by Sara Rosett
I moved into the hallway, which was cluttered with a full laundry basket, a snowboard propped in a corner, and a collapsed umbrella. The rest of the layout of this cottage was also different than mine. The hallway in my cottage ran directly from the kitchen to the front room with only the stairs on one side, but in this cottage two doors opened off the wall opposite the stairs. The first was a bathroom, the door partially open so that I could see a tiny shower and sink.
The quiet house worried me. “Slink,” I called again, louder as I moved by the bath.
No jingle of tags or padding of paws on the hardwood. I stopped abruptly as what I’d seen in the bathroom registered. I backtracked a step and pushed the door open wider. A pink and white bathrobe hung from a hook by the shower, and, as I looked closer, I saw a round brush, a blow dryer, and hair clips scattered along the storage shelf next to the sink as well as a pink toothbrush in the holder.
What was going on? That was a decidedly feminine robe and the hair accessories…the items added up to a woman in Alex’s house, but that couldn’t be right. Alex was single…wasn’t he? Why would he be flirting with me and asking me out to dinner and kissing me, if there was a pink bathrobe hanging in his bathroom? But there had been that hair scrunchy in his car, too. And he had almost told me something after we kissed, but he’d caught himself and said that it wasn’t the right time.
I crossed my arms. So he was either married or had someone who was comfortable enough in Ivy Cottage to leave her bathrobe and hair styling stuff strewn around the bathroom. But how could that be? Nether Woodsmoor was tiny. If he was married or living with someone, people would know. Someone would have said something. And how could I not have seen her coming and going from the cottage? We lived on the same street.
I spun away from the bathroom. Alex’s love life didn’t matter right now. I needed to take care of Slink and get to the church hall. “Slink,” I called again as I searched a narrow table that stood near the stairs covered with junk mail, a leash, and framed snapshots. Sticky notes dotted the table and spotted the wall. I found the key ring under a tilting stack of envelopes and catalogues.
I shook the keys and called for Slink again over the jingling sound, but the house was silent. Seriously worried, I moved to the middle of the hall, debating for a second if I should explore the house or just get out of there. Alex had told me that between her bursts of energy, Slink spent a lot of time sleeping, but what dog didn’t come running when you jangled a set of car keys and called its name?
Getting out seemed to be the best thing to do. Something was wrong—and it had nothing to do with the pink bathrobe and other signs of female habitation. I strode quickly for the front door, the car keys gripped in my hand, but a man stepped out of the front room and blocked my path.
“Mr. Lyons, what are you—”
I jerked to a stop as I saw the gun he held trained on me. My heartbeat kicked up again as I backed up a step. I would have gone farther, but he raised his eyebrows and held up his free hand, palm out like a cop stopping traffic.
I didn’t move an inch more, but my mind—along with my heart rate—raced along. Hector Lyons in Alex’s house? Pointing a gun at me? Pink bathrobes and no Slink? What was going on?
“No use continuing my little charade, is there?” He’d changed out of the biking gear and now had on a black t-shirt, dark pants, and sturdy rubber-soled black shoes. He removed his glasses, slipped them into his pants pocket and brushed his long bangs to the side, revealing a protruding brow. “You know who I am, don’t you?”
Without the glasses and the hair in the way, I could see it now. He’d lost weight—lots of weight. Probably fifty pounds or more. His face was slimmer, his cheeks more hollow than in the photos I’d seen of Harry Lyster. It was amazing how much weight loss changed a person’s appearance. His hair was different, too. Lighter, a golden color instead of dark brown, and threaded with gray. He had altered something else, too. Something that was different from even the last time I’d seen him at the pub. In my on-edge, hyper-aware state it only took me a second to figure it out: he’d shaved off his mustache and beard.
I figured it wouldn’t do any good to play dumb, even if I’d only figured it out seconds earlier. He thought that I knew who he was. He’d been in the pub when I was talking to Louise and either overheard us talking or seen what I was searching for on my computer. “Yes, you’re Harry Lyster.” My voice came out quivery. I sucked in a deep breath, trying to counter my pounding heart and shallow breaths.
