Blake Crouch - Confidence Girl - The Letty Dobesh Chronicles

Someone on the second floor yelled his name

“Down here!” he shouted back.

“You got her?”

“Sort of!”

Letty moved her thumb toward a green icon on the cell phone’s keypad which she assumed would initiate the call.

As the other men came running, James said, “Who you calling?”

“Nine-one-one.”

“Why don’t we talk about that, okay?”

Letty’s right biceps had begun to cramp from holding the Raging Bull with one arm.

She could hear the other men in the hallway now.

James yelled over his shoulder, “Everybody stay back!”

“What exactly do we have to talk about?” she asked.

“How dialing that number is going to get you killed.”

“Way I figure, I’m dead either way.”

“That’s not true. But if you involve the Monroe County Sheriff’s Department, we’re going to have a problem. Why don’t you put that gun down. I’ll do the same. And we’ll talk.”

“I’m not putting anything down. You people tried to kill me.”

“What if I were to guarantee your safety?”

“I’d call bullshit.”

“You put the gun down. I’ll get you some clothes. And I’ll have you back on Key West within the hour.”

“You must think I’m really stupid.”

“No ma’am.” He shook his head. “This can work out for everyone. Of course, you’d have to do a few things for me.”

“Like?”

“Like never mention any of this to anybody. Ever.”

“What about that famous dead man on the beach? Aren’t some people expecting him tomorrow?”

“We can damage control the mess you made of Mr. Fitch.”

“The mess I made.”

“It’s you I’m worried about.”

Over James’s shoulder, Letty spotted a man creeping into view.

“Your buddy right behind you is about to get you shot, James.”

“Go sit in the living room!” he yelled. “All of you!”

“James—”

“Right now, Scott.”

She heard them falling back.

James looked at her. “Better?”

“For some reason, I don’t think you’d be so interested in talking to me if I didn’t have this big goddamn hand cannon pointed at your chest.”

“Now that’s just not true. You put it down and see.”

“I don’t think so. Tell me again how you’re planning to damage control your boss.”

“If all goes well,” James said. “If you and me don’t have a big shootout...you’ll see some breaking news tomorrow morning. Go something like this...convicted CEO of PowerTech found dead on his private beach. He took his own life the night before he was scheduled to report to prison. There will even be a suicide note.”

“Oh, you can fake his handwriting, too?”

“No, he already wrote it.”

Letty didn’t want to, but her strength was failing. She set the cell phone on the floor at her feet and took a two-handed grip on the revolver.

“Asking yourself why he might’ve done such a thing?” James asked. “Regardless of what you may think of him, Fitch is a brilliant man. He saw this as a possible outcome of what he had planned for tonight. He didn’t want anyone to take the fall. Not me or the other guys. And not even you, the woman who killed him.”

“Prince of a man.”

James patted his lapel pocket. “I’ve got his note right here.”

“That’s a pretty story,” Letty said. “And you’re a world-class conman.”

“Call my bluff. Put that gun away and see. I’ve got a lot of work to do before the sun comes up.”

“I’m thinking, if I put this gun down, you’ll do one of two things. Shoot me straightaway and bury me on this island. Or take me out into some deep water. Dispose of me there.”

“I can certainly understand you thinking the worst. All things considered.”

“So then how can you honestly believe I’d ever put this gun down with you still breathing?”

“Because when you think it through, you’ll see there’s no other way. Maybe I’m lying. You’ve got three rounds left in that Taurus. You’d kill me. No doubt. If you got really lucky, you might kill one of my other men. But the third? And the fourth? They’d take you down. And you know this. The thing is, if you shoot me, you’ll never find out if I’m lying or telling the truth. ‘Cause you’ll be dead. In fact, I don’t want to alarm you. I don’t want you to make any sudden moves. But there’s a man standing on the deck right behind you. He’s pointing a three-fifty-seven at your head through one of the panes of glass. And he could’ve fired sixty seconds ago.”

Letty exhaled a long, slow breath.

She hadn’t heard any footsteps on the other side of the French doors.

It was a smart play on James’ part. Get her to turn her head. Distract her just long enough to raise his weapon and fire.

James was smiling now.

Letty’s palms sweating so badly the grip of the revolver was dripping.

“So what do you say, Letty? Doesn’t some part of you want to know if I’m actually this good of a liar?”

“Not really.”

She squeezed back the hammer.

The moment her finger touched the trigger there was the sound of wood splintering and glass breaking behind her.

The gun fired as someone crashed into her back with devastating force.

She went down hard, crushed under the weight of a man with foie gras on his breath. Footsteps raced down the hallway, the other men pouring into Fitch’s bedroom.

She struggled, but it was no use. He had her pinned to the hardwood floor and the gun lay just out of reach.

The man on top of her said, “James, you hit?”

“Just a graze across my shoulder. Damn if that wasn’t close though.”

Letty’s eyes welled up as she felt him jerk her wrists behind her back and bind them together with a Zip Tie.

“Quit fighting me, sweetheart,” the man whispered into Letty’s ear. “It’s over. You’re done.”

16

The noise of the powerboat engines was deafening.

Letty’s hair whipped across her face, but she couldn’t brush it away with her hands still bound behind her back. James was at the controls and she sat in the bucket seat behind him, next to the man who’d taken her down. He was the oldest of Fitch’s security crew. Forty-five or fifty with shoulder-length hair the color of dishwater.

The sun wasn’t up yet, but the first light of dawn had begun to color the eastern sky.

Letty’s underwear rippled in the fierce wind.

She shivered.

Waiting for the engines to go silent.

Dreading it.

Of all the ways to die, considering her past, she feared drowning more than anything. Would they tie something around her to weigh her down? Then just throw her over the side?

She would beg for a bullet when the time came.

And if they don’t oblige you?

They would have to. She’d do whatever it took. She couldn’t allow herself to be tossed overboard while still alive. Couldn’t spend her last three minutes sinking into the cool, dark sea. Fighting that terrible thirst for oxygen as it swelled up inside her lungs. Meeting the same death her daddy had almost given her.

The panic grew.

She could feel herself beginning to come apart at the seams.

And then...

Lights shone in the distance.

# # #

James throttled down as they approached the marina.

He guided the boat into an open slip and killed the engines.

He got up and faced Letty.

“Stand up,” he told her.

She stood.

The man beside her pulled out a folding knife and cut her wrists free.

James reached into the co-pilot seat and grabbed a wad of clothes. He handed them to Letty.

“You’re letting me go,” she said.

James nodded.