“Where’s the den?” Bradford whispered.
“Down that hall, last room on the right.”
“Okay. Go. Make it quick.”
Flicking on her own flashlight, Sam took the stairs two at a time, bursting into the bedroom. She gave the room a quick scan. Nothing had changed. Everything was in order, bed neatly made, no dirty clothes littering the floor, nothing cluttering up the tops of the dressers or desk.
“Same old control freak,” Sam muttered while heading straight to the desk.
Pulling with care, she opened the middle drawer, searching for the thick silver key with a blue tag like she remembered seeing. She found it pushed to the very back of the space, resting next to several yellow legal pads stacked together, a wad of rubber bands wound tight, a cluster of paper clips and four pens lined side-by-side. With careful precision, she reached inside, grabbing the key without disturbing the other contents.
The worry, fear and guilt from earlier disappeared, knowing she was rifling through Richard’s possessions without his knowledge.
Once in front of the trunk at the edge of the bed, she opened the lid. Grimacing as the hinges creaked she inserted the key into the lockbox.
A checkbook, blank checks, numerous bundles of cash, several sets of keys and five flash drives sat inside. Sitting back on her haunches, she furrowed her brow. “Shit! Which one is it, or are these all copies of the original? Oh, screw it. He’ll know soon enough I was here anyway. I’m taking them all—to be safe.”
Snatching the small pieces of plastic, she stuffed them into her bra. After locking the little safe, the lid was halfway closed when she dropped the flashlight. It landed next to something she recognized yet she couldn’t get her brain to comprehend the image.
“No freaking way!”
Putting the light between her teeth, Sam hefted out the cardboard box, setting it and the key next to her on the floor. Without thinking, she let go of the lid. It made a loud thump when it closed.
Flipping through the files, she was so freaked out she started shaking. “You sonofabitch! You were in my basement and stole Dr. Halstead’s records! This solves one mystery yet not another. Unbelievable.”
Rising to her feet, Sam went to the closet, no longer caring whether she moved or disturbed anything. Spotting the camera and other recording equipment sitting on top of a mound of stacked shoeboxes, she yanked open the camera, extracting the memory card.
She knew they were supposed to leave no traces they had been inside.
She didn’t care.
Rage took over, controlling her limbs as though a morbid puppeteer. Throwing the camera with all her might against the hardwood floor, she laughed at the sound of the lens shattering. She followed the action by stomping on the expensive piece of equipment until it was damaged beyond repair.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Ignoring Bradford’s whispered question, Sam reached for another, smaller camera. “Something I should have done last year.”
Grabbing Samantha’s arm, Bradford yanked her out of the closet. “Now’s not the time. This is a search and retrieve mission only—not destroy. Move.”
Slamming the door shut, Sam walked over to the old cardboard box. Bending down, she picked it up. “He’s been inside my house! Well, under my house. Now, we’re even.”
“Pontificate later. We’re at seven minutes.”
Racing down the stairs, Bradford took the box from Samantha then dashed outside, disappearing into the darkness. Closing the front door, Sam went back to the keypad and hit away then slipped outside, locking the door before joining Bradford in the car.
Adrenaline sped through her system. Combined with the euphoria of the stealthy accomplishment, Sam enjoyed the high. Bradford didn’t say a word as he turned around in the driveway. Once at the bottom of the hill, he turned left, backtracking the way they arrived. They were several minutes into the journey before he turned the headlights on.
“Tell me about the box. What’s in it?”
“Old medical records Dr. Halstead stashed in the basement. I found them several months ago during construction. I planned on shredding them but got sidetracked. The bastard beat me to it.”
“Basement? I thought your house sat on a crawlspace?”
“Yeah, so did everyone else, including the city.”
“Interesting. Huh. I guess some of the rumors about the ol’ Doc were true, at least the ones about babies.”
Sam nodded. “Right. What other reason would Richard have the box stashed away if it didn’t contain birth records? How in the world did he find out? He’s from Jonesboro, not Hot Springs. I can’t imagine the stories of some old doctor’s odd shenanigans spread that far.”
