by T. R. Ragan
She brushed her fingertips over the hood of her Lamborghini as if it were her pet. After the garage door slid shut, she fished through her bag for the keys to her house. That’s when she noticed the door leading from the garage to the house wasn’t quite shut. Slowly, quietly, she reached inside her bag again, this time for her machete, before she remembered leaving it in her bedroom. Her gaze settled on a can of wasp-and-hornet spray.
She grabbed the wasp spray, then peeked through the door. She could see far enough into the kitchen area to determine that the room was empty. Nobody inside as far as she could tell. She stepped slowly inside, then stopped and listened. It was eerily quiet. She didn’t have any animals. No roommates. Nobody to greet her. She also didn’t have much furniture, which meant there were not a lot of hiding places. Mostly stone floors and marble columns.
Taking careful steps so as not to make any noise, she made her way into the living area. This room was also empty. Her gaze settled on the closet door near the front entrance.
And that’s when she felt the presence of someone behind her. With a loud squeal, she came around fast and threw a side kick, hitting the person hard in the stomach.
She then lifted the can of wasp killer and sprayed him in the face.
It was a man, a muscular guy. He was on the ground, groaning and cursing.
She gave him another quick kick to his side. He buckled. She kept at it. A kick to his left, then his right. A high kick to his jaw sent him flying backward.
But it wasn’t enough. He was the Hulk. Anger fueled him. He let out an animal howl as he came at her. He lunged. She jumped out of the way. He came at her again and this time she jumped the wrong way. His body felt like a freight train as he slammed into her. She hit the floor hard, the breath nearly knocked out of her, forcing her to fight through the pain. Before he could pin her, she twisted, jabbed an elbow to his face and then shot to her feet.
If she had her rattan sticks or her machete, she could have taken him down already. Instead, she walked backward toward the kitchen. In between backhanded swipes at his own wasp-sprayed eyes, he swung. She ducked. She kept moving, picking up objects and firing at him as she went. The stone vase knocked him in the shoulder.
He grunted.
Get to the kitchen and grab a knife. That was her plan.
He charged forward and got the tip of her boot in his groin for his efforts.
The moment she felt the kitchen tiles beneath her foot, she swiped a knife from the butcher block and wheeled with it, but it was all over.
Someone grabbed her wrist and slammed it to the counter, sending the blade skittering across the floor, and then her arm was wrenched up behind her back almost to the breaking point. Her other arm quickly joined it.
There were two men, and the second was just as strong as the first one, who was now devoted to clawing at his ravaged eyes in earnest. “It took you long enough,” he growled at his friend.
“I didn’t think you would need my help.”
“Yeah, well, neither did I.” Squinting at her through weeping, bloodred eyes, he kneed her in the gut, then pulled back and slammed a fist to her cheekbone. When he raised his fist again, she saw blood on his knuckles, tasted it in her mouth.
“Hold on,” the man behind her said to his pal. “Let’s do what we came to do.”
“Let me do what I’m gonna—”
“First things first,” the man behind her insisted. Then he was talking to Kitally. “Brian wants you to give your friend Hayley a message. Stop or die. Your choice.”
“I have a message for Brian. Tell him his time is almost up. We’re coming to get him.”
The room was spinning now, but that didn’t stop her from leaning back into the man behind her and propelling both feet into the groin of the man facing her.
After that, she counted another two blows to the face, maybe three—she wasn’t sure, because her legs buckled and everything around her faded to black.
CHAPTER 43
Seth was in the garage, sorting through his toolbox, deciding what he would need for his next kill. He had big plans.
It had all been way too easy. Three bodies so far. He needed to figure out a way to make sure all the evidence could be traced back to Madeline. There was no way he was going to take the blame for any of this. All three of these people would still be alive if it weren’t for Madeline’s lies.
He heard the front door being opened and closed. He glanced at the clock. Janelle was home early. It wasn’t long before he heard the garage door come open. Janelle stood quietly in the open doorway. She looked different tonight, younger somehow. Her hair was pinned up and soft flyaway tendrils touched the side of her face.
“I’m busy,” he said. “What is it?”
She stepped inside, looking around as she walked toward him. “I was hoping you would come inside and share a bottle of wine with me.” Her silk blouse was half unbuttoned, revealing a lacy bra he’d never seen before.
He went back to sorting through his tools.
She continued walking up close to him, oblivious to the fact that he clearly wanted to be left alone.
“Lizzy Gardner came snooping around the hospital today,” she said.
He looked down at her then and wrapped his left hand slowly around her throat. Then he slammed her against the wall. Her feet barely touched the floor. “What did she want?”
“She was asking about drugs missing from the hospital,” she squeaked out. “You’re hurting me.”
He lowered her enough so that her feet touched the ground and pressed his body against hers.
“I know you’ve been taking syringes from the hospital supply,” she rasped. “I’ve been covering for you, putting the blame elsewhere.”
“I didn’t take anything. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You don’t get it,” she said. “I’ve seen that look in your eyes when you listen to Dr. Blair on the radio. I know she fascinates you.”
