“Exactly!” he answered, cracking his knuckles. “Wouldn’t take much for the world to think she’s somewhere else. An easy enough hack. Plus, meet with Garrett when you know he’ll be at the station. We control the time and the place.”
His idea had merit, I had to give him that. After all, it wasn’t like Garrett and his wife were joined at the hip. I went back to the whiteboard and erased my initial design. I started to draw out what we’d do to orchestrate Nerd’s newsfeed hack, make it align what I knew of Garrett’s schedule. I added a sedative as one of our ingredients—a fast-acting sedative to use in Needle. We could knock Garrett out so he wouldn’t pursue me while I had his phone.
“Bring up a map. Go west of the city, say forty minutes by car.”
“Sixty miles an hour?” Nerd asked, clicking on the map app and measuring a distance.
“Does it matter?”
“Well, yes. Miles per hour and all. How far?”
“Okay, sixty,” I blurted, frustrated by the need for an unimportant detail. I walked over to his monitor, pointed to a location. “I need you to go here. Mark the location and text me the exact coordinates.”
“Exact coordinates? What am I doing there?”
“You’re going to dig a shallow grave.”
Nerd rolled his chair back, raising his hands. “Amy, we don’t have to do this.”
“Take it easy,” I told him. “I’m on board with your idea.” I motioned to the whiteboard, walked back to it, and underlined the part about the sedative.
“So you’ll knock him out, take his phone, leave him there . . .” Nerd recited. “But why the grave?”
“While you hack the press, make it say his wife missed some newsworthy function, I’ll take him to the location to show him the grave. He’ll take it as proof the job is done—”
“And when he leans over to look at it using the glow from his phone as a flashlight, you’ll sedate him,” Nerd said, finishing for me.
I nodded slowly, encouraging Nerd to join in. “And let’s make it one of those sedatives that splits your skull.”
“Vicious,” he added. “That’s just being mean.”
“I want him to wake up in the grave with his head feeling like an erupting volcano.”
“Doubt he’ll ever fuck with you again.”
“With us,” I corrected him. “He’ll never fuck with us.”
THIRTY-SEVEN
BLOOD. THE BITTER TASTE of it. A flash filled my eyes, and dizzying spots trailed in front of me like shooting stars. Pressure crushed the air from my lungs—Garrett’s hands had knocked me off balance with a single blow. I’d plunged Needle’s syringe into his arm, expecting him to fall forward, expecting him to fill the grave’s earthy hole. But that’s not what happened. Instead, a coppery taste was filling my mouth. All of our planning and preparation was over in a blink. The only idea I had now was to try and survive.
My view of Garrett dimmed. The world around him dimmed too. I tumbled toward the blackness that was passing out, tripping in the dirt, landing on my back with a heavy thump. My lungs collapsed in a rushed wheeze. A new swarm of pinpoint lights fluttered in front of me, dousing my mind, telling me it was okay to close my eyes. I shook my head and tried to get up, but Garrett jumped on top of me then, slamming me into the ground—his face in mine, the faint smell of mint on his breath. He’d begun to pant and sweat, and I hoped it was the drugs taking hold. I’d stamped Needle against his skin, plunging the syringe in, but he had jerked away too fast—I couldn’t be sure how much of the chamber had emptied.
“What’s this!?” he shouted in my face, a drizzle of spit spewing from his mouth.
He yanked my arm like a loose rope, drawing the limb tight enough to shout a boney pop. I tried to scream, but my voice was gone. He shoved his knee into my chest, squeezing my heart. I knew the move: the knee mount. All cops are trained to use it. My mind flashed with an image of Steve and John rehearsing it in our first apartment. The pin lights were fading—being replaced by a void as the last of my breath slipped from my lips. I was suffocating. I was going to pass out.
“Oh no you don’t.”
A sharp sting cut across my face like a razor. I blinked furiously, awakened by the violent throe. Garrett lifted his knee to let me breathe. I sipped at the air, trying to clear the fog. I sipped until I saw his contorted face above mine and his open hand sweeping the air again. The next slap pitched my head in the other direction. I shook the gray light from my eyes, coughing and spitting blood. He twisted my hand, ripped Needle from my finger.
