“Trouble.” Abby almost cried. “Let the cat outside. Please.”
Miguel snorted.
“The cat,” Victor said. “Let him out. I’ll cooperate if you promise to let Trouble out.”
Miguel appeared to be considering Victor’s offer. “If you do exactly as I tell you—no resistance—I’ll put a bullet in both of your brains. You won’t be alive while you burn.” Miguel spoke as if he were assigning a classroom to read a chapter in a book, his voice so rote and unconcerned that Victor realized he was some kind of sociopath. “And I’ll let the cat out.”
Miguel walked over to Layla, sprawled out on the couch, and poked her shoulder with the barrel of the gun. “I had to keep her alive until she told me where all the flash drives were. I had to dangle her insulin in front of her a few times before she talked.” Miguel grinned. “Better than torture and not nearly so messy.”
Victor sensed movement and glanced toward Trouble, who was standing up. Moving quietly so as not to attract Miguel’s attention, Trouble bent down toward the switchblade.
Wanting to distract Miguel from what Trouble was up to, Victor asked, “Why kill that homeless man?”
Miguel pointed the gun at Victor’s stomach. “Start tying her. Tight.”
“I mean, really, why kill him?” Victor looped a strand of rope around Abby’s waist, but kept his eyes on Miguel.
“He was supposed to have killed Layla that night at the law firm and stolen her backpack, then I was going to burn down her apartment and Abby’s house to get rid of any flash drives. And take out Jennifer too. But the man was too drunk.”
Victor pretended to tug on the rope as he felt Abby slowly sucking in her breath and pushing out her chest and stomach. Good girl, he thought, realizing she was trying to make herself as large as possible. When she exhaled, the ropes should go slack.
“But then I found out that damn bitch had copies of microfilm from the original manuscript of my book. I had to get that back. He was supposed to kidnap her and bring her to me, so I could make her talk. But he called me on a burner phone, drunk, hiding in the bathroom, with Layla knocked out. That’s all he’d manage to do—knock her out.”
As Victor maneuvered the ropes around Abby’s wrists, he left the strands as slack as he dared. He could feel her pulling her crossed hands slightly apart to make the bonds even looser.
“I had to kill him and take that stupid bitch out of the library myself. I was going to get Jennifer and then come back and take care of you,” he pointed at Abby, “but you wouldn’t believe how long it took to get that dead man in the dumpster. But that Valium I snuck into the tea bottles did the trick. You two slept through it all.”
Victor twisted a knot and stepped back from Abby. “All done.” He kept his eyes fastened on Miguel, not daring to look at Trouble for fear that Miguel would follow his glance.
“Sit,” Miguel said, pointing to a chair beside Abby’s. “Try messing with me, then I shoot her in the knees and leave you both to burn alive.”
Victor cast a sad look at Abby before he sat in the chair. She closed her eyes tightly. He didn’t blame her.
Suddenly Abby’s eyes popped open. “Jennifer knows, doesn’t she? That’s why you tried to kill her with pills and burn the house down.”
Miguel grunted and jerked on the rope around Victor. “Those two stupid bitches. Yeah, Jennifer knows. Layla emailed her the whole damn story that night in the library as some kind of guarantee I wouldn’t hurt you two while you were in the basement. Worked out well, didn’t it?” Miguel snickered. “As long as I had the wedding ring and earring, they weren’t going to rat on me because they couldn’t stand to see their precious Phillip get his feelings hurt.”
“But after Layla stole the jewelry back, Jennifer could just deny the affair. Phillip wouldn’t believe you.” Abby twisted on the ropes around her wrists as she talked. “He’d believe Jennifer and Layla over you. That’s why the ring and earring were important.”
“Yeah. It was a pretty interesting game of cat and mouse for a bit, especially with that little co-teaching gambit with Phillip, which gave me ready access to Phillip’s stash of pills and key cards. But I’d say it’s over now.”
“But what if Jennifer recovers?”
Miguel glared at Abby. “You don’t think I can charm my way through the nurses and kill her if she even looks like she’ll wake up?”
