Message of murder trilog.., p.49
Message of Murder Trilogy Complete Collection, page 49
“We both know you won’t shoot me,” he says, his frustrating calm back in full force.
“I will.” The violent shaking of my hands gives me away. “Don’t come any closer.”
“What’s the plan here, Gabby?” He’s so close, I can smell the Aqua Velva.
I draw a blank, not sure what grand idea I thought I'd come up with if it reached this point.
“Make you turn yourselves in,” I stammer. “Face what you’ve done.”
Disappointment washes over his face, and a gun suddenly appears in his hand glinting in the moonlight.
I stare stupidly at the barrel directed at me. Terror courses through my body, freezing me in place. He shot Dustin with this same gun a few hours ago. He’ll shoot me now and I’ll die alone here in the woods. I look to Deidre for help, but mollified by Nathan’s lies, she’s once again enjoying our drama.
“Don’t, please don’t,” I whimper miserably. My chin quivers so badly, my teeth chatter. I cock my .22, knowing it's not match for his larger gun, knowing I won't be able to shoot him.
Desperately, I think of my tattoo, beg it for an answer.
My tattoo is silent.
“Just shoot the liar, Nate,” Deidre coos into the wind.
“We need her,” Nathan argues.
“Don’t go soft now. We’ve done just fine without her,” she urges. “I’ll make it up to you.” Her blatant romantic enticement over my possible murder makes me sick. Poor Lucas and Gregor, this woman is demented. I shift my aim to Deidre.
I could end this with a pull of my trigger. My finger itches to squeeze.
As disgusting as her true self is, I can’t do that to Lucas.
The wind howls around us, gusts against my body, carries the scent of dead raccoon on my glove to my nose. The shack creaks against the strain. A snapping board cracks into the night like a gunshot.
Nathan and Deidre turn their heads.
It’s the advantage I need.
With my gun, I smack the larger gun out of Nathan’s hand. It flops into the snow.
I don’t wait for his reaction.
I run.
Chapter 30
GABBY
Nathan’s longer legs reach me after only a few steps. He pushes me towards the riverbank, then tackles.
Ice at the edge of the river slices at my cheeks.
Desperately, I scramble. Only manage to go farther into the river.
The ice breaks and freezing water envelopes my face.
I wriggle onto my back, gasping air, and push with my legs to escape.
Nathan straddles my body, his hands on my throat.
Water soaks into my coat, the weight of the soggy material pulling me down as Nathan pushes me under.
Air. I need air.
The similarities to the vision from Crystal flow through me. The line between what happened to her and what’s happening to me blurs.
The monster in both is the same.
I claw at his face with one hand and the pressure blessedly releases.
“What’s that smell?” he howls.
“Finish her,” Deidre cheers.
Behind his shoulder, I see the heart spray-painted on the side of the shack. "Lucas loves …."
“Lucas, help me,” I think desperately. “Lucas, please.”
Nathan tightens his grasp on my throat and pushes me under again.
Splashing and gurgling, I swing wildly with the gun still in my hand. It bounces ineffectively off his shoulder.
The gun can serve a better use.
I wriggle against the pressure of his body on mine until I can point the gun at his belly.
Pull the trigger and it’s all over.
I can’t pull the trigger. I want to, I need to.
The cross tattoo on my arm screams into life, the intensity stronger than the stinging embrace of the icy water.
Drop the gun and play dead.
“Or pull the trigger,” I argue in my mind.
DROP THE GUN AND PLAY DEAD.
I’ve never disobeyed the words God tells me through the tattoo before.
I obey them now.
I toss the gun and force myself to go slack.
He pushes me deeper underwater. I stay still.
He shoves until my head grinds into the river bottom. I stay still.
He lets go of my neck. I stay still.
He climbs off me and out of the river. I spring to life.
Gasping and crawling through the ice and snow, I wrap my hand around his ankle. A hard pull and he hits the ground, his face in the snow.
Deidre squeals.
