‘Not quite what I had in mind though.’ She gave him a reassuring smile. ‘We could always come back to that option, of course. I’m sure that, resorting to your methods, we could easily make your death look like a suicide. And given your nefarious activities, I should imagine the police wouldn’t be at all surprised you’d taken your own sad little life rather than face the consequences.’
‘Right.’ Richard’s smile was now openly scornful. ‘And you have proof of these nefarious activities, do you?’
Rebecca nodded thoughtfully. ‘Enough, I think,’ she said, glancing nonchalantly from him to the door as Peter came in.
‘Ah, here he is.’ Richard looked Peter over with derision as he walked across to Rebecca without even acknowledging him. ‘Becky’s little lapdog, jumping to his mistress’s command. Will she reward you with a treat when this is over, Peter?’ he asked, his voice loaded with contempt. ‘A pet or a stroke? A blow job, perhaps?’
Despite his visible anguish when he’d read the letter she’d found in the shoebox, Peter’s expression didn’t alter as he handed Rebecca Nicole’s last two letters, but she couldn’t fail to notice the thunder in his eyes as he turned away, heading towards Richard, who watched him with arrogant amusement.
Pausing in front of him – at which Richard looked marginally perplexed – Peter studied him for a second. ‘Don’t,’ he said, without inflection, his hand darting out before Richard could blink. ‘Just don’t.’ Gripping his throat hard, he pressed his fingers into the wound he’d already inflicted. ‘The only thing standing between you and me right now is Rebecca. If one more derogatory comment spills from your mouth, I will kill you.’ He squeezed harder and Richard winced. ‘And trust me, I will take great pleasure in doing it slowly.’
After giving his throat one last squeeze, causing Richard to gag, he released his hold, nodded politely in Rebecca’s direction and walked calmly back to the door.
‘I think Peter has issues with keeping you alive, Richard,’ Rebecca informed him. ‘Namely, that you murdered Nicole, whom he loved very much, and that you ruined his son’s life without compunction. I wouldn’t recommend provoking him, if I were you.’
Noting the fresh trickle of blood dripping onto his shirt, Richard’s demeanour was somewhat ruffled, at last. ‘I didn’t,’ he said, his voice hoarse, a hint of something near regret in his eyes as he looked back at her. ‘Nicole. I told you, I didn’t…’
‘These say differently.’ Walking across to him, Rebecca held up the letters in front of him. ‘Nicole and I kept in touch. Frequently,’ she said, enlightening him of a fact he plainly hadn’t been aware of.
A disdainful look now in his eyes, Richard dragged his gaze away.
‘Read them.’ Rebecca cautioned herself not to react.
‘Or else?’ Richard challenged her, that conceited fucking smile playing at his mouth, humour dancing in his eyes.
Rebecca stood no chance. ‘I said read them!’ Her anger spewing over, she slapped his face hard. How dare he? How dare he imagine he still had the upper hand. That he could dismiss Nicole’s last words so carelessly.
Meeting her furious gaze with an incensed one of his own, Richard seemed to debate and then reluctantly dropped his attention to the letters.
At length, he looked back at her. ‘This isn’t proof,’ he said, a flicker of remorse clouding his eyes, Rebecca detected. ‘She was depressed, imagining things, half out of her mind. Her GP will—’
‘Where you drove her!’ Rebecca screamed over him. Bastard. Incredulous, she stared hard at him, and then backed away before she was tempted to stop the lies spilling from his mouth once and for all.
Stay in control. This is what he wants, she warned herself, attempting some degree of composure. This was a game to him. If he knew he was getting to her, if he saw that he’d rattled her, then he would consider it a win. To achieve what she wanted, she had to think like him, be as devoid of emotion as him. Instil fear in him. He had to know she was serious. Deadly.
Calmer, after a moment, she pulled her phone from her jeans pocket, selected the audio file she’d recorded of Olivia masterfully acting the victim of incest, which Peter had transferred, and pressed play.
