Love Kills (24 page)

Barely able to see through the cold rain, we stared at the newlyweds' cabin from the chilly woods across the road. No lights visible, nothing moving. The Range Rover was still parked where I had seen it last.

If Holt had made it out of the woods before we did, he could be inside.

“Okay, Nancy. Focus. Even if we're lucky and neither one is in there, that could change at any moment. So we go in fast. You run to find the keys, look for the gun, and grab a sweater or jacket, then we're out of there in forty-five seconds or less. If one or both show up, all we can do is run in opposite directions, be brave, fight back, and hope for the best. Got it?”

She began to cry. “This is my honeymoon—”

“It could be your funeral.”

“This was supposed to be the happiest week of my life.” Rain mingled with tears on her face.

I closed my eyes and wished I felt strong enough to shake her until her big white teeth rattled.

“How long did you know him, Nancy?”

She gasped, shoulders shaking. “Two, almost three months.”

“Don't ever do that again. Make it eighteen months minimum before you even consider an engagement.”

“He was so handsome, so romantic, so perfect. What gives you the right to be so smug? Look at you.”

“This is not the life I chose,” I said, itching to smack her hard. “Let's go.”

We scuttled across the road one at a time. She climbed the front stairs, fished the spare key out of a flowerpot, and gingerly unlocked the front door.

I watched her step inside and held my breath until she reappeared to wave the all clear.

I dragged myself up the stairs, barking like a drill sergeant. “Okay, okay, okay. Forty-five seconds. The keys, the keys, the keys. The gun. Find the gun. Grab a sweater, a jacket. Let's go, let's go, let's go!”

The car keys were not on the hook by the door. I scanned the room and yelped. Lacey's laptop sat on the rough-hewn wooden table. I snatched it up like a prize.

He had been here, waiting. Neither of them expected Nancy to emerge from those woods alive. Holt had planned to stagger out to safety, feigning grief and shock. The head wound Nancy had inflicted would have served as further proof of how he'd heroically tried to rescue his beloved. He'd spin a tale of how he'd leaped into the rapids to reach her, smashing his head on a rock, risking his own life as the current swept her away.

Nancy emerged from the bedroom wearing a heavy ski sweater and a windbreaker. “Here.” She tossed me a man's flannel-lined blue windbreaker. “It's his.” Her lips quivered.

I didn't care if it belonged to Beelzebub himself, I gratefully slipped it on.

“And these.” She dangled the keys to the Range Rover.

I took them. “Did you find the gun?”

She shook her head.

I sighed and picked up the fireplace poker.

“Where'd that come from?” She stared at the laptop.

“It belongs to John Lacey. He was here. You weren't expected back.”

Nancy stopped at the door and turned, eyes roving the room lovingly. She was working herself up again. “I was going to make a soufflé tonight—”

“Don't, Nancy. Let's go. I'll drive.”

“I think I should,” she said, as we went back out into the rain. “My husband and I are the only names on the car-rental contract. The insurance might not cover anyone else.”

“Don't worry about it.” Teeth on edge, I heaved myself up into the driver's seat.

The relentless rain made it impossible to see the muddy road, which was slippery as hell.

“We'll go straight to police headquarters,” I said. “I just want to get us off this mountain. My plane ticket and clothes are back at my cabin but we can't go there.”

“Why?”

“Duh. Think about it, Nancy. If they're not here at your cabin, they're probably looking for us at mine.”

Even with four-wheel drive, the Range Rover skidded, and the water made it hard to see the edge of the lane. On a curve it would be easy to drive right off the side. Slowly, we descended to where the rutted dirt road met the pavement.

“Oh, my God!” Nancy said, and began to scream.

“I don't believe it!” I hit the brakes.

There was no paved road, only a raging, dirty brown river.

“Flash flood!” I tried to back up, but the tires spun uselessly in the mud.

Huge pieces of debris swept by—trees, logs, a roof, and a broken carport—all caught up in the torrent.

“We're gonna drown! We'll drown!” Nancy shrieked.

“No,” I said quietly. “We won't. There are three of us here, and that's not going to happen.”

I backed up slowly, painstakingly, gaining purchase each time I cautiously fed the Range Rover more gas. I continued backing up the dirt lane as the water followed, rising in front of us. Finally we reached a place wide enough to turn around.

“Where do we go? What do we do?” Nancy babbled.

I found the radio news at 660 KFAR-AM:
State of emergency. Mud-slides. Roads closed. River on the rise. Boats rescuing residents.
The water had flowed over bridges and surged through buildings.

I headed back up the mountain through the savage downpour, the windshield so flooded I could barely see. At top speed, the wipers could not move fast enough. The cabin Lacey had rented was the highest shelter I knew. It offered food, warmth, and dry clothes.

My cell phone still had no signal. Nancy had lost hers escaping from her bridegroom.

“We're passing your place,” I shouted, over the sounds of the pounding rain and the blaring radio. “Look out that side. See if anyone's there.”

