Last Kiss Goodbye (23 page)

AFTER ALL THESE YEARS, it was liberating to finally reveal himself to Ivy. He’d wanted her ever since he’d made contact with her, two years before.

No, that was a lie. He’d wanted her over the years as he’d watched her grow into a woman. He’d fantasized and dreamed about having her the same way he’d had her mother, Lily Stanton. Naked. Vulnerable. Opening her legs to take him into her body.

Then begging for mercy and her life.

The fact that his own mother had raised Ivy after she’d thrown him out had infuriated him. He’d made her pay the last few years by showing up at odd hours when she was alone. He’d sworn that if she told Ivy about him, he’d kill them both, just as he had her parents.

Terrified out of her mind, she had reported to him weekly, reassuring him that Ivy didn’t remember.

“George, you’re scaring me,” Ivy said now.

He almost laughed at her doe-eyed, innocent look. And he could feel the fear radiating from her. That fear stirred his cock.

“You still don’t understand, do you, Ivy?”

Her hand trembled as she brushed her hair from her cheek. “No, I…I’m sorry Miss Nellie sent you away. Why didn’t you ever tell me? Why didn’t she?”

His harsh laughter rumbled through the car as he careened to a stop in front of his old homestead. Memories of the dark days inside those walls rose to haunt him. The cries of his mother when his brother had died.

His own when she had thrown him out.

He recalled the elation he’d felt when he’d returned as an adult to make that land deal. Granted, he’d stolen the property deed from the Stantons after he killed them and forged their signatures, but he’d wanted his mother to be proud of him, had thought that she might finally acknowledge him. Instead she’d turned her back. What kind of mother abandoned her child? Why, he’d almost felt sorry for Mahoney when
his
old lady had done the same thing at his trial.

But not sorry enough to confess…

He never should have gotten tangled up with Lily Stanton. It was all her fault. She was too much temptation for any man.

But at least he’d made enough money off the first land deal to invest. He had a good eye for investment.

The sound of Ivy punching in her cell phone jerked him back to the present, and he reached out and grabbed it, then flung it out the door.

Ivy cowered against the cold leather seat. “What are you doing, George?”

He latched onto her wrist and dragged her toward him. “You’re finally mine, Ivy. I’m going to take care of you just like I did your mother.”

Terror registered in her eyes as she realized his words were the same ones from the threatening phone call.

“You…oh, God, no, George, don’t do this,” Ivy whispered. “You have to let me go.”

“Not until you love me the way your mother did, Ivy.” He jerked her to him, pressed his mouth over hers and kissed her hard. She struggled against him, then bit his lip. He bellowed, jerking back, any tenderness for her disintegrating.

“You’ll be sorry you did that, Ivy.”

“I’m sorry I ever trusted you,” she said raggedly.

She reached for the car door, but he slapped her across the face. Her head flew forward and hit the dash, then he lunged toward her, grabbed her by the wrists and dragged her from the car. She screamed and shoved her foot into his groin, fighting wildly. He cursed, but she jerked free and ran toward the woods. Spurred by fury and adrenaline, he chased her, dodging tree limbs as he closed the distance.

Run, Ivy. Run like the wind or the monsters will get you.

Oblivious to where she was going, but desperate to escape, she raced through the briars and thick brush, scraping her legs and hands and arms as she struggled to escape. If she could make it to the river, maybe she could dive in and swim to safety. Rain peppered her face, its icy chill slapping her cheeks, and fear tore at her. If she did make it to the river and dove in, she’d probably die of hypothermia.

Maybe she could make it back to Lady Bella Rue’s.

But then George would follow and kill the old woman. Ivy couldn’t put her in danger.

Panting for air, she pumped her legs harder, fighting the darkness and pushing vines and brush out of her way. But the briars and tree limbs stabbed at her, slowing her down, and George bellowed behind her like a madman.

How could she have not seen the truth about him?

Twigs and branches snapped as he closed the distance, and she reached for a broken limb to use as a weapon, but just as she turned, he snagged her by the hair. She thrust the limb at him, but he yanked it from her, swung it down until it connected with her knees. Raw pain sliced through her kneecaps, and she fell to the ground, screaming. Still she pushed at his hands and face, trying to scratch his eyes and throat, but he slammed his fist into the side of her face, and the world spun.

He took advantage of the moment, throwing her over his shoulder and hauling her back toward the cabin. Nausea rose in her throat and she sobbed, pulling at his hair and pounding his back with her fists.

