The Liar (43 page)

“And how far would I get before you called your cop brother?” As they stepped out of the house, he put an arm tight around her waist, pressed the gun into her side. “We’re going to walk down a little bit, take my car. A minivan, Shelby? You’re an embarrassment to me.”

That tone, that pitying tone. How often had she heard it? “I’m nothing to you, never was.”

“Oh, you were so useful.” He pressed a kiss to her temple, made her shudder. “And at first, hell, you were even fun. God knows you were eager in the sack. This one. Get in, climb over. You’re going to drive.”

“Where are we going?”

“A little place I know. Quiet. Private. It’s just what we need for a heart-to-heart.”

“Why aren’t you dead?”

“You’d like that.”

“I swear on all that’s in me, I would.”

He shoved her into the car, forcing her to crawl over to the driver’s seat.

“I never did anything to you. I did what you wanted, went where you wanted. I gave you a child.”

“And bored the crap out of me. Drive, and keep it to the speed limit. You go over, you go under, I’ll shoot you in the gut. It’s a painful way to die.”

“I can’t drive if I don’t know where I’m going.”

“Take the back roads around that hole-in-the-wall you call a town. Try anything, Shelby, I’ll take you out, then I go after the kid. I’ve got too much at stake, and I’ve worked and waited for it too long to let you fuck it up.”

“You think I care about the jewelry, the money? Take it and go.”

“Oh, I will. First thing Monday morning. If you hadn’t come into the bedroom, you’d never have known I was there. As it is, we’ll have a reunion weekend, then I’m gone. Just do what you’re told, like always, and you’ll be fine.”

“They’ll look for me.”

“And they won’t find you.” Sneering, he pressed the barrel of the gun into her side. “Jesus, you stupid bitch, do you think I’ve outwitted the cops all this time and can’t keep ahead of a bunch of Barney Fifes for a day? Take this turn coming up, to the right. Nice and easy.”

“Your partner’s been around. Jimmy Harlow. Maybe he’ll have better luck finding you.”

“I don’t think so.”

His tone froze her blood.

“What did you do?”

“Found him first. Steady on these switchbacks. I wouldn’t want this gun to go off.”

Her insides quaked, but she kept her hands steady as she negotiated the tight wind of the climb.

“Why did you marry me?”

“It served my purpose at the time. I never could smooth you out, though, never could make anything out of you. Listen to you, look at you, I gave you plenty of money, taught you how to buy the right clothes, how to give a decent dinner party, and you’re still the ignorant hick from the Tennessee hills. It’s amazing I haven’t bashed what brains you have out before now.”

“You’re a thief and a swindler.”

“That’s right, honey.” His sneer shifted to a cheerful grin. “And I’m damn good at it. You? You’ve never been good at anything. Take this excuse for a road on the left. Nice and slow now.”

He might’ve thought her ignorant, useless, malleable, but she knew the hills. And had a reasonable idea where they were going.

“What happened in Miami? All those years ago,” she asked, wanting to keep him talking, distract him as she slid her left hand into her pocket.

“Oh, we’ll talk about that. We’ve got a lot of things to talk about.”

Texting while driving, she thought, struggling not to give way to hysteria, was dangerous.

She hoped to God she managed to do it right.

Because while she knew the hills, she thought she knew the man beside her now. And she believed he meant to kill her before he was done.

T
he country-dark road twisted like a snake as it climbed, and gave her an excuse to ease off the gas. She let the fear show—no point in pride—and the show of fear could be another weapon. Or at least a shield, she thought, as she slipped her hand into her pocket, and prayed she could manage a coherent message.

“Why didn’t you just run?”

“I don’t run,” he said with that same self-satisfied smile on his face. “I navigate. You were just what I needed to make my new ID solid after the Miami job. It didn’t take me long to realize you’d be useless on the grift, but you made for a good temporary cover.”

“Nearly five years, Richard?”

“I never figured to keep you around that long, then you got knocked up. I think on my feet,” he reminded her. “Who’s going to look for a family man, a man with a hick wife and a baby? And I had to wait for the take to cool down. And for Melinda to get out. She made a hell of a deal—you have to give her credit. I’d thought she’d get double what they gave her, and that would’ve been plenty of time for cooling off and covering my tracks. But she always could surprise me.”

“You killed her.”

“How could I? I’m dead, remember? Make this right. Nearly there.”

Nothing back here, she thought, but a couple of cabins—at least that’s all there’d been when she’d left the Ridge.

She hit Send—she hoped—because she had to put her left hand back on the wheel.

“But you’re not dead, and you killed her.”

“And who are the assholes looking for over it? Jimmy. I’m in the clear. I’m going to stay in the clear. And when I pick up what’s mine Monday morning, I’ll be in the clear with millions. Long-range plans, Shelby, take a lot of patience. This one cost me a little more than a year for each five million. That’s a damn good deal in the world of big pictures. Pull up right beside that truck.”

“Who else is here?”

“Nobody now.”

“My God, Richard, whose place is this? Who did you kill?”

