“All right,” Rainie agreed.
“I love you.”
The tears spilled out onto Rainie’s cheeks. “I love you, too, Parker. You’ll never know just how much.”
“Call me once you’re safely inside the house. Don’t forget, or I’ll get a speedin’ ticket tryin’ to get there.”
“All right,” Rainie agreed.
After Parker broke the connection, Peter jerked hard on Rainie’s hair again. “Home, sweet home.”
She stared through the sun-streaked windshield at her front door. Home, Peter called it, but he was so very wrong about that. The word no longer conjured images of a place in her mind. Her true home, her only home now, was in the circle of Parker’s arms. She loved him so much. They had their whole lives left to live. She couldn’t allow Peter to rob her of that.
Grabbing frantically for composure, she said, “If you keep that knife at my throat as we walk to the porch, one of my neighbors may notice and call the cops.”
“I’ll take my chances.” He threw open the rear door. “One wrong move, and I’ll slit your jugular and leave you to drown in your own blood. Got it?”
Chin lifted to an awkward angle to accommodate the knife blade, Rainie collected her purse, the phone, and her keys, and then opened her own door to carefully exit the car, her body poised for action the moment he lowered the weapon. Only instead he reached over the rear door to shift the knife into his left hand before she fully gained her feet. Pushing her ahead of him, he kicked both doors closed. Rainie felt like a bit of flotsam carried forth on a wave as they crossed the yard to her front steps.
When they reached the door, he produced a key. Rainie stared stupidly at his gloved hand as he disengaged the lock and then toed the portal open. As they moved inside, he kept the knife at her throat as he reached back to close the door and refasten the dead bolt.
“Where did you get that key?”
He laughed softly. “I jimmied open a window yesterday and found your extra keys hanging by the kitchen door. Car key, house key.” He clicked his tongue. “Not smart, Lorraina. It’s always a good idea to hide your spare keys so intruders aren’t likely to find them.”
Rainie’s back was pressed against his chest. His closeness made her skin crawl.
“But, then, all of you are dumber than ropes. Did lover boy and his family honestly think I wouldn’t watch you for several days before making a move? Dumb fucks, all of them, taking turns and tailing you in their respective vehicles, hoping I wouldn’t catch on. News flash: I not only caught on but figured out their schedule.”
“You disabled Clint’s truck somehow, didn’t you?” It wasn’t really a question. Rainie had always known that Peter was as intelligent as he was cruel. “How’d you pull that off? The perimeter of Clint’s ranch is under electronic surveillance.”
“True, but he drives into town almost every day. That’s why I chose to make my move when I knew he’d be the one following you. He went to a ranch supply store yesterday. While he was inside, I picked the lock on his diesel tank and shoved a satchel of dirt inside. A special satchel, of course, made of material that takes a while to dissolve in diesel. After sitting in the fuel for so many hours, it was badly compromised. Then he jiggled it up good on that rough road leading from his ranch to the highway, which finished the job. The dirt got loose in the tank and started clogging up the fuel filter. Bingo. His truck broke down after he drove only a few miles.” He bent his head to breathe heavily in her ear. “Time to call lover boy back and tell him you’re safe and sound inside the house with all the doors locked.”
Rainie had hoped Peter might forget Parker’s request for a return call. She flipped open the cell phone. Parker answered on the second ring. “Inside and locked up tight?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Good. I’ll be there in about forty minutes. Quick shower, and I’m out of here. I can’t wait to see you in that tutu.”
“See you.” Rainie ended the call without telling him that she loved him, something she never did. She could only hope that struck him as strange. “So now what’s the plan?” she asked Peter. “Am I going to be murdered by a burglar? Fall and break my neck? The suspense is killing me.”
“Nothing so predictable as that,” he whispered. “Poor Lorraina, so stressed out over the divorce that you saw a doctor and got something to help you sleep.”
He’d been in her medicine cabinet? “I’m not following.”
“Of course you’re not, darling. You have a brain the size of a pea. So to satisfy your curiosity, I’ll summarize my plan for you. As I’m sure you’ll agree, it is sheer genius.”
