Faceless

by Alexandra Ivy

  “And she had to die for that?”

  Sander lifted his hand in a pleading gesture. “I was desperate.”

  Wynter stepped back. Over the years she’d forgiven her grandpa for his gruff temper, his refusal to admit he might be wrong, and his habit of waving around his rifle when he was losing an argument.

  But this ...

  She would never, ever absolve him for his part in her mom’s death.

  “You were an arrogant bastard who didn’t care about anyone but yourself.”

  Next to her, Ollie chuckled, as if enjoying the tension between Wynter and the older man. “It gets worse, doesn’t it, Sander? Tell her about the money.”

  Sander clenched his teeth. “Shut up.”

  Gets worse? Her grandpa had arranged the death of her mom. How could it get worse?

  “What money?” she demanded.

  Sander glanced away, refusing to meet her gaze. “I told you. She always had her hand out. Every week she needed more and more—”

  “She wasn’t the only one who needed more,” Ollie interrupted.

  Wynter turned her attention toward the man next to her. It was obvious her grandpa wasn’t going to admit the truth. “What are you talking about?”

  “The life insurance policy that Sander convinced your dad to buy. He wanted to make sure he had enough to pay off the debts he owed on the farm.”

  Wynter’s heart forgot how to beat. Ollie had been right. This was worse. Damaged pride and embarrassment could provoke someone to strike out in anger. A momentary madness that you would later regret. But convincing her dad to purchase a life insurance policy meant that Sander had planned and plotted her mom’s death in cold blood.

  A calculating monster who took advantage of everyone around him.

  As if sensing her surge of revulsion, Sander made a sound of despair. “Debts from your mother, Wynter,” he insisted. “She had credit cards, and a new vehicle, and house payments she insisted I pay for. Of course I was in debt.”

  “It wasn’t just her debt,” Ollie taunted. “The precious Moore estate that was built by pioneers and the pride of Larkin is a money pit.”

  “It’s a family heirloom. A legacy,” the older man snarled. “Something a man like you would never understand.”

  Ollie laughed. “I’m not one of the idiots at the barbershop who believe your pathetic lies. It’s a failing patch of land in the middle of nowhere with a few scrawny cows, a couple chickens, and a house on the point of collapse. Not much of a legacy.”

  Sander flushed. Obviously he was more offended to have the failure of his precious inheritance exposed than the fact he’d been willing to kill his daughter-in-law to keep his secret.

  “We had a few bad years, that’s all,” he muttered.

  Ollie sent Wynter a triumphant glance. “Without the cash from the insurance company he would have lost everything. That’s why he wanted me to kill your mom.”

  “No,” Sander rasped, once again trying to struggle to sit up. “Don’t listen to him—”

  The beeping from the machines sent out a shrill warning as Sander tugged at the wires, and with a speed that caught Wynter off guard, Ollie leaned forward and smashed the butt of his handgun against the side of Sander’s head. He connected directly with the bandaged area where the bullet had grazed him nearly a week ago.

  With a grunt of pain, Sander fell back on the pillow, his eyes closing and the beeps fading.

  “What are you doing?” Wynter gasped, shocked by the unexpected attack.

  She shouldn’t have been. She now knew that Ollie had killed her mom, and no doubt four other people. He was a violent sociopath. But knowing the truth and accepting it were two different things.

  She’d known him for so long. How was it possible she’d never suspected that behind that shy smile was a heart of evil?

  “Keeping him quiet.” Ollie leaned over the bed rail, studying Sander’s pale face with an emotionless expression. “Hopefully he’ll die. If not, I’ll come back and finish him off.” He straightened, turning to face her. “After I’m done with you.”

  “Done with me?” Her mouth was so dry it was difficult to form the words. “What’s that mean?”

  He stepped toward her, pressing the tip of the gun against her side. “We’re going to leave the hospital. You’re going to smile and nod and convince everyone you’re delighted to be with me.” He dug the weapon into her flesh, hard enough to leave a bruise. “Got it?”

