Sophie Oak - Siren in Waiting

“I could simply disappear.”

“And your face will be everywhere. This isn’t the city. This is the middle of nowhere. A murder like this will be all over the news. How helpful will your employer find you then? Think about that before you kill the man I love.”

Carlo’s eyes became cold slits, his handsomeness almost reptilian in the moment. “I take your point, Miss Hobbes. Take mine. I don’t have long. I need to find what I came for, or I have no use for any of you. My employer would rather keep this quiet. If I don’t have to dispose of bodies beyond Mr. Hughes, I would welcome that. I would rather leave you tied up for the authorities to find. That would not make a huge news story. But I will kill you all if I don’t get what I want.”

Beth nodded. She took a long breath. She hated the fact that Bryce’s body lay in front of the door to her bathroom, but Carlo wasn’t moving it.

“Shelley, what do you remember about Barry?” Barry had been the one to hide the drugs.

“I remember he was an asshole.” She sighed. “Honestly, now a lot of things make sense. I remember hearing him and Bryce…” She choked on the name, her eyes going to the body, but she took a breath and visibly calmed. “Barry and Bryce had a huge fight before Barry died. Before Bryce killed him. None of it made sense at the time. Barry kept insisting that Bryce was cutting him out. He said he wouldn’t be cut out. I guess he was talking about the drugs.”

“And it would have been easier to hide them here than his own place. That would have been the first place Bryce would look,” Bo reasoned.

“Maudine was sick the last few months of her life. It wouldn’t have been hard to hide something from her. I didn’t think she and Barry were that close,” Beth explained.

“They weren’t,” Shelley said. “When he started to visit her a couple of times a week, everyone thought it was because he was getting in good before she died. He told Bryce as much. He told Bryce that all the old lady ever did was watch TV and write in that journal of hers. He said she probably wrote pages about him since she didn’t have much else to write about.”

“The journals. Of course.” Beth started to cross the room, excitement lighting her step.

“Careful,” Carlo warned.

Beth held her hands out. “I have to get a box out of the closet. The woman who owned this house kept meticulous journals all of her life. They’re in the closet. Maybe she saw something. She would have written it down.”

Carlo nodded slowly toward the closet door, the warning clear in his eyes.

Beth opened the door and pulled out the box. She took a moment, searching for anything she could use. The closet was full of housedresses and sensible shoes and blankets. Nothing that would help.

“Miss Hobbes.”

Beth opened the box and pulled out the newest journal. “Found it. Give me a second.”

She scanned the last several weeks of Maudine’s life.

“‘Barry visited again. Vulture. The vultures are circling as my life comes to an end. He can’t fool me. I never even liked his father.’ And then she talks about her cats. There’s a lot about her cats in here. Apparently Mr. Sprinkles had bowel issues.”

“Beth,” Bo said, his mouth a firm, authoritative line.

She skipped the sections on cats. “Here we go. ‘Barry the vulture came again today. I don’t know why he bothers. He’s always on his phone. He never really listens. He offered to clean out the barn though. Why, I have no idea. No one has used the barn in fifty years.’”

Beth looked up. “The barn. We should look there.”

Carlo nodded. “We will look there. Mr. O’Malley, you will join us. I believe I will leave Mrs. Hughes. Her mouth has proven to be difficult to deal with. I can solve that problem for you, darling. I probably will. I’m intrigued. I believe you will make an excellent hostage. Otherwise, I might not make it out of this piss hole. Sleep well.”

He brought the butt of the gun down on Shelley’s head. She sank to the floor.

“Is she alive?” Beth asked. She wanted to go to Shelley. If Trev’s sister was dead, she would be devastated.

“Her head is very hard. She’ll be fine. On your feet, O’Malley.” Carlo kept the gun on Bo as he struggled to his feet.

Bo’s hair was in his face. He tossed it back. “It’s going to be okay, Beth. It’s all going to be okay. I’ll be okay no matter what happens.”

She knew what he was saying and dismissed it utterly. He was telling her to run if she had the chance. He was telling her that he’d rather die than watch something bad happen to her. But she could take whatever would happen if it meant they came out of this alive. She wasn’t fragile. She wasn’t timid anymore, either. She was his woman. She was Trev’s woman. She was going to survive.

Carlo nudged him with the gun. Bo moved forward. He tripped and fell against her. They went tumbling to the floor.

“Baby, he’s not going to let us live.” Bo’s plaintive words were whispered in her ear. “Run. Run and find Trev.”

Carlo held the gun to the back of Bo’s head. “I suggest you get up, O’Malley. I’m not fooling around.”

“Sorry,” Bo mumbled. “I tripped. I’m not used to walking around without the use of my hands.”

Beth fumbled to get up. She stooped to help Bo.

“I love you, baby. You run. You leave me behind and don’t look back. You tell Trev to take care of you.”

“Move away from him,” Carlo ordered.

Beth stepped back. She looked at the man she’d loved since she was a child. He’d been a strange child, quiet and yet filled with pride and rage. Tender and yet quick to anger. He’d been her friend even when it hurt him. He’d been afraid to move beyond friendship, but even that slight fell away in the face of his love for her. They’d been each other’s silent strength. It had taken Trev to get them to speak.

“I won’t, you know.” She didn’t care that Carlo was listening. Bo needed to understand. She wouldn’t run. She wouldn’t leave him behind. She would stand beside him even if it meant she died.

“You’re going to get in serious trouble, Bethany Hobbes.”

“I already am.”

She turned and started to walk down the hall. She heard Bo shuffling behind her.

“I warn you, I have a hand on him. If he ‘trips’ again, I will be forced to fire.” Carlo’s deep voice cut through the quiet of the house.

Beth took the stairs carefully. Bo was probably right. No matter what he’d said, Carlo would more than likely kill them. He wouldn’t want to leave any witnesses. Carlo was lying. He might take Shelley with him, but Shelley wouldn’t survive the experience. She would disappear somewhere south of the border and more than likely wish she was dead.

She walked across the lawn like an automaton, focusing on her feet. One in front of the other. She crossed over the grass and the drive. The barn loomed in front of her. She hadn’t been inside. It had seemed dark and foreboding. Most of the land had been sold to the O’Malleys and the livestock auctioned off long before that. Beth had planned on either tearing the barn down or turning it into a guesthouse.

She hadn’t planned on it becoming her tomb.

“Open the door, dear,” Carlo ordered. His politeness seemed a nasty, suspicious thing.

She would find the drugs. She would find them, but Carlo might not like the way she handed them over. She wouldn’t allow Bo to die. And if she went down herself, she would go down fighting.

Trev parked a half a mile away. He didn’t dare get closer. He needed the element of surprise. If Leo did his job, it wouldn’t be too long before the sheriff made his way here.