by Brenda Novak
He threw up his hands while still hanging on to her phone. “Sometimes vasectomies don’t take. Clara just wanted it to be my baby so I’d rescue her from the terrible situation she was in.”
“A situation you only made worse.”
“I tried to help her!” he cried. “But I had no idea that would include leaving my wife!”
“Give me my phone.” Sloane reached out, but he shook his head.
“Not yet. We’re not finished talking. I need you to listen to me.”
He wanted her to do more than listen—he wanted her to believe whatever he said.
The solid granite top of the breakfast bar cut gently into Sloane’s back once she’d reached it. “What else is so important for me to hear?”
“Vickie only told you it was my baby so you’d believe your father killed your mother in a jealous rage. She didn’t stop to consider what that would do to me until she called me late last night, in tears. She wants your father to be punished for the way he treated her all those years ago, and the way he’s treated so many people, including your mother. She believes he deserves to go to prison.”
Sloane edged slowly around the island. “How did you know how to find this cabin, Brian? Have you been up here before?”
“No. Of course not. Vickie gave me directions when...when she told me you were coming up to search for your mother. She’s been here before, with your father.”
“If I called her right now and asked if she told you how to get here, what would she say?”
“She’d tell you what I just told you.”
The rain was coming down harder, pummeling the roof, and Sloane could hear thunder booming in the distance. “Then give me my phone. Let’s call her and ask.”
He came forward so quickly Sloane scooted even farther around the breakfast bar to remain on the opposite side from him.
“Look, I’m going to level with you,” he said. “I did sleep with your mother. I admit that. But I didn’t kill her. She called me from Vickie’s house the night she went missing, and I slipped out to pick her up while my wife slept. She had me bring her here—that’s how I knew where to find it. She wanted to get away from your father. They’d just had a big fight, and she was crying. I felt terrible for what she was going through, but I couldn’t divorce my wife, couldn’t break up my family. Ed would’ve made our lives miserable, for one. And what about the kids I already had? I couldn’t afford to support two families, not on a teacher’s salary!”
Sloane swallowed against a dry throat. She’d been blaming her father for so long. “So you brought her here—and then what?”
“I couldn’t stay long. I had to get back before my wife realized I was gone. So I told her we’d talk later. I thought she was safe, that she’d have some time to recover and work things out with your father. It wasn’t as if that was their first fight. They fought all the time!”
“She was alive when you left.”
“Yes!”
“And that’s the last you saw of her.”
“Yes,” he said again, every bit as emphatically. “That’s why I never accused Ed of harming her. I didn’t know if she hitchhiked out of here and left, if someone broke in and killed her or if he came up here and killed her himself. But I knew better than to push the issue. If it was him, he’d only twist everything that happened that night to make me look like the guilty party, since I’d also been with her. And the police would believe him over me any day. I was just a lowly teacher, and he was the wealthiest man in town!”
Vickie had told Sloane her father had taken the boat out that night, which led Sloane to believe he might have come up here after Brian left. But she now understood that Vickie had her own agenda, so was she any more reliable than Brian?
“There isn’t enough evidence to convict anyone of her death,” Sloane said, trying to reassure and calm him so she could retrieve her phone and get safely out of Granbury.
“But if you tell anyone she was pregnant with my baby, word will get back to my wife. She knows a lot of people in Millcreek. We lived there for years. And she’s still resentful over the affair. If it goes public, she’ll be humiliated and so will I. Not only will it wreck my marriage, it’ll get me kicked out of my church—and I can’t allow that. I’ve worked too long and too hard to earn the respect of those around me to have my life fall to pieces because of a mistake I made twenty-three years ago.”
Sloane didn’t dare do anything to antagonize him. He was already on edge, looked as though he hadn’t slept since she first contacted him. “I won’t tell anyone. I’m not out to ruin your marriage or get you in trouble with your church.”
Instead of relaxing, as she’d hoped, he narrowed his eyes. “You haven’t told anyone?”
“No, I—I haven’t.” She hated that she’d stuttered, but her heart was pounding so hard she was afraid he could hear it. And he was coming toward her in such a purposeful way. With the storm raging outside and the neighbors so far off, he could get away with anything.
“Then give me your password so I can take a peek at your text messages and call history. If everything looks good, maybe I’ll believe you.”
And if it didn’t look good? What would he do? When she’d stopped for gas this morning, she’d been texting with Randy—the same old argument—but the fact that their mother had been pregnant when she went missing had been a big part of their exchange. She might even have texted something to Micah over the past few days. She couldn’t remember anything specific, but he was a cop. What would Brian Judd make of that?
Almost as soon as she had those thoughts, she realized Judd wouldn’t let this all boil down to what was in her phone, anyway. Just because she hadn’t texted someone so far didn’t mean she wouldn’t or that she hadn’t told someone in person. Judd needed her password for other reasons, and she was afraid she knew what those reasons were. If he had access to her phone, he could attempt to throw off any investigation that followed by pretending to be her. He could text Micah, her father or anyone else saying she was leaving Millcreek—for good this time—and they’d assume it was her. Then no one would even look for her.
