High-Caliber Holiday

by Susan Sleeman

  “I didn’t take you for a gun person,” Morgan said, her anger melting when she realized that with all the bad things happening around her, Lacy might be afraid. “But it’s okay. You don’t need it. The team has upped their vigilance since the fire, and we’re safe here.”

  “Just like you to be so oblivious.” Lacy pointed the gun at Morgan.

  “What?” Morgan automatically shrank back. “Don’t point that at me. It’s not funny.”

  Lacy rolled her eyes. “You really are dense, aren’t you? Fine. I’ll spell it out. It was me. I’m the one who poisoned you. Who started the fire. And I’m going to kill you. Is that plain enough for you?”

  “What? No.” Morgan refused to believe what she was hearing. “You’re my friend.”

  “Hardly.” Lacy snorted. “You don’t know how difficult it was to pretend.”

  Morgan gaped at Lacy. “Why do it, then?”

  “I couldn’t poison you if I couldn’t get close to you.”

  Morgan could do nothing but stare at her friend. Lacy, the woman Morgan had bared her soul to for the last few months, when all that time she’d wanted to kill Morgan. Unbelievable.

  Sad resignation started setting in. Morgan’s already heavy heart overflowed with pain. “I don’t understand.”

  “You never did, did you?” The words were hurled at Morgan. “All those hours in the courtroom. Those of us whose families died, beaten down day after day by your legal maneuverings. People dying each week as you fought to protect your money and play God with our lives.”

  Morgan searched her memories of the courtroom for Lacy. “You weren’t part of the suit. I would recognize your name if you were.”

  “My parents were registered under my stepfather’s last name. But I was there in the back, at the beginning. Until both of my parents got so sick that I had to stay home with them. Care for them. Watch them suffer and die.” Her eyes glazed over for a moment and she waved the gun. “All because of your greed.”

  “I don’t remember seeing you,” Morgan said to buy some time to figure a way out of this.

  “Of course you don’t. You didn’t care enough to look at us.”

  Morgan’s anger returned. “That’s not true. I saw everyone. Their pain. Their grief. I wanted to help.”

  “Oh, please. I’m going to kill you no matter what, so don’t waste your time and insult me further with that PR speak.”

  Morgan didn’t know what to say. She had seen this same attitude on a daily basis, but between Craig and Lacy, it now hit hard. Morgan knew Lacy. Cared for Lacy. And now, she saw the pain the people suffered even more intimately.

  “I’m so sorry for your loss,” Morgan said, though she knew it sounded trite and inadequate.

  Lacy huffed out a sour laugh. “Right. I could see your sympathy in the courtroom.”

  “I wish I could have helped.”

  “No you didn’t, or you would have done something.”

  Lacy was right. Morgan might have seen their pain and wanted to help, but she was too busy worrying about her father and what he might say if they lost the lawsuit to even consider what to do.

  Lacy sat up higher and pulled her shoulders back as if a weight had been lifted from them. “I made it my mission for you to feel our pain. To see what it’s like be sick. To feel terrible every day. It would have continued to get worse over time. Until you died. But your stupid boyfriend got in my way, and I had to change course. Start the fire.”

  “Fire? That was you, too? How did you even know how to break into the condo? Or disable the smoke detectors?”

  She laughed. “The internet has everything you could need and more. Amazing what you can learn to do when you’re motivated.”

  “And now you’re going to shoot me?”

  She simply stared, a stark expression on her face, her chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.

  “It doesn’t have to be this way,” Morgan said in a last ditch effort to save herself. “Even if you kill me, Brady will find you and you’ll spend the rest of your life in jail for murder.”

  “Ha!” Lacy jutted out her chin. “My life is almost over. Thanks to you. To your poison.”

  Morgan’s heart fell. “You have cancer, too?”

  “Yes, and I’m not leaving this world alone. I’m taking you with me.”

