of throwing the phone at him and pissing him off, it wasn’t much good for self-defense, and there was no way I could keep it from him if he decided to take it by force. Biting my lip at the loss, I handed it over.

  I sat quietly, trying to still my thoughts, knowing I was about to be completely and utterly exposed.

  The expression on his face as he flipped from picture to picture and back again was as bland and imperturbable as if he was surveying the breakfast menu down at Ivy’s Truck Stop. “Well, well. Where on earth did you get these?” He sat down next to me, frowning when I flinched away from him. He sighed and moved opposite me instead. “You needn’t worry. I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to know where you found these pictures.”

  I wasn’t stupid. If he wanted to harm me, it wouldn’t be all that difficult. Not only did he outweigh me by at least a good seventy-five pounds, but my injury was going to make fighting back difficult. Reasoning was my only defense. “From Amanda,” I said at last.

  “So you’ve found your voice again. That’s good. How did you know Mandy?”

  His pale eyes watched me closely. Curious, more than threatening. I relaxed, just a hair. “I didn’t, really.”

  “She gave you these pictures out of the goodness of her heart, hey?” He leaned back in the hard lobby chair and steepled his fingers over his bulging stomach. “I doubt that. Mandy was hardly what I’d call altruistic. Why don’t you just tell me where you got them. Did you steal them?”

  “No. I didn’t steal them. I found them. In a clock she’d bought that her mother returned to our store.”

  He closed his eyes wearily. “As easy as that. Good Lord, I wonder what else she’s squirreled away.”

  He sounded so tired, I almost felt sorry for him. “There are files, Dr. Phillips. And her blog. The police have all of that now.”

  He lifted his brows. “Do they? I suppose they do. I should have known I couldn’t trust her. Randy should have known, too. Did you know she’d been with him that afternoon? I followed her. Poor Randy will be the one they blame. I’ll have to make sure of that now.”

  Of course I knew, too, but somehow I got the feeling that he didn’t see me as much of an obstacle. I was starting to get that eerie feeling again. Keep him talking . . . “Why do you think the police will continue to suspect Randy?”

  Again he cocked his head with that calm stare. “Why wouldn’t they? He had the motive. He had the opportunity. You see, my dear, the easiest solution is so often the right one. No one believes in conspiracy theories anymore. And he did break into your apartment. Why, I can’t quite figure. Did he know about the pictures?”

  “I think it was the CD,” I told him, knowing that information could not help him now. “I guess he was worried about what might be on it.”

  “He should have been, too. Was she blackmailing him, like she did me? Or was she just using him to get what she wanted?”

  “What is it she wanted, Dr. Phillips?”

  “Money? Power? Sex? Who the hell knows what went on in that twisted little head of hers. All I know is that she held open the door, and fool that I was, I walked straight into her lair.”

  I wasn’t about to ask what he had planned for me. Better not to know than to worry about how and when it would happen. I doubted he’d tell me the truth anyway.

  “Why did you kill her?”

  “Kill her?” His salt-and-pepper brows rose high. “I didn’t kill her. No, she killed herself. Or might as well have. She killed herself when she tried to ruin my good name. To destroy a lifetime of good work. I couldn’t keep paying her what she was asking. Susan—my wife—had found one of the withdrawal slips and questioned me about it. I was able to explain that five thousand away, but I just couldn’t risk having her find out the truth. Dear me, no. And then the damned fool girl went and got herself pregnant! Mine, so she said, but I think you and I both know the likelihood of that. But Mandy was threatening to tell my wife. She’d even come to the house a couple of times with high school fund-raisers. It was only a matter of time before she said something to Susan. Hell, she might have done even if I had kept paying her. For kicks. Mandy liked her kicks.”

  A baby, too! So Gen’s intuition had been right. Dear God. That would mean . . . “How . . . how did you do it?”

  “I didn’t hurt her,” he was quick to assure me. “It was very quiet, very easy, her passing. There are so many drugs that can immobilize a person. Things that are difficult to trace. But it wasn’t supposed to kill her. Just to make her . . . go to sleep until I could get her in the water. That was a bit of a mistake, yes, it was. All water under the bridge, I suppose.”

