Exposed

by Lisa Scottoline

  “What about hunters? Dogs? Somebody goes huntin’ or hikin’ with a dog in the woods and the dog finds the bodies. And before you know it, somebody calls the cops and there’s my bullet.”

  “You’re worrying about nothing. This is what I’m telling you, you’re getting paranoid.”

  “You think I’m paranoid?”

  “Yes, I think you’re paranoid.”

  “I don’t care if you think I’m paranoid. Let’s say I’m paranoid. If Mo is so damn sure that he knows where these bodies can be buried, let’s use his gun.”

  “What? Why? What gives here? That’s not the plan—”

  “You just said you didn’t know what the plan was. You hadn’t figured it out yet! Now you’re telling me it’s not the plan to use Mo’s gun? What the hell, Ray? Don’t pee on my leg and tell me it’s raining.”

  “I don’t want to say yes without checking with him. I don’t even know if he’s bringing it.”

  “Call him and ask him to bring it.”

  “I can’t, there’s no cell reception.”

  “Use the landline. I saw one in the bedroom.”

  Mary felt a bolt of fear at the sound. If they came in here now, she was dead. She reached the base of the night table, lying at the leg. She was in so much pain she could barely think. She wasn’t sure what to do next. She had to get the phone off the table. She tried to free her hands but the duct tape held tight.

  “I don’t want to call him. We’ll talk when he gets here. What’s the rush?”

  “What time’s he getting here then?”

  “He had to stay late at work. Two hours.”

  “That was two hours ago. He should be here by now.”

  “Maybe he got hung up. Maybe there was traffic. What the hell is your problem?”

  Mary had to get the phone off the table. She struggled to sit up, so she could knock the phone onto the floor with her shoulder, but she didn’t have the strength to raise her upper body. She felt dizzy and weak. She slumped back down.

  “Did he say he was bringin’ his gun?”

  “Of course he’s bringing it.”

  “How do you know? Did you ask him? You’re the master planner. Or did you make sure that mine was the only gun? So we had to use mine—”

  “No, I didn’t!”

  “So, did you ask him if he was bringin’ his gun?”

  “No, I didn’t have to! He keeps it in the truck!”

  Mary heard the conversation go from tense to heated. Ernie and Ray were starting to yell at each other. She hoped the shouting would hide whatever noise she made if the phone dropped. She had to wait for the moment. She held her breath. She had to make the right move. If she blew it, they would come in and kill her. Her head pounded hard. So did her heart.

  “Ernie, what the hell are you trying to say? What is your problem?”

  “Okay, you want to know what I’m sayin’? I’m sayin’ that I don’t know if I trust you anymore, pal!”

  “What are you talking about? We’ve worked together fifteen years!”

  “But we never killed nobody! I’m startin’ to see you using me! You’re treatin’ me like garbage! Like I do your dirty work and you’re the puppet master!”

  “How?”

  “You and Mo are family, I’m on the outs! I started to think, what if I kill these women and we don’t all drive home together? What if you two decide to off me and go your merry way?”

  “Why would we do that?”

  “It solves all your problems, doesn’t it? Somehow you stage the scene so you frame me for murderin’ the women and you guys are gone! You’ll never have to worry about me spillin’ the beans! You guys are brothers! Lookin’ out for each other! You always have!”

  “Since when?”

  Mary lay on the floor, blinking her eyes, trying to keep them clear of blood. Suddenly she spotted a phone wire running down the side of the night table. It was only six inches away. She went toward it, dolphining to the side of the night table.

  “Since forever! That’s how we got into this in the first place! You and Mo usin’ the cheap wiring! The cheap drywall, too. The units wouldn’ta burned so fast if you used the five-eighths of an inch! The burn rate’s slower in the good stuff, but he’s paddin’ the bottom line at PowerPlus and you’re gettin’ a cut!”

  “Don’t get high and mighty! You kept your mouth shut! We paid you fair and square!”

  “So you say! What’s a fair cut? I don’t know if what you’re tellin’ me is true! You and Mo are thick as thieves!”

