Chapter Twenty-Two
It was Greg.
He dragged me away from Juliet and Delores. The hurried, backward movement and what was surely a gun against my head kept me from struggling. I was certain he intended to haul me to the pasture and shoot me at the spot where I'd found Valerie. Instead, he halted less than fifty feet from where he'd grabbed me.
His face rested lightly against my hair and he spoke in a calm, quiet voice. "I'm going to take my hand off your mouth. If you say one word or try to run I'll shoot you. Understand?"
Oh yes, I understood. I nodded quickly. Running was out of the question. The convulsive shaking of my legs made it almost impossible to stand. He bent down and retrieved something from the ground. I risked a glance. A rake? Gardening tools don't kill people, people kill people.
Shut up, Thea.
He gave me a push in the ribs with the business end of the gun, forcing me toward the house. I was amazed my legs obeyed and amazed we went right back to the bushes where he'd found me. His mouth was once again by my ear, but Juliet's impatient snarl cut him off.
"Thea, I said we're ready. Where are you?"
I pressed my lips hard together.
"Get down in the window well and shut the window," he whispered. "You even look like you're trying to get through it and I'll shoot you."
I nodded and stumbled through the bushes. Juliet looked up at me through the open window, her annoyance with me plain on her face. It was too dark to see Delores or Sarah.
"Thanks for showing up. I about killed myself getting in here."
The silent message I wanted so desperately for her to read on my face was going unacknowledged.
"Shut the window," Greg snapped.
I glanced in his direction. A metallic click prodded me into action. Using my foot, I slammed the window shut. Juliet banged her fist against the glass and pushed it open. Again I slammed it shut, shaking my head and mouthing, "No, please," as I held my foot against it. I had no trouble hearing her shout.
"What the hell are you doing? This is not funny, Thea."
The bushes rustled. "Take this." Greg thrust the rake at me. "Wedge it against the window, then get back up here. Don't forget about the gun. I doubt a rake is any match for a bullet."
I angled the rake between the window and the side of the window well, but it was a poor fit. Cussing with enthusiasm, Juliet tried to push the window open. I shook my head and mouthed, "sorry," with no effect, then I scrambled out of the hole and through the bushes to where Greg waited, praying I'd done a poor job of trapping my sister and friend. With luck Greg would take me far enough away so they could escape unobserved.
"Gardening tools come in so handy sometimes, don't they?" He spun me around and pushed me along in front of him. "You should pay more attention when you hold conferences in the bushes. It wasn't hard to figure out what you two were planning. I don't see a future for you in burglary -- don't see much of a future for you at all, actually." He chuckled.
We reached the back of the house and he shoved me at the porch steps. I tripped, broke my fall with my hands, then climbed up to the back door.
"Nice going, Grace." He laughed.
Maybe he'd amuse himself so much making fun of me he'd forget to shoot me.
Keys jingled. He reached around me, unlocked the door and pushed it opened. With the gun pressed firmly into my spine, he propelled me into the house and flipped on the lights.
We were in Valerie's remodeled kitchen with its granite countertops, tile floor, cherry cabinets, and awful smell of a toilet that hadn't been flushed for a long while.
"Now, shall we invite everyone up?" he asked.
He pushed me across the huge room. As we skirted the center island I caught sight of a pair of work boots sticking out from denim-clad legs. They were so out of place that my feet refused to continue until I'd made sense of it.
"Don't worry about Lee," Greg said, at my sudden stop. "We had a little disagreement about some money. He finally saw it my way." His high-pitched giggle plucked at my already taut nerves. He nudged me into another step and I saw the face of the man we'd been trying to locate at the bar. His skin was gray and his eyes stared, unblinking, at the ceiling. Blood -- what had to be blood -- pooled under his head and shoulder. The odor was not the same as the one that coated my nostrils and turned my stomach when I'd found Valerie. Of course. Lee was only recently dead. My knees buckled. Greg grabbed my collar and hustled me toward the basement door, then hauled me to a stop. With the muzzle of the gun against my ribs, he released the lock and swung the door open.
