Lethal Legacy

by Amanda McKinney

  “I’m taking you to my place.”

  “Your place?”

  “Yes, I keep a house here.”

  Fifteen minutes later, the car made a right turn onto a dark street. Victoria shuttered as she gazed out the window. The streetlights were busted out, trash was scattered alongside the road. The houses were old and worn.

  “We’re here.”

  The car came to a stop outside of a small house at the end of a cul de sac.

  Realizing how sore she already was, Victoria pulled herself out of the passenger side. Anthony met her at the front of the car, put his hand on her back and guided her to the front door.

  Inside, the house was as bare and dark as the street. It smelled stagnant, as if there was no air flow. The house opened up to a small living room followed by a kitchen in the back. To the left were two small bedrooms. She could see the entire house from the front door.

  The walls were painted a faded yellow and were completely bare except for an old clock hanging next to the fireplace. A broken ceiling fan clung to the ceiling. A stained fabric loveseat sat in the living room facing a small box TV with rabbit ears.

  “Come in.” He glanced around. “There’s not much, I’m sorry.”

  She stepped into the living room and sat on the sofa. “Did you see who had me?”

  He leaned against the living room wall. His black suit was dirty and scuffed at the knee. The white collar torn. His hair, usually slicked back, was disheveled. “No, I didn’t.”

  “It was a male, though right? Caucasian?”

  “Yes, definitely a male, and yes, Caucasian, I think.” He walked over and sat next to her on the sofa. “You okay?”

  She slumped over, putting her elbows on her knees. “I think so. Sore, but I think I’m okay. I need to go to the police.”

  “Let’s get you calmed down first.” He rubbed her back. “I’ve got a bottle of water in the kitchen, if you’d like?”

  “Sure.”

  Victoria leaned back as Anthony left her and brought back the water.

  Hands trembling, she took a sip. It felt like knife blades sliding down her sore throat. “Who the hell would attack me?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know. Was anyone at the party that seemed out of place?”

  She paused. “The blonde was there.”

  “The blonde who was with your husband? Did you speak with her?”

  “No, I was following her but I lost her. That’s how I ended up in the stock room.” She paused. “How did you find me? I didn’t see you at the event.”

  “I was walking up from my car when I saw a man dragging a woman and I sprinted up.” He leaned closer. “I was worried for you, Victoria. I came to check on you.” He ran his fingers through her black hair.

  “How did you hear about the event?”

  “It was in the paper.”

  Victoria’s mind started racing.

  He rubbed her back. “Did you talk to the cops before this?”

  “No, as you suggested.”

  “Good.”

  The air was still. Suffocating. Victoria tightened her grip on the plastic water bottle.

  “Victoria, have you been able to remember anything about your father since we last spoke?”

  “No, I haven’t.” She shifted her weight.

  He leaned closer. “Try to remember, Victoria.”

  She felt his hot breath on her neck. A chill ran up her spine. Looking straight ahead, she said, “I need to go.”

  He straightened.

  The room was as still and silent as the night. Her heart began to thrum in her chest.

  Before she could brace herself, his large callused hand swiftly pinned her against the couch. She gasped, and the water bottle fell to the ground. His heavy weight shifted onto her and she felt the cold pressure of a metal blade against her throat. She inhaled to scream.

  “Don’t even fucking think about it.” He pressed the knife harder against her neck. She felt the sting of the blade pierce her skin.

  His bloodshot eyes were wild, his lips narrowed. His greasy hair fell in strands over his face.

  Limbs trembling, chest heaving, Victoria bit her lip.

  He edged himself over her, one knee holding her legs down, one hand pressing her against the couch, the other hand holding the knife.

  Sneering at her, he said, “You’re not going anywhere.”

  She opened her mouth, but no words came out. Her eyes pleaded with him.

  Sweat beaded across his greasy forehead. He released the hand on her chest, pressing the knife harder on her throat. He pulled a zip tie out of his back pocket. “Put your hands here.”

