Last Girl Standing

by Jackson, Lisa

  Harry snickered. “What about her?”

  Clarice looked at Delta. “I’ve got her.”

  Delta poised her muscles, ready to jump, but Clarice pulled a pistol from the small of her back and aimed it straight at her. “I will shoot you,” she said conversationally. “I would prefer not to, but I will.”

  Harry walked around her and through the other garage door, which was still open.

  “That’s Zora’s car,” Delta said through a dry throat.

  Clarice glanced at the white Mercedes. “Yes, it is. We weren’t sure what to do with it. She followed Brian to Anne’s house. Her empty house, I should say. Anne’s good about telling me what she’s doing. We’re good friends. Everyone thought we were rivals, but . . . well, Brian’s no prize. He looked better when he inherited, but dear little Zora snapped him right up. Oh, Anne doesn’t know about me. She only knows about Clarice, the educator and counselor.”

  Delta wasn’t following. Her mind was still filled by the image of Amanda’s dead body hanging from her window. She had to get away. Now. While Harry was off doing his deed.

  “Then . . . inspiration. We would take Zora’s car to Amanda’s. I had the keys . . . a little gift from her husband, who I’ve known for years. He’s a cheater too. Just like Tanner.”

  Keep her talking. Buy time.

  “You killed Zora and Brian,” Delta said, tensing. Could she jump forward? Could she survive a shot?

  No! You have Owen to think of.

  But I can’t stay here!

  “Brian was becoming a problem. He was stupid in love, starting to tell Zora about me. We were waiting for him at Anne’s. Just him. But then Zora showed up too, and we had to improvise. Put ’em in the car and over the cliff.” She smiled thinly. “You Five Firsts . . . Clarice thought you were ridiculous.”

  “You’re not Clarice?” asked Delta carefully.

  “I just told you. Clarice is a construct. I’m not crazy. No multiple personalities or any of that shit,” she added. “Clarice is my given name, but I’m not her. She’s just the angel I play.”

  “Why are you doing this?” The question was ripped from her soul.

  “Men are easy to control, but women are relentless.” She shook her head. “I’ve had to do things I really didn’t want to. It started a long time ago. Your class . . . I made mistakes. I can admit that. I was far more reckless in those days. Didn’t think enough about self-preservation. I’ve been having to do a lot of cleanup.”

  “You killed Tanner.”

  “He was going to out me. After all these years. I was shocked. Really shocked. That chapter at West Knoll High was long over. This guy, this cheating, arrogant bastard was having a crisis of conscience? He had a son. He needed to be ‘a better man.’ That was what he said. I could’ve laughed, but he was going to tell you about all the women he’d cheated with and beg your forgiveness. I doubt he would’ve gone through with it. He couldn’t ever keep his dick in his pants. I’m sure you know that, too. But I couldn’t take the chance. I watched the clinic, and the night came when he stayed after everyone else had left. I confronted him, warned him that it would ruin him too, but he wouldn’t listen. And the knife was there, on his desk. Just like it was supposed to be. I picked it up when he wasn’t looking, followed him out, and . . .” She sighed. “I gave him one last chance, but he was stubborn. He sealed his own fate. I didn’t know how perfect it would be with you showing up right afterward and picking up the knife!”

  Delta heard a hard thunk outside and felt ill. Amanda’s body hitting the ground.

  “Don’t move,” Clarice ordered, sensing Delta’s panic, sighting down the pistol.

  Crash!

  The noise from outside caused both Delta and Clarice to jump. Then Clarice cocked an ear, moved closer to Delta, and doubled down on her terrorism as she leveled the barrel of the pistol at her forehead.

  Have to keep her talking. Lower the tension. Keep yourself alive . . .

  “How . . . did you know that I picked up the knife? That wasn’t public information,” Delta asked, licking dry lips.

  “Hal Brennan isn’t my only powerful friend.”

  Someone in the police department? Not McCrae, never McCrae, she prayed, knowing he was too honorable, but scared anyway. And not Quin. He was a justice seeker. More so after Bailey’s death.

  “The special investigator,” Delta realized.

  “You’re very good. Surprising really, given what you were in high school. Beauty, no brains. Clarice always had both, and it’s served her well.”

