The Liar, Page 55

  He took a slow sip of beer, smiled at her. “I toss the kid over, and it’s easy money you’d go right over after her. I wouldn’t have to put a mark on either one of you.”

  “You’re a monster.”

  “I’m a winner. I’d scuttle the boat, get my scuba gear. With my new ID and a change of clothes in a waterproof pouch, I’d have made it to Hilton Head in a few hours. Which is what I did—without you along.”

  “The squall.”

  “Unexpected bonus.”

  “You could’ve died out there. Why risk dying?”

  “You don’t get it, never will.” He leaned toward her, that light glowing again. “That’s the point, that’s the rush. All I had to do was dump the tanks, catch a cab and pick up the car I had waiting in long-term parking at the airport. Drive to Savannah and my drop box there. Wouldn’t have needed that if I damn could have found the key for my box in Philly.”

  He watched her while he took another sip of beer. “You got into that. Where was the key?”

  “In the pocket of your leather jacket, the bronze one I gave you for your birthday two years back. It had gone through a little hole and into the lining of the jacket.”

  “Well, son of a bitch.” He gave a half-laugh, shook his head as he might over a missed putt on the green. “That key would have saved me some time and trouble. Either way, I’m dead. The way it turned out, you got to play the grieving widow for a while. How did that suit you?”

  “I wish it had been true.”

  He laughed, toasted her with his beer. “Coming back to the boonies brought some of that sass back. Let’s see if a little housework knocks it back out of you.” He rose, went back in the kitchen.

  When he picked up a bottle of bleach and a scrub brush, she got to her feet.

  “You want me to clean up the blood?”

  “You’re going to clean up the blood, unless you want to clean up your own along with it.”

  “I can’t—”

  He swung out with the back of his left hand, quick as a snake, striking her across the cheekbone hard enough to send her stumbling back and into the chair again.

  She didn’t know why the blow shocked her, now that she knew him. Really knew him. But he’d never hit her before.

  “God! I’ve wanted to do that for years!” The furious pleasure on his face iced her blood. He could, and would, do more than knock her down if she bucked him. Even as he stepped toward her, she held up a trembling hand.

  And again it was more rage than fear.

  But she let only the fear show. “I just meant I need a bucket. I need a bucket of water and—and a mop. I can’t get it cleaned up with just the bleach and a brush. That’s all I meant. Please, don’t hurt me.”

  “Why the fuck didn’t you say so?”

  She let her head hang, and thinking of never seeing Callie again, her family, never seeing Griff, let tears come.

  Let him see the tears, she thought, let him think that’s all that’s in me.

  “You start sniveling, I’ll give you worse than a love tap. Go find a damn bucket. Make a move I don’t like, you will be mopping up your own blood.”

  She went into the kitchen, scanning, scanning. No knife block, but surely there was a knife in a drawer. And there was a good cast iron skillet still on the stove, and a coffeepot. Filled with hot coffee that would make a weapon.

  She looked under the sink, considered her options there, then in a skinny closet. There she found a broom, mop, bucket. Some old cord, some rusty chain, butane lighter fluid, bug spray.

  She considered grabbing the bug spray, aiming for his eyes with that as the pepper spray was in the purse she’d left in her car. But he was nearly on top of her.

  She took out the mop, the bucket, filled the bucket with hot soapy water.

  She carted it over to the largest smear of blood.

  “I need to use the bathroom.”

  “Hold it,” he advised.

  “I’ll do what you tell me to do. I just want to get through this, Richard, but I need to use the bathroom.”

  He narrowed his eyes. She kept her gaze downcast, her shoulders slumped.

  “Right there. Door stays open.”

  “If you won’t give me privacy, at least don’t look at me.”

  She walked to the tiny bathroom—razors maybe in the old medicine cabinet? A window too small for her to wiggle through if she had the chance.

  She put the seat down on the toilet while he hovered in the doorway.

  “Just don’t look at me!” She let out a choked sob. “The door’s open, you’re standing right there. I’m just asking you not to watch me. For God’s sake.”

  He leaned against the jamb, cast his eyes up to the ceiling. “Awful dainty for someone one step up from an outhouse.”

  She smothered her sensibilities, lifted her skirt, pulled down her panties. And shot her hand in her pocket.

