Someone Knows

by Lisa Scottoline

  Julian left the cornfield, which ended in a manicured acre with mulched beds of azalea and rhododendron, with Mac’s house in the center. It was a large ranch home of white clapboard with black shutters, cedar shakes, and a generous porch. Mac’s black Audi A6 was parked in the circular driveway, in front of Julian’s father’s Maserati.

  Julian pulled up next to the Maserati, cut the engine, and got out. The air was warm and still because the cornfield blocked the breeze, and an American flag hung on a flagpole near the front door. Julian walked up the porch and could hear Mac and his father laughing loudly inside. His father always was a Man of the People when he was with the people, a more raucous version of himself, like a politician going for the salt-of-the-earth vote.

  Julian knocked, then Mac hollered to him to come in, and he entered the house, which was the way he remembered. The entrance hall had colonial molding, the family room was to the right, and Mac and his father were sitting across from each other on couches in front of the fireplace, smoking cigars and having a beer. Mac had aged well, perennially sunburned from golf and fishing, his shoulders still powerful, and his chest a barrel in a collared shirt. He had on golf shorts and Top-Siders.

  Both men got up, still laughing. “Julian, you made it!” his father said, grinning.

  “Hey, Dad.” Julian smiled, crossing the room.

  “Julian, get over here!” Mac grinned, the cigar between his thick fingers. “Let me see you.”

  “Hi!” Julian gave Mac a hug, then let him go. “Good to see you again, Mac.”

  “You, too, kiddo. When did you get so tall? Nice suit!”

  “Thanks.” Julian turned to hug his father, placing one hand on his arm, but with the other, he slipped a hunting knife from his pocket and plunged it into his father’s chest, burying the weapon to the hilt.

  His father’s face contorted in agony, only inches from Julian. His hands flew to the knife. He staggered backward when Julian released him.

  “Oh my God!” Julian stepped aside, so Mac could see. “Mac, get the knife out! Get the knife out!”

  “Scott?” Mac yanked the knife from Julian’s father’s chest. Blood geysered from the open wound. Mac looked at Julian with wild-eyed disbelief. “Julian! What did you do?”

  “Relax, Mac.” Julian whipped a pistol from his other pocket, aimed at Mac’s chest, and pulled the trigger.

  Boom! The gunshot was deafening. Flame spit from the muzzle.

  Mac flew backward against the couch, his eyes bulging. His shirt erupted in a burst of crimson blood. He collapsed in a heap. His head dropped to the side.

  Julian stood still, assessing the situation. Mac was dead, still bleeding from his chest. His gaze was unfocused, sightless. His jaw unhinged, his muscles slack. His body folded, unnaturally. The knife lay on the rug near his hand. So did the smoldering cigar. All the better if the house caught fire.

  Julian turned to his father. He was still alive. Blood gushed from his chest. He would bleed out soon. The skin on his face was already growing pale. He was making gurgling noises. His chest heaved rapidly. He was panting. Pinkish spittle dripped from his mouth. His eyes rolled backward. He tried to keep his head up. His horrified gaze found Julian.

  “Wha?” his father mumbled, barely understandably, but Julian couldn’t hear anyway, the gunshot ringing in his ears.

  “Dad, did you really think I believed you when you said that we’d talk about it later?” Julian went to his father’s side, speaking into his ear. “Don’t kid a kidder, right? As soon as you said you wanted to be my partner, I knew you were going to take my company. So I’m taking yours.”

  His father shook his head weakly. Blood spurted from his chest, lower than before. There was increasingly less volume for his heart to pump.

  “I knew you’d never let me run Browne, even though I’m fully capable of it. I’ve been working for you since I was little. After we talked, I knew this was my chance. And it wouldn’t come again.”

  Julian’s father kept shaking his head, wobblier now. His eyelids fluttered. Pinkish bubbles slaked his chin. Blood drenched his white shirt.

