In the Event of My Death

by Carlene Thompson

  She reached for the phone beside the bed. It was a cordless phone and she’d carried the receiver into another room. Damn.

  She crept out of bed, pulling her robe around her. Alex, as usual, was so soundly asleep he looked as if he were sinking into the mattress. Even April didn’t raise her head as Laurel slipped from the bedroom. She went to the living room, not bothering to turn on lamps. She’d lived in this house most of her life. She could walk around the rooms blindfolded. She reached the end table and picked up the phone receiver. No dial tone. The phone was dead. That was odd. Had the snow brought down phone lines? She’d try the kitchen phone.

  As soon as she stood, she noticed something wrong with the room. The corner. It didn’t look right. The angle seemed off. Or was it just moonlight reflecting off the snow in a peculiar way? She stepped away from the couch, never taking her eyes off the corner. She caught a twitch of movement. It wasn’t a trick of the light. Someone was in here with her. Her mouth went dry. “Who’s there?” she asked, barely above a whisper. A shadow separated itself from the wall. Her heart slammed against her ribs and she whirled. She had to get to the bedroom where Audra slept and lock the door.

  But she’d only managed three steps before something cracked against her skull, sending her into oblivion.

  2

  Laurel was first aware of pain in her head. She reached up and felt something damp and sticky on her temple. When she pressed, the pain stabbed.

  Slowly she opened her eyes. All she saw was darkness, but she knew she was lying in a fetal position in a small space—a small, cold place. And she was moving. Tires hissing on snow sounded under her right ear. Good Lord, she was in a car trunk!

  How long had she been in here? How badly was she hurt? Where was she going?

  Audra! She raised her head and hit it on the trunk lid. What had happened to Audra? Oh, God, Wayne had left the child with her so she wouldn’t suffer the emotional discomfort of the visitation. Instead he’d sent Audra right into the arms of Denise’s killer.

  Laurel felt the car slowing, turning, then beginning to jolt over a rough road. Her body bounced painfully against the hard floor of the trunk. Whoever had stuffed her in here hadn’t bothered putting a coat on her. She wore only a thin, silky nightshirt and a velour robe, no shoes. She was freezing, particularly her feet. How long was this ride going to last? Her right hip would certainly be bruised from the constant slamming against the trunk floor.

  But a bruised hip was the least of her problems. She knew this was meant to be a death ride. The killer had her and certainly didn’t intend to return her home safe and sound. But why hadn’t she been killed in her living room, beaten to death like Angie, Denise, and Joyce?

  The car slowed again and stopped. Nothing happened for a couple of minutes. Then she heard a car door open.

  “I don’t want to go!” Oh, God, Laurel thought. Audra. “I won’t go!”

  A low voice, harsh, unrecognizable. “If you don’t, I won’t let Laurel out of the trunk and she’ll smother. Do you know what it’s like to smother to death?”

  More moments of silence. Then the door slammed. A key scratched in the trunk lock. The lid opened and a beam of light blinded Laurel. Snow fell off the back of the car into the trunk. More blew in from outside.

  “Get out.”

  Laurel wiped at her eyes and squinted upward. Audra watched her anxiously. The other face was partially hidden by a parka hood.

  “Get out!”

  “All right.” Laurel pushed herself up, blinking rapidly. Then she moved her stiff legs.

  “Hurry up!”

  “I’m hurrying. These aren’t the most comfortable accommodations, you know. I hurt.”

  “Do you think I care?”

  “No, I don’t.” Laurel scooted around, threw her legs over the bumper, and pushed. A shock went through her as her bare feet sank two inches in the snow. She pulled herself up straight, glaring. “Satisfied?”

  “Very.” A brisk wind blew back the parka hood and Crystal’s hard, pale face stared at her. “Now walk.”

  Twenty-five

  1

  Laurel wasn’t surprised to see Crystal. In the moments before the shadow moved in the living room she’d realized Crystal was the killer. “What if we don’t go with you?”

  Crystal raised a gun and pointed it at her. “Then this.”

  “I thought you were afraid of guns.”

