by Simon Wood
She nodded.
Andrew went to the first door on his left and put his ear to it. He waved her on before opening it and disappearing inside.
She crossed to the end of the hallway and found herself in the main foyer. The front entrance was straight ahead, a pair of curving stairways to the second floor flanked the foyer, and hallways extended to her left and right. She peered down the hallways and saw no one. When she heard no voices or movement, she jogged over to the stairs, careful to make sure that her sneakers didn’t squeak on the tiled floors.
She moved with deliberate pace to the top of the stairs and stopped. She listened again for people, then crossed to the first room. Like Andrew, she pressed her ear to the door and heard nothing. She cracked the door. It was dark inside. She listened for sounds of someone sleeping and heard none. She went inside and flicked on the lights.
It was a bedroom. Going through the closets and drawers, she decided it was a guest room, judging by the lack of personal belongings. She switched off the light and left the room, closing the door.
She repeated the same cautious procedure with the next room. When she got no signs of occupancy, she opened the door, and an acrid stink greeted her. She let herself in and flipped on the light. It was another bedroom, and it had been stripped bare, but that only showcased the fire damage on the floor and walls. It was recent, by the smell. She had a nasty vision of Roy torturing a client in here, and she shuddered.
She left the room and worked her way down the hallway. Every room was either a bedroom or a bathroom. There were another five doors still to open, and she’d keep going, but it was becoming clear the Infidelity Limited vault of secrets wasn’t upstairs.
In the hallway, she pulled out her cell and sent a text to Andrew: It’s all bedrooms up here so far. Need me down there?
As she pocketed her phone, a voice behind her said, “Who are you?”
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Andrew was in what looked to be Roy’s personal den. It was a total man cave, with its vintage pinball machine, movie posters, and big-screen TV. The den looked like the kind of place someone would keep secret files, but the most valuable thing he’d found was an extensive vinyl-record collection. Roy seemed to have a bent for ’70s American rock music.
Having found a sitting room, a laundry room, a gym, the kitchen, a dining room, and now the den, he was beginning to worry that Roy ran Infidelity Limited elsewhere. If he kept his identity and home this far from his clients, then maybe he did the same with his business records. Everything could be in a storage unit in Temecula for all he knew. If that were true, it would mean a change in plans. This would go from a break-in to a kidnapping.
The door to the den opened. Andrew dived behind the wet bar and hoped the occupant wasn’t looking for a drink.
Roy crossed the room and went to his wall of vinyl. If he turned around, he’d see Andrew. Andrew shifted his position to keep out of sight.
Roy pulled out a couple of records and left the room without closing the door.
A thought formed at the back of Andrew’s mind—where’s Roy been? He had seen Roy enter the house but had not seen him since. Andrew had been doing a dance with the young guy, Luis, in order to move around the house unobserved, but Roy seemed to have fallen into a black hole until now. Olivia would have texted him if she’d seen him upstairs. Roy had himself secreted away somewhere in this house.
Andrew ran to the door in time to see Roy turn a corner. He followed, moving with a deliberate pace, ensuring his precise steps didn’t make a sound.
The house was separated into three sections, a central section and two wings on either side. He followed Roy across the foyer into the other wing. Halfway down the hallway, Roy descended a set of stairs and disappeared from sight. Andrew held his position. He heard a door open, then close.
He hurried over to the stairway. The stairs led down to a basement, but it was no ordinary basement. The door to it was secured by a keypad, and an intercom was on the wall. This place was secret. This place was Infidelity Limited. Olivia’s salvation was on the other side of that door, and he couldn’t get in, not without the code.
At least he knew where everything was. It was time to regroup. He climbed back up the stairs, where he found Luis standing in the middle of the hallway, holding an expandable baton.
“You picked the wrong fucking house to rob, douche bag,” Luis snarled.
If Andrew was alone, he would have run, but Olivia was in the house somewhere. He couldn’t leave her exposed.