  Footsteps. Harry was returning. Delta tensed, testing her bonds.

  Now or never!

  BANG.

  Clarice’s shot zinged past Delta’s ear. She screamed and froze.

  “Stay put,” Clarice warned her coldly.

  “What the fuck?” Harry demanded, running into the garage.

  Only it wasn’t Harry. It was another man who bore a resemblance to him. Hulking and scraggly.

  Crassleys. She’d never really known them, though she’d heard about them for years.

  “What happened? Where’s Harry?” Clarice demanded.

  “We had some trouble. He’s here.”

  “Where, Booker?” she snapped.

  He half-turned, and Clarice followed his gaze outside the open garage door.

  They could hear someone coming, though it sounded like they were dragging something across the tarmac. A body? Amanda’s body?

  God, please, no. Delta steeled herself, but it wasn’t Amanda Harry flung onto the garage floor.

  It was Ellie.

  * * *

  Ellie hadn’t felt like waiting for Delta any longer and knew she’d just gotten the brush-off. Well, no more.

  She’d been driving home, thinking, and decided to turn around and break in on their lawyer/client meeting. But she was famished, so she ran up the steps to her apartment, hit the refrigerator, and groaned when there was no food. She needed sustenance to continue, and she was bound and determined to continue.

  There was only one drive-thru in West Knoll, and it was a coffee shop that closed at 9:30. She raced into the drive-thru lane and had to get out and rap on the window. The girl shook her head and pointed at the clock.

  “There are three minutes left!” Ellie screamed.

  Reluctantly, the girl opened the window, and Ellie ordered a maple scone, the only item left from the day’s sales. She munched it as she drove to Amanda’s, dropping crumbs, not caring. As she turned in the Forsythe drive, she thought she saw a figure move in the shadows of an oak tree, and she dropped the remainder of her muffin into the footwell.

  “Shit.” She looked down, her foot on the brake.

  Crash!

  The driver’s window burst in. Ellie moved her foot from the brake to the accelerator, and the Escort jumped forward, but the assailant had thrown his upper body inside and grabbed Ellie by the neck. She fought him, scratching and clawing as the car slowed to a stop. Ellie’s toe sought to find the accelerator again, intending to rush forward and throw him out, but then everything went black.

  * * *

  “You killed her?” Delta whispered in horror.

  “Nah, she’s alive,” Harry said.

  “Was that crash her car?” Clarice snapped.

  “Had to smash the window in.”

  “Damn you, Harry. Another vehicle . . .” She looked ready to explode.

  “Bitch’s lawyer’s down from the window,” he informed her with an uncaring shrug.

  Clarice thought hard for a moment. “Good. Suicide.” Then, referring to Delta, said, “Tie her to the chair.”

  Delta instantly stood up, but Booker strode forward, knocked her back onto her seat and held her down with viselike fingers. There was a discussion about what to tie her up with. Harry rummaged around and found, of all things, a jump rope from a box of toys. Delta stared at the rope and remembered playing with Amanda when they were young. Amanda’s initials were stamped in pink onto the ends of the r
ope’s handles. Delta had begged her parents to do the same for her. It hadn’t happened.

  Harry handed the rope to Booker, who strapped Delta in. She exclaimed when he pulled it tight and, satisfied, knotted it in the back. Ellie was lying on the floor a few feet away, and Delta could just make out her breathing.

  “Gale should be here,” Clarice snarked at the two men.

  “He shouldn’t a’ done what he did. Then he woulda been here,” Harry said, somewhat resentfully.

  “He’s the brains of your family. You all know it.”

  “He’s the one who gets paid,” Booker said suggestively, his eyes roaming over her body.

  “He knew you needed him tonight, but he went and made her strip anyway.” Harry jerked his head in Ellie’s direction.

  “It’s good she dies. She would sue him, otherwise,” said Booker.

  “If he got himself arrested on purpose . . . ,” Clarice shook her head, her mouth tight.

  “We’re here for ya, Dee,” Harry said.

  Dee?

  “Get the gasoline,” she ordered.

  What? Delta jerked her head around.

  “Douse the grounds around the house. We’ll make it a hellfire.”

  Harry and Booker both left the garage.

  “What are you doing?” Delta demanded in a squeaking voice.