  His sudden laugh at the unintentional pun chilled me to the bone. It was at that moment that I knew for certain his regret and sorrow only ran so deep. His sense of self-preservation was far better developed.

  He rose suddenly and held his hand out to me. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

  Home. Right.

  I reached for my cell phone, but he took it and slipped it into his coat pocket before gathering up my purse and pulling me gently to my feet.

  “Did you want something for the pain?” he asked me. “Your shoulder must be bothering you.”

  I hesitated only a moment before answering, “All right.”

  I palmed the pills, rather than swallowing. I knew they were meant to relax me into oblivion, but I left him his deception. Maybe he thought I was the type to go gently into that good night, submissive and docile. Whatever, by the time he piled me into the backseat of his SUV, I was playing in full sleep mode. Surprisingly gentle, Dr. Phillips laid me out across the backseat before throwing my purse in and closing the door. My shoulder was throbbing, and I would have loved to have had the benefit of medicine to dull the pain, but it was a risk I could not take. Every throb meant I was still alive. I would cling to that hope to get me through.

  I would have given anything to have my cell phone back as I recognized that we were on a route that would take us out of town. Dr. Phillips’s SUV performed beautifully in the snow, sliding only slightly in the rear as we took a corner. Through slitted eyelashes, I noted the roads—mostly state highway, until we turned off onto a county road that I knew circumvented a series of spring-fed lakes reputed by area fishermen to be bottomless. Like most of the smaller lakes in this part of the state, these were circled by aging cabins and run-down trailers, the vacation homes of the not-so-rich-and-famous, but my heart didn’t exactly leap at the sight of civilization. These were summer places. The roads back around these lakes closed at first snow and didn’t reopen until spring thaw, and most of the places were abandoned long before then. We weren’t about to be overrun with potential witnesses for the defense or the prosecution.

  My plan, if you could call it that, was to run. I was no match for the doctor’s superior weight and strength, but what I did have on my side was the element of surprise. I’d stayed deathly still for the entire ri
de, allowing my head to bob with the motion of the vehicle along the rutted and snowy roads. Phillips was expecting a limp body for whatever end he had planned. What he was going to get was anything but.

  It wasn’t much of a plan, granted, but it was the best I had at present.

  My heart began to race as I recognized the slowing of the vehicle. I opened my eyes as far as I dared and tried to get my bearings, but it was too dark to see much at all. At least the snow had slowed, and overhead the thick storm clouds had grown fitful and lacy, exposing a scrap of moon from time to time. The lake was a small one, from the looks of it, but I didn’t see even a hint of light coming from the small domiciles surrounding it.

  Phillips stopped the SUV and set the emergency break. I could hear him rustling around in the front seat, so as quietly as I could, I tried the door. The latch didn’t budge, even though the locks weren’t set.

  Damned childproof doors.

  He got out of the SUV, but left it running, thank you, God. I forced my panic down to a usable level and closed my hands over the armrest on my door. One . . . two . . . three . . . As soon as he put his hand on the latch, I shoved with all my might, ignoring the searing pain that ripped through my right shoulder. Phillips went over like a barrel of monkeys. I leapt from the SUV and slammed the door, immediately going for the driver’s side latch. Hope surged within me as my hand closed on the cold metal. I was going to make it. I—

  Had miscalculated.

  Chapter 20

  Phillips’s arm came around my neck and dragged me backward down the steeply pitched boat launch. A scream ripped from my throat, aided along by the liquid fire rippling and pulsing outward from my shoulder. He clamped his other hand over my mouth and nose, hard enough to hamper my breathing. I tore at his arm and his hand, at anything I could reach, but came away with little more than a bit of skin and a renewed effort on his part. My world was going a little hazy. The more I kicked and yanked, the more oxygen I consumed, until I thought my head was going to explode with the effort. His grip relaxed slightly when his feet slithered beneath him.