Breathing a sigh of relief upon hearing Bradford’s voice rather than Gregory’s, grateful for the distraction, Nathanial listened. When the conversation ended, he went to the kitchen table to retrieve his car keys, stumbled, and almost fell.
“No driving for me. Like earlier, the crisp air will clear the mind and heart.”
Pocketing his phone, he put on his overcoat, gloves and hat, stepped out into the frigid air, paused, then went back inside. He grabbed the half-empty bottle of bourbon, locked the front door, and started walking.
As snow pelted his hot cheeks, he bent his head forward, almost thankful for the mission. At least he wouldn’t be alone once he reached Samantha’s. If anyone could understand the pain in his soul, it was the granddaughter of Stan Chapman.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Wednesday, December 7, 2016
SAM GLANCED ONCE at the opening leading to the bowels of her home. The rank smell of dirt, decay and body odor made her nose twitch. She chided herself for neglecting to install security equipment in the basement, or at least a freaking lock on the trap door. As usual, Richard planned out everything, including closing all the blinds in the conference room.
He stood at the opposite end of the table about ten feet away, Resa in front of him, a long hunting knife pressed into her neck. Blood dripped down her forehead from what looked to be about a two-inch gash near the hairline. The look of fear on Resa’s face made Sam’s anger roil.
The flickering flames from the candles revealed the true monster on Richard’s face. No trace of humanity remained behind his eyes. A shiver of fear raced up her spine as she recalled Nicole’s words:
His eyes turned black. It was like looking into the bowels of Hell itself. If I believed in such things, it was like a demon sucked out his soul then took over his earthly form.
“You look a bit rough, Richard. Riding a four-wheeler in this weather was fun, huh?”
Richard’s laughter was full of madness. “The ride was short until I reached the truck I paid cash for at the bottom of the mountain. The drive here was a bit harrowing due to the weather, yet I prevailed. I risked my life for you. If that doesn’t prove my love for you, I don’t know what will.”
“Ah, so traipsing through the tunnels, hiding out like a rat in my basement, is why you look so frazzled. In terms of your feelings for me, trust me, I have no doubts.”
“How interesting, Samantha. I’m holding your best friend’s life in my hands and your first question is about my appearance. How vain of you. You’re supposed to grovel and plead for mercy, not interrogate me. My, my, my. What a horrible friend she is, huh Resa?”
“She’s the best friend ever.”
“What a sweet thing to say, however, it was a rhetorical question. Speak again and whatever comes out of your mouth will be your last words. As Sam so eloquently put it earlier, this dance macabre is between us. Threesomes are overrated.”
“This wasn’t your original plan, was it?” Sam pressed.
Richard’s eyes narrowed. “No. To say I was furious by your intrusive actions, which I sorely miscalculated, is an understatement. Very clever and quite ballsy of you breaking into my house—leaving a note telling me ‘Game over.’ You may have destroyed the evidence of your family’s secret, yet the destruction of documents doesn’t negate the truth.”
“You should have been more diligent, Richard, and had Kip’s DNA tested. I did, and he isn’t a Chapman. Like the note said, game over.”
Though only a brief glimpse, Sam detected a hint of shock flicker behind Richard’s eyes. She held in a grin of satisfaction.
Richard’s jaw clenched. “No matter. I regrouped—bounced back as the expression goes—and came up with a brilliant alternative plan. You should be thanking me, since the original one ended with the death of your sister and brother-in-law, all pinned on you if you opted to not follow my instructions.”
Sam’s head spun yet she held herself together. “It does matter. You have nothing left to hold over my head.”
Richard intensified the pressure around Resa’s neck. She whimpered. “I don’t believe your friend agrees.”
Though completely panicked on the inside, Sam kept her cool. “Old transgressions from your past, rather than my family’s, came back to haunt you in the form of Kathy Hale. Funny. We share her as a common connection.”
“You find our situation humorous?”
“In a way, yes. The great Richard Benton taken down by a stripper. The irony is superb. Nice touch, getting rid of your blackmailers—and faking your own death? Bravo, though I must say, I’m surprised you let all your treasures go up in flames.”
