Key Lime Pie

by Josi S. Kilpack

  She was beginning to feel a little silly holding Eric’s hand when he didn’t seem to notice, so she loosened her grip and he let her go.

  Larry kept talking, and she folded her arms over her chest and listened intently. “She felt Puerto Rico would be the ultimate new start—a new country, a new life altogether, and she wouldn’t even need a passport to get there.”

  “Well, she definitely got a new life,” Sadie said, glad she wasn’t the one who would have to feel responsible for what had happened between then and now. It would be a heavy burden to shoulder, and as she looked at Larry, she wondered how he’d managed it so far. “I’m guessing the new employer was Alex Montez, who had two sons and a wife named Liliana.”

  Larry couldn’t hide his surprise . . . again. “How did you know that?”

  “Megan’s been living as his wife, using his wife’s name—Liliana Montez—and, I suspect, raising her children.” By the look on Larry’s face she could tell he hadn’t known that bit of information. Megan was keeping secrets from everyone it seemed.

  Eric was staring at her too.

  “I think the body the police found was the real Liliana Montez,” Sadie explained. “Hugo must have come to regret the part he’d played, so when Megan came to Miami for this surgery, he started setting things up for her to be discovered—preventing her from returning to Alex. I don’t know how the bracelet ended up with Liliana, but it certainly got the police looking for Megan, didn’t it?”

  They were all silent for several seconds. She kept her eyes fixed on Larry, hoping he would keep talking. She wasn’t disappointed.

  “When you live off false papers, you have to exist in the margins of typical society. I explained that to Megan when I first sent her with Hugo, and she seemed to understand. When she told me about the job in Puerto Rico, I looked into Alex. He’d had some trouble, but nothing serious. I had no idea he was . . . the man she told me she’d married. She seemed so . . . happy. Just as I wanted her to be.”

  “Did you know she was in Miami?” Sadie asked. “Did she call you?”

  Larry shook his head and seemed a little bit hurt by that fact.

  “Why did you have Max burn the box?” Sadie asked, trying to fit in as many questions as possible.

  “I was just . . . scared, I guess. Hoping I could buy some time; worried that she might have something in there that would lead the police to me.”

  “How can you live with yourself?” Eric asked in a harsh whisper, glaring at Larry with his fists clenched at his sides. His eyes were narrowed, and Sadie took a step away from him.

  “I could ask you the same question,” Larry said coolly. He lifted his eyes and seemed to appreciate the aggression Eric had restored to the conversation. It was likely easier for both men to rely on their anger with one another than on the guilt of what they’d done. “The irony is that I’ve been haunted about my part in this, and you’ve never once thought about yours.”

  Eric sprang forward and landed a fist on Larry’s nose before Larry finished speaking. Larry yelled and swung wildly, catching Eric’s right ear with the bag he was still holding. They both went through the doorway and slammed into the wall of the hallway.

  Sadie probably should have yelled at them to stop, but she just watched and sighed in aggravation. Not that fighting was silly—they both obviously had some rage they needed to work out—but now was the time to act like rational adults, not teenage boys with no self-control.

  Larry tried to get up, scrambling toward the living room, and Eric knocked him to the floor again, creating a gap in the doorway wide enough for Sadie to slip through. She did just that, careful not to get caught by a stray leg as the men rolled across the floor. She hoped they wouldn’t seriously hurt one another; men in their forties didn’t heal as well as sixteen-year-olds.

  “You should have told me!” Eric yelled, followed by a particularly crushing punch that made Sadie wince. She didn’t look back—boxing had never been her thing, and this wasn’t a game—as she headed for the kitchen. She picked up the phone and dialed 911 for the second time that day.

  “Nine-one-one. What’s your emergency?”

  “I’m at the Garden Grove condominium complex, number 27. A couple men are fighting. I think they need some intervention.” There were groans and curse words and the sound of body punches from behind her.

