She closed her eyes, pinched the bridge of her nose. But her father was right. She had to accept that the full truth might never be known. Believe Allan Spidell had been the murderer.
On the table in front of her, the album was open to the photo of her mother in the yellow dress standing by the fence. She was looking at the camera, an enigmatic expression on her face, as though she was thinking of some far-off place. It had been her favorite photo of her mother, until she’d learned her had mother had been killed in that dress. Cullen had wanted to know when it had been taken.
She showed the picture to her father as Karina came with coffee. “When was this taken? I remember that dress.”
Karina said, “I don’t remember it.”
Nicky said, “It’s the only piece of clothing of Mom’s I remember.” She didn’t want to mention it was also the dress she was wearing when she was murdered. She doubted Cullen had told them.
Her father looked over. “Let me think. I think it was in the spring. That was the only time she ever wore it.” He wiped his eyes.
She said, “Oh, Dad, I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“It’s okay. Memories are good.”
“But are you sure it was the spring?”
“Is it important?”
Ignoring him, a wisp of memory, thin and light as air, surfaced. Her mother in that dress on the front step. Sitting back, she tried to tease out the details.
This time it was Karina who spoke. “Nicole? What’s wrong?”
Tension building in her, she studied their faces. The memory was faded, like a sepia-tinted photograph, but one detail was clear as a blinding light. “She wore it when she saw me off to school. I can picture her on the front step, waving to me.”
Both just looked at her, saying nothing.
“It wouldn’t have been the spring. I wasn’t in school until that fall.” Her throat went dry. “I think it was the last day I saw her.” It made sense, since she’d started school not long before her mother disappeared.
Karina raised her eyebrows. “Is this important? Show it to me again.”
She passed Karina the photo album. Her father put his head down. When he raised it, his face was flushed and his lips had flattened into a hard line.
Karina said, “You’re right. It was in September, just before school started. I do remember it now because I was with her when she bought it. I got an outfit for the first day of school. She said the dress was for a special occasion. What was that, Dad? Your anniversary?”
A chill spread over Nicky’s skin. “Your anniversary? You had the day off, didn’t you, Dad?”
In a horrible instant, an idea started to gel. Her mother had worn the dress the day she had gone for an anniversary lunch with Nicky’s father. The day she had been murdered.
Not the next day, when her father was at work.
Her father stared at her, not saying anything.
Karina stared at him. “Dad, what is it? What’s wrong?”
Her father stood suddenly, walked out of the room and down the hallway. A moment later, the bathroom door closed.
Karina glared at her. “You’re upsetting him. What does it matter what she was wearing?”
Their father returned, walked into the kitchen, opened a drawer, and then stood at the breakfast bar, that unfocused look in his eyes.
Standing up, Nicky walked to the kitchen to face him across from the breakfast bar. She clasped her hands to keep them from shaking. “You weren’t at work the day Mom was murdered, were you?”
Karina walked up to Nicky, grabbed her roughly by the arm. “What are you talking about?”
Ignoring her, Nicky looked at her father. “What happened?” Her voice croaked, but she pushed on. “Was she going to leave you?”
Not saying anything, her father watched her for a moment, his eyes cold and his lips thinned into a bitter smile.
Then he reached in the kitchen drawer and pulled out a gun.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
A cold sweat broke out everywhere on Nicky’s body and she felt the floor sway beneath her. Her father had never had a gun. He’d been antigun his whole life. Or so she’d thought. How could she have been so wrong in so many ways?
All those years, she thought her mother had taken off, abandoned them. But her father had killed her mother. And had tried to kill her. Would now kill her.
Karina leaned her elbows on the counter, steadying herself, then put her head in her hands. “I don’t understand.”
“He killed Mom on Tuesday, the day he was off work for the anniversary lunch, not the Wednesday. But he told everybody that Wednesday was the last day we saw her, because he had an alibi for that day.”