“An old friend. Turn off the car, hand me the keys.” Once again, he jabbed with the barrel of the gun. “You’re going to sit where you are until I come around for you. Try anything—anything—I’ll put a bullet in you. Then I’ll go get Callie. I know people who’d pay a premium for a pretty girl her age.”

She hadn’t known he could sicken her even more. “She’s your child. She’s your blood.”

“Do you actually think I care?”

“No.” Her hand was back in her pocket, frantically tapping. “I don’t think you care about anything or anyone. And there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to keep Callie safe.”

“Then what’s left of the weekend should be easy on both of us.”

She considered locking the doors when he got out, just to give herself more time to send the next message. But it would only spike his temper. It had to be better to make him believe she was utterly helpless.

It wasn’t too far from the truth.

When he came around, opened her door, she got out compliantly.

“Here’s our little home away from home.” He used a penlight to shine a thin beam, showing the way to a small cabin, roughly built.

Her shoes crunched on the short gravel walk leading to a sagging front porch. A couple of old chairs, a rickety table. Nothing she could see that could be used as a weapon.

He dropped the penlight back in his pocket, handed her a key.

“Unlock the door.”

She did what she was told, and at the prod of the gun, stepped off the dark porch into the dark cabin. She jolted when he turned on the light—couldn’t help herself. It came yellow and dull from the globes on a wagon wheel dropped from the pitched ceiling.

“I call it the Hickville Dump. It’s not much, but it’s ours. Sit down.”

When she didn’t move fast enough he shoved her toward a chair of red-and-green plaid. She caught herself, turned to sit, and saw the blood on the floor, smears of it leading to a closed door.

“Yeah, you’re going to clean that up, then I’ve got a shovel with your name on it. You’re going to bury Jimmy, save me the sweat.”

“All of this for money?”

“It’s always the money.” The excitement, the light that had first drawn her to him, beamed out. But she saw it now for what it was. Hard and false.

“It’s always the money,” he repeated, “but it’s the ride, too. It’s knowing you’re the smartest one in the room, no matter what fucking room. It’s knowing if you want it, you can take it.”

“Even if it belongs to someone else.”

“Especially, you moron, if it belongs to someone else. That’s the ride. I’m going to grab a beer.” He sent her a wide smile “Get you something, honey?”

He backed into the tiny open kitchen when she said nothing.

So sure she was paralyzed, she thought, he didn’t even bother to restrain her. She kept her hands clenched together in her lap, the knuckles white. But it was as much a rising fury as fear now.

The lamp, she thought, the one on the table with the black bear hunched by the trunk of a tree. It might be heavy enough if she could get her hands on it.

There’d be knives in the kitchen.

She imagined the Winchester rifle over the fireplace was unloaded. But maybe not.

And there was an engraved plate on the stock that read “William C. Bounty.”

She relaxed her fingers, started to slide her hand toward her pocket, let it lie still again when Richard walked back, sat across from her.

“Isn’t this cozy?”

“How did you do it? How did you survive the boating accident?”

“Surviving’s what I do. Melinda was getting out. I didn’t count on Jimmy busting out, complicated things a bit. I didn’t think he had that in him. But Melinda, I knew she’d be a problem. She always was a dog with a bone, just never let go, so she’d need to be dealt with before I cashed in.”

He settled back, obviously relaxed. “I always figured on the five years—and it was close enough. So . . . a little vacation with the fam, tragedy strikes, and I’d be off the grid again.”

“We’d have been with you if Callie hadn’t gotten sick.” When his eyes gleamed, understanding struck her with true horror. “You were going to kill us. You were going to kill your own baby.”

“Young family’s holiday vacation ends in tragedy. It happens.”

“You couldn’t have gotten away with it. If the authorities hadn’t hunted you down, my family would have.”

“Not if I died trying to save you. It should’ve played out that way. I’d have spent a couple days painting us as a happy little family—people tend to believe what they see. Good-looking couple, pretty little girl. Then we’d make a day of it on the boat. Go out far enough, get some wine in you, wait until dusk.”

He took a slow sip of beer, smiled at her. “I toss the kid over, and it’s easy money you’d go right over after her. I wouldn’t have to put a mark on either one of you.”

“You’re a monster.”

“I’m a winner. I’d scuttle the boat, get my scuba gear. With my new ID and a change of clothes in a waterproof pouch, I’d have made it to Hilton Head in a few hours. Which is what I did—without you along.”

“The squall.”

“Unexpected bonus.”

“You could’ve died out there. Why risk dying?”

“You don’t get it, never will.” He leaned toward her, that light glowing again. “That’s the
point
, that’s the rush. All I had to do was dump the tanks, catch a cab and pick up the car I had waiting in long-term parking at the airport. Drive to Savannah and my drop box there. Wouldn’t have needed that if I damn could have found the key for my box in Philly.”

He watched her while he took another sip of beer. “You got into that. Where was the key?”

“In the pocket of your leather jacket, the bronze one I gave you for your birthday two years back. It had gone through a little hole and into the lining of the jacket.”

