He glided around the table, adjusting silverware and folding napkins just so. “There we are. Almost ready.”
With a girlish giggle, he faced me. “When he came up in a search of leukemia victims—his illness is why they took pity on him and released him early from prison—I knew he was the one! An ideal candidate to fit into this lovely community and the Project Hope trials. Oh, so perfect.” He put both hands to his cheeks as if he were so tickled pink he could barely stand it. It made him look like Mrs. Doubtfire. “With my family cabin in these woods, it was natural for me to be seen in the vicinity. They love me in Speculator. I’m sort of a local hero. So I had no worries about being seen at all.” He winked.
I thought I’d throw up.
As if changing personas, he yanked a silky negligee and scarlet shoes from the bag and tossed them toward me. “Put these on.”
I caught them automatically, frowning. “Why? And what if they don’t fit?”
“Just do it.” His voice had changed from a dreamy, self-satisfied tone to one of steel. “Now.”
I unzipped my parka, exchanging glances with Ginny. The guy was even sicker than I thought. “You bought this stuff for Aria? That’s a little…weird. She’s your daughter.”
He pouted. “Well, no. I thought the whore could wear them. But you’re prettier. So I changed my mind.” With a flourish, he took a bottle of wine from the fridge. “Like you women,” he said, “I reserve the right to change my mind whenever it suits me.”
Slowly, I shrugged out of my coat. “So, you got Valentino to kill for you? How?”
Pride stamped his features. “It was easy. I visited him in the hospital when I went on my rounds of do-good tours. We had several lovely chats about inner demons. And I mentioned a few little teenage girls I’d seen around town lately who looked ripe for the plucking.” He smiled as if he were discussing the price of gas. “He didn’t take much convincing. A safe place for him to stay. A cabin by the river to do his deeds. Plenty of time to enjoy each victim. A little money.” He rummaged in a kitchen drawer.
He twisted the corkscrew in the wine bottle. “Put those on and come sit at the table.”
He seemed flush with victory. I knew he was spilling the story to us without worry, because he intended to kill us after our “last supper.”
The knife was still in my parka pocket. I set the coat carefully on the side of the couch where I could reach it when the time came, and quickly pulled on the negligee over my tee shirt and jeans. I wriggled out of the jeans and kept the tee on. Maybe he wouldn’t notice.
He frowned at me. “That’s not very sexy.”
Although I was shaking, I tried not to show my fear. “I’ll be too cold if I take off my shirt.”
“Do it.” He stared at me.
“Okay, okay.” I managed to slide one arm out of my shirt and then the other, without taking off the ridiculous silky thing.
He stared at me while I did it. “Prettier. But take off the bra, too.”
I huffed, but when his eyes iced over I hurriedly did as he said.
Where the hell are the police?
I was seriously starting to wonder about Mickey. Had he been an accomplice? Did he really call them? Did he really bring poor Aria to safety? Doubt flooded my mind.
And what about Annie? Wouldn’t she have made it to the road by now? Wouldn’t she have called the cops?
He eyed me with a salacious grin. “Come here.”
I hesitantly stepped toward him.
He fingered the silky fabric, ran his fingers over my breasts as if he fondled them every night, and smiled. “Pretty.”
I shuddered inside, but didn’t pull back. I needed him to of think of me as a mouse, a timid little thing who would obey his every command. A mouse who wouldn’t think of jabbing him with a knife.
With exaggerated care, he pulled back a kitchen chair. “Please. Sit. You’re our guest tonight.” As if a brilliant idea just hit him, he tilted his head. “No. You’re my date! And the whore is a poor slave girl. She’ll serve us, darling.”
Still on the couch, massaging her broken leg, Ginny rolled her eyes and hissed. “Now you know why I didn’t tell him about Aria when she was born. He’s freaking nuts. I just wished I’d seen that side of him before I let him screw me.”
In three strides he was at her side. With a vicious snap, he backhanded her, knocking her off the couch. “You’ve forfeited your dinner, whore.”
