Deceit (29 page)

Her windpipe gurgled and choked. One more rasp—and the awful sound cut off. Linda’s facial muscles flattened. Her body relaxed.

Her eyes set in a cold, dead glaze.

Melissa’s mouth opened, her throat cinched tight.

“Nnnno!” Baxter grabbed his wife’s shoulders and shook her until her body bounced off the floor. “Linda. Linda!”

Curses and prayers spewed from his mouth. He slapped both hands against her chest and pumped her heart with fury. He stopped for a second, checked for a reaction. Nothing. Baxter tried again, harder.

Melissa watched him with growing dread. Linda was gone. She wasn’t coming back. It was Melissa and Baxter now, and once he gave up trying to revive Linda, who knew what he might do? Silently Melissa screamed to herself that everything would be fine. Not because it looked that way, far from it. Because it had to be.

She reached deep within herself once more and crushed the fear into dust. A pale and chilling wind kicked up in her stomach, blew the dust away

Baxter rocked back on his heels, begging for a breath, a flutter in Linda’s chest. She didn’t move. He moaned, swiped the back of his hand across his mouth. Started pumping again.

Melissa turned away. The knife lay red and bloodied against the white porcelain sink. Mechanically, she picked it up. Washed and dried it. Slid it back into the butcher’s block.

Behind her Baxter was crying. Grunting. Pumping.

Melissa examined her hands, beneath her fingernails, looking for blood. They were unstained.

She rinsed out the sink. Wiped it out with a paper towel. Buffed over the nearby area of granite countertop.

Baxter’s weeping increased, his prayers turning off-key and mumbling. Melissa faced him, palms together and pressed against her mouth. His cheeks were splotchy red, tear tracks through the smeared blood.

He raised his hands from Linda’s chest. They hovered above her body, helpless and trembling, as his eyes sought Melissa’s. “She’s dead.” His voice pinched. He shook his head, disbelieving. Baxter’s body leaned to one side until he slipped off his knees and sat down hard. His chin dropped, a sob wrenching from his throat.

Melissa moved to him and pressed her fingers into his shoulder. “Shhhh. It’ll be okay.”

His head jerked up. “What do you
mean
, it’ll be okay? She’s
dead
.”

“I know. I’m so sorry.”

Anger mottled Baxter’s face. “You killed her.”

“I—it all happened so fast.”

“You
killed
her!”

“She was about to kill
you
.”

Baxter’s lips twisted. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? Linda out of your way.”

“Of course not.”

“You planned this all along.”

Melissa’s back straightened. “No I didn’t—it just happened. You’re the one who drugged her.”

“
I
didn’t put a knife in her back!”

“Baxter, she was going to cut you into shreds! What did you want me to do—stand back and let it happen?”

“You did this. You killed my wife!”

Baxter leapt to his feet, greedy hands stretched for Melissa’s throat. She stumbled backward, arms before her face, and swung away. He punched her in the kidney. Pain shot through Melissa’s lower back. She listed to one side, gagging for air.

He hit her in the spine. Melissa crashed down on all fours, tried to scrabble away, fighting for oxygen. He kicked her in the side.

“Stop it!” She grabbed his leg. Baxter went off balance and caught the counter to stay upright. He jerked his leg to free it, but she hung on tight. Baxter lunged downward, grabbed her hair, and pulled. Melissa yanked his leg. He toppled to the floor onto his side.

The fall seemed to crack him. In seconds all his fight spilled away. He pushed to a sitting position, then slumped against a cabinet, chin nearly touching his chest.

Melissa let go of his leg and scooted beyond his reach. Her open mouth sucked in oxygen. Her whole body burned.

Baxter dropped his face in both hands and moaned.

Melissa watched warily, her muscles tensed to spring away if he turned on her again. A minute passed.

Two…

Three.

With caution she crawled to his side. “Baxter. You know I didn’t mean this to happen.”

He raised his head, nostrils sucking in and out. Sweat trickled down one temple. He would not look at her. Instead he stared across the room for a long time, as if Melissa did not exist. When he finally spoke his tone had thinned to cold steel. “We have to figure out what to do.” He raised a shaking hand and wiped at his cheek, further smearing the remnants of Linda’s blood. Baxter’s gaze raked the floor as if an answer had been cut into the hardwood.

