The Witness Series Bundle

by Rebecca Forster

  They went down the hall and Josie saw that peace of mind didn't come cheap. In Grace's case it never came at all. Doctor Wharton held the door for her. They stepped out into a beautiful Vermont evening and took a dirt path toward a stand of white cottages.

  "So what exactly is wrong with Grace, Doctor? Acting out as a child doesn't usually lead to murder."

  "You're very right. But you see, I didn't diagnose Grace properly until she was an adult. By then she was more articulate, we could delve deeper into what troubled her."

  "Which was?" Josie prodded but Dr. Wharton was not to be hurried. There was background to give.

  "When her parents died, Grace was stuck in a pre-pubescent mire of self-doubt. At the same time Matthew had already moved through puberty. While Matthew coped, indeed thrived, Grace deteriorated. This was not mental illness; this worldview was inherent in her personality. No matter what action Grace takes—especially if called upon to make a decision—she will always second-guess herself and acquiesce to others."

  "By that reasoning she should be turning herself in to the police right about now," Josie noted ruefully.

  "Not necessarily," he warned. "Did she make the decision to run on her own or did she have help?"

  "She had help," Josie concurred.

  "From a man?"

  Josie nodded. They had reached the trees. A sharp wind turned her ears icy.

  "The only move Grace feels comfortable making is the one made with the approval of a man or for the benefit of a man, Ms. Bates. In her view, women were not to be admired, while men were to be adored."

  "If that qualifies as a mental disorder I know a lot of women who are sick."

  "Not in this way," he warned. "Grace's specific illness takes this sense of dependency to the extreme. Her problem crosses the line from a social difficulty to severe psychological impairment."

  "Meaning what?"

  "For Grace the line between admiration and love, trust and blind acceptance of a man blurs until it is nonexistent. You see, Grace suffers from a delusional type of paranoid disorder called erotomania.

  "She idealized romantic love and spiritual union. It is a sense that there is a higher commitment. Grace views the person she loves as God-like. These feelings are usually directed toward someone who has an established reason to be highly admired. The self can be completely lost to this adoration. Those afflicted with this disorder can't bear to share that person with anyone else."

  "And Grace directed these feelings to all men?"

  "Grace directed these feelings toward Matthew. She felt unsafe without him, unable to make even the slightest move without his help or approval. A girlfriend would be especially threatening." Dr. Wharton pulled his coat tighter. "Grace thought of Matthew constantly, dreamed of him, imagined what he was doing."

  "Did you talk to Grace after she and Matthew reunited?" Josie asked.

  "Yes. She was quite happy. I thought she had managed a healthy transition. Grace told me she knew Matthew wasn't perfect. She understood his failings and forgave them. She recognized him for the man he was—frailties and all—and she still loved him as a sister should."

  "But . . ." Josie urged him on as he reached for the cottage door.

  "But there was someone else in a position of authority close to Matthew. Poor Grace simply transferred her feelings from one person to another."

  "Tim Douglas," Josie said.

  "Oh, no. Michelle McCreary," he corrected and this time he did open the cottage door. "Imagine that? A woman."

  "Then how could Grace hurt Mrs. McCreary if she felt that way about her?"

  Doctor Wharton's eyes widened, surprised to find that the student had learned nothing. He shook his head and said:

  "That's the point, Ms. Bates. She couldn't."

  CHAPTER 45

  Josie watched television curled up in the big living-room chair. Max snoozed by her side. The lights were low, the night wearing thin as every night had during the past week. Archer spent his days tracking Kevin O'Connel and Grace McCreary and his evenings alone, since Josie was uncomfortable under his watchful eye. Hannah had been exiled to Faye's, contact limited to phone calls, for her own safety. Matthew had accepted Josie's apology and now the only time she saw him was on a thirty-second television spot. His political machine was running full tilt trying to regain lost ground. Finding herself staring at him now, Josie pressed the button on the remote and disappeared him. She stretched. Max raised his head. Josie ruffled his ears.

  "What do you say? One last walk?"

  Max struggled to his feet as if he knew this was more for her benefit than his. She didn't want to go to bed; she didn't want to dream the dream again.