With that, Miguel kicked at Victor’s chair and went into the kitchen. As soon as Miguel was out of the room, Trouble leapt toward Abby, the switchblade in his mouth. But Abby was already working the loosened ropes from around her hands. “Take it to Victor,” she whispered.
Victor heard a match strike at the same time Trouble pushed the switchblade—still opened from where he had cut Layla free—into his hands. As he started sawing awkwardly at the ropes around his wrists, he smelled smoke.
Miguel came out and grinned at them. “Ah, shucks, boys and girls, good thing my insurance is paid up what with that nasty, crazed wife-killer Phillip burning down my cabin for revenge.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out some lighter fluid. “This should speed it all up.” He squirted the stuff around the kitchen table, putting his back to Victor as he did. Victor hacked at the ropes with renewed vigor.
As Victor sawed his ropes, he glanced at Trouble, who was inching along the bookshelf. Miguel gave an extra squirt around the couch where Layla slumped.
“Oh, and, yes, that was my old black BMW you saw speeding away from Jennifer’s house.” Miguel turned back to Abby. “When I saw you, I came back and set the carpet on fire and squirted lighter fluid around the bedroom door, figuring I’d take you both out at once. I’d already purchased my new car, but I wasn’t foolish enough to drive a distinctive red car to a crime scene.”
Miguel waved the gun at Abby’s face. “That’s why my new red beauty is parked in my driveway at home right now, where my neighbors will see it and testify I was home while you two burned, but the BMW is parked right beside your pickup, hidden by the trees.”
Victor turned around as far as he could in the chair. He couldn’t see for sure, but he thought Abby had her hands free. But she was still tied about her chest to the chair. To Victor’s horror, he saw flames in the kitchen.
“Oh, and that promise about shooting you in the head?” Miguel shrugged. “What’s one more little lie?”
Miguel backed away from Abby and Victor, grinning.
The man was definitely some kind of sociopath. How had he managed to succeed so long without getting caught in his own evilness?
But what did that matter now?
Chapter Fifty-One
Victor wasn’t going to die like this, not burned to death by a madman. And he wasn’t going to let Abby die that way either.
He leaned forward in the chair, his feet firmly on the ground, and he twisted his hands, working the knife until his hands were free. Gripping the switchblade behind his back, he managed to cut loose one loop of rope around his chest. But he was running out of time to saw through the rest of the rope. “Come look me in the face, you psycho.”
“Or what? You’ll huff and puff and blow my house down?” But even as he jeered, Miguel stepped closer to Victor.
Beside Victor, Abby wiggled until the loops of rope around her chest began to slide down. Victor rolled his eyes at her, trying to signal her to be ready.
Even though Miguel pointed the gun at his stomach, Victor had to be able to plunge the knife into Miguel while still partially tied to the chair. Victor didn’t believe for one moment he would survive the attempt, but he was hoping to create enough disturbance and damage to Miguel that Abby at least had a chance to escape the flames. And maybe if he could wound Miguel enough, Abby could get Layla out before the cabin burned.
As Victor tensed his legs to lunge, he heard Trouble meow, a low sound but with an edge to it. Victor swung his head around to look. Trouble was standing behind the heavy marble clock on the bookshelf. As Victor watched, Trouble pressed his head against the back of th
e clock. Then he raised his head, stared right into Victor’s eyes, meowed a single, clipped cry, and pointed at Miguel with his paw.
Trouble wanted Victor to lure the man in front of the bookcase so he could push the clock off onto the man’s head. That had to be the message, Victor thought, as he marveled at Trouble before turning back to Miguel.
Victor had to admit it was a much better plan than his idea of plunging a knife, while he was tied to a chair, into a man armed with a gun.
But he had to get Miguel over by the bookcase and in range of the heavy clock.
“This is all for nothing.” Victor fastened his hand around the knife’s handle just in case this gambit didn’t work. “I’ve already sent the info on Layla’s flash drive about you stealing the book to Detective Kelly and to Phillip and Delphine. I even used your laptop over there.” Victor held his breath for a moment, hoping he hadn’t misread the cable and modem.
Miguel glanced at the laptop, his eyes narrowing. But he didn’t move.