He released a growl as he grabbed a fistful of silk with his free hand and ripped the blouse halfway off. Buttons flew, rattling over the concrete floor. He took a moment to admire the bite marks on her stomach, the ones he’d given her the other night. “Take your clothes off.”
She stepped out of her pants, then pulled off what was left of her blouse and unsnapped her bra. “I think you’re doing the right thing. I know what rapes look like and you didn’t rape her.”
“What exactly do you think you know?” he asked.
“I know how many syringes are missing from the hospital and I know who has access.”
“Now touch yourself while you tell me more about Madeline.”
She curled her fingers between her thighs. “Madeline’s a bitch,” she whispered. “She doesn’t deserve you. Only I can make you happy.”
“This isn’t about you. Tell me about Madeline.”
“She’s a liar. She deserves to be punished.”
He stepped close enough so that he could brush his mouth over the soft flesh of her shoulder. And then he bit down, hard.
She cried out and grabbed hold of his crotch.
“You didn’t get enough the other night,” he said with disgust.
“I could never get enough of you.”
“You’re pathetic.”
“Madeline should have listened to you,” she said, desperation lining her voice. “What are you going to do about it?”
He put his hands on both sides of her face and pressed inward as if he were an iron clamp. Rage funneled through him, making his hands shake as he thought about squeezing so hard her head would explode. The idea of getting rid of her tempted him greatly. Be done with the bitch, he thought, once and for all. But he couldn’t lose focus. Madeline was what mattered. He let Janelle go, not wanting to leave any marks that coworkers might see, then turned back to his tools and said
, “It’s none of your fucking business.”
“She’s a whore,” Janelle cried as she grabbed his arm. “She liked it when I examined her.”
“Stay away from her or I’ll kill you,” he said without looking at her. “Do you understand?”
She picked up her clothes and walked back to the door, then turned. “What about the PI?”
“The PI? You mean Lizzy Gardner?” Seth looked at her now, eyes afire. “Stay away from her, too.” The pained expression and the hurt in her eyes not only confused him, it thoroughly pissed him off. “You’re not my fucking partner, Janelle. You gave that up when you whored yourself out to your boyfriend at the hospital.”
She flinched at that as though he’d slapped her.
“Now go make me dinner. I’m hungry.”
CHAPTER 44
When Hayley walked into the hospital, the first thing she saw was Tommy, Lizzy, and Jessica sitting in the waiting room, each looking as if someone had died. Logic told her it was Kitally. She wasn’t here, so something had happened to the girl. She didn’t like the bitter taste in her mouth. If something happened to Kitally because of her, she was going to lose it for good.
“So what is this?” Hayley asked. “I have six messages on my cell, but nobody knows how to leave a clue about what’s actually happening over here.”
Lizzy scooted her plastic chair closer to a guy with a bad cough so Hayley could take a seat.
Hayley stayed on her feet. “Where’s Kitally?”
Tommy stood. “She was beat up last night. The neighbors heard a commotion. By the time the police got to her house, she was unconscious.”
“So she’s alive.”
He nodded.
“So what’s the deal?” she asked, relieved, but determined not to let on that she was worried about her friend. She wasn’t a worrier. “What’s wrong with her? Broken nail, messed-up hair? Because, shit, that would really piss her off.”
Tommy exhaled. “Broken nose, messed-up face. At this point she’s unrecognizable.”
“She’s going to live, though. So why are you all sitting here looking as if you’re already mourning for her?”
Jessica looked at Hayley and said, “I’m here because I like Kitally, and I want to hear what the doctor has to say about her recovery process. They’re still checking for internal bleeding. This wasn’t your regular everyday street fight.”
Hayley looked at Lizzy.
Lizzy stood. “I’ve been walking on eggshells around you for two years now. You rarely say two words to me. No ‘thank you’ or ‘see you later’ or even ‘how ya doing, Lizzy?’ You want to stop eating until your clothes fall off . . . stop talking until nobody remembers the sound of your voice? You want to piss off the last four friends you have left and spend the rest of your life in your own little private shithole? Well, good, have it your way.” Lizzy pointed down the hallway. “Kitally is in surgery because you’re so damned determined to get revenge. Some scumbag wanted to teach her a lesson so he could send you a very important message.”
Hayley didn’t say a word. Frustration clawed at her insides, making her want to kick something. How many times did she need to be reminded that she should have killed Brian when she had the chance?
“I’ve been here for most of the night,” Lizzy went on, her face all angry lines. “The police called me after they found a stack of business cards she’d had made on her own dime. I was right there next to her when she was wheeled in. She told me that the two men who beat her up wanted to send Hayley Hansen a message: lay off or you’re both dead.”
Hayley stared at Lizzy, unblinking, not sure what to think about all the anger pouring out of her.
“My dad is dying of cancer on the fifth floor,” Lizzy said, “and I have a few things to say to him, too.”
They all watched Lizzy walk toward the elevators.
