Brenda Novak - The Perfect Murder

He could kill the kids, he assured himself. He’d do it in front of Mary. But not until he’d had the chance to confront her…

Slipping out of the boys’ room, he approached the door at the end of the hall and paused to listen to the TV droning behind it. Was she awake and watching a program as he liked to do? Or had she fallen asleep with the TV on?

He was about to find out, about to see the woman he’d loved since he was sixteen years old. Maybe he’d tell her she could save herself and her children by having sex with him. He’d threaten her, tell her not to make a sound while he forced her to deliver on all the false promises she’d made. She owed him that much, didn’t she? Then he’d kill the children, saving her for last, clean up any evidence he might’ve left behind and slip away.

Too bad her first glimpse of him would include overalls, a hairnet, gloves and plastic bags over his feet. Dressed this way, he certainly couldn’t compete with the stylish, debonair Sebastian Costas. But he couldn’t compete with him, anyway.

At least Mary would be scared. She’d be terrified, and that was all that mattered.

He’d teach her that he was no fool, he thought, and went into her room.

Sebastian was so tired he almost fell into bed without checking to see if Malcolm was online. For once, he didn’t want to get involved in a conversation. His time with Jane had left him even more unsettled than after she’d lowered her skirt and walked out this morning. Why? What was it about her? His feelings were so confused-a mix of commiseration, identification, admiration, lust. Even disgust for what she’d done with Oliver’s brother. He knew it would be easier not to think about her if he could sink into unconsciousness for a few hours. After all the late nights, he needed a break.

But force of habit had him booting up his computer while he brushed his teeth.

He opened his own e-mail first. Mary had IMed him from her account around midnight. Hey, you there? You up?

He checked to see if she was still on and got no response, so he read his e-mails. His mother had sent him a message, letting him know she’d couriered the handwriting sample. His boss from Lincoln Hawke had also sent him a message.

When are you coming back? There’s a great opportunity here for you, perfect for someone who wants to get away. It’s in Hong Kong.

He was hearing from Bill Masters more and more often. His boss had been understanding to begin with, but now he was getting impatient. He didn’t want to lose one of his most successful investment specialists, and had repeatedly said that Sebastian could make it even in today’s banking environment. But Sebastian wasn’t remotely tempted to accept an assignment in Hong Kong. He felt as if he’d been living in a foreign place ever since Malcolm killed Emily and Colton.

After rinsing out his mouth, he thanked his mother and wrote a polite response to Masters, telling him he needed a little more time. Then he logged into Mary’s e-mail account. He didn’t see a message from Malcolm, but he knew she’d been using the account earlier. She’d IMed him from it. So he opened the Old Mail file to see what had happened in his absence.

He found nothing from Malcolm, or Wesley as he called himself, in Old Mail, either. But something stood out that seemed very strange. Mary had received an e-mail from Sebastian.Costas@yahoo.com.

He didn’t have an account at that address, and he doubted Mary knew someone else with his name and had failed to mention it.

What was going on? A trickle of fear ran through him as he read the message.

Hey, any word from Malcolm?

There was no signature, nothing but that one line.

The dread kicking up his heartbeat increased as he opened Mary’s Sent folder and saw that she’d replied.

Malcolm responded. He wants to know what’s in the package, but he didn’t leave an address. I’ll reply, see if I can get it out of him, okay?

Sleep tight. I’m glad you got to bed early for once.

Mary

Who’d sent the first message? And who’d received the reply?

Sebastian’s muscles tensed as he realized who the likely culprit was. Malcolm was on to them. He had to be. The sneaky bastard had figured out a way to see if they were in communication with each other, and because they’d been out of touch tonight, it had worked.

His pulse racing, Sebastian checked the time on Mary’s message. She’d sent it at 12:08 a.m., presumably right before she went to bed. Several hours had passed since then. It was after two when he and Jane had finished at the casinos. What time was it now?

His eyes flicked to the bottom right of his monitor-3:15.

With a curse, he called Mary’s house. He had to find out if she was okay. And if she was, he needed to warn her that the jig was up. This changed everything…

The phone rang several times.

“Answer, please answer.” He could hardly hear above the rush of blood in his ears, but he was fairly sure the voice that finally came on wasn’t a live one. A beep confirmed it. He’d reached her answering machine.

“Mary, take the kids and get out of the house! Immediately! Go somewhere safe. Malcolm knows you’ve been helping me. God, Mary, please pick up.”

The machine beeped again, this time to signal the end of the tape. Then a dial tone sounded. Sebastian would’ve redialed, but he was in too big a hurry. After he hung up, he called the police. Then he grabbed his keys and his coat and dashed out the door.

The telephone was his first clue that something wasn’t as it should be. When it rang, Malcolm didn’t wake Mary, although he’d been about to. He shrank back, into her walk-in closet. There was a phone on her nightstand, but she didn’t even stir. She probably didn’t get many phone calls in the middle of the night and assumed it was the TV, which got louder whenever a commercial came on. Or maybe she’d taken a sleeping pill. He knew she didn’t like living alone. She’d said so.

After what felt like an eternity, the ringing stopped. He could hear someone talking. An answering machine? It seemed to be coming from the middle of the house. But some guy selling exercise equipment on TV made it impossible to hear anything more than a low murmur.

What should he do? Get it over with? Or get out? Would lingering for another ten minutes get him caught?

The thought of prison terrified him. He knew what the inmates did to cops gone bad-even former cops. And what about his parents and siblings, and the men with whom he’d served on the force? They’d hear about it; they’d learn the truth.

Mary stirred as he left the closet. “Curtis?”

The phone had awakened her, after all. She believed the kids were up.

He hurried to the door and hustled down the hall.

“Brandon?” she called. She sounded more alert, almost frightened. Damn whoever had interrupted with that phone call! He’d been so close…

But he’d fix it, Malcolm told himself. He’d have another chance.

Afraid he might run into someone-like the police-if he went out the front, he darted into the laundry room and crossed to the back door. Without any streetlights, the yard was dark and provided more places to hide.

Opening the door as quietly as possible, he slipped into the yard and maneuvered through the shrubs. Then he hopped the fence, crouching in the corner of the neighbor’s yard to watch and listen. If that random call turned out to be nothing, maybe he could still get to her, demand Sebastian’s address before he killed her and disappear before dawn.

She’d heard movement. Mary was sure of it. Someone had been in her bedroom. She’d seen a large dark shape move quickly to the door just as she was coming awake. But both her boys were asleep and, when she roused them, they insisted they hadn’t gotten out of bed even to go to the bathroom. What was going on?