by Olga Bicos
How could a man be so unfortunate? How could life be this unfair?
He had no idea how long he knelt there beside her. The whole tragic chain of events seemed like a blur. The fight, the gun going off. A bad dream.
“That’s right. A dream. Wake up, baby.”
But even drunk, he knew. Nina was dead.
He tried to remember the details. The police would want to know everything. But he couldn’t get the information to stay put in his head. The images buzzed around, a jumble. Making sense of anything seemed just out of reach.
And the police…The thought panicked him. Could he really call them after all these years? Tell them the truth?
But what did he really have to hide? Was there anything left to save now? Did anything matter to him if Nina was dead?
Still, when he picked up the phone, it wasn’t the police he called. The machine picked up. He couldn’t imagine what to do. He didn’t have the cell phone number.
“Ryan?” Maybe he was there, screening his calls. Or he’d check his messages. God, the blood. He was covered in it.
“I’m in trouble, Ryan. Help me.”
Emma had come to believe she was cursed. It was simple, really. She’d been trying to avoid taking responsibility for the past, and the bad luck of it just followed her.
She’d come to think of Daniel as her own special curse, and the title had never fit better than when she found him sitting in the living room of her apartment, waiting for her to return from her morning coffee run.
“Daniel.” It shouldn’t have surprised her that he’d come; he had a key. So he’d shown up unexpectedly after a fight? Big deal.
Only, he was sitting on the couch, stiff and straight, and his eyes seemed lit up from the inside. He was opening and closing his hands into fists.
“You have to stop him,” he said. “Next time, he might kill her.”
Those had been her exact words when she’d called the police after she’d heard about Holly’s accident. Hearing Daniel repeat that message destroyed any hope that his coming here was a simple thing.
“Ryan Cutty didn’t kill Nina, but someone thinks he should pay. Someone close to the family,” he continued, giving her a hard stare but keeping his smile. “He wants to see Ryan suffer. That’s why he’s doing this. To get to Ryan.” He stood, seeming to tower over her. “Did I get it right, honey?”
She felt her pulse jack up as he walked toward her. She had this idea that she should run while she still had the chance. But there was this other thought: Take responsibility.
“Are you going to tell the cops I killed Nina?” he asked. “Hmm? Because that’s the only way they’ll get the idea, right? You calling them. Just like you did the night Nina died.”
She didn’t know why she just stood there. She couldn’t seem to move. Take responsibility! Couldn’t say a word.
“I bet you thought you were so clever, calling the cops,” he told her. “Only, I thought it was a little strange, the lieutenant coming by to talk to me yesterday. I mean, twelve years is a long time to be asking questions about the hired help. Not that she let anything slip. Not Garten. But I could smell it on her. The suspicion. And you’d be surprised. With a little money and the right questions, you can get just about anybody to talk. It didn’t take long to hit pay dirt.”
Finding the dirt was Daniel’s specialty. With his charisma, who would even suspect him? That smile, his laugh. They would want to help him. What could it hurt to take his money and pass along a little information?
“Emma,” he said, circling closer, sensing that she might bolt. “I am deeply disappointed.”
He lunged for her.
Emma ducked under his arms, but he grabbed her jacket, pulling her back by the hood. She slipped one arm free, the jacket sliding half off before she ripped it from his hands. He was standing between her and the door, no longer smiling. She skipped back, turned and raced down the hall behind her.
He was going to kill her. She was sure of it.
She reached the bathroom, shut the door and locked it. She slipped on the tile and toppled to the floor. Her purse skidded to a stop against the bathtub, bursting open. Scooting away from the entrance, she could see the door bow in with each punch of his foot. Bam! He’d break it down any second.
She covered her ears, the sound of the blows deafening.
On the floor in front of her, the contents of her purse littered the tiles. She saw her cell phone, grabbed it and punched in the number she’d memorized, her fingers shaking. If you’re ever in trouble. She hit Send as the door crashed open.
