Low Tide: Rarity Cove Book Two

by Tentler, Leslie

  “I like you, Quinn. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Listen to me, all right?” Heart jumping, she took a step back. “You were high when you left that message, but you called Carter to confess. Don’t you see?” She tried to appeal to any sense of morality he had. “Some part of you doesn’t want to carry this burden anymore. It’s eating you up inside. You did a horrible thing, but you weren’t in control of—”

  “I’m sorry.” His voice roughened. “But I won’t let you tell him.”

  He began to close the remaining distance between them. Quinn broke into a sprint toward the kitchen, hoping she could make it to the service door and get it open before he caught her. But Elliott was on her heels, grabbing at her, his hands snatching at her clothing. Racing through the butler’s pantry and into the kitchen, she saw the knife block on the counter. She tried to get to it, but Elliott shoved her hard from behind. She stumbled and fell, her forehead glancing off the counter’s edge.

  Pain exploded in her skull.

  A black mist closed over her.

  Chapter Forty

  This couldn’t be happening. Elliott propelled Quinn from behind, his arm braced over her chest, the knife he gripped in his other hand pressed against her throat. Fear swamped her.

  “Through there. Go.”

  They were in the hall, headed toward the rear wing. Quinn felt dizzy, her head throbbing where she had hit it. When she had come to on the kitchen floor, Elliott had forced her up, threatening her with the knife.

  As they entered the gym, she glimpsed the adjacent open door that led to the garage. It must have been how he had gotten in. She thought he might take her away from the property. But instead he pushed her past the treadmill and weight machines, past the shower. She bit back a cry at the sight of them in the mirrored walls. Then the blade left her throat as he released her. Quinn faced him, her limbs weak and chest heaving.

  “Elliott, please.” Her voice trembled. “You don’t want to do this. Whatever you’re planning—”

  “He wasn’t supposed to survive, you know.” He studied the glinting knife in his hand, seeming to be speaking mostly to himself. “He’d lost too much blood. They’d already prepared his family...”

  Quinn stared at him, her heart beating erratically. There was so much she didn’t understand—why he had been here that night, what Bianca had done to provoke him. How had he remained undiscovered and in Carter’s confidence all this time? As he continued to ramble unsteadily, she attempted to glance around, looking for something to use to defend herself. But the blow to her head had made her vision sluggish. The room tilted, and she grabbed on to the stationary bike’s handle for support.

  “When they found his stalker here, I thought maybe God was giving me a second chance,” Elliott murmured, his face lined. “The police just assumed Dobbins had done it—she had a history of mental illness, she was here in the house.” He shook his head in seeming reflection. “I never saw her, so she must’ve come in after me. She was probably trying to help them.”

  Which was how Kelsey had gotten their blood on her. Her prints had been on the shears—had she pulled them from Carter’s body after Elliott fled? Quinn’s stomach clenched at the image. Still, she attempted to keep him talking to stall him.

  “You…tried to keep Carter out of the bathroom, didn’t you?” she asked carefully. “You locked the door. You were in there all along.”

  He lifted his chin, his gaze narrowing. “How’d you know the door was locked?”

  She wouldn’t divulge that fragments of Carter’s memory were returning. That would put a target on his back, too. Instead, she said, “The police found a key in the lock. Carter told them he kept it in the nightstand. They figured he’d had to use it to get in.”

  At her explanation, his eyes grew distant. “When he came upstairs, I had no choice but to go back into the bathroom. I didn’t know he had a key. I was trying to open the window to climb out, but when I heard the lock turning, I hid in the closet.” Emotion thickened his voice. “He called 911. The police were on their way. I had to get out of there, and I couldn’t let him identify me.”

  “You had to kill him,” she prodded gently, as if understanding his plight. “But you didn’t want to, did you?”

  His eyes grew wet. “No.”

  “Elliott…I-I know you care about Carter. What you’re doing right now will hurt him all over again.” She held her hands out pleadingly. “If something happens to me—”

  “You can’t talk me out of this. Don’t even try!” Scrubbing a hand over his face, he began to pace, his remorse replaced by a growing agitation. “I can’t go to prison! I won’t!”