He shoved her ahead of him into the kitchen. “You’ve come home from a trying day at work. You’re depressed. You’re exhausted from not sleeping well. Having a nice soak in the tub and going to bed early sounds good, so you take a couple of sleeping pills, light some candles, and slip into a bubble bath to enjoy a couple of glasses of wine.”
“Wrong. The prescription is for Ambien. It says right on the bottle not to take it with alcohol, and I have a romantic evening planned with my fiancé.”
“I know, I know,” he crooned. “But you must not have read the warning label. Lots of people don’t. So you are going to mix the sleeping pills with alcohol, darling. Then you’ll get in the tub, drink a bunch of wine, and get ever so sleepy. Sadly, the combination of the drug and the wine will make you lose consciousness, and you’ll slip under the water.”
“What about the romantic evening?”
“Quarrel, perhaps, or simple emotional instability. You were going to make fudge and changed your mind. You were going to be a witch and changed your mind. Flighty Lorraina, always changing her mind.”
Rainie saw a bottle of cheap pink wine on the counter by the sink, already opened to breathe. She still drank boxed wine because it was less expensive. Parker knew that. Bad mistake, Peter. Only even as the thought sank into her brain, she wondered if Parker would remember her wine preferences. A single goblet and the container of Ambien had been placed beside the bottle.
“It’ll be a lovely way to go,” Peter whispered. “In a nice, warm bath—growing drowsy. We’ll chat while you fall asleep, do a little catching up. When you’re out, I’ll help you slip under the water. Chances are you’ll never even wake up, sweetness. Your farm-boy lover will be the one to discover your body. So romantic and heart-wrenching, don’t you think? Candles, wine, and tragedy.”
“You’ll never get away with it. Parker will know. I hate taking pills, and I’d never mix them with wine. Besides, we have plans for this evening. He’ll know I would never have doped myself up on sleeping pills.”
“Maybe, maybe,” he said in a singsong voice. “But there’ll be no evidence of foul play, no sign of an intruder. Even if he yells to high heaven that something’s not right, the cops won’t listen. You don’t really believe that I haven’t planned every detail of this, do you?” He clucked his tongue again. “There’ll be no trace of my DNA in your car or house, and as I’m sure you’ve noticed, I’m wearing gloves to avoid leaving fingerprints. They’ll do an autopsy, of course, but all they’ll learn is that you mixed sleeping pills with alcohol. They’ll assume that you accidentally drowned in the tub. There will be nothing to tie me to your death. Nothing. Another perfect murder. It’s my specialty.”
Anger roiled within her. “Wrong. You won’t walk away with any money this time.”
“Won’t I?” He laughed softly. “Your parents are dead. You have no siblings, no children, no extended family, and no will. After your tragic death, I’ll have my attorney petition for a reversal of the divorce-court ruling. You don’t even have any of my assets in your possession yet. Possession is nine-tenths of the law. It may take a few months to iron out all the unfortunate wrinkles, but eventually your half of everything will revert back to me. There’s no one else to inherit. I’ll buy roses for your grave, darling, and toast your memory with a bottle of obscenely expensive wine.”
R
ainie barely heard him. She was staring at the bottle of pills. The Ambien was fast-acting, effective in about fifteen minutes. With the added effect of wine, the pills might kick in even faster. Her limbs went cold with dread. Parker was grabbing a shower before he left. He’d never get here in time to save her. She was on her own.
“You can’t force me to swallow pills.”
Peter pressed the knife more firmly against her throat. “In that case, I’ll move on to plan B and just kill you the grisly way. Afterward, I’ll kick in the back door, tear up the house, steal anything that’s worth stealing, and take your purse as I leave. It won’t be as neat, but I’ll still manage to pull it off.” He leaned down to smile at her. When Rainie looked into his eyes, all she saw was pure evil. “Have you ever seen someone get their throat cut, darling? It’s not a fun way to die. You spew red bubbles out the hole like a whale and choke to death on your own blood. It takes several very long seconds before your oxygen-starved brain blinks out. Do you know how long a second seems when you can’t breathe? It’s a slow, horrible way to die. Wouldn’t you rather just go to sleep?”
