Still Life: The Randi Lassiter Series, Book 1 (26 page)

Chapter Sixty-Five

Randi punched numbers into the keyless lock box and said a silent prayer that Dammit wouldn’t get bored and chew up her upholstery when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She squeaked and nearly jumped out of her skin as she spun around and saw Georgia beside her.

“Holy crap! You scared the hell out of me.”

“I am so sorry, Randi honey. I didn’t mean to scare ya,” she drawled. “I just saw ya pull in. Guess ya didn’t hear me calling.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Sonja asked me to meet her on my way home. I guess she wanted a second opinion. I know it’s a big purchase for her, but she said she wanted to do it right. Something about not leaving any loose ends? You know the kind of perfectionist she is. But a
magician
with chocolate.” She turned her head this way and that as if looking for someone. “I didn’t miss her, did I?”

Randi smiled. “No, she must be running late, which is fine because I was running behind myself. I need to open the windows and get some fresh air in here.” She heard the whir of the automatic lock when the combination was entered, pulled out the key and opened the door. “Let’s go in, shall we? You can give me your two cents before Sonja arrives.” Randi invited Georgia to go on in ahead of her.

Georgia was quiet as she went from doorway to doorway, never entering any of the rooms. Instead she stuck her head in for a quick perusal. Randi opened the windows on the main floor and waited for an impressed smile that never came. Maybe Georgia wouldn’t give her a positive view on the property.

“Excuse me, Georgia.” Randi struggled with the last window on the main floor, the glass pane vibrated in its frame as it resisted her efforts to crank it open. “I’m going to head upstairs and get those windows open. Does it smell musty in here to you?”

“Naw, honey.” Georgia stood at the wall of glass that looked out over the lake, enjoying the view. “Take your time.”

“Give me a shout if Sonja comes before I get back down, thanks.” She took the stairs two at a time, feeling guilty at not having the house ready. Damn dog. She was going to give Jon a piece of her mind on the subject of dog training when she returned him.

All the bedrooms were upstairs, the master on one wing and two smaller bedrooms on the other. Randi went to the master en suite first and made sure the toilet lid was closed, then opened a small window next to the vanity.

She looked down over the driveway where Dammit was still behind the wheel of her car, resting his big head on the open door window. Randi smiled.

It struck her that she couldn’t see Georgia’s car in the driveway. She must have parked out by the road and walked in.

“Where’s your car, Georgia?” She yelled down the stairs as she passed by the landing. The woman didn’t answer. Must not have heard her.

Randi had fought the last window open and looked down at the storage shed at the wood’s edge. Her eyes went to the padlocked door and she tried to remember if she had the key in case Sonja wanted to look inside.

A flash caught her eye near the back of the little building. It was hard to distinguish any detail in the shadows, which forced Randi to squint. A blip of sunlight broke across the space as she saw the flash again.

Time slowed as she began to realize what she was looking at. Tucked up under the fronds of a great fern, Randi saw a woman’s gold earring as it caught the sunlight whenever the plant overhead swayed with the wind. She looked closer and saw glimpses of Sonja DiBattista’s face playing peek-a-boo in the grass.

Chapter Sixty-Six

Randi heard the wood floor behind her creak and turned to see Georgia standing in the doorway a few feet away. The hair on the back of Randi’s neck rose up. An ironic little smile bloomed on the woman’s mouth. “Well, this is awkward.”

She half turn and pointed toward the window. “I think Sonja is…”

Georgia interrupted. “What? Dead? Is that what you’re going to say?”

Randi’s mind raced. Maybe if she played dumb she could get a call out. “I was going to say hurt. We should call…”

Georgia stepped closer, penning Randi in and blocking the path to the hallway. “Don’t play the dumb blonde with me, girly. Don’t waste my fucking time!”

Randi had to try. She pulled her phone out of her pocket but before she could hit 911, Georgia slapped it out of her hand, knocking it into the wall across the room. Then with the back of the same hand, she slapped Randi across the face.

Randi reeled from the blow. She wavered on her feet as she fought for balance. Already she could feel a hot welt building on her skin. She stood frozen in place, partly from shock but mainly because of the six-inch knife Georgia now held in her hand.

So not a Betty after all.

Georgia bridged the gap between them and leaned in threateningly, wielding the knife out in front of her.

Randi backed away until she was against the windowsill. She looked over her shoulder and saw Dammit in the car. He was agitated and whining, looking up at the window. She didn’t know if he could see her or if he’d heard Georgia, but he began to jump back and forth on the front seats tugging on his leash.