I shove my putrid-smelling glove over his mouth, pummel him with my other fist.
He pries at my fingers, squirms and kicks.
I wrap my arm around him to keep my hand over his mouth, search the ground for a weapon.
My wet gloved fingers find a chunk of ice.
“Not so fun when you can’t breathe,” I hiss near his ear. “Now you know how Crystal felt.”
Deidre shouts, “Stop,” as I lift the block of ice high.
I don’t stop, I slam it into his head.
The ice shatters.
Nathan stops struggling.
“I should have killed you when I had the chance years ago,” Deidre screams.
I roll off Nathan’s still body into the snow.
Framed by the moon overhead, her blond hair blowing in the wind, Deidre points the gun directly at my chest.
“You don’t want to do this,” I plead. “Think of Lucas. He loves me. You’ll break his heart.”
“Nate loves me. That didn’t stop you,” she argues.
“Please, Deidre, just drop the gun. We can work this out.”
“There’s nothing left to work out. You’ve ruined everything,” she wails. “Nate?” She toes his side with her expensive boot. “Nate, baby?”
He either moans in response, or it’s the wind.
“He’s not worth it, Deidre,” I say as calmly as possible with her gun pointed at me. “He killed Crystal.”
“He said he didn’t,” she stammers. “He said it was an accident. He wouldn’t lie to me.”
A deep chill from my soaking clothes makes my teeth chatter. “He lied. That’s what he does.”
“Not to me. He said he loved me.”
She sounds so pitiful, I almost feel sorry for her. A shudder wracks my body and I jerk in the snow.
“Gregor loves you too,” I push, my teeth chattering. “Lucas loves you. Just drop the gun before you do something you'll regret."
Her sorrowful expression is chased away by her fake smile and empty eyes. “I only regret leaving you alive that night.”
I try to crawl away, but my limbs won't listen, are heavy with cold. “D-d-d-Deidre, please.”
My wet hair blows against my face, ice crystals scratching my skin.
“D-d-d-Deidre,” she laughs. “Poor girl. Are you cold?”
“Drop the g-g-gun.” Another shudder shakes me. I try to raise a hand in defense against the crazy woman. My arm moves in slow motion.
She looms over me, hair blowing wildly. "Don't worry about Lucas, dear. He'll never know I was here. Too bad you and Nate had such an awful fight."
My frozen lips struggle to form words. “D-d-drop it.”
“Drop the gun!” The familiar male voice shouts into the clearing. “Drop it now.”
Deidre spins in shock, I sink into the snow in relief.
“Lucas, dear. What are you doing here?" she asks in a completely different voice, sounding like a hostess at a party.
Lucas steps into the moonlight, his gun trained on his mother, his eyes darting around the scene. “What’s going on here?”
“Just a friendly dispute with your girlfriend and her dad,” Deidre tries.
“If it’s friendly, lose the gun,” he barks.
Deidre sets the gun prettily in the snow. “I was just trying to help Gabby,” Deidre lies. “She and Nathan had an argument. She hit him in the head.”
“That’s Nathan McAllister?”
Deidre doesn’t answer and my frozen lips won’t make the words.
Lucas picks up Deidre’s gun then kneels next to me. “Gabby, are you hurt?” His hands roam my body looking for injuries. My mind is sluggish and I can’t focus my eyes.
“She got a little wet. This cold isn’t good for her.”
Lucas strips off my wet coat, then take off his. The coat is warm from his body, and the heat penetrates my chill enough so I can speak.
“Arrest her,” I mutter, sitting up.
“Now, Gabby, what an awful thing to say,” Deidre protests. “She must be delirious.”
Lucas searches my face. I put all my emotions into my expression.
Confused, he decides to trust me.
“I don’t know what’s going on here, but you’re lying about it and you had a gun on Gabby. Put your hands behind your back.”
“Lucas, no,” she pouts, backing away. “You can’t arrest me.”
“I’m just detaining you for now.”
