Deceit

FIFTY-FOUR

AUGUST 2004

Melissa froze. The sudden light in the closet shown harshly on Baxter, crouched in the back.

Linda stilled, her hands up in front of her, fingers spread. She gaped at her husband as if he were some ghastly apparition.

No one moved. Baxter’s mouth opened but no sound came.

A growling cry escaped Linda’s throat, full of despair and hatred and rage. At the threshold of the closet she tilted to one side, nearly fell over. Her right hand gripped the door jamb, and she caught herself. Slowly she straightened, her knuckles blanching white.

“I knew it!” she screamed, her head tilted back, a throbbing pulse in her neck. “I knew it, I knew it!” She heaved herself backward, fingers dug into her scalp. Her wild, glazed eyes rose toward the ceiling. Abruptly she swiveled and hurtled out the door.

“I’ll ruin you both right now!” Linda’s threat shrieked through the air. Melissa heard her footsteps pound down the stairs.

Baxter jumped up. “Linda, stop!” He ran after her.

A terrifying sequence shot through Melissa’s head. Linda would call Joanne Weeks. Or jump in her car and screech over there.

Melissa raced out of the room behind Baxter.

They hit the stairs. Melissa slipped at the top one and crashed into Baxter. He cursed, grabbed the banister. Melissa righted herself, and they tore down the rest of the way.

From the kitchen rolled the sound of Linda’s wrenching sobs.

“Linda!” Baxter raced across the hall and around the corner into the kitchen. He skidded to a halt. Melissa nearly ran into him a second time. She swerved to his right and stopped in her tracks.

Linda stood six feet away, both hands pointing a butcher knife toward her husband. Her feet were far apart, her teeth bared like a feral animal. “Don’t you come near me.”

Baxter raised his hands. “What do you think you’re doing? Put that down right now.” He stepped toward her.

“Don’t!” Linda’s cheeks flamed. She jabbed at the air, hands shaking.

“Put it down now, Linda. Or I promise you’ll be sorry.”

Fear stretched her expression. She held on tighter than ever. Melissa took in Baxter’s slitted eyes, the rock of his jaw. She’d never seen him so angry. She looked back to Linda, unpredictable and crazed. Melissa knew how sharp that butcher knife was. Many a time she’d watched it glide through meat. Panic bloomed in her head.

Four diagonal feet away from Melissa sat the butcher block of knives on the counter.

“Linda, put it down!” Spittle flew from Baxter’s teeth.

“I’ll cut you, Baxter, so help me.” Linda brandished the huge knife. “You and your perfect little Christian self.”

Nothing would be the same after this night, nothing. “You’re not going to win this, Linda,” Melissa spat. “Two against one.”

Linda sneered at her husband. “How cute. Now you have a sixteen-year-old protecting you. Were you that helpless in bed too?”

Baxter’s eyes shot fire. He lunged at his wife.

“No!” Linda carved the knife through the air. Baxter dodged to one side. The blade whooshed inches from his arm.

Melissa darted for the butcher’s block and yanked out a carving knife.

Baxter whipped upright and leapt for Linda again. She cringed to her right, fell into the counter. Her clenched hands sank, but she fought to keep hold of the knife. “Stay aw—”

Her husband balled a fist and smashed it into her cheek. Bone crunched. Linda’s head ricocheted. Her eyes flattened.

Linda’s stubborn hands thrust the butcher knife upward. Baxter swung away.

Melissa darted behind Linda, her own blade raised.

Keening moans spilled from Linda’s lips. She staggered a step toward Baxter, knife swinging. Her cries climbed higher, higher, until Melissa’s brain would explode with the sound.

Baxter jumped to the side and hit the stove. Linda closed in, screaming like a madwoman sacrificing on the altar. She raised her blade high, pointed down.

Melissa gritted her teeth, jumped behind Linda, and plunged the carving knife deep into her back.

The scream cut off with a gasp. Linda’s head rolled to one side, almost in slow motion. The butcher knife clattered to her feet. A strangling sound rose in her throat.

Melissa pulled shaking fingers from the knife handle.

Linda slumped to the hardwood floor.

FIFTY-FIVE

FEBRUARY 2010

Perry offered again to let me sleep in his guest room. He needed to get to his store, so I’d still be alone. “But maybe after all that’s happened you’ll feel safer at someone else’s place,” he said.

We’d just driven away from the Jackson house. I’d looked back twice, still seeing that hate-filled expression on Baxter’s face.

Justice, Linda. You’re finally going to have justice.

“Perry.” I squeezed his arm. “Thanks. But now that it’s done, I just want to sleep in my own bed—while I can.”

Dan and Slater were going to fight against bail for Baxter, but they couldn’t guarantee they’d win—especially if plans went awry and they didn’t bring in Melissa right away. Until she led them to Linda’s body and testified before the grand jury, they couldn’t add the charge of Linda’s murder to those Baxter currently faced.

If Baxter got out on bail, I would not be spending nights alone in my own house.

Perry gave me a wan smile. He looked tired too. “I understand. Check in with me when you wake up?”

“Count on it.”

On the short drive to my house I called Dineen. No answer. She was probably in the shower, getting ready for work. “It’s done,” I told her message machine. “Everything’s okay. I’m going to sleep now. Call you when I wake up.”

Perry insisted on coming into the house with me just to make sure all was well. As we walked past Billy Bass in the hall, the stupid thing went off. I nearly jumped to the ceiling. Perry watched Billy’s performance, chuckling. “I haven’t seen one of these things in years.”

I looked from him to Billy Bass, sudden awkwardness floating around in my chest. I rubbed my arms. “It was Tom’s.”

Perry gave me a long, searching look. Then nodded.

I turned away and made for the Jelly Belly drawer in my office. Popped a handful of myriad flavors onto my tongue and chewed like there was no tomorrow. My jaw seemed to move in slow motion.

“Want some?” I asked Perry, my mouth full.

He shook his head. “It’s more fun just watching you.”

At the front door I hugged him, and he held me for a moment, chin resting on my head. He smelled slightly of men’s lime soap, even though we’d been up all night. His arms around me felt so…good. I didn’t want to let him go.

“I’ll never thank you enough, Perry.”

“Nah. It was nothin’. You need me again—‘Help Is on Its Way.’” He raised his eyebrows.

My brain wouldn’t work. “Chicago?” The tune played through my head. “No. Little River Band.”

“What album?”

“Greatest Hits.”

“Cheater.”

“I gotta get to bed.”