I flinched. Sam squeezed my foot again. It wasn’t my imagination. He was trying to tell me something. But what?
Who gives a fuck, it’s all part of the game.
“What am I supposed to do in the meantime, just hang out and pretend I don’t know you all plan on knocking me off?” I asked.
Sam dismissed that notion with a wave of his hand. “Hell no. I’m not pretending to be your boyfriend anymore. We’re locking your ass up here. Maybe I’ll bring you something to eat, maybe not. It would make it easier to move your body if you lost some goddamn weight.” He gave me a wicked grin.
I rolled over and buried my face in the pillow which reeked of his cologne, a scent that I loved. I squeezed my eyes shut against their mocking laughter.
Little did they know they were giving me what I needed.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
When I opened my eyes, the guys were gone, leaving Laurel. I gave a start when I saw she was still standing there, looking out the window.
“I suppose you hate me now,” she stated without preamble.
I sighed. “How could I hate you? You’re my sister. I just don’t understand. How could you do this to me?” My voice broke.
“All my life, I’ve been the good sister, the good wife, the good mother,” she said. I noticed she never said good daughter. “It didn’t get me anywhere. Now it’s my turn. It’s my turn to be good to myself. The hell with everyone else.”
“I meant it when I said we could sell the house. If you want to sell it that badly, fine. There doesn’t have to be bloodshed over it.”
Laurel shook her head. “But there does. We’re past the point of no return. And I want the money all to myself.”
“Take it. Take all the money. You can have it. I’ll find someplace I can afford on my salary and move out. Please, Laurel. You don’t have to do this.”
“Sorry, I don’t believe you. Once we’re home, you’ll take it all back.”
It was all about her, wasn’t it? She and Sam had that in common. I never factored into the equation. I never mattered at all.
“What are the guys getting out of it?” I asked.
Laurel grinned. “Nothing, isn’t that wild? Nothing except the sublime pleasure of killing you. They love this. They live for it. They’ve been getting off on this little charade for months.”
“How do you know they’re not going to kill you once they’re done with me?”
Laurel smirked. “I know.”
“Really? How? How do you know you’re not part of the plan? It would be brilliant if they pulled that one off. Get one sister to turn on the other and assist in her murder, then turn around and kill her too. The final punchline. Dump their bodies together, two for the price of one.”
Laurel shook her head at my idiocy. “They’re not, because the three of us already established our alibi together, you dolt,” she said. “We came up here for the weekend. You didn’t come because you were sick, as evidenced by your calling in sick to work. Then you vanished without a trace. Car still in the driveway.”
“The pings of the cell tower,” I said.
Laurel looked confused. “Huh?”
“My cell phone records would show I called in sick from the American Diner where we’d all just eaten dinner, making it look like…” I trailed off. It wasn’t much. But it was something.
Laurel shrugged. “Look like what? Like you got sick and couldn’t come with us to Lake George? So? But thanks for pointing out that minor hole in our story. We’ll say you already weren’t feeling well at the restaurant, and we saw you call in sick. Any other favors you’d like to do for us? You’re good at picking up inconsistencies in our story. The best murders are when everyone commits, even the victim.”
I resisted the impulse to whack myself in the forehead.
“And as to your other question, the guys don’t expect to get a dime from the sale. The thrill of the kill is good enough for them. The perfect victim is the only payment they require.”
“The police will question you, and you’ll break,” I said.
“I’ll turn on the waterworks. Beg them to do everything they can to find you alive.” She clasped her hands together. “Officer, other than my sons, she’s the only family I have in the world. You’ve got to find her! You’ve just got to!”
I swallowed. There was a lump in my throat. Images were coming at me fast and hard. Laurel and I bathing together in a tub full of toys. Baking chocolate chip cookies at midnight. Opening gifts together in silly holiday themed pajamas on Christmas morning. It was another lifetime, another life. Somewhere along the way we forgot we were sisters, that we loved each other.