  “You thought a lot of things about me.” Crystal glanced at the gun. “Glock Model Nineteen Compact. Nine millimeter, ten rounds. It was my father’s. I could never afford anything so nice.”

  “I’m impressed,” Laurel said calmly, although everything inside her quivered. “I suppose your father taught you how to shoot, too.”

  “Of course he did. I’m a little rusty, but at close range, I’m still pretty good.”

  “Laurel?” Audra quavered.

  “It’s okay, honey. She’s not going to shoot anyone.” Crystal’s eyes narrowed and she knew Crystal would shoot her in an instant. She’d only been trying to soothe the child. “Where do you want us to go, Crystal?”

  “The barn.” Laurel looked around, confused. “Don’t tell me you didn’t realize we’re at the Pritchard Farm.”

  “It was a little hard to tell. I was in the trunk, remember?”

  “Don’t get smart with me.” She waved the flashlight beam forward. “Walk.”

  “She doesn’t have any shoes,” Audra said.

  Laurel looked at her. The child was dressed in the boots, jacket, gloves, scarf, and hat she’d worn when Wayne dropped her off. In spite of her extreme fear, she felt a degree of relief. At least Audra was protected from the cold. Clearly Crystal didn’t mean her any harm. But why had she brought her at all?

  “Laurel doesn’t need shoes,” Crystal said roughly. “Pretty soon she won’t feel the cold at all.”

  Audra’s eyebrows drew together. “What do you mean?”

  Laurel assumed a reassuring voice. “She means I’ll be warm soon.”

  Like hell, she thought. Crystal means I’ll be dead.

  They began trudging through the snow. Crystal walked behind Audra and Laurel, shining the flashlight ahead. Audra reached out and took Laurel’s hand in her warm gloved one. Crystal said nothing. Laurel squeezed Audra’s hand and tried to flash her a smile when the child looked at her.

  “Crystal,” Laurel asked, raising her voice above the wind, “how did you get into my house tonight?”

  Crystal didn’t answer for a moment. Then she laughed. “I crawled through the dog door. You forgot to put the lock panel on, and I’m not a big person.”

  Oh, God, Laurel thought angrily. She’d been thinking about making Audra comfortable, not securing every possible entrance to the house. How damned stupid of her. “Weren’t you afraid of the dogs? After all, you did tangle with them last evening when you paid a visit in that ridiculous white robe and wig.”

  “You didn’t think it was so ridiculous then. You should have seen your face. You were terrified.”

  “Until the dogs came out.”

  “That surprised me. One left a nice bite on my leg and took a piece of my robe. But they’re not attack dogs. I knew I could fend them off if I had on enough clothing to protect me. But as it turned out, I didn’t have to worry. They were shut in your old bedroom with Audra.”

  Laurel was appalled. “You came in the house that long ago?”

  “Patience is a virtue. I spent quite a bit of time in the basement being very quiet, waiting for you to go to sleep. Then Audra came tearing into your room. That’s when I slipped into the living room. I’d already cut the phone line.”

  “But what about when you took Audra and me out? The dogs. What did you do—”

  Audra pulled on her hand. Tears ran down her face. “She sprayed something in their eyes when they went after her. It hurt them so much. They yelped and cried. I hate her!”

  “You do not hate me!” Crystal snapped. “It was just the Mace good ol
d Monica instructed us to get. But don’t get all upset, Laurel. I shut them in the bedroom. They’ll be fine in the morning.”

  But you won’t be, her unsaid words told Laurel.

  “Crystal—”

  “Shut up and walk!”

  Laurel’s hair hung in damp ringlets. Snow stung her cheeks and she had to keep her head bent downward to protect her eyes. And I used to like the feel of snow on my face, Laurel thought wryly. She was certain she couldn’t feel her feet anymore until she stepped on a frozen cornstalk. Pain shot up her leg. She let out a little cry and bent to grab her foot. Crystal kicked her and she fell, rolling sideways.

  “Stop it!” Audra screamed.

  “I’m all right,” Laurel gasped. She was terribly frightened but she didn’t want Audra to see her fear. She climbed to her feet as quickly as possible, brushing snow off her robe, clasping it around her. “I’m tough as nails, Audra. It takes a little more than a spill in the snow to get to me.”