“What are you doing?” I managed to get out.
He sneered down at me, but his expression was different this time—it turned my insides cold. I’d crossed a line. He was going to kill me. I was sure of it.
Garrett lifted his knee and blood rushed back into my chest. I rolled to my side, vomiting onto the dirt. I wrapped my hand around my elbow, certain he’d broken my arm. There was a sharp pain like a torn muscle, but I could move it.
“Nice toy!” he spat as he climbed back on top of me.
The mount—I heard Steve and John discussing how to do this one in my head. My chest wheezed, but I could still take in a breath.
Garrett sniffed at the air like a dog, smelling the fear on me. He licked his lips and gripped my face, his fingers clenched like a vise, pinching my cheeks and forcing my lips into a sour pucker. Needle was in my eye, hovering, threatening. His laugh turned heinous. Every muscle in my neck strained as I tried to turn away from the weapon I’d come to love.
“How many did you kill with this?” He flicked his fingers, releasing my face with a snap.
“Get off me!” I demanded, bucking my hips. Garrett ignored me, his face sweaty and gleaming in the pale light of the moon. I stretched beneath his weight and tried to take Needle from him, but I missed, seeing double and clutching at nothing. He chuckled at the attempt and opened the back of my ring.
“Look at that,” he said, rolling my ring over, emptying the chamber of the sedative. “And what might have that been? Some poison for me? Well, I suppose I should feel honored.”
And before I could say or do anything, he threw my ring. I froze and listened for the sound of Needle hitting the ground, thinking I could find her in the darkness. Tree branches clacked as a wind coursed through the wooded edge of the field, but I heard a thud, I was sure of it—soft and far—giving me at least a direction for a search.
“I’d never kill your wife!” I exclaimed, striking my closed hand against his chin.
He fell back, but only briefly. He rose up above me, his mouth curled in a crooked snarl. He lifted his hand and struck my face without a word. The world blinked, turning black for a moment, but stayed alive. This punch was weaker than the last one, leading me to think some of the sedative must have made it into his bloodstream. I punched him again, twisting his head with a sudden spin. He fell over and landed next to me, panting through thinned lips. There was confusion in his eyes.
The sedative, I heard Nerd’s voice say in my head. It’ll take a few minutes.
But Garrett only had a taste.
Did he have enough of a taste for me to get away?
I didn’t wait around to see. I rolled to my hands and knees, dragging myself away from him. Garrett flipped over, swiped at my leg, took hold of my ankle. His grip was overpowering, painful. I let out a scream.
“Try to . . . poison me . . .” he said in a soggy voice.
He was dosed!
“It was just a sedative!” I screamed at him, thinking there was still a remote possibility both of us would walk away from this. “That’s all. Just a sedative—to fuck with you.”
“My ass!” he yelled as he pulled his revolver. The gun hung lazily in the air—his hand drooped like a flag without wind. “You’re dead . . . going to be . . .”
I kicked with my other leg, connecting with his arm. The gun exploded with a boom, piercing the night and freezing time. The bullet hit the ground beside me, sending a fiery em
ber to buzz by my ear and lift up my hair. I kicked again, stronger this time, hard enough to hear bones break. The gun flew from his fingers, a glimpse of moonlight bouncing from the barrel before it disappeared into the night.
I got to my feet and scurried toward the shallow grave and the dark edge of the field. But Garrett was already up. He threw himself on top of me. We both landed in the dusty hole, my mouth filling with the taste of fresh earth.
Elbows, use your elbows, I heard Steve and John saying. I swung my arm, hitting a shoulder with the point of my good elbow. I swung again, hitting his chest with a thud. He squirmed, shoving his body onto mine, covering me so I couldn’t move. I stabbed again with the only weapon I had, hitting what I thought might be his neck or head. He fell forward. I felt his breath on my neck and the warm spill of blood.
I was breathing hard, panting beneath his weight, blackness circling like a threat. Garrett made groggy snoring sounds: wet and sluggish. I slithered from beneath his square frame, clutching at loose dirt to pull myself free. The edge of the woods lay waiting just twenty yards from us. I could get lost in there—lost enough to stay hidden until daybreak.