Seconds later, he swung open the door to the cabin and tossed her against the brick fireplace. She scrambled to her knees and tried to stand, but the room swayed, and it was so dark she had to blink to orient herself. He slapped her one more time, and her body bounced backward. Her head hit the jagged edge of a brick, pain sliced her skull and blood trickled down her forehead as she sank into unconsciousness.

CHAPTER TWENTY

PANIC SEIZED MATT AS HE stared at the empty cabin. Ivy’s things were gone. And her tires had been slashed. So where was she?

He phoned A.J. and he sent out his deputy. They searched the woods surrounding the cabin, but found no signs Ivy had gone on foot into the woods. Besides, she had her suitcase.

Frantic, he and Pritchard returned to the police station. He hoped Ivy had gotten a ride, but fear gnawed at him.

Matt paced the sheriff’s office while the agents began the interrogation again, this time with Kintrell included.

“What’s the name of the developer who originally purchased the Stanton property?” Agent Gentry asked Boles.

“The head of the company was a man named Allan Parkins, but a young guy named George Smith actually brokered the deal with the Stantons. He was the only one I ever spoke with.”

“Where can we find this Smith?” Agent Blackberry asked.

“He lives in Chattanooga now,” Boles admitted. “He’s funded several smaller companies, some real-estate based, others not so.”

The hair on the back of Matt’s neck prickled. George Smith—the name didn’t ring a bell, but hadn’t Ivy received a phone call from a coworker named George? Could it possibly be the same man?

The door opened and Lady Bella Rue teetered in, her black veiled hat angled sideways, her long black cloak wrapped around her. When she saw the two suited federal agents, her eyes flickered perceptibly.

“Lady Bella Rue,” A.J. stared. “We’re in the middle of something here.”

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” she said, waddling on in, “but I had another bad premonition this morning.”

The agents narrowed their eyes.

“Lady Bella Rue is our resident witch,” A.J. said sarcastically.

“You’re the lady those boys targeted, aren’t you?” Agent Gentry asked.

Lady Bella Rue nodded and offered her outstretched, gnarled hand. The suits shook it, introducing themselves.

Lady Bella Rue turned to Matt, her expression grave. “Mr. Mahoney, you have to do something. Ivy Stanton is in trouble.”

Matt’s heart accelerated. “What makes you think that?”

“I…went by the cabin to see her and found the car there, but the tires were slashed, and she wasn’t anywhere around.” She worried the knots tied at her neck. “Besides, I’ve had this feeling all day that someone else would die tonight. That the killing wasn’t over.”

Matt’s body went cold. He had the same feeling. He hurriedly tried Ivy’s number again, but no one answered. What if this George Smith was the one who’d tried to kill Ivy? What if he’d wanted the land deal enough to cheat Lily and her husband out of the money? If Ivy had witnessed the murder, she might be able to identify him. And if he was here in Kudzu Hollow, she might have accepted a ride from him without knowing who he really was.

“Boles, tell us more about George Smith,” Matt ordered. “Where is he?”

Arthur shrugged, looking haggard and weary. “I told you all I know.”

“George Smith,” Lady Bella Rue said, clapping one hand over her cheek. “Oh, my word, is that boy back?”

“What do you mean,
back?
” Matt asked.

She clucked her tongue. “His mama, Nellie, sent him away when he was younger. After his brother died, the boy went crazy.” She leaned closer. “Some folks thought that he was possessed by the devil, that he was insane, that he even killed his brother.”

Nellie? The name sounded familiar.
Miss Nellie raised me after my parents died,
Ivy had said. Dammit, could it be the same Nellie? “Who was his mother?” Matt asked.

“Nellie Smith,” Lady Bella Rue said in a screechy voice. “She was so lonely she took Ivy in after her parents died. Poor little Ivy didn’t have anyone else in the world, so the authorities finally agreed.”

Miss Nellie was George’s mother?

Miss Nellie always seemed to hold something back,
Ivy had said. They’d never been close. And Miss Nellie hadn’t wanted Ivy to come to Kudzu Hollow to look into her past.

Christ. What if George had killed the Stantons, and Miss Nellie had known? Maybe she hadn’t taken Ivy in to atone for her son’s sins, but to make sure Ivy never remembered him and revealed his identity.

RAIN POUNDED THE METAL roof, rousing Ivy from unconsciousness. Her head throbbed and the room spun in dizzying circles, white dots popping before her eyes. She blinked several times and finally managed to bring the room into focus. But when she tried to move, panic shot through her.

