by T. R. Ragan
Lizzy put a hand on her belly, prompting one of them to ask, “Boy or girl? Do you know yet?”
“I have no idea,” Lizzy said. “I told the doctor I didn’t want to know ahead of time.”
“Any ideas for names?” Kitally asked.
“Not yet. But don’t worry. I won’t take as long as Salma did to come up with a name.”
“We need to hurry this along,” Hayley said, “if we’re going to get Jessica to the airport on time.”
“When are you coming back to Sacramento?” Lizzy asked Jessica.
“I’m not sure yet, but I’ll give you a call next week.”
Lizzy watched the girls and found herself smiling, relieved to think that their vigilantism had been short-lived. Nobody, including Detective Chase, ever brought up the file regarding the unnamed man with the bag over his head, leaving Lizzy to believe, or at least hope, it had been a suicide, just as she’d thought. Owen Dunham, the man who’d had his balls cut off, and Donald Holmes, the prison guard, were nowhere to be found. Holmes was a wanted man. If he ever did reappear, he would be thrown in jail, since they had searched his house and discovered he had uploaded thousands of indecent images of children on the Internet. Wallace, the first on their list to be thrown in jail, would be serving the next ten years locked up. Scott Shaffer, number four on the list, had been arrested after one of his homemade bombs was detonated. They’d found five more bombs along with detailed letters on his computer of the buildings he planned to destroy, including the state capitol. Hayley and Kitally both swore they had nothing to do with the bombing incident. Ironic was the word Kitally had used when Lizzy asked her about it. Hayley had responded with a shrug and nothing more. Lizzy got a different response from her when she’d asked about Nora Belle Castor, also known as the Ghost. Within twenty-four hours after Hayley had delivered the Ghost’s name and address to a group of homeless people, the girl had disappeared. Hayley swore she had no idea what had become of her.
Wayne Bennett was the only one on their list who was free to do as he pleased. His crutches slowed him down, and, according to Detective Chase, he would be undergoing an extensive and painful recovery. Even so, there would come a day when he was back to his old tricks. Grady Orwell, prosecutor and now friend, had a new plan he wanted to discuss with Lizzy, and she would be meeting with him next week.
Brittany and Jessica gave Lizzy a hug and headed for Kitally’s car.
“We didn’t hang the mobile or the pictures,” Kitally explained, “because the walls are still wet and you should probably wait for Tommy. He said he would come by next week to help.” She gave Lizzy a hug, told her to take care of herself, and then made her way to the car.
Hayley stood at Lizzy’s side. “I really don’t like the idea of you living here in the boonies,” Hayley said, “without a gun to protect yourself.”
“I still have my gun. I just want to get used to keeping it locked up where it belongs. I can’t keep it in a drawer after this baby is born.”
“I get that. But you and I both know Bennett is going to find out where you live. When that happens, you need to be armed and ready.”
“He’ll be out of commission for a while longer,” Lizzy told her. “What about Owen Dunham and Donald Holmes?”
“What about them?”
“I haven’t been able to locate either one of them. What if they decide to seek revenge against you and Kitally?”
“It’s not going to happen.”
“How do you know?”
“I just know,” Hayley said. “Let it go, and stop worrying. It’s not good for the baby.”
Lizzy gazed out toward the pond. She refused to believe Hayley had stepped over the line. Instead, she thought about all the barbecues and parties they would have here on her property. She would get a kayak and have someone set up a horseshoe pit. It was easy to let her imagination get away from her because in her mind’s eye, they were all here, even Jared.
Two hours after the girls had left, Lizzy stepped back, screwdriver in her hand, and wiped her brow. She took a good long look at the baby’s room. They had painted the room a beautiful powder blue. On one of the walls, Hayley had painted a tree with two shades of green leaves and a bluebird singing on a branch. She was a talented young woman. The room was perfect.
Although Lizzy had promised them she would wait for Tommy to build the mobile that attached to the crib, she’d only managed to hold off for an hour. After they all left the house, Lizzy found the tools she needed, and finished the job herself.
She wasn’t an invalid—she was pregnant.
Setting up the mobile had taken fifteen minutes.
She set the screwdriver on the dresser. Her feet sank into plush carpet as she walked to the crib. Reaching inside, she brushed her fingertips over the cotton blanket. She wound up the mobile next. Smiled when the whimsical music began to play and the tiny knit animals went around and around.
Back at the dresser, she opened the top drawers, which were filled with nighties and soft cotton T-shirts. When she looked up, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror. She’d been eating good and taking better care of herself since she learned she was pregnant. Her face was filling out again. Her cheekbones were less prominent, and the haunted expression was finally disappearing. She laid the palms of her hands on her growing belly, felt her baby kick, not once, but twice. It was still hard for her to believe Jared’s baby was growing inside her.
She picked up the photo Jessica had snuck into the room as a surprise before they all left. She knew it was Jessica because she was the one who had run back into the house at the last minute, telling everyone she’d forgotten her cell phone. The picture was of Lizzy and Jared, taken a few years ago on an exceptionally beautiful day with nothing but blue skies in the background. They were holding hands, both smiling. Jessica had taken the picture without their knowledge.