Crying now, Ginny tucked her head to her chest. “I’m sorry. Please. Just let us go. We won’t tell anyone about you.”
His evil smile was back, pulled taut over even white teeth. “No. You won’t tell anyone. You won’t have a chance. Do you think I’m that stupid?”
I sat and unfolded the napkin on my lap, trying to divert his attention from Ginny. “Spencer. I’m starving. Is it time to eat?”
His demeanor shifted. Again. Now he played the politician, ready to enjoy a state dinner beside men of great consequence. “Yes, my dear. Dinner is served. Please, go ahead and start.”
Chapter 44
I played with the cold cod on my plate. After forcing a few bites down, I asked to carry Ginny’s meal to her. “You said it’s our last supper. Seems like she deserves to eat it, right?”
The Congressman patted his mouth with a napkin. “I guess. Yes, give the whore her dinner. It is her last meal, after all.” He took another swig of wine. He’d refilled his glass three times now, and I sensed a loss of balance, a blurring of his motions. The bottle was almost empty, and he looked at it as if surprised. His words slurred ever so slightly. He missed when picking up his fork and had to deliberately reach for it to get it in his fingers. A shine gleamed in his eyes that hadn’t been there before.
And since the cops had obviously decided to ignore us, I quickly came to the realization that getting out of this hellhole was going to be up to me.
I started to clear the table. “I’ll do the dishes, if you want.”
He looked at me as if surprised to see me there. “What?” With a shake of his head, he took one more bite of rice and pushed his plate back. “Yeah. Okay.”
I figured he’d have to visit the bathroom soon and the more relaxed he felt with us, the better. He might leave us alone for a minute so I could prepare my attack. I couldn’t release the screaming, thrashing, pissed off woman who was inside this silky red thing.
Not yet anyway.
When would he need to pee? The guy was a camel. I would have gone to the bathroom twice during the downing of the wine bottle. He’d also drunk two glasses of water.
I hummed, quickly clearing the dishes. I ran the water for a while, thinking it would make him have to go.
It didn’t. I turned if off and headed back to the living room. When I took Ginny’s plate, I locked eyes with her. At first she’d seemed incredulous, even angry. For a minute I thought she’d punch me, or try to scratch my eyes out, because her venomous glare was so powerful. What did she think? That I’d switched sides and now was in love with the psycho?
I widened my eyes and glanced in his direction, trying to let her know through ESP that it was all for show. I wasn’t sure if she got it, but she finally settled into her spot on the couch and kept quiet after that.
When I reached the counter, I turned the water back on, filling the sink with suds.
What I didn’t expect was the Congressman to sidle up behind me, snake his arms around my waist, and kiss my ear. One hand reached down and squeezed my bottom, then reached between my legs and stroked me.
My insides twisted at his touch and I wanted to grab a steak knife and slash him. I silently groaned, trying not to pull away. I needed to pick the exact right time to assure my success.
My success in the pursuit of killing another man.
I shuddered inside, trying to distance myself from the groping hands and disgusting tongue that licked down my face and neck.
Instead, I turned toward him, holding my soapy hands in the air. “I’m all wet,” I lau
ghed. “And I need to use the facilities.”
He leaned forward and kissed me. “No. You can’t leave yet.”
I thought I’d throw up, but I giggled like a moron, hoping he’d think I was really into him. “You are quite the devil, aren’t you, Spencer?”
With a start, he pushed back from me, his eyes glittering with maniacal fire. “Wait a minute. You’re a whore, too, aren’t you?” He snatched at his hair with both hands, pulling it hard. “You’re all whores,” he screamed, turning in fast circles and closing his eyes.
I’d gone too far. Maybe I had to pretend to be a recalcitrant lover, and not so willing. God, this whole let’s-pretend-balance-beam was starting to make me dizzy.
When he stopped and straightened, I pretended nothing had happened. “Don’t think you’ll get your way with me, mister.” I winked at him. “I’m not that easy.”
