by Lis Wiehl
“So Maul finds out he doesn’t have long to live and then he decides that his priority is to kill everyone who held him to account for the things he did? And that’s why he killed Cassidy and Lindsay?” Allison exhaled sharply through her nose. “What a waste. What a stupid thing to die for.”
While Allison was speaking, Ophelia heard the sound of cars turning into her driveway. She went to the window and twitched aside the blind. Nicole and Leif pulled up in separate cars.
Ophelia braced herself. She was proud of her computer programming skills. While she would be able to tell them she had solved the puzzle of the killer’s identity, it would be difficult to do so without also revealing that the reason it had taken so long was that she had overlooked one obvious parameter.
But as soon as she let them in the house, Nicole started chattering away about bloody gloves and eBay and fingerprints. And about Lucas Maul. Just before they had left the motel, Detective Jensen had called Nicole with the news that a lead from Arizona had been traced back to a Dumpster two blocks from Cassidy’s apartment—and to Maul’s fingerprints being identified on a pair of bloody gloves.
Now they knew who had killed Cassidy and Lindsay. But knowing who he was, the four of them realized as they talked, was not the same as finding him. Maul had no family and no known associates aside from the two men they had found dead in the motel. All authorities could do was keep casting the net, trying to figure out a way to track him down. They planned to release his photo to the media, although it turned out they didn’t have any that showed him bald.
“Nic is staying with me for the time being,” Leif told them, putting his arm around her shoulders. “It’s not safe for her to be at home, not when Maul might be looking for her. Not when he thinks she might be the last one of the Triple Threat standing. And we’ll have an agent watching my house in case he shows up there.”
Nicole ducked her head. Ophelia wasn’t certain what emotion Nicole was feeling. She couldn’t tell if the other woman was embarrassed or happy about this turn of events.
Ophelia was also distracted by Nicole’s clothes. She was wearing a pink and maroon outfit made of some shiny polyester material. It looked like a uniform.
“Is something wrong?” Nicole asked, and Ophelia realized she had been staring. Neurotypicals were not comfortable with open scrutiny. It was fine to stare—it just wasn’t fine to get caught.
“Your clothes are a different style from what you normally wear.” Ophelia liked people to be predictable, which meant Nicole should have been wearing a dark pantsuit.
“I borrowed a housekeeper’s uniform from the motel tonight to help me talk my way into the room.” Nicole grimaced. “That was before we knew the only people in there were dead. The day manager locked up my clothes for safekeeping, but he left while we were still processing the scene, and it turns out the night guy doesn’t have a key to that closet.” She tugged at the white round collar, and Ophelia caught a flash of a black layer she wore underneath. “I can’t wait to go home and change.”
“It’s been a long day,” Leif said.
Nicole yawned, making an almost musical vocalization, and Allison followed suit. Ophelia was normally immune to neurotypicals’ contagious emotions, but other people’s yawns were sometimes infectious. She yawned as well.
“I think we should call it a night,” Leif said, stifling his own yawn. “We can regroup tomorrow and decide what we should do next. There must be some way we can figure out how to find Maul.”
“Sure.” Allison blinked slowly, as if she were already half asleep.
A few minutes later Nicole and Leif left, after hugging Allison good-bye. To forestall either of them touching her, Ophelia crossed her arms.
“I’m exhausted,” Allison said as soon as the door closed. “I’m going to bed. It’s been a long day.”
She’d only been up for about ten hours, but Ophelia understood that time could be subjective.
Maizy and Cinders were unsettled, pacing back and forth, crying occasionally. Amber was hiding someplace, probably behind the refrigerator or under the couch. Like Ophelia, the cats were unused to having strangers in the house, bringing with them their smells and sounds and odd, unpredictable behaviors. She was stroking Maizy when she heard a faint tinkling sound. Glass breaking. It had come from down the hall.
“Allison?” She stood up and started down the dark hallway. She hoped the other woman hadn’t been looking through her bathroom cabinets. Maybe she had knocked over the glass jar that held the cotton balls.
Suddenly a big hand reached out of the darkness and grabbed Ophelia’s shoulder. She gasped.
“Don’t scream or I’ll kill you,” a man whispered. In his hand she saw the silhouette of a gun with a long barrel. His shaven head gleamed in the faint light. The left side of his mouth drooped, although it didn’t seem to affect his speech.
Had he heard her say Allison’s name? And what about Allison? Was she still awake? Did she know that Lucas Maul was right here, only a few feet away?
“I won’t scream,” Ophelia said. She modulated her voice so that it was louder than normal, hoping that Allison would hear. Hear and understand. Understand and react.
But what could Allison do? The guest room held no weapons, not even something that could be an improvised weapon. She hoped that Allison had Lindsay’s cell phone with her. That she was even now calling for help.
Ophelia’s eyes had adjusted to the dim light. Past Maul she could see into her own bedroom through the now open door. The window above her bed had been broken, the blinds twisted to one side, the glass pushed out of the frame so that it now lay on her bed in glinting knife-life shards. She didn’t like to think about the tiny slivers of glass that must have slipped among the downy feathers of her comforter, or of how he must have trampled it with his shoes.