  She answered all the questions the dispatcher asked, even giving her name this time. Pete would be so proud of her. But though the woman asked her to stay on the line, Sadie hung up once she’d given all the important information. She could wait around here for the police, or she could get her car from Layla’s, go to the police station herself, and keep herself as distanced from the rest of this as possible. Then, when she’d finished her statements and explanations, she could really leave. She hoped.

  Sadie thought it was at least a mile walk to Layla’s, but she didn’t mind a good stretch of the legs while she got her thoughts in order. There was plenty to think about, plenty of details she needed to put into order in her mind. Among them was sorting out her feelings for Eric. The kiss had worried her, but it was only one part of the equation. Seeing him in this environment had been uncomfortable from the start. Hearing Larry’s accusations hadn’t helped, but neither did they change everything. The change had been happening all along—bit by bit, she had glimpsed another side of this man. She let herself out the front door, taking a final look back. Eric was pinned beneath Larry, who was shouting rather than hitting. Sadie had a feeling this had been a long time coming for both of them.

  She pulled the door closed behind her and headed down the snaking streets that led out of the complex, wishing she hadn’t left her purse in her car. At least she had her phone. The main entrance was in sight when she saw a police car turn in with no lights or sirens. Lowering her head, she tried to look inconspicuous. The car sped by, and she looked over her shoulder in time to see it turn the corner she’d just rounded.

  She quickened her pace, but then stopped when she got to the street. There were no mountains, and she’d left her GPS in her car, which meant she had no idea which direction to go. Hadn’t Eric made a right-hand turn into the complex? She started walking that direction, but the homes didn’t seem familiar. The last thing she needed was to get lost on top of everything else. She started walking the other way, but within a few steps was unsure of that direction too. The sun had almost set, burnishing everything with a coppery light that subdued details she might otherwise have noted.

  Monty.

  She pulled her cell phone and Monty’s card from her pocket and stopped at the corner where she’d be able to read the coordinates off the street sign. With a little luck he was still in Homestead. If not, maybe he could tell her which way to go—he had an amazing sense of direction.

  “Hallo?” Monty said on the other end of the line after just two rings.

  “Hi, Monty,” she said. “It’s Sadie Hoffmiller. Is there any chance you’re still in Homestead?”

  “Sho’ am,” he said. “It be Friday night, and the bars be hoppin’.”

  “Do you think you could pick me up and take me back to my car? I’ll pay fare, of course.”

  “Sho’. Where you be?”

  “On the corner of 400 Northeast and 18th Avenue. Do you know where that is?”

  “Sho’, sho’. I am not fa’.”

  “Thank you,” Sadie said as she watched another police car turn into the complex. She hung up the phone, hoping Monty would hurry.

  Less than a minute later, a quick honk caught her attention. She couldn’t suppress a smile as Monty pulled smoothly to the curb. He wasn’t kidding about being close.

  “Thank you, Monty,” Sadie said, sliding into the passenger seat. She didn’t feel like a customer anymore. “You have been such an amazing help to me today.”

  “Sho’, sho’,” he said, nodding. He had opened the window on his side, and Sadie tried to convince herself that it didn’t bother her. But the thick air flowing into the
taxi as he pulled away from the curb wasn’t the least bit relaxing. Still, it was his cab, and she wasn’t about to demand he close the window.

  “I just need a ride back to my car,” Sadie said. “It’s in the same place it was the last time you dropped me off. Do you remember where that is?”

  “Sho’, sho’,” Monty said, turning left at a stop sign.

  Her phone rang just as she put her seat belt on. The call was from Pete, and she knew it was officially time to go to Mathews. She also knew Pete would be glad to hear it. She shot a quick smile at Monty and put the phone to her ear.

  “Sadie,” Pete said. There was intensity in his tone that hadn’t been there during their earlier conversation, and she immediately feared he was angry with her about something. “Where are you?”

  “I’m on my way to talk to Mathews right now, I swear I’m—”

  “The guy you left in the park,” Pete interrupted. “You said he hit his head and was unconscious, right?”

