Beauty to Die For

by Kim Alexis

  Was she safe here?

  If so, then why did she feel like a sitting duck?

  Pressing the lock button again just to be sure, she swallowed hard and stared out at the darkness. She thought of the familiar car they had just passed, the one with the Palm Grotto window sticker. It was a Range Rover. A metallic red Range Rover.

  Then she remembered. Reggie. That’s whose it was. Reggie Roberts drove a red Range Rover.

  And she sells seashells by the seashore.

  Crystal chuckled at her own joke, trying to settle her unease.

  It didn’t help matters that as her eyes adjusted to the lack of light, she began to make out the shape of a creepy-looking structure in the distance. Was that a house? If so, she felt sure that no one lived there—and hadn’t for a long time.

  MARCUS OPENED HIS EYES and found himself looking into the face of a woman he didn’t recognize. She had dark skin and long eyelashes, and she was moving her mouth as if she were talking.

  Except no sound was coming out.

  He tried to sit up but was knocked flat by a searing pain at his ribs.

  What was going on?

  The woman sat back as a man leaned in from the other side, but he, too, was flapping his jaws and making no sound. Blinking, Marcus looked around—and frowned. From the looks of things, he was inside an ambulance. These two were talking, machines were flashing, probably a siren was going. Yet everything was eerily quiet.

  No, not quiet exactly. There was a hum, or a buzz, some low kind of white noise. But nothing else at all. No voices. Nothing.

  At least he could see. And he could smell. Man, could he smell—an acrid, burning stench that turned his stomach.

  Marcus closed his eyes, remembering a light. A loud noise.

  What happened?

  Telling himself to stay calm, he kept his eyes closed and tried to focus on the gentle jostling of the vehicle as it rumbled toward its destination. After a few minutes spent just lying there, the noise in his head began to shift to a lower pitch, and he thought he could detect the sound of voices underneath. He was starting to hear.

  He was also starting to feel, unfortunately. The pain was mostly at his ribs, but he grew aware of a sharp throbbing in his left thigh too. Though his throat felt raw and parched, he once again opened his eyes and tried to speak.

  “What . . . happened?”

  The woman eyed him cautiously, her lips moving once more.

  “Louder, please,” he rasped. “My ears . . .”

  She leaned closer and tried again. “There was an explosion. You were blown back onto the ground and struck by debris.”

  He thought about that for a moment. “Was I alone?”

  The woman and the man exchanged glances. “No, you were with someone else.”

  Marcus closed his eyes and thought about that. Agent Wilson. Of the FBI. The two of them had gone somewhere together . . .

  To meet with Ty Kirkland.

  It had been a trick. A setup.

  Marcus’s eyes flew open. Juliette. Where was Juliette? Could Ty have somehow tricked her too?

  Heart pounding, he patted at his pockets. “My phone. Please. Do you see it?”

  The two attendants checked, but to no avail.

  “Nope, sorry.” The woman shrugged. “You must have dropped it in the explosion.”

  She turned away, studying something on one of the machines, but he managed to raise a shaky hand and place it on her arm.

  “Please,” he urged. “I have to reach Juliette Taylor. I have to warn her before it’s too late.”

  JULIETTE DIDN'T KNOW HOW far they had fallen. She didn’t understand what they had fallen into. All she knew was that every inch of her body hurt.

  At least she was alive.

  She looked around, realizing with a start that Didi was lying next to her, face down, her eyes closed.

  “Didi!” Without thought of her own pain, Juliette sat up and began shaking her friend by the shoulders. “Wake up! Didi, wake up!”

  With a groan, the woman finally opened one eye.

  Juliette bent closer, frantic. “Are you okay? Where does it hurt?”

  It took a long moment and then Didi murmured, “The pinkie toe on my left foot.”

  “What do you mean?” Juliette jerked around to take a look. “What about it?”

  “That’s the only thing that doesn’t hurt.”

  A joke. Didi was making a joke. That meant she might be okay.