  Every night it was the same. Josie dreamed she was having dinner with Grace McCreary. Grace was dressed in an exquisite white suit, Josie in torn jogging clothes. They sat across from one another while Grace smoked and the emerald ring twirled. Then Grace's finger fell off and Josie choked to death on the smoke. Sometimes Kevin O'Connel was the waiter. He brought no food. He stood by the table until Grace's finger fell off and Josie choked to death on the cigarette smoke. Josie had been frightened until she realized the dream meant nothing.

  "I'm going to get Hannah home," Josie said as she attached Max's leash. His ears pricked at the sound of Hannah's name and Josie laughed. "I kind of miss her, too."

  All these quiet days were proof that nothing was going to happen. Grace McCreary would be chalked up to experience, Kevin O'Connel to cowardice and poor Susan to fate. It was time to get things back on track.

  Opening the door, Josie guided Max onto the porch, down the three steps and onto the walkway where, without warning, he dropped back. Tail under, the fur on the back of his neck bristling, he targeted the stand of bushes. Instinctively, Josie wound the leash twice around her hand and pulled him close. Old though he may be, Max was heavy and Josie had to use both hands to control him as he strained toward the privy hedge. Suddenly, he lurched, rising on his hind legs, lips drawn back to bare his long teeth.

  "Face me, you bastard," she screamed. Josie wrenched the greenery apart. Max bumped her leg and paced behind her, beside her. Josie's heart drilled through her chest but Kevin O'Connel didn't come flying out at her brandishing a knife.

  "Shh."

  She touched Max to quiet him and, in the sudden silence, heard the sound of someone else's fear. Whimpers and coos and the desperate attempt to become small and insignificant. Emboldened, Josie let loose of Max and parted the branches once more.

  Grace McCreary, not Kevin O'Connel, was hunkered in the dirt. She was still dressed in the sweatshirt and jeans, the cheap shoes that Tim Douglas had bought her. She was terrified, drawn and pale. Her knees were pulled up to her chest, her hands clasped and crossed over her mouth and those eyes, those dark eyes that had stared through Josie a hundred times, were now plain and sad to see. Of all the things she'd imagined happening to Grace, this was not one of them.

  "Grace," Josie lamented and put her hand out. "Come out of there. Come on. Where have you been? We've been looking for you."

  Grace shrank away. Her head shook and shook and she sniveled words that Josie didn't understand. Josie tried again.

  "Please, Grace. Please. No one will hurt you. I won't hurt you."

  The branches scratched Josie's arms. She touched Grace. Max wedged himself between Josie's legs and she pushed him back with one hand as she grasped Grace McCreary's wrist with the other. Slowly Grace was pulled out of the dirt and into Josie's arms.

  "I'm so sorry for what I've done," Grace gasped, hardly able to speak through her heaves of hysteria. "It all got so complicated. I did love Michelle but I had to choose, Josie. I couldn't let her ruin him."

  "It's okay. It's okay," Josie muttered, righting Grace. "We'll talk inside. You can tell me what I need to know."

  "No . . . here." Grace pulled away and dug in the pocket of her jeans. She withdrew an envelope and shoved it into Josie's hands. Her f
ingers were cold and dirty. "I didn't know Matthew kept them but he did, and Michelle found them and she didn't understand. And she was so angry. And it was so long ago." Grace pulled on Josie's hands and the paper crumpled. She talked so fast Josie could barely keep up. "And I wasn't going to tell ever." Grace sobbed as if her heart was breaking. "But Matthew told what I did to Michelle and he told I loved her and that was so wrong because he promised he would keep it a secret. I just wanted him to know why I killed her. I wanted him to know how much I loved him and then he hurt me ... I believed him and I kept him safe and I ... and he hated me the whole time . . . he hated me."

  Cautiously, Josie steered Grace toward the house by inches but Grace threw herself back and twisted away. She promised to disappear; begged Josie to read the letters. She tried to tell the truth through her hysterical sobs. Josie grappled with her, clenched her teeth, and planted her feet.

  "No, you don't." She held tight as Grace tried to pull away.

  "Let me go." Grace was frantic now. "Just show them the letters, Josie, and then the police will know about everything. Show them the letters, Josie. Show the police and tell them I had no choice. I had no choice."