“Daniel, please—”
“I was trying to build something here. I was trying to save this family!”
“You wouldn’t stop.” She tried not to cry, tried not to be afraid. “You almost killed her with your stupid stunt with the car.”
“Killed her? Like I killed Nina? You have to stop him—next time, he might kill her,” he said in a high-pitched voice. “Is that how we’re playing this, Emma?” He crouched down in front of her. “My fault?”
“I couldn’t get you to stop.”
“Well, you’ve stopped me now, haven’t you?” He slapped her hard across the face. He grabbed her by her arms and shook her. “What happened to the plan? What happened to us, together, on top?”
“I’m sorry.” She acted instinctively, trying to hug him. To stop him. “I am so sorry. You’re right, I ruined—”
He pushed her away. “You’re lying. And you’re not even good at it.”
But suddenly, he fell back, losing his balance as if struck by some realization. His eyes grew wide. “Jesus. That son of a bitch, Harris? Her brother?”
“No, Daniel.”
“Jesus Christ.” It was too much. The betrayal. “All of you. Nina…Holly.”
He punched her hard, in the face.
“Every last one of you!”
But when he aimed to punch her again, she dove at him, tackling him. She scrambled over him, her legs tangling with his arms. She kicked her way free. She ripped off her jacket, threw it in his face as he ran after her.
In the hall he caught her by her hair, pulling her to the floor. He straddled her, his face a mask of hate. She knew this was the end. Just like Nina. Finally, she would get her due.
It was her last thought before he hit her, a crushing blow that made her head explode in pain before everything went black.
Ryan stepped on board the houseboat to find the phone ringing. He almost let it go, wanting to get back to Holly. He’d told her he had a few things to clear up at the vineyard and that she was to stay put. Her brother had given Ryan his assurances she’d do just that after he’d told Harris about their encounter with Daniel. Ryan wanted to get back to her as soon as possible. Let the machine get it.
But he had this feeling. It could be Holly. In trouble, trying to reach him.
He hurried over, feeling his pulse race, worried all over again because she wasn’t standing right there in front of him to tell him she was okay. Maybe his cell phone wasn’t working; maybe she’d lost the number. He picked up.
“Hello?”
“Ryan! Thank God. I’ve been calling and calling.”
It was his father, sounding hysterical.
“What’s the matter? What’s going on?”
“It’s Nina. Ryan, please. Help me. Nina is dead. I don’t know what to do.”
Ryan felt his knees buckle, dropping him to the couch. “Nina?”
“Please, Ryan. You have to help me. I really think she’s dead this time.”
It felt as if Ryan’s heart stopped in his chest. He couldn’t catch his breath. His father couldn’t be talking about Nina. Nina was dead. She’d been dead twelve years.
Holly.
“Listen to me,” he said. “What’s happened to Holly?”
But Samuel just kept ranting about needing his help. That it was Nina who had died. He needed Ryan to come over.
“Where are you?” Ryan asked, thankful when his f
ather managed an address. Pacific Heights. “Stay put. I’ll be right there.”
Racing to his car, his next call was on his cell to Holly. You’re too late. She’s dead. He killed her—just like he killed Nina.
But Holly picked up, her beautiful voice there on the other end, perfectly alive.
“Nothing’s wrong,” he told her, trying to calm down as he started the car and steered into the street. “Just don’t go anywhere.” And when she protested, telling him he didn’t have to repeat those orders every five seconds, he said softly, “Yeah. I know. I’ll be over soon. Okay?”
Nina is dead.
He remembered back to when his father had come on board to coax him to go to his mother’s party. His father had talked about Nina in the present tense then, as if she were still alive. How strange he’d thought it sounded at the time.
Nina had been DOA at the hospital. There’d been a closed casket at the funeral. Because identification hadn’t been an issue, there was no need to subject her family to the trauma of seeing her mangled body one last time.