A lump caught in her throat.
She was having their baby. A baby made in love. Their child would grow up hearing stories about his or her daddy. How brave his or her daddy was. How handsome, too.
“What a touching moment.”
Her head snapped up.
A sickening jolt of awareness lit up her insides. Wayne Bennett was standing in the doorway of the baby’s room. He wore a boot on his bad leg, but apparently he no longer needed crutches. He’d lost a considerable amount of weight. His face was a mess.
“You honestly thought you could do what you did and all would be forgiven? I thought you were smarter than that, Lizzy Gardner.”
She put the picture down, her fingers feeling around the top of the dresser for the screwdriver.
Where the hell is it?
She found it. With screwdriver in hand, she took a slow backward step toward the crib, her gaze never leaving the man in the doorway. “How did you find me?”
He tried to flash his trademark grin, but his upper lip was twisted because of a thick keloid scar that now ran across his face; his attempt to smile failed miserably. The scar ran diagonally across his face, starting at his lip and across his nose and one eye, ending at his hairline.
“I have my ways,” he said as he stepped closer. “And you must have known I never overlook unfinished business.”
“Was Miriam Walters unfinished business?”
“What do you think?”
“What did you do with her body?”
“The same thing I’m going to do with yours. Nobody will ever find you. Just think—you’ll be sparing your friends and family the price of an expensive coffin.” His eyes lit up. “And if there is an afterlife, you and Jared will be together again.” He looked at the crib beside her. “All three of you, in fact. How sweet it will be. I have a place ready for you—a nice, deep grave beneath rich, dark soil.”
He took another step toward her.
She jabbed the screwdriver in the shrink
ing space between them.
He chuckled. “Put that away. You’ll just hurt yourself.”
Another step toward her. He pulled a knife from his pocket and opened its short blade.
Pinned in the corner between the crib and the wall with a lousy screwdriver for a weapon, Lizzy had no illusions about her chances. Still, there was nothing for her to do but strike first. Just as he began to take his last closing step, Lizzy swept the tangled, glittering mobile hard into his face with one hand and drove the screwdriver into his arm with the other, ramming him with her shoulder as he bellowed and running past him before he could inflict any damage of his own.
The bellowing went silent as she raced for the front door. Whether the silence was good or bad she didn’t know, but she had her answer as she fought to free the door of its chain and felt a sharp, searing pain between her shoulder blades. His knife went deep. Her hands fell away from the chain and went flat against the door. An immense whoosh of breath left her as she felt him pull the knife from her flesh.
Bennett released a long satisfied sigh, like a lover might, and then she felt him begin to move again.
Her baby. She must save the baby. Dropping and wheeling, she pushed herself from the door and rolled to one side as he struck again. The blade struck hard, impaling the wood.
She found her feet and staggered away, her body already growing numb.
A weapon. She needed a weapon.
Gun and holster had been locked away. She’d made the mistake of thinking her life could be a simple one, but she’d been wrong. Evil never dies. Zachary Tucker’s words.
She could hear Bennett on her heels again.
As she passed the decorative cabinet in her living area, she grabbed the heavy iron statue—an elephant, its thick trunk reaching for the sky, a sign of good luck—and pivoted hard on her heels, swinging the elephant with every ounce of strength she could summon and making contact with Bennett’s left shoulder, lifting a grunt from him and sending him staggering back, an expression of surprise on his face.
The heavy cut glass vase came next, but that one he ducked.
She ran past the couch, down the hallway, and to her bedroom. She planned to lock the door, call 911—but Bennett’s reactions were faster than hers. He cut between a chair and the coffee table, dived for her, and stabbed her leg with his knife, bringing her to the ground with him.
He yanked the knife out, releasing a lance of pain from her leg and a low chuckle from Bennett. He sounded as though he was having the time of his life. He probably was, at least until she drew the knee of her good leg to her chest and kicked her heel into his chin, then delivered another swift kick to his groin.
He doubled over. Growled in pain.
All she could do was crawl away from him, leaving a bloody trail across the floor as she made her way to the kitchen.
She couldn’t feel him coming after her, but she knew it wouldn’t be long. She dragged herself across the floor, past the small wood dining table to the cabinets, straining every muscle as she tried to pull herself upward. Another inch and she could reach the top drawer where she kept the knives.
But he was coming.
She could hear him now.
She opened a different drawer instead. When he appeared, she threw everything she could at him: an apple slicer, serving spoons, and a rubber spatula.
It was no use.
Even with his bad leg, he had no problem maneuvering. He ducked and shuffled, easily dodged every utensil.
He was laughing again now, having fun with her.
With the meat tenderizer in her grasp, she caught sight of the broom leaning against the wall and the cabinets in the far corner of the kitchen.
She had explicitly told Kitally no weapons allowed in her house.
But Kitally had left the broom for her anyhow.