Rainie preferred to buy herself some time by taking the damned pills and drinking the wine. Fifteen minutes. If God was up there, pulling for her, maybe she would get an opening to hit Peter or kick him.
He laughed near her ear. “I knew you’d see reason. Pour yourself some wine, my sweet, and wash down three pills. I’d make you take the whole damned bottle, but that might arouse suspicion. Then we’ll mosey our way to the bathroom. Your bath is already drawn, waiting for you. You can have a couple more goblets of wine while you’re soaking. I hate to rush you, but I do have places to go and people to see.”
With shaking hands, Rainie filled the goblet and then picked up the prescription bottle, twisted off the cap, and tapped out three small tablets onto her palm. After tossing them into her mouth, she tongued them over her lower molars to rest inside her cheek. She knew they would start to dissolve soon, especially when she drank the wine. But she might delay the efficacy of the pills by a few minutes if she didn’t swallow them immediately. Anything to buy herself extra seconds. Sooner or later, he would relax his guard and lower the knife. He had to. Otherwise, she was going to die.
He kept the knife at her throat as she lifted the goblet. The taste of the dissolving tablets was so horrible that she almost gagged.
“Drink, drink, drink,” he urged kindly. “Be my good girl.”
Be my good girl. Revulsion made her stomach turn. During their marriage, that had been one of his favorite phrases—as if it had somehow prettied up the reality of what he forced her to do. During those interludes, she’d wanted to die more times than she could count. Now she was about to get her wish.
Thinking of Rainie and the coming evening, Parker soaped up and stepped under the spray of water to rinse. He was scrubbing his neck when he suddenly remembered something Rainie had recently said to him. Halloween just isn’t Halloween without cookies decorated like pumpkins. He froze with the washcloth at his nape. If she felt that way, why the hell had she suddenly decided to make fudge instead? A cold sensation moved up Parker’s spine. Cider instead of mulled wine. A tutu instead of a witch costume. No saying she loved him before ending the call. Shit.
Parker slapped off the water faucet without bothering to rinse. Dripping wet, he ran to the phone beside his bed and speed-dialed Rainie. Shit, oh, shit. Something was wrong. She’d tried to tell him. Jesus, sweet Jesus. Let her be okay. She has to be okay.
Rainie had just gulped down the first glass of wine when her cell phone went off in her purse. “The Way We Were.” It was Parker calling her again. She met Peter’s gaze.
“Answer, darling. Put lover boy on speaker, and mind every word you say.”
Rainie reached for her purse and dragged it across the counter toward her. She fished inside for her phone. “Hello?”
Parker sounded out of breath. “Hi, sweetheart. Sorry for buggin’ you, but I can barely wait to get there and just wanted to hear your voice.”
“It’s good to hear yours, too,” Rainie replied.
“I’ve been thinkin’ about tonight. Once the kids stop comin’, are you up for some stargazin’? We’ll snuggle up in a blanket and get tipsy. I’ll bore you with the story about my mother’s star again and see if you can find it without me helpin’ you.”
Rainie’s throat tightened. This was her opening to let Parker know something was wrong. But what if Peter caught on again? “That’s a challenge I’ll gladly accept. You want to make it more interesting by putting some money on it? Venus is pretty easy to spot.”
Much to Rainie’s relief, Parker never missed a beat and didn’t reveal, even by an inflection of his voice, that she’d named the wrong star. “I’ve got ten that says you won’t be able to find it.”
“You’re on.”
“I’ve still got to shower. I’ll see you in about forty minutes. Okay?”
“Can’t wait.”
“See you,” he said softly, and then broke the connection.
Rainie’s hands shook as she closed her phone. He knew. Parker never ended a conversation without saying he loved her.
Still dripping wet and buck naked, Parker immediately called the cops. The dispatcher who answered was female. Parker quickly related his suspicions to her, namely that Peter Danning had finally made his move and Rainie was in terrible danger.
“What makes you think that, Mr. Harrigan?” the dispatcher asked.