  Juliette sat back and forced herself to breathe. In. Out. In. Out. She checked Didi over with care then worked her hands along her own body, feeling for seeping blood or broken bones. She felt neither. She remembered hitting feet first, then falling backward. And though her tailbone ached and her lower legs still throbbed from the impact, she knew something must have broken her fall. Looking down, she saw that they were on a pile of brush and sticks and palm fronds. Looking up, all she could see was a circle of blue starry sky, framed by white stone walls.

  Where were they? What happened?

  She called out for help, but there was no answer. She realized there was no sign of Greg at all—at least not that she could see.

  “Greg? Where are you?”

  Nothing—yet he’d been right behind her. She assumed he’d fallen in too.

  If he had, though, where was he?

  For that matter, if he hadn’t, where was he?

  She took in a breath and yelled again, as loud as she could this time. “Greg!” Nothing. “Help! Help!” Nothing.

  If only it weren’t so dark!

  Willing her eyes to adjust, Juliette rose to her knees with a groan and tried to study their surroundings, but it was hard to see very far. She did spot her cell phone on the ground nearby and eagerly grabbed it—only to realize that the screen was shattered. She tried turning it on anyway, but it was no use.

  She instructed Didi to check hers and felt a surge of hope when her friend pulled it out and announced that the screen was still intact. Those hopes were dashed, however, when she reported that hers had also broken in the fall.

  “Let me try.” Juliette took the phone from her and fooled with it, but no matter what she did, she couldn’t get it to come to life.

  As she handed the dead phone back to Didi, she saw that her friend had rolled up one pants leg and was examining her ankle—which was unmistakably bruised and swollen.

  “Guess Wimbledon’s out now,” Didi quipped.

  “Ha ha.” Juliette met her friend’s eyes, wincing to see a streak of blood along the side of her face. “Your cheek is cut too. Or maybe just scratched. Hard to tell.”

  “Oh, great. Now I’ll never get another Vogue cover either.”

  Juliette managed half a smile. Needing to do something, she tried again to look around, hoping her eyes had adjusted more to the darkness. Sure enough, from where she was sitting, she could tell that they were in some sort of pit. It was about fifteen feet across and perhaps eighteen feet or so deep. Judging by the rubble around them, she realized what must have happened. They had walked out onto a “false ground” of sticks and leaves and then fallen through.

  Into a trap.

  She thought of that old movie, Swiss Family Robinson. Just like the boy caught a tiger in the movie, someone had caught them here by luring them onto what looked like a floor but was actually a ceiling. A fragile ceiling, at that.

  At least they both seemed okay except for Didi’s ankle and Juliette’s aching lower back. She decided to try and stand, but as she did, she was startled to feel the ground underneath her begin to shift.

  She screamed and jumped away, her mind going to snakes or rodents—or even, absurdly, a tiger. But when she turned back to look, she realized what had broken their fall.

  A person. A man. There was a man underneath the debris.

  Was it Greg? Because he was heavier, had he landed first and then they’d crashed down on top of him?

  Frantic, she and Didi pushed away the wide leaves that were covering his face and
body, praying he would be okay.

  MORE BORED THAN EVER, Crystal was elaborating on her new tongue twister—Reggie and Rhonda Roberts ride regularly in a ruby red Range Rover—when she was startled by sudden movement up ahead. With a gasp, she sat up straight and tried to find the switch for the headlights.

  Was that Greg? Reggie? Someone else?

  She couldn’t tell, but whoever it was, he seemed to be weaving, like he was tired, or maybe even injured. Squinting, she watched as he paused and bent over, hands on his knees, catching his breath. Finally, she found the button and twisted it, flooding the scene with light. It was Greg.

  Thank goodness.

  Crystal jumped from the car and ran to him, surprised to see that somehow he’d gotten all sweaty and dirty since leaving just minutes before. “Are you okay? What happened?”

  “I slipped and almost fell in a hole.”

  “A hole?”

  “Yeah, like a pit. At least I was able to hang on and then climb out. I’ll be okay.” Standing up straight, Greg began to brush straw and other detritus from his clothes. “It’s an old Cahuilla Indian well, one that should’ve been filled in and covered up years ago.”

