by Dana Killion
Candiss stood between Olivia and Nadell. “Olivia,” she said. “Put down the gun. He knows what he’s done to you. We’ve punished him.”
Watching in horror at the events playing out before me, I dialed 911. Nadell huffed, sweat dripping from his red face, and possibly on the verge of a heart attack, as his wife tried to diffuse the situation. Candiss stepped closer, easing her way toward Olivia, her hands up and open in front of her.
My heart raced as I watched, frozen in place, reliving the incident with Seth, reliving Erik’s death. The past raced through my mind as if it were all happening again. All I could see was the gun firmly in Olivia’s hands. The voice of the 911 operator, pulled me back to the present. Sirens wailed faintly in the background.
“Olivia, please, put down the gun,” I said, my voice shaky. “He can’t hurt you anymore.” She turned to me as she heard the sound of my voice, but her face was a mask of pain and rage. In that moment of distraction, Candiss rushed forward, reaching for the gun. A shot rang out jolting me with its intensity. I watched Candiss fall to the floor, as if in slow motion, a pool of blood growing around her.
Her husband stared at her with blank eyes as CPD burst in seizing Olivia. EMT’s rushing in behind them. I fell to my knees, my body no longer able to support itself.
Candiss lay on the floor, contorted in pain as the EMT’s worked to control the bleeding from a bullet to her stomach. Her eyes locked on mine as they attended to her, and her mouth opened, releasing only hollow gasps. I found myself unable to turn away as if maintaining the bond in our gaze would somehow give her strength.
Around us I could hear conversation, sense movement out of the corner of my eye that told me Olivia had dissolved into a puddle of sobs as she was cuffed and led away, so wracked by pain I could hear the shuffling of her feet as walking became difficult. Additional officers arrived, corralling the guests, moving them out of the way of the technicians. Nadell was silent refusing to speak as he too was escorted to CPD headquarters. His bail would be revoked and the reality of the charges facing him would set in as he spent the first of many nights in jail.
An EMT leaned over Candiss, cutting away her dress, applying pressure to the wound as she wheezed, reaching out a hand toward me. I stayed on the floor, my eyes still fixed on hers, and willing her to live as her body shuddered and her eyes flickered closed.
She was alive, but it seemed barely.
42
It had been twelve hours since I’d shown up at the Nadell’s home last night and I was now nursing some weak tea in a waiting room at Northwestern Hospital. Candiss had been rushed immediately into surgery in critical condition and I had come over first thing this morning hoping for an update. The hours after the incident had been an endless parade of questions by detectives, and phone calls from Borkowski, Brynn, friends, and family as the news got out. Sleep became more a wish than a reality.
Sorting through the backstory of these overlapping lives was going to require visual aids. As I thought about the connection between Olivia and Nadell, I imagined a complex family tree of people and companies and greed all intersecting like a bad made-for-TV movie. But there was something about the exchange between Candiss and Olivia that had haunted me all evening. Candiss had said, “we’ve punished him.” Could she have had a role in this? I also remembered Olivia telling me that one of her customers at the Waldorf had helped her get a job at VTF. That certainly sounded like Candiss. A staggering thought crossed my mind. Was it possible that she had known about Olivia all along?
I sat on a sofa, my head in my hands, eyes closed, thinking about the implications.
“How are you?”
I lifted my head. Michael was kneeling on the floor next to me. His face tired and full of worry. I sat up and opened my mouth to speak. Instead, Michael pulled me into his arms. Neither one of us needing another word. Not right now. I stayed in the comfort of his embrace, feeling his warmth, and my body relax into his.
“I’m waiting for some news about Candiss,” I said, pulling away. “Have you gotten an update?”
He nodded. Running his hand through his hair. “The surgery was successful. They’ve upgraded her to stable condition. I’m waiting to see her.”
I let out a breath feeling the tension in my body release. “Thank goodness.”
A nurse approached. “You can go in now, but keep it brief.”
“Thank you,” Michael said, getting to his feet. “Would you like to join me?”
I nodded and followed him down the hall.
We found Candiss in her bed. Pale and disheveled. Her eyes were closed, but she opened them when she heard me.
