Blood will tell, p.27
Blood Will Tell, page 27
Izzy started to turn away from that distant light when she sensed movement. Her head snapped back in that direction, and she grew suddenly dizzy. For a moment, she wondered if Rachel might still be alive.
No, she decided quickly. No way could Rachel survive an attack that brutal.
Izzy closed her eyes against the vertigo and began climbing again. When she neared the top of the slope, she shot to her feet and stumbled upward and broke into an awkward jog toward her mom’s car. She knew she was in no condition to drive, but maybe she could make it half a mile up the road. Then she would call Frankie. Her sister would know what to do. She always knew what to do.
41
Thoughts fought for space in my brain, tangling. While I worked to unravel them, Izzy was already halfway up the steep and uneven mountainside, moving as blindly toward Tobin as she had toward that lake when she nearly drowned. Once again, oblivious to the danger. She hadn’t put it together like I had.
When the Uber driver had dropped me off that night, there had been only two other vehicles parked alongside the road: our parents’ sedan, and the Jeep parked a mile away. I hadn’t considered that, even had Tobin returned to the apartment he shared with Chuck, he would’ve had just enough time to sneak out and make the trek back to Geysers Road.
In a rush, it all made sense. When I had approached Tobin at his work, he had been reluctant for me to see his car. He had waited for me to leave so I wouldn’t know which vehicle was his. The references to Chuck having a thing with Rachel, too, had come from Tobin. No one else had mentioned the possibility of a relationship between the two of them, nor had they mentioned Chuck acting “odd” around her.
When they had played the game, according to Izzy, Tobin had laid his jacket on the ground for his sister, even though it left him shivering. When Ben and Rachel went off for their private talk, it was Tobin who followed.
And the night I found Piper in my home, she had paled when I told her about seeing the Jeep that night. She hadn’t thought much of Ben. If it had been him, she would’ve had no problem sharing that fact with me, and the police. But she liked Tobin. She would’ve wanted to check it out before she accused him of murdering his own sister.
Then there was what Marina thought she’d heard the day before her sister disappeared.
No, Ben. I don’t feel up to it.
Had Marina misheard? Had Rachel really said, Tobin, I don’t feel up to it?
I remembered thinking that Tobin blamed himself for his sister’s death. And he did, but not because he didn’t prevent it—because he caused it.
And now, with Piper dead, I was the only one who knew about the Jeep being here that night.
I raced after Izzy, but by the time I reached the top of the slope, she was already by Tobin’s side.
“I’m glad you’re here, actually,” she said. “I wanted to apologize.”
“Oh?”
“I could’ve done more to help Rachel that night.”
The heat blasted my face. Izzy was inches from him. At his hip, his T-shirt bulged. I tried to keep my voice neutral. “You here to say goodbye to Rachel too?”
He studied me. “I heard you two invited Marina up here. That was kind of you, to include her.”
Keeping a few feet between us, I tried to catch Izzy’s eye, but she was focused on Tobin. “Marina’s great,” she said.
I wished I had a weapon. But with a man Tobin’s size, and with my own inexperience with weapons, anything I might have had likely would’ve been used against me instead. “We should probably go,” I said. “We wouldn’t want to intrude on your grief.”
Izzy finally looked at me. She’d heard something in my voice. But I feared Tobin had heard it too. His gaze grew more intense. Darkness rippled at the back of his eyes.
“You aren’t intruding at all. It’s comforting to be able to share the experience with someone who knows what really happened that night.”
Was there a threat buried in that? I looked past him, toward the road.
“Honestly, we’ve been here awhile, and I’m getting hungry.” I grabbed Izzy’s arm. Tension caused my fingers to dig into her flesh, and she winced. I could tell she didn’t know why I was acting the way I was, but she trusted me enough to take her place by my side.
After staring at me a moment, Izzy said, “I’m actually starving too. I skipped breakfast.”
She’d told me earlier that because of nerves, she’d finished half a box of cereal that morning. She might not know what was happening, but she was going along with it.