“Layla’s flash drive is still in the port.” Victor nodded toward the computer. “Go ahead, take a look yourself.”
Miguel made a sound like a growl deep in his throat, but he stepped to the desk and looked at laptop. Above his head, Trouble pushed the brass clock off the edge of the bookcase.
The clock hit the back of Miguel’s neck, smashing the man down on top of the keyboard, and his gun skittered out of his hand and across the floor.
Abby winched and yanked on the ropes around her chest as Victor struggled against those still binding him. In the kitchen, something hissed and popped and flames leapt into the living room, ever closer to Abby and Victor.
From the bookcase, Trouble knocked a couple of heavy textbooks down on top of Miguel.
Abby flung herself free of the ropes and dove for the gun on the floor just as Miguel rolled off the desk and struggled to stand up.
Miguel staggered toward her, but Trouble pounced, ripping into the man’s face with teeth and claw. As he howled and Trouble tore into him like an angry tiger, Abby picked up the handgun Miguel had dropped. She raised it as high as she could and brought it down with a resounding thunk on the man’s head. He collapsed with an oomph onto the floor.
Victor strained and bucked in the chair, still caught by one last loop of rope. The flames would soon catch on the throw rug near where he sat. Already he could feel the heat flare up around him.
A smoke detector went off, emitting a loud, sharp screaming noise. The fire was only a few feet from him, and he couldn’t get the last rope cut. “Abby, run, go!” No sense in all of them dying like this.
“I’m not leaving you and Layla,” Abby shouted over the roar of the flames. She dropped the gun and started yanking at the ropes that still held Victor, tearing them loose where he had already half-sawed through the strands.
Victor broke free of the rope. “Go, run. Get out. I’ll get Layla.” He stood up and raced for Layla. He lifted Layla from the couch and headed for the front door as Abby scooped down and picked up Trouble. They sprinted for the exit.
Once they were all outside, Victor laid Layla on the ground as gently as he could. Inside the cabin, the flames were crackling. Victor heard sirens in the distance and relief flooded through him. Fire truck or police, whoever was coming could get Layla to the hospital.
Layla would be all right.
They were all going to be all right.
Then he thought about Miguel. The man deserved to die.
But it wasn’t in Victor to let that happen. “Damn it,” he yelled out as he raced for door.
“No! Don’t go back in,” Abby shouted.
But Victor dashed back inside. The flames licked at the fringe of the throw rug only a few inches from Miguel, who was a limp mass on the floor.
Victor grabbed the man’s arms and unceremoniously yanked him across the floor and out into the fresh morning air.
The sirens were closer.
Victor collapsed on the ground and cradled Layla in his arms. Beside him, he could hear Abby begin to cry. As he held her, Layla shivered.
Trouble licked first Abby’s face, then Layla’s.
* * *
Damn fine choice on my part to send that email back at Abby’s house. Lucas no doubt had the good sense to look up this cabin’s address when he got the message. I see an ambulance and a Grady County Sheriff’s car, and Rizzo and Lucas’ car speeding up the dirt driveway.
I rub against Abby and lick her face. Then I curl against Layla, giving her my warmth.
Chapter Fifty-Two
Abby kept jumping up to hug Layla as she packed her belongings from Abby’s guest room. Layla’s apartment was ready and she was eager to go back to it, though Abby had insisted Layla stay with her longer.
“No, you’ve been greater than I can ever say or thank you, but you need your life back.” Layla grinned and flung a pack of sugar-free gum at Abby, who reached up and caught it.
“No, really. Stay. Help me figure things out.” Abby studied Layla, thinking she was still too pale and edgy to be alone.
“Figure what out? You told me you were quitting the law firm and had snared that great job as a law librarian at FSU. Go for it.”
Abby still wasn’t sure she was making the right decision, especially since working as a law librarian put her right back in the building where Layla had been kidnapped. But the position combined both her librarian experience and her legal training, and it paid well enough that she could still make her loan and mortgage payments—and buy plenty of primo salmon for Trouble.
