The map said the hike generally took about six hours in total and the first stop was about an hour in and would have us standing at about 2,950 feet above sea level. The greatest perk was that it had a rocky outcrop that offered stunning views of the ocean and island. The small picture on the map was the perfect place to have our showdown. We both agreed that should be where we stopped and had something to eat.
I convinced Shawna to lead the way, acquiescing to her stronger sense of adventure than what I possessed. She agreed with a vibrant smile and led the charge to the peak. Sure enough, almost an hour later on the nose, we exited the deep canopy of the rainforest and found ourselves in the brilliant sun, the view of the island and shimmering waters panoramic.
“My God, ain’t this just the shit! Look Mandy, you can see the other side of the island from here!” Shawna gushed.
I glanced up at my childhood friend, her giddiness real, not faked. A few strands of her thick, honey-colored hair escaped the messy bun on her head, the tendrils swaying in the breeze. Her lanky, five-foot-ten frame jumped up and down like a small child as she took in the surroundings. The smile on her face threw memories of our past in front of me, showering me with visions of our thirty-plus-year friendship. Weddings, funerals, birthdays, the prom, learning to drive, our first double date, our first rip-roaring drunk and hangover flashed by. The hours spent gabbing on the phone to each other. Our marathon conversations started out in our youth about dolls and clothes, finally graduating to guys, sex, college and children.
Oh Jesus, I can’t do this.
The images of the woman I practically considered my sister disappeared, replaced by the graves and Samuel standing over the freshly dug one, ready to dispose of me like yesterday’s trash--on the orders of his big sister.
My lump subsided, and my resolve roared back. The stifling tropical air that permeated our earlier climb and weighed down my shields was blown away by the brisk trade winds.
Yes, yes I can. And I will.
My chest throbbed and I tried to mask the pain from my heaving ribs with a sweaty smile. I moved over toward the outcropping of giant boulders and set down my backpack.
“This is simply Heaven. The air is the most intoxicating mix of scents that I have ever smelled. I wish I could bottle it. I’d make millions.”
“Girl, you ain’t kidding! It sure is nice to be out of that creepy forest. I knew at any minute a jaguar was going pounce on us. I really didn’t like the idea of being a snack.”
Shawna plopped her pack next to mine and started digging through it, letting out a small squeal when she found her water bottle.
“There are no big predators on this island, silly.”
Well, except for the two of us.
“Well, I’m just glad to be out of there. It felt like a ton of bugs were crawling all over me.”
“That’s just sweat. You’re positively soaked,” I said, throwing her a towel from my bag. I began unloading the small blanket and sandwiches for our picnic, watching every move she made out of my peripheral vision. She was busy setting up her portable tripod for her camera at the edge of the rocks, finding it difficult to steady in the uneven terrain.
“Those are going to be great shots. Guaranteed postcard quality for sure. Images are always worth a thousand words, right?”
Tripod in place and steady, Shawna stood back and surveyed the visual. Satisfied she had the camera pointing in the perfect direction, she came over and sat down on the blanket and snatched a sandwich.
“Yep, they sure are. Just wait until I upload them on my blog. People will go crazy with jealousy.”
“You and that computer—it’s an addiction, isn’t it? You spend more time online than a gamer.”
“Um, you forget that I work from home. Of course I’m on the computer all the time. It’s how I make my living.”
I smiled at her while I took a bite from my apple and watched the puffy clouds in the distance merge together. They had turned from cotton ball white to dingy gray and the low rumbling of thunder was a warning that a storm was brewing.
I turned my attention back to Shawna. She wasn’t doing a very good job of hiding her irritation. Her throat muscles tensed and her pulse throbbed in her temple. I knew it wasn’t from our hike. She was ready to strike, but I was going to beat her to it.
“What exactly is it that you do online Shawna? I don’t believe you’ve really shared that with me other than you design websites, which you started doing while you recuperated from your accident. You aren’t hooking on the side for extra money, are you?” I laughed, knowing those words would strike an angry chord. The looks of shock followed by anger were shining like a beacon on her damp skin. She paused in mid-chew and just stared at me, her eyes searching my own to see what I was getting at.
“You’re such a bitch, you know that, right?”
I threw my head back and laughed. “Takes one to know one. Isn’t that what they say?”
“Hey, I never claimed to be anything but. So,” she replied easing herself up off the blanket, “what about you? After your, um, ordeal, are you going to take any of those offers to hit the talk show circuit?”
I faked a stretch and stood up as well and chunked my apple core over the cliff to the waters below. “You know how much I hate those kinds of shows. No way. I have, however, been giving serious consideration to taking up the offer to write a book about it. Three publishers have contacted me already.”
Shawna’s eyes widened with shock, the black storm clouds that were moving in paled in comparison to the anger swirling behind her eyes.