  “Ernie, calm down! What you’re saying doesn’t make any sense! Mo is on the way with the lye! We’re going to shoot these bitches, bury the bodies, and be done with it! We’re a yard from the end zone here!”

  “How do I know he’s bringin’ lye? I don’t think he’s bringin’ any lye! I think you’re just waitin’ for him! I think that’s your plan! Then he comes up, you shoot me, and you leave DiNunzio’s car in the driveway with my car! You two go home in his truck, after I’m dead!”

  “Ernie, you’re out of your mind! There’s no way! We’re in this together! He’s bringing the lye! That much we planned! The details about which gun we use, fine, whatever, we’ll use his gun if that’s what you want!”

  “That’s what I want! I want to use his gun!”

  “Fine, we will!”

  Mary got her face right next to the wire and tried to grab it with her lips behind the gag. She got it on the third try, struggling to breathe. She waited for the right moment to pull the phone off the table. She remembered that landlines used to be heavy and noisy. If the shouting kept up, she had a fighting chance. Then all she had to do was press 911 with her nose. For the first time in her life, she thanked God she had a big nose.

  “And I want him to shoot the women, Ray! I don’t want to shoot the women! You say it doesn’t matter? It matters to me! I don’t shoot women!”

  “Okay, he’ll do it! Sheesh! Just sit down! Let’s sit down! Get out of my face! I feel like you’re coming at me!”

  “I’m tellin’ you, I don’t like this, Ray! It stinks to high heaven!”

  “Ernie, sit down. Let’s sit down. You need to calm down. Cool down. You want a beer? I’ll get you beer.”

  “No, I don’t want a beer.” Ernie huffed loudly.

  “Good, sit down. Take a breath. Geez, this is getting out of control.”

  “Ray, don’t tell me what’s gettin’ out of control. What’s out of control is that we got away with killin’ Todd and now you want me to kill two women. One is a famous lawyer. You think the cops are gonna let that go? I don’t think so. And it’s all on me. I won’t do it. I’ve done enough. I’m out.”

  “Okay, you’re out,” Ray said flatly, and suddenly, there was a shout and a terrifying burst of gunfire, pop pop pop pop!

  Mary tried not to think about the horror of what was happening in the next room. She’d only get one chance. She tugged the phone cord. The phone came tumbling down on her head. She managed not to cry out in pain. The phone landed on the rag rug. The receiver fell right near her face.

  Pop, pop! came more gunfire, and then there was silence.

  Mary had to act. Ray had killed Ernie. Ray was going to shoot her and Bennie next. She didn’t have a moment to lose. She heard a dial tone from the receiver.

  She wiggled into position to call 911.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Bennie lay on her back, her feet pushing against the bottom part of the door. She ignored her rib pain, her will to survive in charge. She wished she could kick the door open, but she was too weak and she worried about making noise. The bottom of the door was the weakest, it must have rotted where rain had collected and snow had piled up.

  She kept pressing and pressing, making isometric pulses, like killer lunges against the door, one after the next. She had been an elite rower in her younger days, almost making the Olympic team, and her thunder thighs were coming in handy.

  She grunted with pain, pushing against th
e bottom of the door, feeling the boards weaken and finally begin to creak beneath her feet. She kept the pressure on and heard them splinter, then pressed harder, listening for the tiny breaks in the wood fibers as they gave way, her sense of hearing more acute because she couldn’t see anything.

  Bennie’s feet burst through the door, sticking out the other side, then she shifted down, breaking through the hole with her calves, then her knees, and finally her whole body, sliding out of the smokehouse on her back.

  Bennie rolled over on her side, then partway up, and staggered to her feet, blindfolded and handcuffed behind her back with the duct tape. She was finally outside, breathing in a deep lungful of fresh night air, ignoring the aches and pains, masked by another surge of adrenaline. She had to get going.

  She hurried forward, hearing twigs and old leaves under her feet. Thorns scratched her ankles. She was in some kind of underbrush, and sooner or later, she knew she would hit a tree. In fact, she needed a tree. She turned around, walking backwards to mitigate any injury to her face, and she finally walked into a tree, from behind.

