“But you’re not dead, and you killed her.”
“And who are the assholes looking for over it? Jimmy. I’m in the clear. I’m going to stay in the clear. And when I pick up what’s mine Monday morning, I’ll be in the clear with millions. Long-range plans, Shelby, take a lot of patience. This one cost me a little more than a year for each five million. That’s a damn good deal in the world of big pictures. Pull up right beside that truck.”
“Who else is here?”
“Nobody now.”
“My God, Richard, whose place is this? Who did you kill?”
“An old friend. Turn off the car, hand me the keys.” Once again, he jabbed with the barrel of the gun. “You’re going to sit where you are until I come around for you. Try anything—anything—I’ll put a bullet in you. Then I’ll go get Callie. I know people who’d pay a premium for a pretty girl her age.”
She hadn’t known he could sicken her even more. “She’s your child. She’s your blood.”
“Do you actually think I care?”
“No.” Her hand was back in her pocket, frantically tapping. “I don’t think you care about anything or anyone. And there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to keep Callie safe.”
“Then what’s left of the weekend should be easy on both of us.”
She considered locking the doors when he got out, just to give herself more time to send the next message. But it would only spike his temper. It had to be better to make him believe she was utterly helpless.
It wasn’t too far from the truth.
When he came around, opened her door, she got out compliantly.
“Here’s our little home away from home.” He used a penlight to shine a thin beam, showing the way to a small cabin, roughly built.
Her shoes crunched on the short gravel walk leading to a sagging front porch. A couple of old chairs, a rickety table. Nothing she could see that could be used as a weapon.
He dropped the penlight back in his pocket, handed her a key.
“Unlock the door.”
She did what she was told, and at the prod of the gun, stepped off the dark porch into the dark cabin. She jolted when he turned on the light—couldn’t help herself. It came yellow and dull from the globes on a wagon wheel dropped from the pitched ceiling.
“I call it the Hickville Dump. It’s not much, but it’s ours. Sit down.”
When she didn’t move fast enough he shoved her toward a chair of red-and-green plaid. She caught herself, turned to sit, and saw the blood on the floor, smears of it leading to a closed door.
“Yeah, you’re going to clean that up, then I’ve got a shovel with your name on it. You’re going to bury Jimmy, save me the sweat.”
“All of this for money?”
“It’s always the money.” The excitement, the light that had first drawn her to him, beamed out. But she saw it now for what it was. Hard and false.
“It’s always the money,” he repeated, “but it’s the ride, too. It’s knowing you’re the smartest one in the room, no matter what fucking room. It’s knowing if you want it, you can take it.”
“Even if it belongs to someone else.”
“Especially, you moron, if it belongs to someone else. That’s the ride. I’m going to grab a beer.” He sent her a wide smile “Get you something, honey?”
He backed into the tiny open kitchen when she said nothing.
So sure she was paralyzed, she thought, he didn’t even bother to restrain her. She kept her hands clenched together in her lap, the knuckles white. But it was as much a rising fury as fear now.
The lamp, she thought, the one on the table with the black bear hunched by the trunk of a tree. It might be heavy enough if she could get her hands on it.
There’d be knives in the kitchen.
She imagined the Winchester rifle over the fireplace was unloaded. But maybe not.
And there was an engraved plate on the stock that read “William C. Bounty.”
She relaxed her fingers, started to slide her hand toward her pocket, let it lie still again when Richard walked back, sat across from her.
“Isn’t this cozy?”
“How did you do it? How did you survive the boating accident?”
“Surviving’s what I do. Melinda was getting out. I didn’t count on Jimmy busting out, complicated things a bit. I didn’t think he had that in him. But Melinda, I knew she’d be a problem. She always was a dog with a bone, just never let go, so she’d need to be dealt with before I cashed in.”
He settled back, obviously relaxed. “I always figured on the five years—and it was close enough. So . . . a little vacation with the fam, tragedy strikes, and I’d be off the grid again.”
“We’d have been with you if Callie hadn’t gotten sick.” When his eyes gleamed, understanding struck her with true horror. “You were going to kill us. You were going to kill your own baby.”
“Young family’s holiday vacation ends in tragedy. It happens.”
“You couldn’t have gotten away with it. If the authorities hadn’t hunted you down, my family would have.”
“Not if I died trying to save you. It should’ve played out that way. I’d have spent a couple days painting us as a happy little family—people tend to believe what they see. Good-looking couple, pretty little girl. Then we’d make a day of it on the boat. Go out far enough, get some wine in you, wait until dusk.”
He took a slow sip of beer, smiled at her. “I toss the kid over, and it’s easy money you’d go right over after her. I wouldn’t have to put a mark on either one of you.”
“You’re a monster.”
“I’m a winner. I’d scuttle the boat, get my scuba gear. With my new ID and a change of clothes in a waterproof pouch, I’d have made it to Hilton Head in a few hours. Which is what I did—without you along.”
“The squall.”
“Unexpected bonus.”
“You could’ve died out there. Why risk dying?”
