“Tell me,” she insisted. “I have a right to know.”
“I won the jackpot,” he blurted. “Three hundred and sixty-eight million dollars. I never expected, I mean, you know, I always buy a ticket on special days.”
He did. She knew that. They’d always talked about what they’d do if they won.
Her mind whirled. Oh, good Lord, he’d won.
“You won?” she managed faintly. “All that money?”
They would never have to scrimp. Her mother’s complaints about Todd’s spendthrift habits and frat-boy ways would be nothing against that kind of income. They could—
Torie went very still as his words sank in. He was choosing the money over her, over the life they’d planned.
Devastation came first. Then hot anger boiled in her veins. He didn’t want to share a new, financially prosperous life with her.
She wasn’t good enough.
Oblivious to her reaction, he just shook his head. “I know, it’s crazy. But you understand, right? This changes everything in my life.”
“You son of a bitch,” Torie snarled as she balled up her fist.
The door from the bride’s room to the church opened, but Torie barely heard it, and didn’t look around. The bouquet disintegrated, and the best man gasped as Torie decked her groom.
Chapter One
Grunting with the effort, he hefted the bundle from the trunk and into the wheelchair. He hadn’t expected the body to be this heavy. It wasn’t like the guy was fat or anything.
He was sweating like a pig by the time he got to the church door. Nudging it open, then kicking it shut behind him, he let the wheelchair topple as he dragged Todd’s solid weight backward toward the altar. The round hole in the corpse’s forehead stared at him accusingly, like an eye from another world.
He ignored it.
As much as he’d enjoyed the actual killing, he hated having to go to the worst parts of town to buy unregistered, illegal guns. Dealing with those people was distasteful.
“You may have had everything, you prick,” he grunted to the dead man, finally tossing him on the steps leading to the pulpit. “And because of you, I got nothing. But thanks to
He placed one of Todd’s hands at his crotch, the other at his forehead like a fainting woman. He giggled, thinking that when the body went into rigor mortis the coroner wouldn’t be able to move the hands from their position. What a great picture for the police file. Todd would look as silly in death as he’d made others feel in life.
“There now. A fitting tribute. You got to fuck the woman I wanted, and you were always whining like a stupid bitch over the details.” He pitched his voice high like a girl’s. “
Uncapping a bottle, he sprinkled blood on Todd’s shirtfront, then rubbed some blood on the knuckles as well. It hadn’t been easy to get it, but blood drive volunteers, especially well-known ones, weren’t watched that closely.
Ripping open an envelope he pulled from inside his jumpsuit, he plucked a series of long blond hairs from it, draping one across the lapel of the designer suit Todd wore. He then dropped the others around the body, making sure at least one stuck in the blood on Todd’s knuckles.
With a skipping step, he practically danced over to the thermostat. Setting the controls to the lowest possible air-conditioning setting, he then programmed it to come back up to regular temperature within twenty-four hours. The body would probably be found on Saturday of course, when parishioners came to the church to prep for the Sunday service. Then again, it could be Sunday morning. Nice thought. Either way, if all the TV shows and books were right, the cold temperatures would delay determination of time of death.
Perfect for what he wanted.
Within minutes, he’d stashed the wheelchair and relocked the church. It took only two more minutes to park the car he’d used to transport the body at the gas station on the corner. He slipped through the concealing shadows to his own car four blocks away. The first layer of gloves he’d stripped off went into a plastic bag. He’d dispose of them across town.
So many idiots left evidence too close to the crime scene. Stupid. Then again, most criminals were morons. The crime shows were sensationalized, of course, but most were built on brainless things people had actually done, like dropping gloves or weapons a block or less away. No wonder they got caught.
The second rental car was parked in the public lot downtown. He’d parked his own car on the street and put enough quarters in the meter to get him past the time the meters were in effect. Snapping on another pair of latex gloves, he popped the trunk on the junky car to be sure the pipe bombs and Molotov cocktails were still in their protective cushioning. Grinning at them, he carefully shut the trunk. He didn’t want the fireworks to start early.
As he drove off the lot and turned north, he couldn’t stop laughing. He cranked the radio, and sang along to the songs as they came on. He felt so free. No one would ever know.
It wasn’t the perfect crime because there was no way now he could get the money. In some ways, that made it better; there was no obvious motive for him to do anything to anyone.
It was revenge at its purist. He didn’t profit, but neither of
At this point, that was enough.