“I won’t let you. I’m your mother.” She continues backing away, her eyes desperate.
“Which is why I’m being polite instead of just cuffing you when I got here. Now give me your hands.”
Deidre spins and attempts to run.
She plows into the side of the shack and bounces off.
The shack shudders at the impact.
Lucas grabs her wrist and wrangles it behind her back.
The shack strains against the howling wind.
The old wood creaks and moans. Slowly, the rotten building leans, shakes. Cracks of breaking wood fill the air. All at once, the shack gives up and crashes to the ground like a pile of broken bones.
A whoosh of putrid air flows out, the stench of years of neglect released from the decrepit walls.
The three of us stare in shock.
“Holy crap,” Deidre says.
“That shack was bound to come down sometime,” Lucas says.
“Not the shack,” Deidre says. “Nate is gone.”
The shape his body left in the snow lies empty like a snow angel. Footprints fade into the woods.
Lucas runs a few steps into the woods, following the trail.
"Don't," I manage to say loud enough to stop him.
Lucas notices my chattering and shivering under his dry coat. “We need to get you out of here,” he says, picking me up and cradling me against his chest. “Mom, don’t try anything stupid and come with me.”
I hate that Lucas has to carry me.
I hate that he had to arrest his own mother.
I hate that Nathan got away again.
With my head lolling against Lucas’ shoulder, a single thought keeps me warm.
My mother will be coming home.
After placing me in the front seat of his cruiser and buckling me in, Lucas opens the back door for Deidre. She squeezes into the cramped seat, muttering her distaste.
If you don’t like being arrested, you shouldn’t have become a criminal.
He starts the car and cranks the heat. “Good thing you said your tire was stuck again,” he says nodding to my Charger parked awkwardly on the side of the road. “Or I wouldn’t have known where to find you.”
“Sorry about that,” I mutter against my shivers.
“You have to stop running into trouble on your own. I’m always here to help.” He glances in the rear-view mirror at his mom. “And you, what the heck is going on here?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she pouts prettily. “It’s all a misunderstanding.”
I yearn to shout about all her ‘misunderstandings’ but this isn’t the place. Lucas will get the whole story soon enough.
“Can you take me home?” I ask.
“You mean to the hospital?”
“I am going to the hospital, but only for Dustin. I just need a shower and some dry clothes first.”
Thinking of Dustin sobers us instantly.
“What happened to Dustin?” Deidre asks.
Is it possible she doesn't know? My anger heats me up. "Nathan shot him tonight. Dustin interrupted the murder of Vee and Lane Markle and was shot for his troubles," I say.
“Oh, my. You were serious when you said that? I thought you were trying to trick us.”
“I’m not a liar, like you,” I snap. Lucas puts his hand on top of mine. “Sorry,” I say again.
We drive into town and through River Bend in silence. Questions in all of our heads. As we turn onto my street, Deidre finally asks. “Did he really kill Crystal?”
She sounds earnest. For the first time since becoming reacquainted with her, she feels like a real woman.
“He did.” The simple honest truth.
Lucas parks in front of my house, my vandalized and scratched garage door bright in his headlights. I open my door and pull off his coat. “You two need to talk. I’m going to shower and change real quick. Then we’ll go see about Dustin.”
I shut the door before Lucas can argue.
They have lots to talk about and don’t need an audience.
What I need is to be warm and dry, Grandma Dot telling me it will all be okay, and Dustin safely out of surgery.
Chapter 31
Gabby
A fresh blanket of snow covers the cemetery, crisp and white and sparkling in the morning sunshine. The tent over our heads rattles with a forlorn sound.
A line of officers, resplendent in their dress blues, stands nearby. The colorful finery contrasts brightly against the new snow.
Grandma Dot sinks into the chair next to me in the front row and takes my hand. Her reassuring squeeze is meant to calm. Her firm grip an anchor against the tide of swirling emotions.
“Dustin would love this,” she says quietly, nodding to the American flag draped on the coffin suspended over the open grave.