  She was losing him. The panic she was trying to keep at bay clawed at her.

  “Take off your clothes.”

  Every muscle in her body tensed. Elliott pointed the knife’s tip at her. “Do it now. Don’t test me.”

  He opened the door to the sauna.

  Oh, God. Her heart plummeted. Quinn suddenly understood why he hadn’t taken her off the property. Elliott had been high the first time he had killed. But he was sober now and wanted to avoid such violence. Instead, he was going to try to make her death look like an accident, make it appear as though she had simply gone into the sauna and stayed too long. Her body tremored. She would die of heatstroke. She looked again at the knife he gripped in his fist, his stance unmoving. Even if he didn’t want to, she had no doubt he would use it if she resisted.

  “Do it!” Spittle flew from his lips.

  Her hands shook as she peeled off her top and removed her khaki capris, clinging to the stationary bike for balance. He focused his gaze on the floor instead of looking at her.

  “Your underwear, too.”

  The room tilted again. Unsteadily, she removed her bra and panties, a sense of doom pushing down on her. Elliott handed her a towel, and she wrapped it around herself.

  “Get in. All the way to the back.”

  Her breath rasped out of her. Tears burned behind her eyes. “Elliott, what you did…it wasn’t premeditated. But this…”

  His chin quivered. But he moved forward, brandishing the knife at her until she backed clumsily inside. Following her in, he used the blade to pop the control panel from the sauna’s interior wall, then disconnected it from its wires.

  “You mentioned God before.” Her voice shook with desperation. “Maybe you’re being given a chance now to do the right thing, to make up for what you did before—”

  She’d taken a tentative step closer, and he pointed the knife. “Get back!”

  Quinn complied, her knees weak. “Elliott, you nearly OD’d! You can’t live with this on your conscience anymore!”

  “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. Despite the anguish in his eyes, he again threatened her with the knife. “Stay put, or I…I swear to God I’ll kill you.”

  Carrying the knife and control pad, he walked out and closed the door. Quinn watched in panicked disbelief through the tempered glass window as he removed the plated weights from each side of a barbell and then slid its metal shaft through the door handle on the sauna’s outside. Beeping noises told her he was setting the temperature on the exterior control panel.

  She cried out and beat on the thick pane with her hands, terror consuming her. “Elliott, please!”

  He turned away as she continued to scream and plead. Then he sank to the floor. Looking down through the glass, Quinn could see him. Head cradled in his hands, his shoulders shook as he sobbed, making deep, racking sounds.

  “I know you don’t want to kill anyone else! Please!”

  He ignored her cries. Minutes passed before he climbed wearily back to his feet. Quinn’s throat had grown raw from screaming. Her palms throbbed from beating on the glass. He didn’t look at her again. Using his shirtsleeve, he wiped his nose and eyes. Then he picked her clothing up from the floor, folding them neatly and leaving them on a padded bench outside the sauna. He walked from the room with heavy steps, closing the door behind him
.

  Quinn’s heart beat as though it might explode. She looked frantically around the sauna, searching for something to break the window’s heavy glass. But there was nothing. Already, the temperature had risen, and a trickle of perspiration rolled down her back. She nearly keened as she thought of being slowly overcome by unrelenting heat. Quinn knew the signs of heatstroke, what she would experience. How long would it take for her to succumb? Thirty minutes? More?

  Elliott would return after she had expired. He would remove the bar from the door and reconnect the control pad, and then he would leave.

  Her lungs squeezed. Carter would never know the real cause of her death. He would never know his friend was a killer unless the whole of his memory returned. She listened to the sound of her too-rapid breathing. She was nearly hyperventilating.

  Calm down. You have to.

  Anxiety would only hasten the heat’s effects. Still woozy from the blow to her head, Quinn sank onto one of the benches. Closing her eyes, she forced herself to slow down her breathing. She touched her forehead where she had hit it. It felt puffy and sore. It would look as though she had injured herself when she had been overcome by the heat and fainted. She would be the second of Carter’s lovers to die in his home.