"Come on up, ladies," he called, as if inviting them in for coffee.
I held my breath and strained to listen, hoping to hear silence, hoping they had escaped. Instead I heard brief scuffling and angry whispers.
"Come now," Greg called again. "You wouldn't want to leave your sister all alone with me, would you, Juliet? Why, she might not be able to resist my well-known charms."
He caressed my cheek and neck with his left hand, and I flinched at his touch. The stutter of his breath against my hair was undoubtedly amusement.
"Did you like my little love notes?" he asked, his mouth close to my ear. "You must have, since you seemed to want more. I had to improvise for the one on your pillow -- didn't have time for a newspaper note. Did I make you nervous?"
I clamped my lips together. His exhale came hot and long against my cheek. In one swift move he yanked on my shirt, dislodging several buttons, and jammed his hand inside my bra. My mouth turned sour and a whimper rose in my throat.
"How about now?" He dug his fingers into my breast. "Maybe I make you hot." His tongue flicked against my cheek and I jerked my head aside, my temple colliding with the gun. He laughed, short and ugly. I clamped down on my anger, but couldn't stop the tremor that shot through me. "Too bad I have to catch a plane. You and your sister together would be entertaining."
God, he was sick.
And there was no sound from downstairs.
He jabbed the gun barrel into the side of my face. "Invite them up."
He hadn't lost track of them, unfortunately. I prayed they were working on escaping, and stayed silent hoping to buy them more time.
"Do it. The other option is for us to go downstairs. If so, I will wound you so you live long enough to watch me shoot each of them. Your choice, but I'm getting sick of clearing bodies out of this damn kitchen myself and the smell is enough to make me gag. I could use some willing help. Then again, I might just set a match to the place. Hmm, maybe they should stay down there."
"Do what he says, Juliet." My voice shook so much I couldn't tell if it was loud enough for her to hear. I felt I'd signed our death warrants, even though I'd avoided his threat. Tears spilled down my face, but I was too frightened to sob.
After a moment there was more scuffling, then running footsteps on the stairs. Greg pulled me backwards several steps, his forearm tight at the base of my throat, choking me.
Sarah lurched through the doorway.
"Greg…?" She made a move toward us and he swung the gun at her.
"Stop right there, Sarah." She did, and her eyes popped with surprise.
More footsteps sounded on the stairs, but at a considerably slower rate. Juliet and Delores stopped at the doorway to the kitchen, behind Sarah. Juliet's eyes grew wide as she took in the scene. Delores's face, although expressionless, was ashen. She held her left arm carefully. Greg put the gun against my head again.
"Well, that's better. Now Delores, don't tell me you've gone and hurt yourself." His voice was saccharin with mock sympathy.
"You ought to know, you bastard," she growled. "You're the one who pushed me down the stairs."
"Not as spry as you used to be, huh?"
She held her silence, but her eyes narrowed.
"What am I going to do with you girls?" he said.
"Greg—"
"Shut up, Sarah."
She blinked as rapidly as the trembling of her chin.
An exasperated r
umble vibrated in Greg's throat. "Looks like I've got more planning to do than I thought. You couldn't leave well enough alone, could you?" He pressed the gun to my head, again.
All eyes were on me, the obvious target of his question, but I was rigid with fear. I couldn't answer. I didn't want to die, not now, not like this. I didn't want anyone else to die, either.
"Now Lee," Greg gestured with the gun toward the legs on the floor. Delores and Juliet followed his motion and Juliet gasped. Greg laughed at her reaction. "He couldn't leave it alone, either. He screwed up, but the dumb shit thought I should give him more money. Now that's not fair. It's not my fault he drank the first five hundred. Why should I support his drinking habit?"
"Is he the guy who took Thea's horse?" Delores asked.
Sarah whimpered, and held her hand up like she was trying to stop Greg. He ignored her.
"Oh, how quickly we catch on. The idiot took the wrong horse, but I expect you figured that out already. Everything would have been perfect if that dickless moron had followed instructions."
Juliet slid a quick look at Sarah before addressing Greg. "Why did you kill Valerie?"