  NINETEEN

  Eager to question Morgan’s father, Brady climbed into his truck. It wouldn’t be long. The mill was only five minutes away. Brady settled the keys in the ignition, but let his hand fall. He couldn’t go rushing over to Morgan’s father without telling her what had happened. She deserved to know about it first. He pressed her icon on his phone. The phone rang, and he sat impatiently waiting to hear her voice again.

  Four rings. Five rings. Nothing.

  A trickle of apprehension tickled his back. “Don’t panic. She could simply be sleeping.”

  He punched Archer’s number.

  “Is Morgan okay?” Brady asked the second Archer answered.

  “Last I checked, why?’

  “She’s not answering her phone.”

  “Maybe she’s too busy with Lacy.”

  “Lacy’s there?”

  “Yes. Is that a problem?”

  “No. I just didn’t know she was coming over,” Brady said, but something felt wrong. If she was just chatting with her friend, why wouldn’t she answer her phone? “Can you go upstairs and tell Morgan I need to talk to her?”

  “Sure.” Brady heard Archer’s feet pounding up the iron steps and then a loud knock sounded on the door.

  Brady waited, each second convincing him there was a problem.

  “She’s not answering,” Archer finally said. “Maybe she went somewhere with Lacy.”

  “She wouldn’t do that,” Brady snapped out. “At least, I hope she wouldn’t.”

  “Let me look to see if Lacy’s car is still here.”

  Brady’s pulse started pounding wildly, and he took a few deep breaths to control the anxiety.

  Archer came back on. “Car’s gone.”

  “Then I need you to go into my condo and make sure Morgan’s okay.”

  “I don’t have a key.”

  “Then bust down the door.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive, man, just do it,” Brady ground out.

  “Okay, but I want to go on record as saying you’re off your rocker, and I’m not paying for this door.”

  “Then I’m off my rocker. Just hurry up and get the door open.”

  “Fine. I’m putting down the phone for a minute.”

  Brady listened to loud banging, wood splintering, then Archer called for Morgan. There seemed to be no response to his plea. Brady’s gut cramped hard, and he waited for bad news.

  “She’s not here, man. I’m sorry, I had no idea she’d leave without telling me.”

  “Or wouldn’t answer her phone,” Brady said, his minding running over where she could have gone. “Why wouldn’t she be answering her cell?”

  “Um,” Archer said. “It’s on the table.”

  The news felt like a punch to the gut. “Either she forgot it or was compromised and couldn’t get to it. Or she could simply be confused from everything that’s happened to her.”

  “Or...” Archer’s voice fell off.

  “Or what?”

  “I’ve been thinking about the fire and the poisoning. So far, you’ve been looking for a romantic stalker, right? But neither of these attacks really fit a male stalker’s personality.”

  “How so?”

  “Men are more direct. More violent. If they want to hurt someone, they go after them directly with a knife or a gun. Women are usually the ones who want to distance themselves from the act of murder and to kee
p from personally inflicting physical pain. So they look for less violent ways to kill. Like poison and fire.”

  Brady appreciated Archer’s help, but with Morgan missing, Brady didn’t have time to waste. “Cut to the point, man.”

  “What if the stalking was a set up to throw us off track and you’re looking for a woman?”

  “A woman?” Brady asked. “Who?”

  “I don’t know, but if this isn’t motivated by romance and this person really wants to make Morgan suffer and die, then I suspect we’re actually looking for someone related to the class action trial. Which means we could be looking for a woman.”

  Brady’s panic started growing. “Then I need a list of plaintiffs to see if we recognize a name.”

  “I have a friend at the clerk’s office. She should be able to log in from home and get us what we need.”

  “Call her, and I’ll head over to the mill.” Brady explained the situation with Morgan’s father. “If your friend can’t provide the information, I’ll do whatever it takes to get it from Morgan’s father.”