  "Come inside, Grace. I'll read them. Come inside," Josie demanded while Grace wailed and wept. Then nothing she said mattered because a car was barreling down the avenue, jumping the curb and skidding to a stop just before it hit Josie's wall. The two women leapt back and stared into the headlights as the driver's door was flung open. Then Josie heard the sounds of her own scream.

  "Run, Grace. Run, now!"

  With all her might Josie shoved Grace McCreary away as Max took up the charge and Josie gauged the distance between the front door and the man who was coming at her.

  ***

  Billy Zuni was cold, which was strange since the wind seemed warm. Maybe he was coming down with the flu.

  He kicked at something that was more imagination than anything else. He head-banged to a tune he'd had on his mind since school got out and he embellished with a little air guitar as he wandered toward home.

  Random thoughts flitted through the music in his head. Hannah was really getting bitchy about staying with Faye. It wasn't like Josie made her go away forever. He tried to tell Hannah that Josie and Faye were trying to protect her but Hannah didn't want to listen. Faye gave him a sandwich and ten bucks. His mother. His mother . . . the pretend music swelled and thoughts of his mother were buried under an immensely brilliant run on the steel strings of his air guitar.

  He stopped to enjoy the moment. Fingers flying, head bobbing, soul expanding, Billy Zuni looked up to take a bow and that's when he saw her. A woman was running to the beach like the devil was after her.

  ***

  "Where is she? Where is she?"

  "Oh, God, Matthew. I thought you were Kevin O'Connel." Josie cried as she ran to him.

  "Josie, are you all right? Grace called. She was out of her mind. I thought she was going to hurt you," Matthew said as he ran toward her.

  Josie swallowed hard. "No, she came to tell me something. She wanted help."

  "What did she tell you? What?" Matthew grabbed her arms and shook her.

  "You're hurting me. Let go. Matthew, what's wrong with you?" She jerked away but Matthew held tight. His fingers dug into her arm. She yelped.

  "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He backed off and pulled a hand through his hair, frustrated and worried. "I just want to know what kind of shape she's in. I thought it was like before. I thought Grace might hurt you."

  "And I thought you were Kevin O'Connel and you might hurt her," Josie snapped as she bent down and grabbed Max's leash. "I sent her to the beach. She's a mess."

  "Okay. I'll get her. I'll find her," Matthew said and took off before Josie could say another word.

  She pulled on Max's leash, half-dragged him into the house and slammed the door shut before she started to run. Behind her Josie left Matthew's car sitting cocked on the walk street, lights streaming into her front yard, as she headed to the beach. She was unaware that someone was watching, someone who ran up to the car and turned off the lights before going into Josie's house.

  CHAPTER 46

  Winded, Josie bent over to catch her breath. She peered through the darkness trying to catch sight of Matthew and Grace. She called their names but her voice was like a surfer lost in the curl; it was swallowed up by the sound of the wind and waves.

  Sprinting to the lifeguard headquarters, Josie pounded on the door, then stepped back and looked up. A low light burned somewhere inside but there was no sign of life and no time to try to rouse the night guard. Whacking the door for good measure, she bolted past the pier and toward the sea. It would be easier to spot Grace and Matthew if she looked up from the shoreline rather than down from the Strand.

  Fifty yards up she had them. They were herky-jerky silhouettes wrestling close to the water. Matthew, taller than his sister, struggled to control her but still Grace managed to push him off. Michelle McCreary, so small and delicate, would have been no match for Grace and Josie shuddered to think what must have happened on the balcony that night.

  Running faster, Josie tripped over a hole in the sand and hit the ground hard, knocking the wind out of her. For a minute—no more—she lay on the ground, stunned. She looked up in time to see Grace lunge at her brother and hear the unmistakable sound of a gunshot.

  "Matthew!"

  Josie cried out as he lurched backward and Grace fell on top of him. Still undetected, Josie scrambled to her feet, relieved when she saw Matthew stand. He still struggled under Grace's weight. He was still trying to push his sister back. He was fighting . . .

  No. No.

  That was wrong.