  Please God, if you’re listening, let this make sense. Let this go through.

  When she was done, heat flushed her face.

  “Jesus, look at you, sweaty, splotchy, your hair like something a rat wouldn’t nest in. I don’t know how I ever got it up with you.”

  She dipped the mop in the bucket, wrung it out, began to wash up the blood.

  “And what’s your pithy comeback? Hurt feelings.” He made crying noises. “God, you’re weak. You think that asshole you’re fucking now’s going to stick?”

  “He loves me.” Saying it, knowing it, steadied her.

  “Love? You’re a handy piece of ass. It’s all you ever were, all you’d ever be. A handy piece of ass who’ll splash around in some backwoods creek.”

  She froze, and slowly lifted her gaze. “You spied on us, on me?”

  “I could’ve taken you both out.” He lifted the gun, pointed it at her head. Said, “Pow, pow. But I wanted to lay it on Jimmy’s plate. A nice, tidy circle.”

  “But you killed Jimmy.”

  “Unavoidable alteration in plans. Don’t worry, I’ve got it covered. I always do. Put your back into it, Shelby.”

  She went back to mopping, and began to make plans of her own.

  • • •

  GRIFF GOT HUNG UP talking construction with Derrick, lost track of some time. He had Shelby’s champagne, but he didn’t have Shelby. A glance around showed him Bitsy was back—a little damp-eyed as she danced with her future son-in-law.

  Shelby was probably dealing with some other small crisis, he thought, but set out to look for her.

  “Hey, Griff, hey!” Crystal came over, pointed at the glass of champagne. “Is that up for grabs?” She took it, drank deep. “I need it after drying Miz Bitsy up. She was watering like a leaky pipe.”

  “Looks like you and Shelby got it done.”

  “Oh, it was just me—that’s why I was looking for you, but I got waylaid a couple times. It’s a hell of a party! Shelby had to run home for a minute. Get Fifi for Callie. She should be back by now, I guess.”

  “When did she go?”

  “Oh, I don’t know exactly since I was dealing with the leaky pipe, then Miz Bitsy’s sister—they call her Sugar?—she came in so the two of them were leaking together. I guess it’s been about twenty minutes or so. She should be back or on her way.”

  Maybe it was the dregs of all that had happened, but the dread just dropped over him like a shroud. He yanked out his phone, intended to call her, and it signaled an incoming text in his hand.

  “It’s Shelby.”

  “There you go.” Crystal patted his arm. “She’s just letting you know she’s on her way back, I expect. No call to look so worried, honey.”

  But when he brought up the text the bottom dropped out of his world.

  “Where’s Forrest?”

  “Forrest? I just saw him over that-a-way flirting with a pretty blonde. I—”

  But Griff was already moving, and fast. He cut across the dance floor, ignoring those who called out a greeting. He spotted Forrest, and what he felt must have sho
wed on his face. After a casual glance in his direction, Forrest’s eyes went cold.

  He turned away from the blonde without a word.

  “What happened?”

  “She’s in trouble.” Griff held out the phone.

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  “Christ.”

  “What’s BB Road?”

  “Black Bear Road. Wait.” Forrest clamped a hand on Griff’s arm before his friend could take off. “You’re not going to find her driving hell-bent all over the hills.”

  “I’m not going to find her standing here.”

  “We’re not going to be. Nobby’s over by the bar there. Get him. I’m calling it in.”

  “I’m going after her, Forrest.”

  “Not saying different, but we’re going to go with the best chance of finding her. Get Nobby.”

  They pulled Nobby outside, and Clay and Matt with them.

  “We’re going to do this smart,” Forrest began. “Two men to a team. The sheriff’s putting more together right now. We’re going to blanket the area west of town. Odds are he’ll keep to the back roads. Clay, you look here.”

  Clay clamped a hand on Forrest’s shoulder, leaned in to look at the map on his phone. “You and Nobby are going to cover this section here. You keep your eyes peeled for that vehicle, that license plate. Matt, you sure about this?”

  “Hell yes.”

  “I’m going to have you go into town, hook up with the sheriff, he’ll—”

  “What’s going on here?” Viola stepped outside. “What’s happened? Where’s Shelby?”