“You should be proud of yourself. In three years, you’re only the second person to figure it out.”
He’s talking about Amy—no Lillian. Lillian was her real name, I thought, a memory of the fire licking out of Rafe’s cottage window and up to the roof popping into my mind. My pulse went into the stratospheric range. Harry was the one who’d killed Lillian and put her in Rafe’s cottage, not Felix. How stupid I’d been to jump to the conclusion that the murderer was Felix based on one physical characteristic. Look at how much Harry had managed to change his appearance, camouflaging the things that were hard to change, like his brow bone, but using other things like weight loss, a beard, a mustache, glasses, and a new hairstyle—even a new hair color—to look like a different person.
“And you didn’t know me before. Lilly worked for me. She had an advantage over you, so it’s quite impressive that you managed to figure it out on your own.”
“Alex knows that I’m here,” I said quickly. If this man had killed once to keep his secret, I didn’t think he’d have any qualms about doing it again.
He gave me a pitying look. “No, that was me.”
“I have texts on my phone from Alex. I’ll show you.” I slowly lifted my hand toward my tote bag.
Harry made a little tsking sound. “So gullible,” he said on a sigh. “It’s incredible how easy it is to fool people these days. Everyone trusts their technology, their phones and computers, but it wasn’t a text from Alex. It was from me. I cloned his phone.”
“You cloned his phone?” I said slowly. Unlike Rafe, who had looked on the verge of doing something crazy, Harry looked completely calm and in control of himself, but maybe he wasn’t all there, mentally. “How would you do that?” I asked, half expecting the answer to be something woo-woo about positive energy flow or magnetic fields.
“Cell phone signal booster. They’re quite common now, and so simple to hack. Once I had his phone details, I could listen in on his calls, monitor his texts, even send texts that looked like they came from his phone.”
I revised my assessment. He was perfectly lucid. “I see. Sounds like you know what you’re talking about.”
I scanned the cottage, trying to think what I could do. The front door was directly behind him, so I wasn’t going that way. If I sprinted for the back door, he’d have a clear shot at me since the hall ran straight and true down the short distance to the kitchen. Going upstairs wouldn’t help. I’d only be trapped up there. The bathroom door was slightly behind me and to my right. Could I make it in there, slam the door, and climb out the window? I remembered light coming in from the shower, but how big had the window been? I’d been so focused on the pink robe that I hadn’t noticed the size of the window. And would the door hold? Could he fire the gun through the lock to get inside? Sleek and squared off, the gun wasn’t much bigger than his hand, but it looked sturdy and lethal.
“Quite handy,” he continued. “I’ve cloned most of my neighbor’s cell phones and a few phones that belong to strategic citizens. So important to know what Constable Albertson is relaying to his superiors. Got to love technology.”
I felt a sinking sensation in my gut. No one knew I was here, and I had no hope of bluffing my way out. If Harry did have access to Constable Albertson’s phone, he’d know exactly what I’d told the police.
“Oh, don’t look like that. I’m not going to hurt you. You’re my ticket out of here.”
Chapter 17
“REALLY?” I ASKED, AND I’M af
raid that despite my fear the word came out a tad sarcastic. While I believed what he said about technology, I wasn’t about to trust anything else he said.
“Oh, yes. It’s true. I need you.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and checked it. “It’s playing out just as I thought it would.”
He turned the screen toward me, and I saw it was divided into four sections. Black and white images moved on two of the sections. In one, a four-door sedan moved slowly up a long, tree-shaded drive. In another, a flicker of movement showed two men in police uniforms drop over a stone wall and crouch down. Staying in their hunched position, the men moved out of camera range.
“My house,” he explained. He turned the screen back toward him and shook his head. “They’ve decided to go in quietly, as I thought they would. No sirens. They don’t want to spook me, but I’m already several steps ahead of them.” He pointed the phone to a brown leather holdall bag resting beside the front door.
