by LENA DIAZ,
“What? Why?”
“Because if Amy is our enemy, instead of an ally, and she sneaks out of the library to come after us, I don’t want her to know where to search. There was something...creepy...about the way she looked at you when you talked to her. For a moment, it almost looked like she...hated you. I hurried over as soon as she turned around.”
Amber’s eyes widened. “I thought the same thing. Only I noticed her reflection in the window, that she seemed...different, harder, angry. But that doesn’t make sense. And why would she hate me? I only just met her.”
“I don’t know, but since we both got the same vibes, I say we be careful not to turn our backs on her.”
“Good grief, is everyone after us now? Do we have to be afraid of all of them?”
“I’d rather be alert and stay alive than take any chances. Come on. Let’s get through this wing as fast as we can. I have a feeling we won’t be any more successful than we were on the other side.”
Sure enough, their search yielded nothing new. No clues. No more passageway doors that they could find or trap doors in the floors. And no sign of Garreth, Mitchell or Derek.
“After the next check-in,” Amber said, “I think we should search the only two rooms we haven’t been in yet. They’re both locked, but the killer may have been able to get inside through the passageways and panels.”
“You’re talking about your grandfather’s bedroom, which has been sealed for years, and my old bedroom—where Mallory was...killed.”
She nodded. “I don’t like the idea of going in either room. And I know we wanted to keep the crime scene pristine for the police. But we’re running out of places to search.”
He glanced down the dimly lit hallway toward the closed and locked door where Mallory’s body had been found, not looking any more excited about the prospect of going inside than she was.
“How much time do we have?” Amber asked. “We searched faster this time, now that we’re in a routine.”
He checked his watch. “You’re right. We have fifteen more minutes.”
“Do you still have the keys?”
He patted his pants pocket. “Okay. Let’s do this.”
She followed him to his old bedroom door and they both pressed their ears against the wood, listening for any sounds from within.
Dex very carefully and quietly put the key into the lock and slowly turned it. As soon as the lock clicked, he shoved the door open and ran inside, sweeping his gun out in front of him.
Amber ran in after him, holding her knife out. When she saw what was on the bed, she pressed her hand to her throat. “Oh, no.”
Dex was already shoving his gun into his waistband and hurrying to the bed. He bent over Garreth and pressed his fingers against the side of his neck, checking for a pulse.
Amber stopped beside him. “Is he...” She couldn’t bring herself to say it. There was blood all over his shirt and his face was incredibly pale.
“No, he’s not dead,” Dex said. “But his pulse is very weak.” He leaned closer. “Garreth, can you hear me? It’s Dex.”
Garreth moaned, his eyelids fluttering then opening. “Dex?” His voice came out a bare whisper of sound.
“Where are you hurt?” Dex asked, as he opened Garreth’s suit jacket. “Oh, no.”
“He’s been stabbed,” Amber said. “Twice, that I can see. We’ve got to stop the bleeding.” She ran into the adjoining bathroom and came back with some towels. Dex was pressing his hands against both wounds. Garreth writhed beneath him, alternately cursing and begging him to stop hurting him.
“I’m sorry,” Dex gritted out. “I have to keep the pressure, Garreth.”
“I don’t think he can hear you.” Amber felt his forehead. “He’s hot, but I don’t know if it’s from the blood loss or if he’s already got an infection.”
“You can help him, though. You helped me.”
She gently pushed his hands away and laid the towels on top of Garreth’s abdomen, then stepped back for Dex to press down again. Garreth wasn’t struggling anymore. He’d passed out from the pain.
“Amber?” Dex’s tortured voice called to her. “Please. You have to help him. I don’t know what to do, but you do.”
She bit her bottom lip. “You don’t understand. I don’t...do that anymore.”
“Amber, you’re not responsible for your grandfather’s death, if that’s what this is about. I know you tried to save him with your tonic, but you couldn’t save him. It was the cancer that took his life. You did everything you could. It wasn’t your fault.”
She clenched her hands at her sides. “I know. Logically, I know that. But in my heart, I can’t help wonder if there was something else that I could have done.”
He bent down, capturing her gaze. “You can do this. I know you can. What do you need? Tell me. How do we stop the bleeding? How do we bring his fever down? There have to be medicines around here for that, right? A needle? Thread?”
She could do this. She could do this. “Yes, yes, there should be headache powders in my grandfather’s bathroom.” She swallowed hard at the idea of going in there without Dex. Not because she was scared, but because facing the ghosts of her past would be so much easier with him there to support her. “And I’ve got needle and thread in my bedroom.”
“Take the gun with you. And the keys, so you can get into your grandfather’s room.” He put his hand on hers. “Be careful. If the crime scene seal from two years ago is broken, don’t go in. And even if it isn’t, be extremely vigilant.” He frowned. “It could be dangerous. I should go. You should stay here.”
“No. Stay with your friend. I’ve got this.”
She grabbed his gun and ran before he could stop her.
* * *
DEX SWORE, REGRETTING that he’d let her go. But he couldn’t do anything about that right now. He’d just have to hope she was okay, as much as it killed him not to chase after her.