“Where you going?” he yelled again, grabbing my belt, digging his hand into the lip of my pants. He yanked me down, pulling me back into the grave. He rolled me onto my back, his arms flexed straight, his hands pinning my shoulders. “You’re tough . . . Give you that, but—”
He never finished. My knee was up faster than a trigger, crashing into his groin, doubling him over in a crying heap.
I had my chance, but I didn’t try to escape. I could have run and disappeared into the woods, but a dark desire forced my hands around his neck. Before I knew what I was doing, I was on top of Garrett, strangling him.
He bucked his hips and batted at my arms, but the sedative had already made him too weak to fight back. His face twisted in the struggle, blood streaming over his cheeks from his broken nose. A pink mist spewed from his mouth, telling me he was still getting air. I tightened my grip on his neck and pulled my legs together around him, squeezing and forcing the air from his body.
Run! I heard in my head.
But I ignored the voice, relishing in the sight of fear in his face. The whites of his eyes glowed like the moon, becoming veiny with tiny red eruptions. He was kicking now, tossing left and right, bucking with a newfound strength that comes when you’re close to dying—a survival instinct. I held on as if he were an amusement ride although the voice in my head was crying for me to let go, screaming that I wasn’t this person, couldn’t be like my mother.
“But I am,” I told the voice. “I am my mother!”
I bore down, shifting all my weight, pivoting up onto my shoulders, ignoring the pain in my elbow. The muscles in his neck went taut like corded rope, and his eyes bulged while he gasped like a fish out of water. I squeezed until my fingers dug into his skin. And then it was over—his body became lifeless beneath mine, his tensed muscles releasing with a rigid spasm. But I couldn’t stop. I rode him, driving myself against him until I knew every last drop of his life was gone.
I killed Garrett Williams.
I killed a man, just like my mother.
THIRTY-EIGHT
SAND BETWEEN MY TOES. The taste of salt on my lips. The smell of sea air. I slowed and then stopped to take it in. The ocean’s warm surf rushed over my feet and then retreated, the sands underfoot carried away by the strong current. I grabbed Steve’s hand, weaving my fingers with his. He held me as I lifted myself up and reached for his lips. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t question, didn’t say a word. He kissed me.
“A walk in the surf during sunset,” he said.
I nodded contentedly, agreeing. It was a perfect way to end an almost perfect day. I know that sounds sappy, but it’s true. A perfect day. We had needed one too. Time alone had magically made the last few months disappear. There’d been no homeless man or shooting. There’d been no lies or Katie dying, no sadness over losing our baby. And there’d been no Garrett or his phone or the video evidence. All of it was gone. Whatever wedge had been between us had been washed away with the surf.
Steve looked past me, searching the open ocean, as if waiting. I nudged him, curious to know his thoughts. He let out a grunt, a recognition that I was there. I nuzzled his chin—playful and romantic, hoping to stir a reaction. He mumbled some words about the beauty and tranquility, and that what was beneath the surface wasn’t what it seemed.
“It’s just an ocean,” I told him as I rested my body against his, listening to the thrum of his heart.
I moaned and slid my leg around him, wanting him to take me into his arms and kiss me passionately. But he didn’t. He hadn’t since before I’d lost our baby. Not once. But that was okay too. We were different now, and I was still trying to figure out who we were becoming. This was the weekend we would figure it out together.
The sound of gulls rained down from overhead, their hopeful calls searching for food where there was none. A feathery blur swooped and yelled, begging. We ignored the noise, and the birds flew toward a new commotion, a new sound—perhaps another couple watching the sunset too.
“Tide’s coming in,” I said as a salty spray reached my arms and turned my flesh bumpy with a chill.
The sunlight was the color of butter and it warmed my back. I turned to find a sliver of moon perched just above Steve’s shoulders. The moment was perfectly loving, and I thought I’d try again. After all, he was the one who had insisted on time away from the kids. I wrapped my arms around his neck and slumped into his body—a move practiced and rehearsed—matching my curves to his, finding what was familiar like a memory. He braced and leaned onto his bad leg, holding me. He feathered my sides with his fingers until his hands cradled the small of my back.