I took a step, but Tobin blocked the way. He cocked his head, studying me. The intensity of it felt like knives on my skin. “I heard Ben is still insisting he’s innocent.”
I understood then. The sketchbook had been planted for Marina to find. The drawing of the Dalí painting crowded in the corner. The one that had seemed out of place, but which Izzy easily identified. Then the knife that had been left for the police. When Rachel’s body was found—when I started asking too many questions—Tobin must’ve known someone had to take the blame. He had played us all. But now I feigned ignorance. “Is he? It doesn’t matter. We all know he did it.”
Tobin’s posture held no tension, his face relaxed too.
“Right?” he said. “Who else would do such a horrible thing?”
After he’d defended Ben so fiercely before, I got the feeling he was toying with me now. That his facade was cracking. When his hand settled near his waist, a chill traced my spine.
Time stretched, his darkening expression warning me there would be no coming back from whatever came next. He looked at his Jeep, then back at me. Finally, he said, “You’ve figured it out.”
There was no response I could give that would help me. “I don’t know what you mean.”
His smirk told me he didn’t believe me. He crossed the few feet that separated us, then sighed deeply and draped his arm on my shoulder. He pulled me to him, squeezing hard enough that I flinched.
“I didn’t mean to hit Mark, you know. I thought Marina knew more than she did.” So when Marina had called home from Mark’s place, caller ID had likely displayed Mark’s number. It would’ve been easy enough for Tobin to trace that to Mark’s address. But with both his sister and Mark moving so quickly, he had misjudged his target. He seemed relieved to finally be sharing his secret. “But looks like I won’t have to kill my sister after all. Which is good. That would ruin my mom.”
After the night five years before, I had done a lot of research on what happens when a pedestrian and car collide. I knew the bumper would crash into the legs, throwing the body against the hood before it was then thrown into the road. The head would hit hard—the hood, the windshield, the asphalt. Or the pedestrian could be knocked beneath the car, in the path of its tires. Skulls were often fractured. Pelvises broken. Organs ruptured.
That this man had, on an impulse, tried to inflict that kind of damage on Marina, and that he had nearly killed Mark, enraged me. And that he had stabbed Rachel and Piper—I fought for breath, even as terror surged at the certainty that he intended the same for me and Izzy.
Heart knocking, I shifted in his grasp, becoming a shield between him and Izzy. He still held me so tightly I could barely breathe, but I straightened my spine. It took effort, building the illusion that I was okay, when all I wanted to do was give up my fight against gravity and collapse. I hardened my jaw and tilted it in defiance. My body language lied. It said that whatever happened next, I was ready. But I knew my eyes gave me away. They widened and burned with unshed tears, more angry than sad.
Better me than her.
Tobin reached into his waistband and pulled out a knife, still holding me tightly despite how I fought against him. When Izzy saw the blade, she stepped forward.
The rest happened in seconds. Tobin released me abruptly and shoved. I stumbled, landing on the ground several feet away. I scrambled to my feet, but he was already reaching for her—one hand still fisted around the hilt of the knife, the other empty and open. He meant to stab her.
But the angle of the blade was wrong. Up instead of out. Understanding what he intended, I lurched toward them and grabbed for his arm, but too slowly. Too late.
When Tobin’s fist and palm landed on Izzy’s chest, he twisted his head slightly so that our eyes locked. Then he turned back toward her and pushed.
42
Less than five feet from the cliff’s edge, Izzy staggered backward, arms flailing to find my outstretched hand, but even as I lunged forward, I remained just beyond her reach. She skidded, and then there was nothing under her but air.
She fell, fingers grabbing, wind pushing her toward the mountainside below.
My body vibrated as I stumbled to the edge. Afraid to look. Needing to look. My face felt hot, my neck clammy. In my veins, adrenaline pulsed.
I saw her, about thirty feet below. She was still. How long had she been in the air before landing? I prayed she had fallen on a spot of wild grass and rolled down the slope. The mountainside seemed to be nothing but jagged rocks and steep drop-offs.