  She had to hurry. She rubbed her duct-taped wrist up and down against the tree, feeling its rough bark scratch and tear her skin. The duct tape was on tight. The only way to get it off was remove it along with her skin.

  She rubbed and rubbed, ignoring the pain and the blood, flaying her own skin until she finally rubbed off a section of the duct tape and broke her hands free. Her fingers flew to her blindfold and she ripped it off, whirling around to get the lay of the land.

  The smokehouse was behind her at the top of the hill, but down in the valley she could see a small clapboard cabin with a peaked roof. It had a yellow bug light out front, and the wood looked as weathered as the smokehouse. Some of the windows were open, and she heard voices coming from within, Ernie and Ray shouting.

  Suddenly she heard a fusillade of gunfire, pop pop pop pop!

  The horrific noise rattled her teeth and jolted her senses, galvanizing her into action. She hustled down the hill toward the cabin, darting from tree to tree to keep from view. She prayed that they hadn’t shot Mary.

  Bennie scanned the area as she ran. The woods were dark, and there were no lights from phones or flashlights. She didn’t know if the shooting had been outside or inside. Ray and Ernie could be outside. She didn’t know where Mo was. She hadn’t heard any cars but she wouldn’t have necessarily.

  She hurried downhill to the cabin, her head wheeling around the entire time. The cabin was small, maybe two-bedroom, with the front door on the far right side of the front wall under a rickety shed roof and a window. The bedrooms must have been to the left. Lights were on inside, and the ambient light lit the area around the house.

  Bennie veered left as she scurried down the hill. She knew at some level that she was in pain from her ribs, but she didn’t feel a thing. Two cars were parked to the right on a dirt driveway, Mary’s and a dark sedan that Bennie must have been brought in.

  She scurried around the bedroom side of the cabin, using the trees as cover, her heart in her throat. She gave the cabin a wide berth and got level with the window in the front bedroom, which was lit from within. Bennie looked inside. The bedroom was empty and the door was open.

  Bennie kept running around the cabin and came to the second bedroom, which was also lit. The bed was empty but the door was closed, which told her that Mary must be inside. They wouldn’t leave Mary in the bedroom with the door open. Bennie prayed she was still alive.

  She wished she had a weapon, but there was nothing. She looked around for a rock but there wasn’t one. None of the tree limbs was small enough for her to break off for a club. She was racking her brain when a pickup appeared, approaching the cabin from the driveway side. She jumped behind a tree just as the truck’s high beams raced over her tree.

  She held her breath, her heart thundering. The high beams swept away, leaving her in darkness. It had to be Mo. The pickup drove up the driveway and parked next to the other cars. The ignition shut off, and the big engine rattled into silence.

  The driver’s-side door opened and the interior dome light went on, illuminating the driver as he climbed out of the truck. He was a slim blond man who Bennie didn’t recognize, probably Mo.

  Mo walked around the cabin to the front, and Bennie lost sight of him, which was when she realized something. She had a weapon. It had just arrived. She scurried around the back of the cabin and raced for Mo’s pickup. It was a big black one with a massive engine.

  She reached the truck and crept to the passenger side, then around the back bumper so she wouldn’t be seen from the cabin. She hustled to the driver’s side, opening the door quietly. She slid into the driver’s seat, relieved to see the keys were still in the ignition.

  Straight ahead lay the sidewall of the cabin, which had two windows into the living room. She could see that Ernie had been shot to death in a chair. His chest leaked blood. His head hung backwards at a hideously unnatural angle.

  Ray and Mo stood next to him, talking. Bennie didn’t wait to hear what they were saying. Ray stood on the left and Mo on the right. She could get them both, with any luck. Mary’s bedroom door was closed. If Mary wasn’t dead already, she was going to be in the next five minutes.

  Bennie slipped on the seat belt, visualizing the steps in her mind. She had to do it all at once before Ray and Mo had time to realize what was happening. If they got out of the cabin, she’d never be able to get them. They’d shoot her and Mary.

  She twisted on the ignition and stomped on the gas pedal. The truck zoomed forward instantly, its high-volume engine roaring to life and its back tires spitting gravel and dirt. Bennie hung on tight, powered ahead, and drove the truck directly into the cabin.