I don’t think so, Andrew thought. He needed to get into that room, and Luis just might be his way in. He put his tool bag down.
Luis took that as his opening and charged the thirty-foot gap between them. Andrew simply held his position. Luis swung the baton back, preparing to smash it over Andrew’s head. Andrew raised his forearm to block the downward blow and drove a fist into Luis’s stomach. The young man’s swing went wide as his breath exploded from his mouth. He deflated, falling to the floor on his butt. Andrew moved in fast, grabbed Luis’s wrist, and twisted his arm hard, forcing the baton from his grasp.
Luis smashed a fist into the back of Andrew’s right knee, dropping him to the floor. The second he was on his knees, Luis was all over him. While Andrew had fifty pounds and six inches on him, the guy was fast. He smashed Andrew with rapid punches that rocked him.
Luis used the moment to untangle himself from Andrew and deliver a few swift kicks. The guy had more game than Andrew thought, but these weren’t dojo moves. They were all street moves—fast, nasty, and vicious. That told Andrew something. This kid could handle himself, but he’d never been taught how to fight. His moves were designed to hurt, not to disable his opponent. He rolled away from Luis before the guy could do some real damage and also to buy himself some space.
Andrew jumped to his feet in time to just miss a foot to the head. He brought the baton down on Luis’s thigh as it went by. The dense thud of metal against muscle churned Andrew’s stomach. The shock wave of pain felled Luis. As he hit the ground, Andrew caught the young man, slapping a hand over his mouth before his scream could rouse anyone.
Keeping his hand across Luis’s mouth, Andrew came in tight behind him and wrapped his other arm around Luis’s neck so it was squeezed by the crook of his arm. Andrew removed his hand from Luis’s mouth and pressed it against his other hand, increasing the pressure on either side of Luis’s neck and pinching the veins. If the guy had any fight smarts, he’d know what was coming.
“I need into that room. You going to tell me the code?”
“Fuck you,” Luis growled.
He bucked in Andrew’s grasp, but Andrew nipped that in the bud by wrapping his legs around his quarry. He increased the pressure. “One . . . two . . . I bet you’re seeing starbursts . . . three . . . four . . . you won’t hear me say ten.”
The guy was already going limp.
“Tell me.”
Luis tried saying “fuck you” again, but his words trailed off. He was out cold in Andrew’s arms. He released his hold and laid him out.
Snatching up his tool bag, Andrew pulled out the duct tape and started trussing up Luis. Sure, it would have been nice to have gotten the kid’s cooperation, but he didn’t need it. He’d thought of another way into the basement.
Olivia turned around. A diminutive woman stood at the entrance of one of the bedrooms. She was no more than five feet tall and painfully thin. She couldn’t have weighed more than a hundred pounds. It was hard to tell her age from the severe burn scarring half of her face. She could have been thirty or fifty. The full-length nightdress failed to hide the disfigurement to her left hand. Olivia guessed the scarring covered half of her body. She did her best not to let her shock at the woman’s appearance show. Is this Roy’s woman?
“I said, who are you?”
Olivia had nothing. All she could do was talk her way out of this. “Olivia.”
“You’re a client of Roy’s.”
Olivia’
s cover was blown. Her only option was to do everything she could to stop this woman from yelling for Roy. “Yes. And you are?”
“Beth.”
Olivia smiled. “So, you’re Beth.”
“Roy’s mentioned me?”
“He calls you his lady.” Banter could be her savior. Anything to keep this woman talking and not asking the obvious question—why are you in my home?
“He does.” She smiled back. “Would you like to come into my room?”
“I’d love to.”
Olivia followed Beth into her room. It was a little Barbie-esque in its furnishings. There were a lot of colorful pillows and draped fabrics. It was all a little too girlish for a woman of her age. One other thing was clear. This wasn’t a bedroom she shared with Roy. Nothing suggested a man slept here.
She felt sad for this woman and Roy. Whatever their relationship, he was keeping Beth as comfortable and happy as possible.