Richard listened, unmoved at first by Olivia’s tearful revelations, and then his eyes darkened to grey, his jaw tightening as he undoubtedly considered where this might be leading. ‘It’s bullshit,’ he sneered, when Rebecca paused at an appropriate juncture. ‘She’s—’
‘Not your daughter,’ Rebecca finished, as he scanned her face warily. ‘I know. I know all of it, Richard. Every despicable thing you’ve done, all corroborated by your lover and accomplice.’ She didn’t. She was bluffing now, but he wouldn’t know that. ‘The women – how many and why: for money, for kicks, for power. Ultimate control over women. You tortured them and finally murdered them, which fuelled your depraved sexual desires.’
‘I didn’t murder anyone.’ Richard’s face was a shade whiter. ‘None of this proves I did.’
Rebecca didn’t comment. She wanted to rip his heart out.
He looked away and back again. ‘Is that what passed between us? Depraved sex?’ he asked, his tone curious – and tinged with sadness, Rebecca could hardly believe.
She simply looked at him. What did he really expect her to say? It was great? Hot? Let’s just forget about the dead bodies and pick up where we left off?
‘Why did you try to save her? After you pushed her, why did you go in after her?’ she asked, wanting to know, needing to know. It would have all been over for him, if Nicole had survived.
‘I didn’t push her. She slipped!’ Richard held her gaze briefly. ‘I… can’t feel my arms.’ His voice was strained. He was clearly in some discomfort.
‘Why?’ Rebecca appealed to him. ‘For God’s sake, Richard—’
‘She was pregnant!’ Richard shouted. ‘She didn’t tell me.’ He looked back at her, genuine pain in his eyes. ‘She would have made a good mother. She… she should have told me.’
Rebecca watched, stunned, as he bowed his head. He’d wanted children? Dear God, he actually believed he was capable of being a father.
‘Do you realise how much that child would have meant to her?’ she started quietly. ‘How long she’d wanted to have a child? How desperate she’d been after her baby died? Have you any comprehension of what you put her through?’
‘Baby?’ Richard’s gaze snapped back up. ‘She didn’t mention anything about losing—’
‘Can you imagine what must have gone through her mind, as she sank into that dark, lonely grave?’ Rebecca seethed, fury unfurling dangerously inside her. ‘Can you? Can you conceive for one second how she must have felt, knowing her baby would drown with her? You callous…’
Gulping back tears of rage, Rebecca turned away. Evil. He was evil personified.
‘So, what do you intend to do?’ Richard said, after a pause, during which Rebecca attempted to rein in her spiralling emotions.
Tugging in a tight breath, Rebecca faced him. ‘We’re changing the rules, Richard,’ she said impassively. ‘Now we’re going to play by my rules.’
‘What?’ Richard’s expression was a mixture of uncertainty and incredulity.
Rebecca kept her eyes locked firmly on his, hoping he would see she meant business. He’d better see she meant business. ‘You will transfer all the proceeds of your activities into my account. Where we go from there, I haven’t decided yet.’
His eyes narrowing to slits, Richard studied her. ‘You mean you’re doing this for the money?’ He laughed in disbelief.
‘All of it,’ Rebecca said, walking to the door. ‘Every last penny. And remember,’ she said, glancing back over her shoulder, ‘you don’t have any other choice.’
‘Don’t I?’ Richard stopped her. ‘The thing is, Rebecca, I don’t care if I die,’ he said, his tone indifferent. ‘I’ve been searching all my life for something that, to me, seemed elusive. I thought I’d found it. And now… I don’t care any more. Do
n’t you see? Your threats mean nothing to me.’
Shit. Rebecca cursed. The upper hand, she reminded herself – he would always strive to have that, to take back control. It was who he was: a dysfunctional man who couldn’t bear to be controlled. ‘I think you do, Richard. You’re calling my bluff, and it won’t work,’ she said. ‘I’ll leave you to think about it: how you’ll really feel when you know you’re about to breathe your last breath.’
Flicking off the light – hoping that might help focus his thoughts – she reached for the door.
‘No!’ Richard said urgently behind her, causing her to jump. ‘The light… I…’ He stopped, leaving Rebecca bemused, until the penny dropped.
She almost laughed out loud. He was scared! Of the ghosts that might come back to haunt him? She very much doubted that. Of the dark. He was scared of the dark. He’d wanted to see her. I want to see you… Let me see you, he’d said. The first time they’d made love, he’d switched on the light. She’d been uncomfortable for the briefest of seconds, until he’d stilled her nerves with his reassuring words, his mouth possessing hers.
