Deceit

reached the top of the stairs as his arm pulled back and whammed that solid block of wood into the side of her head, and if she’d fallen sideways instead of forward—

“Don’t you talk to me about Cherisse. Don’t you dare.”

“I don’t care about Cherisse,” Melissa shot back. “What I care about is the money. The price has just gone up, due to my circumstances. Which you caused. I want $300,000. And your deadline’s been pushed up. Now it’s Monday, ten a.m. That gives you time to get to the bank.”

“I’m not giving you a cent.”

“Fine. Then count on being arrested Tuesday. That’s about how long it’ll take them to dig up Linda’s body. I know, because I asked. Don’t think I won’t talk, Baxter. Between you trying to kill me and the police looking for me, I’ll have no choice. If your deadline passes and you haven’t paid the money, I’m going straight back to the DA.”

Baxter’s eyes closed. He knew she meant it. She’d called him out of the blue last week after six years. Said she’d heard about Cherisse’s death through happening to read the Vonita Times online— the issue with Joanne Weeks and her big mouth as the cover story. Melissa wanted money by Monday or she’d tell the police he’d killed Linda. Now pushed to the brink, if she didn’t get her way, vindictive Melissa would pile it on. The tears, the manipulation, the wide-eyed innocence. The lies. Their affair would turn into his seduction. Or worse, statutory rape would become forced rape. And Linda’s death…

Baxter straightened in his chair. His gaze roved through the glass doors to his beautiful backyard. The yard he’d enjoyed with two equally beautiful wives. How he’d missed Linda. How he now missed Cherisse.

He’d lost enough. He would never lose his freedom. His reputation, his life. Never.

“All right.” The words lay bitter on his tongue. “Monday at ten. Three-hundred thousand.”

He could hear the smirk over the phone line. “I knew you’d come around, Baxter.”

They discussed drop-off details. He was to put the money in a box, taped up. Write the name “Ann” on top. Melissa gave him specific instructions to a place in the woods on the west side of 101.

“Leave it there, then get in your car and drive away,” Melissa commanded. “And don’t think I haven’t thought through how it’ll be picked up safely. I won’t be such an easy target this time.”

This was the scenario Baxter had so wanted to avoid. Better to trick Joanne Weeks into leading him to an unsuspecting Melissa than to try killing Melissa when she was on the alert. And that’s exactly how she’d be when picking up his package. All the more now, thanks to his scheme being uncovered.

What a backfire. He never should have done it this way. He should have gone through with a fake drop-off, stayed around, and killed Melissa himself. But that would have involved buying a gun. Getting rid of another body. Too many trails.

“I don’t ever want to hear from you again.” Baxter’s tone would freeze steel.

“Have a good life, Baxter. Just get me the money.”

Melissa hung up.

Slowly, Baxter rose and replaced the phone. Anger surged through him. He couldn’t even tell who he was more mad at—Melissa or his hired man. If they walked into his kitchen right now he’d strangle them both—with a smile on his face.

Wait.

What if Melissa’s call was a ruse? Maybe she and Joanne were still trapped in the hotel and cooked up this story so he’d pull his man away from Joanne’s car…

But if he did pull off his man, how would they know it? They couldn’t be sure it was safe to leave.

Baxter paced to the refrigerator and back, shoving down his emotions, forcing himself to think logically. He pulled up short in front of the sliding glass door.

No. That kind of ruse would be too open-ended. Joanne was smarter than that.

For once Melissa had to be telling the truth. They’d escaped the hotel. As for the DA part, Joanne could have fed Melissa that information…

But she wouldn’t be calling Baxter to blackmail him in front of Joanne. They must have parted ways.

Baxter unclipped his private cell from his waist and punched in a number. Mr. Idiot answered on the first ring.

“They got away, you moron. Again.”

“What? The car—”

“Strip the car of the GPS and go home. You can’t be anywhere around that hotel.”

“But—” His man huffed over the line. “So then what?”

Baxter related the exact spot in the woods to watch on Monday. “There will be a box there, with ‘Ann’ written on top. You got all this?”

“Written down. When’s she coming?”

“I don’t know. Anytime after ten. Just hide and watch.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t miss. And I don’t ever want her body found.”

“When do I do the other lady?”

“We’ll talk about her later.”

“What about my leg, man? It’s still got a bullet in it. I got it wrapped up, but it hurts like—”

“Dig it out yourself.”

Baxter smacked off the call.

FORTY-SEVEN

After our initial shock over Melissa’s disappearance, Dan jumped on the phone to the local police. Perry headed out to search for Melissa himself. “She couldn’t have gotten far.” He threw open Dan’s front door and ran outside.

I stayed behind, too tired and sick at heart to hurry after him. Perry wouldn’t find her anyway. She’d skulk in the dark until she was blocks from Dan’s house. The police with their spotlights were more likely to locate her.

Back in Dan’s kitchen I listened to him request that Hollis-ter police put out a BOLO—Be On the Look Out—for Melissa. If found, she would be arrested. They’d bring her in on the gun charge and the material witness thing. A little time in jail should change her mind about testifying against Baxter. But the fact that Melissa was on foot made the BOLO more difficult to be effective. Police wouldn’t have a certain car to be searching for. Who knew what friend Melissa might call to pick her up?

“She’s likely to call Tony Whistman,” I told Dan as soon as he got off the phone. “The guy she just broke up with.”

Dan stood in his kitchen, one hand on his hip, the other drumming his granite countertop. He looked none too happy. “You know how to contact him?”

“I have his cell number. I don’t know his address, but I can find that quickly enough if you get me on a computer.”

Dan reached for the phone. “I can have his name run for his address and driver’s license. For now I can put some fear in him, in case Melissa’s already called. What’s his number?”

If Melissa had phoned Tony, he could already be on his way to pick her up. Fortunately it would take him some time to reach Hollister.

“Just a sec.” I hurried to the living room and pulled my notebook from my purse. Back in the kitchen, I rattled off the number. Dan punched in the digits, then hovered over the counter, head down.

I watched him listen to Tony’s phone ring. Anxiety pinged through my system like wayward electrodes. My legs threatened to give out any minute. I so needed sleep, but I wasn’t about to get it now. More than that, I needed a new life. No matter what happened here, Vonita would never be the same for me.

My body wobbled. I pulled out a kitchen chair and fell into it.