A mixture of anger and fear churning inside her, Nicky turned to her father. “Why?” she demanded.
His face was a mask, hard and vicious, unrecognizable as her father. He opened his mouth to speak but the doorbell rang.
Her father started, looked quickly at Karina. “Karina, send whoever it is away.” Karina stood frozen in place. “Karina!”
Lifting her head, Karina’s eyes looked cold and lifeless.
“Go!” James Bosko barked.
Clenching her fists, Nicky waited for Karina to refuse, to challenge her father.
Instead, Karina brushed a hand across her face to wipe away tears, then walked like a robot to the door.
Blood pounded in Nicky’s ears. Her father. Now her sister, too. Sweat trickled down her spine. Her father’s icy eyes bore into her.
He hates you. Loathes you. Why?
A voice came from the hallway. It was loud, insistent. A man. Cullen.
She froze, said a silent prayer for him to go away.
“Keep quiet,” her father hissed, pointing the gun at her.
Nicky bit her lip as tears splashed down her face.
Just seconds later, Karina returned with Cullen in tow. His eyes widened when he saw the gun in James Bosko’s hand, then his gaze darted around the room until he found Nicky.
Her father barked at Karina, “Couldn’t you get rid of him?”
Karina seemed to be in a daze. Looking down, she walked slowly to her father’s side, where she stood listlessly.
Her father walked over to Cullen, searched him for a gun. Finding none, he gestured with his own toward Nicky, who stood in the middle of the family room near the sofa. Cullen walked over, took her hand in his, and shot her a grim smile.
She had to buy time, figure out a way to save Cullen. But how? Keep her father talking.
She said, “Why? At least tell me why.”
His eyes narrowed into mean, angry slits. “Why do you think? Your mother was running around on me.”
“You said it was over; you had reconciled.”
He huffed. “What do you take me for? I couldn’t just pretend it didn’t happen.”
Nicky took a step closer. “I certainly didn’t take you for a murderer.”
Her father pointed the gun at her. “Stay where you are.”
Cullen took a step closer so he was beside her. “What do you plan to do now? Kill us both? You’ll never get away with it.”
James Bosko smirked. “Of course I will.” He turned to Karina. “Get the twine out of the drawer in the kitchen. Tie him up. Hurry up.”
As Karina walked to the kitchen, Nicky gave a sharp intake of breath. “And the man Mom had the affair with? Did you kill him, too?”
He waited until Karina had finished tying their hands behind their backs to continue. “I’ll get to that. I imagine with you two gone he’ll be waiting for it.”
Cullen said, “Your own brother? You’d kill your own brother?”
Her breath catching, Nicky turned to Cullen. “What?” It couldn’t be true.
Cullen said, “Your mother and your uncle had a relationship in high school. They even planned to get married, but when she came back from college, your father won her away.”
Her father said, “Did he brag about that to you? He had to have everything, didn�
��t he?”
Cullen said, “Your whole lives were one big competition, but to hear him tell it, you were the one who drove it.”
Her father’s lips curled in disgust. “Little Stevie had to win. And every time, he had to shove it in my face. Well, I was going to show him.”
Cullen inched closer. “Especially when you knew how much he loved her.”
Bile rose in Nicky’s throat. All her father’s talk about brotherly love and the importance of family relationships. It had just been so much air. Why did he kill his wife rather than his brother? To make him suffer? She wanted to scream.
Cullen turned to Karina, who stood ashen-faced at his side, not moving. “What did you know about this?”
James Bosko answered for her. “She didn’t know I killed your mother, if that’s what you’re worried about. She just helped with my alibi. Unlike Nicky, she knows the meaning of loyalty.”
Nicky looked at Karina, tried to summon pity for her sister but was left with something closer to disgust. Her father wasn’t even going to allow Karina to speak for herself. He had taken total control over her, as he had done her entire life. It was as if she wasn’t even in the room.