  It was Grace who was hurt. It was Grace who didn't resist as Matthew dragged her into the water, pushed her in, pushed her away. It was Matthew who turned his back on his sister and slogged back to shore unaware that Josie had seen everything.

  "What are you doing? What?"

  Josie screamed as she ran, thinking only of getting to Grace. But Matthew was there, stepping in front of her, his arms out to corral her. Josie hit him hard, the heels of her hands on his shoulders.

  "Get out of my way, you son of a bitch!"

  Josie faked right and went left, too fast for Matthew to grab hold of her. She threw herself into the freezing water only to be brought down by the first wave. Up again, she turned her back and let the waves lift her at the hips. She went over them. One. Two. Josie turned but before she could begin to stroke Matthew had her by the ankle. Josie went under — and under again as he pulled on her, roughly gathering her up as she struggled.

  "Josie, don't. Don't," Matthew hollered as he held her tight. "Don't be a fool."

  "Let go! Let me go!" Josie screamed back, flailing and choking on the salt water as they stumbled onto the beach. "You killed her. Dammit, Matthew, you killed her."

  "No, no, she tried to kill me the way she killed Michelle. Look." Matthew wrenched her arm so hard she thought it had come out of the socket. "There. Look. She brought a gun. She was going to kill you, too, Josie. Grace was going to kill both of us. Don't you see? She was crazy."

  "You liar. You damn liar. Ever since we met. Even now, when I saw you. I saw you!" Josie stumbled backward, breathless and furious. "Grace didn't have pockets big enough to hide a gun. She didn't have a purse. She wanted me to help her. She wanted me to save her from you, Matthew. That's it, isn't it? Tell the truth just this once."

  Josie put her hand to her head. Her eyes burned from the salt water. Matthew was a blur but she thought he was smiling as he took his last best shot, talking in a politician's sound bites.

  "Grace threatened me. I was afraid after what she'd done to Michelle. I was worried about you, Josie. I couldn't lose you again. I brought the gun. Yes. I brought it. She tried to get it away from me. The gun went off. I pushed her away. The waves took her. It was for you. I did it because I was so afraid for you, Josie."

  Matth
ew held his hand out to her. His eyes softened, his voice was gentle, and the implied invitation was beyond sick.

  "I saw you kill your sister, Matthew," she cried. "I'll testify to it. You're finished, you son of a bitch."

  With that the light in Matthew McCreary was extinguished. He stopped talking. His eyes went blank. The wind whipped past him, tousling his hair, flipping his jacket out behind him. His arms lay limp at his sides but his head tipped like a dog suddenly aware that something was amiss on the other side of the fence.

  Then as suddenly as he had shut down, Matthew McCreary was animated again. Three long strides brought him to Josie and before she knew what happened he had her locked in an embrace. One hand held her head tight to his chest, the other was lashed across her shoulders pinning her arms to her sides.

  "No. No. No. The water took Grace. Josie, the water took her. I couldn't save her. It was dark. Grace was so sick. She had always been sick," Matthew whispered frantically, holding Josie tighter as she struggled. "They'll believe that. If I say it, they'll believe it and people will be so sad for me, Josie. They will be so sad for me, Josie. They will be—"

  "Nobody will give a shit about you, Matthew, because I'll tell the truth and you can't stop me." Josie jerked her head free and pulled back far enough to look into Matthew McCreary's eyes.

  "Don't say that, Josie." Matthew warned and then the warning turned to begging and the begging seemed so sincere. "Say you won't tell anyone. Just say that and we'll be okay. We'll be the way we were, Josie. Before Michelle. Before you knew about Grace. When you still loved me. Please say you won't tell. Say it, Josie."

  "No. I'll tell what I saw," she said and that was a mistake.

  Matthew's face came toward hers. Josie threw herself back. His lips hit the side of her jaw. She whipped her head to the other side and his lips slid off hers. Angered, he wound his fingers through her hair and yanked her head back. His lips came down hard and insistent on hers as they stumbled backward, deeper into the water. Josie fell, taking Matthew with her. Stronger and faster than she ever imagined he could be, Matthew pulled her up, shaking her like a rag doll. He was out of his mind. He was out of control and he only wanted to know one thing.