The Forbidden

by Heather Graham

Then he crashed to the floor.

  * * *

  Kenneth Richard had an attorney at his side, but, apparently, Cara hadn’t been very good at getting a well-paid and expert attorney to him.

  The lawyer at his side, Carl Hewett, Esquire, was barely a kid out of law school.

  That could be an advantage for Fin.

  “Mr. Richard is seeing you here only in the spirit of cooperation. He doesn’t know what you think you might have found. But he’ll talk to you, because he’s innocent,” the young attorney told Fin and Ryder.

  “Kenneth, I’m sorry—you seem like an all-right guy,” Fin said. “But evidence leads to you. And pictures we have from your great-grandfather’s stash...well, they implicate you, too.”

  Kenneth shook his head. “Look, my great-grandfather was a horrible human being. We knew that because our parents hated him. They never explained exactly why, but I think we all believed that he was a pedophile. We saw him so rarely. I don’t think that anyone in the generation ahead of us could prove anything against him, they just kept us away from him when we were kids. I don’t know what he might have done. I only know what I haven’t done!”

  “Then who is it?” Fin asked. “Kenneth, we’re going to be able to prove that you’ve been involved.”

  “If anything was done, the old man did it.”

  “Not by himself,” Ryder said.

  “Kenneth, you know what’s going on. I know that you do,” Fin said.

  “State charges, federal charges...and the death penalty in the state of Louisiana. Wait—Mississippi has the death penalty, too, but you can only use lethal injection on someone once.”

  To Fin’s surprise, Kenneth suddenly began to laugh and cry, at the same time. He stared from Ryder to Fin. “Lethal injection!” he said. “Now there’s a piece of cake next to...oh, Lord. Next to so very much.”

  Fin leaned forward. “Dammit, Kenneth, tell us who was working with you, killing with you, and we’ll lock them up and then they can’t get to you, don’t you see? And if you cooperate, we can ask that the attorneys not seek the death penalty. Kenneth—” There was a tap at the door. Fin sat back. Ryder went to the door, but before Fin could say anything else to Kenneth, Ryder called Fin over.

  “Be right back,” he promised Kenneth.

  He rose and went to the door of the interrogation room, where Ryder was standing with an officer.

  “They’ve found Samara Stella at her place, knife in her chest.”

  Fin gritted his teeth, damning himself. They’d had officers watching her.

  Patrols could only go so far.

  Taking in Fin’s grim expression, Ryder continued. “Believe it or not, she’s hanging on. She’s at the trauma center—there’s a slim chance. But, Fin—”

  Ryder broke off as they both heard a choking sound from the interrogation room.

  “Help! Sweet Jesus, help!” the young attorney screamed.

  Fin swung back into the room.

  Carl Hewett was standing, looking at the floor behind the chair where Kenneth Richard had been sitting.

  Fin rushed around. Kenneth was on the floor; his mouth was filled with foaming saliva and he was choking and seizing.

  “Medic!” Fin shouted, trying to swing the man around and stop him from biting off his tongue.

  Whatever—whoever—the man had been afraid of, that fear had been stronger than the will to live, the will to take a chance that the police could help him.

  Paramedics rushed in.

  “Smell it—cyanide!” one exclaimed.

  Fin moved out of the way. Help moved in. Fin knew that it was too late.

  He leaped to his feet and rushed out the door.

  “Fin!” Ryder called after him.

  “The house—I have to get to the house.” Fin shouted over his shoulder. “Get a cruiser out there, the closest cops. They’re going to go after Avalon, so we’ve got to move!”

  He still wasn’t sure how it had all worked. But he had a growing fear that there was one suspect that they hadn’t looked at seriously enough.

  And he felt raw terror...

  Because others wouldn’t have begun to suspect that one person, either.

  * * *

  At first, the situation was so bizarre that it didn’t register in Avalon’s mind.

  Kevin on the floor...