  She didn’t move.

  “Do it!” He screamed as drops of spit splattered her face.

  Slowly, she raised her hands. When he looked down, she bucked with all her might, sending her knee into his groin and throwing him off her. The knife flew across the floor.

  “You bitch!”

  She scrambled off the couch and lunged toward the door.

  Leaping onto the back of the couch, he grabbed the back of her dress, pulling her backwards. They tumbled to the ground.

  Wildly, they wrestled. Arms, legs, elbows, fists flying, connecting with whatever body part she could. Prying her wrist free from his grasp, she drug her fingernails down his face.

  “Fuck!”

  He reared back and head-butted her cheek. Her head flew back; her vision went momentarily black when she hit her head. Pain shot through her skull.

  He jumped and pinned her to the ground. Blood poured down the side of her face. Red streaks ran down his.

  Rage spilled from his eyes. “Where’s the key!”

  Panting, she could barely speak. “What?”

  “The key, you bitch!”

  “What key?”

  Her fingers felt the tip of the blade. As her eyes locked with his, she stretched her fingers and edged it closer.

  “Don’t play dumb with me!”

  “I swear, I don’t know what you’re talking about!” She wrapped her fingers around the shaft of the knife.

  “I’ll kill you if you don’t tell me where the key is!”

  She inhaled and threw her head forward, sending her forehead into his nose. Blood sprayed everywhere. She gripped the knife and rammed it into his back.

  “Ahhhhhhhh!” He threw himself off her.

  She scrambled to her knees, glancing over her shoulder as she stood up.

  Anthony lay on the floor, a pool of blood spreading underneath his body. His eyes locked on hers.

  She turned on her heel and sprinted out the door.

  Chapter 13

  Gravel cut through the bottom of her feet as Victoria sprinted down the sidewalk. Blood ran down the side of her face, her black gown was torn, her hair disheveled. She’d lost her shoes in the tussle. Her right eye was throbbing and almost swollen shut. Her hand gripping the shaft of the knife was now covered in blood.

  She had no idea where she was. The street was as quiet and as dark as when they’d arrived. No cars, no people.

  Get off the road, Vee.

  She darted through a yard, rounded the back of atrailer home and jumped behind a tree. Chest heaving, she doubled over to catch her breath. Sweat mixed with blood dripped off her nose.

  Stupid! Stupid, Vee!

  How the hell had she not seen it? Anthony wanted her dead. No, he wanted a key, and then he wanted her dead.

  She listened for footsteps or any sign of him. Had she killed him?

  She had to get to a main road, hail a cab. If her memory served her correctly, she was at least fifteen minutes from downtown.

  Taking a deep breath, she listened again. Dead, crisp leaves rustled in the wind. A cool breeze whispered in her ear. For a moment, the clouds parted and the moon cast a blue glow through the trees.

  She backed away from the tree, her eyes scanning the surroundings. She tucked the knife under her bra strap and with nothing but her instincts to guide her, she turned
right and began jogging. Keeping off the road, she maneuvered through yards, hopped fences and paused every block to gauge the distance.

  Eventually, fatigue took its toll and the jog slowed to a walk. Her head throbbed, feet stung and her whole body ached.

  She thought about knocking on the door of one of the houses, but considering the seedy neighborhood, she decided against it. Not a single car had passed.

  She walked for what seemed like an hour until she finally heard the hum of vehicles. Relief washed over her as she spotted a busy road up ahead.

  Not wanting to attract any attention, she spit on the bottom on her dress and took a second to wipe the blood from her face and neck. She let down her hair and scooped it to the side to conceal her swollen cheek and eye. Taking a deep breath, she held her shoulders back and attempted to walk without a limp.

  A few blocks later she stood, arm raised, at a busy intersection. People passed by her without even a glance. Normal people, probably on their way home from a fun evening with friends or family. Normal people who had no idea Victoria Henry was just kidnapped and beaten. Normal people who had no idea Victoria Henry had stabbed a man.