“The flowers are lovely, too,” I mutter pointlessly. “Many from his station.”
Further down the row, a child's cry pierces the hushed scene. Alexis puts Walker on her shoulder and bounces with the easy grace of motherhood. Walker shoves his face into her neck, wraps her hair around his pudgy fingers, and settles.
I envy his quick recovery from tears to calm.
Envy his lack of understanding about why we are here at this cemetery this morning.
I scan the gathering crowd for a familiar face, and spot Lucas talking to a group of fellow officers. His dress blue uniform sets off the blue in the eyes that meet mine across the crowd. He gives me a reassuring half-smile and a nod.
It’s what I needed at this moment.
Goosebumps dot my bare legs. It's the third occasion I've had to wear the blue sweater dress Grandma bought me.
My least favorite occasion of the three.
"You cold?" my mom, Emily, asks. "You have goosebumps."
I’m not used to hearing her voice in real life. Not used to the freedom to touch her hand. I take that hand in mine. Try not to think about how thin she feels.
She’s home with us now.
“I’m good,” I reply. “Not a great event for you to come home to.”
“No, it’s not,” she says softly. She releases my hand and puts her arm around my shoulders. She runs her fingers through my curls. I lean into her shoulder and drink in the moment.
She’s home with us now.
At the far edge of the cemetery, a news van parks. “Lacey and her crew are here,” I say to Grandma Dot.
“She better leave you alone until this is over,” Grandma replies with narrowed eyes. “This is a family matter.”
I swallow hard and clench a fist against my thigh. “Family matter,” I repeat.
The seats under the tent fill up and a crowd of people forms a swarm around us. "Good turn out," Alexis says, patting Walker on the back. "Dustin would be pleased." Her eyes slide away from the coffin and drift to the waiting hearse with its dark windows. She stares at the hearse with eyes worn from worry.
Scanning the crowd again, I find Lucas and give him a tight smile. I wish he could be sitting here with me, but he takes his position in the line of officers next to Chief Simmons.
The pastor from Grandma’s church steps forward as the last few stragglers join the group of mourners. A hush settles over the crowd.
I swallow hard again and focus on my breathing to stay calm. The pastor begins speaking and I run my hands down my thighs nervously.
My tattoo begins to tingle and I snap my gaze to Lucas.
He’s been watching me intently, ready.
As the pastor continues speaking, Lucas steps away from the formal line of officers and into the crowd of mourners.
My eyes follow him, but from my seat at the front of the service, I can’t see over the crush of people.
I grab both Grandma Dot and Mom’s hands and squeeze hard.
“Nathan McAllister, put your hands up.” Lucas barks over the pastor’s calm voice.
“We got him,” I bubble with excitement. "We got him."
I push through the crowd of plain-clothed officers. He’s dyed his hair and shaved his beard in an attempt to disguise himself. When we thought he was dead, it was easy for him to sneak into Dustin’s basketball games and other important moments in our lives.
Today we were all on the lookout.
Nathan attempts to run, dashes around the gravestones.
Lucas is right behind him, and I'm only a few steps behind.
Nathan trips over a pile of uneven dirt hidden under the snow, remnants from the exhumation of Crystal. I picked this location on purpose.
Lucas is on him before he can wriggle away.
I jump onto the pile, unable to stop myself.
Lucas gets one of Nathan's wrists twisted behind his back and I pull the other wrist. A circle of plain-clothed officers surrounds us, in on the ruse.
Someone sniggers at my involvement.
“Quite a girl you got there, Hartley.”
I don't care if they make fun of me. I don't care if this should be done by the police.
The whole plan to catch him was my idea. I wouldn’t miss it.
Lucas straddles Nathans back, holding his wrists in place. I stand and put my foot on his neck the way I’ve seen officers do on TV. Nathan’s umph of pain fills me with sick satisfaction.
"I knew you wouldn't miss Dustin's funeral," I hiss at the man.