Georgia leaned against her, pushing her body into Randi in a manner that was personal, suggestive even. “Don’t move.” Georgia grabbed her right hand by the wrist and held her fast. She was incredibly strong for her frame. Georgia put the blade against her throat.

“You and your handsome detective looked awfully cozy at the gala, Randi. I’ve been wondering about the two of you since that night. Everybody knows about you and your ex-husband. How he left you for your best friend because you’re such a cold fish, a prude. I don’t suppose the cop got lucky that night, did he?”

Randi screamed. She pulled out from under her and pitched herself toward the door, only to come to an abrupt halt when Georgia grabbed her by the hair and yanked her off her feet. Randi landed hard on her ass and her head bounced off the floor, dazing her.

Georgia rushed around and stood over her, waving the knife in the air like a toy, or a baton. “That’s right, I forgot…you really don’t know what I’m about, do you? Not
really
.”

Randi stared up at her, not knowing if she was supposed to answer. What she did know was if she didn’t escape soon she was going to die. She felt the growing bump on the back of her head as she tried to back away.

“I had planned to kill you and make Truman the scapegoat. But it looks like I’ll have to think of something else.” She tilted her head and moved closer as she studied Randi. “Scheduling conflicts. Aren’t they a bitch?”

“Georgia, you don’t have to kill me. I’m your friend.” She didn’t know what else to say. Her PI course hadn’t covered reasoning with a lunatic.

“But just ’cause I don’t need to kill you doesn’t mean it isn’t gonna happen, sugar.” Georgia loomed over her and trailed a finger over Randi’s swollen cheek, her touch shockingly tender.

Armed or not, Randi was going to have to fight if she wanted to survive.

“You see, I’m already up shit creek without a paddle. Anyone I kill now is for my own selfish reasons.” She shrugged theatrically. “Not that I didn’t enjoy it before, but they were just a means to an end. I needed to do it for Truman’s art, you see. Give the man direction. A purpose. Inspiration. So I provided it…one still life at a time.”

Randi thrust all thoughts of the grisly murders to the back of her mind. There was nothing she could do to help any of those people now. She needed to focus on saving her own ass.

Georgia leaned over and patted Randi’s head. “I was going to have fun with you.” She tucked a blond strand of hair behind Randi’s ear. “But alas, time’s a wasting. We should get a move on before somebody misses you.” Georgia lunged and Randi flinched.

She laughed as she toyed with Randi. “Oh, honey don’t you go thinking it’s gonna be that short and sweet. Believe me, you are gonna feel this for a while.”

Georgia reached around and pulled a length of rope out of her pocket and tossed it on the floor next to Randi. She pulled out a tiny glass vial of liquid, popped the top and held it out. “Drink this and it won’t hurt… Well, not as much. Might as well be honest.” When she saw the hesitation she stepped forward. “If you don’t, I guarantee you’ll feel every cut, every thrust, every twist.”

Randi thought about what Jon had said about a lack of defensive wounds. She hoped to distract Georgia now by getting her to talk—who doesn’t love it when someone shows interest in his or her hobby? “So that’s how you managed to get your victims to drop their guard.”

“Well, I have to admit, it was a heck of a lot easier to get them to comply if they were drugged out of their minds.”

Randi struggled to keep it together. Think. Think!

“You are stalling, little lady.”

Randi held her hand out for the drug. “I’ll take it, but only if you answer some questions.” She was firmer with her request than she felt but it was her life she was trying to save.

“You’re not exactly in a position to negotiate.”

“Think of it more as a last request.”

She sighed. “Okay, but we have to hurry, princess.”

“Why? Why have you really done this? It wasn’t just to help an artist, was it?”

“Well that depends on which artist you mean, now doesn’t it? I was once one of those starving artists. Do you have any idea the depths I can see? Our minds contain whole universes within them, infinite landscapes of wonder and imagination, and yet they’re housed in these frail canvases of meat and bone. Doomed to one day fail us.”

As Georgia spoke Randi’s eyes searched wildly around the room for a solution to her situation. She also heard Dammit barking up a storm outside. Too bad no one else could hear him.

“I had so much to share, and no way to share it. Paints and brushes…you might as well use a sledgehammer to drive a nail. What I wanted to show the world, the world wouldn’t understand, unless it was filtered first. Truman was that filter, someone I allowed to plagiarize my art, because the world can’t appreciate the real thing. Only a safe, sanitized facsimile.”

Randi had to keep her occupied. “What about Liv Leuenberger?”