His hair stuck straight out after he’d messed with it. Hunched over with his brows furrowed and his eyes reddened, he wrapped his arms around his chest and shouted at the ceiling. “I can’t do this anymore.”
I quietly slid into my parka, suddenly feeling so cold I could barely stand it. “Sorry. I’m freezing.” I touched his arm. “Listen. It’ll be okay. We can fix this. All of it.”
He plopped onto the sofa beside Ginny. “I didn’t mean to get you pregnant.”
I could see the fire starting to burn in her eyes, but behind his back I used hand signals to calm her down. She nodded and turned away. “I know. It’s…it’s not your fault the condom broke.”
Smiling now, I came around the side of the couch. “There’s no reason why you can’t just slip out of town and go back to your family, Spencer.” I hoped mentioning his family would bring him back to reality.
Instead, it reminded him why he wanted us dead.
Bad move on my part.
“No!” He jumped up, wiped tears from his eyes, and grabbed the rifle. Swinging it wide, he started to pace back and forth. “You both know too much. You’ve gotta die.”
I reached into my pocket and closed my fingers around the handle of the knife. I generally didn’t like knives, but in this case the cold hilt felt reassuring.
“Outside, both of you.” He waved toward the door.
I pointed to my bare legs and feet. “Can I please get changed first?”
He rolled his eyes and sighed as if I’d asked for a trip to the moon. Grunting, he motioned toward my boots. “Hurry up.”
In seconds, I stumbled into my jeans, socks, boots, and sweater, putting them on over the silky thing he’d made me wear. “Ginny’s going to need help,” I said. “She can’t walk by herself.”
Angrier now, he grabbed his own coat from the rack and shot me a foul glance. “I know. You can help her.” As if speaking to himself, he turned toward the mantle over the fireplace, muttering a string of words I could barely hear. I made out the phrases “I can’t shoot them in here,” and “this is Grandpa’s cabin.”
I tried to ignore the “shoot them” part of his comment. With a flourish, I grabbed the walking stick we’d left by the back door earlier and brought it toward Ginny, extending the heavy knob toward her. “Here you go. Lean on this.”
Congressman Spencer Troy turned for a split second to open the front door, and in that God-given moment I realized it was the best chance I’d have. Maybe my last chance. With all my might, I swung the walking stick toward the side of his head. It slammed against his skull, making a satisfying, dull crack.
Troy staggered and dropped the rifle. He scrambled down on his knees, grabbing for the gun again. He found it, swinging the muzzle into my face. He rose slowly, taking three steps toward me. “Stupid bitch.”
All pretense of civility vanished. No more mister nice guy.
I fell back toward the sofa and almost toppled over it. Ginny, who balanced on one leg, nearly went with me but caught herself on the end table and managed to stay upright.
“You’ll never get away with this,” I screamed, righting myself and jumping to my feet. Fear crept into my throat and I started to panic. I couldn’t pretend to be this bastard’s patsy for another minute. I dredged up my last line of defense and hoped it would work. “The police know about you. Annie and Aria will have told. They’re both safe now, they’re with the cops. And the authorities are on their way to save us and to arrest you. So no matter what you do to us, it won’t matter. You’re screwed, Congressman.” I practically spat the words. “Kill us or spare us, you are royally screwed.”
Ginny looked at me with surprise, then actually smiled. She mouthed the word, nice.
“No!” He roared toward me, swinging his rifle at my head.
I ducked.
Ginny stuck out her bad leg and tripped him. She screamed with agony when he fell on her, but she’d stopped his mad rush toward me.
With inhuman strength, he clamped one hand around my ankle and dragged me down to the floor, squirming toward me. He pummeled the side of my face with his fists.
I’d never been in a fight before, and couldn’t believe how much his blows hurt. I screamed. I yelled. I twisted away from him. My brain felt jostled, my face burned. I screamed again.
“Shut up!” Opening his hands now, he drew me back toward him and slapped my face over and over again.