  Griff only waited a beat. “You’re wasting time figuring out what you should say or not, Pomeroy. Richard’s alive—I don’t know how—and he has her. We’re going after her.”

  The color drained out of her face, made her eyes blaze like blue fire. “Boy, if you’re putting a posse together, your granddaddy and I are going to be part of it.”

  “Granny—”

  “Don’t Granny me,” she snapped at Forrest. “Who taught you to shoot?”

  “I’m going now,” Griff said.

  “Nobby, set it up from here, will you? Griff and I are going.”

  “Callie,” Viola called out.

  “She’s fine, Griff checked, and we’ve got a man there sitting on the house right now.” Forrest kept going, opened the lockbox on the side of his truck, took out a Remington rimfire rifle, a box of ammo.

  “I’ve seen you shoot so I know you can handle it.”

  Target shooting was as far as Griff had gone, ever, but he didn’t argue.

  Forrest got in the truck, took his favored Colt out of the glove box. “We’re going to get her back, Griff.”

  “Not sitting here, we won’t.”

  “I’m counting on you to keep a cool head.” Even as he spoke, Forrest punched the gas and they were flying. “We’re going to keep your phone open, in case she’s able to send you another message. Use mine to coordinate with the other teams as they come along. The sheriff’s already pulled in the federals. They got equipment we don’t run to in the Ridge, and better techs. Shelby keeps her head, keeps her phone on, they’re going to track it.”

  “He had to be watching her, or be in the house when she went back.”

  “We’ll find out when we get her back.”

  “He’s going to be the one who killed the woman.”

  Forrest’s face was stone as the speedometer inched higher. “I wouldn’t bet against it.”

  “I saw him, I think. I got a bad feeling about the guy I saw—when I took Callie to the bookstore, then to the park. He played me.”

  “Let’s worry about now.”

  The now had fear tearing through his heart, his head, his belly. “He has to have somewhere to go. Shelby said he never did anything without a reason.”

  “We’ll find him, and we’ll get her back. Safe.”

  Before Griff could respond, his phone signaled. “It’s Shelby. Jesus, she’s got nerves of steel.” He struggled to read the jumbled text as they flew around switchbacks. “Old Hester Road, I think she means Hester.”

  “I know where she means. It’s Odd Hester. Scatter of cabins and old campsites, deer stands up that way. Remote. You relay that, Griff, to Nobby, and he’ll take it from there.”

  “What the hell does he want with her?”

  “Whatever he wants, he’s not going to get it.”

  Ice, sharp and jagged, poured in through the tearing fear. “How far away are we?”

  “A ways, but we’re traveling a hell of a lot faster than they are. Bring the others along now, Griff.”

  He made the relay, yanked off his formal tie.

  He wouldn’t lose her. He would not lose her. Callie would not lose her mother. Whatever had to be done, he’d do it. He looked at the rifle across his lap.

  Whatever had to be done.

  “She’s sending another. Right hardpack track past mulberry stand. Single cabin. Truck. There’s a truck already at the cabin.”

  “Might have more hostages. Or it might be his old partner. Let the others know.”

  Griff couldn’t say how Forrest kept the truck on the road, not at this speed, not around turns so sharp they could cut bone. More than once they fishtailed or the tires kissed the narrow shoulder.

  And still it wasn’t fast enough.

  “She’s sending . . . it says . . . William, she means William. William Bunty.”

  “Bounty,” Forrest corrected. “I know where it is. She’s guiding us in faster than the fucking feds ever could.”

  “How far?”

  “Ten minutes.”

  “Make it less.” With hands cold as steel, Griff began to load the rifle.

  • • •

  SHELBY EMPTIED the bucket twice, refilled it.

  Stalling, as nothing was going to remove the stains from the old wood floor.

  But she poured a puddle of bleach from the bucket on the stain, got down on her hands and knees to scrub at it.

  “Now that’s the kind of job you’re suited for.”

  “Scrubbing floors is honest work.”

  “Loser work. You lived the high life for a while. I gave you that.” He gave her a nudge in the ass with his foot. “I gave you a good taste of the high life. You should be grateful.”

  “You gave me Callie, so I’m grateful. You always meant to kill them, didn’t you, the people you ran with, the woman who you lived with—she said you married her. Did you?”