I felt a tap on my shoulder. When I turned, Tobin was still holding the knife in his right hand, his other extended palm up. He demanded my phone and keys. I didn’t care about either. At the moment, all I cared about was my sister, likely unconscious thirty feet down the slope.
My eyes darted, settling on each part of the world around me: the golden slope with its patches of brush. The weeds. The road glimpsed just over his shoulder.
He noticed my interest and shook his head. “No one can see us from the road, and even if they do, you really going to leave your sister to die down there? Like you did Rachel?”
At my feet, a small weed spiraled, all green leaves and tiny purple flowers. Yellow flowers sprouted from barbed shrubs, and wild grasses grew as high as our knees. I fought the urge to pulverize all of it with the toe of my sneaker.
I tried to get him talking until I could figure something out. “You came here to kill me. Why?”
He shook his head. “I didn’t come to kill you. At least, I hoped I wouldn’t have to. Just had to be sure. But then I saw that look of recognition on your face.”
Apparently that was all he felt like saying, because he stepped forward, all coiled energy, and I saw his intention in the slight twitch in his right shoulder. The way he planted his feet. All in an instant, but my reaction was just as fast. He blocked the road, so there was only one direction to go. Down. Even if I ended up falling, at least I wouldn’t be alone down there. I would have Izzy.
I jumped back, turned quickly, and stepped onto the slope, letting momentum pull me toward where my sister waited. I had nothing to lose, and that made me reckless. The grasses slapped at my knees, small rocks jutting from the earth in odd spots, but I stumble-ran down the slope.
My breath exploded from my lungs in ragged bursts. So loud that it took me a moment to realize Tobin wasn’t behind me.
Reaching Izzy, I stared up toward the spot where he had been standing. He wasn’t there. Then suddenly he came into view again. He paused, for no longer than it took me to draw a breath, and then he started down after me.
His steps were more careful than mine had been. He had the advantage. I scanned for weapons, but then I heard it. The crunching of weeds. My attention flashed to the spot where I’d seen my sister. Less than ten feet away now. She was struggling to sit. Her hand flew to her head, and she winced.
Before I could ask, she rasped: “I’m okay. Just shaken up.”
“You sure?”
She nodded, but when she tried to stand, she flinched. I rushed to close the gap, but she extended her arm, palm out, in the universal gesture for stop. “I rolled most of the way. Ankle might be sprained, but that’s better than being dead, right?”
She tried to play it off, but I saw how much even a slight movement cost her. She limped a few steps.
“So what’s the plan?” she asked.
Hell if I know. “Move.”
We needed to get to the truck. “Phone?” I asked, reaching for Izzy to offer her support. She shook her head and took the lead, advancing slowly sideways through the knee-high grass, wincing whenever her foot caught a fissure in the earth.
As she walked, she patted her pockets. Finally, she said, “No phone. What happened to yours?”
With a tilt of my head, I gestured in Tobin’s direction. “He took it.”
Tobin was closer now. Maybe twenty feet away. He had adjusted his course so that he came for us on a diagonal, and with his longer stride and two good ankles, he was closing the gap quickly.
We had to get back to the road. We needed to move as quickly as we could up the mountainside. But I hesitated.
It was Izzy who started moving first. On the rough terrain, her gait was awkward as she favored her injured ankle, and sweat beaded her brow, but she clambered up the slope quickly.
Muscles burning, I ran, too, Izzy beside me. She stumbled, and I grabbed her elbow again. This time, she didn’t fight it.
Tobin was less than ten feet away now. In his effort to move faster, the hand holding the knife had relaxed at his side.
My toe jammed against the root of an oak tree. I lurched forward, hand still clamped to Izzy’s elbow, nearly taking her down with me.
A plan started to form. A really bad plan. But it was the only one I had.
I released Izzy and took a step back. I placed my palm in the small of her back, urging her forward.
