Love You to Death

by Bebe Faas Rice

  He could hear laughing. He followed the sound down a hall and into the games room with its antique pool table and overhead Tiffany-style light.

  On the far side of the room, French doors opened out upon a partially enclosed deck.

  They were out there. He could hear high-pitched giggles and the splashing of water.

  They were in the hot tub, all four of them, and their backs were toward him.

  He stood in the shadows for a moment, deciding what to do next.

  The water in the hot tub was warm and bubbling. Steam rose from it, but it was chilly on the deck itself.

  He glanced over and saw a portable electric heater, glowing red. Nearby, a pile of clothing was scattered about.

  His lip curled with disgust.

  What trash, he thought.

  He looked again at the electric heater on its long, coiled cord.

  He walked quietly over to the heater, picked it up, and called to the group in the tub, “Hey! Remember me?”

  He laughed aloud when he saw them turn, startled. Saw the expression of fear that came over each stupid, gawking face.

  It was Nick, though, who was the first to realize what Quinn was about to do.

  “No, Quinn! Put that heater down. Please, man!”

  Then Tara started to whimper. She tried to get to her feet but slipped and fell back into the water.

  “This one’s for Julie,” he called out, and hurled the heater into the hot tub.

  There was a sizzling, popping noise. Then sparks and a blue flame.

  The four of them began to scream and throw themselves around in the water.

  Dancing, he thought, watching them with a satisfied smile. They look like they’re dancing. Hey, they’re good. Really good.

  Finally they fell back, unmoving, into the water.

  He jerked the heater cord unplugged, ignoring the shock that ran through his arm. Then he circled the tub, pushing their heads under the water for good measure. Just to make sure, he told himself. Better safe than sorry. Anything worth doing is worth doing well.

  He took one long, last look from the doorway as he left.

  It was quiet now on the deck, except for the gurgling of the hot tub. It continued to swirl festive little bubbles over the dead limbs of the four bodies bobbing facedown in the moving water.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  TEEN HOT-TUB SLAYINGS

  Prime Suspect Still at Large

  BRAXTON FALLS—The body of their daughter, Tara, and three of her friends, identified as Nick Wells, Colin King, and Shelley Molino, all of this city, were discovered by Mr. and Mrs. Prescott Braxton late Thursday afternoon, upon their return from an out-of-town trip.

  The victims, all in their teens, had been electrocuted in the family hot tub.

  Although the possibility of accident has not been ruled out, it is, according to local police, highly unlikely.

  “A large electric heater was present in the tub and apparently caused the deaths,” stated Sheriff James “Dusty” Rhoades, who was first on the scene following a call from the distraught parents. “There is every indication of foul play.”

  Being sought in connection with the deaths is Quinn McNeal, also of this city and a schoolmate of the victims at Jefferson High School.

  According to witnesses, McNeal directed forceful death threats toward the victims, following an incident in which Tara Braxton accidentally ran over and killed McNeal’s cat.

  “It was terrible, the way he looked at her and said, ‘I ought to kill you for what you did,’ and, ‘I’ll see you dead for this,’” stated eyewitness Violet Purdy, who was at the scene at the time. “He had such an awful expression on his face, too, when he said it.”

  McNeal’s fingerprints were found on the Braxtons’ front door and on the French doors that lead to the deck and hot tub.

  McNeal was recently released from the Juvenile Correctional Facility at Mayfield, Virginia, where he spent four years’ confinement in connection with the manslaughter death of a young girl.

  McNeal was also questioned recently concerning the death of his father, R. J. McNeal of Middledale, Virginia. He was, however, released when the death was judged to be the result of an accident. The elder McNeal had fallen down the stairs of his home. Death was caused by a head injury and was instantaneous.

  Although a massive manhunt has been launched, McNeal cannot be located. His car, a white 1987 Plymouth coupe, is missing. When police searched his apartment, they found the dead body of a large cat lying on the suspect’s bed. The cat has been subsequently identified as the one accidentally run over by the car driven by Tara Braxton.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Ten days had passed since Braxton Falls was rocked by what was now being called “The Hot-Tub Massacre.”