“What do you want?” she asked.
For an answer, Maul marched her back into the living room, holding her so close to himself that they bumped into each other at every step. He smelled sharply of sweat and beer. The scent took her back to a bad place.
When they stepped out into the light, she saw the silencer screwed onto the barrel of his gun. Maizy came toward them, meowing.
His foot shot out. It was so quick that Ophelia was still opening her mouth to shout a protest when he kicked the cat, almost casually, about three feet into the air. Maizy twisted in midair and managed to land on her feet, then darted under the couch, her ears flat against her head.
Ophelia was shocked. “Why did you do that?”
“Because I can,” Maul said, smiling lazily. “I can do anything I want.” There was no dissonance in his face or his body. He believed what he was telling her. “You’re very pretty, you know.” He reached his free hand toward her, and she flinched.
Maul laughed and stroked her cheek with his knuckles. She could feel the promise in them. He could caress her or kill her. His choice, and either was easy. Dark memories stirred in her gut.
“And because I can do what I want, you should do what I ask or I’ll do more bad things. And what I want is for you to get Nicole Hedges to come back here. By herself.”
“Why?” Ophelia asked. “What are you going to do to her?”
“I don’t think that’s any concern of yours, do you?” Maul offered her a smile that even she could tell was fake. He tightened his grip on her upper arm. In the morning there would be bruises shaped like fingerprints. She wondered if she would be alive to see them.
“How am I supposed to accomplish that?” Did she hear some soft movement from the back of the house, where Allison was? She reminded herself not to look in that direction, not to change expression.
“I can tell you’re a smart girl. Make something up. Just make sure she comes back without that Leif.”
“How do you know his name?”
“It’s my business to know things.” Maul’s eyes narrowed. “Not yours. So stop asking questions and do what you’re told.”
Amber walk
ed down the hall and into the room, tail switching. It was clear she sensed something was wrong. Ophelia wished she knew where the cat had come from. Had it been with Allison and slipped out when she opened the door to listen?
Maul’s lip curled as he looked at Amber. “What are you, the crazy cat lady? How many cats do you have?”
Ophelia couldn’t work out whether it was better to lie, or if so, what that lie should be, so she simply said, “Three.”
“If you don’t get Nicole Hedges here really fast, you’re only going to have two.” He turned and sighted casually at Amber, then Cinders. “Or maybe one. I need a little target practice.” He swung the gun back to Ophelia.
Over Maul’s shoulder, Ophelia saw a cell phone lying on the mantel. Her heart fell. Not her phone, but Lindsay’s. Which meant Allison had no way to alert anyone. Even if she was hearing every word of Maul’s, what could she do?
There. Another sound in the back. She knew every creak and groan of this house, and this wasn’t one of them. With difficulty, she kept her face blank and did not look toward the hall.
Then she remembered the broken window in her room, the blinds twisted to one side. It could be that the sounds she was attributing to Allison were actually common night sounds she normally didn’t hear through the closed window and the noise-reducing blinds. It was possible that Allison was sound asleep, unaware that the man who thought he had killed her was only a few feet away.
“Where’s your phone?” Maul looked around the room.
“I don’t have a landline. Just a cell phone.”
“Aren’t you modern?” Maul smirked. “Call Nicole. But put it on speaker phone. I want to hear everything both of you say. And to make sure you play nice, I’m going to be holding your cat Daisy here, and if I don’t like what I hear, I’m going to hurt her.”
Still keeping his gun pointed at Ophelia, he leaned down and scooped up Maizy with his free hand and held her against one hip. He obviously had no idea how to hold a cat, how she didn’t like her feet dangling in space. The cat writhed, but was no match for his strong hand.
“Maizy,” Ophelia said, knowing it was stupid to correct him, but unable to stop herself. “Her name is Maizy.”
“Whatever. Just make sure Nicole comes alone, or I’ll be forced to kill the cat—or you.”
It seemed probable that he would kill her either way. But what could she do? Ophelia took her phone out of her pocket, set it down on the dining room table, pressed the button for the speaker phone, and called Nicole.
“What’s up, Ophelia?”
Maul was making her lie, but she tried to insert a kind of truth. “I think I might have made a mistake. A big one. Can you come back here for a minute? There’s something I need to talk to you about, but not in front of Leif.”
“What is it?”
She hesitated. Maul squeezed Maizy until she let out a pained yowl.
“I don’t want to say over the phone.” Improvisation had never been one of Ophelia’s skills. “It’s, um, something I have to show you.”
“Is it something to do with Allison?”
She couldn’t let Nicole say anything more about Allison, couldn’t let her give away that she was still alive. “In a way. Just come back for a second. Please, Nicole? I need you.”
And then she pressed the key to end the conversation.
CHAPTER 37
Allison fell asleep as soon as she put her head on the pillow. She bobbed a little closer to consciousness, heard voices, decided Ophelia was watching TV, and dived back into the deep. Sleep was an ocean, and she wanted to drown.
A cat yowled, pulling her back onto shore. Ophelia and her cats. She seemed more comfortable with them than she did with people. She must have stepped on one’s tail. Allison had already seen how they could get underfoot, especially if they sensed the possibility of food.