  “Almost finished, Dad. It will look like Mac stabbed you, but it won’t look like you shot him. Your fingerprints won’t be on the gun. There won’t be any residue on your hand. We have to fix that.”

  His father’s eyes went glassy. He slumped lower in the couch. He was going into shock. He paled. Blood leaked from his mouth.

  Julian placed the gun in his father’s hand, wrapped his father’s fingers around the handle, and put his father’s index finger on the trigger. Julian aimed at Mac and used his father’s finger to fire. It wasn’t easy, but it was doable.

  Boom! Julian winced from the loud blast. Another crimson burst exploded on Mac’s corpse, around the shoulder.

  Julian let the gun fall from his father’s hand. He stepped away, to watch. His father’s breathing began to slow. Bloody foam bubbled from his lips. His head dropped to the side. His legs twitched. His breathing stilled and finally ceased.

  Julian double-checked the scene. It was perfect. When the police finally came, it would look as if the two men had killed each other. The police would investigate, find that Mac worked for his father, and assume that they’d gotten into a fight while drinking. The gun couldn’t be traced to Julian. He’d bought it on the street with the serial number scratched off. The hunting knife could be bought anywhere, and he’d paid cash.

  Julian was getting the hang of this. You had to be good in an emergency—that was the key to everything.

  He didn’t need anyone’s help to kill Allie. He would do it himself.

  CHAPTER 76

  Larry Rucci

  Larry kept an eye on the dot on the screen that said ALLIE’S PHONE. He was still on the Pennsylvania Turnpike, but Allie had gone over the bridge into New Jersey and had gotten off at an exit. He couldn’t understand where she was going.

  Larry frowned, trying to figure it out. He had grown up in Clifton, in northern New Jersey, and lived his whole life in the state. He knew it well. He’d never heard Allie mention the name of anybody she knew there. Larry was dying to know what her secret was. It was almost impossible for him to believe that something that happened in high school could be that terrible, other than the fact that her sister had died, but he knew all about that.

  Larry switched into the slow lane, hoping to pass the pickup in front of him in the fast lane, who’d been ignoring him flashing his high beams. Allie was about half an hour ahead of him, and he needed to catch up. There was less traffic now that rush hour was over, and he could see the orangey lights of the bridge to New Jersey up ahead, a tall arch that made a bright arc against the night.

  Larry bit his lip, beginning to worry. He didn’t believe Allie was jerking him around. She’d sounded so certain. Determined. He’d feel better if he knew where she was going. He decided to call her and tell her he was following her. She could get mad at him, but she was the one with the big bad secret.

  Larry picked his phone off the dashboard, alarmed to see that the battery icon was on red, at eight percent. He had no idea when that happened. He looked for his car charger in the slot under the radio, but it wasn’t there. He went inside the console and felt around, then remembered that he had taken the car charger out the other day and forgotten to put it back in. And he didn’t have his extra charger because he’d packed it in his messenger bag, which was back in his hotel room.

  Shit. Larry thumbed to the phone function and pressed Allie’s picture to call her, but the call wouldn’t go through. A warning came up, telling him he didn’t have enough power to make a phone call. He thumbed to the text function, found her name, and hit the microphone icon to dictate.

  Text me where you are going, it typed, then he hit SEND.

  CHAPTER 77

  Allie Garvey

  Allie got a text alert on her phone and glanced over to see the banner on the top of the screen. It was from Larry.

  Text me where you are going<
br />
  Allie felt touched. He cared enough to ask, but she still didn’t want to tell him over the phone. She picked up the phone, scrolled to the text function, and hit the microphone icon to dictate.

  Tell you later, hope you understand, love you

  She pressed SEND and set the phone back down, traveling south in the darkness. It seemed like a pretty area, but she couldn’t see at night. Allie didn’t know much about New Jersey except her in-laws’ house in Clifton. She had no idea where she was going.

  She double-checked her GPS, but she was going the same way as the blue line. She hadn’t known that Julian had two homes. The TV news had shown a video of his beautiful stone home with outbuildings and horses in Pennsylvania. If his New Jersey home was even half as nice, it would be a palace.

