Pick Your Poison

29

Steven dropped his heavy bundle, and I flinched at the lifeless thud. He leaned on the door frame, catching his breath and wiping rain and sweat off his forehead with his forearm.

And then he saw me.

His eyes flickered, but I didn’t read surprise in his face. I stood, putting my hands flat against the wall behind me, knowing I was trapped in this closet and in this house—and in my own living nightmare.

He said, “Your gears are turning full speed, aren’t they, Abby?” He blocked the door with his spread arms, and the smell of his perspiration fueled a wave of nausea.

I had to get past him somehow.

“Sorry I missed you over at my office,” he said. “Seems I remember you telling me more than once to not leave the CD drive open. Too easy for dust to get inside the computer. Very careless of you, babe.” He smiled.

I felt my breath coming faster and kept looking down at the tarp. At the body. I wished I’d hear a moan, or see some small movement, but nothing came, and I feared nothing would.

“After I took care of my friend here, I planned on telling you how I damaged the CD by accident.”

“Could we discuss this somewhere else?” I glanced again at the black plastic shroud. Wisps of silver hair protruded from the end nearest me.

Steven took my arm as I stepped over Feldman’s body—it had to be Feldman—then pulled me toward the parlor.

“I needed a place to park Sammy’s weary bones until the weather lets up,” he said. “The argument which led to his little accident concerned you, so you’ve only got yourself to blame for his death.”

I halted, his fingers tightening on my arm.

“You killed him, and it’s my fault?” I said, incredulous.

“An accident, Abby. Don’t take it so hard.” He reached over and flipped the lights on, then rubbed his chin with his free hand. “You showing up here complicates things.” He stared at me, his green eyes narrow. They caught the light and seemed almost yellow, like a snake’s.

“But you know something, babe? I think it’s time you had the truth. I owe you that before we say good-bye.”

A permanent good-bye, of course. “What happened? How could—”

“What happened?” He yanked me toward him. “Once upon a time I married a princess. A beautiful princess, with the softest skin I ever touched. But she wanted someone exactly like beloved King Charlie. Did anyone ever tell you to be careful what you wish for, Abby, because you might just get it?” He squeezed my upper arm.

I pulled away and a day’s worth of grief, fear, and rage exploded. “I can’t believe how you manipulated me! And now you’ve got the gall to say I’m to blame for the mess you’ve made?”

He shoved me hard. “You’re not getting the last word this time!”

I hit the wall hard, my head bouncing off the plaster. I went down, my palms sliding against the textured paint, scraping the skin on my hands.

I was too stunned to move for several seconds.

He sat cross-legged opposite me, his spread knees close enough to keep me pinned, his eyes tired and wild at the same time, his whiskey breath hot in my face.

I swallowed, trying to rid myself of the tightness in my throat. “Go ahead,” I said softly. “Tell me how we got to this corner of hell.” I willed back my tears, vowing I’d never reveal how afraid I was to him. Never.

“Guess you figured out your daddy wasn’t so perfect, huh? Pure dumb luck when I stumbled on the truth. The day I found out about Feldman, I bet I could have pitched pennies down the neck of a swinging beer bottle and made every one. Charlie had a regular gold mine of well-kept secrets and would have spent every last dime to keep the truth from you and Kate.”

“I know Daddy paid you, but those canceled checks he wrote to you were dated before Ben came to work for us. How do those connect to the murder?”

“Those checks were first payments on a special insurance policy. How should I put it? Charlie was paying me for services not rendered.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I had these pesky gambling debts. Jerks in suits breathing down my neck, wanting their money plus interest. So Charlie said he’d help me out. But only as long as I kept my hand out of the cookie jar—you being the cookie jar, babe.”

“He paid you to stay away from me?”

“That’s right. Your brain’s firing like one of your damn computers. No matter what happened between us, I never doubted your smarts for a minute.”

I was aware of my chest rising and falling way too fast. I closed my eyes. Squeezed them shut. I couldn’t focus on Daddy’s betrayal. I had to stay calm, watch for any chance to escape, even though I felt like a knife was slashing at my heart. “But you didn’t stay away, Steven. You were always hanging around.”

“But I didn’t make any moves on you, either. I could have had you back in bed in a New York minute. Too risky, though. Charlie might have caught us, or you might have blabbed to him about us getting back together.”

Okay. He’s drifting into fantasyland. And he wants to gloat. So let him. “Did Daddy come to you, or was that arrangement your idea?” I asked.