  The truck exploded through the wall with a deafening crash. Bennie rocked but the seat belt held her. Clapboard busted. Windows shattered. Glass flew. Electrical wires got yanked out.

  Bennie plowed all the way into the living room. The truck hit Mo, crushing his chest. The impact sent him flying backwards against the wall between the bedrooms. The sight horrified her but it was kill or be killed. Mary’s door blew open.

  Ray lunged out of the way, diving for the floor. A gun flew from his hand and went sailing into the air as he fell.

  Bennie braked, tore off the seat belt, and leapt from the driver’s seat to get the gun. Ray lunged for the gun at the same time. Bennie was there first. She had almost reached it when Ray grabbed her ankle and yanked her backwards. The gun slipped from her grasp.

  “No!” Bennie screamed in pain and fear.

  “You bitch!” Ray jumped on her, grabbed her hair, and slammed her face into the wood floor. Her forehead pounded but she stayed conscious. She kicked backwards, torqued her body, and flipped him behind her, so she was lying on top of him face-up.

  Ray hooked his forearm around her throat. Bennie clawed his arm, trying to pry his fingers off, raking his skin. His grip got tighter. He grunted with effort and satisfaction. She gagged, coughing, momentarily helpless. He was going to strangle her. The gun was far away from them both.

  Suddenly Bennie spotted Mary, her hands and feet bound with duct tape, wriggling on her stomach toward Mo’s crumpled body. Mary was gagged, her features barely recognizable through the blood. Still Mary started making urgent noises in her throat, as if she were trying to tell Bennie something.

  Then Bennie saw what Mary meant.

  There was a gun lying on the floor next to Mo. Mo must have had a gun on him, tucked into the back of his waistband. It had come out when he’d fallen.

  Bennie felt her head growing light. She gagged and coughed. She couldn’t breathe. Ray was choking her from behind. He was strangling her, squeezing her neck in the crook of his forearm.

  Bennie looked directly at Mary. Their gazes connected. They both knew they had one last chance. Bennie knew what she had to do. And she knew it was the time to do it. So did Mary.

  Bennie mustered every last bit of strength in her body, pul
led down on Ray’s forearm, and savagely kicked backwards at his ankles, again and again.

  Ray’s grip loosened, giving Bennie a split second of air. Gasping, she tore his arm off her neck, scrambled up, and lunged for Mo’s gun. He caught her by the sleeve but it ripped off.

  She grabbed the gun from the floor, whipped the barrel around, and started firing. Ray was already in motion, coming after her.

  Pop pop pop, went the gun. Fire burst from the muzzle. The air filled with smoke and cordite.

  Bennie kept firing, emptying the gun. Bullets struck Ray in the stomach and legs. He dropped to his knees. Blood burst like red blooms from every bullethole. He fell face-first to the floor. The wounds weren’t fatal, but he was immobilized.

  Bennie dropped the gun and whirled back to Mary. Mary lay motionless on the floor, her hands taped cruelly behind her. The back of her head was bloodied and her hair matted with dried blood.

  “Mary!” Bennie knelt beside her, turned her over gently, and picked the bloody gag from her mouth. “Mary, are you okay?”

  Mary nodded, coughing.

  “Thank God!” Bennie looked frantically around. There were two phones on the ground, probably Mo’s. One was the company smartphone, probably password-protected, and the other was a burner phone. She grabbed the burner with her free hand. “Don’t worry, I’m calling 911!”

  “I already did … on the landline,” Mary said hoarsely, then resumed coughing. “I couldn’t talk … but I think they can tell where we are…”

  Bennie looked around for the landline, praying that Mary could stay alive until help got here.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Mary felt only dimly aware of what happened next. There was a lot of commotion with her at the center. Paramedics and police filled the cabin to bursting. They swarmed around her, taking her vital signs and putting her on a stretcher, then fitting an oxygen mask to her face and a stiff plastic collar around her neck. They placed orange foam blocks on either side of her head, then lifted her onto a gurney and wheeled her outside.