Evil Never Dies (The Lizzy Gardner Series Book 6) (25 page)

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

Sitting across the street from the home of Scott Shaffer, number four on their list, Hayley looked through the binoculars and saw movement in the upstairs window.

She looked at the time. They had replayed what needed to be done over and over. It was supposed to take five minutes, seven tops. But Kitally had been inside the house for twelve minutes. “Hurry up, Kitally. Get in. Get out. That’s the rule.” She never should have agreed to let her handle this one, but Kitally had made it clear that she was tired of always being on the outside looking in. And besides, she was the one who knew about making bombs.

Just when Hayley thought about texting her and calling the whole thing off, she saw Kitally jump over the side gate and run across the street toward her. She jumped into the passenger seat and said, “Go!”

As they drove off, they heard an explosion. In the rearview mirror, she saw part of the roof land on the front lawn.

“I thought you said it would be a small explosion.”

“That was a small explosion.”

“His roof just came off.”

“That was two shingles at the most. It was perfect.”

“Nobody was in there, right?”

“Nobody was in there,” Kitally repeated. “Not so fun sitting in the car waiting and not knowing what’s happening, is it?”

Hayley didn’t respond.

“When they find all of those stolen goods in his place, they are going to put Scott Shaffer away for a very long time.”

Hayley could only hope. They had gone to a lot of work for this one. They had stolen Shaffer’s backpack from the backseat of his car and then taken assorted debris from his garage—everything Kitally would need to make a bomb. Tonight was the night Shaffer usually went to a club or drove the streets until he found some unsuspecting young woman to get into his car. And then he raped her and dropped her off.

“I really hope this works,” Hayley said.

“If it doesn’t,” Kitally said, “I’ll go back to sharpening knives and let you do what you do best.”

“Mind if I borrow your car for a while?” Hayley asked when she pulled up in front of the house.

“What for?”

“I just have one more thing I need to take care of.”

“Are you sure you don’t need my help?”

“Positive. This one’s mine.”

“And after this, we’re done with all of this craziness, right?”

“Absolutely.”

Hayley pulled her ski mask over her face and took out her tension wrench, worked it within the lock until she heard a click, then snuck quietly through the door. She’d been watching Nora Belle for a while now, and she knew her routine. The only thing Hayley regretted was that Nora Belle had gotten in another beating. The good news was that the man with the red hair and Naomi were able to scare the Ghost off before the old man took too many blows.

Hayley glanced at the couch, saw the Ghost’s boyfriend passed out and snoring loud enough to wake the dead. She walked slowly down the narrow hallway. The boards were creaky, but the snoring would take care of that. She eased open the door to the bedroom, and there on the bed was Nora Belle, sleeping peacefully.

After locking the door behind her, she stepped to the side of the bed and watched the Ghost sleep. Hayley pushed her sleeves to her elbows, then climbed atop her on the bed and made herself comfortable.

Nora Belle’s eyes shot open. “Who the fuck are you?”

“I’m the Phantom,” Hayley said, and then she started pummeling her, hitting Nora Belle’s face with such force and so often that very soon all she was aware of were the crunch of bone beneath her fists and the spray of blood on her face. Nora Belle bucked beneath her, but she was trapped beneath layers of sheets and blankets.

Hayley wouldn’t stop. She drew back and hit her again and again until her knuckles began to hurt.

When she at last stopped to examine her aching knuckles, Nora Belle laughed wetly beneath her. A number of her front teeth were broken. Her nose would never look the same. “Not so easy, is it?”

Hayley reached over to the bedside table, grabbed hold of a lamp, and bashed her over the head with it.

That silenced her. Finally. Hayley felt for a pulse. She was still alive.

Hayley walked into the closet, gathered all the white sneakers she could find and shoved them into a duffel bag.

Finished with the shoes, she turned about to survey her work.

Satisfied, she headed back the way she came, walked past the boyfriend, and slipped out the front door. After she delivered the shoes to the homeless, she told Naomi and friends the Ghost’s full name and where she lived. They assured Hayley they would take care of the rest. Hayley didn’t know what that meant exactly, but it was out of her hands now.

It was later than shit by the time she made it back to Kitally’s house. Tommy was sitting on the front stoop waiting for her. If not for the front light being on, she wouldn’t have known it was him.

“Where have you been?” he asked.

“Out and about.”

“Doing what?”

“Walking. Thinking. The usual. What’s up?”

“I’ve been thinking a lot about you lately, and I wanted to talk. I heard from Lizzy that you were thinking about moving away.”