And Laurel forgot how to be human.
“You don’t have to do this,” I said again. “You can steal John’s keys and drive us out of here. That’s probably your best bet. I mean, Sam and John will get caught, eventually. Then what? Everything will come out. You’ll be fingered as an accomplice and spend the rest of your life in prison. Worse if they don’t get caught. Because you and I both know they’ll get sick of you, and John can’t just break it off. You know too much. You must be eliminated. No matter what happens, this will end badly for you.”
She bit her lip. I’d got under her skin. She turned away, flipping her hair. “John and Sam will never get caught,” she hissed. “The first time was the only time they were ever suspected, and that was many years ago. And they’ve had female partners before. Like Sam’s last girlfriend. She died of a brain aneurysm, so they needed a new female accomplice.”
I snorted. “Died of a brain aneurysm? Sure. You believe that?”
Doubt flashed in Laurel’s eyes. She raised her chin. “Shut up. John loves me. He does.”
“Of course he does,” I sneered. “Think of me in the last minute of your life.”
Laurel grimaced. “I won’t. In a few weeks no one will ever think of you again.”
Ouch.
Satisfied she’d had the last word, Laurel flounced off.
CHAPTER THIRTY
The key was not to panic. I had to plan my escape rationally. It was essential to my survival. As I was dealing with three irrational individuals, this was a benefit they lacked. Outsmarting them was the only way to get out of this.
Yes, they planned my murder in advance, but other than that, they were flying by the seat of their pants. Their priority was establishing an alibi. They were leaving the rest to chance.
But they had experience. A lot of experience. I would do well to remember that and not underestimate my opponents.
Studying the window, I realized there was no need to break the glass. It opened. I unlocked it and pushed up the sash. A blast of frigid Nordic air hit me in the face, making my eyes sting, a sober reminder that not only did I have a trio of lunatics to contend with, but the unseasonably cold weather. Leaning out, I determined there was about a three-foot drop to the porch roof. I’d have to dangle from the sill so I wouldn’t make a lot of noise when I jumped. Here the weather was on my side. The snow would muffle the thud. And the howling wind would also cover it up.
Turning from the window, I gazed at my canvas sneakers. They would offer little to no protection from the elements. Then I remembered there were clothes in the closet. Tiptoeing across the plank floor, I opened the door to inventory its contents and came up with a pair of low topped men’s hiking shoes. They would have to do. They were big enough to fit over my sneakers. I lifted my foot and put it down. The shoes stayed on, but I imagined wearing them would give me an awkward duck walk. I couldn’t test this theory out, though. The sound of me walking in the heavy shoes would reverberate downstairs, bringing everyone up to investigate.
I yanked them off and put them aside, figuring I’d toss them into the snow and pull them on once I made it to the ground. Such heavy soles would make too much noise to wear them while dropping from the window.
Turning back to the closet, I found Sam was as neat and tidy here as he was at home. Everything was hung up, including hood
ies. I selected a long-sleeved t-shirt and put it on over the shirt I was already wearing, topping it off with a Yankees hooded sweatshirt. Then I pulled a pair of gray fleece sweatpants on over my leggings, cinching the drawstring tight around my waist. It was fortunate Sam was so skinny, otherwise the pants would be falling off. I had to roll them up around my ankles so I wouldn’t trip.
Taking one last look at the closet, I decided this was enough. I didn’t want to get bogged down by too many clothes, especially if they got wet. And hiking through the snow was bound to get me sweaty, despite the freezing temperature.
I wished I had mittens or a scarf, but those were probably kept in the closet downstairs, along with the snow boots and coats.
Preparations complete, I tiptoed back to the window, hiking shoes in hand. The weather had cleared. I stared out the window for a moment at the breathtaking winter wonderland, glittering in the moonlight. It was ominously beautiful. The light from the living room below made yellow puddles on the fallen snow. It was a pretty picture that belonged on a postcard.