  Wynter’s thoughts were racing. A part of her knew she should scream for help. It was Survival 101 not to meekly travel to some isolated spot with the crazed madman, right? Why make it easy for Ollie? But another part of her warned her not to do anything stupid. Her grandpa might wake up and alert the cops. Or Noah could come looking for her ...

  The gun dug even deeper and she winced in pain. “Yeah, I got it.”

  Ollie put his arm around her shoulders, keeping the gun hidden as he pulled her close to his side. Anyone glancing in their direction would assume they were a couple, supporting each other during a time of stress. It was a regular sight for people entering and leaving the ICU. Still, she hoped someone would notice that Ollie was holding her just a little too close, and that his face was flushed with something Wynter assumed was excitement. The smallest distraction would hopefully give her the nerve to try and escape.

  But any chance of being noticed was dashed when he turned away from the main hallway and instead pushed through a swinging door. Moments later they were heading down the service elevator.

  Chapter 30

  Wynter struggled to breathe. The panic she’d been desperately trying to contain was thundering through her by the time they stepped out of the elevator. It was obvious that no one was going to rush to the rescue. She was on her own with a psychopath who had every reason to want her dead.

  Reaching a narrow back door, Ollie used a key she assumed he’d been given to do maintenance work. Or maybe he’d stolen it. Either way, they avoided staff and visitors as he led her to his van that was parked only a few feet away.

  Wynter released a small whimper as he opened the back of the van and shoved her into the darkness. She’d always been an optimistic person who loved life. But the thought of dying truly crystalized how urgently she wanted to survive.

  She wanted to walk into her restaurant and smell the warm bread baking. She wanted to spend the evening working in her greenhouses, gathering the plump vegetables and digging her fingers in the rich earth. She wanted to fall asleep in Noah’s arms, his soft breath brushing her face.

  She wanted to grow old, complaining that her knees ached and that the world wasn’t the same as it used to be....

  Ollie forced her past the neatly stacked tools and spare parts. Then, as they reached the mesh barrier that protected the driver from the cargo in the back, he forced her to sit on a narrow ledge.

  “Ollie, you don’t have to do this,” she breathed, her eyes wide as he efficiently grabbed a roll of duct tape and bound her wrists together. Next he ripped off a piece of tape and started to place it over her mouth. Wynter jerked back, banging her head against the side of the van. “No, please, Ollie.”

  He scowled, but perhaps sensing her panic, balled the piece of tape and tossed it aside.

  “Scream, and I’ll not only kill you, but I’ll hunt down your father and your precious boyfriend and destroy them.” He pointed the gun directly over her galloping heart. “Do you believe me?”

  “Yes.” It wasn’t a lie. She not only believed that he would kill everyone she loved, but that he’d take pleasure in doing it.

  “Good.”

  Backing out of the van, he slammed the door and she heard the jangle of keys as he turned the lock. A minute later he was climbing behind the steering wheel and starting the engine to pull out of the parking lot and turn onto a side street.

  For a petrifying moment, Wynter thought she might pass out. The fear was pounding through her, making her head spin and her breath come in shallow pan
ts. It was only the knowledge that if she lost consciousness she would never wake again that gave her the courage to battle back the looming darkness.

  She was going to survive, she told herself. Somehow, some way.

  Grimly clearing her mind, Wynter glanced toward the equipment around her. There had to be something that could help her escape. The built-in shelves were loaded with tools. At the same time, she forced herself to lean toward the metal mesh that separated her from Ollie. She had to keep him distracted. Otherwise he was going to sense she was plotting something.

  “Where are you taking me?” she demanded.

  Ollie glanced in the rearview mirror, sending her a smile that chilled her to the bone. “You’re about to have a horrible accident.” He mockingly clicked his tongue. “Such a shame.”

  “Why, Ollie? I thought we were friends.” She didn’t have to fake the tremor in her voice.