“Once I knew they were coming, I cleared out. I always have a bag ready, but I couldn’t go in my car, so I came down here to pick up Alex’s car because the police are setting up roadblocks on the two roads out of Nether Woodsmoor. I knew from Alex’s texts that he didn’t have his car with him today—I monitor things like that. So important to know what your options are at all times, don’t you think? An exit strategy is everything, you know. Anyway, I knew I’d be able to find his keys, or worst case, hot wire his car myself. It’s an older car so it shouldn’t be hard to do, but then I had the inspiration of bringing you in.”
He slipped his phone into his pocket, then reached for Alex’s light gray windbreaker and worked one arm into the sleeve, never letting the gun waver from me. He switched the gun to the other hand, and pulled the jacket on his other arm. “Looks like rain, don’t you think?” He settled the jacket on his shoulders, then picked up a worn denim baseball cap that hung on another peg, working it onto his head.
“With you in the driver’s seat, we’ll zip through the road block—” he paused, put his hand on his chest. “Flattering really, that they’ve gone to the trouble, but in the end it won’t matter. It’s known around the village that you sometimes drive Alex’s car. You even mentioned it to the police at the church hall the other day. I was there and heard you along with several other officers. In Alex’s jacket and hat, I’ll pass a cursory look, I think.” He shot a quick look at himself in the mirror hanging above the narrow table in the hall and gave the brim of the hat a quick adjustment.
He took a step back and grabbed the handle of the front door. “Shall we?”
I didn’t move.
He raised his eyebrows. “You don’t like my plan?”
“No, considering that I can’t possibly be useful to you,” I swallowed, but managed to continue, “after you’re out of Nether Woodsmoor. I’m sure that if you have a bag packed and monitor your property, then you most likely have an escape plan that will take you out of the U.K., and I doubt that plan involves a traveling companion. No, I’d be something you had to discard, excess baggage as it were,” I said, matching his light tone.
“Kate.” He dipped his chin and gave me a hurt look. “I’m not going to harm you. I don’t need anything else on my plate. You drive me to Upper Benning, drop me at the train station, and you’re done.”
“You’ll let me drive away? Just like that?”
“Yes, exactly like that. Once I’m on the train, I’m home free. I have a new identity that can’t be tracked. I only need you to get out of Nether Woodsmoor. I’m not some sort of monster.”
I licked my lips. “Then where’s Slink?”
“Slink? Oh, the dog.” He motioned to the front room. “On her cushion, sleeping off a rather large lunch.”
I took a step forward, then jerked to a stop, remembering the gun.
He motioned me into the room with the gun. “Go ahead, take a look.”
I hesitated for a second, then went across the room to the circular dog cushion placed next to the couch. Slink was indeed out, her massive chest rising and falling with each breath, her long limbs loose and relaxed as they draped over the edge of the squashy cushion.
“I had a very nice steak in my refrigerator. She quite enjoyed it. I couldn’t have her snapping and growling at me when I came in the back door unexpectedly. Handy to know where Alex hid his spare key as well. I didn’t even have to force the lock.”
I ran my hand over her soft short fur, and Slink stirred, opened her eyes and tilted her head toward me. I rubbed her head and one silky ear. She dropped her head back to the cushion with a sigh. I wasn’t sure I believed that only a full stomach had made her so lethargic. I bet that he put something else—some sort of sedative or medicine in with the food—but she did seem to be okay, just sleepy. I could feel her steady heartbeat as I petted her, and her breathing was even.
“She warmed up to me quickly, once she smelled the steak.” Harry said. “Now, that you can see that I’m not some sort of brute, can we leave?”
I ran my hand along Slink’s side once more, trying to scan the room for anything that I could use to get myself out of this awful situation, but the fireplace tools were too far away to lunge for, and the only other things within reach was a remote control and a glossy gossip magazine that had been left on the couch cushions.