“You don’t get it, never will.” He leaned toward her, that light glowing again. “That’s the point, that’s the rush. All I had to do was dump the tanks, catch a cab and pick up the car I had waiting in long-term parking at the airport. Drive to Savannah and my drop box there. Wouldn’t have needed that if I damn could have found the key for my box in Philly.”
He watched her while he took another sip of beer. “You got into that. Where was the key?”
“In the pocket of your leather jacket, the bronze one I gave you for your birthday two years back. It had gone through a little hole and into the lining of the jacket.”
“Well, son of a bitch.” He gave a half-laugh, shook his head as he might over a missed putt on the green. “That key would have saved me some time and trouble. Either way, I’m dead. The way it turned out, you got to play the grieving widow for a while. How did that suit you?”
“I wish it had been true.”
He laughed, toasted her with his beer. “Coming back to the boonies brought some of that sass back. Let’s see if a little housework knocks it back out of you.” He rose, went back in the kitchen.
When he picked up a bottle of bleach and a scrub brush, she got to her feet.
“You want me to clean up the blood?”
“You’re going to clean up the blood, unless you want to clean up your own along with it.”
“I can’t—”
He swung out with the back of his left hand, quick as a snake, striking her across the cheekbone hard enough to send her stumbling back and into the chair again.
She didn’t know why the blow shocked her, now that she knew him. Really knew him. But he’d never hit her before.
“God! I’ve wanted to do that for years!” The furious pleasure on his face iced her blood. He could, and would, do more than knock her down if she bucked him. Even as he stepped toward her, she hel
d up a trembling hand.
And again it was more rage than fear.
But she let only the fear show. “I just meant I need a bucket. I need a bucket of water and—and a mop. I can’t get it cleaned up with just the bleach and a brush. That’s all I meant. Please, don’t hurt me.”
“Why the fuck didn’t you say so?”
She let her head hang, and thinking of never seeing Callie again, her family, never seeing Griff, let tears come.
Let him see the tears, she thought, let him think that’s all that’s in me.
“You start sniveling, I’ll give you worse than a love tap. Go find a damn bucket. Make a move I don’t like, you will be mopping up your own blood.”
She went into the kitchen, scanning, scanning. No knife block, but surely there was a knife in a drawer. And there was a good cast iron skillet still on the stove, and a coffeepot. Filled with hot coffee that would make a weapon.
She looked under the sink, considered her options there, then in a skinny closet. There she found a broom, mop, bucket. Some old cord, some rusty chain, butane lighter fluid, bug spray.
She considered grabbing the bug spray, aiming for his eyes with that as the pepper spray was in the purse she’d left in her car. But he was nearly on top of her.
She took out the mop, the bucket, filled the bucket with hot soapy water.
She carted it over to the largest smear of blood.
“I need to use the bathroom.”
“Hold it,” he advised.
“I’ll do what you tell me to do. I just want to get through this, Richard, but I need to use the bathroom.”
He narrowed his eyes. She kept her gaze downcast, her shoulders slumped.
“Right there. Door stays open.”
“If you won’t give me privacy, at least don’t look at me.”
She walked to the tiny bathroom—razors maybe in the old medicine cabinet? A window too small for her to wiggle through if she had the chance.
She put the seat down on the toilet while he hovered in the doorway.
“Just don’t look at me!” She let out a choked sob. “The door’s open, you’re standing right there. I’m just asking you not to watch me. For God’s sake.”
He leaned against the jamb, cast his eyes up to the ceiling. “Awful dainty for someone one step up from an outhouse.”
She smothered her sensibilities, lifted her skirt, pulled down her panties. And shot her hand in her pocket.
Please God, if you’re listening, let this make sense. Let this go through.
When she was done, heat flushed her face.
“Jesus, look at you, sweaty, splotchy, your hair like something a rat wouldn’t nest in. I don’t know how I ever got it up with you.”
She dipped the mop in the bucket, wrung it out, began to wash up the blood.
“And what’s your pithy comeback? Hurt feelings.” He made crying noises. “God, you’re weak. You think that asshole you’re fucking now’s going to stick?”
“He loves me.” Saying it, knowing it, steadied her.
“Love? You’re a handy piece of ass. It’s all you ever were, all you’d ever be. A handy piece of ass who’ll splash around in some backwoods creek.”
She froze, and slowly lifted her gaze. “You spied on us, on me?”
“I could’ve taken you both out.” He lifted the gun, pointed it at her head. Said, “Pow, pow. But I wanted to lay it on Jimmy’s plate. A nice, tidy circle.”
“But you killed Jimmy.”
“Unavoidable alteration in plans. Don’t worry, I’ve got it covered. I always do. Put your back into it, Shelby.”
She went back to mopping, and began to make plans of her own.
• • •
GRIFF GOT HUNG UP talking construction with Derrick, lost track of some time. He had Shelby’s champagne, but he didn’t have Shelby. A glance around showed him Bitsy was back—a little damp-eyed as she danced with her future son-in-law.
Shelby was probably dealing with some other small crisis, he thought, but set out to look for her.
“Hey, Griff, hey!” Crystal came over, pointed at the glass of champagne. “Is that up for grabs?” She took it, drank deep. “I need it after drying Miz Bitsy up. She was watering like a leaky pipe.”