  “That’s dangerous! We need to warn the others.”

  “Good idea.” Greg finished brushing himself off then met Crystal’s eyes, an odd expression on his face.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” She reached up to flick a piece of straw from his hair.

  He shrugged, thrusting his hands in his pockets. “I guess. There’s just been a lot going on tonight. It’s a little overwhelming.”

  She nodded, eager to hear all about it. “Why don’t we talk as we walk? Just let me close up the car.”

  She ran back over to it, twisted off the lights, locked and closed the door. As she did, she heard a rhythmic thunk coming from somewhere nearby. Startled, she twisted around, wondering what it was, hoping it was something benign, like a woodpecker or a beaver. Well, she amended as she started toward Greg, not likely a beaver here in the desert, but some kind of mammal with a tail that could make a thunking sound.

  Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

  “What is that?” She dashed the rest of the way to Greg’s side, hoping he’d put his arms around her. The noise was so near—and so unsettling. Somewhere in the distance, from the other direction, she heard a bird call that gave her the shivers, its sound mimicking a woman’s cry for “Help! Help!”

  “I don’t like this,” Crystal said, taking Greg’s arm and holding on tight. “And that thing doesn’t help.” She pointed toward the building she had spotted from the car.

  “Why? It’s just an old, abandoned house.”

  “I guess. But the desert is so creepy at night. Aren’t you scared?”

  He looked at her, but his eyes were distant. “Nah. I grew up here, remember?”

  She nodded, wishing they would hurry and join the others. Ordinarily she would’ve loved being alone under the moonlight with Greg Overstreet. But something about this situation had her feeling edgy, every hair standing on end.

  “Yeah, well, let’s go,” she said, giving his arm a tug. “You said you had something important to tell me. What is it? I’m dying to know.”

  He neither responded nor moved, so finally she looked up at him, surprised to see the myriad of emotions flooding his face. Sadness. Regret. Pain. Anguish, even.

  “Greg?”

  He was acting so weird. So not himself.

  Her eyes narrowed. “Hey, no offense, but you didn’t by any chance hit your head when you fell, did you?”

  As if returning from some faraway place, he finally met her gaze. “No, I didn’t hit my head.”

  “Are you sure? Because you seem—”

  “Can I ask you something, Crystal?”

  She blinked. “Of course.”

  His eyes radiated sadness. “Why did you come here tonight? The text asked for Juliette and Didi only, not you. Never you.”

  Crystal took a step back, offended. “It’s a free country.” Hearing the sharpness in her tone, she sucked in a breath, blew it out, tried again. “I’ve been so involved with this case, when I heard it had been solved, I wanted to come along and see what was going on firsthand. Why is that a problem?”

  In the distance another bird called for “Help! Help!” Behind them, the animal’s odd “Thunk, thunk, thunk.” It sounded like it was coming from the other vehicle. Greg’s vehicle.

  Crystal swallowed hard, forced herself to meet Greg’s eyes. Something was really wrong here.

  Something was wrong with Greg.

  “Listen, why don’t we join the others?” she suggested, her voice ringing hollow in her ears.

  “You want to join them?” He trained his gaze directly on her. “You really want to join them?”

  As he gazed at her, the sadness on his face slowly contorted into rage.

  She took another step back. “Maybe not?” she whispered.

  “Too late. Let’s go.” Springing into action, Greg grabbed Crystal by the wrist and began dragging her away from the road, along the same path he’d led Juliette and Didi a short while before.

  He moved fast, too fast.

  Crystal asked him to slow down, but it was like he didn’t hear. She stumbled on a loose rock, but his grip on her wrist was so strong that he kept her upright, kept her moving.

  She looked down at Greg’s hand, at the way his fingers dug into her skin. She looked at his face, the way his jaw was set so firm.

  Unable to stop herself, a whimper gurgled from her throat.

  At the sound, he turned to look, mouth curling into a snarl even as his eyes filled with tears. “You left me no choice!”

  He tightened his grip, kept going, his expression wild.