  It was Halloween. Darkness had fallen. The small children of Braxton Falls, carefully chaperoned by watchful parents, had finished their trick-or-treating during daylight hours and were now home, happily gorging themselves on candy.

  It had been a rough ten days.

  Julie thought of herself as dead. Her past life, her old friends, the way she’d loved Quinn, were things that should be carved on her tombstone.

  The only problem was that, at least technically, she was still alive.

  Every morning she’d awaken with a feeling of despair, knowing she had yet another sad, purposeless day to drag herself through.

  On Thursday, the morning after Grady’s death, Julie had tried to phone Quinn. She wanted to talk to him before she told her parents what had happened. Before they found out about his past.

  There was a question she needed to ask him that couldn’t wait. Only one question—the only one that mattered. Had he really loved her? All those times when he’d held her in his arms and told her so, had he meant it, or was he thinking only of Alison?

  Julie had felt like a fool as she dialed his number, remembering the way she’d opened herself up to him. The times she’d told him of her intense feelings for him.

  She was almost glad when the phone rang and rang and no one answered. She’d looked for him at school, but he wasn’t there. And then, that night, she’d heard about the murders. Quinn, a prime suspect, had disappeared.

  It was on the six o’clock news. The Braxtons had called the police immediately upon discovery of the bodies.

  Julie spent that night and all the next day under sedation. Her mother had called in the family doctor, who’d prescribed something that made her feel sleepy and woozy.

  She roused herself from bed only once, to talk to the police, but wasn’t able to tell them anything they didn’t already know.

  Then Julie went back to bed and let Mollie give her a pill that allowed her to float off to a land where everything was pink and beautiful.

  The only trouble with pills like that, she soon discovered, is that they make waking up even harder.

  She would open her eyes and remember Quinn, and then her heart would start pounding again.

  Her mother would appear, fleetingly, at her bedside every now and then, talking about how Julie could have been killed by this maniac. How he’d fooled them all with his perfect manners while, underneath it all, he was a coldblooded killer!

  In a small town like Braxton Falls, any unusual occurrence was a big event. The brutal deaths of four teenagers nearly turned the town upside down.

  Grief counseling was available at the high school. Funeral services, attended by hundreds, were held for the four teenagers.

  For the first few days people walked in fear, locking doors and not going out at night in case the murderer might be lurking about, ready to kill them, too.

  And then the news broke, to everyone’s relief, that Quinn had been sighted in southern Virginia, in the mountains just across the border from North Carolina. The net, the police assured everyone, was closing on him. They’d have him soon.

  Julie hoped Quinn would escape capture. She knew she’d never see him again, that he wouldn’t dare show his face in Braxt
on Falls for fear of being caught. What he had done was loathsome and unforgivable, but still she hoped he wouldn’t be caught.

  I can’t help it, she thought. I can’t bear the thought of Quinn in prison again. It would be for life this time. He’d been locked up for four years, and she didn’t know how he’d been able to survive even that.

  Why, Quinn? she asked herself over and over again. Why did it have to be this way?

  That Halloween night the neighborhood was quiet, except for the older kids.

  Julie was well enough now, the doctor had said, to return to school. She’d been dreading it, dreading the curious stares and whispers. But on Halloween, her first day back, it wasn’t like that at all. The other kids were sympathetic and helpful. As Brad said, “You have more friends than you think you do, Julie. At least, they’re willing to be your friends if you’ll let them.”

  Because of the deaths, the annual Halloween dance at the high school was canceled, and since many of the students had already had costumes made, groups of them were going from door to door, overgrown trick-or-treaters.