  And a woman behind him, smiling at her.

  Cara Holstein.

  Next to her, her husband—with a knife against Lauren’s throat.

  Then it all registered too quickly.

  Kenneth might well be a killer, but he hadn’t been working alone...as they had surmised. But none of them had thought it was Cara, tiny Cara Holstein, still holding the gun she’d used to clock Kevin, smiling and obviously enjoying the fact that Avalon was in pure shock.

  “Don’t scream. Gary’s knife is razor-sharp. We have to go, and we have to go quickly.”

  Avalon feared she’d fall to pieces; scream and collapse, despite all that she’d promised herself about being brave.

  But, to her amazement, she didn’t.

  “Cara, you helped your husband write that essay. Fantasy murder! That’s what I’ve been missing, Cara—well, I just missed it last night. The way you were talking, something along the lines of ‘men watch women, women watch men.’ It’s your pattern of speech! You even used the word stalking. Wow. Well, I guess you should be proud of yourself. None of us... I mean, we knew one of you was involved.”

  “Kenneth is a murdering bastard,” Cara said. Then she glanced at her watch. “I should say was a murdering bastard, that sniveling little coward...well, I’m sure he took care of matters himself. Let’s go. Now. Or she dies.”

  Avalon could see Lauren’s eyes were filled with terror.

  They would both die, she thought. Where were Brad, Leo, Boris and Terry?

  Terry and Brad had gone out, but the other men should be somewhere nearby. “Now!” Cara demanded.

  “Fine!” she snapped. Kevin was on the floor.

  She didn’t know how badly injured he was.

  No. She wouldn’t think that way. She’d keep Lauren alive, and she knew that Fin and Ryder would be there, that someone would come.

  “Where?” she demanded, hands on her hips as she stared at Cara.

  “Step out of the room and follow Gary, and don’t make one tricky move. My hubby will slit her throat and I’ll shoot you dead here and now. Got it, you snooty bitch actress? You know, you’re not my type in the least, but Gary has been pining after you for the longest time, and I am a good wife. So move your skinny perfect little actress ass and do not make a false move!”

  She walked out into the hall. She heard a thundering noise from down the hall. It was coming from behind another door, where Boris and Leo were apparently locked in a room.

  One of them would have a cell phone. Surely, they’d be calling for help.

  She moved, but as slowly as she dared, as she tried to figure out a way to stall.

  “If the cops show, they’ll shoot us, but I’ll make sure sweet little Lauren dies first!”

  “Where am I going?” Avalon asked.

  “Out to the navy SUV—right into the back seat. And fast.”

  Avalon walked, wishing the police would arrive—worried what would happen when they did.

  How could she help Lauren if this went any further, if there was less chance of help?

  “Avalon,” Lauren whispered. It was barely a breath.

  Gary, his expression as bland as a pastry, until she looked that way.

  Then he smiled. It was the most frightening smile Avalon had ever seen; rich in evil and amusement, so twisted and sick...

  She walked.

  Heading straight to the door.

  There, she found out what had happened to Brad and Terry.

>   * * *

  The alarm was blaring, and two patrol cars were parked in front of the house when Fin and Ryder arrived.

  The door was just being broken down.

  Running to it, Fin saw one officer down on the sidewalk by the steps; he saw that Brad and Terry were there. Brad’s eyes were open, and he was staring ahead, dazed, a trickle of blood running down his forehead.

  “EMTs are on the way!” one of the officers shouted to Fin.

  Terry was propped up against the wall, his head falling to the side.

  “Both breathing! Barely!” the officer said.

  Fin nodded and ran into the house. He could hear the pounding upstairs and he tore in that direction. The lock was stuck or broken. Using his full weight against it, he broke in.

  Boris was there with Leo; Leo was trying to calm him, Boris was hysterical. “They... I think they got Brad and Terry. They had keys, they turned off the alarm... Where are they? Avalon and Lauren, oh, God...we don’t even know who...oh, God.” He began to shriek Avalon’s and Lauren’s names, rushing out to the hall.