"I didn't kill Valerie."
Sarah jerked toward my sister. "See? I told you he didn't."
The sneer Juliet turned on her was as contemptuous as any I'd ever seen, but Greg jumped in, defending himself in a righteous tone.
"She was already dead when I got to her Saturday afternoon."
Liar.
Sarah waved her hands, again trying to stop him. "No, Greg! You weren't here! I picked you up at the airport. Thea did it -- caused all this trouble! You told me --" She stopped herself and cowered, watching Greg, worry and confusion stamped on her face.
He sighed. "Did you see me get off the plane?"
"No," was Sarah's whispered response.
"And you picked me up where?"
"At the curb outside of 'Arrivals.'" Again whispered. Tears dripped down her cheeks. "But --"
"How much of my business do you think would have survived if the police even questioned me about Valerie's murder? People would assume I did it if you ran at the mouth about how I found her. Then I'd never be able to get new investors to keep that deal going."
"I know you didn't kill her! I'd tell people that!"
"This is why I don't trust you, Sarah. You don't think, you just talk." He made a little gesture with the gun, smacking me on the forehead with the barrel.
I flinched.
Juliet caught my eye and I read her perfectly. I'd missed my chance to act while he was distracted. Disappointment sank through me.
"Oh, what's this?" Greg hadn't missed the look. "Secret signals?"
"No," Juliet said quickly. "I thought she was going to faint. She's so pale."
"Don't you worry about big sister." Greg squeezed my shoulders. "She's so little I can hold her up even after I shoot her." He laughed. "Oh, I almost forgot. It's going to be Sarah who shoots you all. Then, the poor thing, sick with remorse, will shoot herself."
"Greg!" Sarah wailed. "I love you! We're going to go away together. Remember? Last night? You told me you loved me -- you always loved me! You gave me this!" She held up her left hand. "You love me!"
"You're an anchor around my neck, you stupid cow."
He swung the gun toward her and she screamed. I let my knees collapse and dropped back against his chest. The moment he leaned into my weight I tipped forward, pulling him with me. With every ounce of strength I possessed I swung my arm down, slamming my fist into his groin. He yelped. I twisted and thrust my elbow hard into his ribs. His grip loosened and I pivoted, jamming the heel of my hand up into his nose. A sickening crunch erupted from his face under my hand, and blood gushed from his nostrils. Shrieking, Greg grabbed at his nose, flinging the gun across the room. It clattered to the tile floor and slid to a stop against Lee's leg.
Juliet leapt past me and smashed her fist into the side of Greg's head. He staggered and was tipping when she landed a round-house kick in the middle of his back.
It was a good bet he was already unconscious when he smacked, face down, onto the cold, hard, kitchen tile. He didn't even bounce.
Sarah screamed again, then sank to her knees and crawled across the floor to her would-be murderer, sobbing his name.
Juliet and I stared at him.
Delores stared at us.
"Did we kill him?" Juliet's question was almost indiscernible, since both of her hands covered her mouth.
"I don't think so," I said, surprised at how steady my own voice sounded. "We'd better find something to tie him up with before he comes to. He's going to be mad."
Juliet sprinted down the basement stairs and reappeared moments later with a roll of duct tape. We taped his ankles together, then pulled his arms behind his back and wrapped a large amount of tape around his wrists. Sarah tried desperately to undo the tape, but Juliet hauled her away by the collar of her shirt.
"Stop that." My sister plunked Sarah down against the dishwasher. "Now sit there and stop being so stupid. We just saved your sorry-ass life. You move and I'll tape you up, too." She looked at me and rolled her eyes.
Sarah curled into a ball and sobbed quietly.
I picked up the kitchen phone and dialed 9-1-1. As the operator answered, the exterior kitchen door swung open and Frederick Parsons strode in, impeccably dressed, gun drawn. We all stared, gap-mouthed, at him.
He looked down at Greg and shook his head. "Is he dead?"
Delores found her voice first. "No, he's not, Frederick. Put the gun away."
He didn't. Instead, he turned to me. The look in his eyes caused my insides to recoil.