  She’d know soon enough.

  CHAPTER 78

  Julian Browne

  Julian raced along the back roads. He was on a schedule, and so far, so good. He hadn’t taken long at Mac’s, and he’d arrive ahead of Allie, as he planned. He doubted she’d get there earlier than he told her to. She was a rule-follower. Fat kid Allie Gravy.

  Julian zoomed ahead, swerving this way and that, as the two-lane road went past cornfields and dog kennels. Allie wasn’t stupid, just naïve. She trusted him because she’d grown up in the same development as he did, as if geography were any guarantee of character. Sasha had thought the same thing, evidently.

  People like us don’t kill people, she had said.

  Julian shook his head, musing as he drove. Both Allie and Sasha were completely wrong. People like us do kill people, and it doesn’t matter at all if you grew up across the street from someone. It was random that Julian had grown up across from Sasha, and that the two of them had met at all. Or because he had loved her so much, maybe it was luck. Or fate. Or an Act of God.

  Julian veered left, then right, enjoying the sensation of the car hugging the turns. He didn’t believe in God, but he was starting to wonder about randomness, fate, and luck. Something was coming together in his life, especially because, since Hurricane Sandy, he was in the Act-of-God business. Every insurance policy had an Act-of-God clause, and that’s why nobody was paying off and flood insurance was so insanely expensive. Because nobody could ensure against such a thing.

  Julian whizzed by small clapboard houses, their cheap lights on within, their televisions flickering. He felt himself buzzing, thinking more clearly than ever before, all of his senses on high alert, every piston firing like a superb and powerful engine. Killing was an Act of God, after all. God was the only one entitled to give and take life, and whether the killing occurred in a hurricane or as a result of a bullet, Julian didn’t see the difference. And if you performed Acts of God, you became God. Or a god. Or at least godlike. Because he had to admit to himself, that’s how he was feeling.

  Julian breathed deeply as he drove, letting the air fill his lungs, inspired, literally. He was in the zone. He could do no wrong. Everything was falling into place. He was going to run Browne after having been trained to do it, all his life. He had everything ahead of him, and the future was limitless. All he had to do was get rid of Allie, who was driving like a lamb to the slaughter.

  Well, the butcher was ready.

  CHAPTER 79

  Larry Rucci

  Larry watched the Allie-dot turn onto Route 206 South. He was getting more worried. She would have left behind the suburban sprawl, and it would be getting more and more rural. Route 206 traveled south through the Pine Barrens, a pine and cedar wilderness in South Jersey. It was protected by the Pinelands Protection Act, so there were few buildings there except for the old farms, houses, and ranches that were grandfathered in.

  Larry accelerated, trying to make up the distance between him and Allie. He was only twenty minutes behind her, and he knew the Pine Barrens. Growing up, he used to go there with his family, walking the nature trails in the Brendan Byrne and Wharton State Forests and other areas. He’d hated those outings, being too chubby to hike comfortably. He’d suspected that’s why his parents had taken him. It was supposed to be exercise but he’d never lost any weight and would come home with ticks in his underwear.

  Larry watched Allie moving southward, through the middle of the wilderness. He wracked his brain to think of what she could be going there for. There was nothing there except for pine and cedar trees, for miles and miles. The kids in school used to joke that the Mafia buried bodies there. It was funny then, but it wasn’t funny now.

  Larry checked his phone screen. The battery icon was down to three percent. He was going to lose her any minute. He watched the Allie-dot go south, driving through Lacey Township.

  Funny, Larry and Lacy!

  Larry felt a deep stab of remorse. He knew one thing for sure. He loved his wife.

  And he wanted her back.

  CHAPTER 80

  Allie Garvey

  Allie drove in the darkness, starting to worry she was going the wrong way. She’d just come off the traffic circle from 70 East to 72 East. After a few ranches and small businesses, the area was getting denser and more forested. She was driving along a two-lane road with almost no other traffic. It was pitch dark because there were no streetlights and no ambient light.