  “Amanda was your enemy. And she didn’t like Ellie much either, come to that, so it’s okay that she’s here. Wasn’t in my plan, but Ellie’s become a bigger and bigger problem as well. Not a Five First, but might as well have been.” She lowered the gun now that Delta was strapped to the chair. “This is how it’ll play: You killed Tanner, and Amanda snapped. Took you out and Ellie, and maybe they’ll even find a link to Zora and Brian’s ‘accident.’ Luckily, Bailey and Penske were put down to murder/suicide, although Chris McCrae and Bob Quintar can’t quite give it up. I heard that they’re still working on it, off the books. I don’t like messing with police, but if they become too big a problem . . .”

  Delta tested her bonds, which were tight, but not as tight as she’d pretended when she’d cried out. She needed to alert McCrae, but her phone was in her purse, and her purse was on the ground beside her car, dropped when she’d been seized. And Dee would never let her make the call anyway before she pulled the trigger.

  She cocked her head, smiling a little sadly at Delta. “And then there’s Carmen.”

  Delta shuddered at her tone and thought of the note from Amanda. Not me & T at bbq. She suddenly got why she’d left it.

  “Amanda realized it was you Carmen saw with Tanner,” Delta said on an intake of breath.

  “Everyone else thought I was Amanda. The blond hair. But not Carmen. She saw me with him in a . . . compromising position. The preacher’s daughter? I knew she was going to tell. It was pure chance that I had my moment, and I took it.”

  “You killed her. You never tried to help her!”

  “Bailey wanted to save her, but she got swept away. I reached a hand for Carmen, but then I held her down. I had to.”

  She said it so matter-of-factly Delta’s insides chilled.

  Delta had a distant memory of sitting in Clarice Billings’s office talking about her career after high school . . . and how she planned on getting married to Tanner Stahd.

  She heard the clomp of approaching footsteps. The Crassleys returning.

  Delta worked her bonds as best she could, but though they were looser than Booker had undoubtedly meant them to be, they held her fast.

  The men were arguing. Pissed-off and angry. At each other and at Gale.

  “He shoulda been here. You’re a piece of shit.” That sounded like Harry.

  “Fuck you, man.” Booker came in and slammed down several large cans of gasoline. He said to Dee, “The house’ll blow like a volcano!”

  “I gotta do everything!” Harry shouted at him from outside Delta’s vision. “If Gale was here—”

  “Shut up, asshole.”

  Clonk. Harry apparently dropped his load of gasoline cans onto the tarmac. There was a scrambling noise, and Booker yelled, “No!”

  BANG.

  Booker grabbed his chest, staggered, and went down.

  “You stupid shits!” Clarice shrieked, running outside, her pistol back in hand.

  Delta frantically worked her bonds. Ellie stirred, rolling an eye at Delta. “We gotta get outta here,” she whispered, and Delta realized she’d been playing possum.

  “Booker!” Harry called in distress, as if he hadn’t just shot him.

  Ellie tried to get up, groaned softly, hung her head for a moment.

  “Help,” Delta said softly.

  Ellie edged her way closer. Booker was groaning, Harry was crying, and Clarice was shouting.

  Ellie’s fingers found the knot.

  “Can you get it?” Delta asked.

  “Almost.”

  BANG. BANG.

  Delta jerked and gasped. That sounded like the same gun Harry had fired.

  A moment later, Ellie collapsed on the floor in much the same position as before as Clarice appeared in the garage doorway. She was carrying a much larger gun than the pistol. Booker was still moaning and writhing on the ground, but there was no sound from Harry.

  “They killed each other,” she said, trying out the idea to see how it sounded. “They were helping Amanda kill the people she hated.”

  Then she picked up one of the cans and starting pouring gasoline.

  Delta feverishly worked at the knot Ellie had loosened.

  As if suddenly aware, Clarice looked up from pouring out a second can. She came over to Ellie and Delta, holding the half-empty can. Delta regarded her warily as she nudged Ellie with a toe.

  In the next second, she smashed the can down on Ellie’s head.

  * * *

  “Where are we going?” Quin demanded into the phone.

