by Susan Conley
“It’s your own fault, Beth. What did you think I was going to do? You ran away with your lover. You have one chance to save your life. Give me back the flash drive and I’ll let you go.”
Flash drive? She stopped herself short of blurting out, what flash drive? Her mind was a mess. “You expect me to think clearly with drugs in my system?”
“You don’t need to think, just tell me where it is.”
“I’ll tell you nothing until you untie me.” If there had been a flash drive in the backpack, it must have been with the money since both she and Calum had searched the backpack and found nothing.
Matthew crossed the room to the window, pulled back the brown–checked drape and peered out. “You have two minutes to think.”
She wouldn’t send him to Janine Miller. A muscle in her arm cramped. She bit back the pain. A story. She needed a reasonable story. The cramp tightened. Digging her heels into the bed, she braced and pulled back away from the bed frame as hard as she could, but gained no ground. Damn! Duct tape. That bloody stuff worked on everything.
No denying the tape was authentic, but Matthew the killer? That couldn’t be real. When you were not in the real world there was only one thing to do. “Finn!”
Matthew turned back to face her. “Be quiet, Beth. Your lover’s not going to save you this time.” He crossed the room in four steps. The quiet tone he used unsettled her more than if he’d yelled.
Beth shot her leg out and kicked hard, slamming into his thigh. The impact knocked him into the wall beside the bed. He looked down at his thigh and then lifted his head and pierced her with eyes aghast. If he thought she was going down without a fight, he truly was deranged. She wiggled her bum back tight to the headboard and braced herself for his retaliation. Fists clenched, he looked ready to strike, but he didn’t move.
“I guess I wasn’t rough enough for you.” He straightened his back. “Is that what you wanted, Beth? Does the mountain man force you into submission? Did he force you to steal my flash drive, sweetheart?” The naked light from the bulb overhead grotesquely emphasized the dark shadows under his red–veined eyes. Keep him talking. Give Finn a chance to save the day. She called out to the elf character again, but silently this time.
“I didn’t steal your flash drive. I told you what happened back in Ashbury. Bruce attacked me in my kitchen. I was scared so I ran.” A sick thought suddenly turned her stomach. “You told Bruce I’d found the backpack, didn’t you? That’s why he ransacked the house and threatened me.” Had Matthew ever cared about her? On the flip side, Calum had crossed worlds to save her from a menace he hardly understood.
Matthew scoffed. “You think I believe that? You needed someone to break the encryption, for leverage, for blackmail.”
“Blackmail you? We came to Quebec to question Chantal Desjardins. Her business card was in the backpack. Why are you stealing money, Matthew? You have a successful career, live a good life. What more do you need?”
“Don’t play dense, Beth, like you forgot how it felt to win the lottery. I suppose you didn’t think sex with me could compare to a body rush like that. You think you’re above me, don’t you, just like my brother.”
Why had she not seen his twisted perspective before?
“Your lack of discipline sickened me,” he continued. “But still I persisted, tried to teach you how to manage your life. Your money sense is kindergarten level, Beth. I could have done so much more. At least you were malleable. And you’re not without admirable qualities, your community service was truly commendable.”
“Commendable or convenient? How do you sleep at night? You robbed the people in my meal program by mortgaging their homes.”
“I stole from them because they don’t have the decency to think beyond themselves. They hoard their money and let the banks get richer. Do they ever give anything back? Their money is building a hospice in Belize for cancer patients. I’m giving them some good fucking karma.”
“Good karma? That’s how you justify robbing the elderly? Where’s your integrity, Matthew? This is about feeding your ego. Who gets credit for the hospice? Not Mrs. Miller, that’s for sure.”
He cocked his head and cupped his clean–shaven jaw in a gloved hand. “You phoned Amanda to check for mortgage records. The timing of it was synchronistic. My finding you was meant to be. The hospice is meant to be.”
“Didn’t you need signatures and identification to set up mortgages?” Keep him talking. She’d have more information to use against him when this was all over.