  * * *

  The wind whipped through trees and blasted snow into Morgan’s face, blinding her almost as much as the darkness of night. She was cold, miserable and wet, but Lacy dragged Morgan by the zip ties circling her wrists. They moved through the growing blanket of snow down the familiar path from the mill to the river. As a child, Morgan had run down this path, playing pirates with her cousin. She’d always taken the captain’s role, bravely fighting and overcoming the pirates to save her crew and ship. Winning her freedom. Just like she needed to do right now. But this was reality, not playacting.

  Morgan could go nowhere in the dark. The only light came from a headlamp Lacy had slipped on at the car. Running away could mean a fall into the icy river.

  Lacy picked up speed, the sharp edges of the zip ties sliced into Morgan’s skin, which was already raw from rough manhandling. Her legs felt like rubber from fear and sheer exhaustion. Her feet were wet and frozen, but she wouldn’t—couldn’t—let this take her down. Still, her steps slowed.

  “Move,” Lacy snapped and jerked hard on a zip tie.

  Morgan slipped from the edge of the path into tall scrub. Knee-high grass tangled around her feet as they settled into the heavy snow. She stumbled. Her wrists broke free from Lacy’s grasp. Morgan fell hard on her shoulder. Stars danced before her eyes. She recovered quickly and rolled out of the beam of light. Snow slid down her neck, coated her face, but she kept maneuvering until she struggled to her feet. She heard the water to her right so she started to run in the opposite direction, the darkness surrounding her.

  Lacy’s light slid over the area, back and forth like a searchlight as it glistened on the snow and grew closer. Morgan heard crunching of snow, the light moving more quickly now. Coming even closer. Morgan glanced back just as Lacy launched herself into the air, slamming into Morgan and bringing her down.

  “You want to die sooner, I guess,” Lacy said with a low growl and pulled a large hunting knife from a sheath on her belt. The bright bream of her headlamp shone in Morgan’s eyes. She squinted and saw Lacy bring the knife overhead.

  Father, please, oh please, don’t let me die.

  Lacy pressed the sharp tip against Morgan’s throat, piercing delicate skin. Pain sliced through Morgan and brought tears to her eyes, but she wouldn’t cry out. She’d do anything not to give Lacy the satisfaction.

  Lacy grinned, her face dark and menacing in the shadow of the light. “I’d rather we reached the right spot on the river, but I can do it here if I have to.”

  “Why here?” Morgan asked trying to buy time.

  “You have to ask?” Lacy’s voice trembled with excitement. “It’s symbolic. The water killed my parents so I’m going to kill you here and dump your body in the water.”

  “If this was your plan all along, why the stalker thing?”

  “First of all, I’m not your stalker.”

  “You’re lying,” Morgan said between her teeth.

  “Why lie? If I’d done it, trust me, I’d be happy to admit it.” Lacy smiled, her lips flat and grim. “I was perfectly content to watch you get sick from the antifreeze. I didn’t need to scare you, too.”

  Morgan didn’t know why Lacy wouldn’t admit to the stalking when she’d gladly admit to attempted murder. “This won’t bring your parents back, Lacy.”

  “No, but as I lie on my deathbed, I can remember it. I know how I’m going to go. I’ve seen it, remember. So in the middle of my pain, when I’m all alone because you killed all of my family, it will give me reason to smile.” She grabbed the zip tie and jerked hard. “C’mon. Let’s get you secured so I can enjoy every minute of this.” She smiled again, her eyes lit by insanity.

  She’d been pushed to the edge. No, over the edge. She was truly going to kill Morgan. Right here. Right now. Unless Morgan found a way to save her own life.

  * * *

  Brady wanted to press the gas pedal to the floor, but a snow-covered road would ensure he’d end up in the ditch. He bit his lip and kept his eyes trained ahead to stay on the road. His GPS said Thorsby Mill was a mile down the road, but every moment without knowing where Morgan was or if she was all right seemed like an eternity.

  His phone rang from the dash holder. He pulled in a breath. Held it and punched Accept.

  “I found it,” Archer said, his voice a mixture of excitement and dread. “A couple died during the trial. Their names are Evangeline and Oliver Fahr. Evangeline is Lacy’s mother. Their claim was filed under her stepfather’s last name.”