“It’s true. Once I’m sure Bennett is no longer a threat to Lizzy and Kitally, I’ll start making plans.” She sat down next to him, close enough to smell a hint of soap, or maybe something more. “Are you wearing cologne?”

He ignored the question, his expression bleak. “Were you ever going to talk to me about this harebrained idea of yours to move away?”

“Sure . . . eventually I would have gotten around to it.”

He looked into her eyes and held her gaze. “You have no idea how I feel about you, do you?”

“Tommy, you wear your feelings and emotions on your sleeve. Of course I know how you feel. But here’s the problem. You have no idea who I am. I’m bad news, Tommy. I’ve done things I can never talk to you or anyone else about. Things I don’t even like to think about myself. And the thing is . . . I don’t know if I can stop, or if I want to.”

“I love you, Hayley. Whatever it is you’re going through, I want to help you.”

“I care about you, Tommy, you know I do. But whatever you think we’ve got going . . . it’s over.” She pushed herself to her feet and walked to the door. “I can’t let you into my life.”

“I know you better than you think,” Tommy said. “I know you’re all screwed up, but I’m never giving up on you, Hayley. You might not be able to see it yet, but I can. I can see the light shining out from inside of you. It’s bright. Blinding, even. Even tonight, when you first laid eyes on me, I saw it all—your strength and goodness, your compassion, your need to help others because nobody was there to help you when you needed it.”

“Go home, Tommy.”

“Sure, I’ll go.” He stood. “But if you do decide to move away, no matter where you end up, I’ll be somewhere close, waiting for you to understand that me and you are going to spend the rest of our lives together.”

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

All the girls—Hayley, Jessica, Kitally, and Brittany—had come to Lizzy’s new house to paint the baby’s room. The problem was, they wouldn’t let Lizzy help. Sniffing paint while eight months pregnant was not advised. Instead of arguing with them, Lizzy kept herself busy in the kitchen, but she made sure to check in and bark orders every once in a while just to keep them on their toes.

As she stood over the kitchen sink, she thought she saw something out of the corner of her eye. Her head snapped up, and her gaze roamed over the property. The beat of her heart accelerated. There was nothing out there.

She counted to ten.

Calm down
, she told herself.
You’re safe.

“We’re finished,” Kitally said before Lizzy could enter the baby’s room. “Where should we put these brushes?”

“Bring everything outside. I’ve set up two buckets of warm water by the faucet,” Lizzy said as she led the way. Once outside, she watched them walk single file out of the house. Every one of them had more paint on their faces and bodies than they had on their brushes. They dropped their brushes into the first bucket. Brittany worked on getting paint from the brushes while everyone else washed paint from their hands and faces using water and hand soap.

Lizzy put a hand on her belly, prompting one of them to ask, “Boy or girl? Do you know yet?”

“I have no idea,” Lizzy said. “I told the doctor I didn’t want to know ahead of time.”

“Any ideas for names?” Kitally asked.

“Not yet. But don’t worry. I won’t take as long as Salma did to come up with a name.”

“We need to hurry this along,” Hayley said, “if we’re going to get Jessica to the airport on time.”

“When are you coming back to Sacramento?” Lizzy asked Jessica.

“I’m not sure yet, but I’ll give you a call next week.”

Lizzy watched the girls and found herself smiling, relieved to think that their vigilantism had been short-lived. Nobody, including Detective Chase, ever brought up the file regarding the unnamed man with the bag over his head, leaving Lizzy to believe, or at least hope, it had been a suicide, just as she’d thought. Owen Dunham, the man who’d had his balls cut off, and Donald Holmes, the prison guard, were nowhere to be found. Holmes was a wanted man. If he ever did reappear, he would be thrown in jail, since they had searched his house and discovered he had uploaded thousands of indecent images of children on the Internet. Wallace, the first on their list to be thrown in jail, would be serving the next ten years locked up. Scott Shaffer, number four on the list, had been arrested after one of his homemade bombs was detonated. They’d found five more bombs along with detailed letters on his computer of the buildings he planned to destroy, including the state capitol. Hayley and Kitally both swore they had nothing to do with the bombing incident.
Ironic
was the word Kitally had used when Lizzy asked her about it. Hayley had responded with a shrug and nothing more. Lizzy got a different response from her when she’d asked about Nora Belle Castor, also known as the Ghost. Within twenty-four hours after Hayley had delivered the Ghost’s name and address to a group of homeless people, the girl had disappeared. Hayley swore she had no idea what had become of her.