“Could you close the door?” Beth asked. “I don’t want to be disturbed. It’s nice to have some girl time.”
Beth pointed to a couple of floral-print reading chairs by the window. A circular coffee table, complete with a tea set, separated the chairs. They each took a seat.
Olivia had the horrible feeling this room was Beth’s whole world.
“Tea?” Beth asked. “It’s just been brewed.”
“Please.”
Beth poured them both a cup.
Olivia saw this meeting as her chance to learn something about Roy. He knew everything about her. It would be useful to finally learn something about him. Maybe she’d learn something that would prevent him from retaliating against her.
“So how long have you two been together?” Olivia asked.
“I thought you said Roy talked about me.”
“He talks about you, but he’s never talked about your relationship.”
Beth laughed. “Just like him. We’ve been together twenty years now. He saved me from an abusive relationship.”
“That’s terrible. I’m sorry.”
Beth ran a hand over her damaged face. “I owe him my life. Not just from the fire. In other ways too. He indulges me. He keeps me safe from harm. I know that man would kill for me.”
“Has he killed for you?” She was taking a risk asking that question, but Beth seemed so out of it that Olivia didn’t think it would register as weird. If she could get a name of someone he’d killed and prove that he had done it, then she’d have the ammunition she needed to bring Roy down. It would be nice to do to him what he’d been doing to others.
“No, he hasn’t, but he would. I know it.”
Just like Roy to be squeaky clean, Olivia thought.
“How did you meet Roy?” Beth asked.
The question made Olivia sweat, but this could be interesting. Beth could know some interesting facts about what funded her lavish lifestyle.
“Through Infidelity Limited,” Olivia replied.
Beth nodded her understanding.
“Do you know what Infidelity Limited does?”
“Yes. Roy punishes people who are unfaithful to their families. Did someone wrong you?”
“Yes, my husband.”
“And Roy took care of it.”
And how, Olivia thought. “Yes. My husband died.”
Beth nodded as if Olivia had just said her husband was waiting in the car. The woman either had checked out on reality or was overmedicated.
“My husband was killed by Infidelity Limited,” Olivia said.
“Yes.”
“Roy killed my husband.”
Beth smiled and shook her head. “No . . . no . . . no.”
“Yes, that’s what he does. He might be a wonderful man to you, but he’s actually a killer.”
“No, he isn’t. Infidelity Limited doesn’t work that way. Other clients kill for him. Roy’s never killed.”
Beth’s answer sucker punched Olivia. The woman knew what Roy did, and she was okay with it. “You know?”
“Of course I know. Roy just does as he’s told. I created Infidelity Limited.”
Olivia got to her feet, dropping her tea. She’d been suckered again.
Beth stood too. “I’ve been where you’ve been. I’ve been someone’s punching bag and doormat. I wanted my pound of flesh, and it cost me.” She pointed at her ruined face. “But I deserved it too. I let it happen. I deserved to be punished as much as my abuser. That’s why if someone has to kill for you, you have to be willing to kill too and pay the price.”
Olivia had no answer. Beth’s convoluted and twisted sense of right and wrong was beyond her understanding.
Beth looked down. “Look at the mess you made. Tea all over my carpet. Do you have any matches?”
The question baffled Olivia. “Matches? No.”
“That’s okay. I have my own.”
From under the coffee table, she produced a matchbook. She tore a match off, lit it, then touched it to the other matches in the book. A sense of wonder spread across her face as all the matches ignited at once. Then she dropped the burning matchbook to the carpeted floor.
“What are you doing?” Olivia cried.
Olivia went to stamp the matchbook out, but the second it hit the carpeting, flames spread across the floor at an alarming rate. Now she knew who was responsible for the scorched bedroom. She grabbed the teapot and threw the contents on the growing fire.
“Don’t!” Beth screamed, shoving Olivia away.
The tea stemmed the fire’s progress, but it continued to burn far more quickly than it should have.
“You’ve ruined it!” Beth screamed. She upended the coffee table and tore off a bunch of matchbooks taped to the underside.