“Let’s say we came to a mutual understanding. I picked up the checks at his office downtown, so you wouldn’t see me. But one weekend I ran out of cash and stopped by your house to see if Charlie would front me a little extra. By then we were better buddies than when you and I were married. I went around to the back after no one answered the door, and heard Charlie and Ben out in the greenhouse. I got quite an earful about this little illegal adoption.”

“So you started blackmailing Daddy,” I said, scanning the room. Had to escape through the back. The front door was locked.

“You could say I got quite a raise in my take-home pay,” he said. “The last thing Charlie wanted was you and Kate learning the ugly truth from the likes of me.”

He drew out a leather-covered flask from his back pocket and took a swig. “Join me?”

The more he drank, the more he’d talk. He’d get meaner, too, but I’d take that risk. I accepted the bottle, and the whiskey burned all the way down after I swallowed.

“Not your favorite chardonnay, but then I didn’t invite you to this party.” He capped the flask and propped it against his thigh.

“So when Daddy died, you took a salary cut, huh?” I said.

“Give me a little credit, babe. I’m not stupid. I had more than one iron in the fire.”

“Feldman?”

“Boy, it’s been hard staying a step ahead of you.” He laughed and shook his head. “Did you know Ben built houses up in Shade? We had some long talks when Charlie wasn’t around.”

“So you befriended Ben, and he told you about Feldman?”

“Ben wanted to find the guy and put him away for killing his wife,” he said.

Ben believed Feldman killed my mother. Feldman and not my father. He was probably right, but this was cold comfort. “So Ben trusted you,” I said. “Did he mention how he found Daddy in the first place?”

“Ben never said. Charlie agreed to help him find Feldman, and in return, Ben would wait to tell you and Kate the truth about the adoption. But then Charlie up and died from that heart attack.”

“Daddy had already found Feldman, though, right?” I said.

“Not quite. Charlie knew Feldman was still in Galveston. Nothing more. Ben told me as much at Charlie’s funeral.”

“So you’d lost one source of income, but saw another possibility. And you found Feldman first.”

“Yup.” Steven grinned and patted my cheek. “Such a smart girl. And guess what? Feldman had as much money as Charlie. When I told the old man Ben Grayson was about to show up with a uniformed cop on his elbow, Feldman realized he needed my help. I took care of the Ben problem. Got a nice down payment on what was supposed to be Feldman’s lifetime commitment to me.”

“Who will pay your bills now, Steven?” I said, and realized immediately I’d taken the questions a step too far.

“That’s none of your goddamned business.”

“I’m sorry,” I said quickly. “You’re right, of course.”

“Damn straight, I’m right,” he said, sounding calmer. He began to trace small circles on the top of my hand.

His touch, once familiar and welcome, now felt like a rattler’s tongue before the strike. “So Feldman killed Cloris himself?” I said.

He nodded. “Sounds like you’re a lot like her, babe. She was making waves. Digging around where she had no business.”

“Had no business? We were her flesh and blood.”

“She made a deal with the devil. You do that, you end up skewered on a pitchfork.” His hand moved to my knee.

I tensed. Keep him talking; then find a way out. I had to focus on those two things, or my rage and disgust might make me do something stupid.

“My mother never made any deal,” I said. “Feldman tricked her. But after years of searching she finally tracked him down, didn’t she?”

He uncorked the flask and drank, then wiped his mouth with the side of his hand. “Yeah. He told me about her. Seems she had proof Feldman forged the adoption papers and threatened to file suit. And then there’d be criminal charges. So he followed her back to Shade. Watched her house... her routine... and when he saw her pick up that cold medicine at the drugstore, the rest was easy. Her door wasn’t even locked, he said. He just walked in when she was gone, put the cyanide into the capsules, and left.”

He swigged again and continued. “After the ambulance and cops left her house, he got inside and removed the evidence. Seems they weren’t all that particular about their crime scene up in Shade.”

“Evidence? What evidence?”

“Some handwriting expert’s written opinion that the papers were forgeries. But don’t you think I bettered Feldman with my acid-cyanide deal when I doctored your roses? Ben never knew what hit him.”

“You played us all like a fifty-dollar fiddle, didn’t you?” I said.

“Aren’t you proud of me, Abby?” His eyes were red-rimmed and liquid. “But you know what’s funny about all this?”

“What, Steven?” I asked. Had to keep him talking. As long as he kept bragging, I stayed alive.

“When Ben started sniffing around, Feldman didn’t care as much about the whole world knowing he was a baby thief and a murderer as he did about having to leave his house. Geezer was a fucking nutcase.” He offered me the bottle again, almost like we were sitting at some bar, having a good old time drinking and bullshitting.

I took a tiny sip and handed it back.