I leaned forward and tossed the shoes out, one right after the other, sighing with relief when they cleared the porch roof. Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and said a silent prayer, although I was not the praying sort, so it was more like here goes nothing. I climbed onto the sash, wishing I was in better shape, twisting my body around and squatting to catch hold of it with my bare hands, reminding myself to do it slowly and carefully, to make no sudden moves.
Hanging from the sill, my toes found the surface of the porch roof. I gave one last glance at the open window above before closing my eyes and letting go. I landed with a tiny thud that seemed as loud as a gunshot in the silent air. I stood stock still, my heart pounding, waiting for the front door to fly open, or an angry face to appear at the window. Nothing.
I dropped to all fours and slowly inched my way across the slanted roof, confronting yet another obstacle in my escape. The snow changed to rain briefly this afternoon, then the temperature plunged, creating ice an inch thick. The last thing I needed was to fall from the roof and break a leg. Then it was game over. There would be no help from the inhabitants of this hellish cabin. Freezing to death was the best I could hope for under the circumstances.
I reached the end of the porch roof. This was the trickiest part, lowering myself to the railing, then down to the floor beneath it, then the snow where I’d be home free. Sort of. Luckily, the corner of the porch was just out of sight from the downstairs windows. Right foot on the railing, then left. The overhang from the roof had protected it from the ice, but I could still break my neck, which would be a speedy end considering the alternative.
I could hear them talking about a movie they wanted to see. Just an ordinary, everyday conversation I’d heard them have at least a dozen times. It was surreal. “It’s playing at the County Center,” Sam was saying. “I’d prefer the seven o’clock showing to the nine o’clock. See if that works for your friend.”
Friend? What friend? I froze. Was Laurel already setting Sam up with someone else, another victim?. That was the trade-off, wasn’t it? Once they did her the favor of killing her sister, she would supply them with fresh prey. But the joke was on them. Laurel had no friends. All she had were coworkers. She couldn’t very well kill them all off without falling under suspicion.
As I dropped to the ground, I realized there was a benefit to the icy conditions. I wasn’t leaving footprints on the hard crust. They wouldn’t be able to track me through the snow. Hope dawned. Maybe I could get out of this.
Don’t be so sure, Agnes warned.
Can’t you ever just support me, I asked ghost Agnes in my head, as I located the hiking shoes where they’d landed beside the house. Can’t you be my cheerleader, just this once?
Cheerleader? You don’t need a cheerleader. You need a reminder not to let your guard down for a single second. You are not even close to getting out of this.
She was right. As I moved towards the thick trees ringing the property, I realized John was also right about something for once. The roads were impassable. The dirt track that passed for a road in these parts had vanished beneath the thick coating of snow, indistinguishable from the rest of the landscape. There were no landmarks to follow. There was nothing but impenetrable woods.
A long, low howl filled the air, punctuating the realization that I was lost. A wolf? No, there weren’t any wolves in the Adirondacks. At least I didn’t think so. It was probably a coyote. Not that much better. Still a wild dog, probably hungry. Yet another predator. These woods were chock full of them.
I stumbled towards a slight clearing in the woods and turned left, the direction we had come from, although I wasn’t sure that was correct. I hesitated for a moment. There were other properties along this road. Such as where the ill-fated Lucy once lived. Maybe I should try to go there for help instead of embarking on a cold, dangerous hike to the main road. Decisions. How to know which one was right? I’d be taking an enormous gamble going to the right instead of the left. I might reach help quicker, but it was a risk. Like the Martin place, the other properties could be kept for occasional weekend getaways and vacations. They could be empty.
Break in. They’ll have food and warm clothes and maybe a couple of shotguns. Perhaps even a phone.
A shotgun? I’d never fired a gun in my entire life. Again, I was gambling that these mythical cabin dwellers had things like electricity and phones. I was betting some of them didn’t. We were in the middle of nowhere, off the grid.