  “Please give her shoes,” Audra begged.

  “I don’t have any extras. Keep walking.”

  Laurel’s teeth chattered. Her back muscles were rigid with cold and she was beginning to worry about her feet. She’d been almost grateful for the pain of the cornstalk. It meant she still had feeling. But what about fifteen or twenty minutes from now? Would she be suffering from frostbite? She could lose her toes or even her feet. If you live that long, she thought dolefully.

  Audra clung to her hand, sniffling. “Don’t cry, honey,” Laurel said. “The tears are freezing on your face.”

  “I can’t stop.”

  “Crystal,” Laurel called, “I know you care about Audra or you wouldn’t have bundled her up this way. Don’t make her go through this. She’s been very sick.”

  “I won’t let her get sick again. You’d better just worry about yourself.”

  Through the blowing snow Laurel could see the hulking shape of the old barn. Dear Lord, this place had haunted her for thirteen years. Was it to be her last sight before she died?

  “Why are we going here?” she asked.

  “I thought you liked this place. I put up a reminder of Faith for you a few days ago.”

  “The noose?”

  “Yes. You had a little tryst with Neil in the barn.”

  Laurel gasped. “How did you know I saw Neil?”

  “I know everything that goes on here. It’s not like I have a lot to do at home anymore.” Laurel felt something jab her back. The gun. “Stop babbling and get in the barn.”

  Audra looked fearfully at Laurel. “I don’t want to go in there.”

  “We have to. It’s just a big, empty building.”

  “Not so empty,” Crystal said. “Go on.”

  They walked into the roofless portion. Snow fell as heavily as outside, but in the back half of the barn Laurel spotted the glow of a kerosene lamp. She hadn’t seen one lighted since the awful night Faith died and the memory sent her spiraling back in time. The cold. The darkness. The surreal setting that made the whole scene seem dreamlike, otherworldly.

  “Go back farther, toward the lamp,” Crystal ordered.

  Laurel couldn’t move. She felt as if her body were covered by a veil of ice. Then came the awful jabbing in her back again. The gun. She didn’t think Crystal meant to kill her now and not by shooting her, but she also knew Crystal was strung tight and probably not nearly so skilled with a gun as she boasted. She could very easily shoot Laurel, or even Audra, by accident.

  Laurel pushed her wet hair behind her ears and wiped a damp arm of her robe across her eyes. She moved forward. Under the roof, the glow of the lamp seemed brighter. She saw the bale of hay, the hangman’s noose, and Monica, hands and feet bound with rope, mouth covered with silver duct tape, standing bound to a joist supporting the rotting wall.

  “Monica!” Laurel cried. Monica wore a coat, but her hair was wet and she shivered violently. Her eyes darted frantically above the tape. “How long has she been out here?”

  “Since shortly after Denise’s visitation,” Crystal said calmly. “She came back to my house to talk about my case. She was almost certain I was going to be arrested any time for Joyce’s murder. You got the call from Joyce’s cell phone at seven. At seven Chuck was home. That oldest boy of Joyce’s swore to it. That’s why I had to move fast, get everything done tonight.”

  “What are you going to do with Monica?” Laurel asked.

  “Exactly what she did to Faith. Hang her. Set her on fire. She’s escaped her punishment for a long time.”

  The circle. The chanting. The shoes. The fire. Laurel closed her eyes for a moment. Then she opened them and said slowly, “Monica didn’t kill Faith. You did.”

  Monica’s eyes flew to Laurel’s face and Crystal went rigid. “Monica killed Faith with her Satanic ritual.”

  Laurel drew a deep, freezing breath that hurt her lungs. “Oh, no she didn’t. If the devil was here that night, it was in the form of you.”

  Crystal looked at her piercingly. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  Laurel was shuddering all over, both from cold and from fear, but she hadn’t descended into blind panic. She believed if she kept talking, kept telling everything she remembered, she could get Crystal flustered and somehow overpower her, in spite of her weakened condition and lack of a weapon.