He swallowed. “We need to call the police.”

Melissa’s head drew back. “No way.”

He tilted his head and regarded her with disdain. “Just what do you suggest?”

“What would you tell them?”

“How about the truth? You killed my wife.”

Melissa eyed him coolly. “They’ll want the whole story. You want to tell them that too?”

He stared back at her, jaw tight. Calculations rippled across his face, as if the two of them had just begun a fatal game of chess.

Melissa’s body throbbed.

Baxter forced his eyes to his wife’s still form. “We can’t claim self-defense. Nobody’s going to believe she came at me with a knife.”

Melissa’s control faltered. For a crazy minute she imagined herself hanging from the corner of the ceiling, looking down at the surreal scene.

She’d done it now. She’d really done it, and there was no going back. Baxter could turn against her in a heartbeat. Say she killed Linda out of jealousy, and he had nothing to do with it. If she told the police he beat his wife, they’d never believe her. Any bruises on Linda’s body Baxter could attribute to
her
. She’d attacked Linda, hit her, knifed her. Baxter had heard the noise and come downstairs to find his wife on the floor…

Melissa’s chin wavered and her lips pulled. She leaned against a cabinet and pressed both hands over her eyes. Drew her knees up to her chest. “I didn’t mean to
hurt
her, Baxter. She was going to
kill
you. I
couldn’t let her do it
!”

No response from Baxter, not one sound or movement. Melissa played out her crying. After a minute she sniffed and rubbed her eyes, knowing she was smearing her mascara. She fixed him with a dull gaze.

He met her eyes, his mouth curled. “Melissa, the girl who never cries. Not even at her own mother’s funeral, so they told me.”

Indignation seeped into Melissa’s veins. She fought to keep it from her expression.

Wait a minute.

Baxter couldn’t put Linda’s death all on her. She could cry rape. Linda had caught Baxter in the act and screamed she’d tell the world. He killed her to shut her up. A medical exam of Melissa would prove they’d had sex. Even if Baxter convinced them he hadn’t forced her, it would still be statutory rape. His reputation would be in the dirt. The town would turn against him. His real estate business would tank.

He knew this already. He’d thought this through.

Fine then. He wanted to play chess? Bring on the game.

Melissa straightened her shoulders and looked Baxter in the eye. “What do you want from me?”

Baxter’s face transformed from grieving husband to the hard ice of a glacial lake. Here was the Baxter Melissa knew. The king of Vonita, master of his castle. The man who could do whatever he thought necessary and get away with it.

He pushed to his feet. “Like it or not—and I
don’t—
we’re in this together. If one of us goes down, we both fall.”

Melissa rose too. She didn’t like looking up at him. “Of course we’re in this together.” She tinged her voice with sincerity—
I’ d do anything for you.
Maybe, just maybe she could win him back. “Just tell me what you want me to do.”

He ran a hand across his forehead. “Get dressed. In dark clothes. We have to get rid of the evidence.”

FIFTY-SEVEN

FEBRUARY 2010

“Don’t Worry, Be Happy” called to me through the quicksand. The voice echoed, mocking and full of portent. Abject fear sifted over me, caking my body.

What…?

I swam against the weight pulling me down. Broke the surface.

My eyes pried open.

Melissa Harkoff stood over me, a gun in her hand. Her mouth curled into a vengeful smile. “Hello, Joanne.”

No, this was a dream. I’d fallen asleep…

“Sit up.” Her tone pierced, a shard of glass.

Reality hit. Dull adrenaline prickled my limbs. I struggled to a sitting position and cringed back against the headboard.

I stared at Melissa.

She moved her jaw to one side. “You’re going to tell me what I need know.”

“What?” My voice shook.

“How to disappear.”

My mouth moved. No words formed. My brain, my body refused to function.

Melissa smirked. “Not nice feeling helpless, is it?”

I swallowed. “I’m not helping you get away, Melissa.”

“You tell me, you live. You don’t help me, you die.”

Melissa…a liar, a blackmailer. Now a killer?

A heavy rock sank in my stomach. How much had I misread this girl? Could anything she said or did be trusted?

Did she really even know where Linda’s body was?

The thoughts sickened me. I’d gone through too much to catch Melissa and ultimately, Baxter Jackson. If there would be any shred of reliability left in Melissa’s testimony against him, I couldn’t lose her now.