I came alive, furious. I thought of Copper. Of Becky. Of all the girls he killed so he wouldn't lose the goddamned nomination.
Then I thought of all the politicians I hated.
My legs and arms flailed at him. I scratched his face. I jabbed him under the jaw with my elbow. I yelled so loud it even scared me. I tried to knee him in the crotch, but he pulled back just in time.
“Whore!” he screamed. He clutched my hair and slammed my head against the floorboards.
I saw stars. The world blurred.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ginny lift the table lamp.
“You’ve got the wrong whore, Spencer.” She swung it toward him.
He turned just before it connected. Blood streamed from his forehead, blinding him. He rubbed at his face with scrabbling hands, screeching like a wounded animal.
Which he was, I guess, when you think about it.
Hurrying, I reached for my knife at the same time Ginny crawled toward and grasped the rifle.
I raised the knife high over the freak’s back, ready to strike.
Ginny smiled, but her eyes were cold. “Marcella, stop. He’s mine.” Her face tightened and I saw her finger twitch on the trigger. “Hold still, Spencer. I don’t want to miss.”
Chapter 45
Ginny had aimed the rifle at his face, but at the last minute she lowered it to his leg.
The bullet ripped through him, causing a ragged wound that spattered blood everywhere and soon streamed into a growing red puddle. He moaned and clutched his thigh, keening in a strange and childish warble. “You shot me. My God, Virginia, you shot me.”
Ginny kept the gun on him, then tossed a towel to the Congressman to wrap around his wound. “Shut up. Tie this around it.” She shoved the gun against his shoulder. “Much as I want you dead, you sick son of a bitch, I want your bone marrow more.”
I glanced sideways at her, half-surprised she hadn’t killed him and harvested a few limbs to bring the bone marrow in by herself. Frankly, I wouldn’t have blamed her.
I punched 911 on my cell, but found the battery was dead. “Oh, no,” I said, feeling as if I couldn’t take any more. Not one more stupid thing that went wrong. I didn’t know what I’d do, but I didn’t feel like I could stand it.
Overhead, we heard the welcome sound of helicopters. I ran outside, waving my arms around to attract them. Within ten minutes, Detective Gordon McCann stood by my side, and the FBI and local officials swarmed the property, barking questions at us, working on Spencer Troy, and doing what they did best to control the scene. Troy was swiftly airlifted to the nearest ER. Nobody knew if he’d make it.
McCann led me out onto the porch, his arm around my shoulders. The ai
r felt milder, as if spring was really trying to break through. I felt a shudder run through me, and my knees weakened.
“Marcella. What the hell are you doing here? A young man called and reported you followed Aria up the hill, then we lost all contact and didn’t know what happened.”
I quickly explained, watching his eyes bulge when I told him about freeing Annie and making a sled out of the cot. With hands on my hips, I stood back and frowned. “And where the hell were you? It’s been almost two hours since we called.”
“It was a nightmare.” He rolled his eyes and spread his hands wide. “A tractor-trailer overturned on Route 30 near Wells, blocking all southern access. And there was an avalanche—a freakin’ avalanche—just south of Speculator, toppled right down over Route 30, completely blocking passage. All that snow–it was just too much. We would’ve been here in ten minutes under normal circumstances.” He shook his head. “I know. Unbelievable, huh?”
“An avalanche?” I repeated.
“Yup.” He frowned and checked his cell. “They’re almost here. Good. Our choices were to send snowmobiles around by the wood trails, or wait for the ‘copters to arrive from Gloversville. We decided to do both.”
In the distance, the roar of approaching snowmobiles filled the air, growing louder. “Ah, here’s the other contingent.”
I watched dozens of medical and official people park and jump off their sleds. “Did Mickey make it back safely with Aria?” I asked.
McCann nodded. “He did. The boy found a local guy, who brought her out on his snowmobile. Once they got around the overturned tractor trailer, an ambulance met them and rushed her to the hospital.”
Tall Pines Mysteries: A Mystery/Suspense Boxed Set Page 87