Phillip and Delphine had promised her a partnership at the law firm next year, but Abby had seen too much damage done by ambition in the last week. She wanted off that train; she wanted her quiet life back, one where she had the time to spend with her plants, her garden, her fish tank—and with Trouble and Victor.
Despite some misgivings, Victor planned to finish law school. Then he’d be looking for a career in law enforcement. That’s what he’d always wanted, though side-tracked by his bitter resignation from the Navy. Rizzo and Lucas had promised to help him.
Abby pushed the thoughts of her and Victor’s career changes out of her head, focusing once more on Layla. She jumped over to her and gave her another hug.
“Chill, babe,” Layla said, but she laughed.
“It’s over, really over.” Abby wanted to hug Layla yet again, but held back.
Once Layla recovered from her diabetic coma, she’d told her side of the story. She and Miguel had been lovers for a semester, and she had never believed he would really harm her. When she found out he’d submitted her article to the law review with his name, she’d broken it off with him and threatened to expose him. She’d hidden all the pink flash drives with the various drafts of her article to prove she had written it, not him.
Trying to protect himself from scandal, Miguel had stolen Jennifer’s wedding ring and earring during a tryst at the lake cabin. He made Jennifer promise to control Layla and keep her from turning him in for plagiarism—or he’d wreck Jennifer and Phillip’s marriage and Jennifer’s reputation.
But Layla had begun to suspect he had also plagiarized his book, and set out to prove her theory. When she discovered the rare manuscript at the Library of Congress, she tracked it to the dead professor in Miami, and the rest of the puzzle fell into place.
Layla gathered her evidence and planned to expose Miguel, but Jennifer begged her not to do so in the phone conversation Victor overheard. Knowing the stakes were high, Layla had managed to lure Miguel into one more night at his cabin. While he slept, she found Jennifer’s ring and earring and stole them back.
After the accidental meeting with Miguel in the law school the night she disappeared, Layla realized he knew she’d figured everything out, no doubt alerted by her theft of the ring and earring. Desperate that night at the library, Layla feared Miguel would try to kill her and Abby. That’s why she’d told Miguel that Emmett and Victor were going to join them, and she’d invited bot
h men for safety and backup. But Abby sent Emmett away and Victor had his cell phone turned off.
When Layla couldn’t get Victor on the phone, she knew if she and Abby left the library, even with Emmett in tow, Miguel might be waiting and might kill them all. Frightened, and perhaps not thinking clearly, Layla dropped the flash drive in the umbrella stand after she’d emailed the whole story to Jennifer.
Layla told Jennifer where the flash drive was, and to contact the police if anything happened to her. Then Layla had emailed Miguel and told him she’d put the information that would destroy him on a flash drive and had hidden it in the law school, but he’d never find it. She also told him she’d sent an email with instructions that if anything happened to her, the receiver of the email was to deliver the flash drive to the police.
Soon after Layla had recovered and told her story, Jennifer came out of her coma. She and Phillip would have to have a long talk soon, but no doubt they could work out her infidelity and her addiction issues.
In the meantime, Jennifer managed to tell them that she’d tried to get the flash drive out of the umbrella stand so she could trade it for Layla, but the library basement remained full of police and detectives. Wanting to save both Layla and her marriage, rather than go to the police as Layla had instructed, Jennifer had confronted Miguel the morning after Layla disappeared, but without the flash drive Layla had told her about. Miguel admitted to Jennifer that he had Layla, but threatened to kill her if Jennifer said anything about him or his plagiarized book. Jennifer bargained to trade all the incriminating information—including the location of the flash drive—for Layla’s safe return. But she lied and told him the key flash drive was in her house. After that, Miguel had overcome her and forced her to swallow the pills. When Phillip was arrested, Miguel had taken a semi-comatose Jennifer back to her house in the wee hours of the morning, set up the kitchen to catch fire, and left her upstairs to die.
Jennifer admitted she’d come to Abby’s house the night Layla was kidnapped to ask for her jewelry back. But Layla had refused to return the items as she was afraid Jennifer—under the influence of Valium and not clear-headed—might try something foolish, which, of course, later Jennifer did in trying to negotiate with Miguel instead of following Layla’s instructions to contact the police.
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