He lifted the towel, cursing again when he saw how much blood had saturated it. He tossed it to the floor and grabbed the second towel that Amber had left with him. One of the wounds seemed to be clotting, but the deeper wound wouldn’t quit seeping. And Garreth couldn’t afford to lose much more blood.
He looked up at the door. Amber had locked it on her way out. He hadn’t meant for her to do that, but he understood why she had—to protect him and Garreth if the killer came back. Everything she did seemed to center around others—keeping them safe, nursing them back to health, protecting them in every way possible. She never put herself first, no matter what. It was the main quality, that and her never-ending courage, that astounded him. He was used to working with people who always put themselves first, who put making a dollar above everything else, including relationships and families. And since almost dying in the plane crash, and then realizing that one of the people he’d trusted every day at his company was also trying to kill him, he’d had to reevaluate his own life and how he treated others.
And he didn’t like what he saw.
He’d known Garreth, Derek and Mitchell for years. And yet, faced with the knowledge that one of them was a killer, he had no real gut feeling for which one it might be. How could he work with them, even double-date with them in the case of Derek, go to football games and supposed team-building events, and never really, truly know them? The longer this debacle went on the more he despised himself and the more he realized that Amber was a better person than he could ever be. She deserved so much more than she had, and he vowed if they survived he would do everything he could to make sure that she never wanted for anything ever again.
Garreth groaned, drawing Dex’s attention.
“Dex?” he whispered, sounding groggy. For the first time since they’d gotten there, Garreth’s eyes were clear and focused. “What happened?”
Dex laughed
with relief. “Hey, man. You tell me. You’ve got a pair of nasty cuts on your belly.”
Garreth winced. “Hurts like hell. Did I get shot?”
“Stabbed. You don’t remember?”
He shook his head. “Last I remember we were putting that freezer on top of the island in the kitchen.”
Dex frowned. “You must have gotten conked on the head.” He chanced lifting one hand off the towel and felt along the back of his friend’s head. “Yeah, you’ve got a huge goose egg back there, but it’s not bleeding. Not anymore at least.” He put both hands on the towel and kept up the pressure even though his arms were starting to ache.
Garreth looked around. “Where are we?”
“My bedroom. Or what was my bedroom, until Mallory went in there and...” He shook his head. “This was where we found her earlier. Amber and I searched this wing for you and the others and decided to look in here. Glad we did.”
“The others?”
He winced. “Derek and Mitchell are missing. I have to assume one of them killed Mallory. I just don’t know which one.”
Garreth closed his eyes. “You thought I might be the killer, didn’t you?”
“Sadly, yes. I have to admit I don’t really know you or Derek or Mitchell like I thought I did. Hell, I don’t even know if you have a girlfriend.”
A small smile played on Garreth’s lips. “Yeah. Her name is Veronica Walker. One of the many women you’ve dumped on your way to someone else. We’re madly in love and plotting our revenge against you for how you treated her.”
“Don’t make me press harder,” Dex joked. “I’m not proud of my past and am only now beginning to realize what a jerk I’ve been.”
Garreth laughed, then groaned. “Damn, that hurts. And I was kidding. No girlfriend. No time. My boss is a real pain in the ass, and the belly, apparently.”
“Your pain-in-the-ass boss is going to give you a month off with pay if you promise not to die on him.”
“Careful what you promise. I might take you up on that.”
“I’m counting on it.” He looked toward the door. “Where the hell is Amber?”
“Right here, right here.” Her voice sounded from behind him. “You were so busy talking to Garreth that you didn’t notice when I came into the room.”
“Well, that’s a scary thought.”
She shrugged. “No harm.” She smiled down at the bed. “Nice to see you awake, Mr. Jackson. Let’s see about stitching you up and getting that fever down, okay?”
“If it will make this jerk stop pressing on my stomach, I’m up for anything.”
Garreth held still like a trouper for Amber to stitch him up, in spite of not having anything more powerful than the headache powder to dull the pain. It was when she and Dex tried to roll him over to check for other injuries that he passed out again.
“What’s wrong with him?” Dex asked, worried that they’d hurt him by rolling him over.
Amber finished feeling along his back and motioned for Dex to lay him down before replying. “His belly isn’t distended and I don’t see any more injuries. I think he’s just exhausted and passed out from that and the pain of being moved. I’m certainly no doctor but I don’t think he has any internal bleeding. I think your friend’s going to be fine.”
“You should have let him bleed to death,” a familiar masculine voice called out from the doorway.
Dex clawed for his gun.
“Draw on me and I’ll shoot both of you.”
Dex forced his hand to relax and stared in disbelief at the man he’d trusted and worked with for years. “What’s going on, Mitchell?” He positioned himself in front of Amber, hoping to shield her.
“Oh, how sweet. You are a couple, aren’t you? That was pretty obvious from the get-go. Well, now it’s my turn to answer the question you asked our dear friend Garreth there. I do have a girlfriend. Or I did, until you stole her from me and then cast her aside like garbage, like you do all your women.” His hand tightened on the pistol he was pointing at Dex. “And her name really was Veronica Walker.”