“You had to snoop around, babe, didn’t you? Ruin everything. Why did you have to do that?” He took my hands between his own.

I felt like springs were uncoiling in my stomach. I didn’t like the change in his tone. “I don’t know why, Steven.”

“Every time you filled me in on your little detecting game, I had to stop and think how to stay ahead of you.” He turned my hand over, wet his finger, and rubbed at the dried blood on my palm.

It required every ounce of willpower not to pull away.

“I kept Helen and Feldman in the dark about you as long as I could,” he said. “See, Sammy didn’t know about you and me. He thought I worked for Charlie, thought that’s how I found out about the adoption. But when Kate brought that check over to Helen...” He waved his finger in my face. “Big mistake, Abby.”

“Your girlfriend Helen knew who I was?” Keep talking, Steven. Please keep talking.

“Ah, so you know about us. She came on to me first, if you’re wondering. Anyway, seems you got Sam all riled up. He blabbed everything to Helen—the old adoption, how I had killed Ben, the blackmail.” He brought my hand to his cheek. “Another mistake pretending to be Terry, sweetheart. Feldman panicked, called me over there today. ‘Do this,’ he said. ‘You have to do that.’ And he got in my face. So I pushed him. He cracked his skull. And all thanks to you.”

Thunder rumbled above. “What about your girlfriend? What will you do about her now that she knows everything?”

He smiled, and how I wished this mellow mood would last. “Helen’s a smart woman. Almost as smart as you. She won’t talk.”

“You couldn’t keep your hands off her, could you?” I said. I was running out of ways to stall him and thought maybe he’d like to brag about her for a while.

“She was married to an old man,” he said. “And you know how I can’t stand seeing a woman in need.”

“I know way more than I ever wanted to about that, Steven.”

He cupped my face in both his hands. “Jealous, babe?”

I stared into his eyes. “Yes,” I said. “I think I am.”

His thumbs pulled my mouth into a tight, painful smile. “You should smile when you lie, babe. It’s much more convincing.”

He pulled my face to his and crushed his mouth against mine, forcing his tongue between my lips. He tasted sour—foul. When I couldn’t even fake a response, he put his hand on my breast—and shoved me away.

I hit the wall again, the pain slicing through me as if I’d been shot.

“Lost that lovin’ feelin’, huh, babe?” he said, his words slurring ever so slightly.

The fear inside me seemed to be shrinking to something hard and strong, like a fist, ready to strike. Fear could help you, I thought. Fear was a powerful thing. I stood. “I’m leaving. This is over.”

He grabbed my arm, his grip like steel. “Time to finish this.”

Finish this? How? How would he kill me? As he started to drag me toward the stairs, more thunder sounded, and a vicious squall began to hammer the roof and side of the house.

“You can’t, Steven,” I said. “I know you can’t.”

His voice was cold. “You don’t know the first thing about me. You walked out of my life and nothing ever hurt so bad. I tried scaring you off the case. I loosened that board upstairs, hoping to put you out of commission, but twenty-four hours later you’re digging deeper than ever. Why couldn’t you wait until I had Feldman under control? Why?” He shook me, then pushed me, and I stumbled backward.

The phone rang.

His head jerked in that direction.

Then everything went black. The electricity had gone out.

I took off, brushing against a wall, the phone still shrieking behind me.

I heard a thud and Steven cursed.

I rushed through the empty dining room into the kitchen. Felt my way to the counter and swept with my hand, searching, sending twisted paper bags flying and plastic liter bottles clattering to the floor.

Where is it? I saw it thirty minutes ago! I saw it!

I was trembling all over as I groped for what I needed, wishing my eyes would adjust quicker.

There!

Steven found me, took hold of my shoulders, and spun me around.

I drew back as his breath blew warm and menacing near my forehead.

“Got you!” he said.

I felt for his face. For a landmark. And sprayed him with the roach killer.

He yelled and let go of me.

I ran for the back door, slamming my hip on the counter along the way. I nearly tripped over the rubble still littering the mudroom floor, but stayed close to the intact inner wall. I made it out the door.

And realized that the water had risen to knee-deep, and was all roaring motion.

A flash flood. God, no!

But I walked out anyway, pushing through the current with one leg, then the other. I stayed clear of the trees, knowing how water moccasins slithered up the trunks to avoid being swept away. I didn’t want to cross paths with one of them.

Even though I couldn’t run, my canvas shoes gave me an advantage. Steven’s cowboy boots would be far more cumbersome.

I moved toward the car, fighting for every step, digging in my pocket for the keys.

Then I heard Steven splashing and sloshing behind me.