“Well, son of a bitch.” He gave a half-laugh, shook his head as he might over a missed putt on the green. “That key would have saved me some time and trouble. Either way, I’m dead. The way it turned out, you got to play the grieving widow for a while. How did that suit you?”

“I wish it had been true.”

He laughed, toasted her with his beer. “Coming back to the boonies brought some of that sass back. Let’s see if a little housework knocks it back out of you.” He rose, went back in the kitchen.

When he picked up a bottle of bleach and a scrub brush, she got to her feet.

“You want me to clean up the blood?”

“You’re going to clean up the blood, unless you want to clean up your own along with it.”

“I can’t—”

He swung out with the back of his left hand, quick as a snake, striking her across the cheekbone hard enough to send her stumbling back and into the chair again.

She didn’t know why the blow shocked her, now that she knew him. Really knew him. But he’d never hit her before.

“God! I’ve wanted to do that for
years
!” The furious pleasure on his face iced her blood. He could, and would, do more than knock her down if she bucked him. Even as he stepped toward her, she held up a trembling hand.

And again it was more rage than fear.

But she let only the fear show. “I just meant I need a bucket. I need a bucket of water and—and a mop. I can’t get it cleaned up with just the bleach and a brush. That’s all I meant. Please, don’t hurt me.”

“Why the fuck didn’t you say so?”

She let her head hang, and thinking of never seeing Callie again, her family, never seeing Griff, let tears come.

Let him see the tears, she thought, let him think that’s all that’s in me.

“You start sniveling, I’ll give you worse than a love tap. Go find a damn bucket. Make a move I don’t like, you
will
be mopping up your own blood.”

She went into the kitchen, scanning, scanning. No knife block, but surely there was a knife in a drawer. And there was a good cast iron skillet still on the stove, and a coffeepot. Filled with hot coffee that would make a weapon.

She looked under the sink, considered her options there, then in a skinny closet. There she found a broom, mop, bucket. Some old cord, some rusty chain, butane lighter fluid, bug spray.

She considered grabbing the bug spray, aiming for his eyes with that as the pepper spray was in the purse she’d left in her car. But he was nearly on top of her.

She took out the mop, the bucket, filled the bucket with hot soapy water.

She carted it over to the largest smear of blood.

“I need to use the bathroom.”

“Hold it,” he advised.

“I’ll do what you tell me to do. I just want to get through this, Richard, but I need to use the bathroom.”

He narrowed his eyes. She kept her gaze downcast, her shoulders slumped.

“Right there. Door stays open.”

“If you won’t give me privacy, at least don’t look at me.”

She walked to the tiny bathroom—razors maybe in the old medicine cabinet? A window too small for her to wiggle through if she had the chance.

She put the seat down on the toilet while he hovered in the doorway.

“Just don’t look at me!” She let out a choked sob. “The door’s open, you’re standing right there. I’m just asking you not to watch me. For God’s sake.”

He leaned against the jamb, cast his eyes up to the ceiling. “Awful dainty for someone one step up from an outhouse.”

She smothered her sensibilities, lifted her skirt, pulled down her panties. And shot her hand in her pocket.

Please God, if you’re listening, let this make sense. Let this go through.

When she was done, heat flushed her face.

“Jesus, look at you, sweaty, splotchy, your hair like something a rat wouldn’t nest in. I don’t know how I ever got it up with you.”

She dipped the mop in the bucket, wrung it out, began to wash up the blood.

“And what’s your pithy comeback? Hurt feelings.” He made crying noises. “God, you’re weak. You think that asshole you’re fucking now’s going to stick?”

“He loves me.” Saying it, knowing it, steadied her.

“Love? You’re a handy piece of ass. It’s all you ever were, all you’d ever be. A handy piece of ass who’ll splash around in some backwoods creek.”

She froze, and slowly lifted her gaze. “You spied on us, on me?”

“I could’ve taken you both out.” He lifted the gun, pointed it at her head. Said, “Pow, pow. But I wanted to lay it on Jimmy’s plate. A nice, tidy circle.”

“But you killed Jimmy.”

“Unavoidable alteration in plans. Don’t worry, I’ve got it covered. I always do. Put your back into it, Shelby.”

She went back to mopping, and began to make plans of her own.

•   •   •

G
RIFF GOT HUNG UP
talking construction with Derrick, lost track of some time. He had Shelby’s champagne, but he didn’t have Shelby. A glance around showed him Bitsy was back—a little damp-eyed as she danced with her future son-in-law.

Shelby was probably dealing with some other small crisis, he thought, but set out to look for her.

“Hey, Griff, hey!” Crystal came over, pointed at the glass of champagne. “Is that up for grabs?” She took it, drank deep. “I need it after drying Miz Bitsy up. She was watering like a leaky pipe.”

“Looks like you and Shelby got it done.”

“Oh, it was just me—that’s why I was looking for you, but I got waylaid a couple times. It’s a hell of a party! Shelby had to run home for a minute. Get Fifi for Callie. She should be back by now, I guess.”