  Fin had never moved so fast in his life. He raced through the house like wildfire, aware that others were searching, too.

  But the women were gone.

  He cursed himself for a fool.

  He burst out onto the street. He was stunned to see a familiar face, that of a woman in a feathered high hat and elegant gown, anxious as she looked at him.

  She wasn’t living; it was the ghost of Kathryn Anne McNeil.

  She came right up to Fin and spoke urgently. “Just minutes ago, they forced both women into a car. The man shouted something to the woman about getting out of the French Quarter as quickly as possible. He was screaming that it was his turn, and his fantasy and screw the rest of it, he was going to make it perfect, all that he had dreamed. They have Avalon! And the other young woman. Go!”

  He didn’t wait.

  He jumped into his car and started driving, but he didn’t know where he was going.

  And then he did...

  The killer wanted it perfect.

  They were going back to the beginning.

  * * *

  Avalon’s head was killing her.

  She woke confused, in pain. Then she remembered that Gary had struck her when she was getting in the car, and that explained the pain.

  She was lying on something hard. And she was wearing something...smooth and soft. Silk, but she was lying on something hard, so hard...

  They’d dressed her! They’d knocked her out and taken her clothes and dressed her up! She was a theater person, not particularly hung up about nudity, but the violation...it made her skin crawl. It was so horrible, so, so horrible...

  She was worried about clothing, when she didn’t know where she was, where they were, what was happening...

  And then she knew.

  She was lying on a tomb.

  The tomb she had lain on during the last day of filming.

  She heard a soft groan and tried to crack her eyes open a shade, not giving away the fact that she was conscious.

  She could see Lauren. Her friend was still alive. She was slumped up against the wall of a nearby family mausoleum.

  Then Avalon heard talking. The killers talking.

  Cara Holstein was giggling. “I wonder if they’ll still think that my stupid prick peacock cousin, Julian, was involved. Such an idiot. All of them. Such idiots. Looking at a handsome guy, too full of themselves to realize that a sweet little woman can cajole just about anyone anywhere!”

  “I’m the one who got Cindy West to come with me!” Gary argued.

  “And Kenneth got Ellen Frampton—and you both fucked up with that flapper girl in Houma!”

  “We weren’t caught, right? We lived to kill another day!” Gary said, bursting into laughter at his own joke. “Gramps taught you well, baby. But now, it’s time for you to get the hell out of here. This is it! My dream, my fantasy—Avalon Morgan!”

  “You do know, my darling, that most wives really wouldn’t tolerate such deviant behavior!” she said primly.

  “Hey, you taught me how to enjoy killing. And your great-grandfather...well. Hey, I’m not cheating on you, not really—not when they’re dead, right?”

  “How are you going to do it?” Avalon felt sick at how eager Cara sounded.

  “The knife.”

  “You’ll get blood all over her! There won’t be a display! The displays are my part of this, and you already made a mess out of that dominatrix chick. That was sloppy!”

  “Kenneth could be giving us up—”

  “Kenneth is dead. Trust me, Kenneth was far more afraid of what he knew I could do to him than of anything else in this world. He knew what to do.”

  “So get out of here,” Gary said. “It’s time. Dammit, I’m not sure that cop is dead, there’s another cop on the island somewhere, and I don’t have much time! Get the hell out of here, Cara!”

  “I do all of this for you—”

  “You do all of this because you’re a sick bitch who gets off on it!” Gary screamed at her. “This is it. This is my fantasy—go!”

  Fear seared through Avalon’s heart. He was going to kill her.

  She struggled to move, certain that she was tied down. But...she could move!

  But Cara had a gun; she had to wait for the woman to leave.

  She felt Gary’s hands on her face...