  Perspiration began to sheen her body. The air she drew into her lungs grew heavier and hotter.

  Terror choking her, she prayed.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Carter made his way up the winding canyon road. Above him, the last vestiges of daylight had begun to fade, the sky visible through the Range Rover’s sunroof a wash of eggplant and mauve. When he hadn’t been able to reach Quinn by cell after several tries, he had ended the photo shoot early, much to the photographer’s and magazine staff’s consternation.

  Quinn was already apprehensive about their relationship. He worried Ariel’s harsh words had been the breaking point.

  Heading through the gate, he drove past the main house and parked in front of the cottage, although it appeared dark inside. He went in, anyway, relief filtering through him upon seeing Quinn’s clothing and luggage still there. Looking at the larger house through the glass doors, he noticed a light coming from a window. Was she up there? He had seen no van or pickup truck to suggest she was still with the workman.

  Going outside, he walked under the trellis that separated the cottage from the main property, then went across the lawn until he stood under the porte cochere. Unlocking the front door, he entered. The security system wasn’t on.

  Although the foyer was dark, the light he had seen appeared to be coming from the kitchen. As he reached its entrance, surprise made his skin tingle. It was Elliott who sat at the granite island with his back to him, his head in his hands. He must not have heard him come in. Carter made his presence known. “What’s going on?”

  Elliott startled, standing quickly and whirling to face him. Carter frowned at the bottle of scotch and nearly empty glass on the island. “Why aren’t you at New Beginnings?”

  Elliott stared at him as if he were a ghost. “I…couldn’t take it,” he stammered finally. “I-I’m going to try to beat this on my own.”

  Carter nodded to the bottle. “You’re off to a shit start.”

  “The photo shoot you told me about this morning,” Elliott said, his voice taut, “I thought it’d still be going on—”

  “I called it off early.” He noticed Elliott seemed especially jittery. Disappointed and frustrated he hadn’t given rehab a chance, Carter came farther into the kitchen. “If you don’t care enough about yourself to try to get better, I can’t make you. But why’re you here?”

  A tightness around his reddened eyes, he seemed to search for a response. “I…didn’t want to face those judgmental pricks in my building. My ears have been burning since what happened Saturday night. I still have a spare key and the security code. I thought it’d be okay if I lay low here for a while.”

  Carter wanted to have it out with him about leaving rehab, but at the moment he wasn’t his top priority. He drew in a breath. “Have you seen Quinn?”

  “I-I thought she went with you to the shoot.”

  “She left. She was coming here to meet a contractor.”

  Elliott rubbed at the back of his neck. “I haven’t seen her. She must’ve already come and gone.”

  “How long have you been here?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe forty-five minutes.” He fidgeted, shifting his stance and passing a shaky hand over his brow. “Look, I’m sure she’ll turn up eventually. Why don’t you go to the cottage and wait for her? If she shows up here, I’ll send her down.”

  Quinn’s unexplained absence concerned Carter. It wasn’t like her to just fall off the radar. He knew nothing of the workman she was supposed to have met here. There were situations in the news from time to time, cases where women had been attacked or abducted by men posing as service professionals. He recalled having seen the business card of the Realtor with whom Quinn planned to list the property back at the cottage. The agent had recommended the contractor, if he recalled correctly. He would give her a call to see what he could find out. There was also the taxi Quinn was supposed to have taken from the pier, although he had no idea which cab company it was from.

  Maybe he was overreacting, but something didn’t feel right.

  “We’re going to talk about this later. You’re a train wreck, Elliott. You need to go back to rehab.” He walked from the kitchen. As he passed through the butler’s pantry, a glimmer on the floor caught his eye. The necklace Quinn had been wearing today. Picking it up, he saw its delicate chain was broken.

  “What’s that?” Elliott asked from behind him.