Parker felt like an idiot as he stated his reasons—that his brother’s truck had broken down, that Rainie was making fudge instead of Halloween cookies, cider instead of mulled wine, and that she’d suddenly changed her mind about dressing as a witch. “And just now when I talked to her, she referred to Venus as bein’ my mother’s star when she knows damned well it’s Polaris.”
Apparently the dispatcher thought his reasons sounded idiotic, too, because she said, “People change their minds and forget things sometimes. Did she specifically say that something is wrong?”
Parker’s temper snapped. “Listen, lady. I’m not gonna waste precious time discussin’ this with you. Get a car over to her place, now, or I swear to God, I’ll have your job. You readin’ me loud and clear?” He gave the woman Rainie’s address. “The bastard will kill her. She needs help. See that she gets it!”
Parker hung up and grabbed his soiled clothes, which he’d dropped on the floor only minutes ago. Soap. He’d never gotten rinsed off completely. His jeans snagged on his wet legs. He hurriedly dragged on the shirt and stuffed his bare feet into his boots. Then he bolted from the house and ran to his truck.
Peter poured Rainie a second glass of wine and made her drink that as well. Then, still holding the knife at her throat, he made her grab the bottle and forced her ahead of him to the bathroom. True to his word, the bath was already drawn, the top layer of bubbles mostly evaporated. Along the edge of the tub, three lit candles sat like miniature sentinels.
“Strip,” he ordered. “Everything off. I promise not to look.” His voice rang with sarcasm.
Rainie bent her knees to set the bottle of wine and empty goblet on the tile surface that enclosed the tub. Then, feeling oddly numb, she kicked off her boots and began unbuttoning her blouse. If only she’d worn a pullover top, she might have gotten the knife away from her throat for an instant. But no. Her blouse and bra came off easily while he held the weapon firmly beneath her chin. She toed off her boots and socks. Her filmy skirt and panties fell to the floor without a hitch once she’d worked them down past her hips.
Naked. Her skin burned with humiliation. She’d thought never to let this man look at her body again. She stepped into the water. It had grown cool, and she shivered as it licked around her lower calves. He stayed with her, the blade ever at her throat as she sank to her knees and twisted to sit down.
She wasn’t feeling the effects of the drug yet. As he sloshed more wine into the goblet, she sank as deeply into the water as she could to conceal
her body from his gaze. He smiled that horrible smile she remembered so well.
“Feeling shy, Lorraina?”
“Sleepy. The pills work fast.” In truth, half of them were still in her cheek, gooey and dissolved to paste, but they weren’t all down the hatch yet. Be smarter than he is. Outwit him. She let her eyelashes droop, then pretended to struggle back to alertness. “How will you explain being bald?” she asked with a fake yawn. “Surely people at work will notice that and ask questions. You don’t even have any eyebrows.”
“Emotional breakdown.” Hunkered down and bent forward to keep the knife under her chin, he pulled a sad face. “My wife left me. I was suspected of killing her aboard a cruise ship. The police and reporters gave me no peace. I’ve been seeing a psychiatrist, taking medication for depression. Suddenly my hair started to fall out. Terrible thing.” He shrugged and winked at her. “The hair-removal products that are on the market now are fabulous. I dabbed it on in little spots at first so my hair appeared to be falling out in patches. My doctor assured me that emotional trauma can do strange things and that my hair will grow back once my life settles down.” He glanced at his watch. “I have a feeling it’s going to smooth out drastically in only a few more minutes. How are you feeling, darling?”
Rainie fluttered her eyelashes again and let her head nod. Then she jerked it erect. “I’m fine. I told you this wouldn’t work.” She slurred her words slightly. Her heart was pounding. If she pretended to fall asleep too fast, he would get suspicious. But if she waited too long, she might fall asleep for real. Parker was on his way. He’d probably called the police as well. Unfortunately it took only a few seconds to drown. “I still feel wide awake.”
He shoved the full wineglass under her nose. “Drink it straight down.”
“I can’t hold another one.”
“You’ll find a way. The alternative is so ugly. Cutting your throat in the bathtub would be tidier, though. No blood and gore all over the floor. It’s your choice.”
Star Bright Page 38