Dex blinked in surprise. “I knew Derek dated Ronnie a while back. But I never knew that you—”
“Shut up. I don’t want to hear it.”
“But this doesn’t make sense. Why are you doing this?”
Mitchell raised the gun higher, squarely pointing it at Dex’s chest. “I don’t want to hear anything else come out of your mouth except ‘yes, sir.’ Understood?”
Dex flexed his fingers, dearly wishing he could draw his gun. “Yes, sir,” he gritted out.
“Toss the gun on the bed. Oh, and Miss Callahan, toss your knife on the bed, too. Quickly. We don’t have much time.”
Not seeing a way out without risking getting Amber shot, Dex laid his gun on the bed while Amber discarded her knife.
“Why don’t we have much time?” Dex asked.
“Well, because of the floodwaters, of course. The rain may have stopped, but the water’s still rising as the runoff from higher ground drains down onto this property. I should know. I’ve spent a lot of time outside since we got here. In fact, I’d say I know this property just about as well as Miss Callahan now. Maybe better.”
“And why do we care about the rising floodwaters?” Dex pressed.
“Oh, I didn’t tell you yet? Because if you don’t get to Derek soon, he’ll drown, of course. The water will be going over his head. He’s tied to the maintenance shed. If you hurry, you just might be able to save him. Of course, the question is, will I shoot you before you do, or after?” He shrugged. “Who knows?” He stepped away from the door and motioned with his gun. “Get moving.”
Derek. How could Dex have ever doubted his friend? And now both Derek and Amber were in danger because of his clouded judgment.
He pulled Amber with him toward the door, keeping himself between her and Mitchell’s gun.
Chapter Sixteen
Amber hesitated halfway down the staircase with Dex at her side and Mitchell a few steps behind him. Her toes curled inside her sneakers. Mitchell had been right. The water was still rising even though the rain had stopped and there was no more lightning or thunder. She didn’t know how many stairs were underneath the water, but the brackish mess was halfway up the front door. What worried her more than the water was what was under that water. Could a gator have worked its way through one of the windows or the back door?
“Move,” Mitchell ordered, from behind her and Dex. “Head to the kitchen and the back porch.”
She exchanged a glance with Dex. His brow was furrowed with concern and he gave her a barely perceptible nod, as if to reassure her. She nodded to let him know she was okay. But she really wished she had her knife right now. Or the Colt .45 that they’d been forced to leave back with Garreth. Thank God, she’d finished sewing up his wounds before Mitchell got to them. At least Garreth would have a chance now.
But what about Derek? Was he even still alive? And why was Mitchell doing this? She couldn’t imagine that Dex would have treated Veronica so poorly that Mitchell felt bound by some kind of old-fashioned honor code to defend her this way. And even if he did, why had he killed Mallory? She desperately wished she could talk to Dex, that they could try to figure this out together. But she was afraid to do more than breathe after the way Mitchell had pointed his gun at Dex back in the bedroom and ordered him not to say anything.
She held the banister and plopped her foot down to the next stair, splashing into the water. Dex stepped into the water with her, matching her step for step. He was obviously doing everything he could to stay glued to her side, to protect her if he could. But nothing could protect either of them if Mitchell decided to pull the trigger or they stepped on a water moccasin.
Another step, the carpet runner squishing beneath her feet. Another, another. Soon the water w
as up to her chest, but thankfully her feet were on the floor now. It wouldn’t get any deeper. The water was only up to Dex’s hips. He reached for her hand and held it tightly as they waded forward.
“Watch out for snakes,” she whispered, hoping Mitchell wouldn’t hear her and retaliate for her talking. “And gators.”
He cursed and watched the water around them with renewed interest.
Mitchell splashed down into the water behind them, not close enough for her or Dex to try to overpower him but not far enough away that he couldn’t still shoot them or give them the opportunity to dodge around a corner and hide.
Amber plowed forward through the maze of rooms, through the great room and into the kitchen. She was amazed that the electricity was still on in this part of the house. She’d have expected the water to short-circuit the lights. The kitchen was as bright as ever but looked utterly bizarre with the deep freeze up on the island, water lapping at its base. The familiar hum had her skin crawling at the knowledge that a body was inside that freezer.
Dex squeezed her hand, as if to lend her strength and keep her calm. She glanced up at him as they continued toward the back door where Mitchell had told them to go.
“If there’s any way for me to jump him, I will,” he whispered. “And you need to run back in and get to Buddy, get the guns and hide somewhere.”
“I’m not leaving you,” she muttered.
His jaw tightened but he didn’t say anything else because Mitchell splashed up behind them.
“Onto the porch,” he ordered.
Dex wrestled the door open against the current and stepped out onto the porch. Or what was left of it. Amber couldn’t believe the destruction she was seeing as she joined him. They both held on to the posts where the railings were attached, or had been. She moved her foot forward and encountered nothing where she knew a railing should be. Behind the house, trees were down, their branches rising out of the water like ghostly fingers ready to snare an unsuspecting person in their grasp.
“Dex,” a voice called out. “Dex!”
