Erica Spindler - Killer Takes All

Her voice quivered when she reached the most recent part of the story. “She must have overheard us talking. Stacy left, and she appeared in the doorway. She was so…angry. She called me a…an ungrateful little bitch.”

She clutched Stacy’s hand. “She flew into the room. Going after me like a crazy person. I didn’t know what to do,” she whispered, voice small and shaky. “She had a…had a hold of me. She was dragging me toward the window…I had the gun. Stacy’s gun. I took it in my hands and I…I-”

She broke down then. Sobbing. No doubt over her mother’s betrayal. The loss of her father. And despair for her life, which had been forever altered.

It broke Stacy’s heart. She held the girl while she cried, giving Malone her statement in pieces.

Tony ambled over to where they sat. “Good news,” he said.

They all looked up at him. The words felt odd. Inappropriate and out of place. Could there be anything good about this day?

“I just talked to your aunt Grace, Alice,” Tony said. “She was able to book a flight leaving tonight and will be in around midnight. I figured I’d meet her plane.”

“Aunt Grace,” the girl repeated, a tremor in her voice. As if she had forgotten she still had family. As if being reminded now that she did was the greatest gift she could have been given.

Spencer met Stacy’s eyes briefly. “You go home, Tony. We’ll meet that flight. The three of us.”

Midnight at the New Orleans airport was a little creepy. A market the size of the Big Easy received very few flights this time of night. Their footsteps echoed in the cavernous terminal, all the kiosks and vendors had closed, and only a handful of weary agents manned the terminal desks.

Alice said little but hung close to Stacy as they waited at the end of the terminal. Thankfully, the woman’s flight arrived on time. The pair held each other for a long time, clinging to one another and crying. As gently as she could, Stacy nudged them along, first to Baggage Claim for the woman’s luggage, then the parking garage.

“We took the liberty of making a hotel reservation,” Stacy said. “If you made other arrangements-”

“Thank you,” Grace said. “No…I didn’t even think…I always stay with…”

Her words trailed off. They all knew what she had been about to say.

She had always stayed with her brother. Leo.

Within thirty minutes, they had dropped Grace and Alice at the hotel. Stacy accompanied the pair inside, made certain there wasn’t a problem with the reservation, then returned to the car.

She buckled up. Spencer looked at her. “Where am I taking you, Stacy?”

She held his gaze. “I don’t want to be alone, Spencer.”

He nodded and pulled away from the curb.

Wednesday, April 13, 2005

3:30 a.m.

Stacy sat bolt upright in bed, awakened by the truth. “Oh, my God,” she said, bringing a hand to her mouth. “She lied.”

“Go back to sleep,” Spencer mumbled.

“You don’t understand.” She shook him. “She lied about everything.”

He cracked open his eyes. “Who?”

“Alice.”

He frowned. “What are you talking about?”

Her head filled with the memory of the day she had carried Leo’s mail to his office. Valerie had asked her to do it; she’d set it on the top of his laptop computer. Her focus had been on the mail itself, on the Gallery124 invitation.

Not on the computer.

No longer. With her mind’s eye, she could see it clearly. Titanium case, a distinctive apple-shaped logo at its center.

“Alice told me she found Cassie’s computer and knew it was wrong because no one in their family used an Apple. But Leo did. It was on his desk.”

“You’re certain about this?”

“Yes, positive.”

“It’d be really easy to verify.”

Stacy struggled to come to grips with what she was thinking. Could it have been Alice all along?

“The law books,” Stacy said. “The DSM-IV. She was studying, covering her ass. Just in case.”

He sat up. “You realize what you’re suggesting, right? That the teenager was an integral part of the plan.”

“I’m not suggesting that at all. I think the plan was hers alone.”

She had his full attention now, she saw. All traces of sleep had fled his features. “Alice planned every move, by herself?”

“Yes.”

“She brought Troy in.”

“Yes.”

Stacy shook her head. It hurt. She didn’t want it to be true. Didn’t want Alice to be that person.

He was silent a moment. “Do you really think a sixteen-year-old could have pulled this off?”

“She’s not an ordinary teenager. She’s a genius. An experienced gamer. I imagine a brilliant strategist.”

I’m smarter than both of them. Did he tell you that?

“She made a point of telling me how smart she was. She was very proud of her IQ. Arrogant about it, really.”

He rubbed a hand along his jaw. “But why’d she do it, Stacy? The money? We’re talking about both her parents, for God’s sake.”

“The money was secondary. She wanted her freedom. She felt she deserved it. They were holding her back. Overprotective. She said so. They kept her from going to university, insisted on having her home-tutored.”

“You overheard her and Kay fighting, saw Kay trying to kill her.”

Stacy shook her head. “No, I saw them struggling. Heard Alice’s shouted accusations.”

“Which confirmed what you already believed.”

“Yes.” Stacy dragged a hand through her tangled hair. “Kay was most likely trying to figure out what the hell was going on. Trying to calm Alice, bring her to her senses. Why didn’t I see it until now?”

“ If what you’re thinking is true.”

Stacy met his gaze, determined. “It is.”

“You’re going to need proof. More than catching her in a lie that’s based on a memory you recalled while asleep.”

She laughed, the sound tight. Angry. “I’m not going to let her get away with this.”

“So, what are you going to do, hero?”

Friday, April 15, 2005

10:30 a.m.

Alice and her aunt were staying in a suite at the Hilton Hotel at the Riverwalk. Stacy had been in contact with the pair, had told the woman she planned to visit, so Grace wasn’t surprised when she saw her.

Smiling, the woman swung the door open. “Stacy, how nice of you to come by.”

“With one of her favorites.” She held up the frozen moccaccino. “Super-size.”

“She’ll like that,” Grace murmured. “She’s hardly left the suite. Just for meals and when the maids come.” The woman’s eyes filled with tears. “It’s horrible. She must feel so alone. And so betrayed.”

Stacy would describe her emotion more as self-satisfied and elated, but she kept it to herself. For now.

“I hate leaving her,” Grace said, “but I’m trying to get all of Leo’s things packed up and-”

Her throat closed over the words. Stacy felt pity for the woman: she had lost her only sibling.

And was about to learn that his daughter was the one who had killed him.

“She’s having a bad morning,” Grace added. “I don’t know how to make it better.”

Stacy squeezed the woman’s hand, fighting the anger that surged through her. It was all one big game to Alice. People, their emotions. Their very lives. One big competition to be won.

The woman went to Alice’s bedroom door and tapped on it. “Alice, sweetheart, Stacy Killian is here to see you.”

After a moment, the girl emerged from her room. She looked like she had been to hell and back, her face so ravaged Stacy experienced a moment of doubt.