  “We are.” There was a genuine surprise in his tone, as if startled by the question. “I’ve always considered you my little sister. That’s why I agreed to get rid of your mom when Sander asked me to take care of his problem.”

  Wynter grimaced. She would never forgive her grandpa. Not for his part in killing her mom, or for choosing a mere boy to do his dirty work. Ollie was clearly mentally ill, but Sander was the one who’d pushed him over the edge.

  “I thought it was for the money,” she reminded him.

  Her gaze skimmed over the gadgets and plumbing parts on the shelves. There was nothing in easy reach that she could use as a weapon. Presumably the sharper equipment was locked in the steel toolboxes that were stacked at the back.

  Ollie turned onto the narrow access road that ran parallel to the highway. Was he worried he might get stopped by a cop? Or just avoiding traffic? Whatever the reason, Wynter found herself barely able to stay on the narrow ledge as they bounced over the crumbling cement.

  “If Sander was going to ask me to take out his trash, then he should have to pay for my services,” Ollie told her.

  An uncontrollable fury blasted through Wynter. “My mom was not trash.”

  She could see Ollie frown in the rearview mirror. “Sander made me believe she was. He told me over and over that she was putting you in danger and that it was only a matter of time before something awful happened to you.”

  Wynter swallowed her hot words. There was no point in arguing. As long as she knew in her heart that her mom had loved her, that was all that mattered. Besides, she had more important matters to concentrate on right now.

  About to demand to know if they were headed to Larkin, Wynter was abruptly flying forward as they hit a deep pothole, landing on her knees. At the same time, a plastic bucket directly across from her toppled over. She’d noticed it when they’d first pulled out of the parking lot, but it was filled with brushes and masking tape and other painting supplies. Nothing that could be a weapon. It wasn’t until it turned over that she could see the curved handle of a box cutter at the bottom.

  It wasn’t big enough to cause any damage, but it was perfect for slicing through the tape that bound her wrists together.

  Still on her knees, Wynter grabbed the cutter and swiftly hid it between her palms as Ollie slowed and glanced over his shoulder.

  “What are you doing?” he snapped.

  “Trying to keep my balance.” Wynter awkwardly pushed herself back onto the ledge, sliding her hands between her legs. Ollie continued to slow the van, as if considering the idea of stopping to make sure she hadn’t managed to get ahold of a hammer or screwdriver. “Did you follow my mom when she went to Pike that last weekend?” she hastily asked.

  She sensed in the hospital that Ollie was aching to reveal how clever he’d been. There hadn’t been the least amount of guilt when he’d admitted he’d been the one responsible for killing her mom. He’d gotten away with murder for years, but he hadn’t been able to share his secret.

  Now he was eager to display his cunning.

  Ollie studied her expression, as if searching for whether she was truly interested or just trying to divert him. Then, seemingly satisfied, he returned his attention to the road and pressed down the accelerator.

  “Yes, I followed her,” he admitted. “And Sander was right.”

  Wynter breathed a silent sigh of relief, covertly turning the cutter until the blade was pressed against the edge of the tape.

  “Right about what?”

  “Your mom did dump you on your grandmother’s porch and raced off to the cabin to be with the next-door neighbor.”

  Wynter didn’t allow herself to think about her mom and Drake Shelton indulging their passions. It was in the past. Nothing mattered but this moment. And staying alive.

  “Did you spy on them?” she asked, sawing the blade up and down with light strokes. The last thing she wanted was to slice open her wrist.

  “I kept an eye on the cabin. That’s where I intended to . . .” His words trailed away before he shrugged. “You know.”

  Wynter clenched her teeth. She had to concentrate on the blade. Up and down. Up and down. One fraction of an inch at a time.

  “Why didn’t you kill her there?” she forced herself to ask.

  Ollie snorted. “Her lover barely left her side to take a piss the whole time they were together.” He paused, tilting back his head so she could see the sly smile that curved his lips. “Plus I wasn’t the only one watching.”

  Wynter jerked in shock, nearly dropping the cutter. The cabin was too isolated for a stray Peeping Tom to wander by.