“It wasn’t easy, I assure you. As I mentioned earlier, I’ve proved my love for you.”
“Whose bones did you leave at your place?” Sam urged, knowing she was walking a fine line. She wanted to piss him off so he’d come after her, giving Resa a chance to escape.
Running his free hand down Resa’s trembling neck, stopping at the bulge of her breast, Richard watched Sam’s reaction as he brought his lips next to Resa’s ear. “Watch and learn. What she’s doing is called stalling. She’s asking questions she’ll know my ego will want to answer, hoping against hope someone, anyone, will come to the aid of two damsels in distress. I’ll throw her a bone and answer one because what I did is something I’m rather proud of, though I’m shocked she hasn’t already figured it out.”
Sam worried she might puke. “You didn’t.”
“I did. Ol’ Daddy Dearest finally did something useful for me. Of course, he had no choice in the matter since he’s been dead for what—almost twenty years? Digging him out of the grave took a lot of time and energy yet it was worth the effort. Though I know he didn’t feel a thing, bashing his teeth in with a baseball bat to hide his identity was exhilarating! Who knew exorcising demons of the past would be so liberating and more enjoyable than therapy?”
“The police will figure out what you did when they test the remains. I spoke with the detective working the case. He mentioned…”
“You aren’t playing the game right!” Richard yelled. “What do you think, Resa? Perhaps I didn’t make my intentions clear? Maybe Samantha needs a visual aide to remind her of what she’s fighting for?”
Richard yanked, tearing Resa’s blouse, exposing her breasts. With lightning speed, he flicked the knife, slicing the straps of the bra.
Resa screamed.
Sam shot up from the chair. “No! Please, don’t Richard. I’m sorry. For everything. The babies; the recording; breaking into your house. Please, I’m begging you, let her go. I’ll do whatever you want, hell, kill me but let her go.”
Ignoring Samantha’s pleas, Richard returned the knife to Resa’s neck. “Get undressed you whore or I swear I’ll gut you then make Sam lick up your entrails.”
Knowing this was her one chance, Sam fell to the floor, curling into a ball. She sobbed. “Please…I said I’m sorry…I loved you once…I can…again. Let Resa live…my mom will need her…she’s dying…please, Richard. Please!”
“Nice performance. I’m afraid it didn’t work. If I recall, you and your mother aren’t close. Bad choice to play on my sympathies by mentioning Mommie Dearest. I’m all worked up now, seeing these beauties again,” Richard gaze shifted away from Sam as he squeezed Resa’s full breasts. “Yet I’m a reasonable man, Samantha, so I’ll make a deal with you.”
Using the opportunity, Sam clamped her fingers around the gun. “Anything, I’ll do anything you want if you let her go.”
“After I fuck her in front of you until she screams for mercy, ensuring she’ll never speak of this night to anyone, you and I will depart on a trip. Consider it a never-ending honeymoon.” Richard shoved Resa to the floor before unzipping his pants. “On all fours, bitch. Let’s put on a good show for your best friend ever, just like before.”
Sam never said a word. Instead, she pulled the gun, aiming the red laser center mass, firing off three rounds.
The sound of th
e gunshots made her ears ring. Mucous ran from her nose from the scent of gunpowder. Richard’s body flew backward, slamming into the wall, knocking off Sam’s law license.
The knife flew from his hand.
Resa reached for the weapon then scrambled away, crouching in the corner.
Sam stood. Hands and legs trembling, she planted her feet.
Blood poured from the wounds to Richard’s chest. He ignored the searing pain. Letting out a guttural growl, he lunged. “My turn. You can’t kill me! You can’t!”
“Right, because you’re already dead.” Sam unloaded the clip. Every shot hit the intended mark, the last one right between his evil eyes.
Richard crumpled to the ground, blood spewing from his mouth as he let out his final gurgle of life.
“Bastard!” Resa screamed, plunging the knife into his chest. “Rot. In. Hell!”
Yanking the blade out, ignoring the disgusting sound it made, she stabbed him again.