“I’m going to go,” Jessica said. She looked at Tommy. “You have my number. Do you mind giving me a call once you hear something?”
“Not a problem.”
Hayley watched the two of them hug. Apparently everyone had formed some sort of bizarre bond when she wasn’t looking.
“Don’t you have something you need to do?” Hayley asked Tommy after Jessica left.
“Nice try,” Tommy said with a smirk. “Your badass attitude doesn’t work on me. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Music to my ears,” she said before plunking down into one of the empty seats.
Tommy shook his head as he took a seat next to her. “Why are you trying so hard to push everyone away? I don’t get it.”
“I’m not trying to do anything.”
“Then maybe you don’t even realize what you’re doing. You were never a warm, cuddly person, but you never used to be such a bitch either.”
She said nothing in response.
“Kitally came to my housewarming party last night,” Tommy said. “My friends really enjoyed her company. Nobody as much as me.”
“Are you two hooking up?”
“Would you mind if we did?”
She shrugged, wondering why she’d bothered to ask the question. She felt a strong desire to tell him to fuck off, but she didn’t know why, so she remained quiet. Words always caused problems for her.
CHAPTER 45
Cathy had flown to Portland, Oregon, yesterday and rented a car. She told her live-in ex-husband and her daughter that she was visiting a friend in Oregon, but no one else knew she’d left town. At the moment, she was sitting in the rental car across the street from a charming English Tudor with a brick front and a detached garage.
This was the house where Michelle and Emma lived. After Lizzy told her about the possibility of a half sister, she hadn’t been able to think about anything else. Life had a way of tossing obstacles at people when they least expected it.
Hadn’t she been tested enough? She didn’t like surprises. She liked having a daily routine; it made her feel safe. She liked to wake up every morning, enjoy a nice cup of hot coffee, and move on with her day in the same way she’d moved through the day yesterday and the day before that. Some people, like Lizzy, seemed to think of change as being synonymous with adventure—with living, even. Good for them. Cathy hated change.
A car pulled into the driveway.
A friend who worked at the DMV back home had helped Cathy verify that Michelle still lived at this address. The database she used also confirmed that she had a five-year-old daughter named Emma. If Emma was five years old, she was probably in kindergarten, which meant she’d be getting out of school around noon. Cathy figured she could be a detective just like her sister. So far, she’d found the house and determined the correct ETA.
She watched two people get out of the car.
The resemblance between Michelle and Lizzy was so remarkable it took her breath away. As she watched Emma skip alongside her mother, she couldn’t help but imagine Emma being the child Lizzy never had. Emma was a darling little girl with curly brown hair and a paper flower clipped to her hair.
As she stepped out of the car, Cathy inhaled a lungful of courage.
Lizzy walked into her father’s hospital room. The television was on. He was awake and he glanced at her before returning his attention to the television. She walked to the side of his bed, leaned over, and kissed his forehead. He flinched. She didn’t care.
“I know about Michelle and Emma,” she said.
Nothing. No response to that.
She took a seat in the chair that was there for visitors. “So walk me through this. Because you’ve been leading a double life—and by the way, I’m stunned you’ve had enough energy for the second one, given the way you’ve sleepwalked through the one you’ve had with us.”
He was looking at her now, at least.
“Anyway. Because you’re leading a double life, you somehow blame me for eve
rything bad that happened in your life? Seriously?” She sighed. “Still the sphinx, huh? Thanks for the eye contact, anyway. I used to try so hard to get you to look me in the eye. God, if you only knew how badly I wanted you to pick me up in your arms and tell me you loved me.”
She had to laugh at that image. She sat there for a moment, tried to put it in order. “The best part of knowing about your other life is that it kind of makes a little sense. After Samuel Jones took me to his hideout, the media attention must have been suffocating for a man like you. Your every move suddenly under a microscope. I read the articles from that time. People thought you had something to do with my disappearance. That must have shot your supposed sainthood right to hell. Did your mistress wonder about you, too? I bet she did.”
His lips moved and for less than a second she thought he might say something. He could talk. She knew that after seeing him the last time. But no, still not a word.
“Cathy wasn’t perfect either,” Lizzy told him. “She lied to you, too. Most teenagers lie to their parents about where they’re going or not going at one point in their lives. But the difference is,” Lizzy said, speaking her thoughts, “is that Cathy loved you unconditionally. She never cared whether or not you showered her with affection, did she? Just being there every once in a while was enough for her. Cathy used to get so excited when you walked through the door. Her words of adoration and love were never returned, but she didn’t seem to mind. She loved you. She still does.”
Why was I so stubborn? Why couldn’t it be that easy for me?
His eyes, dry as the desert, remained fixed on her. For the first time in her adult life, she had his attention. Strangely, a feeling of calm washed over her as she realized she no longer cared. “I am sorry you didn’t get to live the life you wanted. I truly am. I wish you could die knowing that you lived a good life and did the best you could. There’s no going back now, though. Regardless of your never forgiving me for messing up your life, I forgive you for messing up mine.”