  Carter’s mouth had gone dry. She had definitely made it here. It could’ve just gotten caught in her hair and she’d unknowingly broken the chain, he reasoned. Don’t think the worst. Still, he loudly called her name, that same, undefinable unease growing inside him.

  “Quinn!” he shouted again into the large house.

  “I-I’m telling you, she isn’t here!” Elliott insisted.

  Returning to the foyer, Carter went up the curved staircase, but there was nothing in the master bedroom suite or bathroom where she and the contractor would have been. He checked his study and the other rooms before returning to the main floor. Elliott was still in the living area, pacing, dragging a hand through his unkempt hair and mumbling to himself. When Carter spoke his name, he stopped in his tracks, appearing even paler than before.

  “Jesus, Elliott. How much have you had to drink?” Carter shook his head at him as he headed for the rear wing. “I’m worried about Quinn. Instead of just standing there, do you think you can help me? Check the library and media room for her, all right? I’ll look in the gym.”

  Elliott’s voice was strained. “Don’t go back there.”

  Carter halted at the warning, the hair at his nape prickling. He turned to look at him.

  “I mean, I-I just came through there earlier.” He shrugged weakly. “No Quinn.”

  Carter’s eyes fell on Quinn’s purse beside the phone console. What the hell was going on? Ignoring Elliott, he went quickly down the long hall. Carter opened the door and entered the gym, his gaze sweeping the space.

  His heart turned sideways as he saw the metal shaft lodged under the sauna’s door handle.

  He dashed to it and removed the shaft, tossing it to the floor. A wave of oven-like air rolled over him as he flung the door open. Dear God. Quinn lay motionless on one of the cedar benches, her eyes closed. A cry tore from his throat. “Quinn!”

  He sprinted inside, dropping onto his knees beside her. Terror sawed through him. Her skin was hot and dry as he tried to shake her awake. No response. Who’d done this? The man she’d met here? He called to Elliott for help. Cursing, fear squeezing his chest, Carter gathered her into his arms. He felt the strain in his shoulder as he half carried, half dragged her limp body out and into the shower. He had to get her temperature down. Turning on the cold water, he sank with her on
to the tile floor.

  “Wake up, honey. Please.” Tears welled in his eyes as the frigid spray rained over them. Holding her, her neck and head cradled in the crook of his arm, he undid the towel wrapped around her body, letting the cold water make direct contact with her flushed skin. He laid his trembling fingers against the side of her throat, his heart dropping at the too-fast beat of her pulse.

  Please, God. Please don’t let her die.

  He gasped in relief when she moaned a moment later, her eyes fluttering open, although her gaze was unfocused.

  “I’ve got you, sweetheart. You’re going to be okay.” A knot in his throat, water running down his face, Carter examined the swollen, discolored area at her hairline. Confusion as well as a livid anger coursed through him. She’d been trapped in there. Why? He yelled for Elliott once more.

  Quinn anchored her fingers in his sodden shirt, grabbing on to him as if trying to crawl into his skin. She struggled to tell him something, but her words were slurred and unintelligible. As he stroked a hand over her wet hair, her lashes fluttered closed, her body going limp again. “Quinn, stay with me!”

  He had to get her to a hospital. He had to call for help. His cell phone was in his jeans pocket. He’d kept it on him in case she called. Carter rolled Quinn off his lap and onto her side so he could get to it, positioning her so she wouldn’t inhale water. He got to his knees and removed it from his jeans pocket, water beading and bouncing on the screen. He began to punch in the numbers, but stopped.

  Elliott stood in the doorway.

  He held a large butcher knife.

  Carter flashed on an image of Elliott on top of him, driving the shears into his chest. Shockwaves ran through his limbs. The ghost-pain of it made it hard to fill his lungs.

  But Elliott remained frozen, his face haggard, the knife’s handle gripped loosely in his fist. Blood roaring in his ears, Carter scrambled from the shower, putting himself between Elliott and Quinn. Water dripped from his clothes and hair as he picked up the steel shaft that had blocked the door. He held it in his left hand like a club, ready to defend himself, to protect Quinn at any cost. Emotion thickened his throat.