“You kill me, there goes your information.”

“I can start with your hand—how’d you like a bullet there? Or maybe your leg.”

She’d do it. She really would. Nausea roiled through me. “I don’t think well when I’m in pain.”

We glared at each other.

Melissa ran her tongue beneath her top lip. “We’re going to go to your computer. You’re going to type out each step for me. Print it.”

“How’d you get in here?”

“Broke the glass to your back garage door. Now get up.”

Glass? I hadn’t heard a thing. And I hadn’t seen a car. How’d she get to my house? She must have parked on a side road and been waiting for my return. Maybe for hours.

“Get
up
, Joanne.”

I pushed off the bed. My legs nearly gave way. I clutched the headboard, steadied myself.

“Go to your office.”

Melissa backed up, giving me room to walk past her.

I eyed the gun. “That another one of Tony’s? Did he bring you here?”

Anger pinched her face. “
I’m
the one wanting information.
Go
.”

My chin raised. I walked by her and out the bedroom door. Up the hall, into my work space. I sat in my swivel chair, flicked on the computer. “It’ll take time to boot up. No need to threaten it with a bullet too.”

Melissa snarled.

I stared at the monitor, my head still thick. Logic moved through it slowly. As far as Melissa knew, her timing was perfect. From here she’d go to the drop-off location. Get away with the money—for good.

Except that the money would never arrive.

My screen blipped on. Windows came up.

Sudden realization burned my head. What was to keep me from calling the police as soon as Melissa left?

She was lying. Again.

Melissa Harkoff would get her much-needed information. And then she would kill me.

FIFTY-EIGHT

AUGUST 2004

“We have to get rid of the evidence.”

Melissa hesitated only a second before hurrying out of the kitchen and up the stairs. When she hit the upper level she stopped, listening. All the TV crime shows she’d watched over the years chugged through her mind. On her left lay the master bedroom, lights on, its door wide open. Way down the hall, past two guest bedrooms and a shared bath, was her suite.

From downstairs rose the faint sound of the door between the kitchen and garage, opening and closing.

Melissa veered left.

Heart clutching, she ran across the master bedroom and into the huge bath area. Her frantic gaze scraped over the counter, taking in lotion bottles, a mirror, hairspray. Linda’s stuff.

Heat rose in Melissa’s body. If Baxter caught her here, all pretense would be off. No telling what he’d do.

Melissa yanked open a drawer. Inside it lay a man’s black comb.

She snatched it up and examined it. A few dark hairs stuck in the teeth. Perfect. She ripped off toilet paper, wrapped the comb in it, and stuck it in the waistband of her shorty pajamas.

Melissa sprinted to her room. She threw on jeans, a dark sweatshirt with zippered pockets. Shoved her feet into a pair of Vans sneakers. The wrapped comb went into her right pocket. Melissa zipped it up and ran downstairs.

In the kitchen Baxter was spreading an old blanket beside Linda’s body. The butcher knife was back in its holder.

“Did you wash it?” She pointed to the knife.

“No.”

Melissa slid it out, examined it. Looked clean. She rinsed it off anyway before replacing it.

Baxter knelt near Linda’s head. “Help me get her onto the blanket.”

Melissa sank down by Linda’s feet. Together they rolled the body onto the blanket about two feet from the edge. They both took one side of the thick fabric and folded it over Linda. Then they rolled her again, wrapping like a bulky cocoon until all the blanket was used up. Both the top and bottom had six inches of extra material.

A puddle of blood stained the floor where Linda had lain. “I’ll clean it.” Melissa stood up.

“Use paper towels. We’ll need to take them out with us.”

Baxter walked over to prop open the door into the garage. Then he disappeared out of the kitchen. Melissa heard the
click
of a car trunk opening.

She fetched a plastic grocery bag and the paper towel holder from the counter. She wiped up the blood, putting the towels in the bag. Then she wet more towels, sprayed the area with a kitchen cleaner, and rubbed and rubbed. Baxter reappeared. He watched as she got down on her knees and examined the baseboards around where Linda had fallen. When Melissa was satisfied, she put the cleaner away and stuffed all the used paper towels into the bag. She returned the paper towel holder to the counter.