Her arms were tied to the rickety iron bedposts, and heavy ropes bound her ankles to the footboard. The room was dark, the old curtains faded and closed, the scent of dust and mildew swirling around her. George’s familiar cologne turned her stomach.

“So you’re awake now, my pretty Ivy.”

At the sound of his grating voice, Ivy yanked at the ropes, but the heavy cord chewed at the skin around her wrists. George moved to the edge of the bed beside her, slid a finger along her cheek, down her throat and to the top of the flimsy white gown he’d put on her.

Tears pricked her eyelids as she noticed her clothes on the floor and realized that he had undressed her. She felt bare, naked in the garment, especially with his eyes trailing over her.

How long had she been here? Hours. Hours in which he’d touched her…

“This gown is like the one your mother wore for me,” George said. “You know she was so beautiful. She taught me how to thoroughly love a woman.” His fingers dipped lower to graze Ivy’s nipple through the lacy weave.

“Please don’t….”

“Yes, Ivy. She liked entertaining men.” He smiled and moved his fingers to her other nipple. “She liked it when I did that. Liked for me to tease her. And she liked the money.”

“She wanted to take me away from Kudzu Hollow,” Ivy whispered. “That’s what she planned to do with the money.”

“Yes, and when I offered to buy the junkyard, she jumped at the chance.”

“So why did you kill her?” Ivy asked.

He had a crazed look in his eyes as he paused, contemplating how to answer.

“When I came to see her that night, she had another lover in her bed.”

“A.J.?”

He nodded, a muscle twitching in his jaw. “He was drunk, passed out in her bed, the asshole. I thought I was special. That she would leave your father and come with me.”

“You wanted my mother to marry you?” Ivy asked, shocked. “But she was older than you—”

“Not that much older.” He shrugged. “But she said I was too young. That she had plans for you. That she was leaving us all behind.” He reached up and flicked the lacy top of the gown open with one finger. “Then she said she didn’t want me, just wanted the money for the land.”

“And that’s why you killed her?” Ivy asked in horror.

“I tried to convince her she was wrong, that we were meant to be together, but she refused to listen. Then she laughed and told me to sign the papers for the deal and leave.”

Ivy’s head swam as the memories bombarded her. George and her mother had fought, bitterly.

“I’m taking my little girl away from this hellhole,” her mother shouted.

George grabbed her and they struggled. The kitchen knife lay on the table, and George picked it up and stabbed Lily in the back. Her mother’s cry of terror pierced the air. Ivy ran into the room and tried to wrestle the knife from him, but he knocked her down. She saw the blood, the beet-red color, and screamed, unable to move. Her mother was dead. Then George lurched at her with the knife.

She thought she was going to die, and she froze.

“You tried to kill me that night?” Ivy said in a haunted whisper.

“But I couldn’t.” His self-deprecating tone rumbled out, low and husky. “I looked at you, that little girl with the big green eyes, and I couldn’t do it. If I had…all these years I would have slept so much better.”

“You can’t kill me now, either, George. Don’t you see, the violence has to stop.”

“You’re not a little girl now, Ivy.” He twirled a strand of her hair around his finger. “And you know everything, so I can’t let you live. Just like I couldn’t let Nellie.”

“You…killed your own mother?” Cold terror trapped the air in Ivy’s lungs. “How could you?”

“She threw me away like I was nothing,” he wheezed. “And then in the end, she threatened to tell you everything. I warned her, just like I did you that night I killed Lily, that if you ever told anyone, I’d come back and finish you off.”

No wonder she’d suppressed the memory, Ivy realized. She’d been terrified he would make good on his threat.

“Then I left to hunt for your father at the junkyard so he would sign the papers,” he said in a rant. “But I couldn’t find him.”

Ivy put the pieces together in her mind. Her father had come home after George left, and found her mother dead. He’d blamed Ivy and chased her into the junkyard. She’d fallen and Matt had saved her.

Then George had seen her father in the graveyard and had killed him.

“That bastard refused to sign the papers for the land deal,” George continued bitterly. “He said the junkyard was his home, and he wouldn’t give it up. But he had to. Lily promised it to me. I earned the commission for the sale.”

“I don’t understand,” Ivy said, in an attempt to stall. She had to sway George from this madness. “The junkyard is still there.”