  She tumbled along next to him, understanding at last. She’d been so nervous, so afraid of the animals she heard rustling around in the dark. But now she knew. The biggest threat wasn’t out there in the dark.

  It was right here. On two legs.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  MUCH TO JULIETTE'S SURPRISE, once they had the man uncovered, they saw it wasn’t Greg at all.

  It was Reggie Roberts.

  And though he was mumbling and semi-conscious, at least he was still alive.

  Didi checked his pulse while Juliette looked for injuries. No blood, no oddly-twisted limbs. Nothing.

  “His heart’s really racing.” Didi placed a hand on his glistening forehead. “He’s burning up, too.”

  They shook him and called out his name until, finally, he opened his eyes—and even as dark as it was, Juliette could see that his pupils were fully dilated.

  Atropine.

  He’d been drugged.

  Swallowing hard, she met Didi’s gaze and said the words that filled her brain with such clarity now she couldn’t believe she hadn’t acknowledged it before. “Greg did this.”

  Didi blinked. “What?”

  Juliette got up, walked the span of the pit as she scanned the debris on the floor. No question, they were alone, just the three of them. Greg was nowhere to be found.

  Worse, she realized now, the reason she’d heard Marcus’s phone ringing behind her earlier, just before they’d fallen, was because Greg had it. Somehow Greg had gotten hold of Marcus’s cell phone and used it to lure them there.

  She shook her head, trying not to think about the implications of that—especially where Marcus was now, and what Greg had done to get his phone.

  Please, Lord, keep Marcus safe!

  She looked at Didi. “Greg did this to Reggie, to us. He led us right to this pit and made sure we fell in. He probably intends to kill us.”

  GREG DRAGGED CRYSTAL ALL the way to a giant boulder, finally coming to a stop beside it. The huge stone had to be at least eight feet high, maybe ten feet wide. She shuddered. What was he going to do to her?

  “Greg, please.” The words came out on a whimper as she tried to pull her arm from his grasp. “I don’t understand. What happened? Why are you so upset?�
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  He didn’t answer. Instead he just stood there for a long moment, lost in thought. Then, as if he had come to some sort of a decision, he focused in on Crystal.

  “You know that old house back there?” he asked in a soft voice.

  “Yeah?”

  “That used to be my house. The one I grew up in.”

  She blinked, gaping at him.

  Nodding, he gestured around with a sweep of his arm. “This was all ours, from Bismark Lane to South Springs Road, eighty-two acres of torture. It was worthless, nothing but desert, but it was home.”

  Crystal studied Greg’s face, trying to understand what was going on. This was where he grew up? Here?

  Why was he telling her this, and what did it have to do with anything else that was going on tonight?

  He continued, his eyes distant and sad. “The place has been abandoned for years. Not just the house, we had other buildings too, at the back side of the property. An old barn. A shed. Well, at least there used to be a shed.” He paused, shook his head. Met her gaze. “But this is where she died. Right about there.” He shone the beam onto the ground not too far away.

  Crystal looked where he indicated, as if she expected to find a dead body still there. “Who, Valentine?”

  Greg frowned. “No. Of course not. Our mother.”

  Crystal’s head jerked back. His mother was dead? Why hadn’t he told her that before? “What happened to her?”

  “It was all a terrible accident. She was home alone one morning, out back here, when she slipped and fell into that same old Indian well I almost went into tonight.”

  Crystal gasped. “She died from a fall?”

  He shook his head. “The fall broke her leg. But then she was down in that well for hours. In pain. Overheated. Dehydrated.”

  “And that’s what killed her?”

  Again he shook his head. “Eventually, despite all of that, she managed to drag herself back up to the top. She tried to crawl to the house. But on the way there, she ran into a rattlesnake. They’re common out here, you know. With her injury, she couldn’t back off fast enough, so it struck.”

  Crystal’s hand flew to her mouth.

  He nodded. “The tragedy is, she didn’t have to die. Rattlesnake bites aren’t fun, but they aren’t usually fatal. She just needed help. Water, medical attention, whatever. But no one answered her desperate pleas. She ended up dying right there in the dust.”