“Oh, child. The digital age we live in now may be fast but can’t hold a candle to mouth-to-ear gossip of the past. And if the tale was juicy, the speed increased. How Richard found out is something we need to figure out for sure. However, there’s another, more pressing item on the agenda now.”
Sam fidgeted in the seat while removing the booties. “If you mean Kip and Kathy, there’s a great plan rolling around inside my head for those two losers.”
“Their situation has moved down a few rungs on the ‘oh shit-ladder’. No, I mean Richard’s obsession with you.”
Sam heard the heaviness in Bradford’s voice. “Why are you acting as though that’s something new?”
Bradford took a deep breath. “The video was loaded into the cloud yet unpublished. I deleted it and deactivated the account.”
“Can’t he reactivate it?”
“He could if he knew the updated security question I entered before deactivation. When he enters the name of his first pet, it won’t work because I put in mine.”
Sam chuckled. “Nice one. You’re quite tech savvy. I, on the other hand, detest technology. Well, the social media part of it. I find it rather impersonal.”
“I’m aware. Your last post on social media was months ago. I checked. Even so, I suggest you set your Facebook account to private and make sure no one can tag you unless you approve.”
“Okay. You might need to show me how. Again, not tech savvy.”
Bradford nodded. “Of course. Don’t worry. I wiped his hard drive clean and took all the memory cards I found in and around the computer.”
“Great!” Sam interrupted. The heavy weight of fear finally lifted off her chest. For the first time in almost two years, she felt the budding warmth of safety.
“We accomplished stage one of our plan yet breaking into his house also gave me a bird’s eye view of his plans. The den was covered in pictures of you. I mean covered. Judging by the scenery and your attire, some of them were taken during the last few days. There were five whiteboards crammed full of images, most shot from a distance, each in various locations.”
“Bastard.”
“No doubt. Some were at your house, Charmaine’s, Suzy’s, hell, even at Best Buy. The sixth board was full of detailed notes about your daily activities, from the time you get up until you go to bed. Either he’s hired a PI to keep tabs on you or he’s missed a lot of work while stalking you. He’s not going to stop. Ever. Your scent is imprinted now.”
The giddiness from seconds before vanished. Sam thought about the conversation at her mother’s earlier. At the time, she cringed at the idea, hell, part of her even felt sickened by the thought of plotting, and carrying out, cold-blooded murder. With the newest revelation, the ethical side of her brain whispering not to sink to Richard’s level was but a faint murmur.
Killing him seemed the only option to end the nightmare. The thought made her stomach flutter. She fought the urge to throw up again.
Bradford sensed Samantha’s tension. He opted not to mention the hidden cameras he found inside the house. “Listen, I didn’t share the tidbit of news to freak you out. I told you because it’s time to morph over to paranoid diligence. You’re more than a target—you’re his obsession. All of the bastard’s energy and time is laser-beam
ed focused on you.”
“I’m aware.” Sam clenched her jaw.
“Are my ears playing tricks or was do I detect anger in your voice?”
“I’m no longer afraid of him, Bradford. I’m holding the cards now, so to speak.”
“Good! Though I hate saying it, I can’t shake the gut feeling you, and possibly any others in his way to regain control, are in danger. Fear is what monsters like Richard thrive on. Like all monsters, only a mortal blow will stop them. Are you prepared to take his life?”
Sam wanted to say yes yet couldn’t get the foreign, damming word to form. Instead, she nodded once.
“Good, because I promise you, Richard has already crossed the bridge to the dark side.”
THE HOUSE WAS dark as they pulled into the parking lot. Early streaks of yellow and orange from the rising sun crept over West Mountain. Sam hoped the absence of light inside her place meant her loved ones inside were still asleep, unaware they’d been gone for almost three hours.
Bradford took the box from the backseat then followed Sam up the steps. Once inside, both paused in the foyer, listening for any sounds or movement from upstairs.
Hearing nothing, Sam let out a sigh of relief. “You’re sure we’re not being recorded, right?”