  “The Forsythe house. I don’t believe Delta is meeting Amanda at her office. I think they’re there. I’m on my way.” McCrae had driven to the Portland outskirts talking to Woody, but had turned around directly afterward. Quin had sent officers to Brad Sumpter’s house, and Brad had apparently admitted that he was the guy who’d been sent to spy on Bailey and Penske, that he’d made sure Penske was doctoring Bailey’s drink, and that the purpose of drugging Bailey was to get the notebook. But then Penske had been a loose end, apparently, and Gale killed him. Brad swore no one was supposed to get hurt—no one!—and he’d been sick at heart and horrified ever since. He also swore he’d never participated in any further Crassley scheme and had filched the notebook from where Gale Crassley had hidden it to give to Delta or Amanda. He’d left it on Amanda’s front porch.

  “I’ll meet you there,” Quin growled.

  “Get Portland PD to check on Amanda’s office in case I’m wrong. Layton, Keyes, and Brennan.” They already had a team heading to Clarice Billings’s home.

  Quin grunted an “Okay” and clicked off.

  McCrae hit the accelerator but not the siren. Maybe he was overreacting, but he didn’t think so. Neither Ellie nor Delta was answering. Something was wrong.

  * * *

  Clarice dragged Booker and Harry by their heels into the garage and left them by Zora’s Mercedes. Booker was no longer making any noise. She then returned to pouring the gasoline. The fumes were filling both garages, choking Delta.

  Ellie’s head was bleeding profusely. She was out cold.

  “Gotta bring that other car in,” Clarice was muttering. “Gotta bring it in.”

  When four cans of gasoline were spread all over, Clarice opened the garage door in front of Delta, who gulped in air by the lungful. Clarice then looked at the golf cart. From where she sat, Delta was in line with it and could see the key was in place as Clarice stepped over Ellie, climbed onto the cart, turned the switch. The electric vehicle came to life, and Clarice put it in gear and ran over Ellie’s prone body.

  The plug for the vehicle was yanked from the wall. Something sparked.

/>   Whoosh! The wall behind Delta erupted in flames. She felt the heat on her back and yanked with all her might. One hand came free, and she frantically sought to untie herself.

  She and Ellie were in a ring of fire. Outside, Clarice stopped the golf cart and looked back, her mouth an O of surprise.

  Then she saw Delta was free.

  She ran back inside as Delta was trying to grasp Ellie’s arm.

  Clarice grabbed Delta’s hair. Delta elbowed her with all her might, but the older woman hung on, screaming.

  “You bitch! All you bitches! Fucking bitches!”

  Clarice slapped Delta hard with her free hand, making her ears ring. Infuriated, Delta head-butted Clarice, which finally got her to release her hair. Clarice jumped at her, and they tumbled to the ground. Heat and roaring flames and this rabid witch were all around! Delta hit her as hard as she could, and Clarice howled, finally released her arm, then staggered to her feet.

  “I’ll kill you!” she screamed, but Delta too was getting a knee under herself, attempting to rise.

  And then there was someone else there, grabbing Clarice from behind, pinning her arms back like Harry had pinned Delta’s, dragging her from the fire while she struggled like a madwoman. Quin. Gripped on hard. His face set and dangerous.

  And McCrae. In front of Delta, helping her up, holding her.

  “Ellie,” she cried.

  “Get out!” He pushed her to the open doorway. Flames surrounded it, spitting and crackling, catching fire to the structure, racing along the garage doorjambs. Delta hesitated, then saw McCrae picking up Ellie.

  She ran through the doorway as something from above crashed down hard behind her.

  “McCrae!” she screamed, as he came through the smoke with Ellie in his arms.

  Only later did she realize that a piece of jagged wood from the debris falling from the ceiling had speared his shoulder.

  Clarice was sobbing, choking, and pleading with Quin to understand that she was an innocent victim in a grand scheme, even while she struggled for freedom. The chief was unmoved.

  An ambulance screamed to a halt outside the conflagration of the garage. “Ellie,” Delta moaned as the attendants jumped out. They quickly brought out the gurney and loaded Ellie atop it. That’s when one of the EMTs noticed McCrae’s shoulder just as a police car swung into the drive, lights flashing. Officer Corolla had been called to pick up Clarice, whose screaming intensified, only switching from Quin to Corolla as she was muscled into the police vehicle and locked into the back seat.