Dark and Deadly

“Paul, you’ve gotta run.” Torie was still slurring but her voice was stronger. “It’s me he wants.”

“Oh, no, that’s where you’re wrong, beautiful Victoria. I want you both dead. I originally thought I could kill Todd and marry you, which would let me finally claim the money Todd stole from me. But nooooooooo,” he mocked like a teenager would. “You weren’t ready to date, you said. But you were,” he accused. “You dated that nasty Trey Buckner. It’s no wonder you got labeled a slut and a black widow. He’s trash, and you lowered yourself to his level.

“So I planned something else. I knew I wouldn’t get the money, but it didn’t matter. I’d get my revenge.”

“Revenge?” Paul baited him, hoping he’d get a chance to overwhelm the angry man, get the gun. “For what? Todd won that money fairly. He lived fairly and gave back. That’s more than anyone can say about you.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Melvin shouted. “You don’t know. You never saw what he was. What he did.”

“He never did anything but help you.”

“He hated me, despised me. Called me Weaselboy.”

Paul betrayed himself with a glance at Torie.

“You knew, you bastard. I should have killed you first. You knew it was me, didn’t you, back then, in college? I could have had her then, if it hadn’t been for you.”

“At the fraternity house? You drugged her? It was you all those years ago?” Rage nearly overwhelmed Paul as he realized that he’d never seriously considered Melvin. All those years…

“Nothing too strong,” Melvin chuckled, and a shudder ran up Paul’s spine. With all of this, he knew Melvin was crazy. Now he knew Melvin was capable of worse things than killing. His next words drove the point home. “She was so easy to drug, so willing. She has a beautiful body. I’ve never forgotten it.”

“How could you? How could you pretend all these years?”

Keep him talking; Paul’s thought was scattered, nearly panicked as he felt Torie sag onto his back. “Hang in there, honey,” he muttered, trying to get her to respond.

“Pretend? I’m not the pretender, Paul. You are. I found out where you came from. You’re the son of a trailer trash whore and a deadbeat father. You’re nothing next to me, do you hear me? Nothing.”

“I never made any secret of that, Melvin. I never lied. You lied. You’re still lying.”

“I am not,” Melvin nearly screeched. He hated to be called a liar.

Behind Melvin, Paul saw the barest movement. If it was help, he needed to be sure Melvin didn’t know it was there.

“Shut the fuck up, Weaselboy,” he taunted, keeping Melvin’s attention directed his way. “You were never up to the standard. How you ever pledged Delta Phi, I’ll never know.”

“You shut up,” Melvin screamed, and the gun wavered, then steadied. “Stop it, Paul. You think you’re so clever, baiting me, trying to get me to lose my temper. Uh uh uh.” He waggled the gun like a scolding finger. “I’m not falling for it.

“You need to die quickly, and so does she,” he said, pushing back the top of one of the gloves to check the time. “My father should be loading into the ambulance about now. I’ll get back to the mansion in time to speed off to the hospital. Oh, gosh—” he pretended to be shocked and appalled—“whatever happened to dear old Dad? Heart attack?” he roared with laughter, but the gun never wavered.

“Now, do as I say. Move aside so I can kill her first. A nice little murder-suicide, I think.”

“Drop the gun,” a voice called out of the darkness.

How the cops had crept up so quietly, Paul had no idea. He didn’t care. All he knew was that the cavalry had arrived, and he could tend to Torie.

“Don’t move,” Melvin ordered. “You come any closer and I put a bullet through both of them. Come out into the light where I can see you.”

“I said, drop the gun.” The disembodied voice was insistent.

“I’m never going to jail,” Melvin said, as if they were having a conversation over lunch. “I’d rather die. Hell, my father would rather I die before I disgraced his name.” He laughed. “Oh, if he only knew.”

“Drop it, Pratt,” a new voice called. Tibbet was over to Paul’s left, beyond the circle of light made by the headlights. How he’d gotten through the city and out to them that fast, Paul didn’t even want to know.

“I’m taking both of you with me,” Melvin said, calmly. “These bullets are a little special. They’re Sampson bullets. They’re loaded hot. They have enough extra oomph to penetrate your body and kill her, too. You made a mistake, Paul. You should never have put her behind you.”

“Drop. The. Gun,” Tibbet ordered again.

Everything happened in slow motion. Paul saw Melvin smile, and knew the shot would kill him.

But it didn’t have to kill Torie. With a wrench, he tossed her down, throwing himself over her body just as Melvin fired.

Shots rang out and he heard a scream, but he didn’t look up.

“Paul? Jameson? You okay?”

He felt Tibbet’s hand on his shoulder.

“Oh, God, Torie? Torie?” He rolled off her as Tibbet turned on a high-beam flashlight. “Torie?”

“Paul?” She put her hand up to shield her eyes from the glare. “Are you okay?”