“Looks like you and Shelby got it done.”
“Oh, it was just me—that’s why I was looking for you, but I got waylaid a couple times. It’s a hell of a party! Shelby had to run home for a minute. Get Fifi for Callie. She should be back by now, I guess.”
“When did she go?”
“Oh, I don’t know exactly since I was dealing with the leaky pipe, then Miz Bitsy’s sister—they call her Sugar?—she came in so the two of them were leaking together. I guess it’s been about twenty minutes or so. She should be back or on her way.”
Maybe it was the dregs of all that had happened, but the dread just dropped over him like a shroud. He yanked out his phone, intended to call her, and it signaled an incoming text in his hand.
“It’s Shelby.”
“There you go.” Crystal patted his arm. “She’s just letting you know she’s on her way back, I expect. No call to look so worried, honey.”
But when he brought up the text the bottom dropped out of his world.
“Where’s Forrest?”
“Forrest? I just saw him over that-a-way flirting with a pretty blonde. I—”
But Griff was already moving, and fast. He cut across the dance floor, ignoring those who called out a greeting. He spotted Forrest, and what he felt must have showed on his face. After a casual glance in his direction, Forrest’s eyes went cold.
He turned away from the blonde without a word.
“What happened?”
“She’s in trouble.” Griff held out the phone.
richard live hs gun mking me drive black drango wst on bb rd ky license 529kpe
“Christ.”
“What’s BB Road?”
“Black Bear Road. Wait.” Forrest clamped a hand on Griff’s arm before his friend could take off. “You’re not going to find her driving hell-bent all over the hills.”
“I’m not going to find her standing here.”
“We’re not going to be. Nobby’s over by the bar there. Get him. I’m calling it in.”
“I’m going after her, Forrest.”
“Not saying different, but we’re going to go with the best chance of finding her. Get Nobby.”
They pulled Nobby outside, and Clay and Matt with them.
“We’re going to do this smart,” Forrest began. “Two men to a team. The sheriff’s putting more together right now. We’re going to blanket the area west of town. Odds are he’ll keep to the back roads. Clay, you look here.”
Clay clamped a hand on Forrest’s shoulder, leaned in to look at the map on his phone. “You and Nobby are going to cover this section here. You keep your eyes peeled for that vehicle, that license plate. Matt, you sure about this?”
“Hell yes.”
“I’m going to have you go into town, hook up with the sheriff, he’ll—”
“What’s going on here?” Viola stepped outside. “What’s happened? Where’s Shelby?”
Griff only waited a beat. “You’re wasting time figuring out what you should say or not, Pomeroy. Richard’s alive—I don’t know how—and he has her. We’re going after her.”
The color drained out of her face, made her eyes blaze like blue fire. “Boy, if you’re putting a posse together, your granddaddy and I are going to be part of it.”
“Granny—”
“Don’t Granny me,” she snapped at Forrest. “Who taught you to shoot?”
“I’m going now,” Griff said.
“Nobby, set it up from here, will you? Griff and I are going.”
“Callie,” Viola call
ed out.
“She’s fine, Griff checked, and we’ve got a man there sitting on the house right now.” Forrest kept going, opened the lockbox on the side of his truck, took out a Remington rimfire rifle, a box of ammo.
“I’ve seen you shoot so I know you can handle it.”
Target shooting was as far as Griff had gone, ever, but he didn’t argue.
Forrest got in the truck, took his favored Colt out of the glove box. “We’re going to get her back, Griff.”
“Not sitting here, we won’t.”
“I’m counting on you to keep a cool head.” Even as he spoke, Forrest punched the gas and they were flying. “We’re going to keep your phone open, in case she’s able to send you another message. Use mine to coordinate with the other teams as they come along. The sheriff’s already pulled in the federals. They got equipment we don’t run to in the Ridge, and better techs. Shelby keeps her head, keeps her phone on, they’re going to track it.”
“He had to be watching her, or be in the house when she went back.”
“We’ll find out when we get her back.”
“He’s going to be the one who killed the woman.”
Forrest’s face was stone as the speedometer inched higher. “I wouldn’t bet against it.”
“I saw him, I think. I got a bad feeling about the guy I saw—when I took Callie to the bookstore, then to the park. He played me.”
“Let’s worry about now.”
The now had fear tearing through his heart, his head, his belly. “He has to have somewhere to go. Shelby said he never did anything without a reason.”
“We’ll find him, and we’ll get her back. Safe.”
Before Griff could respond, his phone signaled. “It’s Shelby. Jesus, she’s got nerves of steel.” He struggled to read the jumbled text as they flew around switchbacks. “Old Hester Road, I think she means Hester.”
“I know where she means. It’s Odd Hester. Scatter of cabins and old campsites, deer stands up that way. Remote. You relay that, Griff, to Nobby, and he’ll take it from there.”
“What the hell does he want with her?”
“Whatever he wants, he’s not going to get it.”
Ice, sharp and jagged, poured in through the tearing fear. “How far away are we?”
The Liar Page 48