My best bet would be the road. And I needed to walk faster. I had images of Sam climbing the stairs wanting to make love one final time, to hold my frantic, terrified body as the sun rose on my last day on earth. He had a twisted streak. He could head up to bed at any moment and find it empty. Then he’d sound the alarm.
I had to hurry.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Once the wind died, an eerie silence fell, punctuated only by the occasional thud of snow falling from bare tree branches. I trudged along the perimeter of the property, trying to gather my courage to plunge into the dense forest. Within lay a darkness more complete than any I’d ever known. The stars weren’t even visible through the trees.
I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face. Every step I took on the icy glaze was treacherous, although the thick tread on the heavy hiking shoes helped. Out here, there was only darkness and woods and enormous sky. I felt like the last person on earth.
I wasn’t sure I was going the right way. I was hopeless at directions before GPS was invented. Getting lost was one of my biggest fears. And that was when I was in a warm, safe car, not in the middle of the wilderness with a trio of killers planning my murder.
I reached a clearing that extended as far as I could see. I sagged in relief. It had to be the road. Civilization. Houses and people were just a few miles away. I wasn’t lost. I wouldn’t freeze to death in the Adirondack woods. Even if I couldn’t find an inhabited house, a plow was sure to be along at some point.
I was exhausted, a bone deep weariness the likes of which I’d never experienced. Just lifting my feet in the heavy shoes took a Herculean effort. I wasn’t in shape for this kind of hike, not in the dead of winter weighed down with bulky clothing and leaden shoes. I began to count my steps in my head. When I reached a thousand, I rested. As my exhaustion increased, I shortened the distance between rests to every five hundred steps, then every two hundred.
I stopped for a moment, hunkering down with my hands on my knees. I didn’t want to go any further. The thought of lifting my foot to take the next step was unbearable. As if the frigid cold and exhaustion wasn’t enough, my feet started hurting. I began to sob. My tears froze to my cheeks, making everything worse.
That’s right, cry Agnes jeered, like when I was a child. Crying won’t do any good.
I took a deep breath and gritted my teeth.
Don’t you want to live?
The alternative to life was spending eternity with her nagging I
told you so. I wiped my face with my sleeve and took a step. One.
Two…three…four…five.
I heard it before I saw it. The rumble of a motor in the distance. Headlights sliced through the darkness. The feeling of relief was palpable. Rescue. A truck would pull up beside me and it would be your friendly neighborhood plowman. “Ma’am, do you need help?” he’d ask, his face earnest and concerned beneath his stocking cap. “It ain’t fit out here for man nor beast tonight.”
Are you stupid? That vehicle is coming from the wrong direction. Hide!
I groaned. I wanted to be rescued so badly, for there to be an end to this ordeal. I was so tired. Maybe if I had faith, it would be a local headed into town.
Melody! Agnes’s voice was a shriek. Run! Now!
I forced my frozen legs to obey. I stumbled off the glittering expanse of clearing into the trees lining the road, falling onto all fours. That short burst of adrenaline warmed me up. My heart was pounding so loud I could hear it.
I was convinced the approaching vehicle was my salvation, and I was missing it by hiding. I crawled behind some foliage, little more than a collection of bare branches, and peered out.
The vehicle skidded to a stop. Both sets of doors swung open. It was the Jeep.
“I swear I saw someone,” Sam said.
They were close. Barely a dozen feet away. How did they not hear my labored breathing?
“I thought I did too,” John said.
“Call her,” Sam ordered Laurel.
She scoffed. “You think she’ll answer me? She knows I’m in on it.”
“Just do it,” Sam said, irritated.
“Melody!” Laurel shouted, putting her hands around her mouth to make a megaphone. “Melody, come out! It’s us. We just want to talk.”
Sam yelled, “Mel, it was just a prank! We were pulling your leg! Don’t you trust me? Then come out!”
“I told you guys we was taking it too far,” John said in a high pitched, phony voice.
Wrath of the Sister Page 14