Then I slowed. Tobin grew so near that I could hear his footfalls, heavy and quick. I stopped abruptly and turned. Instead of heading away from him, I raced forward. My hands shot out in front of me, and I planted them on his chest, just as he raised the knife. He nicked my arm, but I pushed as hard as I could. He faltered, then he fell, and gravity pulled him down the slope.
My gaze dropped to the wound. The scratch welled with the promise of blood. But it was a minor injury. A couple of Julian’s bug Band-Aids, and I’d be as good as new.
The larger threat was Tobin, who still held the knife and was already halfway to his feet.
I sprinted, catching up with Izzy. Together, we scrabbled up the mountainside.
With my legs on fire and Izzy’s sprained ankle, I didn’t know how we managed to ascend the slope, or why Tobin didn’t follow more quickly. Maybe he thought a thirty-second delay didn’t matter, since he had my keys. But the Barreras had a thing about spares, one of which was hidden on the inside of my bumper.
When we reached the truck, though, I quickly realized the spare key would do us no good. The tires were pancaked on the ground. All four of them flat.
They had been slashed. We were stuck.
“Can we drive on them?” Izzy asked, breathless. She swayed. How much longer could she remain standing?
“Not far.”
The flattened rubber would cushion the rims for a while. If we drove at a slow speed, we could make it a short distance before the wheels were damaged. But we were miles away from . . . anything. In his fully functioning Jeep, Tobin would catch up with us in no time.
Which meant we needed to disable Tobin’s Jeep too.
I reached in the backseat for the bottle of water I had discarded earlier. When I started jogging down the road, Izzy followed.
Though it was only a short distance, my lungs and legs cramped. When we reached Tobin’s Jeep, luck was, finally, with us. Probably cocky because of the remote location, Tobin hadn’t thought to lock his Jeep. I pushed the release to open his fuel tank.
Damn it. Tobin had a locking gas cap. So much for luck.
When Izzy noticed, too, she said, winded, “Can’t we let the air out of his tires?”
I squatted, then swore again as I shook my head. The Jeep had run-flat tires. Even if we let the air out, Tobin would be able to drive much farther, and faster, than we would.
I inhaled sharply and closed my eyes: Think, Frankie, think. Tobin had to be close. How close?
When I opened my eyes again, Izzy had already grabbed a rock. She pounded the gas cap. After several blows, the plastic shattered.
At my expression of surprise, she arched a brow. “You do finesse, I break things.”
If there had been time, I would’ve hugged her. Instead, I opened my bottle of water and removed the gas cap. I emptied the bottle into the tank. Since water was heavier than gas, it would sink to the bottom. The Jeep wouldn’t start, at least not until the tank was emptied and filled with new gas.
I allowed myself a breath, but it was small cause for celebration. We had no real advantage. We had just leveled the playing field.
Tobin wasn’t far away. Taking cautious steps because he knew he had us. I thought of Rachel, and the terror she must’ve felt running up this slope, stabbed and bleeding. Into the front of Izzy’s car.
I realized, suddenly, we did have a weapon. One that weighed several thousand pounds.
I reached inside the Jeep and released its emergency brake. Shifted it into neutral.
“Push,” I shouted.
But Izzy had already moved to the other side of the vehicle. It was pointed in the right direction: facing the embankment. Toward where Tobin picked his way through the brush. I threw all of my weight against the Jeep’s frame. On her side, Izzy did the same. The Jeep rocked, moving only inches. I worried suddenly that our strength wouldn’t be enough. But then it started to roll. One foot. Two. Aided by our adrenaline and the vehicle’s momentum, it picked up speed.
Understanding the danger, Tobin quickly looked left, then right, but boulders and a steep and uneven terrain prevented quick movement. He jumped to the left. Faster than I thought he could move. But not fast enough.
The Jeep clipped the lower half of his body. Pinned him beneath its front tires. His scream echoed. When the rear tires ran over him, he was past screaming.
The Jeep crashed against the rusted framework that had been pictured on that last page of Tobin’s sketchbook. A relic from the past. Below us, Tobin remained unconscious on the ground not far from where he’d stabbed his sister.