Wayne Bennett was the only one on their list who was free to do as he pleased. His crutches slowed him down, and, according to Detective Chase, he would be undergoing an extensive and painful recovery. Even so, there would come a day when he was back to his old tricks. Grady Orwell, prosecutor and now friend, had a new plan he wanted to discuss with Lizzy, and she would be meeting with him next week.

Brittany and Jessica gave Lizzy a hug and headed for Kitally’s car.

“We didn’t hang the mobile or the pictures,” Kitally explained, “because the walls are still wet and you should probably wait for Tommy. He said he would come by next week to help.” She gave Lizzy a hug, told her to take care of herself, and then made her way to the car.

Hayley stood at Lizzy’s side. “I really don’t like the idea of you living here in the boonies,” Hayley said, “without a gun to protect yourself.”

“I still have my gun. I just want to get used to keeping it locked up where it belongs. I can’t keep it in a drawer after this baby is born.”

“I get that. But you and I both know Bennett is going to find out where you live. When that happens, you need to be armed and ready.”

“He’ll be out of commission for a while longer,” Lizzy told her. “What about Owen Dunham and Donald Holmes?”

“What about them?”

“I haven’t been able to locate either one of them. What if they decide to seek revenge against you and Kitally?”

“It’s not going to happen.”

“How do you know?”

“I just know,” Hayley said. “Let it go, and stop worrying. It’s not good for the baby.”

Lizzy gazed out toward the pond. She refused to believe Hay
ley had stepped over the line. Instead, she thought about all the barbecues and parties they would have here on her property. She would get a kayak and have someone set up a horseshoe pit. It was easy to let her imagination get away from her because in her mind’s eye, they were all here, even Jared.

Two hours after the girls had left, Lizzy stepped back, screwdriver in her hand, and wiped her brow. She took a good long look at the baby’s room. They had painted the room a beautiful powder blue. On one of the walls, Hayley had painted a tree with two shades of green leaves and a bluebird singing on a branch. She was a talented young woman. The room was perfect.

Although Lizzy had promised them she would wait for Tommy to build the mobile that attached to the crib, she’d only managed to hold off for an hour. After they all left the house, Lizzy found the tools she needed, and finished the job herself.

She wasn’t an invalid—she was pregnant.

Setting up the mobile had taken fifteen minutes.

She set the screwdriver on the dresser. Her feet sank into plush carpet as she walked to the crib. Reaching inside, she brushed her fingertips over the cotton blanket. She wound up the mobile next. Smiled when the whimsical music began to play and the tiny knit animals went around and around.

Back at the dresser, she opened the top drawers, which were filled with nighties and soft cotton T-shirts. When she looked up, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror. She’d been eating good and taking better care of herself since she learned she was pregnant. Her face was filling out again. Her cheekbones were less prominent, and the haunted expression was finally disappearing. She laid the palms of her hands on her growing belly, felt her baby kick, not once, but twice. It was still hard for her to believe Jared’s baby was growing inside her.

She picked up the photo Jessica had snuck into the room as a surprise before they all left. She knew it was Jessica because she was the one who had run back into the house at the last minute, telling everyone she’d forgotten her cell phone. The picture was of Lizzy and Jared, taken a few years ago on an exceptionally beautiful day with nothing but blue skies in the background. They were holding hands, both smiling. Jessica had taken the picture without their knowledge.

A lump caught in her throat.

She was having their baby. A baby made in love. Their child would grow up hearing stories about his or her daddy. How brave his or her daddy was. How handsome, too.

“What a touching moment.”

Her head snapped up.

A sickening jolt of awareness lit up her insides. Wayne
Bennett was standing in the doorway of the baby’s room. He wore a boot on his bad leg, but apparently he no longer needed crutches. He’d lost a considerable amount of weight. His face was a mess.

“You honestly thought you could do what you did and all would be forgiven? I thought you were smarter than that, Lizzy Gardner.”

She put the picture down, her fingers feeling around the top of the dresser for the screwdriver.

Where the hell is it?

She found it. With screwdriver in hand, she took a slow backward step toward the crib, her gaze never leaving the man in the doorway. “How did you find me?”

He tried to flash his trademark grin, but his upper lip was twisted because of a thick keloid scar that now ran across his face; his attempt to smile failed miserably. The scar ran diagonally across his face, starting at his lip and across his nose and one eye, ending at his hairline.

“I have my ways,” he said as he stepped closer. “And you must have known I never overlook unfinished business.”

“Was Miriam Walters unfinished business?”

“What do you think?”

“What did you do with her body?”