Cullen slid closer yet, standing about four feet from her father. He said, “And now you’re prepared to shoot your own daughter?”
“Who says she’s mine?” Her father spat the words out.
Nicky gasped, froze. A heavy weight descended on her chest. James Bosko said, “Steve is her father, not me. I had a suspicion about it, but Lisa didn’t admit it until the end.” Steely eyes glanced toward Nicky. “He doesn’t know, in case you’re wondering.”
Cullen said, “Was that why Lisa was scared for Nicole? She thought you were going to take revenge by killing Nicole?”
James Bosko huffed. “I’m glad I didn’t. It turned out to be so much more fun watching her make a mess of her life.”
Nicky closed her eyes, tried to block the cruel, hurtful words. So many things made sense now. She had made such a mess of her life; she had made it so easy for him.
Cullen said, “Except her life isn’t such a mess, is it?” He glanced at her, his eyes full of warmth and love. “That must really bug you.”
James Bosko walked over to the back door, then motioned with the gun for them to follow. On his face was a look of mock sorrow. “Not really, because her time is up and so is yours. Let’s go.”
She said, “Where are you taking us?”
“The boat. This time I’ll make sure the job is finished.”
Cullen repeated, “You’ll never get away with it.”
A ghastly smile formed on James Bosko’s lips. “I wouldn’t be so sure. It shouldn’t be so hard to pin this on Steve—especially when he’s dead.” He spoke with discouraging calmness.
“Please, Dad, please don’t do this,” she begged.
Her father—the man she had thought was her father—laughed coldly. “I’m not your father. I never was. I’ve got one daughter and that’s enough.”
Nicky swallowed hard. He would force them into his boat, take them out to the lake, kill them, and then pin the murders on his own brother. A fierce kind of anger grew in her, an anger fueled by humiliation, disgust at his depravity, and the knowledge he would kill again. And get away with it again.
He’d done such a great job of pretending, pretending he’d wanted to find out who had killed his wife. The tears, the pleas for justice, they were just ploys. The man who stood before her now, his eyes cold as ice, skin stretched to a snarl, looked like another person. But he was the real James Bosko, stripped of artifice. The man she’d thought was her father had been a fake. He had always hated her, she realized now with crystal clarity. She’d thought their difficulties were because, unlike Karina, she had rebelled. But he had wanted her to fail. That had been his revenge.
James Bosko stood to the side of the door. “Let’s go.”
A move had to be made soon if she had any hope of stopping his cold-blooded plan. She stepped toward the door. Cullen followed behind her. Karina stood to the side, avoiding eye contact.
Her whole body trembling, she forced herself forward. Two more steps and she was in front of the door. James Bosko pointed the gun at her with a steady hand. It was close enough to reach.
She stopped, met those cold eyes. “Please, Dad.” Hoping to distract him, she injected a pleading note in her voice. “Can’t we just talk about this?”
He smirked, then motioned with the gun to the door again.
Now or never.
She lunged at him in a furious panic, reaching for the hand that held the gun. Screamed.
But he must have been prepared for her attack, because he was too quick. He wrenched his hand away and pulled the trigger.
* * *
Cullen had no time to react. When Nicole lunged for the gun, letting out an almost animalistic roar, Bosko reacted with lightning speed. Cullen shoved Nicole to the floor a split second before Bosko yanked his hand away and pulled back on the trigger.
It was a budget version Smith & Wesson, small but deadly. The gunshot was deafening and he felt a kick in his right shoulder, the force of the impact at such close range spinning him around and flinging him back against the sofa behind him.
He was stunned for a moment, then looked at his shoulder and saw blood. Not enough to suggest an artery had been clipped, but enough to know he’d been hit.
Nicole, eyes wide in horror, rushed to his side. He breathed deep, tried to offer a reassuring smile. “It’s all right. I’m okay.” Except for the fact he’d just been shot, was tied up, and that they were about to die.
