Number Seventy-Five (5 page)

My internal wheels were spinning. I had to figure out a way to get to my gun without him noticing.

“He picked out women who had money, right?” Again, he gave me a nod of agreement, his hair bouncing in harmony with the movement. “But I’m not rich. I’m a nurse for God’s sake.”

Samuel paused in mid-shovel and stared at me with a look of pity. The kind of look you would give a child while they tried to figure out a difficult homework problem. You know they know the answer, so you wait while their brain runs through the calculations and finally solves the puzzle.

Neurons fired on all cylinders and the answer slapped me in hard the face. My huge divorce settlement from Scott had netted me close to one point five million.

“I never told him about my divorce settlement, so why did he choose me?”

He stopped shoveling for the last time. The hole was dug. My grave prepared. He leaned against the shovel, his eyes full of sadness as he wiped his sweaty brow with a bandana he had pulled from his back pocket. Then, to my horror, he noticed my purse and stepped over to it. In one swift movement, he tossed it down into the hole.

My heart sank when I didn’t hear a thud, which meant he already found my gun and disposed of it.

“Mandy, really, you don’t wanna know. Please, drop it. Go to the next life without that answer. It will only hurt you more. And I don’t want to be the one to tell you. It’s hard enough on me, knowing I am the one killin’ you.” I heard the hitch in his voice. A small crack as the emotional weight of what he was about to do hit him. “I have loved you my whole life, and this is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. But, business is business, and I ain’t got no choice. I don’t plan on spendin’ my remainin’ years behind bars, not even for the woman I love. Cops behind bars don’t last long.”

My mind spun out of control--my hopes dashed. While I watched his face contort with emotion, I dug through my memories of the last three years. My divorce records with Scott were sealed. The last two hundred and fifty thousand had been deposited less than a week ago into my account. When Scott caught me in the break room at work and informed me he didn’t owe me “a fucking dime” anymore, the conversation had not been a pleasant one. He had complained about his finances and the fact that he couldn’t afford to get his newest squeeze anything nice or take her on vacation for her upcoming birthday. I remembered laughing at him, telling him that if he had kept his dick in his pants, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. That, of course, pissed him off even more.

Not even my mother knew of the massive settlement I received since it was rolled directly into a trust. No one knew except my best friend. Sam’s sister, Shawna.

My childhood comrade. Maid of honor at my wedding and the woman whose shoulder I cried on for weeks after my divorce. The girl that I held tight while she sobbed at the loss of both of her parents less than one year apart. My friend that I moved into my spare room for two months while I nursed her back to health after a horrible car accident because she didn’t have insurance to cover home health care. A car accident that happened three years ago—the same time that Sam and Jacob began their game. The bouncy, effervescent creature who could make me laugh at life, no matter how grim the situation seemed.

Shawna was dating a man that she refused to tell me much about, preferring to keep things secret, which was completely out of character for her. A hush-hush sort of thing because she said he was a divorced man who insisted upon keeping his identity a secret while he dealt with an overbearing, money hungry ex-wife. She kept that promise to her new mate and only fed me scraps of information about him for the past two months.

Oh God, why did I not see it before? How did I miss that she was screwing Scott…

Which made her the third member of the deadly trio. Dear God…

My head spun as all the pieces finally came together. Betrayed by the person I was closest to in the entire world. Hot, fresh tears followed the dirtied tracks of the previous ones, and this time, I let them flow without restraint.

“Shawna?” I said, my voice choked with pain.

“Dammit Mandy, you never could accept no for an answer, could you? Yeah, Shawna set the whole thing up. I’m sorry I lied to you earlier. I
did
know before I got to the Chancery Court that you were Russell’s date, but I swear I didn’t find out until two hours before.

“You see, Shawna and Russell always orchestrated the game. She found them online, befriended them and learned their secrets. Social media—it’s a place that people seem to think they make real friends, real bonds, real connections. And I guess sometimes that is the case, but for Shawna and Russell, it wasn’t. She would laugh when she talked about how much information strangers were willing to give out online, especially from women who had money, but were lonely and searching for love. She picked ’em, contacted Russell, and we let him do his thing. Both of ’em know all ‘bout that hacker stuff. They kept their trails wiped clean. I was just called in at the last minute to, well, clean up the mess.”

I dropped the nearly spent smoke. The sobs of sorrow and physical pain overcame me. I doubled over and wept the tears of despair that only come from ultimate betrayal and impending death. My left hand fell down to my boot, hitting something hard as I tried to wrap my arm around my leg and pull myself into a tight ball. A last ditch effort to comfort my wounded soul.

“Shawna even told me about the gun in your purse, you know, to warn me so you wouldn’t shoot me or somethin’. She said you were sneaky like that, but I told her you were just smart. At least you
tried
to be safe but guess you was so wrapped up in your date, you forgot to bring it. I’m sorry, Mandy. I really am, but time’s up. It’s almost daylight and I need to leave under the cover of darkness. Don’t worry though. I’ll make this quick and painless.”