“Are you serious? A book?”
“Yeah. The only problem with that option is writing that last chapter,” I said, casually walking over to my backpack.
“Why is that?” Shawna replied, her voice shaky.
I reached inside my bag and pulled out the knife I bought at the gift shop the day before and turned and faced my former best friend.
“Because it hasn’t happened yet.”
Shawna’s reaction was immediate. She took three halting steps back from me, her eyes wide with fear. It was the first time in my life that someone had actually cringed with fear at my presence, and it was rather intoxicating. She was only inches away from the huge rock that jutted out over the cliff.
“What…what are you talking about, Mandy?”
I gripped the bone handle tight in my left hand and squared my shoulders, my steps small as I made my way toward her.
“You know, Samuel was very talkative while he was digging my grave. Guess he felt the need to unburden his soul before he buried me. I learned some very interesting tidbits of information about you and your online activities, Shawna. Oh, and the fact that you’ve been fucking my ex-husband and decided that offing me was a better option than just telling me. Typical Shawna—always taking the easy way out.”
“How…how did you…?” Shawna stuttered.
“I put the puzzle pieces together when your brother was digging my grave, you sorry bitch.”
A large clap of thunder rolled around us as cooling drops of rain began to fall. Shawna was up against the rock now with nowhere to go except to climb up it or come through me. Every muscle in my body was ready, awaiting the fight. Shawna had always been a scrapper and she towered over me. But there was no fear on my end, only rage, so I was prepared to lunge. I had played the scenario out numerous times, trying to anticipate the responses from her. But the one that I hadn’t considered is what she gave me.
Tears.
“Please Mandy, don’t. You don’t understand. Oh God, I’m so sorry.”
“Sorry? For what? Stabbing me in the back by hooking up with Scott, luring seventy-four innocent women to their deaths, or for making me the seventy-fifth?” I growled, moving closer.
“Mandy, please, let me explain.” She held up her hands in desperation, her feet quickly scaling up the rock, putting space between us.
“There is no explanation for pure evil, Shawna.”
&nb
sp; Thunder clapped again and the sprinkles turned to a downpour. I raised my voice over the ferocious storm.
“How did it feel, knowing the unbelievable amount of suffering those poor women went through because you put them on their path of doom? How in the hell did you sleep at night? Did it just become easier after each one? I guess since they were strangers you felt no remorse, huh? But I’m not a stranger, Shawna. I was your best friend. And you betrayed me in the most unspeakable of ways. Now, it’s time to pay for that.”
Openly sobbing now, Shawna reached the peak of the rock. I followed her footsteps and blocked her escape route.
“I never expected death to be the ultimate result. I just thought Russell would swindle them out of their money. When he killed the first one, Samuel and I were stuck. I had already given hundreds of names to Russell, so he just kept on killing. What were we supposed to do, Mandy? Go to the police?”
“You never should have started in the first place, Shawna. And yes, once the first life was taken, you should have done the right thing. But you didn’t. You just kept on. What I want to know before I kill you is why me? Why did you decide I was to be the last one? Because of some average- sized dick that functions about half of the time? Were you that hard up for a lump to keep you warm at night? Seriously, you would have done better with a dog—they are much more loyal. But the part that hurts the most is that you should’ve told me you were in love with Scott. It probably would have ended our friendship, but isn’t that better than killing me and stealing my money? You were my friend!”
Shawna was teetering at the edge, her body shaking uncontrollably.
“Mandy, I love you! You have no idea how hard I fought to change his mind! I didn’t pick you, I swear. Scott did.”
Her words ripped out what humanity was left inside me. Shredded to the very core, wrath became my guiding force. The storm that raged around us was nothing in comparison to the one that churned inside my soul.
“What?”
“He…he caught me one night on the computer. It was late. I thought he was sleeping. When he figured out what we were doing, he threatened to go to the authorities. I begged him not to. He agreed to keep quiet…as long as you were the next victim. He wanted it done before he made his last payment to you. I…I had no choice, Mandy. When Jacob couldn’t convince you fast enough to meet him, Scott just went ahead and paid you, then backed me into a corner. He warned me that if we didn’t get all the money in your account, he would blow the lid off of our scheme. I was trapped.”
Fury burned through me. The fires of betrayal charred all reasoning.
“Trapped? Trapped? Don’t talk to me about being trapped. Try waking up in a dark cave while you watch your grave being dug by your childhood friend. Then we can discuss the sensation of feeling trapped. You put me through hell on earth—for money. And Scott? Can’t say that I am surprised he’s involved in plotting my death. Of course, if you’d actually been my friend and not out scurrying around behind my back like some horny alley cat, Scott would never have had the opportunity to put you in that position. Guess I will just have to deal with him later, after I’m done with you. Now, you have two choices, Shawna. Jump, or face me. Either way, you’re dead.”