The girl knew about living alone. She was brilliant, and the love Lizzy felt for her in that moment was boundless.
Lizzy crawled that way, keeping the table between herself and Bennett, dragging her injured leg behind her. She must’ve made quite a picture, because he laughed again.
Keep laughing. Take your time. Toy with me, you bastard.
And he did. He let her reach the broom, let her maneuver herself until she was sitting upright on the floor, leaning against the wall for support and struggling to catch her breath. Shivering and weak, she knew she was losing the fight. Holding the broom with one hand, she placed the other on her belly and willed the baby to kick. There was no movement.
“Give it up, Gardner. It’s over.”
He stood near the sink, ten feet away.
This was it. All of her past training, everything she’d been through had brought her to this moment. She refused to be a victim. She needed to get to her feet. She had no choice. Using the broom and the wall for support, she pushed her body upward, grimacing in pain, until finally she stood tall. Their gazes never strayed from each other. “I will not let you harm my baby.”
“You should have thought about that months ago.” He cocked his head to one side, staring at her with a confused look in his eyes. “Who do you think you are?”
With both hands clutched tightly around the broomstick, she twisted the handle, trying to release the brush at the bottom as she talked to him, hoping to keep his attention on her words and away from the broom. “I’m just one person trying her best to get a little justice in the world.” She twisted harder. Something clinked and came loose, but she kept her eyes on Bennett’s.
He smiled. “Was it worth it?”
“I think so,” she said.
He shook his head. “You’ve found yourself in a very tight corner, haven’t you, Lizzy?”
“It appears so, but I have my broom and I will not lay down my weapon and give up.”
“Your weapon?” He let out another throaty chuckle. “You’re ridiculous, Lizzy Gardner, but you’re a fighter. I’ll give you that. I could see it in your eyes the day you and that reporter came to film me. That was your first mistake. That was the day I started watching you, Gardner. And I never had to go out of my way to find you because I have eyes and ears everywhere.”
“So, why are you here? Why didn’t you send one of your goons to do your dirty work?”
“Because this right here,” he said, wagging a finger back and forth between the two of them, “means too much to me to hand it off to one of my ‘goons,’ as you say.”
“Oh, I see. I’m special.” Her thumb slid back and forth on the smooth wood as she searched for the button or lever Kitally had used to release the spear.
“I don’t know if special is the word I would use.”
“I have a word for you,” she said, still searching for the damned lever. “But I don’t think you deserve to know what that word is.”
“Oh, you’re a tease,” he said. “Please, tell me now and spare me the suspense.”
“Not until I’m standing over your cold, dead body,” she said as she slid a hand to the top of the handle. “That’s when I’ll bend down on my knees and whisper it into your ear, so softly you’ll think an angel is blowing you one last kiss before she boots your ass to the devil downstairs.”
There. Her thumb made contact with the tiny switch that would cause a sharp spear to jut outward. She smiled.
“You do realize you’re bleeding out, don’t you?” Bennett asked her. “If I choose to stand here long enough, I could watch you die a slow, painful death, but I’m more compassionate than you think.”
“I’m not the one who is going to die tonight,” she said between ragged breaths.
“You never give up, do you?”
“Never.”
“Well, Gardner, I’m a busy man.” He started for her, his ugly and crooked smile twisting into a mask of rage right before he lunged for her.
She lifted the broom handle, pushed ha
rd on the lever, and braced for impact.
The next few seconds were a crazy blur. Bennett had come at her so fast she never saw the tip of the spear before it sprang into place and disappeared within his chest.
His face paled.
Gripping the broom handle as tightly as she could, she yanked back and pulled the spear out of his chest, then slid slowly to the floor, her back against the wall.
Blood bloomed up through his shirt as he staggered backward, out of reach. A look of surprise touched his eyes before he toppled over, unmoving.
Within a minute, his chest no longer rose and fell with each breath. It was over. He would never hurt anyone else.
She closed her eyes, every breath a struggle. White light exploded around her. And then she saw Jared. He was smiling at her, and her spirit lifted at the sight of him. She reached for him. He leaned close to her ear and whispered three words.
Detective Chase was watching a football game and enjoying deep-fried tortellini when he got a call.
Officer Gary Johnson was on the line. “You called it, Detective. They found Miriam Walters’s body less than a mile from Wayne Bennett’s Lake Tahoe cabin.”
Stunned, Chase picked up the remote and shut off the TV. “Where exactly was the body?”
“There’s a trail that leads from Bennett’s cabin to the lake. Her body was found half-buried just off the beaten path, so to speak.”
All the air left him. Chase knew Bennett was bad news, but he’d never figured the man for a murderer.
“Are you still there?”
“I’m here,” Chase said, trying to collect his thoughts.
“So it looks like Gardner was right. Bennett was lying through his teeth when he said he never met Miriam Walters.”
“Where did you hear that?”
“It’s on the tape that Gardner sent to the station, along with other evidence against Wayne Bennett before she announced her retirement from the PI business.”
“Where is Bennett now? Have they brought him in for questioning?”