  A taxi pulled up.

  “Four Seasons, please.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Victoria jumped in the back, sank down in the seat and closed her eyes.

  * * * *

  After a brief taxi ride, Victoria stepped into her suite and walked to the bedroom. Natasha had dropped off Victoria’s purse at the front desk and left an eager message for her to call as soon as she got in. The hotel staff confirmed no one else had called, or requested to see her.

  She pulled the knife out of her bra, stripped out of her gown, threw it in the trash and stepped into a scalding hot shower. She let the water beat down on her back and shoulders. Her legs ached and feet stung. Blood and dirt mixed with water ran down her body and pooled at the bottom of the shower. She lifted her head, closed her eyes, inhaled deeply and let her mind go blank.

  Thirty minutes later, she pulled out of the parking garage and dialed her friend.

  “Vee!”

  “I’m sorry I’m calling so late.”

  “Where the hell are you? Are you okay?”

  Pause. “Yes, I’m okay. Sorry, I had to leave suddenly. Thanks for bringing my purse to the hotel and handling the rest of the event.”

  “Vee, what the hell is going on?”

  “Something. I’m not sure what, but something is definitely going on.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I was assaulted outside the event.”

  “What?! Assaulted? Are you okay?”

  “I’m okay, but I need to get out of town for a while.”

  “Vee, where are you? I’ll meet you now.”

  “No, I’ll be okay, I just need some time to figure things out.”

  “Did you call the cops?”

  “No.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “To the lake house. About ninety minutes out of town.”

  “Whose lake house?”

  “Will’s and mine.”

  “I didn’t know you guys had a lake house.”

  “We bought it when we first moved here, as a weekend retreat. But, we’ve only been out there twice. It’s a small, secluded house that no one knows about.”

  “Have you heard from Will?”

  “No.”

  “Do you want me to come out and stay with you?”

  “No, thank you. I need you to run the gallery while I’m gone, okay?”

  “Of course. Vee, how long will you be gone?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Okay, but I don’t like this. You’re being vague and I don’t like you going somewhere alone.”

  “I’ve got to go.”

  “At least text me the address so I know where you are.”

  “I gotta go, Tasha.”

  “Talk soon, okay?”

  “Yes.”

  Click.

  Victoria tossed her phone on the passenger seat. She looked in her rearview mirror, and watched downtown fade into the distance.

  She glanced down at the clock, almost one in the morning. The further she drove, the fewer cars passed until eventually she was the only one on the road. The city was long behind her.

  She began thinking of Anthony’s demands for a key. What key? One her father had? Or William? Something told her it was her father’s key?

  She tapped the steering wheel searching her memories. She didn’t remember him ever speaking of a key, or giving her one. A key to what?

  Feeling the ache of a headache coming on, she shook her head and attempted to clear her thoughts.

  Thick woods lined both sides of the narrow two-lane road. She turned her headlights on high beam and scanned the road. Nothing but dark woods. No houses, buildings, driveways, streetlights, nothing. Hell, she wasn’t even one hundred percent sure she was going the right way.

  It had been over a year since she and William last visited the lake house. He had just gotten back from yet another long business trip to Mexico. On the day he left, the house received a call from their travel agent. The agent was calling to confirm that she was able to book another first class seat for Will’s travel companion. As if Victoria needed any more proof of his extramarital affairs.

  The tension between them was at an all-time high. Although, to Victoria, it wasn’t tension so much as disgust and disdain. By this point in their marriage, she was numb and flippant to his affairs. She honestly didn’t care. Hell, it took pressure off her to pretend she was enjoying herself in the bedroom. She often looked at him with disgust behind his back. And he knew it.

  The day he arrived home, he’d been on edge. Something had been different about this trip.

  Victoria was in the gym, stretching on her mat when he burst through the door. “You didn’t return my call today.”