If they had returned, Marsh Holt and John Lacey would be furious that the Range Rover and the incriminating laptop were missing. By now they would know that Nancy and I were together.

I turned off the headlights as we approached.

I didn't dare take my eyes off the road, but I saw the Ford Explorer out front. My heart constricted. Nancy had rolled her window down for a better look. Blasts of rain blew into the car.

I heard her gasp.

“What?”

“Somebody on the porch.”

“Which one? Did he see us? Are there two of them?”

“I don't know. It was so fast. The rain was hitting my face and I couldn't see.”

“I bet he could, watching from a covered porch.”

Headlights bloomed in the rearview mirror and my pulse quickened. But just as quickly they disappeared. Perhaps they had turned down the mountain toward the highway, or maybe the driver had simply doused his lights.

“If he headed for the highway,” I said, “they'll be back soon.”

Nancy burst into tears of relief when we saw the cabin. It looked just the way it did when I left it.

We sat, silent for a moment, the car buffeted by wind and the merciless cloudburst. I dreaded that dash to the door. Dreaded that I might not make it, and fearing what might be waiting inside if I did.

“You're sure you didn't see two men back there?” I asked.

“No, only one. But that doesn't mean the other one wasn't with him.”

“Or that he's here, waiting for us.” My throat felt dry. “I'll leave the engine running. Move over into the driver's seat. If I don't come out to signal an all-clear in ninety seconds, take off. Hit the gas and get the hell out of here. If you have to, hide in the woods until you're rescued. It won't be too long. The rental agents know how many people are up here. The minute the rain stops, they'll send in choppers, medics, and cops. But whatever happens, don't let go of Lacey's laptop. Keep it with you. Show it to the cops. Insist that they read my story and his saved e-mails. The password is
Suzanne
. Suzanne with a
z
.”

Nancy frowned, her eyes narrowed, as though it was all too much to grasp.

Did she hear a thing I said? I was tempted to snap my fingers to test her reflexes, if any, when she blurted, “Absolutely not! I'm not going into those woods by myself.”

I sighed.

“No. I'll check the cabin instead.” She reached for the fireplace poker and opened the car door. “If he's in there, I can run down those front steps a helluva lot faster than you can.”

I paused, then tossed her the front door key. “My condition is temporary,” I said. “While you're baking cakes and cookies, and flashing your big teeth for the camera, I'm jogging, swimming, and working out. At least I did. I may be temporarily indisposed but, normally on my worst day, I could outrun you in a heartbeat without breaking a sweat.”

“I bet you could,” she said, and jumped out of the Range Rover into the rain.

“Be careful,” I warned. She didn't hear me. She was already halfway up the front steps, teeth gritted, the fireplace poker gripped solidly in both hands.

My lips moved in a silent prayer as she cautiously stepped inside.

An earsplitting scream sounded almost instantly. The Range Rover leaped forward as my foot stomped the accelerator in a reflex action. More screams. I could hear the sheer panic in her voice above the pounding of the rain. I hit the brakes, switched off the ignition, and groped for something, anything, to use as a weapon.

I remembered the stack of firewood on the porch next to the front door. Head down, I fought my way through the deluge, scrambled up steps strewn with slick windblown leaves as quickly as I could, snatched up a heavy piece of wood, and took a deep breath.

Nancy was still alive, still screaming. Water streamed into my eyes as I pushed the front door open and burst inside. The gun, a high-powered automatic, was the first thing I saw.

“You didn't say the other guy was a woman!” Nancy howled. She was crouched against the wall near the fireplace, her hands protecting her face.

“Leave her alone!” I cried, then gasped when I saw the face behind the gun. “What are you doing here? Is it really you?”

“Who is she?” Lieutenant K. C. Riley looked annoyed as she holstered her weapon. “Does she always scream like that?”

“Always,” I said, frowning at Nancy, “from the day I met her.”

I closed my eyes. When I opened them, K.C. was still there. This was no dream, no hallucination. I dropped the piece of firewood and burst into tears.

“I can't believe you're here.”

“I said I'd get back to you. What's
with
this weather?”

I stood there dripping water, barely able to speak. “Thank you for coming,” I managed.

“We're investigating the death of Gloria Weatherholt,” she said. “It's a cold case, a homicide. She didn't drown. Her scuba tank had been tampered with. She died of carbon monoxide poisoning.”

“Thank you,” I said. “That is what I've been trying to tell everybody.”

She took a step closer. “My God, Britt. You look awful. Get out of those wet clothes and into something warm. Are you all right?”

“It's been a rough week,” I said, voice thin.

“Who is this?” She cut her eyes at Nancy.

“Nancy Lee Chastain Holt, survivor bride, the last of an endangered species.”

Nancy climbed slowly to her feet, still whimpering.

“Her husband and his lover are probably right behind us. They're armed.”

“Lover?” Nancy's eyes welled up.

