J
amie sat on the armrest of a beige-and-green chair, unable to move. She heard the front door open and close. In a matter of minutes, at least one woman would be dead, and more likely two. If I’m lucky, Jamie was thinking, he’ll kill me too.
“Emma?” a woman called from the front hall. The house felt unnaturally still, as if it were holding its breath.
“I’m in the living room,” Emma called back. Her voice sounded distant and strained, as if she were in another part of the house, and not sitting in the seat right beside Jamie.
“I’m sorry to barge in on you like this. I know I said I’d come by later.” A pretty young woman with blond hair and anxious eyes appeared in the entranceway to the room. Brad had said his ex-wife’s name was Beth, but Emma insisted her friend’s name was Lily. “I hope I’m not catching you at a bad time.”
Jamie saw the look of confusion settle quickly onto Lily’s face as she scanned the room. She wondered if she had any sense of the danger lurking and tried to crawl inside Lily’s head, to absorb the scene from her perspective: her friend,
Emma, was sitting, ashen-faced and ramrod straight, in the chair at right angles to her sofa. A stranger was perched on the chair’s armrest, her eyes blackened and her chin bruised, the bruises in sharp contrast to the beautiful gold-and-pearl earrings she was wearing.
“I’m sorry,” Lily stammered. “I didn’t realize you had company.”
“That’s all right,” Emma said, although clearly, it was not.
“I’ll come back later.”
“No, don’t go,” Emma said, her voice a plea. “Please, come in.”
“You’re sure I’m not interrupting anything?”
“You aren’t.”
Jamie wondered if Emma was going to introduce them.
“I’m Lily,” the woman said before Emma had a chance, offering her hand as she approached. “I live down the street.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” Jamie responded, keeping her hands at her sides. “Lily, you said?”
“Well, actually, it’s Lily-Beth,” Lily elaborated. “I dropped the ‘Beth’ about a year ago. But in the interest of full disclosure—” She broke off, her cheeks blushing bright pink as she glanced toward Emma. “We can talk about that later. You are …?”she asked, looking back at Jamie.
“Jamie. Jamie Kellogg.”
“Kellogg?” Lily repeated, obviously more to fill the awkward silence than from any real interest. “Any relation to the cereal people?”
“No,” Jamie responded, without shaking her head. It hurt too much to move.
“Sorry. You probably get asked that all the time.”
“Not so much anymore,” Jamie said. Were they really having this conversation?
Again Lily glanced at her friend.
Did she not notice how stiffly Emma was sitting? Jamie wondered. Did she not realize that her hands had remained motionless behind her back throughout their entire exchange? That a tight rope bound her hands together, digging into the soft flesh at her wrists?
If she did, Lily gave no such indication. “What about you guys?” she was asking. “Are you two related?”
Emma said nothing.
Lily slowly lowered herself to the edge of the brown sofa, her eyes falling on a small brass bowl lying carelessly on its side on the center cushion. “You
did
take it!” she exclaimed, spinning around suddenly toward Emma. “I don’t believe you. How could you do this?”
“I’m so sorry,” Emma stammered as tears filled her eyes.
“I don’t understand. Why would you …?” Her gaze shifted from Emma to Jamie. “What’s going on here?”
Jamie held her breath. She felt a slight stir in the air, saw Brad push himself out of his hiding place in a corner of the dining room. He raised his fingers to his lips, warning her to be silent. Was there any way she could warn Lily? Was there any way she could atone, at least in part, for what had happened in Atlanta?
“Okay, clearly I’m interrupting something here,” Lily was saying. “And I have to be back at work in a few minutes anyway, so”—she pushed herself to her feet as Brad ducked back into his hiding place—“I’ll take this back to Jan, and we can talk later.”
Neither Emma nor Jamie moved.
Lily walked to the entrance of the living room, hesitated, then stopped.
Don’t stop, Jamie tried to warn her with her eyes. Run. Run as fast as you can.
Run for your life.
“Look, is something wrong?” Lily asked, unaware that Brad was now creeping toward her, that he was only inches from her back.
She had to do something, Jamie thought frantically. She had to warn her. She couldn’t just sit here and let him murder another human being in cold blood. The way he’d murdered Laura Dennison. The way he’d murdered Grace Hastings. The way he’d murdered that appliance salesman from Philadelphia. The way he’d murdered God only knew who else.
“Going somewhere, Lily-Beth?” he asked.