As she’d hoped, his smile was pure ego. He wanted to talk about it. “Remember when you got sick and couldn’t deliver the meals for a couple weeks? The timing was perfect.” She remembered — a devastating flu virus.
“Bruce and I served breakfast to the old folks in your stead, love. I didn’t phone you in sick like I said I would. I told Sophie you were running late and charmed her into handing over lunch. While I was at each house, Bruce showed up offering a free mould inspection to the seniors, an inspection I advocated. You know unchecked mould can be a killer on old respiratory systems. I kept them busy serving breakfast while Bruce photographed their identification.”
Matthew circled the bed, eyeing her feet. “We targeted old folks with their houses paid off. I took out a $400,000 mortgage on Mrs. Miller’s house alone.”
She suddenly remembered a startling detail from the newspaper. “Did you kill Mrs. Cobbs?”
“No one could have anticipated her heart condition. Shame we couldn’t mortgage her house then.” He flexed his fingers, fingers that had threaded through hers only a week ago. “Enough chitchat. You’ve had time to sober up now. Where’s the flash drive, Beth?”
“This plan of yours won’t work. The police will figure out what you did. You’ll be running for the rest of your life with murder hanging over your soul.”
“I’m not worried about my soul, and I’m not spending a minute in jail. There’s nothing linking those mortgages back to me, just to Bruce, and now to you. To recover from the shock of burying my lover and my best friend, I’ll take a much–deserved vacation in Belize. I won’t come back.”
She tasted a bead of sweat that rolled off her upper lip. Finn!
“There’s just one thing I haven’t quite figured.” He stopped pacing at the end of the bed. “How did you get out of the van in the city? I was sure the door was locked.”
Where the hell was that busybody elf! Her breathing began to trip up in her throat. “This is crazy, Matthew.”
“How did you get out of the van?”
“It wasn’t locked, damn you! You made a mistake! And you’ll make more, and they’ll catch you, and you’ll spend your whole pathetic life in prison.”
The conversation had been feeling too real. Matthew and Beth talking over the day. Meeting for pad thai lunch. Making decisions. Driving to Ashbury where Beth had taped colour swatches up on her wall for the house in Belize. She’d said, “Do you like ‘gentle tide’ better or ‘shadow dream?’” And he’d said, “I don’t like either. What happened to the ‘Mojave?’” But ‘Mojave’ was too dark for the kitchen. Why couldn’t he see that? Mahogany on the cupboards, on the floor, that was enough already. And his insisting that a dark colour was right for the kitchen had really bugged her because who spent more time in the kitchen? She did. She knew kitchens. He didn’t like to cook. He liked to control everything and veto her colour swatches. That’s what he was good at. And one other thing — letting his friend die of anaphylaxis. That he excelled at! Beth felt hysteria percolate under her skin as big bubbles of it rose in her chest.
She swallowed hard. Calm down. She forced it. She willed it. She breathed it. And as she did, the feeling of Calum washed through her; overwhelmed her for a moment, like he’d gotten inside her somehow, was here to comfort her.
But not here enough.
Finn will swoosh me out of here, soon. He had saved her from Matthew before. The elf would send her back to Calum, and everything would be as it was supposed to be, and she’d never leave Kansas again.
“The only mistake I made was to believe in you, Beth.” Matthew was still talking. “It’s ironic, you know. If you were a virgin, the police might not think you the kind of girl that ties up her boyfriend for kicks.”
Beth had only half a mind for that irony. Her eyes were riveted on Matthew as he slipped the pillow out from under Bruce’s head and circled the bed to her side.
“You need an incentive to give up the flash drive. It’ll be less gruesome for both of us, if you don’t fight this.” His tone was lecturing and controlled and emotionless.
“Matthew, stop!” A douse of adrenaline raced through her blood as she drew back her legs preparing for a sharp kick. He dodged her feet and came at her with the pillow gripped in his two hands. Drawing tight to the headboard, she thrashed against the bindings while every instinct to lunge, claw, and attack howled through her veins.