  She looked up. Her stomach tightened, sensing his mood. “I was busy with a tour at the gallery.”

  He stalked over to her. She stood up.

  “You think you can ignore my calls, wife?”

  Calmly, she replied, “You ignore mine, husband.”

  “Bullshit!” he yelled, throwing his hands in the air. Victoria widened her stance.

  “You’re up to something, Victoria, I know it!”

  “That’s asinine, William.”

  His voice began to shake. “I’m so sick of your attitude! Your ‘holier than thou’ attitude! You think I can’t tell how you feel about me?” He wildly looked around. “I give you all this! You live like this because of me! I work all day in my damn father’s shadow so we can live like this! And you don’t even give me the courtesy to answer my phone calls!”

  She remained silent while listening to his tirade. He hated his father and the company that made him so wealthy. Any time he brought either subject up, there was no stopping him.

  Rage filled his eyes. He lunged forward and grabbed her arm. She felt her skin burn as he squeezed and twisted it, sending a sharp pain up her arm. Snarling, he said, “You will respect me, Victoria. I am powerful, and you will give me that respect.”

  She locked her eyes on his. No tears, no fear. Her jaw clenched, her shoulders tense, rage spilling from her eyes. A rage that matched his, except hers was a controlled rage. Deadly.

  In a low, calm voice, she enunciated, “Release my arm, William.”

  His expression faded from anger to surprise. He’d expected her to scream and cry in his grasp. He expected her to plead with him to let her go. He finally released her arm, looked her up and down and left the room.

  The next day, a calm William suggested they spend the weekend at the lake, to relax and get away from everything.

  A week later, the bruises on her arm finally began to fade.

  * * * *

  It was pitch black outside, and she didn’t recognize the mailbox until it was only five yards ahead. She slowed down and veered left, up the steep driveway, scanning the thick w
oods on either side of the two-rut road. Up ahead, the silver moonlight illuminated the edges of the lake house. Not a light was on, of course.

  Built of stone and wood, the large, two story lake house was built in the early nineteen hundreds, and had been featured in several local magazines.

  She rolled to a stop, turned off the car and stepped out. Pain shot through her feet. The sound of bugs and all sorts of little creatures filled the cold air. The smell of wet ground and fallen leaves filled her nose. She heard the lapping of the waves against the dock in the back. She hadn’t anticipated how creepy the house would be in the middle of the night.

  Retrieving her suitcase from the trunk, she walked up the stone path and onto the porch.

  She almost screamed as a rodent scampered from underneath the porch swing. Wind swept through her hair as she unlocked the house.

  The front door creaked as she opened it. The house smelled of damp, stale air. She flipped the light switch before remembering that they only bothered to turn on the utilities before they visited. Damn, it. Mental note to call first thing in the morning.

  After retrieving a flashlight from her car, Victoria set her suitcase down and looked around. The spacious entry way split off to a sitting room on the right and bedrooms to the left. Straight ahead, the house opened up to a large living space with a loft above. The room was accentuated by windows looking out to the lake.

  Victoria went through each room in the house, making sure all windows were secured and doors locked.

  In the bedroom, she retrieved the safe from under the bed. Keying in the code, she flipped open the top and inhaled the smell of gun oil. She carefully picked up the Glock 20. Confirming it was loaded, she set it on the floor next to her. Her pulse picked up as she lifted the Smith & Wesson 460. She traced her finger down the shiny barrel.

  She placed the Glock on the nightstand next to the bed and carried the 460 with her to the kitchen. Gun in hand, she leaned against the counter and gazed out the window. The moonlight danced on the black water. Small waves lapped against the dock. Hundreds of bugs and critters screamed into the night sky.

  It was going to be a long night.

  Chapter 14

  Danny woke up thinking about her. About how she looked in that black gown. About how her green eyes seemed to sparkle as she gazed up at him. About how he wanted to rip that dress off of her and throw her onto his bed.