“We are, but again, it’s not uploading to his phone. Besides, I turned it off before we left.”
“Okay, just making sure.” Sam pointed to the shred bin. “Help me put the files in there. I’ll call later this morning to schedule a pickup.”
“You’re sure you don’t want to…?”
“I’m sure, Bradford. I don’t want anyone else to get their hands on these damning records then use them to fuck-up the lives of others. Destroying them is for the best. There’s a reason these were kept secret, and it’s not up to us to reveal the hidden nightmares. Look what damage has been caused by one.”
“It’s your call, not mine.”
Walking over to the locked bin, they took turns dumping in the old papers. Bradford tossed the memory cards. Sam pulled the flash drives from her bra.
“Aren’t you going to look at them first—make sure they contain the video?”
“Yes, I’m just steeling my resolve to watch them. I puked once. I don’t relish the idea of doing it again.”
“You need to make sure. It’s time I leave anyway. Like we discussed on the way here, I’ll go get Kip and dump him in his truck before taking the samples to my contact. Since the rest are still sleeping, you can hurry up and check the drives. You won’t need to watch the entire thing again. Just a brief blip and then you’ll know.”
Sam’s fingers tightened around the drives. “You’re right. Thanks for understanding I need to do this alone.”
“Not a problem.”
Glancing up the stairs, Sam sighed. “Do you really think he won’t remember coming over or what he found?”
“Drunks like Kip drink until their brain’s swimming in so much booze they’re lucky if they recall what they were doing prior to drinking. Don’t worry. I’ll ask appropriate questions, and based upon his answers, give him some false memories. Think of me as one of the Men in Black.”
Sam noted the teasing gleam and kindness behind his eyes. There was also a smidgeon of worry and a lot of weariness. She knew the entire debacle was difficult on him as well. “I hope you’re right. You’re a gem, Bradford. I can’t thank you enough for all you did for me, Mom, and all of us.”
“Don’t thank me yet, at least not until the test results come back. If the Chapman family draws the short stick, you’ll cuss me so hard a drunken sailor would blush.”
Sam chuckled. “No, I wouldn’t. Do you want some help with Kip?”
“Nope. Not my first time wrestling a trashed Hale man around after a night out carousing. Go do what you need and I’ll take care of the drunk.”
Bradford went upstairs. Sam noticed his steps were slower than before, body moving with stiff, jerky movements. She was exhausted, so Bradford had to be running on fumes.
Heading to her office, mindful of the hidden camera, she kept silent while turning on the laptop. She was a bundle of nerves. It took three attempts to insert the first flash drive.
The sounds of Bradford rousting Kip barely registered as she clicked on the only file on the first drive. The second the video started, she recognized the bedroom. Bile rose up in her throat as shame, humiliation, and rage made her body tremble.
Yanking the flash drive out, she replaced it with another. By the time she made it to the fifth and final one, Bradford was whispering gibberish to Kip as they clomped down the stairs.
Sam was beyond livid after starting the last video. “You sorry prick! I’ll make you pay for this like I should have in the very beginning. Bradford is right—I counted on a piece of paper to keep me safe. Not anymore.”
As the front door closed, Sam rose from the chair. Stomping into the reception area, she threw the incriminating devices into the shred bin. She heard Bradford’s car start so she walked over to the window, watching as he pulled out onto the street. Once he was gone, she headed upstairs, beyond ready to take a long, hot shower before hitting the sack.
Thank you, God, for bringing this man into our lives. Forgive me for saying it, but please, let him be Kip’s father—or the other man. Not Big Sam. Not Pop. I don’t know how much more we can handle. Please?
At the top of the stairs, Wee Thing wound around her legs while letting out a few, feeble meows. Scooping up the fluffy bundle, Sam smothered the kitty in kisses as she reached the door to her room.
Turning the knob with care, she peeked inside. Her mother and Suzy were lightly snoring. Resa stirred, opening her bleary eyes. Sam held a finger to her lips while motioning for her to get up.
