I don’t know how long we were frozen in our places like two prehistoric creatures encrusted in ice, but when he finally took a calm, unhurried step deeper into the cabin, the spell his arrival had put me under lost its power. My hand, which had been on the rough surface of Marlette’s makeshift table, could once again register the feel of its coarse texture. I took in a fortifying breath of pine and damp soil, which seemed to invoke Marlette’s presence with such intensity that I felt as though he could be standing right next to me. It was as if he were in the cabin, wordlessly reminding me that he had been murdered, cautioning me to wake up and act.
My fingers reached out and closed around the walking stick leaning against the desk, but I never broke eye contact with Carson.
He took a second step toward me, his mouth curving upward into a chilling smile.
I wondered if Luella had seen the same smile the day she’d died. I didn’t need Carson to tell me what had happened—the cold gleam in his eyes and the hulking shape of his shoulders served as his confession. He was a killer.
Carson’s hands curled into loose fists at his sides, becoming twin cobras waiting to strike.
He had not come to talk.
He had come to see that I would never speak again.
Marlette’s walking stick had a polished knob at its crown, and it fit perfectly against my palm. I took comfort in its solidness and then slid my hands down the shaft, positioning my arms so that I could lash out with the knob the moment Carson reached for me.
“Now, Lila.” His predatory gaze turned smug. “Do you really think you can stop me with that thing?”
I gripped my weapon tightly and answered him in a voice made steady by anger. “I’m sure as hell going to try. You can’t sneak up on me. I’m not turning my back on you like Luella did.”
He laughed a dry, brittle laugh, the expectant glimmer in his eyes shredding my confidence. “I didn’t think I had it in me, you know. To take someone’s life. But she forced my hand. All this time she’s hidden things from me. Her real name. A copy of the bum’s manuscript. Not the original, of course, but she told me the photocopied manuscript was her insurance and that after I paid her a ridiculous amount of money, we’d burn it in her fireplace and make love as it went up in flames.”
I frowned in distaste at the warped relationship those two had shared and waited for him to move within striking distance. Luella had been a fool to think she could go on mani-pulating Carson once he discovered her duplicity. Her arrogance had no bounds.
“You were beautiful, Luella. Oh yes, I enjoyed our time together, but I never loved you.” He glanced over my shoulder, no longer seeing me. “You thought I was in your control, but I will never be anyone’s puppet again. No one’s employee. No one’s errand boy. Even though I never found that damned copy, you haven’t won. I’ve won!” He reached behind him with his left hand and pulled out something from his back pocket. Even in the dimness, I recognized that it was a notebook with a red cover.
“You have Marlette’s notebook?” I asked breathlessly, feeling as though I’d been punched in the stomach.
Flipping the pages irreverently, he let loose a haughty snort. “Of course. Luella took the original manuscript from Jude’s file cabinet, and I put that fat stack of pages through a shredder at the copy center. Bye-bye, evidence. And as far as Luella’s insurance? I’m not worried about some supposed photocopy. I certainly made sure that she could never breathe a word about it to anyone. Ever.” He wiggled his long fingers. In the shadows, they resembled the spindly legs of a tarantula. “After I got rid of both the original manuscript and Luella, I came back here to search for any other incriminating tidbits, and I found this.”
“Why did you keep it?” My eyes darted to the book. “Why not destroy it, too?”
He stroked the red cover affectionately. “The bum outlined a sequel. The Babylonian Society. I can hire a ghostwriter. Despite what you may think, this isn’t over for me. This is just the beginning. Too bad you won’t be around to see me living the life of a rich and famous author.”
I shook my head incredulously. “You’re going to get caught.”
“The cops don’t have enough on me. So they find my prints at Luella’s place. So I admit that I was her lover. That’s as far as it will go. If anything, keeping me in jail for a few days will make me more of a media draw.” He grinned greedily. “More press means more sales. More money for me. I am never going to be poor again. This is the end of shithole apartments and rusted-out cars. The end of cheap clothes and crappy food. It’s my turn. I’ve waited long enough for this break.”