Half in, half out of sleep, Allison listened to the rhythm of voices the way she would listen to the rush of the surf. A lulling background noise.
But one of the voices belonged to Ophelia. Not TV, then. The waves receded further. Who could she be talking to? And this late at night?
How much did she know about Ophelia, anyway?
Allison’s eyes sprang open.
She slipped from bed and padded to the door, holding her breath so nothing would interfere with her ability to hear. Sickeningly, she was reminded of how she had waited and listened at the bank, hesitated while her sister died in her place.
Slowly, slowly, she turned the knob. The hair on her arms rose. She knew it was irrational, but it felt like someone was waiting for her on the other side, just a few inches away, and as soon as she opened the door, she would be face-to-face with whoever it was.
With agonizing slowness, she inched the door open. And nearly cried out when the ginger tabby tried to butt its head through the crack. She pushed it back with her foot, but it persisted. Finally it made a little noise of protest, then turned and went down the hall.
She could hear the voices much more clearly now. One definitely belonged to Ophelia. The other voice was a man’s. It was not a voice that Allison knew well, but it was familiar nonetheless. The man ordered Ophelia to call Nicole and persuade her to return. When she hesitated, he threatened to kill Ophelia’s cat. And then he threatened to kill Ophelia.
Lucas Maul. It was Lucas Maul. The floor felt like it was falling away from beneath her feet. Allison tightened her grip on the doorknob, willing herself to stand upright. Lucas Maul, the man who had killed her friend. Who had killed her sister. Who had tried to kill Nicole. Who thought he had killed her.
And who now was no more than twenty feet away.
Allison had nothing to defend herself with. No gun, no mace, not even a baseball bat. Not even—her gaze darted to the blank top of the dresser—Lindsay’s phone, which she remembered leaving in the living room.
Allison listened as Ophelia followed Maul’s demands. She called Nicole and asked her to come back, ending the conversation shortly after Nicole used Allison’s name.
Had Maul picked up on that? Did he already know she was alive? Did he know she was here? Was he just tormenting her, knowing she had nowhere to run?
“Very good, Ophelia. You’ve bought yourself some time,” she heard him say. “Something I don’t have very much of these days. I have a terminal illness, Ophelia. When I learned that, I decided that if I’m going to die young, so will the people who ruined my life. They don’t deserve to be enjoying themselves when I’m not walking around on the earth anymore. They don’t deserve to eat, drink, feel the sunshine. I decided they all should be dead and buried long before I am.”
Allison had to get out of this room. Escape Maul, warn Nic, help Ophelia. She went to her window, but the only way out was through the top section. It was hard to imagine how she would be able to clamber out without making a lot of noise. And then Maul would catch her midway. He would shoot her on the spot, while she still had one leg over.
She crept back to the door. Maul was still ranting.
“I watched Cassidy’s eyes change as she realized she was going to die. I saw the terror on her face. I heard her beg and then I made her be quiet. I felt her pulse go still under my fingers.”
Allison swallowed her nausea. She had to think. She couldn’t be ruled by her disgust and fear.
“Why frame Rick McEwan for it though?” Ophelia asked.
“I didn’t want to warn the other two. It was just a bonus that I figured out how to blame it on a cop. Then when I killed Allison, I told her to say hello to Cassidy. I wanted her to know that her death wasn’t random after all.”
But Lindsay’s had been. Lindsay had died in her place. Allison had to stop him. Maybe she could rush down the hall and surprise him? Somehow snatch the gun from his hands? If he was standing with his back to the hall, it could possibly work.
But it probably wouldn’t.
Suddenly a flash of lightning lit up the hall, making Allison gasp. A gust of warm, damp wind blew aga
inst her right cheek.
She froze. Had Maul heard her?
No. He was still lecturing Ophelia, apparently enjoying an audience. Meanwhile, time was ticking away. She had to find a way to escape and warn Nicole.
Wait. Why could she feel a breeze? Then she realized that Ophelia’s door was open. Allison opened her own door another inch, two, until she could see into Ophelia’s room. The glass had been broken out from the window, the blinds twisted to one side.
It was a way out. Once she was outside she could warn Nicole. And Nicole could summon help for Ophelia.
But depending on where Maul was, Allison might die trying.
Last time she had waited. Last time she had been cautious.
And last time Lindsay had died.
Before she could think about it too much, she ducked low, scurried into Ophelia’s room, and leapt up on the bed. She was holding her breath. Maul’s rant didn’t pause. A shard of glass sliced her foot, just a slippery sensation at first, followed by a sharp pain. She bit her lip. She should have slipped on some shoes, but there was no time to think about that now.
She jumped out of the broken window, landing painfully on her hands and knees. It was raining hard, and one palm slipped on the wet grass, wrenching her shoulder. With a muffled grunt, Allison pushed herself to her feet. Scrambling around the corner, out of sight of the front door, she pressed her back against the side of the house. She looked up and down the block. There was no one in sight. The street was wide and empty, lit up by streetlights. It looked like a stage set, like it was just waiting for Gene Kelly to dance down it, singing about the rain.
It did not look like a place to hide.
