Chelsea Cain - Heartsick

He turned away from Reston and Susan and walked the few feet to the corner galley. There was a small stove and a steel sink set in a green countertop. The cupboards were painted white. Archie opened a few of them until he found some glasses. He took one out and poured himself a glass of water. He couldn’t hear Susan struggling anymore. Had she lost consciousness? Had he blown this, too? And then, at once, there came an enormous choking gasp. Reston had let go of the belt. Susan was breathing. She coughed, hoarse and rasping. Archie closed his eyes, feeling his blood rush to his fingertips. It had worked.

“What are you doing?” Reston asked him.

Archie waited a few breaths before he answered. Let the bastard wonder. “I have to take some pills,” he explained, his back still turned. “I can take them without water, but they work faster if I wash them down with something.” He turned back to Reston and gave him a courteous smile. Then he sat on the tan upholstered bench at the green fold-down dinette table, careful not to slide his knees under the tabletop, so that he could move quickly if he had to. He set the glass of water on the table. Archie could see the lights of the Coast Guard boat through the tiny porthole over the dinette. Which meant that they could see him. Good.

“I’m going to reach into my pocket now and get the pills,” he said, and before Reston could respond, he reached slowly into his pocket and retrieved the brass pillbox. He opened it and counted out eight pills and lined them up one by one on the dark green tabletop. Even in this environment, he felt a surge of endorphins just looking at them. “I know it looks like a lot,” he said to Reston. He raised his eyebrows wryly. “But I have a high tolerance.”

Reston had Susan by the waist again. She was still coughing as her airway tried to convince itself that it was clear. But she had managed to pull the belt off her neck and it now lay in a heap at her feet. Good girl, thought Archie.

“Susan,” he said pleasantly. “You okay?”

She nodded, raising her head to look at him, eyes flashing with defiance again. Reston pulled her tighter toward him. Archie picked up a pill, put it on his tongue, and washed it down with a drink of water from the glass. Then he set the glass back down on the table. “You got Addy to come to you,” he said to Reston.

Reston nodded. “She needed someone who made her feel special.”

“But you took the other girls,” Archie said. “So how did you fake your alibis?”

“It was easy,” Reston said. “I watch rehearsals from the light booth. The kids can’t see inside. We’d do a run-through. I’d give notes. Then we’d do another run-through. They’d see me go into the booth before they started and out of the booth when they were done. I would leave a few minutes into the first act.” He smoothed Susan’s tangle of hair like one would a doll’s, and she recoiled at his touch. “I could find them, talk to them, and kill them and be back by curtain. The girls would be dead under blankets in my car and I would be giving the actors notes I had made up. I didn’t even need to see the run-through. They made the same fucking mistakes every time.” Reston looked down at Susan and then back up at Archie. “I’m not going to let you take her out of here,” he said.

So Reston was an overconfident asshole in addition to being a rapist-murderer. Maybe Archie could use that to his advantage. Archie glanced around the cabin. “This is a nice boat.”

“It’s Dan McCallum’s.”

“Right,” Archie said. “Dan McCallum. The suicidal serial killer.”

Reston gave Archie a fleeting smile. “I just wanted to buy some time.”

Archie picked up another pill, tossed it in the air, caught it on his tongue, and washed it down with more water. He set the glass back on the table.

“I could kill you if I wanted to,” Reston said, his voice hollow and tremulous. “I could shoot you and her before they got inside.”

Archie ran a hand through his hair and tried to look bored. “You’re not scary, Paul.” Then he added, “I’ve seen scary.”

Reston was unraveling before Archie’s eyes, shifting his weight from foot to foot and squeezing his eyes shut in a hard blink, an involuntary tic. He grappled with Susan, continually adjusting his grip on her, fidgeting with the gun, moving it a fraction of an inch in Archie’s direction, then back, not wanting to waver from Susan. Susan kept her eye on the gun. Her whole body was shaking, but she appeared to be keeping it together. The tears had stopped. Reston leaned his head close to hers and kissed her on the cheek. “Don’t be afraid,” he told her. “It’ll be quick.” She flinched, and Reston squeezed her tighter. Then Reston turned to Archie. The pits and neck of his shirt were stained with sweat. He stank of it. “Do you recognize me?” he asked Archie. His expression was pleading, hungry.

No question. Reston was definitely losing it. “From yesterday on the porch?” asked Archie.

Reston ’s eyes narrowed. “Think back.”

Reston looked so serious, so certain, that Archie actually found himself searching his memory for what he might be talking about. Had he arrested Reston before? No, he didn’t have a record. A witness he’d interviewed? Lord knew, he interviewed thousands of witnesses in connection with the Beauty Killer case. He shook his head blankly, coming up with nothing.

Reston was growing increasingly unwound. “I’ve killed four people,” he announced.

That meant that Addy was still alive.

Archie heard the engine of another boat approaching. The helicopter. Bright light glowed beyond the cabin’s portholes.

He picked up another pill. Washed it down. Put the glass back on the table. His own twisted Japanese tea ceremony. “Did you like it?” he asked.

Another involuntary blink. “I had to do it. I didn’t want to do it. I didn’t have a choice.” Reston ’s jumpiness worried Archie. Reston wasn’t nervous enough about what was going on outside. The other boat. The lights. He wasn’t worried about being arrested, and to Archie, that meant one thing: He’d already decided to die.

And if SWAT rushed the boat, the first thing Reston would do would be to kill Susan Ward.

“But did you like it?” Archie asked again.

“The first one was hard. After that, it got easier.” He worked his mouth into a sick grin. “I didn’t like having to kill them. But I liked it afterward.”

“How did you choose them?” Archie asked.

“They all auditioned for the district-wide musical last year.” Reston laughed at the ridiculousness of it. “They’re expensive, musicals. Because of budget cuts, none of us could afford to launch one on our own, so the high schools got together and cosponsored one.”

That was the connection, thought Archie. Henry was right-they had all been freshmen last year. A district-wide musical? How could they have missed it?

“I was the director,” Reston continued. “I didn’t cast any of them. They weren’t good enough. But I remembered them. And they remembered me. They all wanted to be stars. I told them I wanted them each in my next play.”

“Young girls are easily manipulated,” Archie observed flatly.

Reston smirked. “I’m a very popular teacher.”

Susan rolled her eyes. “Please,” she said.

Archie took another pill.

“What are the pills for?” Reston asked.

A smile skated across Archie’s lips. It just might work. He ran his finger around the lip of the glass, never taking his eyes off Reston. “I have dark fantasies.” There was Gretchen again. Her hand against his cheek. The lilacs.

Then Archie had a thought. He could probably get Reston to shoot him. Provoke him a little more. Needle him until he became so enraged at Archie that he was willing to train the gun away from Susan long enough to take a shot. Archie bet he wasn’t a good shot, probably never been to a range. But if Archie got close enough, Reston might be able to hit him in the head or neck. It was an easy way out. In the line of duty. Everyone would understand that. Henry would know. Debbie, too, probably. But everyone else would just chalk the tragedy up to his dark fate. Poor Archie Sheridan. It’s probably for the best. He was never quite the same after his ordeal.