“This is how you will die if you don’t give up the drive.” He straddled her, dropping his full weight on her hips. The pillow descended.
This was not happening, not to her, not now.
She arched her body, bucked up against him and then slammed into his back with her knees. She heard his teeth snap together as he took the beating. One side of the pillow slipped from his grip.
This was not her end. She would not die! Knocking him toward her with her knees, she reared back and head–butted his nose with a violent, focused energy. An explosion of pain sliced through her forehead as he howled.
Blood spewed from Matthew’s nose.
Oh no! Her vision doubled. A sickening dizziness swirled through her head from ear to ear. Was she going to pass out? Head–butters never seemed to suffer injury on television. Slamming her eyes shut, she tried desperately to remain conscious.
Chapter 27
Breaking the Bonds
The crushing weight pinning Beth’s hips to the bed vanished. Had she lost consciousness? Eyes closed, she heard pounding, thudding, and grunting. The blinding pain in her head began to subside enough to feel the strain of that shoulder muscle she’d pulled.
Silence drew out long enough for her to hear her own heart pounding in her temples.
She opened her eyes, and then he was beside her.
Calum. Her enraged heart raced wildly to catch up. Breathing robbed her of everything but a sudden onslaught of tears. She swallowed hard and blinked the stream away to see his face clearly. Her lips rose in a dopey smile. “What took you so long?”
“Bethia, God, Bethia.” He said this while kissing her hair, her forehead, her lips. When he pulled back, his eyes glistened with a maelstrom of worry and relief. “It’s over. He won’t be hurting you again.”
“H-He’s dead?” She finally managed a long inhale as her heart slowed to a trot. Matthew, the man she’d once loved, had tried to kill her. The shock of it ran like an electric jolt over her bones as she remembered who lay stiffly beside her on the bed. She couldn’t help but glance at Bruce.
Calum caught her gaze. He sprang from the bed, all power and grace, rummaged through the kitchen drawers for a knife and sliced through the duct tape restraining Bruce’s body. A scowl darkened his gorgeous face as he dumped the body on the floor out of her eyesight.
“A flash drive that will incriminate Matthew was hidden with the money in the backpack. I gave that money to one of the Meals on the Move clients, Mrs. Miller’s granddaughter. Calum, we need to get it back.”
“Oh? Well, lass, flash drives are beyond my understanding, but I will use it to be sure your name is clear.”
“Yes, that’s the idea.” Using her heels to push herself up to a sitting position, Beth waited for him to release her. He moved to the end of the bed, set the knife on the dinette table, and remained there while he surveyed the room.
“Calum, cut this tape off me. I want to get out of here.”
His head turned as his shoulders dropped, his expression grim. She couldn’t imagine what he was thinking. “I can’t, Beth.”
She didn’t know what alarmed her more — his refusal or the troubled expression on his face. “I’ll not take any chances now. You must appear to be my victim.”
Her brain must be suffering oxygen depletion. Why was he not taking her into his arms and ending this nightmare? “And why’s that, Calum?”
He retreated a step and gripped the back of a chrome chair as if he needed to grasp something other than her. His knuckles turned white. “I will confess to taking you from your home in Ashbury because I was bent on blackmail. ‘Twill be clear that I held you against your will, keeping you from the police, since there’s no reasonable explanation for why you ran to Quebec. I killed Matthew, Beth. With him and Bruce dead, the police must harbour no doubts as to your innocence.”
Panic churned inside her stomach. His plan was impossible. Did he truly think she would rather he sacrifice himself to save her? “So you spend your life in prison? I don’t think so, Calum. That is so not okay with me. You may think it self–sacrificing, but it’s not. What you are suggesting is selfish.” At least that’s how it felt to her. Did it not hurt worse to watch a loved one suffer? “Cut this tape off me, and we’ll talk about this rationally.”