“Lovely party wasn’t it?” she squeaked out, her voice wavering. “My guests will be talking about this one for years. Every hostess’ dream.” She gave us a weak smile.
“How are you feeling? Can I get you anything?” I asked, looking around for a water bottle, not knowing what to do.
She shook her head. “They tell me I’ll be fine. Maybe I should ask for a room adjoining Seth? We can nurse our wounds together.
Michael and I looked at each other endless questions between us. But was she strong enough? I’d follow Michael’s lead.
“Have you locked up the despicable man I’m married to?” she said, addressing Michael.
“He’s behind bars.” Michael didn’t elaborate. “Are you up to a few questions?”
“Only a few?” A small smile curled her lips. “Go ahead. I’ll let you know if it’s too tiring. But help me lift the head of my bed first.”
I stepped over and pressed the control.
“Did you know about the belladonna?” Michael began.
“Goodness, no. And quite frankly, I doubt Seth did either. Aaron’s greed and poor judgement are his alone. We’ll spend a couple years issuing our mea culpas, institute an outside testing program for quality control and transparency, and over time, win back the trust of our customers.” I noted that her voice seemed to have gotten stronger talking about the business. But her commentary was confusing.
“Tylenol did it. We can too,” she added.
“We?” I looked at Candiss then at Michael, confused by her words of ownership and how quickly her thoughts had gone to her husbands’ business.
“We, as in VTF and Nadell Capital. I’m Nadell Capital,” she said. She motioned for a water bottle.
I pulled the tray over so she could reach it. “So you’re going to continue to filling in for Aaron, should he face jail time,” I said, trying to make sure I was hearing her accurately.
“I won’t be filling in for anyone ever again. The ownership of Nadell Capital is 100% mine, in fact, all of our assets are in my name. Homes, cars, investments, all of it. Aaron doesn’t have much more than the clothes on his back unless I decide to give it to him.”
Michael and I looked at each other again, confusion obvious in our faces.
“I can see you’ve missed some of the important details in this drama,” she paused for a drink. “Let me bring you up to speed. Ten years ago, when Aaron made the inevitable mess of the business, I had to come in and clean up after him. I know I told you a little of that story,” she said to me.
I nodded. A nurse came in to check on her IV as the heart monitor beeped quietly in the background. After she left, Candiss continued.
“Part of that cleanup was something I orchestrated, the transfer of assets. All of our assets to me individually. To protect us you see. Because obviously the impulsive prick I was married to was incapable of controlling himself or his business. We were going to lose it all. The assets are held in a trust. So the company is mine to do with what I like.” A satisfied smile spread across her face.
Awareness hit me as I contemplated her words. She’d used the near bankruptcy to manipulate him.
“Did you know about Olivia?” Michael asked.
“When I was going through the books, I found old records of a home purchase. Something I knew nothing about. Imagine my surprise when I traced i
t. My husband was not only unable to control his company but where he put his dick.”
Even through the post-surgery malaise, I could see her face was filled with a mixture of disgust and strangely, a sense of pride.
“Do you know why I’m so passionate about Drea?” she asked. “It’s because I was one of those girls. Aaron didn’t rescue me, I rescued myself. But he showed me that there was another life. He, of all people, knows how close to my heart the subject of child abuse is, yet he tossed aside the woman he’d impregnated and abandoned his child as if they meant nothing to him.” She shuddered with the memory. “The irony of me being involved with Drea when my husband himself disowned a child…” Her face was hard now, the years of revulsion, showing themselves.
“Why didn’t you divorce him?” I stared at her, unable to wrap my head around what she was telling us. She’d known about Olivia and she’d known for years.
“Because then I wouldn’t get to see the look on his face when he finds out he’s going to jail. And that I’d gotten payback for his betrayal. His betrayal of me and of his illegitimate child. I didn’t know how it would happen, but I knew he’d make another risky move. He can’t help himself. Patience and discipline would get me there, it always does. All I had to do was sit back and watch him do what he does best, fail. But this time I wouldn’t clean up after him. I’d be the one putting my foot on the scale.”