"Are you calling 9-1-1?"
"Yes." The word was barely more than a squeak.
"Tell them you've made a mistake and hang up."
Delores and I exchanged a glance. She nodded once. I cleared my throat. Even still, my voice shook. "Sorry, operator, I've made a mistake. Sorry to bother you." I pushed a button on the handset.
Frederick Parsons waved his gun at me. "Over there, with your sister. Leave the phone."
I set it on the counter, and moved quickly to Juliet. Parsons scanned the room, shook his head slightly when he saw Lee's body and again as he took in Sarah weeping. He raised his gun and aimed at Greg. I sucked in a gasp. Juliet grabbed my arm.
"Frederick, no!" Delores shouted. "Let the police deal with him!"
"No!" Sarah screamed at the same time and threw herself across Greg's unconscious body. "He didn't kill her! He didn't kill your daughter!"
Parsons's shoulders sagged slightly and his eyes narrowed to slits. "Move."
"No. I won't let you kill him. He's innocent. You have to believe me! You'll have to shoot me too."
"I will," he said matter-of-factly. "But not with this gun." He moved toward Greg's gun, resting against Lee's leg, but the sound of footsteps on the porch drew our attention, including Parsons's.
Joey stepped through the doorway. Juliet's fingers dug into my arm and she whimpered. The gun he carried was bigger. Lots bigger.
"Ah, good," Parsons said. "Pick up that piece over there and dispatch these four, would you please?"
I clutched at Juliet and stopped breathing.
Joey raised his big pistol. The scream in my throat never formed. He wasn't aiming at us.
Parsons scowled and pointed at Greg's gun. "No. I said tha --"
There was a loud pop, like a beer being opened, but without the hiss. Parsons's eyes grew wide. He looked down at the red spreading rapidly on his crisp white shirt, then crumpled like so much dirty laundry.
Joey's expression never changed. He turned the gun around and laid it on the kitchen island. Then he raised both arms and put his hands behind his head, fingers laced together.
"Go ahead and call," he said, with a nod at the phone. "Don't touch the gun. Only my fingerprints should be on it."
Stunned and confused by the sudden turn of events, I obediently released Juliet and managed the few shaky steps t
o where the phone lay. "Are you still there?"
"Yes," the 9-1-1 operator said. "Are you safe?"
"Yes, thank you. We are now. But we still need the ambulance and sheriff." My words came out so slowly I thought I'd never finish the sentence.
"They should be arriving any moment. Stay on the line."
"Okay." I looked at Joey. "They're almost here."
He nodded. "We should go outside."
Delores, Juliet, Sarah (held firmly by the arm by my sister), and I followed Joey out the kitchen door. Once outside he knelt on the ground at attention, with his back to us, and his hands still at the back of his head. Even as my thinking began to clear, the entire scene remained more bizarre than I could have imagined. Not that I minded Joey's help -- which we obviously needed -- but I didn't understand what the hell was going on.
"Why did you kill him?" I asked.
The big man took a deep breath and exhaled before he answered. "I didn't have a choice. I'm the only one who knew he killed his daughter. He never would have been convicted, and I would have ended up as bear food on the side of some logging road before the trial ever started."
"But Greg --"
"Marshall never knew. We passed him when we left on Saturday, then turned around and followed him back here. Mr. Parsons's plan was to accuse him of killing Valerie, and have me hold a gun to the back of his head like I was going to kill him. It worked. Marshall was scared shitless. He cried, begged us to let him help find who killed Valerie when Mr. Parsons said the police would suspect him right away and we couldn't lie about finding him with her body."
"Why did he try to make it look like an accident? That was what he intended, right?"
"It was Marshall's idea, to give us more time. I think Mr. Parsons would have been okay with the accident idea, if it had stuck. But when it didn't, well, he had to put the blame on someone. He didn't much care if it was Marshall or you. He'd have ruined Marshall either way."
"Do you mean to tell me," Delores said, her voice cracking with fury, "Frederick intended to let Greg kill us all?"