And again.
And again.
“Easy, Resa. He’s dead. Come on, give me the knife.”
“Evil never dies! He jumped me from behind—I didn’t hear him until it was too late! He’ll come back, like in my nightmares. He made me text you. Oh, God!” Resa sobbed.
Kneeling down next to her friend, Sam put an arm around her quaking shoulders. “Shh, baby. He won’t come back. It’s over. Promise. Don’t you worry; I’ll keep an eye on him for the rest of my life.”
Resa wiped the snot and tears from her face. “What do you mean?”
Sam pointed to the basement.
Resa’s eyes widened from shock. “You want to bury him here? What if…?”
“Like I said, he’s already dead. There’s an old cistern in the back corner on the east side of the basement. An empty old cistern. No one will ever come looking for him here. If the cops figure out the bones at his house where those of his father, it won’t matter. There are no ties to either of us. Bradford and I made sure, remember?”
“Holy shit. I can’t believe this. I can’t.”
“Yeah, me either.”
Resa touched the gash on her forehead. Pulling her hand back, she stared at the blood. “Kendal’s going to ask how I got hurt. What am I going to tell him?”
“The same thing you did last time—when the two of us get together and drink, we tend to fall down. If you prefer a different story, slipping on the ice works too.”
Grabbing her best friend, Resa pulled her into a bear hug. “God, I love you. Thank you for saving my life.”
“Love you too, girl. So much. I’m so sorry for what he did to you. Forgive me?”
“We’ve had this conversation before. His fault, not yours, so nothing to forgive.”
Tears welled up in Sam’s throat while staring at Resa’s injuries. She tried to fight them back. It wasn’t the right time for a full meltdown.
She failed.
Hanging her head in shame, the sobs broke free.
Resa’s embrace tightened as both women wept in each other’s arms, bound by pain and events out of their control.
“REMEMBER, AFTER TONIGHT, we never, ever speak of this again. It never happened. Richard Benton died in his home, not mine. Promise?”
Resa nodded. “Promise. Some secrets need to remain buried, right?”
Looking over at Richard’s corpse, Sam let a wry grin cross her lips. “Right. Why don’t you go upstairs and put an old sweatshirt of mine on? I’ll get some gloves and trash bags from the cleaning closet, and a flashlight.”
Stepping over to the utility closet, Resa shook her head. “Not necessary. He made me flick this.”
Resa flipped the breaker switch. The conference room lit up.
Sam breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank God. I thought he cut the wires. Come on, let’s finish this.”
Nodding once, Resa ran from the room, feet pounding up the stairs. Sam busied herself by procuring the items necessary to clean up the mess left by her former lover’s crimson life force all over the new floors.
“Broken eagle my ass, you prick.”
When Resa reappeared with an old t-shirt on, Sam handed her a pair of yellow cleaning gloves before slipping her arms under Richard’s armpits. Resa grabbed his legs. Together, they wrestled the body toward the trap door.
“On the count of three,” Sam said.
“One. Two. Three!”
Tossing Richard’s body down the stairs, they watched it crumple into a heap at the bottom. Neither one cringed at the sound of the thumps as it tumbled down the stairs.
Sam turned to Resa. “I know how you feel about closed-in spaces, so I’ll handle him if you start on the mess up here?”
“You can’t lift him alone! We do this together. Two peas in a pod, right?”
Sam smiled. “Right.”
“I’ll be okay. I’m not afraid of anything anymore.”
“Help me lift him then come right back up here, okay? I’ll transfer the dirt to the hole by myself. I need you to start cleaning up the blood and shell casings in case someone called and reported the gunshots. Hopefully, the storm’s taking up the majority of law enforcement’s time…”
Bam! Bam! Bam!
Both women jumped at the sound of pounding from the front door.
“What the hell?” Resa whispered.
“Hang on.” Sam exited the conference room, hugging the wall until she reached her cell. Though down to 2% power, it blinked with a new video. Peering closer, she clicked on it. “Shit. It’s Nathanial.”
“Who?”
“Judge Hornsby.”