He’d never actually seen the body, not after the paramedics took her away. But he couldn’t believe she’d survived to somehow hide for twelve years. And have one last laugh on them all.
Nina is dead.
He picked up his phone again, punched in another number.
Whatever was going on, he believed one thing was true. His father wasn’t hallucinating. Someone was dead.
32
Harris wanted to ignore the call, wanted to be pissed off enough that he could turn his back on Emma. He had Holly to think about, after all. Standing guard over his sister while Ryan got his act together had to be his first priority. That’s what mattered to him, not Emma and her last-ditch call for help.
Only, he kept staring at her number displayed on his cell, knowing that he had given her his number for a reason—her escape hatch.
He punched Send, but it wasn’t Emma whispering “hello” on the line. Instead, he heard her begging, arguing with Daniel, the fight between them going full steam. He figured she’d dropped the phone somewhere; their voices sounded distant and muffled. But Daniel’s murderous rage came through loud and clear before the call cut out.
He’s going to kill her. Which didn’t give Harris much choice.
He left Holly at the apartment, taking the keys to her rental car, his sister assuring him that she’d spoken with Ryan and he was on his way over. He headed for Chinatown and Emma’s apartment. At the same time, he called the cops to report a domestic disturbance at Daniel’s place. He didn’t know who would find them first, him or the police. He just knew he didn’t have much time.
The whole trip there, he second-guessed himself. He should have sent the cops to Emma’s, gone to Daniel’s place himself. Coming up the stairwell, he started thinking Dan had her somewhere else altogether and he’d never get to her in time. You guessed wrong!
He hadn’t expected Emma to be home, after all…hadn’t expected to hear her screams for help out in the hall.
He kicked in the door, almost taking it off the hinges. He found her on the floor, her face a bloody mess, Daniel towering over her ready to give it another go.
Daniel turned, looking almost glassy-eyed at Harris, consumed by the job at hand. “What the hell?”
He never knew what hit him. Along with a few other talents, Harris knew how to incapacitate a man. Only, he didn’t settle for making it easy. He had to admit it felt good, beating the crap out of the bastard.
He had Daniel on the living room floor, hog-tied with the guy’s Gucci belt. He pushed him over with his foot, so that Daniel rolled onto his stomach, head down on the floor. It wouldn’t do to have him choke on the blood oozing from his nose. Too bad about the stains on the carpet, though.
He found Emma still in the hallway. She’d made herself into a tiny ball, huddling there against the wall. He crouched down. He didn’t know if he should touch her. She’d covered her face with her hands, as if she didn’t want him to see her.
“Hey,” he said, taking hands from her face. There was a cut on her cheek; the eye had pretty much swelled shut. Daniel had split her lip. The stud above her mouth had fallen out and she was bleeding enough that it dripped onto her shirt. Shit.
He helped her up, holding her so that she leaned on him. “Maybe we should get some ice on that?”
“I’m so sorry.” She said it over and over as he guided her into the living room and helped her down onto the couch. “He found out I called the police.”
“You’re a piece of work, Emma.” The guy was spitting mad, rabid in his hate. “After everything we’ve been through, are you going to tell him I killed Nina, too?” Daniel asked, his eyes bugging huge with rage. “Is that how this is going to play, Emma?”
“He killed Nina?” Harris asked.
“No.” She shook her head, if possible, even more upset. “I did. I killed Nina.”
The police arrived before Ryan, which he’d expected, having made the call. His father was sitting at the dining-room table covered in a blanket, talking to a police inspector. He stood the minute he saw Ryan.
There was blood everywhere. His father’s hands were red with it.
Father looked at son. “She just came and killed her.”
There was a body on the carpet, the face turned away from Ryan. Someone was taking photographs so that intermittent flashes lit up the room. He could see a dark stain like a halo where the woman’s head lay against the plush carpet.
But it wasn’t Nina lying there dead. The body was that of a different woman, someone he didn’t recognize.