  Julie was alone in the house, to her relief. Much as she loved them, she needed a break from her family. Both her parents and Mollie kept telling her she ought to “talk it out,” get it out of her system. But Julie wasn’t ready for that yet. She hadn’t even been able to cry about it. Everyone always said that tears were healing. Well, she wasn’t healed yet. Maybe she never would be.

  A couple of kids from school, boys, came to the door, and Julie tried to talk and even laugh a little with them. She knew she at least had to act normal, even if she didn’t feel that way.

  Her parents were next door at a party, and Mollie was out with her friend, Tommy. Julie hoped none of them felt they had to rush home just to be with her. They cared about her, and she was grateful for that, but right now she simply wanted to be alone, not with others hovering over her, wanting progress reports on the hoped-for lessening of her grief.

  She went to the window and looked out at the dark street, playing with the cord that pulled the drapes.

  Across the street someone in a skeleton costume was loitering under a tree. She could see him by the light of the streetlamp. She wondered idly which of her schoolmates he was and who he was waiting for. She hoped he wouldn’t come over here. Maybe she should turn off the porch and foyer lights. He might think no one was home and pass her house by.

  Before she could, though, the phone rang.

  It was Brad. Sweet, thoughtful Brad.

  He’d stuck close to her at school, meeting her between classes and taking her off campus to lunch.

  “Why are you doing this, Brad?” she’d asked him.

  “Don’t you know?” he replied.

  “Look, I appreciate what you’re doing, but I’m not ready for someone else right now,” she’d said apologetically. “I might never feel that way about someone again. I’m sorry, Brad, but it’s only fair to tell you that, so you won’t waste any more time on me.”

  And then Brad had looked at her, his blue eyes bright and hard. “No time spent with you, Julie, is wasted. You’ll get through this someday, and when you do, I’ll be ready and waiting. And even if you don’t, I’ll still be here for you.”

  That had made her cry, and he’d patted her awkwardly.

  Funny how she could cry over little things, like a sudden, unexpected kindness, when she had no tears for the thing that gnawed away at her night and day.

  “Do you have a lot of trick-or-treaters?” Brad was asking now.

  “We did earlier. Now I’m getting the high-school kids. I guess they want to get some wear out of the costumes they made for the dance.”

  “Maybe canceling the dance was a bad idea,” Brad said. “This whole town needs to get back to normal as soon as possible. But then, it’s only been ten days.”

  Ten days, ten years. Some of us will never get back to normal, Julie thought hopelessly.

  “I’d love to come over, if you’d let me,” Brad said.

  “Thanks, but no. I’m kind of tired. I was just about to go to bed when you called.”

  There was a slight hesitation on the other end of the line.

  “You’re sure you’re okay?” Brad asked.

  “I’m fine. Really. But thanks.”

  The doorbell rang. Then again, impatiently.

  “Uh-oh, the door. Gotta go now, Brad.

  “Okay. Sleep tight.”

  If I only could.

  “Who’s there?” Julie asked before opening the door.

  “Death,” said a muffled voice.

  What a bore these Halloweeners are, she thought with a resigned sigh.

  She opened the door and the figure in the skeleton costume pushed her aside, came into the foyer, and closed the door behind him.

  He removed his mask.

  Julie gasped and had to put her hand against the wall to support herself. Her knees buckled, and her heart was beating at twice its normal rate.

  “Quinn!” she whispered. “But they said you were miles away . . . down by the state border!”

  He smiled. The thin white scar that bisected his upper lip gave him the fierce, dashing look of a pirate when he smiled like that. How she’d loved kissing that scar, that pirate’s smile . . . once.

  “Yeah, I fooled them, the jerks. They must have seen someone who looked like me. No, I’ve been living out in the woods, waiting for things to cool down so I could come back for you.”

  “Come . . . come back for me?” Julie echoed faintly.

  “Of course. Didn’t you think I would?” He tried to pull her to him, but she struggled free.

  “No, wait a minute, Quinn. Tara and the rest. Did you . . . are you really the . . .”

  Her lips were stiff. She could barely move them. She couldn’t say the word “murderer.”

