Lisa Jackson - Malice

“No!” She was fumbling with her keys, desperate to retrieve the album. “No, this is all wrong.”

Olivia just kept on filming.

“Look what you’ve done!” She was frantic, desperate to retrieve what was left of the soggy, disintegrating album. “You screwed everything up! You’re ruining everything!” Her frustration and paranoia mounted and for the first time, it seemed, she realized her actions were being caught on camera.

“Give that back to me now!”

Olivia wasn’t in the mood. Shivering, keeping her tormentor in her viewfinder, she said, “You want it, bitch? Then come and get it.”

“There she is!” the skipper yelled over the cutter’s engines and the rush of wind. They were jetting through the dark water, leaving a white wake behind.

“Oh, shit, she’s listing.”

Bentz squinted into the night, saw the Merry Anne in the powerful beam of the search light.

His heart fell to the floor as he saw the skipper was right; the vessel was leaning hard to one side, sinking fast.

“No,” he whispered, disbelieving. “Oh, God, no!” Against everyone’s protests, he’d donned a wet suit with the intent of boarding, but now the captain was pulling up short. “Get closer!”

“No. We’d better leave this to the Guard,” he said. Already rescuers were trying to board the smaller craft. “Just wait.”

Not a chance.

“Pull up closer,” Bentz insisted.

He thought Montoya would argue. Instead, he turned to Hayes and ordered: “Do it.”

The cutter drew alongside the listing boat. “Really Bentz, you should leave this to the professionals,” Hayes warned. They were less than twenty feet from the sinking Merry Anne . “You’ll only get in the way.”

“I am a professional,” Bentz reminded him as he climbed onto the railing. “And it’s my damned wife.”

From the corner of his eye, he saw Hayes lunge, ready to restrain him, but Montoya caught the L.A. detective’s arm. “Let him go.”

Bentz focused on the boat, looming larger as they closed in. Twelve feet away…eight feet…five…At that second, Bentz jumped.

The killer’s plan was falling apart.

As her precious photos swirled on the surface of the rising water, she gathered them, one by one. “No, no, no!” she whined, temporarily forgetting her prisoner. “All my work…years…oh, God, this can’t be happening…my photographs!” She seemed near the brink of tears as water sloshed around her waist and Olivia, fighting cramps and freezing, caught her paranoia on film. Plastic pages floated past, photos curled as they became saturated with water. Olivia’s back was pressed against the bars, the boat tilting at a frightening angle. In a few minutes it would be over. She had to get the damned keys!

Plastic pages floated past.

Olivia thought she heard a noise, a thud. Oh, Jesus, was the boat breaking apart?

The woman heard it as well and she seemed to snap back to reality, noticed again that she was being caught on film.

“Give me back the camera!”

“I said come and get it.” Olivia stood firm, propped by the steel bars, the camera trained on the bitch’s face. Water was splashing above her waist now, weighing her down.

“Damn it!” the woman held the wet photos against her with one hand and struggled with her keys in the other.

“Who are you?” Olivia said. “You might want to tell the viewers your name so you get all the credit that’s due you. Let’s see, is your name…Dawn?” Olivia guessed, remembering that Bentz had once been involved with a cop by that name.

“Stop it.”

“Or are you Bonita…was that it?”

“That bitch? No way!” She snorted in disgust. “Bentz must have mentioned me.”

“I don’t think so.”

Another thud…oh, God, the boat was going down!

“Sure he did. Corrine. Right?”

Olivia shook her head. This woman was Corrine O’Donnell? Of course she’d heard the name before, but she wasn’t going to give this twisted killer the satisfaction. The boat groaned menacingly.

“Corrine. I worked with him. Dated him. Jesus, we slept together and…he loved me. We…we dated twice, almost lived together but then he left me. Both times for Jennifer…” Her voice trailed off. “They all leave, you know. Every one of them but Bentz…I was fool enough to have trusted him twice and he left me alone…all alone…” She shuddered, then, as if realizing she was letting on too much, focused on Olivia again. “I should have used the stun gun on you again!” Another picture passed by, this one of her with Bentz.

She let out a little squeak of denial, then snatched it up. She nearly lost the keys, trying to unlock the gate, “But I wanted you to fight. I wanted ‘RJ’ to see you straining to breathe your last pathetic breath, and now…” She gasped as the keys fell from her fingers, drifting through the bars to the inside of the cage.

Panicked, she tried to stretch her hand into the cage to take hold of them.

Olivia, seeing her chance, shoved the woman back. If she could snatch the keys and unlock the gate, maybe make it to the stairs…

The boat let out a long, low moan and the lights flickered. Olivia’s heart sank. It was now or never!

Taking in a gulp of air, Olivia spotted the fallen keys, then dove down. Her hair and clothes floated around her. On the floor of the cage, the keys glistened enticingly as she reached for them.

To her horror she saw the killer’s hand snake through the bars even further, her index finger catching the ring!

No! Olivia thought, her lungs protesting, her abdomen still cramping. No!

She surfaced at the same moment the killer did and thrust her arms through the rails, her fingers tangling in the woman’s hair and pulling her under.

Her assailant struggled, wrenching back, whipping her head around.

Olivia hung on. If she was going to drown, by God, this woman was going to drown, too! Struggling, fighting, splashing, they fought. Twisting, turning. Olivia’s lungs felt as if they would burst. Oh Lord, help me…

Again she thought she heard something.

But not the boat keening. No…it was different. Shouts?

Footsteps?

Could someone be on the boat? Oh, God, please!

The lights flickered again.

She took in another huge gulp of air mixed with salt water.

Coughing, sputtering, hanging on for dear life, she dragged the killer’s head closer to the bars and swung hard with the camera, connecting with the woman’s skull. Thud! A sickening crunch.

Blood stained the water.

More shouts from above!

“Help,” she screamed. “Help! Down here!”

Corrine grabbed her by the neck and dragged her down. Olivia, gasping, took in air and water as together they sank below the surface.

No! No! No!

Olivia thrashed wildly.

Corrine’s grip tightened. Their eyes met. Corrine was smiling beneath the water, her dark hair and a spreading plume of blood fanning around her, her eyes bright and psychotic. I’ve got you, she said without words. You and your baby are going to die right now!

Olivia’s lungs were on fire.

The world was swirling, swimming. She tried to pry Corrine’s death grip from her throat.

She couldn’t hold on. She needed air!

Feebly, Olivia struck again with the camera, connecting with Corrine’s forehead.

Then the lights went out.

Were those footsteps? Frantic voices? The sound of angels calling?

In the darkness she felt the camera slip from her fingers…felt Corrine’s hands on her throat…felt herself drifting away in the cold and the blackness…

Her abdomen ached and she thought of the baby and of Rick Bentz. I love you, she thought and saw the light, the round white light as if it were in a tunnel.