I explained to Riley where we'd last seen them. She stepped to a front window and peered intently into the storm. “What about John Lacey, the young man who might have been murdered?”

“I was wrong. The son of a bitch isn't dead. He's with her husband. They're a couple. Have been all along.”

Riley's eyebrows lifted.

“We have proof,” I said. “Did you bring backup?”

“Stone. He's in Fairbanks filling in the local cops. He'll be here soon. I've lost the signal on my cell phone.”

“Me too. The roads are impassable, flash flooding.”

She nodded. “I barely made it through, had to run a few roadblocks coming up. You two dry off, I'll make some hot tea.”

“No,” I said, “let Nancy do it. She's a professional.”

Riley stood watch while I took a hot shower. I didn't recognize my reflection in the big full-length bathroom mirror. Whose body is that? I wondered. Grotesque. Would I ever be the same again? I sighed and stepped into the shower, luxuriating in the steamy, soapy water. I was rinsing off, still in the shower, when the power went out.

I dressed quickly in the dark and stepped out with a blanket wrapped around me. “Is it the weather?” I whispered. “Or somebody outside?”

“Weather, I think,” Riley said. “This must be the worst place I've ever been. It's like Miami, minus the sun.”

“Thank Nancy,” I said. “She chose it for her honeymoon. How did you get here? I didn't see your car.”

“A rental. I hid it on high ground in the woods about a quarter mile north of here. Didn't want Holt to spot it.”

I filled her in as I gratefully inhaled the hot tea Nancy brewed. Before the power failed, they had retrieved Lacey's laptop from the Range Rover.

Nancy cried nonstop as she and Riley read the e-mails. I listened, sipped my tea, missed Miami, and experienced a new, highly unusual sensation. I suddenly yearned to scrub my small apartment from floor to ceiling, to reupholster the little chair in my bedroom, rearrange my kitchen cabinets, and organize my closets. None of those things had ever been a priority but now the urge to nest overwhelmed me.

Away from home too long, I began to relate to those who forty years ago believed their exile would be brief, that they would return home to Cuba in a few days or weeks. Most never did and never will.

I stared at dancing flames in the fireplace and wondered. How long before I go home? Will I ever see Miami again?

Nancy whipped up a tasty meal from odds and ends in the pantry and the cans and groceries Lacey had brought. She'd also found some candles. I picked listlessly at my food. Nancy, who'd been hitting the blackberry brandy, soon cried herself to sleep.

The wind-driven rain never stopped.

“Get some rest, Britt,” Riley said. “I'll wake you if anything happens.”

“I'm too tired to sleep,” I murmured. “Maybe, in a while.” My body ached. My swollen feet and ankles were blistered, my breasts sore, and my back and belly hurt.

Riley sat at the wooden table, back straight, her Glock in her waistband, the soft firelight glinting off her blond hair. I remembered the sweet-faced girl in McDonald's high school yearbook as I threw a blanket on the couch and tried unsuccessfully to find a comfortable position. We talked softly in the dim light, listening for anything unusual beyond the rain pounding on the corrugated metal roof. It was like waiting for a hurricane's full fury.

“So,” she asked quietly. “Is Kenny's baby a boy or a girl?”

I explained why I didn't know, not sure if she believed me.

“I'm glad you're having it. You could have—”

“It crossed my mind for a split second. I never could. Adoption crossed my mind too.”

I saw her react even though her features hid in shadow.

“But I couldn't do that either. This is all that's left of him in the world. One reason this story is so important to me is that it's probably my swan song unless the
News
lets me do some sort of work from home. I can't hand this baby off to strangers to raise. No babysitters, no nanny, no day care. Even after he or she starts school, I can't work the police beat, on call twenty-four/seven. That part of my life is over. It's all I've ever done. This won't be easy.”

“Nothing good ever is,” she said. “You'll find a way to make it work.”

I wished I was so sure. Despite my fears and uncertainties I detected envy in her voice.

“You can never predict how life will play out,” I said. “When you think you know, you're wrong.”

“Everybody has regrets,” she murmured. “I drove away the only man I ever loved.”

“And I'm to blame for the death of the only man I'll ever love.”

“Too bad they were both the same man,” she said, her voice a whisper.

“He was the best.”

Surprisingly, she disagreed. “He was a great cop, smart as hell, with a good heart and a sense of humor. But he was human, like all cops. He wasn't perfect.”

I gave an irritated sigh and frowned in the dark.

“He was a romantic, Britt, attracted women like a magnet. Because he died young, you're convinced you would have lived happily ever after. Maybe not.”

“We would have made it,” I said quickly. “We were perfect.”

“So were we, Britt. Don't place him on a pedestal so high that no other man can ever live up to him.”

“I know you two shared a long history.”

“Loved him since second grade.” She sounded mellow. Somehow the semidarkness made it easier to talk. “We were a couple all through high school. Later, when he fell in love with police work, he wanted to share it. He's the one who recruited me into the academy.”

The wind howled outside. Inside, the silence was painful.