  “Right,” Sadie said, bracing herself for getting in big trouble.

  “I just got off the phone with Sergeant Mathews. He said the Miami PD did find a body at a park following an anonymous 911 call, but the man wasn’t unconscious. He was dead.”

  Sadie gasped. “No, he wasn’t dead,” she said as her stomach fell. “He was breathing and everything—I checked!” She distinctly remembered checking his pulse after Monty pulled Joe out from under the table.

  “Sadie,” Pete said, “did you see anyone else at the park when you were there? Was anyone watching you?”

  “No. I was right there when . . . he hit his head. I saw him fall, and I checked his pulse. He wasn’t—”

  “He didn’t die because he hit his head,” Pete said. “He had a gunshot wound to the back of his skull.”

  Sadie froze, her entire head buzzing. “That’s impossible. He just—”

  She was cut off when the phone was snatched from her hand. By the time her mind caught up with what had happened enough to turn her head, her phone was sailing out the open window.

  Chapter 41

  I should have done that a long time ago,” Monty said. The accent was gone, and when he looked at her, there was no smile, no teeth, and no compassion in his expression. It was as if it wasn’t Monty at all anymore.

  Her breath froze in her chest and a tremor ran down her spine, starting in her head and moving all the way to her toes. She should say something—anything—but all she could do was stare while fear filled her chest. When she finally got hold of herself and looked out the car window in search of some means of escape, she saw the sign for the freeway entrance. Monty wasn’t taking her to her car.

  She grabbed the handle of the door and pulled while ramming her shoulder against the door. She’d rather roll across pavement at thirty-five miles an hour than be stuck on the freeway with this man. The door didn’t budge, and although she pushed the unlock button multiple times, nothing happened. When she was with Joe, she’d never felt this trapped.

  Monty didn’t say a word, but she felt the car accelerate as they reached the freeway entrance. Sadie stopped struggling and leaned her forehead against the window, taking deep breaths and telling herself that if she was going to get out of this one, she would have to keep her wits about her. Apparently her heart didn’t believe her; it was racing so fast she could barely distinguish the individual beats.

  “I don’t understand,” she finally said, still facing the window, still attempting to calm her racing thoughts and heart.

  “That’s the beauty of it,” Monty said with a nod. “You are so utterly clueless that you played right into my hands.”

  Sadie replayed every conversation, every movement he’d made, but none of them came off as suspect.

  “You were at the gas station,” Sadie said, finally turning to face him. He still didn’t look like Monty. Everything had changed. “I found you.”

  “But you didn’t see me following you from Homestead,” Monty said, arrogance creeping into his tone. “You didn’t notice that I pulled into the gas station right behind Megan’s father. I saw you look at me, take note of the taxi. I could tell you were upset with him, and I knew he was on his way to meet Hugo. You came to me, saving me from having to follow blindly. It worked out quite perfectly for me.”

  “You’re with Hugo?” Sadie asked.

  Monty shook his head. “No, I’m most certainly not with Hugo.”

  Pete had asked if Sadie had seen anyone else at the park. “You killed him,” Sadie said, almost breathless with the discovery.

  Monty lifted his shirt and pulled a gun from his waistband. A toy-looking gun with a silencer on the end Sadie had seen before.

  Joe’s gun—Hugo’s gun.

  She looked at Monty. “When I was at the car?” It was a question because it still seemed utterly impossible. The gun had a silencer, but Sadie knew silencers only quieted the sound of a gunshot enough to disguise it. She’d have heard it. Then she remembered how she’d jumped when she slammed the trunk at the park. It had been too loud, but she’d blamed it on hypersensitivity triggered by nerves. Had Monty been watching her when she’d been at the car? Waiting for her to slam a door—or the trunk—so it would hide the sound? “How could I not have noticed he was dead?” she said, almost to herself.

  “I didn’t let you get close to the body once you came back,” Monty replied. And Sadie had just thought he was being chivalrous when he bent down to get Joe’s phone. “You didn’t notice the pool of blood forming under his head either—that was the part I was most worried about, but the grass hid it pretty well.”