“The same thing I’m going to do with yours. Nobody will ever find you. Just think—you’ll be sparing your friends and family the price of an expensive coffin.” His eyes lit up. “And if there is an afterlife, you and Jared will be together again.” He looked at the crib beside her. “All three of you, in fact. How sweet it will be. I have a place ready for you—a nice, deep grave beneath rich, dark soil.”

He took another step toward her.

She jabbed the screwdriver in the shrinking space between them.

He chuckled. “Put that away. You’ll just hurt yourself.”

Another step toward her. He pulled a knife from his pocket and opened its short blade.

Pinned in the corner between the crib and the wall with a lousy screwdriver for a weapon, Lizzy had no illusions about her chances. Still, there was nothing for her to do but strike first. Just as he began to take his last closing step, Lizzy swept the tangled, glittering mobile hard into his face with one hand and drove the screwdriver into his arm with the other, ramming him with her shoulder as he bellowed and running past him before he could inflict any damage of his own.

The bellowing went silent as she raced for the front door. Whether the silence was good or bad she didn’t know, but she had her answer as she fought to free the door of its chain and felt a sharp, searing pain between her shoulder blades. His knife went deep. Her hands fell away from the chain and went flat against the door. An immense whoosh of breath left her as she felt him pull the knife from her flesh.

Bennett released a long satisfied sigh, like a lover might, and then she felt him begin to move again.

Her baby. She must save the baby. Dropping and wheeling, she pushed herself from the door and rolled to one side as he struck again. The blade struck hard, impaling the wood.

She found her feet and staggered away, her body already growing numb.

A weapon. She needed a weapon.

Gun and holster had been locked away. She’d made the mistake of thinking her life could be a simple one, but she’d been wrong.
Evil never dies.
Zachary Tucker’s words.

She could hear Bennett on her heels again.

As she passed the decorative cabinet in her living area, she grabbed the heavy iron statue—an elephant, its thick trunk reaching for the sky, a sign of good luck—and pivoted hard on her heels, swinging the elephant with every ounce of strength she could summon and making contact with Bennett’s left shoulder, lifting a grunt from him and sending him staggering back, an expression of surprise on his face.

The heavy cut glass vase came next, but that one he ducked.

She ran past the couch, down the hallway, and to her bedroom. She planned to lock the door, call 911—but Bennett’s reactions were faster than hers. He cut between a chair and the coffee table, dived for her, and stabbed her leg with his knife, bringing her to the ground with him.

He yanked the knife out, releasing a lance of pain from her leg and a low chuckle from Bennett. He sounded as though he was having the time of his life. He probably was, at least until she drew the knee of her good leg to her chest and kicked her heel into his chin, then delivered another swift kick to his groin.

He doubled over. Growled in pain.

All she could do was crawl away from him, leaving a bloody trail across the floor as she made her way to the kitchen.

She couldn’t feel him coming after her, but she knew it wouldn’t be long. She dragged herself across the floor, past the small wood dining table to the cabinets, straining every muscle as she tried to pull herself upward. Another inch and she could reach the top drawer where she kept the knives.

But he was coming.

She could hear him now.

She opened a different drawer instead. When he appeared, she threw everything she could at him: an apple slicer, serving spoons, and a rubber spatula.

It was no use.

Even with his bad leg, he had no problem maneuvering. He ducked and shuffled, easily dodged every utensil.

He was laughing again now, having fun with her.

With the meat tenderizer in her grasp, she caught sight of the broom leaning against the wall and the cabinets in the far corner of the kitchen.

She had explicitly told Kitally no weapons allowed in her house.

But Kitally had left the broom for her anyhow.

The girl knew about living alone. She was brilliant, and the love Lizzy felt for her in that moment was boundless.

Lizzy crawled that way, keeping the table between herself and Bennett, dragging her injured leg behind her. She must’ve made quite a picture, because he laughed again.

Keep laughing. Take your time. Toy with me, you bastard.

And he did. He let her reach the broom, let her maneuver herself until she was sitting upright on the floor, leaning against the wall for support and struggling to catch her breath. Shivering and weak, she knew she was losing the fight. Holding the broom with one hand, she placed the other on her belly and willed the baby to kick. There was no movement.

“Give it up, Gardner. It’s over.”

He stood near the sink, ten feet away.

This was it. All of her past training, everything she’d been through had brought her to this moment. She refused to be a victim. She needed to get to her feet. She had no choice. Using the broom and the wall for support, she pushed her body upward, grimacing in pain, until finally she stood tall. Their gazes never strayed from each other. “I will not let you harm my baby.”