Deceived (22 page)

“I’m not interested in having a partner.”

“That’s the thing, you don’t really have a choice.”

She wanted to spit in his face right there. She could not imagine any universe where she would be partners with this guy. Then, for an awful second, she realized something — that she was very much like this man . . .

“So what are you suggesting?” Liz said.

“I am suggesting that we take the rocks to Mexico. I know where to fence them down there and — ”

“And what other things are you going to expect out of our little excursion?”

Bill said, “Why don’t we work that out as we go along?”

“What if I want to know right now?”

“You haven’t even gotten a chance to know me.”

“What’s your real name?”

“Don’t you like Bill?”

“What’s the real one?”

He looked her up and down once and smiled. “I don’t think I want to get into that. You’re a sweet kid. Maybe I’ll tell you a little bit about why I do this.”

Fine, she thought. Let him talk. The more time that went by, the more time she had to figure a way out of this.

“I used to be an accountant,” he said. “’ People used to tell me all the time that’s what I looked like. An accountant. You know how annoying that is? Big accounting firm in Century City. Crunching numbers. Then one day I heard about a couple of guys who blew a jewelry store robbery. They got in a shootout with the police because they made dumb mistakes. That fascinated me. I started to wonder if a smart guy like me could figure out a way to make something like that work.”

“And you did?”

“Oh yes, I did. And you know what? It’s not that hard. All it takes is projection, planning, and research. It’s what I was doing all day anyway. So I started with a little jewelry store in Torrance. Just for fun, at first. It took me two weeks to plan it. Finding out where the security cameras were located, the pattern of drive-by private security, the type of locks on the doors. I calculated the speed I would need to get in and get out, the escape route, everything. Only one thing I lacked.”

Liz waited. She watched his eyes. They were almost sparkling.

“A partner. Someone to provide what I couldn’t. Mainly, speed and escape. So you know what I did?”

Liz shrugged.

“I held interviews. I really did. Not in the office, of course, but in a bar in Oxnard, one I selected because I’d saved the bacon of the owner once in a financial meltdown. It was a link to a world I hadn’t known before. I looked many would-be outlaws in the eyes, sized them up, and even had them show me what they could do with their equipment. Until I found the right one. Until I found Denton. He was raw and undisciplined, but he could ride a motorcycle like the devil in a hurry. I saw his potential, and I spent months working with him. I turned him into something he never would have been without me. I made him into something.”

He was almost talking past her now, to an unseen audience.

“It was beautiful what we had. Four jobs in two years. Not too many, not too few. But they were all just preparation for this last job. This was the big score, as they say. And then, for some reason, he got wild and careless. It was not like him, not after the way I shaped him. Very disappointing. So now here I am. Here we are.”

Liz said nothing. Waited for him to play this out.

He looked at her and said, “I also found out something about myself over these last couple of years.” He took a step toward her. “I found out I can do things I never thought possible. Really mean things. I found out I can do anything I set out to do, solve any problem, take care of any people who stand in my way. And not lose a single night’s sleep over it.”

“You’re right, Bill,” she said, standing. “I am interested.”

He paused and studied her face. “You wouldn’t just be saying that to fool me now, would you?”

“Oh, I know I can’t do that,” Liz said. “And I’m not going to just roll over and give up the gems. But we can work together. On my terms.”

10:53 a.m.

Rocky watched as the woman made her way up to where the deputy sheriff stood. She held a notebook. She said something to the deputy, who looked around one more time. Then the two of them walked back toward the parking lot.

Now what were they up to? Why be out here looking around at an accident scene
after
the funeral? Did they have suspicions of some kind?

She waited a couple of minutes before moving. She figured that the area where the deputy was standing was the crest where Arty fell. She’d be able to follow the sight line down. She could do a
CSI: Miami
and play David Caruso now. All she needed was designer shades and a too-cool-for-school voice.

What if it wasn’t an accident? What if there had been a fight or something? Was Liz capable of cold-blooded killing?