Bosko grunted triumphantly. “Try again and I’ll put a bullet in your head right here.”
Tears pooled in Nicole’s eyes as she examined his shoulder. She glared at Karina. “Help him, for God’s sake.”
Karina stiffened and started to move, but her father put out a hand and held her back, then looked at him and Nicole. “Let’s get moving,” he growled.
His shoulder didn’t hurt much, but it was hard to move because his hands were bound too tightly behind his back. He couldn’t have done it better himself. They stumbled to the door.
Nicole glanced at him. Tears flowed down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
His breath caught in his throat. “It’s not your fault.”
They walked out the door, and started across the rocks toward the lake. He glanced behind to see Bosko following them. Karina walked behind him, her movements mechanical, her expression dull, as if the life had gone out of her like air from a balloon.
“What are we going to do?” Nicole whispered. Her eyes were wide and she looked scared, but there was still fight left in her.
He ran through the options. It didn’t look good. Their captor was armed and had an accomplice. He was injured. He was tied up. Nobody knew they were here, so the possibility of rescue was almost nil. Cullen had told Anna he was going to see Steve Bosko, but he hadn’t updated her on his visit right after to James Bosko. He wasn’t even on the clock until later in the day. That was hours from now. They wouldn’t know anything was wrong.
His blood chilled. He and Nicole would be long dead by then, their bodies dumped in the lake.
But he had to try something. At least he could try to make sure Nicole survived. Up ahead was the dock, a wooden platform built over the rocks and extending about eight feet over the water. A white motorboat was tied to the side. It was about fifteen feet long, with room for five people at the most. It must have been used recently, because the outboard was in the water.
His shoulder was starting to hurt. It was a nagging pain, but bearable.
Bosko pushed him toward the boat. “Get in.”
Nicole sat down, swung her legs over the side of the boat, and climbed in. He followed her and they shuffled to the back and sat down.
Bosko stepped into the boat, followed by Karina. Bosko sat in front behind the steering wheel. Karina sat in the other seat and took the gun when h
e handed it to her. He said, “Don’t let them move. If either of them does, put a bullet in both of them.”
Karina sat sideways, her arm draped across the back of the seat, the gun in her hand pointed at them. An empty look had dulled her eyes but she had her finger on the trigger. She was on autopilot, and her father had the controls.
Bosko turned on the ignition and the boat kicked to life. The lake was shaped like an S, trees all around. The few houses built on the lake had been set back closer to the road. Only somebody standing on the shoreline could see them, and it didn’t look like anybody was out.
He glanced at Nicole, who shivered in her seat and glared at her sister. The wind was picking up, and cold, choppy water splashed against the hull.
What in the hell were they going to do? They could try jumping out, but their chances of getting shot were pretty high. Never mind trying to swim with your hands tied behind your back.
They were halfway down the lake, Bosko steering the boat close to the shoreline, but going along at a decent clip. Once in a while he glanced over his shoulder, but Karina, avoiding her sister’s glare, kept the gun pointed in their direction.
Tears stained Nicole’s pale cheeks. “I’m sorry.”
Leaning toward her, he kissed her cheek. “You have nothing to be sorry about. But we’ve got to figure out a way to get out of this.”
“We’re close enough to shore. We have to jump. Can you get untied?”
“I’m working on it,” he lied. There was no way he could get untied. “Almost done.” He met her eyes. They were huge. Torture to look at and think it would all be over for them, just when things were getting started. “As soon as he slows down. We’ll count to three, then go together.” He’d wait, throw himself at Karina. At least give Nicole a fighting chance.
The boat hit a big wave with a smack. His shoulder hurt now, the pain searing.
A minute later, Bosko pulled into a sheltered cove and cut the engine.
Cullen tried again to untie the rope behind his back. It cut deep into his wrists as he spread his hands. The rope was too tight.
Extreme Pursuit (Chasing Justice #2) Page 16