Resa rose from the bed and crept out into the hallway, easing the door closed so not to disturb the others. “I thought I heard you. Why’re you up so early? And dressed in black? What’s going on?”
Though exhausted beyond words, Sam’s grin grew wide while staring at her disheveled best friend. She motioned for her to come closer. “Shhh. Keep your voice at a low whisper. Kip bugged the place.”
“Oh, shit.”
“Long story so I’ll skip to the ending—I got the original video and all copies.”
Resa’s hands flew to her mouth to keep in the gasp of shock and glee. A well of tears filled her eyes as her shoulders sagged with relief.
Sam held a finger to her lips as a reminder to remain quiet. “The worry is over. Richard can’t release what he doesn’t have.”
Resa whispered through her tears, “Are you serious?”
A surge of pride warmed Sam’s chest. “Dead serious.”
“What did you do, break into his house or something while we slept? Is that why you’re dressed like an assassin? Did you go alone or did Bradford join you?”
“It’s late. I’m pooped and need a hot shower and about six hours of solid sleep. I’ll tell you the entire tale later. Promise. We don’t have to fret any longer. Of course, Richard’s going to be pissed when he finds out, but we’ll worry about that later. I need sleep before my brain shuts down.”
Resa couldn’t contain her excitement. She bounced up and down like a little kid at Christmas. “Oh, Sam! I can’t believe it! I feel like a two-ton weight’s been lifted off my chest! Thank you!”
Throwing her arms around Sam’s neck, Resa hugged her tight. In seconds, Sam’s shoulder was soggy from Resa’s wet tears soaking through the material.
“Me too, my friend. Me too.”
“I love you. I …I don’t know what else to say.”
Pulling away from Resa’s embrace, Sam gave her a weary grin. “Say goodnight. I’m skipping the shower. Pillow time with Mom and Suzy. Oh, and I love you too. It’s all downhill from here, my friend. All downhill.”
“It won’t ever be over until he’s…”
“Don’t.” Sam shook her head. “Not now. Listen, if I’m out when Mom or Suzy wakes up, will you take them home? Th
e keys to my Tahoe are on my desk downstairs.”
“Of course. Go. The sooner you rest, the sooner you’ll be up, which means I can grill you about your evening, er, well, morning.”
“OKAY KIP. HOME sweet home. Need some help getting inside?”
Kip heard the words from a somewhat familiar voice, yet they didn’t really register. Who the hell was talking to him? What did he mean? It took him several seconds to get his vision into focus. His mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton and his head throbbed in time with his heartbeat. “I, uh…I’m not sure.”
Handing Kip his cell phone, Bradford smiled. “You had yourself quite a night. The hangover’s gonna be rough. Better get yourself inside and start pounding water to rehydrate.”
Blinking twice, Kip stared at the man sitting in the driver’s seat dressed in all black. “Damn, you look like the Grim Reaper. Sheriff Wilson, right?”
“At one time, yes. Now I’m Mr. Wilson. Grim Reaper. Ha, ha. Good one.”
Rubbing his temples, grimacing at the rank odor rising from his body, Kip moaned while pocketing his phone. “Did I get arrested or something? What’s today?”
Bradford chuckled. “Yep, you were on a bender all right. It’s early Thursday morning. As far as I know, you didn’t get tossed into the slammer. However, I have no idea what you were doing before I got involved.”
Glancing out the window to his house, Kip noticed the door was wide open, his truck parked in front of the garage. He tried, yet couldn’t recall, what happened the night before. The only memory he latched onto was attending Caroline Chapman’s funeral.
Damn. Grandma’s funeral. I came straight home and hit the bottle. Hard. But, then what? “Did I call you?”
Opening the driver’s door, Bradford replied over his shoulder, “Nope. Sam Chapman did.”
Kip’s stomach rolled as he exited the car, following Bradford up the steps. He made a mental note to check his phone for videos once Bradford left. “Excuse me?”
“Yep. You showed up at her place in the middle of the night. You scared the living bejesus out of her by pounding on the door then passing smooth out on the porch. Don’t you remember?”
Fatal Agreements Page 23