It didn’t have to be cold-blooded. What if they were arguing, and Liz just got mad? Certainly she was capable of that.

What if she killed him and then dragged his body to that spot, so it looked like he fell?

Thoughts were jumbling around as she pushed herself up on the boulder in front of her, stood, wiped her hands. She had a couple of choices. Go back the way she came and start down from the deputy’s vantage point. Or try making her way across the rocky divide, going directly from point A to point B.

She chose the latter. That way, she could scan the perimeter. See if there was any sign of blood or torn clothes or any other
CSI
stuff.

She almost laughed at that but didn’t, because she almost slipped. Careful now, she thought. You don’t need any sprained ankles here.

Start looking.

11:01 a.m.

It all came down to choices, Liz thought.

Her first choice involved the man named Bill, standing there, considering her proposition, not even realizing what she’d chosen. Thinking fast, she’d laid out a plan mainly to stall him, but it was good enough to get him to pause. And gave her control of the situation.

She had learned how to do this from the best. From Mama.

Especially after what Mama had to do to Miller Jones.

Liz was thirteen when her mama married Jones. Her real father, Les Summerville, was doing hard time in Holman, and Mama had long before secured a divorce. That left the door open for Jones.

He had hair that smelled of cooking grease. He cooked for Rob-bie’s, the coffee shop at the edge of town, across from the Tote-Sum convenience store where Liz bought Coca-Colas on hot summer days.

Mama started taking Liz to Robbie’s, first once, then twice a week. Jones would smile at her. Liz liked him because he could crack eggs two at a time, one in each hand. And then he started coming to visit the trailer where she and Mama lived.

Miller Jones liked to laugh and even brought Mama flowers once. Liz was glad when they got married at a little office across the county line.

Her stepfather came to live with them in the trailer. It made things a little tight, but that was just the way life was. The place started to smell different, too. Man smells. The grease, the bourbon, the sweat.

He never did give Mama a diamond ring like she wanted. Liz knew that could only mean bad luck.

And then one night Miller Jones came to Liz. It was when Mama was working late at the shop, doing the books. Liz got to watch TV and Miller Jones sat in his chair, not saying anything, pouring himself drinks from a bottle. He’d drink them right down without ice or anything.

Liz got up to go to bed and Miller Jones said, “Ain’t you got a kiss for your daddy?”

She didn’t want to give him one. She liked him all right, but it didn’t seem like the time was right yet for kisses. Maybe later. So that’s what she said.

“Maybe later.”

“Come on,” he said, “I’m your daddy now, and daddies get kisses from their little girls.”

“I have to go pee,” Liz said, and hurried to what they called the bathroom. She closed the door and did her business. Then she flushed the toilet, washed her hands, and almost ran to her bed, hoping that would be the last of it.

She drew the curtain that was her door and listened.

Miller Jones didn’t say anything more.

Relieved, Liz got into her jammies and into bed and started to fall asleep.

He came in like a ghost, like he’d passed right through the curtains. He was a shadow with the light behind him. She could smell the bourbon on his breath. It was as strong as truck exhaust.

He came to the bed and sat on it.

“You like your new daddy?” he said.

“Uh-huh,” Liz said. She tried to hold her breath so she wouldn’t smell him.

“That’s real good. I want you to like me. I want it very much.” He leaned over then and she felt his weight on her as he kissed her cheek. His whiskers scratched her.

He didn’t get back up.

Or move. He just breathed, loud and snorty, lying across her. His weight pressing down more and more.

“I can’t . . . breathe,” she said.

Miller Jones said nothing.

He didn’t move, she realized, because he was asleep. Asleep in that way he got when he had a lot to drink.

She put her hands on his shoulders and pushed, but he was like a sack of wet clothes.

She had to wriggle out from under him. It took her almost a whole minute, but finally she was free. Leaving Jones on top of her bed, snoring.

Liz used her feet. She pushed him and rolled him over. He clunked on the floor. And didn’t wake up.

