Leann Sweeney - Pick Your Poison

“Yup.” Steven grinned and patted my cheek. “Such a smart girl. And guess what? Feldman had as much money as Charlie. When I told the old man Ben Grayson was about to show up with a uniformed cop on his elbow, Feldman realized he needed my help. I took care of the Ben problem. Got a nice down payment on what was supposed to be Feldman’s lifetime commitment to me.”

“Who will pay your bills now, Steven?” I said, and realized immediately I’d taken the questions a step too far.

“That’s none of your goddamned business.”

“I’m sorry,” I said quickly. “You’re right, of course.”

“Damn straight, I’m right,” he said, sounding calmer. He began to trace small circles on the top of my hand.

His touch, once familiar and welcome, now felt like a rattler’s tongue before the strike. “So Feldman killed Cloris himself?” I said.

He nodded. “Sounds like you’re a lot like her, babe. She was making waves. Digging around where she had no business.”

“Had no business? We were her flesh and blood.”

“She made a deal with the devil. You do that, you end up skewered on a pitchfork.” His hand moved to my knee.

I tensed. Keep him talking; then find a way out . I had to focus on those two things, or my rage and disgust might make me do something stupid.

“My mother never made any deal,” I said. “Feldman tricked her. But after years of searching she finally tracked him down, didn’t she?”

He uncorked the flask and drank, then wiped his mouth with the side of his hand. “Yeah. He told me about her. Seems she had proof Feldman forged the adoption papers and threatened to file suit. And then there’d be criminal charges. So he followed her back to Shade. Watched her house... her routine... and when he saw her pick up that cold medicine at the drugstore, the rest was easy. Her door wasn’t even locked, he said. He just walked in when she was gone, put the cyanide into the capsules, and left.”

He swigged again and continued. “After the ambulance and cops left her house, he got inside and removed the evidence. Seems they weren’t all that particular about their crime scene up in Shade.”

“Evidence? What evidence?”

“Some handwriting expert’s written opinion that the papers were forgeries. But don’t you think I bettered Feldman with my acid-cyanide deal when I doctored your roses? Ben never knew what hit him.”

“You played us all like a fifty-dollar fiddle, didn’t you?” I said.

“Aren’t you proud of me, Abby?” His eyes were red-rimmed and liquid. “But you know what’s funny about all this?”

“What, Steven?” I asked. Had to keep him talking. As long as he kept bragging, I stayed alive.

“When Ben started sniffing around, Feldman didn’t care as much about the whole world knowing he was a baby thief and a murderer as he did about having to leave his house. Geezer was a fucking nutcase.” He offered me the bottle again, almost like we were sitting at some bar, having a good old time drinking and bullshitting.

I took a tiny sip and handed it back.

“You had to snoop around, babe, didn’t you? Ruin everything. Why did you have to do that?” He took my hands between his own.

I felt like springs were uncoiling in my stomach. I didn’t like the change in his tone. “I don’t know why, Steven.”

“Every time you filled me in on your little detecting game, I had to stop and think how to stay ahead of you.” He turned my hand over, wet his finger, and rubbed at the dried blood on my palm.

It required every ounce of willpower not to pull away.

“I kept Helen and Feldman in the dark about you as long as I could,” he said. “See, Sammy didn’t know about you and me. He thought I worked for Charlie, thought that’s how I found out about the adoption. But when Kate brought that check over to Helen...” He waved his finger in my face. “Big mistake, Abby.”

“Your girlfriend Helen knew who I was?” Keep talking, Steven. Please keep talking.

“Ah, so you know about us. She came on to me first, if you’re wondering. Anyway, seems you got Sam all riled up. He blabbed everything to Helen—the old adoption, how I had killed Ben, the blackmail.” He brought my hand to his cheek. “Another mistake pretending to be Terry, sweetheart. Feldman panicked, called me over there today. ‘Do this,’ he said. ‘You have to do that.’ And he got in my face. So I pushed him. He cracked his skull. And all thanks to you.”

Thunder rumbled above. “What about your girlfriend? What will you do about her now that she knows everything?”

He smiled, and how I wished this mellow mood would last. “Helen’s a smart woman. Almost as smart as you. She won’t talk.”

“You couldn’t keep your hands off her, could you?” I said. I was running out of ways to stall him and thought maybe he’d like to brag about her for a while.

“She was married to an old man,” he said. “And you know how I can’t stand seeing a woman in need.”

“I know way more than I ever wanted to about that, Steven.”

He cupped my face in both his hands. “Jealous, babe?”

I stared into his eyes. “Yes,” I said. “I think I am.”

His thumbs pulled my mouth into a tight, painful smile. “You should smile when you lie, babe. It’s much more convincing.”

He pulled my face to his and crushed his mouth against mine, forcing his tongue between my lips. He tasted sour—foul. When I couldn’t even fake a response, he put his hand on my breast—and shoved me away.

I hit the wall again, the pain slicing through me as if I’d been shot.

“Lost that lovin’ feelin’, huh, babe?” he said, his words slurring ever so slightly.

The fear inside me seemed to be shrinking to something hard and strong, like a fist, ready to strike. Fear could help you, I thought. Fear was a powerful thing. I stood. “I’m leaving. This is over.”

He grabbed my arm, his grip like steel. “Time to finish this.”

Finish this? How? How would he kill me? As he started to drag me toward the stairs, more thunder sounded, and a vicious squall began to hammer the roof and side of the house.

“You can’t, Steven,” I said. “I know you can’t.”

His voice was cold. “You don’t know the first thing about me. You walked out of my life and nothing ever hurt so bad. I tried scaring you off the case. I loosened that board upstairs, hoping to put you out of commission, but twenty-four hours later you’re digging deeper than ever. Why couldn’t you wait until I had Feldman under control? Why?” He shook me, then pushed me, and I stumbled backward.

The phone rang.

His head jerked in that direction.

Then everything went black. The electricity had gone out.

I took off, brushing against a wall, the phone still shrieking behind me.

I heard a thud and Steven cursed.

I rushed through the empty dining room into the kitchen. Felt my way to the counter and swept with my hand, searching, sending twisted paper bags flying and plastic liter bottles clattering to the floor.

Where is it? I saw it thirty minutes ago! I saw it!

I was trembling all over as I groped for what I needed, wishing my eyes would adjust quicker.

There!

Steven found me, took hold of my shoulders, and spun me around.

I drew back as his breath blew warm and menacing near my forehead.

“Got you!” he said.

I felt for his face. For a landmark. And sprayed him with the roach killer.

He yelled and let go of me.

I ran for the back door, slamming my hip on the counter along the way. I nearly tripped over the rubble still littering the mudroom floor, but stayed close to the intact inner wall. I made it out the door.