Carson’s eyes had filmed over with a temporary madness, and I dared to look at the doorway to see if I could get by him and outside before he surfaced from his trancelike state. The moment I tensed my body to spring forward, he blinked and pointed at me with his index finger.
“Tsk, tsk. Naughty Lila. No running, no screaming.” His gaze bore into me, and his right hand sank into his pants pocket and drew forth a loaded syringe. Tossing the notebook aside, he held up the needle. The last rays of the sinking sun caught the splinter of steel, and it winked like Christmas tinsel.
This image sent my thoughts careening into the past, and a dozen Christmases flickered in my memory. Trey in footed pajamas, Trey dumping out his filled stocking onto the living room rug, Trey sipping hot chocolate as I read him ’Twas the Night Before Christmas, Trey singing carols in the school choir, his rosebud mouth forming a perfect O, Trey barreling into my arms to thank me for the remote control dump truck he had wanted so badly.
These memories fueled my courage. “You’re not going to take me down with bee venom, Carson. I’m assuming that’s what you’ve loaded into your little syringe, because you’re not creative enough to think up an original murder weapon.”
Carson’s features twisted with fury, and then he abruptly laughed again. “Who needs to be original? I don’t want to make a mess, and Luella proved how easy it is to kill someone with this stuff. She was more than willing to bump off that old piece of human trash.” His smile turned into a leer. “And then you had to stick your nose where it didn’t belong. You!” He spat the word. “A pathetic, middle-aged intern. A nobody.” His speech slowed to a crawl. “You ruined everything.”
“But I’m not allergic. It won’t kill me.” I clung to the hope that this would stop him, or at least give him doubts.
His eyes flashed. “You don’t have to be allergic. Ever heard of mass envenomation?” He tapped the syringe. “This contains the equivalent of a thousand bee stings and can easily kill a healthy human. You’ll die of renal failure.” He shook his head in mock sorrow. “Such a terrible way to go.”
His mercurial shifts of emotion revealed a person the likes of which I’d never known. In the shadows multiplying inside the cabin, Carson seemed less and less of a human being. His nonchalance when referring to his plans to plunge a hypodermic into my neck lent him an alien crookedness. He had turned into a nightmare creature with a dark face and angular limbs. And what could I do against him? Stall for time. For what, I didn’t know, but it was an instinctual defense. I was the cornered rabbit, trying to distract the cat before it could spring.
And then, without a whisper of warning, he lunged.
I reacted instantly, swinging the walking stick in a powerful arc toward Carson’s head. He dodged, nimble as a boxer, and my blow connected with his shoulder instead.
He grunted in pain and hesitated, allowing me the opportunity to hit him again. This time, he stepped away from the stick, but the knob came down hard on his wrist, and in a spasm of agony, Carson dropped the needle.
Seeing it skate across the floor, I knew this might be the only chance I’d have to escape, so I jumped over his crunched-up form and moved to break into a run.
I didn’t even make it to the doorway.
Carson’s uninjured hand shot out, his fingers locking onto my calf like a vise. He was incredibly strong, and I cried out as he yanked me backward, draw
ing me into his chest like a spider retrieving the stunned fly.
I screamed as loud as I could. My mind emptied of all thought, and my body took over—kicking, twisting, shouting—and when Carson clamped a hand over my mouth, I wrenched my face to the side and bit down hard on his finger.
It was as if he could no longer feel anything but the desire to silence me, to spend his wrath robbing me of life. He pushed me down onto Marlette’s pile of blankets, sending mini hurricanes of dirt and dust into the air. Then, to my horror, he held up the syringe once again.
Seeing the needle sent me into a frenzied panic. I bucked and howled, clawing at him, kicking him, squirming to the left and right, but he straddled my chest with his legs and pinned down my arms. He leaned forward, crushing me under his full weight. My breath was forced out of my lungs, and without fresh oxygen, I had no strength to fight back.
Above me, Carson smiled with satisfaction.
“Say good night, Lila.”