She took her blanket and pillow, went out to the couch, and fell asleep there.

Mama woke her up.

“What happened?” Mama said. There was fire in her eyes like Liz had never seen.

Liz told her mama what happened.

That night the shouting started. Liz was scared. She never knew her mama could shout that loud or say those things.

Miller Jones stumbled out of her room and Liz ran back in, covering her head with a pillow as the yelling went on and on.

In the morning, Mama had a big blue mark under her right eye. Miller Jones was off to work at Robbie’s. And Mama asked her: “You know what lyin’ is, baby?”

“Course,” Liz said.

“What do you know about it?”

“Not supposed to do it.” Liz thought she’d been caught in a lie by her mother but just didn’t remember which one.

“But it’s all right to lie when you have to,” Mama said.

That seemed right.

“Sometimes you got to lie to help the ones you love, right?”

Liz nodded.

“You remember that, now. I’m counting on you. You need to show Mama how much you love her.”

“I will Mama. I’ll show you.”

But she couldn’t know then just how much she’d have to show. Not until the bad thing happened and the whole town yapped about it, not until then would she know.

Liz had all of it roiling in her mind as she faced the man named Bill in the house in Pack Canyon.

She had shown Mama, and now she would show her again.

Just how and when would have to be worked out.

“I don’t know if I like it,” Bill said, pulling Liz back to the moment. “No, I am not getting a good feeling here.”

“But I am the only one who knows where the rocks are,” Liz said.

“It’s almost like we’re stuck with — ”

Someone knocked on the door.

11:02 a.m.

I shouldn’t have come here, Ted thought. Shouldn’t have, shouldn’t have.

But he had to see her. His need was a burning inside him. He knew he was teetering on the edge. She had wrapped herself around his mind. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. He knocked again. Her car was in the driveway. She was home, or was visiting somewhere and would soon be home. He was not going to leave until he saw her and gave her the package he held in his hands.

What if she told him to take a hike?

He’d cross that bridge whenever. As long as she didn’t blow the bridge up, there was hope. If it blew up, went away, he didn’t know what he’d do.

Maybe blow himself up with it.

11:03 a.m.

“What do you want me to do?” Liz said.

“Don’t answer it,” Bill said.

“But it might be somebody from the church.”

“So?”

“They’re dropping by to look in on me.”

“You don’t have to be home.”

“My car is in the driveway. People know I’m home.”

Another knock. Liz took a step toward the door. Bill put his hand out and stopped her.

“Just let it go,” he said.

The knocking stopped. The pair stood in silence a moment, then through the lace curtains Liz saw a figure sit down on the porch bench.

“What’s going on?” Bill said.

“They’re waiting for me.”

He looked at her, ice in his eyes. “Who is it?”

“I’m not sure.”

“This is where I shine,” Bill said.

“What do you mean?”

“You’ll do exactly what I say. First of all, look out the curtain and see if you recognize who it is. Do that now.”

Liz hesitated. Bill raised his hands in frustration, then drew his index finger across his throat. As in,
That’s what’ ll happen if you don’t
do what I say.

“All right,” Liz said. “Just stay cool.”

11:04 a.m.

Ted felt a wonderful sensation of fear, anticipation, and lust.

He felt alive. No matter what happened, this was worth it. He was going to go for it. He was going to go for something without thinking or pausing or being rational about it. For once in his life, he would go for it running on all cylinders, because maybe this was the last time he would have the chance to get what he really wanted.

And he really wanted
her
.

He set the small package in its plain brown wrapper on the bench next to him, crossed his legs, and looked at the front yard. He took in a deep breath of eucalyptus and dried grass.

She needed him. Like the dry grass needed water. She just didn’t know it. He had saved her. She needed him then. She needed him now.

And he had to get to her before some other guy did.

You didn’t get the chance to comfort a widow very often, especially one this . . . what was the word?
Hot
didn’t do it, because she was more than that.

He heard the door open.