The Unkindness of Ravens by M. Hilliard (readera ebook reader .txt) 📗

“Of course.” He smirked. “You spelled out the evidence so cleverly in your little chart. You really shouldn’t have left that on your desk, Greer. You never know who’s wandering around in that building. Now give me your bag and drive.”

The egotistical bastard really thought he was going to get away with it. I needed to buy time and distract him before he realized the evidence was not in my bag. I’d worked for this type of arrogant ass more than once. I knew how to get under his skin.

“Matthew, you’re not nearly as smart as you think you are. Honestly, you couldn’t even kill the right woman on your first try. You didn’t even recognize your own wife. You’re a joke.”

“Shut up and drive!” he screamed, pressing the blade harder against me.

I eased the car into drive, and rolled slowly through the lot.

“That wasn’t my fault,” he said more calmly, “that was a last minute change of plan. If my stupid wife had been where she was supposed to be, none of this would be happening.”

“Oh, but she’s not stupid, Matthew. She’s the smart one. She always was. Everyone knows she got your law firm off the ground. She figured out what you’d done to your sister, and then to your mother.”

He was breathing heavily. I kept my eyes on the road ahead. We were moving toward the last dip in the road before the bridge. Coming toward us, straight down the center of the road, was a large, black bird.

“You’re nothing but a lifelong failure, and pretty soon everyone will know it,” I said.

“SHUT UP!!!” he screamed. “Shut up, shut up!”

“Loser, loser,” I sang out.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw him draw back the hand with the knife in it, ready to plunge it into my neck. The raven flew at the windshield, screeched, and went up and over.

Nevermore.

I pulled the wheel hard to the left and hit the gas. The car spun, hitting the water that had pooled in the road and hydroplaning. Matthew was flung sideways into the door, losing the knife as he tried to catch himself. The car came off the road and skidded to a stop on the bank. I threw myself out and ran toward the footbridge. I gained some traction as I got off the wet grass and put on a burst of speed, but it wasn’t enough. I had reached the bridge when I was caught from behind.

I struggled, but I was outmatched. Matthew was dragging me closer to the edge. In seconds I’d be in the frigid water, and unless help arrived immediately, either the current or the cold would get me.

I made a decision. I had one last trick up my sleeve. I threw my weight forward against Matthew’s arms, pulling him off balance. As soon as he tried to compensate, I hurled myself backward, pushing off with both feet and launching us against the rickety rail. I heard it crack, and we were airborne.

I was going into the kill, but I was taking Matthew Prentiss with me.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

The shock of hitting the icy water sucked the air from my lungs. The current pulled me under and spit me out hard against the stone piling of the bridge. I clawed at it, disoriented, and slipped under once more. Opening my eyes briefly in the murky water, I managed to right myself. I kicked against the frigid darkness, trying to move toward the glimmering light above me.

I broke the surface in the shadow of the footbridge. I clung to the uneven stone, gulped in air and blinked to clear my vision. The gnawing cold had me shaking uncontrollably as my body grew numb. I had to get out. I searched along the piling and tried to find a handhold. My scrambling feet had found purchase against the deadfall wedged between the pilings when a splash and a curse to my left sent me shrinking back into the shadows.

It was Matthew Prentiss. He was working his way toward the bank, strong swimmer’s strokes moving him between rocks he would grip and push off from. He paused once, scanning the bank and the stream. I stayed still. Over the rain and rushing water I heard the faint sound of sirens. So did Matthew. He struck out again for the bank, his eyes fixed on the still-running SUV so close to the water. There was a chance he would escape.

I would not let that happen.

I edged around the piling, keeping low to the water in the shadow of the bridge. I pushed against the deadfall with my feet, kicking loose roots and branches that shifted and sent up bubbles of fetid air. Breathing through my mouth against the stench of rot that surrounded me, I gained the bank just behind Matthew. As soon as his back was to me, I struck. Lunging from the water with my arms outstretched, I clawed at his jacket, pulling him back down the slippery slope.

He turned his head, eyes wide with shock. With a snarl he jabbed his elbow into my chest, sending me flying. I hit the ground half in the water. I got my face clear but couldn’t drag myself out. Just when I knew I was done, that the cold and the pain were too much, warm hands touched my shoulders. They gently rolled me over and eased me up the bank and away from the kill.

It was the young officer who had accompanied me home a few nights before. Behind him was a haze of flashing lights. Jennie Webber was pounding across the bridge. A string of police cars lined the road, an ambulance right behind, blocking any escape.

Jennie reached me and helped me sit up, thumping my back as I choked and sputtered.

“Felicity,” I gasped, “car. Backseat.”

Jennie yelled out some orders and other officers sprinted toward the SUV. But where was Matthew Prentiss?

I stood, swaying, and looked around. Jennie kept her