A shadow of regret crossed her face while Michael and I listened, stunned by the revelation, stunned by her control, her planning, the willingness to wait.
“Of course, I never imagined people would die because of my husband’s greed.”
Her thoughts about her husband, the planning required, it seemed so compartmentalized. I couldn’t fathom how she’d live with the deaths. Would that be isolated and stored in a box too?
“And what about Olivia? Did she have a role in this?” Michael asked, his face had remained unmoved, but I saw the shadow of revulsion in his eyes.
“Only in a minor way. She simply became my eyes. Unfortunately, she struggles to control her anger. She’s young.”
“What happens now?” I asked Candiss. My mind was shooting all over trying to understand but the cold, hard, manipulation was beyond me.
“Aaron goes to jail. I divorce him, leaving him with nothing, and run Nadell Capital properly.”
“That leaves Olivia in quite a mess.” Michael said.
“She’s a lovely girl who hasn’t yet learned self-restraint,” Candiss said. “There will be some cleanup needed, of course, after last night. I’ll cover her legal bills, make it as easy as I can, and I’ve also set up a nice trust fund for her. She’ll be fine.”
I looked at Candiss and said sadly, “So you both got what you wanted. Revenge.”
My next thought was a wave of sadness. No man was worth the years she’d lost to all-consuming rage.
I sat in the Link-Media conference room three days later, listening to Borkowski beat up the staff for more content. Brynn and I smiled at each other across the table feeling slightly victorious with our co-authored lead story gracing today’s news blast. Suddenly the charges facing Aaron Nadell were far more serious than reckless endangerment. And with more to come as Luke Cavanugh had just authorized the exhumation of his daughters body.
Lane was out of the hospital, and out of danger, while my father had returned to his home in Milwaukee. For the first time in weeks, I was relaxed, happy, and looking forward to a leisurely dinner with Cai tonight at our favorite hangout, Nico. When I made the reservation, I warned them to expect a long, slow meal with lots of wine.
Things with Michael were still in flux but we had plans for tomorrow. Dinner only. Beyond that, time and lots of conversation would tell.
“Kellner, ya wanna pull yourself outta dreamland,” Borkowski bellowed. “I know you’re basking in the glow of another, kick-ass story, but can ya bring yourself down to earth long enough to get back on the horn with Ramelli about our budget approval?”
I looked around the room at the staff, watching me expectantly. Then giving Borkowski a big smile, I said, “Yes, boss. I’m on it.”
Feet firmly on the ground was exactly where I wanted to be.
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Also by Dana Killion
Fatal Choices - a free prequel short story
Lies in High Places - Andrea Kellner Book 1
The Last Lie - Andrea Kellner Book 2
Acknowledgments
Writing a novel involves months, sometimes years, of plotting, planning, and fretting over every word, and mine was no different. It also involves the support and dedication of good friends and loyal fans.
Many thanks to my writing pals Kari Bovee and Shelly Blanton-Stroud for your support. Anxious to see your books on the shelf!
Thanks to editors Nancy LaFever and Andrea Hurst for tightening my prose and my story.
To my boys, Alex and Zach, I hope you live dreams of your own. And finally, to my husband Theo, thank you for keeping me well supplied with fake sauce these past few months. You’ve become quite the chef. xoxo
About the Author
Dana Killion grew up in a small town in northern Wisconsin, reading Nancy Drew and dreaming of living surrounded by tall buildings. A career in the apparel industry satisfied her city living urge and Nancy Drew evolved into Cornwell, Fairstein, and Evanovich.
One day, frustrated that her favorite authors weren’t writing fast enough, an insane thought crossed her mind. “Maybe I could write a novel?”
Silly, naïve, downright ludicrous. But she did it. She plotted and planned and got 80,000 words on the page. That manuscript lives permanently in the back of a closet. But the writing bug had bitten.
The Last Lie is her second novel. Dana lives in Chicago and Florida with her husband and her kitty, Isabel, happily avoiding temperatures below fifty.
www.danakillion.com
Copyright © 2018 by Dana Killion
Published by Obscura Press
ISBN-13: 978-0-9991874-2-5
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