His gaze travelled over her face, over her body as if forcing each feature into his memory. “There’s nothing further to discuss, lass. It’s been decided.”
The finality in his tone angered her. She ground her teeth and resisted the urge to snap at him — no easy feat — but a shouting match was the last thing she wanted. He tended to snap back. One of them needed to be reasonable. “You can’t make a decision that affects both our lives and expect me to submit like your subservient subject. We will come up with a solution that appeases the police and keeps you out of jail, like perhaps — the truth — minus Finn and your role as spirit guide. If you have ever loved me, Calum, you will listen to me now and treat me like a partner.”
Releasing the chair, he crossed the room to sit beside her on the bed. Her hands should be roaming across the smooth ridges of his muscle–ripped shoulders, slipping through the silky strands of his crème–caramel hair, gliding across the hard planes of his old–world chest. Instead, her hands were going numb.
“It was not my intention to sound like your lord and master,” he said. “If we had more time, I swear I’d break the habit. There may be other ways to end this, but it’s out of my hands now.”
What did he mean by that?
“Beth, you need never question my love. You are the breath that gives me life.”
Before she could respond his lips fell on hers. His light beard rasped her face as her mouth immediately accepted his hot, wet tongue. It was no gentle, unhurried kiss, but one of hunger and passion and despairing emotion that terrified her.
She got lost in it for only a dozen or so heartbeats. This matter was not nearly settled. “Listen. Listen to me, Calum.” Her plea got garbled against his mouth until he pulled back. “If you think to kiss me goodbye, you’d better think again because losing you is not an option.”
He brushed his lips over hers once again, and then he sat up rigid as a warrior on guard. “No, it’s not optional. It never was. My leaving was always a fact. I was allowed this human body for as long as it took to see you safe, Beth. My time here with you is over.”
Something shattered inside her chest. Her heart? She felt the moment freeze around her, between them, the horror hanging in the room ready to flatten her lungs and throw her entire life into agony. “No.” The simple denial was all she could force up. A new surge of tears blinded her. She let them burn in her eyes before blinking them away. A salty stream fell over her lips as they quivered like a child’s. “You wouldn’t do that to me, Calum, n
ot to us.”
His eyes, like the bluest mood, had not left hers. The pain exposed there brought a whimper to her lips — too much truth to look at.
“Beth, please look at me.”
She kept her eyes fixed on the deer antlers nailed to the wall. If she didn’t find a way to stop her heart from breaking, she’d die right then.
He took her by the shoulders. “It’s not over between us. Our time apart will be a short journey until we’re together again. I’ll always be with you — ”
“That is such bullshit!” Anger felt better, like a lid she could shut on her pain to keep it bottled so she couldn’t feel it. “Don’t say you’ll be there for me like a ghost in my dreams as if that’s sufficient. I’m a person! I need a man to grow old with, not a spirit. How could you pursue me until I fell hopelessly in love with you when all along you knew you were leaving? You seduced me. You used me. How could you do it? You lying, heart–crushing, arrogant, barbaric throwback of a man!” The words coagulated in her throat, choked on her sobs.
He flinched. Leaning forward, he wiped the streaks from her cheeks with his thumbs and hung his head. “I can’t deny it. I couldn’t stop myself from making you mine. I’ve always loved you fiercely, Bethia, perhaps too much so.”
How gullible did he think she was? She wanted the torment to stop. She wanted to hate him. “What you did was not nearly as innocent as that, you bloody man. From the very beginning, this was about trust. You came here because you are too afraid to trust. Since you can’t trust me to make my own decisions, you interfere and you control and you call it protection. Well, guess what, Bucko? I don’t need you, and I don’t need you to come to my rescue again. Don’t whisper advice in my ear. Don’t wait for me in your afterworld because I won’t come looking for you. I can’t do this. I can’t ever see you again.” It killed her to say it, but she had to hope she would heal. The only possible way to stop her anguish was to strike him from her life.