  She put on the high beams, and they shone down the road ahead like two cones of light, but she couldn’t see beyond them. Moths and other bugs flew into her path, and one time she thought she saw a bat.

  She traveled along 72 East. The cell reception flickered off and on. She scrolled to the phone function, called Julian’s number, and figured she’d ask. There was no harm in double-checking. He’d been so upset after Sasha’s death.

  Allie held the phone to her ear, listening to it ring, but it went to voicemail and she left a message. “Hello, it’s Allie. I’m on 72 East heading for the intersection of 539 North. Sound right? Can you call me? Thanks.”

  She pressed END, replacing the phone on the holder. She checked the reception, but it had only one bar. She hoped the call would get through. She was getting the heebie-jeebies.

  She was pretty sure it had been a bat.

  CHAPTER 81

  Julian Browne

  Julian remained on the back roads, his phone to his ear. He was listening to Allie’s message, since he’d screened her call. He’d call back after he’d heard the message and figured out how to handle her. He could let nothing go wrong at this stage. He called Allie back, and she picked up immediately.

  “Julian, is that you?”

  “Yes, I got your message.” Julian moderated his tone for maximum soothing. “Don’t worry, you’re going the right way.”

  “But it’s so dark and there’s nothing here. Just woods. And in some places, no cell reception.”

  “Exactly, it’s nature.” Julian laughed. “Where are you now?”

  “I just got off of 72 East and I’m going up 539 North.”

  “Did you see the painted rock on your left yet?”

  “Not yet.”

  “You will. Then take the second right. You’ll be there in no time. I’ll be there ahead of you.”

  “But it’s in the middle of nowhere.”

  “I know, I bought a parcel from one of the old-timers. I paid a fortune because there are so few, and they’re grandfathered in under the law.” Julian was telling the truth, technically. “I’ll meet you out front because the driveway is long and I don’t want you to miss it. I’ll wave a flashlight.”

  “Good, thanks.” Allie was grateful, he could tell.

  “I picked up a salmon filet and a bottle of wine. We’ll have a good talk. It’s been an awful day for us both.”

  “It really has,” Allie said, sounding reassured. “See you soon.”

  “Drive safe.”

  “I will.”

  “Bye.” Julian pressed END.

  It was fun, playing God.

  CHAPTER 82

  Larry Rucci

  Larry glued his eyes to his cell phone, watching Allie travel up Route 539.
His battery was down to two percent power. The cell reception was spotty. And there was nobody around. No passersby, no police, no lights, no houses. Fantastic.

  His mind raced. Allie wouldn’t have realized how remote it was until she’d gotten here. The Pine Barrens were a million acres of pine and cedar forest, covering about twenty percent of New Jersey, most of it federally or state protected. Building wasn’t permitted, but the houses, ranches, and cabins built by generations past were permitted to stay. The woods included bodies of water, open-pit gravel quarries, and the old Oyster Creek Nuclear Generating Station. Few people outside the area realized how vast it was, or that patches were completely desolate.

  Larry shuddered. He knew Allie must have had no idea because he’d made it sound like an enchanted forest, telling his stories about being the fat kid on the hike. About finding a tick on his balls, which his mother had tweezed out. Allie had laughed. He’d loved to make her laugh.

  “Whoa!” Larry startled as a deer appeared at the side of the road. He swerved, then skidded on the sandy grit of the shoulder, just missing the animal. He braked reflexively. He breathed hard, his heart hammering.

  He steered back onto the road, accelerating. He had to catch up. His battery level dropped to one percent, the icon glowing a warning red in the dark interior of the Acura.

  Allie was still traveling up 539 North. There was nothing there but trees and dirt roads, most of those unmarked and unnamed. There were some houses, but they were buried in the woods. Larry knew because he had ridden ATVs there with his friends in high school.