He tapped his watch. “Time is ticking.” His affable tone had faded. Now his words were sharp. “You can be useful to me, or you can be an obstacle. Much better to be useful.”
I stood and walked toward the front door, the keys gripped in my hand.
He glanced down at my hand as he picked up his bag. “Don’t think you can attack me and get away. I’ve had nothing but time on my hands for three years and done extensive self-defense training. You strike me—or try to strike me—and you’ll regret it.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Before he’d slipped on Alex’s jacket, the tight t-shirt he wore revealed a toned and in-shape physique. He was a careful and thorough man. I didn’t doubt that he had prepared himself in every way he could to avoid capture.
I didn’t think for a minute that he would let me go, but I had zero self-defense skills. I wasn’t about to take him on directly. No, my best bet was to get away from him outside the cottage. He’d be more reluctant to fire the gun outside in full view of several houses. “I’ll get you to that train station so you can get on your way.”
“Brilliant. Lead on.” He picked up the holdall and tucked the gun into my ribcage as I opened the door. If there had been anyone on the street who knew me, they would have immediately noticed us and probably thought it was odd how we moved down the path in lockstep, our bodies only inches from each other, his body bumping up against me. I tried to create some distance between us, but he dug the gun deeper into my side. “Don’t move away. Stay close.” His voice was tense now. We moved around the gate in a weird shuffle. “Open the trunk,” he commanded.
I popped it open, and he cursed under his breath. The trunk was stuffed with a mishmash of items. Tools, a soccer ball, a wadded blanket, sheaves of paper, and a raincoat were on the top layer and filled the trunk to the brim. There was no way he was fitting his holdall in there, and there was no backseat to toss it in either.
“Never mind. Close it.”
I pushed down the lid, and he directed me around to the passenger side. I could feel his choppy breath pushing against my hair as he glanced up and down the empty street. “Open the door, and get in.”
I followed instructions, relieved to get away from the gun and his clinging body. A flash of light hit the rearview mirror, and I caught a glimpse of a car turning onto the street. I thought he’d slam the door and go around to the other side. This could be my chance to run. I’d wait until he was on the far side of the car. He wouldn’t shoot—not with another car on the road—that would draw attention to him, and attention was the last thing he wanted.
But he didn’t go around, he stayed beside me. Now the gun was in the pocket of his jacket, but I could tell from
the way the fabric strained that it was still aimed at me. “Go on. Crawl over to the driver’s side.”
It wasn’t easy to do in the tiny space, but I scrambled over the stick shift and settled into the driver’s seat, my gaze immediately went to the mirrors. I could still get out—go out the driver’s door and keep the MG between us until the car came to this end of the street. I hesitated, checking the mirrors for the car that had been on the road, but it had parked in front of the first cottage on the street, and I could just make out a figure as it moved up the steps to the front door and disappeared inside. The street was now completely empty.
I dropped my hand from the door handle as Harry slid inside. “Very good. Now, start the car and make a U-turn, nice and smooth.”
I adjusted the seat forward so that I could reach the pedals, still scanning the mirrors, hoping someone would emerge from one of the cottages. Didn’t someone need to take their dog for a walk or run to the store?
“What are you waiting on?” He was obviously glad to be inside the car. He didn’t sound quite as edgy as he had on the street. “Let’s go.”
“Right.”
I put the car in gear, and with only a few shudders as I worked the gas and clutch, I made it through the U-turn and cruised to the end of the lane.
“Signal,” he commanded as I stopped.
I dutifully flicked on the blinker and made the turn, driving down the short street and then signaling again as I worked my way into the village. “Go to the high street, then follow the main road over the bridge and out of town after the roundabout. Don’t speed. Everything nice and legal.” He settled back, relaxing as we cruised smoothly through the streets, hitting the few traffic lights green. I concentrated on staying on the correct side of the road, my hands clenched on the wheel.