I heard the shovel clank when he released his grip and his footfalls drew closer. That sorry bitch may have warned him about the gun that
was
in my purse-- which was her fucking idea--but, I had completely forgotten that I moved it to my boot until I felt the bulge--and it wasn’t there at her suggestion.

It had been
my
idea.

My momma didn’t raise no fool. Damn straight.

While Samuel made his slow death march over to me, I eased my hand inside my boot and leaned to the left at the same time. My fake fainting spell worked and my fingers were firmly wrapped around the cold steel.

“That’s a good girl, Mandy. Keep those beautiful eyes closed and rest now. I promise…I will drink a cold one for you later in your honor. Such a shame—I would have made a damn fine husband to you, too.” He cooed the last words into the silent cave. I sensed his body was close enough.

Cold anger spread through me, freezing any hesitation. I was completely detached from any emotional connection to the situation. Fury rose with me as the will to live smothered everything else.

“Fuck you, Sambo,” I said, and fired. Powdery white smoke plumed out of the hole in my boot. The red hot muzzle burned my skin as I pulled the revolver free. The sound reverberated throughout the cave and my ears rang from the concussion. Pain from my movements and the burn ripped through me, but my instincts pushed them to the side.

Surviving was front and center. Nothing more, nothing less.

The first bullet tore through his thigh, which caused him to spin just a fraction. He nearly lost his balance, his hands instinctively clasped around the wound, and his body bent over in shock and agony.

His body leaned closer. The face I had known since childhood clouded over in pain, eyes full of bewilderment and shock. I saw the look of dread in his face when he heard the hammer engage again.

The second bullet landed dead center, his heart shredded by the molten lava fragments that passed through him. The force knocked him back a few steps from me which gave me the time necessary to click the hammer back and take steady aim. The third one split the small space between his eyebrows, followed by a small trickle of red that dribbled down his nose. Terror, and a slight tremor of relief, crossed his face as he fell backward on top of the dirt he had excavated for my grave. His life was over before he hit the ground.

“YOU’RE ONE LUCKY
woman, Ms. Russell.”

The young detective at the edge of my hospital bed closed his notepad and smiled at me. He was doing his best not to look like he just won the lottery at my expense. I wanted to be angry with him, but I couldn’t. Hell, if I were in his shoes, I would be happy too. Even though there were seventy-four victims to be identified and families to be given a final answer as to the whereabouts of their missing loved ones, the reign of terror was over.

“Well, I’m not sure if lucky is the appropriate word for what I am feeling right now, but thank you anyway.”

“Well, call it what you like, but in my book, you are. And a hero. Think of all the lives you saved from suffering the same fate that you almost did. You stopped the slaughter of more women from two heartless killers. Plus, once we have a chance to call in a forensic accountant to put together a complete financial workup on the finances of the perps, what funds are determined to belong to the victims will be sent back to the surviving family members. Not that they wouldn’t trade the cash for their loved ones back, but at least it’s something. Closure, if there is such a thing.”

Closure. I suppressed a cynical laugh at that statement. There wasn’t such a thing, not after the horrors inflicted by the deadly trio.

I stared down at my bandaged body, buried amidst the piles of blankets in the bed. It was my third day in the hospital in Crenton, Kentucky, which was over two hundred miles from Bainsville. The last seventy-two hours had been a blur of highs and lows.

I survived the painfully long journey out of the cave to Samuel’s car outside that took me hours to accomplish in the shape I had been in. Like a zombie, I staggered through the twisting cave, eventually forced to crawl when the lantern burned out. Claustrophobia set in and a few times, I just stopped and waited for death, unable to overcome my sorrow and fear. Twice I curled into the fetal position and stared into the dark nothingness, waiting to be swallowed up by the black hole I seemed doomed to be trapped in.

But then, just as I began to succumb to the siren’s whisper to close my eyes and drift away, the voices of the dead urged me on. I couldn’t let those women be lost in the cave any longer, so I pushed on despite the odds that were stacked against me. When I caught the first glimpse of sunlight, I ignored my bloodied feet, hands, and knees and ran, almost as though the light infused me with healing strength.

The first full breath of fresh air I sucked in with fervor, ignoring the tremendous pain it caused my chest. I squinted under the intensity of the early afternoon sunbeams, desperate to find my car. Had I been able, I would have jumped for joy when I spotted it about fifty yards from me, hitched right behind Samuel’s truck.

Relief washed over me when I found the door unlocked and my phone in the front seat, but that triumph had quickly sunk to dejection when I realized it was dead. Elation jolted me alive once more when I glanced through the window of Samuel’s truck and noticed a CB radio under the dash. The tears that I held inside me broke free when I discovered it worked. My raspy voice screamed across the airwaves for help.