I trudged on, and finally tugged the keys out. I pointed the remote at the outline of the 4Runner in the distance, but couldn’t hear if the locks released. I struggled on, panting and gasping, and when I finally reached the door handle, my legs buckled. I leaned against the vehicle for support.

Hurry, Abby. He’s coming.

I lifted the handle. The remote key hadn’t worked. Damn!

I took a deep breath and fit the key in the lock.

Don’t look back. Don’t look back.

I heard the blessed sound of the locks releasing and climbed into the 4Runner, pressing the auto lock to keep Steven out. I closed my eyes, fighting for air, my head resting on the steering wheel.

A voice inside was screaming for me to drive, to get moving! But my hands were shaking and I had trouble finding the ignition.

It seemed like forever before I started the engine... turned on the headlights. I licked my dry lips and shifted into reverse.

In the side mirror I saw the raging waters surging through the street, carrying trash cans, lawn chairs, and tree limbs. I maneuvered out, praying I’d find the road—otherwise I might get caught in the ditch. As the 4Runner swung out, the headlights panned the yard between the two houses.

I spotted Steven flailing in the rising waters, not moving in any purposeful direction. He must be stuck in the soft ground or tangled in debris. I shifted gears and slowly edged forward in the river that used to be P Street, guessing at the position of the driveway. Using the mailbox as a guide, I pulled in as close as I could.

Steven fell, probably to his knees, because the water was up to his chest.

No matter what he’d done, or threatened to do, I couldn’t leave knowing a human being would surely die if I did so. I could never live with that.

I picked up the phone and called 911.

And listened to the ring... six times... seven.

We weren’t the only ones who needed help tonight.

I rolled down my window.

“Can you get up?” I yelled.

But he was drunk, not to mention incapacitated by water that had probably risen six inches since my escape to the car.

I heard a muffled “What is your emergency?” coming from the phone in my lap. I gave the address, but I knew by the time help arrived it would be too late for him. I clicked the phone off and squinted out into the darkness. If I waded out to him, he’d pull me down in his panic or his rage.

So I needed a rope.

I climbed over the front seat searching for one, but of course found nothing but Kate’s usual folders and library books. And laundry for the dry cleaners.

It might work. I could make it work.

I hurriedly knotted several pairs of linen pants, silk shirts, and a black crepe dress together, twisting them as I tied. I only hoped the line would be long enough as I got out of the 4Runner and attached one end to the front bumper.

With the headlights to guide me, I started toward Steven, but fear nearly overwhelmed me then. Nearly took over every muscle. I was a quivering bundle of undirected energy. Steven might finish me off if I got to him. Drown me.

Don’t be a fool, Abby. Leave him!

But though this storm was not a hurricane, I knew its power. I knew who my real enemy was—the enemy who would prevent anyone else from getting here in time to save a man who didn’t deserve to be saved. The whirling winds and stinging rains demanded I give in, flattening me against the 4Runner and threatening to toss me into the current.

My defeat, if it came, would be at Storm Carl’s hands, and for some strange reason, I found that thought comforting.

Clinging to my homemade lifeline, I set out again toward a floundering Steven.

But the makeshift rope wouldn’t reach.

“Come closer, Steven!” I hollered over the thundering water.

But fighting the flood had exhausted him. Only his head was visible now, his eyes glazed with fear. With each passing second the water kept up its punishing pursuit of us both. Carl would have his way.

I needed more line. Maybe twenty-four measly inches. I slipped out of my saturated T-shirt and added it to the other clothes.

I leaned forward, holding out my T-shirt so he could grab on. Once he did, I planned to follow the chain back to the 4Runner, hoping he had the sense to hang on for his life.

“Steven! Take this!” I screamed over the howl of rushing wind and water.

His head moved in the direction of my voice, but I didn’t think he saw me. The bug spray must have played havoc with his contacts.

“Here! I’m right here!” I shouted.

Finally I managed to find his hand, but his slick fingers slipped away, and I reached toward him again, straining. I was so focused, I didn’t even notice the pontoon boat making its way toward us.

But then I heard Jeff’s voice through the darkness. “Don’t tell me you’re rescuing murderers in your underwear?” he yelled above the motor’s drone.

As relief displaced terror, the feeling lifted my soul within a whisper of being tangible. Surely this was the most blessed emotion I had ever experienced.

A few minutes later, on our way to the Galveston police station, I promised Jeff I’d discuss my lingerie with him anytime, anywhere... which brought an amused guffaw from the man driving the rescue boat.

But I didn’t recall much else on that ride. I concentrated on pretending the quivering form in handcuffs at the other end of the boat was invisible.