Jamie watched the color drain from Lily’s face. She understood that Lily didn’t have to turn around to know who was there, that she didn’t have to see Brad to know he was smiling. She watched Lily’s eyes close, as if accepting her sad fate. Perhaps she’d known all along that someday he would find her. Perhaps she was relieved that day had finally come.
And then suddenly, Lily was spinning around, slamming the brass trophy into the side of Brad’s head and using the confusion of the moment to throw herself toward the front door. Jamie tried to follow suit, but her legs refused to move. She watched helplessly as Brad, blood pouring from the fresh wound to his head, wrapped his arms around Lily’s rib cage, like a deadly python, squeezing the breath from her lungs as he lifted her, kicking and gasping for air, and carried her back
into the living room, where he tossed her to the floor at Jamie’s feet.
“Okay, Emma-girl,” he directed the whimpering young woman in the seat beside her, “you come over here to me while Jamie ties Beth’s hands behind her back. And her feet too,” he said, grabbing Emma’s arm as she staggered toward him, and pressing the knife against her throat. “I’ll gut her like a pig if you don’t do exactly what I tell you,” he warned Jamie.
Emma’s complexion went from pale to ashen. A small cry escaped her lips. Lily didn’t move as Jamie retrieved the rope hidden beneath the white stacking tables. She offered no resistance as Jamie tied her hands behind her, listening to Emma whimper as the blade danced across the veins in her neck.
“Make sure that’s nice and secure,” Brad warned.
Jamie finished tying Lily’s wrists behind her back, then began securing her feet. Could she really be doing this? Could she be rendering another woman as helpless as she was? Two nights ago she’d waited in the car as Brad slaughtered a defenseless old woman. Today she’d graduated to the role of full-fledged accomplice. And it didn’t matter that she had no real choice, that he would kill her if she didn’t comply. The chances were good he’d kill her anyway. If not today, then tomorrow. Or the day after that.
Besides, there was always a choice.
And there were three of them, she reminded herself. Three of them and only one of him. Although even with those odds, Jamie knew it wouldn’t be a fair fight. Three battered and terrified women were no match for one knife-wielding lunatic.
“Tie her feet too.” Brad pushed Emma to the floor beside Lily. With her hands tied behind her back, Emma had nothing to break her fall, and she landed on her right shoulder, crying out in pain.
Jamie quickly began wrapping the rope around Emma’s ankles.
“Ralph, please,” Lily started.
“Name’s Brad now,” he corrected her.
“What?”
“You dropped the ‘Beth,’ ” he said. “I added a ‘Brad.’ ”
“This doesn’t concern anyone but you and me,” Lily told him. “There’s no reason to involve anyone else.”
“Looks to me like they’re already involved.”
“Ralph—”
“Brad,” he corrected testily. “Don’t make me have to tell you again.” He kicked at her legs with his heavy black boots.
“Brad,” Lily whispered, fighting back tears. “Please, let them go.”
“Well, now, Lily-Beth. How am I supposed to do that?” He bent down, checked the tightness of the ropes binding the two women. “Jamie’s here because she’s my girlfriend. Sit down, Jamie-girl,” he directed with a wink, and she promptly obeyed, balancing on the arm of the beige-and-green chair, where she’d perched earlier. “And your friend, Emma, well, she’s here because she’s a big old snoop who butted her nose in where it didn’t belong, so I guess it’s true what they say about curiosity killing the cat.”
“Oh, God,” Emma cried.
“You don’t have to hurt her, Brad. I’m the one you want.”
“That’s true, I guess.” For a few seconds, he seemed to be mulling it over. “But how can I let her go when you know as well as I do that she’s gonna run straight to the cops?”
“No,” Emma protested. “I won’t. I swear.”
“Swear all you like, sweetheart. I can’t let you leave.”
“Please, Ralph … Brad,” Lily corrected immediately, although it was too late to stop the pointed toe of his boot from connecting with her shin. “She has a son.”
“Yeah, I saw him this morning.” Brad knelt down beside Emma, his knees cracking inside the denim of his jeans. “Cute kid. Not as cute as Corey, of course. Corey’s
my
son. ‘Course you probably call him Michael. That was Lily-Beth’s name for him. Insisted we name him after her father. Very important to her. So, nice guy that I am, I said okay. Michael Corey Fisher, we called him, although I always preferred Corey myself. Just like I always preferred Beth. But then, we never agreed on much, did we, darlin’?” he asked Lily.