  “Yes,” he said calmly. “I killed them. I had to. I did it for you. For us.”

  “For us? How can you say that? You didn’t do it for me, or for us. How could you do something like that? It’s so awful. I’ve been sick for days, thinking about it and hoping—praying—that something would happen and we would find out it hadn’t been you, after all.”

  Quinn seemed surprised. “But they had to die. They were evil and they had to die. They were as bad as my father.”

  “Your father? What’s he got to do with it?”

  “You mean you haven’t guessed? You really didn’t know I killed my father?”

  Julie pressed her knuckles to her lips to keep them from trembling. Her voice was faint. “No. I didn’t know that, Quinn.”

  “The police were right all along,” Quinn said. “I really did push him down the stairs. I should have done it years ago. It was so easy. And it left me free to come to you, Alison. To find you again.”

  Alison?

  Julie looked deep into Quinn’s eyes. They were glazed, unfocused. Mad looking.

  Oh God, Julie thought. Where are my parents? No! I don’t want them to come in right now. He won’t hurt me, I’m sure of that, but he might try to do something to them. Maybe he has a knife. Or . . .

  Or a crowbar! Norm and Frankie were killed with a crowbar.

  Julie tried to keep her voice level and calm. “And Norm and Frankie. Did you kill them, too, Quinn?”

  “Of course, Alison. I wanted to take care of you. They tried to hurt you, so I fixed them. They’ll never try to hurt you again. It was my first gift to you—”

  He broke off and frowned.

  “No. That was my second gift to you. Do you remember what my first one was?”

  Julie shook her head, her eyes wide with fear.

  “Karen Slack,” he said proudly.

  “Wh-what?”

  “I killed Karen Slack. I pushed her off the cliff at The Point.”

  “Karen?” Julie’s voice had become high-pitched, almost a shriek. Calm, she told herself. I have to act calm. Keep everything under control.

  “But Karen didn’t do anything to hurt us, Quinn.
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  His eyes narrowed. “She would have, though. She saw my records. The ones that Mr. Reed kept locked up. And she was going to tell everyone about how I’d been in that prison for juveniles.”

  He paused and smiled triumphantly. “So I killed her. She deserved it, Alison.”

  Julie shuddered. Those hands. She almost expected to see blood, the blood of his victims, on them.

  He moved toward her and took her in his arms.

  She felt a terrible repugnance for him now.

  He drew her closer, and she suddenly felt sick to her stomach. The very scent of him, once so exciting, was making her ill. All the attraction she’d felt toward him in the past had turned to repulsion. Nausea.

  Gently, she pulled away from him, swallowing a spasm of nausea as he tried to cling to her.

  “So what are you going to do now?” she asked him softly. “The police are looking for you, you know. You can’t stay here or they’ll find you. You took a real chance coming here to see me.”

  Quinn laughed. He picked up his mask and put it back on.

  Julie could see only his eyes, those wild, mad eyes, glittering behind the mask.

  “I have a plan. The perfect plan.” He took her arm. “I didn’t come here just to see you. Like I said, I came here to get you. I’m taking you with me. We have to be together, don’t we? Always and forever. That’s what you want, too, isn’t it, my darling Alison?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Quinn gripped Julie’s arm with a heavy hand. There was no way she could wrench it from his grasp, and even if she could, she would never be able to outrun him. She was unable to put up any resistance as Quinn propelled her down the walk to a dark-gray sedan parked a few yards away. It was a very average, inconspicuous-looking car, not likely to draw anyone’s attention.

  That’s why he chose it, she thought.

  The street was deserted. Any hope she had of calling for help from passersby vanished.

  He helped her into the car.

  “This isn’t your old one,” she said, as if they were on a date. Normal. She had to act normal. “Where did you get it?”

  “Let’s just say I borrowed it for the occasion,” Quinn replied, laughing. It was a strange laugh. High-pitched. Giggly.