  Sadie thought about how pale Joe had looked. It had increased her concern, but he was already dead by then. She closed her eyes and tried to keep the nausea from rising in her throat. Was Joe’s death her fault? Had she caused it?

  “Trust is a dangerous thing, lady, and you have far too much of it to play these kind of games. Patience, on the other hand, is a virtue, and I have been very, very patient until now, letting you dig around, helping you gather the information I needed as much as you did and staying close at all times. All in all, I think I’ve played my part incredibly well.” He smiled smugly, and Sadie looked away, feeling her nose tingle with suppressed emotion she couldn’t give in to now. “I almost left after I dropped you off at your car, but when I turned the corner and looked back, you were crossing the street—off for more information. So I bided my time a little longer, wondering what you were up to. When I followed you to Larry’s condo, I knew you knew too much.” He smiled again. “Imagine my surprise when you called me for a ride after I’d already convinced myself I was going to have to find you alone somehow to finish things up.”

  She still couldn’t believe what had happened, but knew she would have to find some way to “play” this kind of game if she hoped to get out of this alive. She looked out the window at the trees and the occasional utility pole that sped past the windows. It was starting to get dark and some of the highway lights were on. They were traveling eighty miles an hour and, Sadie realized, they weren’t heading north, toward Miami. There were buildings all along the interstate going north. All Sadie could see now was trees, greenery, waterways, and the occasional car that, even though it was only a few feet away, seemed impossibly far away.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “You’ll know soon enough,” Monty said, speeding up even more. “I’m afraid you’ve made me late.”

  “You work with Megan’s husband, don’t you?” Sadie said. “You knew Joe—Hugo—was trying to help her get found, and you were sent to stop that from happening.”

  Monty nodded. “I’ve been tracking Hugo for two days, trying to figure out what he was up to. You managed to fill in many of the blank spaces for me.”

  Sadie was sick to realize she’d given him the answers he needed. “What happened to Liliana?”

  “She wore out her welcome.”

  “And Megan took her place.”

  “Quite well, as
I hear it,” he answered. “Megan wanted to be someone else, and Alex wanted a new Liliana. Hugo was supposed to be watching out for Liliana while she was here in Miami—Alex has to be careful about keeping his distance—but something was off, which is why I got involved.”

  Sadie reviewed the things Hugo had said about Megan being safer than she’d ever been, about her knowing what happened to the real Liliana, and how he knew he’d be found eventually, but wanted to live the rest of his life with a clear conscience. “Who is Hugo to Alex?” Sadie said. “His brother?”

  “Very good,” Monty said. “Alex gave him everything he needed to have a successful life, and Hugo turned his nose up at it one time too many.”

  Hugo had said Liliana’s family had killed her. Had he been a part of it? Had it haunted him ever since? They came up on a construction sign, and Sadie hoped Monty would keep speeding like he was—maybe he’d catch the attention of a police officer. Monty saw the sign, too, however, and slowed down to meet the new speed limit.

  “The police have all the pieces,” Sadie said, watching the first orange barrels show up on the side of the road. “They’ll figure it out.”

  “But they won’t find me, will they? You didn’t tell them anything about me.” He turned to her and smiled. “Thanks for that, by the way.” He adjusted his position in his seat.

  “Megan knows what Alex is, doesn’t she? She knows what he does?”

  “Megan?” he repeated, lifting his eyebrows. “You mean Liliana.”

  “I mean Megan,” Sadie said sharply. “Liliana is dead, which is exactly where Megan will end up.”

  “I wouldn’t count on that,” Monty said. “Megan’s proved herself quite . . . malleable. Alex likes that.”

  “She’s hungry for the security Alex can give her,” Sadie whispered, feeling the pieces come together. Megan was willing to accept who he was and what he did—though Sadie wasn’t sure what those things were exactly, other than that they were illegal—because he could give her the security she wanted so much. It bothered Sadie to be able to make sense of that.