  “Lacy? Really, Lacy?” Brady nearly lost his dinner. “And you let her into my condo. Do you think—”

  “She’s taken Morgan somewhere to kill her?” Archer said matter-of-factly when Brady was about to jump out of his skin. “Yeah. That’s exactly what I think.” Archer fell silent, but Brady heard him moving around in the background.

  Brady focused on the dark road ahead as he searched for a way to find Morgan. He came up blank. Nothing. Nada. No way to help the woman he loved.

  Loved, really? Yes, really. And he’d do anything to get her back.

  “Bingo,” Archer shouted. “I know where Morgan is.”

  Brady’s heart soared. “Where? How?”

  “I used Morgan’s cell to locate Lacy’s phone number. It was a long shot, but I asked a buddy at the phone company to ping Lacy’s phone before I called you. The coordinates just came back. Morgan’s at her family’s mill. Specifically, the south side. By the river. I’m texting the coordinates now.”

  Thank You, God!

  “Get backup out here.” Brady hung up and cut off his lights. He swung into the large parking lot, the tires crunching on the fresh snow as his pulse hammered in his head.

  Please don’t let Lacy see me arrive—and please give me the skills to save Morgan. Please.

  Brady jumped from the truck and retrieved his rifle and scope from a locked storage box in truck bed. He pocketed extra ammo and checked his sidearm before shrugging into his ballistic vest. He crept through the scrub as silently as a hunting panther, the snow nothing but an irritant. To become a sniper, he’d had to pass the rigorous stalking portion of the training. The irony of Morgan having a stalker didn’t miss Brady, but the stalking he’d trained intensively on was different. He learned to use the terrain, nature, anything around him to disguise his body and not only sneak up to his stand without being seen, but to get off a shot without giving his location away, too.

  He was good at it. The best in his class. The best on his sniper team.

  Tonight was different. The woman he loved depended on his skills. He had to fight a rush of nerves that put a slight tremble in his hands. Urged him to charge in, maybe making a mistake. He took a deep breath and pushed his emotions to the side, letting his training take over.


  He crested the hill on his belly, slowly lifted his night-vision binoculars and swept the area. A light in the distance near a tree caught his eye. He focused in. Spotted Morgan tied to the thick trunk. He zoomed in on her face. Lacy’s headlamp illuminated Morgan’s cold, stark fear as the snow fell softly over her. Despite the cold, Brady’s palms started to sweat. Not good for holding his rifle still. For getting a good shot at Lacy.

  A knife flashed in the beam of light. Glinting. Sending a warning into the night. Lacy suddenly moved. Started around the tree in long purposeful steps. Her body language was jerky and tense, and her mouth was moving rapidly. She was telling Morgan something. Brady wished he could hear her.

  Didn’t matter, really. She was an immediate threat that needed to be neutralized. But what was the best way? The area was wide open and even with Brady’s marked stalking skills, he couldn’t get close enough to untie Morgan before Lacy struck. He had no choice. He’d have to shoot.

  He looked at Morgan again. He wasn’t worried he would hit her, but seeing Lacy fall to the ground from a kill shot right in front of her would devastate her. And he wasn’t worried about being able to pull the trigger, either. Not with Morgan in danger. He saved lives. His job was important. Valuable. Not something for people to question or judge him over.

  He lowered his binoculars and slowly eased his rifle around. Opened the tripod. Rested it on the hard, packed ground. Sighted Lacy in his scope. Blew out a breath. Slowed his heart rate—his breathing—and dropped his finger to the trigger.

  * * *

  Morgan struggled against her restraints as Lacy circled, flashing the knife like a sword. Morgan couldn’t believe the depth of Lacy’s anger. Bitterness had cut her to the core.

  Morgan had carried resentment for her father, so she knew how it felt on a much lower level. Her father. She might never see him again. Never be able to make amends. The thought sent a shaft of pain through her heart.