Kay David: Obsession

She was out of her chair and standing when he stepped into the doorway. They stared at each other for five seconds, Kelman’s eyes angry and cold, Emma matching his look, her determination fierce. He opened his mouth to speak, but she didn’t wait.

She raised the gun and fired.

Incredibly, she missed. With the deafening sound of the shot still echoing around the room, Kelman recovered with a scream and lunged toward her. Before she could fire again, he was beside her. He grabbed the barrel of the gun and jerked it from her. A sickening wave of fear rolled over her as she felt the weapon leave her grasp.

“What in hell do you think you’re doing?” He clutched the pistol, holding it out of her reach.

“You damn near killed me!”

“That was my plan!” Her chest heaved, her breath coming fast. “Did you think I would let you blackmail me, threaten my children-ruin my life-and get away with it?”

“Ruin your life? What do you call what you’ve done to me?”

He was panting with the effort of disarming her, yet his glare was so cold, so chilling, she felt a shiver go up her back. If she’d needed any confirmation, this was it. He knew what she had done.

“I can’t be responsible for changes in the market.”

He shook his head like an angry bull. “The market didn’t change. You deliberately traded that money the wrong way. You bought dollars, and you should have bought bolivianos. You knew what was going on, and you went the wrong way on purpose.”

“Not according to the change order you signed. You told me to buy dollars. I have it in writing.” She stared at him steadily, while inside she was quivering.

His eyes narrowed into two angry slits. “I didn’t sign any such order and you know it.”

“Maybe I do,” she said slowly, “but no one else will. I have a signed order, and it’s locked in my desk.”

Her words took up all the space between them and filled the tense silence. After a moment, he shook his head, a gleam approaching admiration coming into his cold gaze.

“You planned this, didn’t you? The trade, my anger…this.” He lifted the gun, and the metal caught the light and glinted malevolently. “You were going to tell the police I was angry over the trade and broke in here. That you killed me in self-defense.” He shook his head. “I’d almost be impressed, Emma, except it didn’t quite pan out, did it?”

“The night’s not over yet,” she said.

“That’s the first thing you’ve been right about all evening.”

He smiled, and something skittered down her back again, something cold and truly fearful. Refusing to give him the pleasure of seeing her fright, Emma held herself stiff and gazed back.

“Let’s go upstairs.” He looked at the gun and tossed it onto the sofa, clearly having other plans.

“It’s time for this farce to end…”

HE WASN’T OUT but a second; the smell of dirt brought him quickly to his senses. Rolling over, then standing in one quick motion, Raul came up fighting, his fist connecting solidly with his very first punch.

A grunt sounded, then a whoosh of air flew by his jaw as a swing was delivered. It came a moment too late to land, and Raul ducked instinctively. He was fighting a shadow, but he didn’t really care. Whoever it was, he meant to stop Raul, and Raul couldn’t let that happen. He feinted left and struck right. Again the hit connected, and the dark outline of a man pitched backward. Raul threw himself on top of his attacker and struck out blindly, his knuckles scraping over the thick whiskered jaw time and time again. The man cried out and raised his arms, but it was a useless attempt to protect himself. Raul continued to pummel until his fist gleamed wetly in the darkness and the other man whimpered, curling into a ball in the grass at his feet.

Raul pulled back, his chest heaving, his gasps loud and painful in the pitch-black garden. He took three deep breaths, then scrambled to his feet and pulled the man up with him by his collar. Dragging him to the front of the yard, Raul recognized him instantly.

It was Kelman’s drunk, the man who’d put the bug in Emma’s purse. Raul cursed soundly. “I should have killed you when I had the chance.” He jerked the man around and started to pat him down. In his pocket he found an ancient.38, a replacement for the one Raul had taken from him before. With another curse, Raul pulled the weapon out and stuck it in the waistband of his pants. “What in hell do you think you’re doing?”

The minute his mind cleared, Raul understood, not needing an answer to his question. Kelman had brought the man with him as a precaution in case someone unexpected showed up at Emma’s. Someone like Raul. A flash of white rage swept through him as the implication sunk in.

The drunk read Raul’s expression and his face collapsed with fear. He cried out and reached up to pry Raul’s fingers from his shirt collar, but he wasn’t fast enough.

Cocking his fist, Raul reared back then smashed his knuckles into the man’s jaw, every ounce of force and rage he had stored up for Kelman behind the punch. It landed squarely with a loud crack, pain ricocheting up Raul’s arm and into his shoulder. He never even noticed. Instantly the drunk’s body went slack, and Raul let it drop like the useless bag of garbage it was. He never looked back as he ran.

KELMAN’S PRONOUNCEMENT took a moment to soak in. When it did, Emma started shaking her head and backing up. He took a step toward her and grabbed her by the elbow, his fingers biting into her flesh. He pulled her into the hall and said roughly, “You don’t have a choice in this one. You’ve used up all your chances.”

She struggled against him, kicking and lashing out, but it did no good. He was strong and he was angry. Hauling her toward the stairs, he started upward, and she had to follow or fall down and be dragged. They reached the top and he turned right to go into her bedroom. He pushed her into the room and slammed the door shut, a finality to the action that made her turn weak.

“Get in there,” he said, tilting his head toward her bathroom.

Again, she didn’t move, and this time when he grabbed her, he was even more violent. His fingers locked around her upper arm with a bruising force, and swearing loudly, he pushed her into the bathroom, throwing her to the hard marble floor once they stepped inside. She watched as he reached into his pocket.

When he yanked his hand back out, he held a small plastic bottle. He pitched it at her, and she raised her hands in defense, catching it at the very last minute.

It was a common medicine vial from the farmacia around the corner. Like all the pharmaceutical shops located on every street in Santa Cruz, you could walk in and buy any drug you wanted. Most required no prescription. The label was written in Spanish, but a single word leaped out to Emma’s startled gaze. Valium.

From his coat pocket, he pulled out another bottle, and this one she recognized even before he tossed it to her. She dropped the pills into her lap and caught the bottle as it sailed toward her. It was a pint of vodka. She looked at him questioningly.

“You’ve been very depressed. Everyone at the office has noticed your weight loss, the bags under your eyes, the mistakes you’ve been making. They haven’t known why, but tomorrow, when the police ask, they’ll point out that you weren’t looking well.”

His eyes glittered in the darkness and his voice went deeper. “Your ex-husband will confirm everything. He knows how unstable you’ve been lately. The drugs and the alcohol won’t surprise him a bit.” Kelman shook his head. “It’ll be a shame, but everyone will understand since you had a little problem before. You didn’t have a choice. You missed your children and hated your job. Your only answer was suicide.”