Brian Judd was far more dangerous than she’d ever dreamed. This whole thing—everything he’d said so far—had been an act. He’d already made up his mind about what had to be done.
She eyed the door, trying to gauge whether or not she could make it past him and out of the house before he caught her.
“Don’t.” He lowered his voice in warning. “Please. Don’t make me do something I’ll regret, because I can’t let you wreck my life.”
Letting her live would wreck his life. She knew the truth, could talk at any time. “Hurting me will only make things worse for you,” she said. “Do you really want to spend the rest of your life in prison?”
“If my wife finds out, my life will be over regardless. So what difference does it make? At least this way, I have a chance of salvaging everything that matters to me.”
“Because my father will get the blame...”
“If there’s an investigation. No one bothered to look for your mother.”
And this situation was frighteningly similar. Her father wanted her gone, would be relieved instead of concerned if she disappeared and would squash any investigation for fear it would focus on him and dredge up the suspicion surrounding him for the murders of his parents and brother—just like when Clara disappeared.
“You’re making a mistake, Brian,” she said, trying to stall until she could figure out what to do. “Another one.”
“I have no choice,” he responded.
Where had he stashed her purse? The keys to her car were inside it. So even if she got out of the cabin, where would she go? “Is that how it was with my mother? You felt cornered? As if you had no choice?”
“Yes,” he admitted. “That’s exactly it!”
“So what’d you do to her?
” She motioned to the rest of the cabin. “Where’d you put her body?”
“Not in here. We didn’t even come to the cabin that night. This is where she wanted me to take her. We’d been here before—twice. But this night was different. Everything was about to come out—the affair, the pregnancy. I had to do something. So I drove her out in the middle of nowhere and left her.”
Sloane caught her breath. “Without the means to get back? That’s how you killed her?”
He winced as if it wasn’t a pleasant memory. “It’s not something I’m proud of. I was desperate. I’m sorry I ever got involved with her. I only did it because I felt sorry for her.”
“If you regret it, don’t make what you’ve done even worse.”
“I’m committed now. There’s no going back. So unless you want me to drive you to the same place I took her, and leave you with no phone or purse or shoes—not even a jacket—you’ll tell me the password for this damn phone.”
“Oh my God! You let a pregnant woman—my mother—die a slow, horrible death!”
He glanced around, saw the kitchen knives on the counter near him and grabbed one. “I’ve told you, I only did what I had to do!”
That was what he believed he was doing now. So what was she going to do? Sloane had no better choice than to run to the closest cabin and hope someone was home. If she could get help, she might be able to save her own life.
Slumping as though she was giving in, she said, “282328.”
He had to put down the knife in order to enter those numbers. The minute he did, she swiped at it, managed to knock it to the floor and darted around the island. She had to make a break for it, couldn’t wait any longer. The second that password didn’t work he’d know she’d been lying to him.
Too bad she wasn’t as quick as she’d hoped. She didn’t get halfway across the living room before he grabbed hold of her hair and yanked her down.
* * *
The drive to the lake seemed interminable, especially with the weather making Micah go slower than he wanted. He wasn’t even sure he’d be able to find the cabin after he arrived. Before leaving Millcreek, he’d called the police in Granbury and asked them to check on the McBride place. The sergeant he’d spoken to said he’d send someone, but the same sergeant had also said there’d been a big traffic accident due to the sudden change in weather and because of some flash flooding, the road might not yet be clear.
Micah hadn’t heard anything since. He didn’t know if anyone had been able to get through or if he’d be able to get through when he arrived. Even if he wasn’t held up, he still didn’t know the address to the cabin. The lake was located in Granbury, a town small enough he felt he could ask around and probably get directions, but the sergeant on the phone hadn’t been willing to give him that information. The sergeant couldn’t, in case Micah was the problem and not Brian Judd. Micah hoped a regular citizen wouldn’t think to be that cautious. In his experience, they normally weren’t.
While Micah pushed the speed limit as much as he could, given the terrible weather, he kept trying to reach Sloane. He was fairly certain she’d turned her phone back on, since it now rang four times before transferring to voice mail.
So why wasn’t she answering?
Right in the midst of his panic and frustration, he received a call from his mother. She’d heard the news of his suspension.
“Paige is claiming you held a gun to her head?” she cried.
The news was spreading fast, just as he’d expected. By the time he returned, everyone he cared about would know.
He explained that it wasn’t true and hung up knowing his family would stand behind him. Although he’d asked his mother not to call Chief Adler, he had the sneaking suspicion she was already on the phone to him. She was too outraged to resist. But she wouldn’t get anywhere. Nothing would or could change until Paige retracted the lie, and he still couldn’t reach her.
He was only five minutes outside Granbury—at last—and still hadn’t heard from the police or Sloane when Paige’s father called.
“You son of a bitch!” he yelled the second Micah picked up.
Apparently, the Pattersons had heard, too. “I didn’t do it,” Micah said simply.