“Sam? Are you okay?” Nathanial called from the porch.
“Oh, my God! What do we do now?” Resa whispered.
Sam shrugged her shoulders. “We let him in.”
Resa ran across the room to Sam’s side. “Are you insane? He’ll call the cops!”
Staring back at the screen, Sam shook her head. “No, he won’t. Trust me.”
“Are you…holy…oh, shit! We’re going to jail! He’s a freaking judge!”
“And I’m a lawyer. None of those things matter tonight.”
Sam headed to the foyer.
Resa ran back to the conference room, kicking the trap door shut. “I’m not going to prison for your sorry ass! Fuck you, Richard Benton!”
Opening the door, Sam ushered Nathanial inside.
“What in the world? You’re bleeding! Are you okay?”
Glancing back over her shoulder toward the conference room, Sam nodded. “I am now, yes. Let me guess: My mom asked you to check on me?”
“Through Bradford, yes. They are both worried.”
“If you would contact my mother and assure her I’m fine, just waiting on my phone to charge, I would appreciate it.”
Nathanial narrowed his eyes. “Is this another flu story?”
Sam chortled. “Sort of. Please, your honor, rest assured we’re fine. Leave before…”
“We’re fine? Your honor?” Nathanial interrupted.
Sam cringed on the inside for the slip. “If you leave now you won’t be involved.”
“I’m afraid it’s a little late for that. What’s going on?”
“I can’t say any more. Please, go.”
“I will do no such thing. A proper southern gent doesn’t leave a distressed lady, or ladies, in a lurch.”
Taking a deep breath, Sam nodded once toward the conference room. “Fine. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Following Samantha, Nathanial caught a whiff of a familiar scent: Gunpowder.
The second he stepped into the conference room, he noticed another woman, the mess, shell casings and all the blood. He stopped at the doorway.
“This is my best friend, Resa.”
Nathanial and Resa nodded toward each other.
Sam took a deep breath. “So, here’s the deal. Richard Benton was dead, miraculously resurrected, and is now dead once more because I killed him. Resa was, again, an innocent bystander caught in his web.”
&nbs
p; Nathanial studied the entire room. It was obvious what happened. Extracting the cold bottle of bourbon from his jacket pocket, he unscrewed the cap, took a hefty swig and then offered the bottle to Sam. “And I arrived just in time for the burial?”
Sam nodded while taking a long pull from the bottle. “Yes. Long story. I’ll share it only after I get this place cleaned up. How appropriate: My life ended and started again with bourbon.”
Gaze darting between the two women, Nathanial let a warm smile cross his face. Pulling the cell phone from his pocket, he passed it to Sam. “Damn shitting chickens.”
Sam laughed. “No doubt.”
“Call your mother and let her know you’re safe then point me to the nearest shovel?”
“Thank you, Nathanial.”
Moving closer until inches away from Samantha’s ear, Nathanial whispered, “Once we’re finished, I have a favor to ask you. Pro hac vice.”
Sam raised an eyebrow. “You’re serious?”
Nathanial nodded.
“Of course. I believe after tonight, I’ll owe you several favors.”
Resa’s mouth gaped open while watching the interaction between the pair.
A devious smirk crossed Nathanial’s lips. He gave a slight nod toward Resa. “Don’t worry, ma’am. I know how to keep secrets. Years of practice made me an expert.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Present Day – Thursday, December 21, 2017
BENDING DOWN, SAM placed fresh flowers on all the graves, including the one of her grandfather. She traced the words carved into the granite headstones with trembling fingers. Shame and regret made her throat dry when she touched her mother’s. Pushing away the mental pain, she wiped her hands. “I miss them so much, even Pop.”
Suzy rested her head on her sister’s shoulder. “Me too. I can’t believe it’s been a year since Mom passed away. Damn. Another holiday season spent without them. Makes me feel like an orphan.”
“Good thing we have each other. Isn’t it strange to think we are the elders of the family now?”
“No doubt. God, what I wouldn’t give to listen to Nana and Mom barking at each other while in the kitchen arguing over who makes the best pecan pie.”
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