Joey swallowed. "Yes, ma'am -- but I don't think he knew there'd be so many of you. He was going to shoot Greg after he killed Miss Campbell." He nodded toward me and my legs shook. Delores put her good arm protectively around my shoulders. "He planned to tell the sheriff it was self defense -- that Greg killed Miss Campbell and planned to kill him, too."
The first Snohomish County Sheriff's car rolled silently around the house and came to a stop. We all watched as the deputy, calm and business-like, exited the car with his gun drawn.
Joey continued. "I came into the house when I didn't hear a gunshot." His gaze held mine. "I'm glad you're all alive." Then he turned away, still on his knees.
"Glad" couldn't begin to describe my feelings. "Why did he kill his daughter?" I asked.
Joey took a shuddering breath then looked over his shoulder at me. Light reflected off the tears tracing paths down his face. "It was an accident. They argued about Greg and the investment scheme he dragged her into. Mr. Parsons lost his temper and hit her." He swallowed. More tears washed down his face. Another sheriff's cruiser pulled up. "He broke her neck." Joes faced front as two more sheriff's cars arrived and an ambulance.
"Everyone all right here?" Detective Thurman called, getting out of an unmarked car. His gun was drawn, too.
I cleared my throat. "They've arrived," I said into the phone. "Were you able to hear all that?"
"Yes, and thank you," the 9-1-1 operator said.
This time I actually did press the disconnect button. Then I addressed Thurman. "Yes. Mostly. I think Delores's arm is broken, though."
He nodded and motioned to the paramedics. Delores scowled.
"No backtalk, Delores," he said, then gave Joey a long look. "What am I arresting you for?"
"Murder."
"Whose?"
"Frederick Parsons."
Thurman's eyebrows shot up. He motioned to a deputy. "Cuff him and read him his rights." He turned his attention to me. "What am I going to find inside?"
"Two bodies. Frederick Parsons and Lee -- sorry, I don't know his last name. And Greg Marshall." Sarah sniffled loudly. I took a deep breath. "He's injured, maybe still unconscious, but we, um, secured him."
Thurman raised one eyebrow, then nodded at my hand. "You hurt?"
"No. It's Greg's blood."
His gaze shifted to my shirt. "Did he --"
"No." I yanked my shirt back together. "No. He was just trying to intimidate me."
"You want to talk to a woman officer?"
"No, thanks. I'm okay."
Another nod and a questioning look at my sister.
"You're doing all right?"
Juliet blushed. She blushed. "Yes, sir. I'm fine."
"Got things straightened out with your young man?"
"Yes, sir."
"No more weeping?"
Weeping?
"No, sir. I'm sorry about that."
"That's okay." He smiled and patted her arm.
Oh, did I have questions for my sister.
"And you, Miss Fuller …." Thurman shook his head as Sarah blubbered, then he looked around. "Hausman!" The deputy I'd seen at the sheriff's office trotted over. "Take Miss Fuller to the office and get her statement. Hold her as a material witness, possible accessory."
Hausman led a wailing Sarah to a patrol car as another ambulance pulled in.
"You two," Thurman addressed Juliet and me. "Give your statements to the officers over there. Then go home. I'll talk to you both later."
I started to follow Juliet then stopped. "Detective?" Thurman looked a question at me. "Frederick Parsons killed his daughter. He was going to shoot all of us. Joey saved us."
Thurman shook his head and smiled. "Thea, you saved yourself and everyone else when you left the connection to the 9-1-1 operator opened. That was quick thinking. And pretty damn brave. You let us know just how and when to approach the situation." He winked and waved me off. "Go on. I expect you'd like to go home. We'll take it from here. I'll be in touch when we get this sorted out."
I smiled as I headed to the deputy who would take my statement. The backyard was now full of vehicles of all description, their strobe and flood lights illuminating the area that had been so empty and terrifying to me a short while ago. I took a deep breath and caught the definite scent of spring, mixed in with diesel and other exhaust. It was not raining. In fact, the sky was bright with a nearly full moon.
A deputy approached and pulled a pen out of his pocket.
"You'll need more than one clipboard for this statement," I said.