“How about a weekend away?” Steve had said, surprising me late Thursday night with plans for just the two of us.
His mother was in on it too, telling me to go, encouraging me with a tidy little gift bag. “Some goodies to pamper yourself,” she’d said.
I’d made excuses, but ten minutes into the discussion, I’d lost the argument and agreed to go. The truth was, I wanted to go. And not just for me, but for us.
An improvement, I thought, realizing how strong his leg was getting. I could have said something, but held my words, preferring to keep the moment about us. I know that sounds selfish, but I wanted the weekend to be about us. I missed us. And without a word, I grazed his lips with mine, slipping my tongue in just enough to gauge a reaction. He returned my kiss, and we disappeared from the world for a moment. Steve kissed me hard, but he was rigid, his body language telling me he wasn’t into it.
Maybe it was the news about Garrett Williams. Seven weeks had passed since I had killed the detective. School buses were on the road again, and children piled into their classrooms, seeing old friends and making new ones. The humid nights were gone too, and the air carried the taste of autumn. The summer was just a memory, and so was Detective Garrett Williams.
I worried something would come of his murder, but after a while, I fretted less. I wasn’t completely done worrying, though. Not yet. As a precaution, Nerd and I put a hold on our work—we shut down Team Two until we could be sure the links in his application were safe. Nerd also spread the news about the compromised software, sent a warning to owners to vacate all the Deep Web storefronts. That left us with nowhere to buy our supplies, our ingredients. In a sense, it was like starting over.
“We have to be certain nobody else is on to us,” Nerd warned.
That’s when his software really began to shine. Becky became our digital eyes and ears, spying behind the closed doors of police headquarters. We filled our downtime, our empty days, watching the station and the investigations. We’d started watching federal offices too—Becky’s reach had gone national. I’d never been a fan of reality television, but the day-to-day drama of the station kept us glued to our screens.
While Nerd enjoyed the criminal interviews and the booki
ngs, I found myself drawn to watching Steve and Detective Summer-red. Often, my mind raced with bizarre images, like their half-naked bodies huddled in a closet, twisted and groaning in a carnal heap. But the truth was, I never saw anything. I waited, though, waited for a flirty gesture or a lusty look when their days went late. But nothing happened. Nothing outside my imagination, anyway. Mostly, I saw Steve hard at work or taking a break to study his law books. I even tried texting as I had before, to see if he’d reply or ignore me again. He always picked up, always tapped a reply, and the sight of it always warmed me.
As for Detective Williams, there was less said about him every day. I suppose that’s what happens with murder cases. Time is the greatest relief valve for all that’s urgent. Sometimes, a criminal’s best friend is time. That, and a little patience. But even time won’t erase evidence . . . not all of it. Garrett’s murder had been like none of my others. I’d killed like my mother.
Like my mother, I heard in my head. I considered what I’d done again. My mind cramped as questions of that night surfaced again. Did he deserve to die? Was I careful?
“You okay?” Steve asked, lifting our hands to turn and face the ocean.
I blindly followed his lead, walking around to his side until the last of the day’s sunlight was on my shoulders again. It was late, and the sun was dropping from the sky like a tear, casting long shadows from our bodies. I gave him a short nod and reached for Needle. I knew my ring was gone, but I still searched for the comfort I’d found in holding it. I hated how the uncertainty made me question Garrett’s murder.
Did I leave any evidence? I was careful, wasn’t I?
The first news stories about the detective had begun with a missing-person’s report filed by Garrett’s wife. Later, she had gone on television, hitting all the popular talk shows, pleading to the public for any information. And with her wealth, she’d offered a handsome reward. A few days after her announcement, a tip came in that led the station to the detective’s car. In my mind, I saw every detail of where I’d parked it and how I’d wiped down the upholstery. I’d even taken care of the rifts my footprints had left in the arid dirt, used a tree branch to erase them as they led away from the driver’s door. Garrett’s car was clean.
Affair with Murder The Complete Box Set Page 47