“You better not have done it! I’ll kill you with my bare hands if you did.”
That was a ridiculous thing to say. Burt wouldn’t be able to do anything to Micah, especially with his bare hands—not if Micah knew he was coming. But Micah understood the sentiment behind those words and, after wrestling with an upwelling of rage himself, he managed to keep his voice calm. “Take it easy.”
“You want me to take it easy when you threatened my little girl—the mother of your child—with a gun?”
“I never threatened her, not with anything!”
“You’re saying she’s lying?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying!” His own tension, and the fear he felt for Sloane, were beginning to ratchet ever higher. This wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have right now, but he was curious whether Paige had finally shown up or at least called someone, so he stayed on the line, hoping to find out.
“Why would she lie after you’ve been divorced for a year? No,” he said. “It’s just coming out now how bad your marriage was, what my daughter put up with. And to think she never even told me! That’s what kills me. I would’ve been there for her. Hell, I still liked you, even after you broke her heart!”
“I never harmed Paige, Burt, never even threatened to harm her—with my gun or otherwise. Have you talked to her today?”
“I haven’t. She’s at a trade show—”
“She can talk on the phone at a trade show, Burt. She’s done it before. She’s just not picking up. Think about that. If what she’s saying about me is true, why won’t she defend her own words?”
“Do you know how much she still loves you?” Burt countered. “How hard it must be for her to come forward with this, given what it will do to you?”
Micah gripped the steering wheel so tightly he thought he might rip it off. “You’re wrong! I have no idea what this is about. I can’t reach Paige, either. But I hope to find out soon.”
“Don’t you dare call her. Don’t you come within twenty feet of her! And that goes for Trevor, too. If we have our say, you’ll never see him again!”
“Your daughter’s lies had better not cost me my son!” Micah growled, but it was too late. Burt had hung up and wouldn’t answer when Micah called back.
* * *
Thankfully, Brian Judd hadn’t had time to retrieve the knife Sloane had knocked away before he came after her. He’d had to move instantly, grab her before she could get away. But it didn’t matter. He was stronger than she’d imagined. After dragging her to the floor, he used the weight of his body to pin her down, and now he had his hands around her throat.
She felt helpless as he squeezed, cutting off her air. She had only a few seconds—a minute at most—before she passed out. Then Brian Judd could do whatever he wanted. He could keep choking her until she was dead or use something else to kill her—the knife, perhaps—before burying her in the yard or throwing her body in the lake.
She could hear her phone buzzing. He’d dropped it somewhere between the breakfast bar and the living room floor. It was probably Micah, trying to get hold of her to be sure she was safe.
The mere thought of Micah made her wish she’d waited until he could be here with her...
She needed to answer that phone, to tell him what’d happened to her mother and what was happening to her so that someone would know, so that Brian Judd wouldn’t get away with another murder.
“I don’t want to do this.” Tears filled his eyes and began to roll down his cheeks, but he didn’t back off. “Why did you force me into this?” he railed. “Why did you ever come back?”
Her mind raced as she stared up into his eyes, which w
ere filled with a madness she’d never dreamed could exist inside a person who otherwise seemed so functional, so normal. She had to figure out how to save her own life, but there was nothing she could do. He was too strong, and he had all the leverage. As much as she tried, she could not break his hold. She couldn’t knee him in the groin, either—not with the way he was stretched out on top of her. Although she was fighting as best she could, she wasn’t making any impact, and against so much weight, her energy was dwindling fast.
I’m going to die. She almost couldn’t believe it—that this would be how it all ended for her. The same man who’d murdered her mother was going to murder her.
But if that was going to happen, she was going to leave her mark, at least, she decided. His face, if nothing else, would tell the tale of what went on here this day.
She stopped trying to break his hold or wiggle out from underneath him and used her nails to gouge his cheeks.
He cursed when she drew blood but didn’t let go. He knew he had to hold on for only a few more seconds.
But then she went for his eyes.
He tried to turn his head and didn’t do it soon enough. She felt something wet right before the crushing pressure on her windpipe gave way and he covered his face, groaning in agony.
The big gulp of air she sucked in gave her a surge of fresh energy she used to twist and buck, knocking him slightly off center. He lifted up, trying to catch his balance with his knees, but that only gave her the opportunity to use hers. She brought her right leg up as hard as she could, hitting him squarely in the groin.
As he cried out and fell to one side, she started kicking frantically, like a woman possessed. Escape. Escape. Do anything you have to do, she ordered herself, and kept kicking until she was free.
After scrambling to her feet, she grabbed the lamp on the side table and swung it at his head like a bat. He was just trying to get up, so he wasn’t prepared for the blow, wasn’t expecting it, and the sound it made—as well as the sound he made—told her she’d done significant damage. When he fell this time, she thought maybe she’d killed him. He had blood oozing from his temple, staining the carpet in an ever widening pool. But she didn’t stop to see if he was okay. Her legs felt like rubber; she had to use what strength she had left to get away.
