Deadly Ever After by Eva Gates (distant reading .txt) 📗

be quiet. The dog’s finally stopped barking. That can’t last much longer.”

Holding Fluffy, not daring to turn on my flashlight, I picked my way carefully through the marsh grasses. The fog covered all traces of moon and stars, and I couldn’t see a blasted thing. On the other hand, that meant Stephen couldn’t see me either.

I stepped on a dead branch. It snapped with a sound as loud and sharp as a gunshot.

“Oh, you’re over there,” Stephen said, in a voice calmer and far closer than was good for me. Still, as long as he was talking, he wasn’t killing me. Clearly, he was so impressed with his own cleverness that he had to tell someone all about it.

“You’re wondering why I might have wanted Rich to die, as that would inevitably lead to an examination of his records, which would in turn incriminate me. Truth be told, Lucy, I didn’t much care if Rich lived or died, but his timing wasn’t good for me. I was taking my own time, being careful, scrubbing any traces of my involvement in some of his schemes out of the records, moving my money slowly and carefully so it couldn’t be traced. The records are mostly clean now, but I didn’t need Rich blabbing the whole story to Millar before I’m ready to take my leave of them all.

“You’re also wondering how I might have gotten Rich to the restaurant that night, if I’d wanted to that is. If I wanted to, I’d have sent him a note, asking him to meet me. No one ever said Richard Lewiston Junior was smart. I wouldn’t have been able to use my phone, didn’t want anyone tracing it. I couldn’t use a burner; he wouldn’t answer a number he didn’t recognize. I didn’t tuck the note under his windshield wipers when he was paying for gas. No need to sign it; he’d know who it was from.”

Stephen was right about one thing: it was a long way to the highway. Was the mist thinning? I feared it was. I’d soon be dreadfully exposed out here in the marsh. I needed to get to the shelter of the trees before the light of the moon broke through.

“You might be thinking it was a coincidence that I asked—didn’t ask, I mean—Rich to meet me at the same restaurant you were having dinner at. I never trust to coincidence, Lucy. I checked online to see which were the nicest restaurants near Evangeline’s hotel. The sort of places she would go to. The name Jake’s rang a bell. Ricky had said something several months ago about Millar and Suzanne going to her niece’s wedding in Nags Head. Did you know Evangeline tried to wrangle an invitation, but Suzanne was having none of it? It was a small family celebration with the reception at the fiancé’s restaurant, a place called Jake’s. Ricky got quite a hoot out of his mom being snubbed like that.

“You never know what apparently insignificant bits of information are going to be useful someday, Lucy. That’s why I never forget anything. Rich appreciated that about me. Anyway, if I wanted to kill Rich, which I didn’t, that’s the way I would have gone about it. I’d have arranged to meet him at the restaurant where his family and associates were dining. A bunch of rich, entitled people, some of them lawyers, no less, being questioned by small-town hick cops confuses the waters. If I had been involved in Rich’s nasty little schemes, I would have had a tough decision to make while I finished moving my money. Stay at the Boston office and help Millar sort through the accounts, or come back here to keep an eye on things knowing that Rich’s records are such a mess even Millar would need time to trace anything back to me. Enough idle chatter. Got you!”

A bright light shone directly into my face, blinding me. A hand reached out of the fog and seized my arm. I screamed and dropped Fluffy. The dog fell in a chorus of frightened barks, and I was thrown to the ground next to her.

Stephen was on me, his hands around my throat, his weight pressing me down. I scratched at his arms and tried to reach his face. He grinned down at me, his face a horrific mask in the harsh light thrown by his flashlight. I kicked and thrashed, but he didn’t let go. The pressure increased.

Connor.

I would never see the house Louise Jane had found for us.

Stephen let out a howl of pain, and his eyes opened wide in shock. I felt his body move as he kicked out at something behind him and the pressure on my throat relaxed. I sucked in a breath, gathered all the strength I could, and shoved at him. He fell to one side, and I rolled away. He didn’t try to stop me, and I scrambled to my feet.

I looked down to see Stephen lying on his back, screaming, his pant leg torn, his leg bleeding, his hands up to protect his face as Fluffy, sweet little Fluffy, lunged for his throat.

Chapter Twenty-Three

I hesitated. Should I make a run for it, save myself while I had the chance, or take precious time to grab Fluffy? Stephen would soon get the upper hand, and he would kill the sharp-toothed but tiny dog in his fury.

Fortunately, I didn’t have to decide. The quiet (aside from the screaming of the man and the snarling of the dog) of the marsh was shattered by blaring sirens. Red and blue flashing lights cut through the night and the fog. Doors slammed. Men and women shouted. Flashlight beams blinded me.

I held my hands in front of my eyes and yelled, “I’m okay. I’m okay! It’s him. He killed Rich Lewiston.”

“Get it off me!” Stephen screamed. “Shoot it!”

“No! Don’t shoot. The dog saved me. Fluffy! Fluffy. Here.” I grabbed the little dog, still having a go at Stephen’s throat, by