  “Are you serious?” she blurted out.

  “Dead serious.” He swerved to avoid something in the road, then his gaze returned to the rearview mirror. “Ask me who was there.”

  Wynter didn’t want to. She’d been forced to see the worst in people she loved and trusted. Her mom. Her dad. Her grandpa. She didn’t want to discover the dark motives of anyone else.

  Unfortunately, she had to keep Ollie talking. Even if it did cause her more pain.

  “Who was there?”

  “A woman.”

  Wynter frowned, pressing the blade harder against the stubborn tape. The stuff was like slicing through steel.

  “What woman?”

  “I didn’t know at the time, but turns out it was the lover’s wife. I watched her pull into the next-door driveway while I waited for your mom to pick you up from your grandmother’s house.”

  “Mona Shelton?”

  “Yep.”

  Wynter shivered. She should probably have felt sad for the woman. How awful to spend your nights following a husband who was obsessed with someone else. But catching Ollie’s watchful gaze in the mirror, her stomach clenched with premonition.

  Mona Shelton wasn’t the only one at the cabin.

  “Who else?”

  He chuckled, pleased with the harsh edge in her voice. “You know.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Think, Wynter.”

  She didn’t want to play his sick game. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. But she didn’t dare make him angry. There was every possibility he would simply turn around and shoot her in the head.

  “My dad,” she muttered.

  “Good,” he said in satisfaction.

  “What was he doing there?” Wynter lowered her head, as if trying to hide her expression. It gave her the opportunity to see how far she’d managed to cut.

  Over halfway.

  “Peeking through the windows like a pervert,” Ollie taunted. “I had to climb a tree to keep from being seen when he showed up. Nearly froze my balls off before he finally left.”

  Wynter refused to think about her dad taking his secretary to a hotel in Pike so he could spy on his wife who was in bed with another man. And Ollie lurking in the dark, like a grim reaper waiting to strike.

  It was all so sad and twisted and horrible.

  “You followed my mom to my grandma’s house after she left the cabin?” She prompted Ollie to continue his story.

  They were o
nly a few miles from Larkin. She needed her hands free before they got there.

  “Yes. I was afraid I’d missed my opportunity.” He shook his head, as if disappointed in his inability to pull the trigger. “I knew Sander would be furious. But then Laurel stopped to get gas. Bingo. I was back in business.”

  “How could you, Ollie? She was my mother.”

  “I told you. I was convinced that she was a bad woman,” he said, his tone devoid of emotion. He might have been discussing a bug he’d been forced to squash.

  Thankfully he didn’t notice her distraction as she concentrated on cutting through the last of the tape.

  “Sander told me. He said she did perverted things with men and even women. And that she was drinking too much, and that he suspected she was doing drugs. He said you would turn out just like her if we didn’t get rid of her.” He paused, as if savoring the memory of shooting an unarmed woman who’d never done a thing to hurt him. Then he heaved a loud sigh. “Of course, I am sorry you were there, Wynter. I was sloppy. It was never my intention for you to see your mother die.”

  She didn’t believe his pretense of regret. It might not have been his intention to kill Laurel in front of her small child, but a part of him no doubt reveled in the idea that there’d been someone to watch his moment of glory. She wasn’t going to tell him that she’d been asleep until he’d fired his weapon ...

  Wait. A sudden realization slammed into her. There’d been someone else at the gas station to observe his evil deed.

  “Someone witnessed the murder, didn’t they?” she abruptly asked.

  “Very good, Wynter,” he sounded surprised. “You always were a clever girl.”

  “Did Tillie recognize you?”

  “No, I had enough sense not to show my face in Pike.”

  “Then why kill her?”

  There was a long silence. As if Ollie was reluctant to admit his blunder. “Because I was stupid enough to park on the curb next to the station,” he finally admitted. “A rookie mistake, but then, I was a rookie.”

  Wynter frowned in confusion. “That’s it? You parked next to the station?”