He didn’t like closed-in spaces, intimate restaurants. He was claustrophobic.
She had him.
Kindly, she reached to turn the light back on. ‘Don’t take too long debating your options, Richard,’ she suggested. ‘Peter has a plan for you, should you decide you don’t want to play things my way. I’m not sure you’d be quite so blasé, buried in some small, dark space… alive… would you?
SIXTY-TWO
OLIVIA
PRESENT
‘What will you do with me?’ Sitting on her bed and wringing her hands wretchedly, Olivia eyed Zach’s father with trepidation.
He said nothing, looking impassively at her from where he stood in front of the door, his arms folded across his chest like something out of The fucking Bodyguard. Was that supposed to intimidate her?
The truth was, Olivia was petrified. The man hadn’t taken his eyes off her since that sluttish cow had delighted in delivering the news that Richard was bargaining for his freedom, and in so doing was trying to convince them that she’d somehow manipulated him. Uncertain of how much she was bluffing, Olivia had to admire her cool. She was obviously an amateur compared to enigmatic Rebecca, the master of manipulation.
‘It’s all lies,’ she said tearfully. ‘The things Richard’s saying about me, they’re not true.’
Peter continued to stare stonily at her, causing a fresh wave of panic to clutch at her insides.
‘He used me!’
His expression unflinching, still he said nothing.
Olivia’s stomach twisted. ‘He sexually abused me!’ She spelled it out for him, since he clearly wasn’t moved. ‘I was just a child. He used to come into my room. When he was married to my mother, he—’
‘He raped you?’
Olivia faltered. ‘Yes.’ She wetted her dry lips with her tongue. ‘The first time—’
‘Like Zach?’ he said flatly, his eyes hostile behind his deceptive Mr Nice Guy glasses.
Olivia felt hope sink like a lead weight in her chest. ‘He told me to do that.’ Perspiration prickling her skin, she looked desperately at him. ‘He made me… to ruin Nicole’s wedding day. He said if I didn’t—’
‘It worked.’ The man’s tone was still emotionless.
‘I couldn’t stop him. I couldn’t stop him doing any of it. He’s too strong. I tried to warn Rebecca and he almost strangled me,’ Olivia blundered on, attempting to elicit some degree of sympathy. ‘I tried to tell Nicole. I—’
‘You should know that he’s saying it was you who pushed her,’ he said quietly, cocking his head to one side as he studied her.
Fear pierced Olivia’s heart like an icicle. He was making it up, trying to shift blame from himself, hoping for a lesser sentence. That wasn’t likely. Richard knew it. He must know that no one would believe him. How could they? How could anyone imagine that she – a sweet, innocent young thing – would do anything so abhorrent, unless mercilessly corrupted by him? How could he do this? Did he honestly feel so little for her that he would see her grow old, her beauty fading as she spent the rest of her life behind bars? She choked back a sob, feeling more alone than she’d ever felt in her life.
‘It’s bullshit,’ she said, real tears squeezing from her eyes to roll down her cheeks. ‘I was nowhere near her. He did it! He was there, not me!’
‘He also says you pushed her mother to her death,’ Peter added matter-of-factly. ‘Did you get a kick out of it, I wonder? Killing a frail old woman? Driving Nicole to the brink of madness? Murdering her? Did you get off on it?’
‘No!’ Olivia blurted, desperation climbing inside her. ‘I didn’t. I didn’t like it, the things he did to me. I wanted a normal relationship!’
This was getting her nowhere. She could slash her wrists in front of him and he wouldn’t blink.
They hadn’t tied her hands, restrained her in any way, probably hoping she would. Shakily, Olivia wiped the tears from under her eyes, pulled her hair back and got to her feet. ‘A loving relationship,’ she said, more softly, ‘with a normal man.’
Walking towards him, she smiled tremulously and reached out to trail a hand down his cheek. ‘Please let me go,’ she said. ‘I’ll do anything. Rebecca needn’t know. You could say I slipped out while you went to the bathroom.’