Even in the horror of the moment, he realized she didn’t even look like Nina. She was shorter, blond and very young. Nina would have been thirty years old. The woman lying there couldn’t be more than twenty.
But a wig had fallen off and lay next to her, and her clothes were similar to what Nina would have worn. To his father, drunk and obsessed…yeah, maybe she looked like Nina.
“She killed her,” his father said, still clearly in shock.
“Who killed her?” the inspector asked, seeing his chance.
“Vanessa.” Samuel whispered the word like a dark secret. He turned to Ryan. “Your mother. I was leaving her, you see. We had a terrible argument. She said I would humiliate her, take what little dignity she had left. She must have followed me here. I didn’t know.”
Ryan caught his breath, his heart speeding up. “Mom did this?”
“She had a gun. Foster’s gun, I think. She must have guessed that I was leaving her for Nina, that I couldn’t wait anymore.” He was crying now, so that the words hardly made sense. “I didn’t even know she was here. One of the neighbors must have buzzed her in. There wasn’t any warning. She just came through the door and killed her.”
Ryan tried to imagine his mother hitting some wall inside herself, realizing that his father was living a fantasy of Nina reborn. How degrading it would be, finding Samuel with this new Nina. It would be the last straw in a long life of last straws, and the poor woman playing out their charade had been caught in the crossfire.
“I don’t know how she found out—we were so careful. She said Nina needed to stay dead. And now, she’ll kill the other one,” his father said, touching Ryan’s elbow.
Ryan felt the words jerk him awake from the horror around him. “The other one?”
His father nodded. “The one who looks like Nina. The architect. She’ll kill her, too.”
Holly stepped into Cutty House. “Hello?”
Something wasn’t right. Holly had gotten the call to come here and she’d found the door open, but the place looked abandoned.
“Hello?”
The phone call had come after Harris’s sudden departure. She’d thought it would be Daniel, calling to make more threats. She’d braced herself, planning to tell him just what he could do with himself, the rat.
But it hadn’t been Daniel. Vanessa’s voice had come over the line, telling Holly she neede
d her help. She wanted to meet here, at Cutty House. Even on the phone, she’d sounded desperate and afraid so that Holly had scribbled a quick note and left it on the kitchen table for Ryan. She’d practically run the whole way.
“Vanessa?”
“Upstairs.”
Holly followed the sound of the voice and found Vanessa standing on the landing on the second floor. Holly waved, giving what she hoped was a reassuring smile, but Vanessa only glanced at her before continuing to the next floor.
Holly frowned. “Vanessa?” she called out, continuing to follow her up the stairs.
The lights were off, but she could see Ryan’s mother climbing ahead of her. Every so often, Vanessa turned to look at Holly, as though checking to see if she was still there.
“Okay,” Holly said, speeding up.
On the third floor, there was only one room with the light on—the room where she’d first seen Nina’s portrait. Her heart hammered against her chest as she reached the door. Vanessa had sounded strange on the phone; Holly had rushed here, worried. Suddenly, she wished she hadn’t been in such a hurry. She’d left her cell phone out in the car, plugged into the recharger.
Holly knocked, then pushed the door open, stepping into the room. “Vanessa?”
She could see Vanessa had been a busy girl. The sheets that had once covered the furniture and paintings were now folded in a neat pile. She’d rearranged the furniture.
“I’m right here.” Vanessa said, standing before a small painting on the far wall. “Thank you for coming.”
Vanessa turned. For the first time Holly noticed that Vanessa had something in her hand. It took Holly a second to realize it was a gun.
“Why don’t you have a seat?” Vanessa gestured toward the fireplace where two wing-backed chairs waited by the hearth.
She spoke the words as if she were hosting another party. Holly felt the breath seize up inside her lungs. She’d never seen a gun this close, and never had one trained right on her.
“I don’t understand,” Holly said, staying put.
“I know. That’s why I needed to talk to you. To explain everything. Please, sit down.”