Her face contorted in anguish, her limbs frozen in place. Great sobs of agony spewed out of her as resignation to her dire situation hit home. She turned and glanced behind her at the steep drop to the craggy rocks and frothy water below. For a minute, I thought she was going to take the coward’s way out.
The sobs suddenly dried up and her back straightened. A chill passed through me when I realized she chose to fight. The same determination to live that I had experienced in the cave exuded out of her like a palpable entity. I understood her gut instinct to survive, but it would be trumped by my animal instinct to kill.
I clung onto the soaking wet knife for dear life and crouched, ready for her assault. She spun around at the same time as a bolt of lightning slammed into the mountainside less than a hundred yards away. The concussion from the thunderclap that followed it shook the rock we stood upon and caused her to lose her balance on the slippery surface. Her arms spun in wild circles as she tried to maintain her footing, but it was no use. Her feet went out from under her, and she toppled over backward.
Her screams were drowned out as the storm barreled down around me. I dropped to my belly and crawled to the edge and watched her flailing body bounce like a ragdoll against the sharp rocks. In seconds, her mangled body came to a rest on the beach below, face down in the wet sand.
My anguished screams, borne from betrayal, loss and pain, were muffled by the swirling storm. The hot tears were indecipherable from the salty rain as I wept for the loss of the person I once was and the one I had become. They also were a cleansing release that Shawna’s end was meted out by divine intervention and not from my own hands.
“GOOD MORNING, MS. Russell. I have some news for you if you have a moment.”
I was sitting in my kitchen, enjoying a cup of stout espresso after a long night of writing in my journal. Less than fifteen minutes before the phone rang, I had just finished the final scene from Shawna’s demise in Dominica. The memories were still fresh and easily recalled since it had only been a month since that day on the rocks.
“Good morning, Detective Milton. I am already sitting down, so go ahead.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I should have prefaced that with I have some good news,” he responded. His embarrassment seeped across the phone lines from Kentucky to Tennessee.
“Don’t apologize. After everything that has happened, I just assumed it was bad. Guess I am a tad jaded.”
“You sure have weathered some terrible storms, Ms. Russell. But I hope that my news will help bring some blue sky your way.”
“Well, now that would be a welcome change. I’m all ears.”
“Number one is your gun has been officially released now that the case is closed. You are welcome at any time to come pick it up. Number two is that the forensic accountant finished the examination of the bank records. All the funds have been distributed evenly back to the families. They all asked me to express their heartfelt thanks for everything, and some requested that I pass along their prayers.”
“I appreciate you letting me know, Detective. If you have a chance to speak to any of them again, please tell them thank you for me.”
There was a moment of brief silence and I sensed he wasn’t quite finished yet. I knew what subject he was trying to broach, so I beat him to it.
“I assume you heard that Scott entered a guilty plea yesterday and was sentenced to twenty years.”
He tried to let his sigh of relief out quietly, but it didn’t work.
“Yes, I heard. Guess he didn’t want to risk a jury of his peers sending him away for life.”
“Yeah, he always was a chicken shit,” I said, laughing as I thought how his blonde hair and lithe frame would look like dessert to his new cell mates.
“I heard on the news the other day that you were writing a book about your experiences called Number 75. Is that true?”
“Sort of. I am putting all my thoughts down in a journal and then I am to deliver them to the publisher. They will have someone ghostwrite it—I believe that’s what they called it. I just finished the last volume right before you called. Good thing too because I couldn’t hold the pen any longer. My fingers are dead tired.”
“You’re writing out the story by hand? Wow, old school.”
“I no longer own a computer, Detective. They are too dangerous.”
“I can see why you would feel that way, Ms. Russell. So, would you like to schedule a time to come pick up your weapon?”
“To be honest Detective, I don’t plan on setting foot inside the state of Kentucky ever again. Do what you wish with it. I have plenty here to keep me safe.”
My momma didn’t raise no fool.
Damn straight.
Books by
Ashley Fontainne
Matthew Costello
Raymond Benson
Janelle Taylor
Zach Fortier
Cover, interior book design and eBook design
by Blue Harvest Creative
www.blueharvestcreative.com
Edited by Jeff LaFerney
NUMBER SEVENTY-FIVE
Copyright © 2013 Ashley Fontainne
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written permission of the publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.
Published by
RMSW Press
ISBN-13: 978-0615786773
ISBN-10: 0615786774
Visit the author at:
Website:
www.ashleyfontainne.com
Blog:
www.ramblingsofamadsouthernwoman.blogspot.com
Facebook:
www.facebook.com/ashleyfontainne
Number Seventy-Five Page 5