I wanted to say so many things. I wanted to beg him to stop, I wanted to speak my son’s name once more, I wanted to spit in Carson’s face. But his hand clamped down over my mouth.
I had lost.
I was going to die.
“FREEZE!” a voice bellowed from across the room, and then, in a matter of seconds, the weight was lifted from my chest. As I sucked in air, I heard scuffles inside the cabin, but I couldn’t move. It was as if I were still being held down. Spots danced before my eyes.
After a few seconds, I heard the voices of several men, and I raised a hand to tentatively touch my throbbing cheek. I could feel the bruised flesh where Carson’s fingertips had dug into the tender tissue.
This awareness—that I could feel pain, that breath was rushing in and out of my lungs—allowed my vision to clear. I had survived. I was alive!
Sean appeared at my side, murmuring words of comfort while he helped me sit up. “Are you hurt? Do you need medical care?” he asked urgently, his eyes searching my body, his hands centimeters from my tear-streaked face.
I opened my mouth, but too many emotions were battling inside, and I couldn’t talk. With trembling arms, I reached for Sean. He enfolded me gently, but I clung to him fiercely, my tears wetting his shirt.
His lips touched the back of my hands, my neck, my bruised cheeks, my eyelids. They traveled to my forehead and then found my lips.
I kissed him hungrily. He had rescued me. This man, full of strength and intelligence, was my hero. Sean had made certain that I could remain a mother, a daughter, a friend. He had swept in and tackled a coldhearted killer, preserving my life in the process.
My desire for him had existed long before this moment. It was just that now, I didn’t stop to consider whether the time was right or who was witnessing our embrace. The rest of the world fell away in the circle of his arms. I lost myself in the warmth of his mouth, drinking in the taste of him—peppermint, safety, strength.
“MOM!” Trey’s urgent shout forced me to break off the kiss.
I reached out for Trey with both arms, and my son sank down on the ground in front of me and held me tightly.
“Honey, I’m okay,” I whispered.
Trey’s handsome face was creased with worry. I could see the fear in his eyes. Even though it was obvious I was only a little bruised and battered, he had never seen me in such a state. To him, I was the person who never got hurt or sick or succumbed to weakness in his presence. I was the constant in his life, and it had clearly terrified him to hear that I had come so close to death.
“Mom,” he croaked and put his head on my lap. I stroked my son’s hair and murmured soothingly to him, saying a silent prayer of thanks that I had not been separated from my boy.
LATER, AS WE sat in front of the campfire Trey had built near the co-op’s living quarters, I looked from the flames into Sean’s blue eyes. “How did you know to come for me?” I asked him.
The rest of the police officers had gone back to Dunston, but Sean had stayed behind to make certain that I was okay. Seated with his arms resting on his thighs, he poked at the small campfire with a stick. “We’ve been tailing Knight all day. Followed his car right to the base of Red Fox Mountain but lost him in the forest. He didn’t take the main path, and there are so many trails up here…” It clearly bothered Sean to admit that his suspect had given him the slip. “Luella must have shown Carson how to reach Marlette’s cabin without running into anyone from the co-op. By the time we reached this area and Jasper told us where you were headed, I knew you were in danger.”
Trey gave Sean a nudge with his elbow. “Jasper said you ran through the woods like a deer. Not bad for a guy your age.”
Sean smiled at the playful jest. “I’d be more fleet-footed if I didn’t eat Makayla’s scones every time I came to town.”
Though I was delighted to see the burgeoning camaraderie between Sean and my son, I was unable to share in any expressions of joviality. It was just too soon. “Sean, I need to know…Is Carson going to jail for a long time, or is there a chance that some hotshot lawyer will get him off?”
Sean put his hand over mine. “His prints need to match the ones we found on Luella’s Eros statue if a murder charge is going to stick. He’s facing a string of charges based on what he did tonight, but I want to bury him using as much indisputable evidence as I can, and a print match could help seal the deal.”
I nodded. Carson’s fate was as of yet undetermined. And what of mine?
As if reading my thoughts, Trey said, “Are you going back to Novel Idea, Mom? I mean—you’ve met some real losers working there.”