The fire continued to spread, despite the tea dousing. Olivia snatched a pillow off the bed and beat at the flames. Beth backhanded her across the face, sending her to the ground.
Beth torched another matchbook and touched it to the sheer curtains. The flames ate through the sheer material in seconds. The curtain blackened and curled up into itself, carrying the flames up to the ceiling.
“Stop it. You’ll burn the place down.” Olivia jumped to her feet and grabbed a quilt from the bed. She beat at the flames as they jumped from the sheer curtains to the main curtains.
Beth charged past her, threw open the door, and ran into the hallway.
That was when Olivia witnessed the most amazing sight of her life. Beth touched the flaming matchbook to one of the hallway walls, then to the other. A shimmering flame danced up each wall to meet on the ceiling. The archway of fire turned into a tunnel as the flames chased along the length of the hallway and Beth chased after them.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Being in the Vault soothed Roy tonight. He sat with his feet up on his desk while Creedence played on the turntable. He had a nice three fingers of bourbon warming his insides. The setting was conducive to letting him think. That was why he liked the Vault so much. It was his personal space where he could lock the world out and think. And he had plenty to think about.
He stared at Olivia’s money sitting on the table in front of him. He’d fly out to the Caymans to deposit it next week. Four hundred and fifty thousand dollars. It was a pretty nice haul. He usually raked in around two hundred grand per client these days. Still, he was disappointed. This job hadn’t gone well. According to Dolores, Lou Carrington was dead at the bottom of Skyline Boulevard. He and Carrington had been forced to step in and kill Heather and Amy Moore-Marbach. He’d lost a million bucks when they killed Heather.
All of these things happened because Olivia Shaw had fought back. He didn’t blame Olivia for that. It was only natural. The bigger takeaway from this job was things had to change. Procedure and tactics required tweaking. He needed to read his clients better. Not all of them were cut out for killing or, for that matter, competent at it. It was all about truly understanding their pressure points. To control someone, you had to know how to squeeze them. He used to know it. Maybe he’d gotten complacent.
>
Where are you, Olivia? he thought. Injured or hurt? As much as he wanted to forget her and move on, he couldn’t. She’d killed Carrington. He’d have to finish what Carrington started. He didn’t have a choice.
His intercom crackled. The words came through garbled and impossible to comprehend. He slung his legs off the desk and went over to the intercom.
He pressed the button. “I didn’t get that. Say again.”
More garbled words.
“Luis, I can’t hear you. I’m busy.”
Luis said something. Roy could only make out one word in three, and he couldn’t get a handle on what was being said, but he didn’t have to. He already knew what the problem was—Beth. It was his own fault. He’d come home and given her the CliffsNotes version of what happened, patted her on the head, and sent her off to bed. She hated it when he ignored her.
“Okay, I’m opening up,” he said, unlocking the door.
As he pulled it open, a man swung a baton at his face. He cocked his head and took the blow on the side of the neck. The blond man hurled himself at Roy, and the two of them went crashing to the ground.
Roy recognized this guy. It was that construction-crew boss who’d bawled out his guys after they’d crashed into his Chrysler at the bottom of Skyline. What the hell is going on? The answer didn’t matter right this second. What mattered was kicking this guy’s ass.
Roy lunged for the blond, but he recovered fast and hit Roy with an onslaught of baton blows. One connected with the back of his hand. Another struck him across his forearm. The one to his forehead made its mark. The pain was as searing as it was disorienting.
A single thought whistled through his brain. Who the fuck is this guy?
Roy got his wits back just as the baton came down toward his face again. He snatched the blond’s wrist and yanked his arm forward, unbalancing him. When the guy toppled forward, Roy threw him off and scrabbled to his feet.
It was time to return the favor. He rushed forward and kicked the blond in the side of the head. The impact sent the guy rolling across the floor. To his credit, the blond was down but he wasn’t out. He was slow getting up, but that was okay because Roy wanted to take his time with this guy.