  Then she heard a voice, a woman’s voice, familiar and urgent, “Stay low, low... I’ll tell you as soon as she’s walked out of the picture. You need to be careful—she’s trigger-happy. They didn’t kill the cop they ran into—their boat is pulled up in the weeds in the shallows. Don’t open your eyes... I’ll be distracting, I’ll try to be distracting... Hold on, I know you can make it, honey!”

  Gary paused suddenly, shivering as if he had felt a cold breeze, then pulled his hands away. Avalon dared open her eyes. Gary was looking around.

  Avalon smiled. Vanessa was there, Henri was just behind her, trying to force a rock against a headstone to make a distracting noise.

  Avalon didn’t scream. Vanessa was running her hands over Gary’s face, around his shoulders, and the man was shivering, as if he knew...

  But then Gary straightened and raised his knife high.

  “Look at me!” he screamed. “Your eyes, I must see your eyes!”

  * * *

  Fin hadn’t waited; he’d jumped into one of the police speedboats, certain that the yelling officers would be close behind him, but that was good.

  Reaching the island, he didn’t want to make his presence known, so he cut the power and let the current take him close.

  Then he just jumped in the water and raced through tangling seagrass and shrubs.

  He didn’t question himself.

  He headed to the cemetery. To the tomb where Avalon had lain...

  And she was there.

  Gary Holstein had a knife raised high above her.

  Fin had his gun, but Avalon was rising, as if she would fight off the blade with bare flesh.

  If he fired, he could hit her...

  He ran as he’d never run before, and somehow, didn’t trip over broken stones, and sailed over and around broken-winged angels and reproachful cherubs.

  He vaulted over the tomb and head-butted Gary Holstein right where his ribs met his abdomen, hearing the man scream along with the sound of a cracking bone. He fought desperately to remember that he was an officer of the law, that he couldn’t pummel the man to death.

  Fin stood and then straddled him, wrenching his arms behind his back, and cuffed his wrists with a sturdy zip tie. Then he looked up and saw a flash of white fury go by him.

  Avalon.

  She tackled Cara Holstein, bringing her down, just as he had brought down the husband.

  Av
alon wasn’t an officer of the law.

  She socked the woman with a right to her jaw that was stunning.

  Then she looked up at Fin.

  “She had a gun!” she announced. “She was going to shoot you!”

  He dropped down by her. Cara was viciously spewing hateful words. He rolled her over and cuffed her. Then he staggered up, bringing Avalon along with him.

  By then, the officers had nearly caught up with them.

  The cemetery was spilling over with police.

  “Medic!” he shouted.

  They were racing toward him, and he stopped them, pointing to Lauren.

  Then he looked at Avalon and she smiled...and kicked Cara, who was twisting in the grass.

  “Damn, you have good timing.”

  “Damn, you put up a good fight!”

  She smiled. “I had a little help!” she said, as he folded her into his arms.

  He saw Vanessa and Henri. And he lifted a hand and mouthed the words, Thank you.

  Then, he just held Avalon, and felt her shaking in his arms.

  Epilogue

  It was a dream, and it was wonderful.

  Avalon woke up to see that Fin was lying beside her, blond hair all disheveled on the pillow, eyes closed, body still so close to hers, one arm against her naked ribcage and breast.

  She had awakened...with him still beside her.

  He smiled, and then opened his eyes.

  He didn’t move. Then he reached for her, pulling her closer.

  “So much to do today...” he said.

  “You’re getting up?”

  The smile he gave her wasn’t sleepy at all.

  “Not yet.”

  “You’re still half-asleep!”

  “Oh, no, no, no. I have intentions...”

  She laughed. He showed her his intentions.

  The most miraculous thing about the finale of the Christy family killers was that on that last day, no one died. Kevin, Terry and Brad suffered head injuries and had to be hospitalized for observation, along with the two officers Cara had taken down on the island.

  They had missed Samara Stella’s heart, though they’d punctured a lung, and she would heal, given a lot of time and care.