His mouth curving into a slow smile, his gaze strayed to her lips. Olivia closed her eyes, relief coursing through her veins. ‘Anything at all,’ she breathed seductively, her hand straying lower.
Peter caught it, clamping his hand around her wrist like a vice. ‘I can’t imagine a time when I would be desperate enough to go anywhere near something like you,’ he snarled, looking at her as if she’d crawled out from under a stone.
Shit! Olivia stumbled back as he released her. ‘You’re all the same!’ she screamed. ‘Bullies, all of you!’
He shook his head.
‘I’ll kill myself!’ she threatened. ‘I will! I’ll throw myself out of the window!’
Peter glanced over his shoulder as the sound of a door opening and closing downstairs echoed through the house.
Turning back to her, his smile this time was heartless. ‘Make sure you miss the pool,’ he said, turning calmly to walk out of the room.
SIXTY-THREE
RICHARD
PRESENT
She was bluffing. Richard studied her face as her accomplice worked to free his hands. Her expression was impassive, her gaze hard as steel. Christ Almighty, she really meant it. Surely she hadn’t planned all this from outset: chosen him, the way he’d chosen his victims? That first time she’d met him at Nicole’s funeral, had she been plotting then, whilst playing the role of the grieving friend? Was it possible that she was just like him? Richard almost laughed at the irony of his situation. They could have made a great partnership. Not now though. Not with her little lapdog in tow. They would want it all: everything he’d ever worked for.
‘Up,’ Peter instructed, having finally managed to untie the rope. She was on to a loser with this incompetent prat. Maybe he should enlighten her to that fact, but possibly not now. Seeing the murderous intent in the man’s eyes, Richard fancied he might do better to keep his observations to himself.
‘I said up!’ Peter repeated, clutching a handful of his shirt and attempting to drag him to his feet, which was monumentally irritating.
Richard shook his head, unimpressed. ‘Do you think I could have a minute?’ he asked, wincing as the blood returned to his arms like a thousand burning needles.
‘No.’ Peter smiled flatly and shoved a hand under his arm, physically heaving him up, which hurt like fuck. His shoulder hadn’t fared too well the first time he’d aggressively manhandled him. Quiet, inoffensive Peter was plainly the reactive sort, under the surface, not capable of restraining himself – as evidenced by the wound in his neck, which he’d needlessly inflicted. Definitely a man with issues. No sooner had he managed to get
unsteadily to his feet than Peter was yanking his arms behind his back to retie them, which was also extremely painful.
‘Are you seriously considering a future with him?’ Richard asked Rebecca, unable to believe that she would choose this weak specimen over him.
Rebecca smiled that enigmatic smile she had. Combined with her hitherto hidden qualities, it really did make her enticingly attractive.
Richard smiled sadly back. ‘Good luck with that,’ he said quietly.
Rebecca dipped her head, as if appreciating the sentiment. An enigma, most definitely. One Richard would like to have explored further. C'est la vie. He sighed and shrugged, trying to ignore the wrench in his gut as he thought of the last time they’d made love together. And it had been lovemaking – for him anyway – which had been a novel experience.
Quashing his urge to verbalise what he thought of Peter, he allowed the man to steer him around and shove him towards the door, rather too strenuously.
Giving him a demonstrative shove every other step towards the house was uncalled for, Richard thought, but refrained from pointing out. Already contending with the various injuries he’d sustained at the man’s hands, and with nausea still sweeping through him, it would possibly be a bad move to give his persecutor cause to inflict more damage.
‘So, what now?’ he asked, struggling to maintain his footing as Peter kindly ‘assisted’ him through the patio doors.
‘Now we make the transfers,’ Rebecca said, nodding towards the dining area, where his laptop, he found, once guided there, was already set up on the table. She’d been certain he would do this then? Of course she had. What alternative did he have?
‘Small problem,’ Richard said.
Rebecca eyed him with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. She was good, he conceded, wondering how she’d ever managed to look at him with such affection in her eyes when she so clearly despised him.
‘I won’t be able to do much with my hands tied,’ he pointed out.
‘Nice try.’ She smiled wryly and led the way to the table. ‘You talk; I type. And don’t try to pull the wool over my eyes, Richard. I’m not stupid.’
The Second Wife Page 28