  “I’ve dreamed so often of the night Faith died, so damned often,” she began. “I know why now. I was trying to remember something, something that only came to me tonight when I found a letter Faith left for me.”

  “A letter?”

  “Yes. She must have thought I handled the teddy bear often, but I rarely touched it.”

  “The teddy bear?” Crystal smiled. “The cold must be getting to you. You’re rambling.”

  “No I’m not. That night, thirteen years ago, the wine made me so sick. I couldn’t be part of the circle because I was going to throw up, remember? Most of the time I had my eyes closed, but there was a moment, one crucial moment, when I opened them.”

  Crystal raised her eyebrows. “Well, don’t keep me in suspense. What did you see?”

  “Everyone thought because Faith was drunk and dizzy, she slipped off the bale of straw and kicked over the kerosene lamp, starting the fire. But that’s not how it happened. The sequence is wrong.” She saw that she had Crystal’s full attention. Crystal was even breathing harder.

  “You had on suede boots that night,” Laurel went on. “You were always so well dressed in those days when your family had plenty of money. The boots were expensive. I thought they were so pretty. And as everyone went around in a circle, chanting, their eyes closed, I saw you purposely kick over the kerosene lantern. The straw on the floor caught fire, then the bale of hay Faith was standing on. She panicked, kicked, and fell off. That’s when her neck snapped.”

  Crystal made a little huffing noise. “You were drunk. So drunk you were hallucinating.”

  “I wasn’t drunk—just sick. I know what I saw, Crystal. What’s the point of denying it now that you’ve kidnapped Monica and Audra and me? You’re going to kill us anyway.”

  “Not Audra!” Crystal snapped as Audra whimpered. “Don’t listen to her, sweetheart. I won’t hurt a hair on your head.”

  “But you’re going to kill Monica and me.”

  “Well, I have to, now.” Crystal sounded almost petulant.

  “You killed Faith because she was pregnant with Chuck’s baby, didn’t you?”

  Crystal glared at Laurel. “It wasn’t Chuck’s. It was Neil’s, everyone knows that.”

  “Neil loved Faith. He would have married her. Her letter to me said the father wanted her to have an abortion. For a while I thought maybe Kurt was the father, but I know he’s always hated the idea of abortion. Besides, Faith said the father tried to force money for the abortion on her, but she wouldn’t take it. Kurt didn’t have any money.”

  “Neither did Chuck.”

  “No, but you did. Chuck had to tell you about the baby, didn’t
he? He had to tell you because he needed money. You gave it to him. But Faith refused to get an abortion.”

  “She wanted him for herself!” Crystal stormed. “My Chuck.”

  “Your Chuck was having sex with someone else.”

  “Once! He explained it. He was drunk and she seduced him. She’d try anything to get him. After she got pregnant, she threatened to tell everyone Chuck was the father. My parents would have cut me off without a dime if I’d married him.”

  “So you decided murder was the only answer.”

  “She was a poor little slut, the daughter of a crazy man. She’d only drag him down. I told him, but—” Laurel pounced. “But what? He was going to marry her anyway?”

  “No!”

  “You were afraid the whole mess would come out, your family would cut you off, and he would marry Faith instead of you. Chuck is a fortune-hunter, but he’s not a killer. He didn’t ask you to murder Faith for him. How could he have possibly guessed such an opportunity as our night in the barn could crop up? He couldn’t. But when you saw it, you jumped at it. Did he know what you’d done?” Crystal’s lips narrowed. “You said after the stillbirth of your last baby, when you were sedated, you babbled things about ‘Faith’ and the ‘fire.’ That’s when he began to suspect, didn’t he?”

  “He married me, not Faith. He loved me.”

  “He couldn’t very well marry Faith if she were dead. Besides, you had money back then.”

  Crystal’s face tightened. “Money didn’t matter to Chuck. Look how long he stayed with me after we found out my parents died bankrupt.”

  “But you were pregnant. Then you lost the baby. Then another and another. Maybe it was guilt that kept him with you or maybe just lack of opportunity—at least until after the last loss, when he got suspicious about your part in Faith’s death. Then Joyce Overton came along, and he dumped you quick enough.”

  “You bitch!”