“Please,” Emma whimpered. “I don’t know who you are or what you’re talking about.”
“No? She didn’t tell you about me?”
Emma shook her head.
“Well, that wasn’t very nice,” Brad said. “Not to tell anybody about the love of your life, the father of your son. I’m feeling kind of hurt.” He stood back up, paced back and forth, as if deeply upset.
Jamie knew what he was doing. He was playing with them, the way a cat plays with a mouse before going in for the kill. Tormenting them was almost as much fun as killing them, Jamie understood. She glanced at Lily, knowing she was thinking exactly the same thing. If only
she had a little of that woman’s courage. If only she had the strength to fight back.
But he’d robbed her of that strength when he raped her, then pummeled her spirit into submission the next night with his fists. Not so fearless now, was she? Even without ropes, she was as bound and shackled as the women on the floor beside her.
“So, what’s
your
story?” Brad asked Emma. “We didn’t get much of a chance to talk before Beth here came calling. What’s your son’s name?”
“Dylan,” Emma whispered.
“And Dylan’s father? What’s he do?”
Emma paused a split second too long. “He’s a policeman.”
“A policeman?” Brad repeated, with a mischievous grin.
“You should go. He comes home around this time every day for coffee.”
“Really? Well, I guess, in that case, I better hurry up and slit your throat.” Brad instantly dropped to his knees, grabbing a fistful of Emma’s hair as Emma began to scream. Jamie closed her eyes and buried her face in her hands. “Shut up,” he barked at Emma. “And don’t lie to me. I hate it when women lie. Although I guess I should be used to it by now.”
“I won’t lie,” Emma whimpered.
“I mean, you think I’m stupid here? Is that it? You don’t remember me checking this place out when I first got here? I’ve been upstairs, Emma-girl. I’ve seen your closets. I know there’s no man living here. Shit, what kind of moron do you think I am?”
“I don’t think you’re a moron.”
“Well, now, that’s good to hear. You keep talking nice like that, and I might not kill you after all.”
“Please don’t kill me,” Emma begged.
“Jamie,” Brad barked. “Get your hands away from your face.”
Immediately Jamie lowered her hands to her sides.
“See what a good girl she is?” Brad crowed as a wave of shame flushed over Jamie. “Now suppose you tell me where Dylan’s father really is,” he instructed Emma. “And don’t lie to me, because I’ll know the minute you start, even if it’s only a tiny little white one, and I’ll stick this knife in your heart without so much as a ‘tsk-tsk.’ Are we very clear about that?”
Emma nodded, although his hand in her hair afforded her little room for movement. “I won’t lie,” she promised a second time.
Jamie saw Lily lean forward, almost in spite of herself.
“So, where’s your old man?”
“He’s in San Diego.”
“How long you been divorced?”
Emma hesitated.
“You’re not thinking of lying now, are you?” Brad poked the blade of the knife against her Adam’s apple.
“Almost two years,” Emma said quickly.
“And what’s this guy’s name?”
“Peter,” Emma replied. “Peter Rice.”
“And what’s Peter Rice do for a living? I know for sure he ain’t no cop.”
“He’s a salesman. Computers, software, that kind of thing.”
“No kidding.” Brad laughed out loud. “I had a computer business once. Didn’t I, Jamie?”
Jamie stared at the floor, said nothing.
“So what made you leave San Diego and Mr. Peter Rice?”
“I had no choice.”
“And why is that?”
“Because he was going to take my son away from me.”
“That would be Dylan?”
Again Emma hesitated. “Martin,” she whispered after a pause. “His name is Martin.”
Brad laughed. “Well, what do you know? You think there’s anybody on Mad River Road who goes by their real name?” He lowered himself to the floor beside Jamie, leaned his back against the beige-and-green chair. “Come on down here, Jamie-girl,” he directed, pulling on her arm and dragging her down. “Join the party. We’re gonna learn everybody’s secrets here.”
Jamie knew Brad didn’t have the slightest interest in Emma or her secrets. She knew he was only playing with all of them, prolonging his enjoyment by prolonging their suffering. Brad would keep them alive only as long as they continued to amuse him. Then he would slaughter them one by one.
“So, what you’re saying is that instead of letting him take your son away from you,
you
took his son away from
him,”
Brad said. “That doesn’t sound too fair to me. Tell me, Emma. Was Peter Rice a bad father?”