“At least one loser, that’s for sure. But yes, I plan on returning—tomorrow, in fact, because Bentley has asked us to come in for a Saturday meeting after all that has happened this week. She also mentioned that she wants to talk to me about something, and I have a feeling it’s important.”
Despite all that had happened, I wanted to be a literary agent. I wanted to discover fresh voices and unique plotlines. I wanted to read the untold stories—those gems brought to the surface so that they glimmered in the light. Stories destined to be shared with the world. “I belong there,” I added, giving Trey a smile.
He glanced beyond the campfire, his gaze finding Iris as she and other co-op members set out food for supper. “I get that.” His eyes returned to me. “But if anyone ever tries to hurt you again, they’ll have to answer to me!”
Sean clapped Trey on the shoulder. “Good man.”
At that moment, Iris approached our intimate little circle and offered me a mug of black coffee and a piece of toast. I accepted the food but caught her by her slender arm before she could retreat.
“Why didn’t you tell me about the red notebook sooner?” I demanded, refusing to let her pull away.
Her birch pale cheeks filled with color. “I’m sorry! I never meant to put you in danger. It’s just that pretty soon after I showed you Marlette’s birdhouse in the meadow, someone trashed his cabin.” Her arm went limp. “I didn’t know whether I could trust you after that happened. After all, no one else but you and the cops came up here asking questions about him.” She shot Trey an apologetic look.
“So you told my son about the red notebook today just to see if I would go looking for it?”
Iris nodded miserably. “It was a test. If you didn’t search for it, I’d know you already tore apart his cabin and took the notebook, but if you went looking for it with Trey, I’d know that someone else stole it.” She sighed. “I should have hidden the red notebook before the place got trashed. I was planning to tell you everything after you guys got back from the cabin, but I didn’t think…I never thought the person who took the notebook would follow you here. I’m really sorry.”
I squeezed her gently and then let her go. “You were just trying to respect Marlette’s memory by protecting his possessions. You’re the only other person who genuinely cared about him, and I don’t blame you for what happened tonight. Not for a second.” I managed a weary smile.
>
Sean, who had been prodding at the fire during this exchange, got to his feet and brushed my shoulder tenderly with his fingertips. “Are you up to confirming your statement tonight? Or would you like Trey to drive you to Dunston first thing in the morning?”
Trey’s eyes were wide with pleading, and I knew he wanted to act as my guardian for a while. “We’ll have some supper, and then I’ll decide. I’m not really hungry, but eating will help me feel normal again, and I have a feeling the food here is better than what you’ve got in your vending machines.”
That earned me a chuckle. Sean patted his belly and said, “Body by Frito-Lay.”
The laughter welled up inside me and poured from my throat like a bubbling spring. I couldn’t help it. Relief was showing itself through uncontrollable giggles that turned into hearty, deep-bellied laughter. I’d already trembled, cried, kissed a good-looking police officer, and cradled my son’s head in my lap. The pure joy of being alive overtook me, and I let it flow forth. Trey and Sean joined in.
Chapter 16
THE NEXT MORNING I WAS AWAKENED FROM A SLEEP SO deep and dreamless that finding my way to consciousness was like dragging myself through molasses. I opened my eyes, trying to discern what had roused me.
“Mom?” Trey peeked his head around the door. “Sorry to wake you, but it’s getting late and I need to bring the truck back to the co-op.”
I rolled over, squinted at him, and then let my heavy lids fall shut again. “What time is it?” My words came out in a gravelly mumble.
“Eight. Didn’t you tell Officer Griffiths you’d be at the station by nine?”
I rolled over, wanting nothing more than to crawl back into the numbness of sleep. Only the fact that I would see Sean again prompted me to reply, “Okay, I’ll be down in fifteen minutes.”
Under the streaming water in the shower, last night’s events played through my mind. The image of Carson hovering over me with the needle made me shudder. I turned the shower knob, coaxing the water to turn hotter, and tried to focus on the memory of sitting by the campfire instead of being trapped inside Marlette’s cabin with a killer.
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