A sneer crossed her face. “That nosy bitch. She came wanting to do a story on the success of Walnut Ridge for her magazine. Sounded good in theory.”

Georgia’s eyes were no longer focused on Randi, her gaze had drifted as she spoke. “Truman’s art was always dark, but once I started inspiring him, and once he quit being such an infant about it, he was like a born tenor with access to a microphone for the first time. He was finally ready to show the world what he could do. He was ready to give them me.”

Randi’s heartbeat picked up as Georgia paused briefly.

“Liv had seen the difference in the quality and enthusiasm of Truman’s work and questioned me about it one day. Obviously she didn’t know what I was doing for him, but she knew something was going on with Truman.” Georgia shook her head. “Liv had the instincts of a serial killer—or should I say the instincts to catch one. I couldn’t risk that.”

“And Larissa followed in her sister’s steps.”

“Yes.” Georgia motioned for her to drink up. “Time’s up.”

“And Sonja?” She prayed for one final stall tactic to work.

“Sorry, that’s on you. I had taken care of Liv and Larissa…but then you had to start poking your nose, sniffing around, trying to impress the handsome detective into your panties.” Georgia thrust the knife suggestively.

“Sonja was in love with Truman, always has been. Of course he was oblivious of how she felt. With all the recent suspicion around him, she started to doubt his innocence. That’s when she came to you house hunting. She was going to quit the troop. And I couldn’t let that happen. She might have let something slip.”

“And when I decided Truman needed to become the suicidal serial killer, Sonja needed to commit suicide too.” When Georgia saw Randi’s confusion she snapped.

“You really don’t have a creative bone in your body, do you? I’m done with you, quit wasting my time…drink!”

“Please…I have to know.” Randi didn’t want to hear anymore but couldn’t think of any other way to stall.

Short on patience, Georgia ticked off the points of her plan. “Truman commits one final murder and then, having lost all hope and inspiration, kills himself. Distraught over her sweetie pie’s demise, Sonja blames you. She drags you here for a showing and kills you, then herself. It’s symmetry. Tragic unrequited love, mirrored in death and revenge, yet the two are kept forever apart. Voilà, you have your standard murder-suicide scenario. So let’s hurry before you throw off my timeline.” Georgia winked at her.

“And you’re not worried about it all leading back to you once you’re done?”

“Who would suspect ’lil ’ol me? At least until after I’m long gone. I think I’ll try Australia, what’ya think? I can throw another shrimp on the baw-bee with the best of the Sheilas. Live in the Outback, learn to love the taste of crocodile.”

Georgia motioned at her with the knife. “Question time is over. I’m serious this time. Drink up, or we get started without it.”

Trying to stall again would be a mistake, but so would drinking whatever drug she’d been given. Right now Georgia was poised to strike, expecting her to refuse. If she tried to run now, she was as good as dead. Randi needed Georgia to think she’d won, if only for a second. It was her only chance.

Randi lifted the vial to her lips and drank.

Chapter Sixty-Seven

Jon pressed at the corner of his eyes, which were starting to well up. What was wrong with him? He was a cop for fuck’s sake! In all his years, with all the misery and death he had seen, he should be able to hold it together better than this. Even his breakup with Becca had been more anger than hurt. Now here he was trying not to cry over a woman he’d slept with once. How could she have gotten that far under his skin?

He turned off the highway, taking the corner on two wheels. When he straightened out he literally felt the Jeep bounce back down.
Shit!
He needed to slow down, couldn’t afford to crash now. He eyeballed the GPS for the next series of turns. He was unfamiliar with this muddled network of roads and didn’t have a minute to spare by getting lost.

He’d called for backup as soon as he’d left Randi’s office and knew they were just minutes behind him. He also knew that if the killer was motivated those minutes could mean life or death.

The vision he’d had the first time he set foot in her office—the one of them married with kids, in a house where they had breakfast over cartoons on Saturday mornings—those were dreams he didn’t want to give up on.

He thought of all they’d been through, how she challenged him, how she hated his messiness, how they’d drive each other absolutely crazy in any kind of future and he almost laughed. Almost. Because right now he could lose it all.

The thought did him in. He wiped away a tear with the back of his shirtsleeve but others quickly followed. And Jon knew in that instant what Randi Lassiter meant to him, and he couldn’t lose her—not like this. Not ever.

Jon pushed down on the gas and his Jeep slid right past the next turnoff. He made a U-turn in the gravel, nearly tipping over again when he hit the right road. He remembered dispatch’s protests that he should wait for backup before going any further.

Like that was going to happen.