“I forged the papers,” he explained. “But the deed proved that there was more property than I’d originally thought. The developer I worked for only needed half the land, so he left the junkyard intact.”

George slowly turned back to her, a sadness and desperation flickering in the depths of his cold eyes that rocked Ivy to her core.

“All I wanted was for Lily to love me. And then…when my mother took you in, when I watched you grow up and saw that you looked like Lily, I wanted you, Ivy.” He finished untying the lacy top of the gown and trailed his fingers over the soft swell of her breasts. “You were just as beautiful as your mother, but you were innocent. So innocent.”

Ivy shuddered at his demented tone.

“I knew every date you had,” he continued. “And when you never got close to anyone, I knew you weren’t like your mother, that you would be faithful. I just had to convince you that we belonged together.” He flicked the edges of the gown open to reveal her breasts, then bent and licked a path down her ear, her neck, to her cleavage.

“We could have built a good life together,” he said in a low, heated voice. “If only you hadn’t insisted on coming back to Kudzu Hollow. If only you hadn’t started asking questions.”

“We can still have that life,” Ivy whispered. “Please just release me, George.”

His sharp laughter echoed through the dim room. “It’s too late, Ivy. You’re no better than Lily was in the end. You crawled into bed with Mahoney.” Anger hardened his voice. “And now I’m going to erase his touch, then finish what should have been done in that trailer fire.” He leaned closer, so close his rancid breath bathed her cheek. Slowly and deliberately, he pressed his lips over hers and whispered, “When you die, my face will be the one you see, the last man you’ll remember sliding inside of you.”

Then he began to sing in a whisper:

“One kiss, two kisses, three kisses,

Sigh.

Four kisses, five kisses, six kisses,

Cry.

Seven kisses, eight kisses, nine kisses,

Die.

One last kiss

and then goodbye.”

MATT’S BODY THROBBED with tension. “Let me borrow your computer for a second.”

A.J. frowned but gave him a clipped nod. Matt frantically logged on to the Internet and located the Web site for Ivy’s magazine,
Southern Scrapbooks.
When he’d first searched for her after being released from prison, he’d found the magazine and a photo of her online, as well as the cofounder of the magazine, George Riddon. The minutes ticked by now, every second adding to his frayed nerves as he waited for the picture to download. What if the man had Ivy? What if Matt was too late?

God, he’d never forgive himself if anything happened to her.

“Lady Bella Rue, look at this picture.”

The older woman leaned over his shoulder. “What am I looking for?”

“Could this man, George Riddon, be George Smith, Nellie Smith’s son?”

The bones in her cheeks protruded, leathery skin stretching over them as she frowned. “It’s been a long time, but…yes, I think it could be.”

“Christ.”

“What is it?” she rasped.

“That man works with Ivy. He…he invested in her magazine.”

A.J. peered at the screen. “Shit. I saw him in town a couple of nights ago at Red Row.”

Matt swallowed, his stomach churning. He glanced up at Boles, A.J. and Lady Bella Rue. “Where would he take her?”

“His mother used to have a cabin out past mine,” Lady Bella Rue said. “It’s pretty deserted.”

“Could you tell us how to get there?” Matt asked.

She nodded, and offered directions. A.J. jangled his keys. “Come on, Matt, I’ll drive.”

Matt stood and faced the federal agents. “We’ll take care of Boles,” Gentry said.

Agent Blackberry gestured to Kintrell. “And I’m going to question him further. He might know more than he’s told us.”

Right. Maybe they were wrong about George, and Matt was on a wild-goose chase. Maybe there had been a muscle man and he’d come after Ivy.

Matt and A.J. rushed out the door, tension thick as A.J. started the engine and raced toward the river. If he’d come forward sooner, and if his daddy hadn’t tried to cover up for him and had confessed about the illegal chemical dumping, lives might have been saved.

Dusk approached as they raced around the mountain. Matt clung desperately to the hope that Ivy was all right, but fear trapped him in its clutches. He could still see her tormented face when she’d run from him. The pain in her eyes, which he had caused.

Even if he did save her, she might not listen to him.

The shrill sound of the siren cut into the howling wind as they closed the distance to the cabin.

IVY STRUGGLED AND FOUGHT against the bindings, but there was no way she could rip them from the posts. Finally she closed her eyes, forcing herself to focus on something other than George’s vile touch as he moved his lips across her body and chanted the crude words about kissing her goodbye. Maybe if she tried hard enough she could block it all out. Just as she had years ago.