Quiet as the Grave (26 page)

“Yes.”

“You know they'll find your husband's body,” Suzie said. “Whatever sick scenario you've got in mind once we get down there, you'll still have to account for Phil lying up here in the library.”

“Not a problem,” Judy said in her businesswoman's voice. “Mike killed him here, to prevent exposure. Phil knew about the Mulligan Club, so of course Mike couldn't allow him to live. He'd already killed Keith and Richie to keep his secret, and Phil was just the next to go.”

“Just out of curiosity,” Mike said. “What exactly is my secret?”

“That you killed your wife, of course. You had found out about her dirty little sex club, and you killed her. Then, when you learned who the members were, and they threatened to reveal the secret, you had to eliminate them.”

“Oh. And Suzie?”

“She found out about you, too. Everyone knows she's been your lapdog for weeks here. But when she found out you had actually killed Justine, she was going to leave you. You couldn't have that, so—”

“So I eliminated her. Yes, I see the pattern. But aren't you worried about your reputation anymore, Judy? You'll have to bring all this out in the open, in order to construct your alibi. Won't that put a pretty big dent in the reputation, too?”

She smiled. “I'll be the heroine of the piece. I'll be the brave woman who caught the serial killer that even the police couldn't find.”

“Caught?” Suzie was frowning. “Caught, or
killed?
”

Judy didn't answer. “Move, Mike,” she said. “We're wasting too much time.”

He moved. Once he passed farther than the dim library light could reach, he was in total darkness. Luckily, there were no choices to make. Just a straight shot, touching the walls now and then to orient himself. They were just as cold and dank as the walls in the cave.

“You know, you're pretty arrogant yourself,” Suzie said. Mike wondered if she was talking so that he'd always understand where everyone was in relation to everyone else. She was smart, so that was possible. Of course, she was also a smart-ass, so it was possible she just couldn't help herself.

“Is that so?” Judy sounded a little winded. Mike was glad to hear it. “How do you come to that conclusion?”

“Well, clearly you think you're smarter than the police. Do you know how hard it is to cover up three—no, five—no,
six
—murders? Don't you watch cop shows on TV? The killer always makes some little mistake, and they nail him with it. Nobody can think of everything.”

“I don't have to think of everything. The police already suspect Mike. This will just confirm it. They won't look very hard for anything else.”

“Typical dumb-criminal hubris,” Suzie observed, unimpressed. “That's what they always say. They're still saying it on their way to the big house.”

In spite of everything, Mike smiled in the darkness. God, he loved that woman. She was the bravest, most annoying female on the face of the earth, and when they got out of here he was going to tell her so.

Suddenly the tunnel took a turn, and he knew they were almost there. The air changed subtly, and he could
smell the lake. He even sensed light coming in, but weakly.

“Turn left,” Judy said. She sounded as if she were about ten feet behind him. She was smart, too. She always stayed just out of harm's reach.

He turned left. He squeezed through a relatively narrow passage, and suddenly there they were. The sunlight was stronger today, and it penetrated farther. Even without a flashlight, he could almost make out the soot marks on the walls.

Suzie emerged stiffly, followed by Judy, who had hold of Suzie's upper arm. The gun was at her head.

Suzie looked at Mike and rolled her eyes. “Sorry,” she said. “I had planned to karate chop her, but I chickened out.”

“That's okay,” he said. “You're doing great.”

She scowled. “Don't patronize me, Frome. I know I'm having a failure of imagination here. If you can do better, feel free to jump right in.”

“Shut up,” Judy said. “I'm sorry to have to do this, Suzie. If I had any choice, I wouldn't. You're a gutsy girl.”

“I'm a bitch on wheels,” Suzie said crossly. “If you do this, I guarantee you I'm going to haunt you for the rest of your natural life.”

“I'm afraid I'm going to have to take that risk.”

Mike knew he was out of time. Judy didn't seem to have any more urge to explain herself, even. She seemed to be starting to get anxious and want it to be over.

Still he had to try. “Won't they think it's strange that I shot everyone with
your
gun?”

“It's your gun, Mike. At least that's what I'll tell them. It's untraceable. You killed Richie with it, and
you killed Phil…and finally I wrestled it away from you,” Judy said. She looked at the gun. He wondered if she might be having a little trouble pulling off these last, cold-blooded murders. “I really am sorry, Mike, but—”

He couldn't wait. He lunged. He heard a shot. And then, just as he reached Judy, the tunnel entrance exploded, and a body came flying at her from behind.

Instinctively, she looked over her shoulder and saw her husband. As if he'd been a demon or a true ghost, she screamed. The gun went off again.

The sound was deafening in the stone enclosure. Mike saw Suzie yell, but he couldn't hear it. Everything was chaos and echoing thunder.

When the struggle ended, Judy's body was under him, and Phil Stott was lying beside her, gasping, his one courageous burst of energy spent. Mike had no idea who was alive or dead—but he didn't feel any movement from the woman under him.

He looked around, trying to find Suzie.

Please
, he prayed.
Please
.

Finally he found her, just as the thunder subsided.

“She did it. That goddamn crazy woman really shot me.”

Suzie sat on the floor, her back against one of the cave walls, staring at her shoulder, which was bleeding at an alarming rate. She used her good arm to dig her cell phone out of her pocket.

“I'm calling the cops,” she said, as if she thought someone might try to argue her out of it. She angled her cell phone toward the entrance, searching for a signal. “And an ambulance. I'll be damned if I'm going to bleed to death in this stinking place.”

Mike scanned the floor. He saw the gun. It had
fallen a foot or two from Judy Stott's outstretched hand. He reached over and picked it up. He grabbed his own gun out of her pocket. Then he slowly released the woman on the floor.

She didn't move.

She might be dead, and frankly he didn't give a damn. He was much more worried about Phil. But when he felt for a pulse, he realized the man still had one.

“I'm going to take your belt, Phil,” he said gently. “You did great.”

Phil nodded weakly. He struggled to a half-sitting position. “I'll be okay,” he said. “Do what you have to do.”

When Mike rolled Judy over to tie her up, he saw that she was breathing, too, though unconscious. She must have knocked her head on the stones as she went down. But, unlike Justine, her head had been hard enough to withstand the crack.

He used Phil's belt to tie her hands, and his own to tie her feet. Even if she came to, she wouldn't be able get herself to a standing position on her own. He had no intention of helping her. The police could do it when they got here.

He went over to Suzie. “Can you walk?” He looked at her face for signs of shock. “I want to get a look at that shoulder. Can you get outside, do you think?”

“Yes, I can walk,” she said, snappishly. “She shot my shoulder, not my leg.”

He tilted a smile at her, and she sighed. “Sorry,” she said. She lifted her good arm to let him help her up. “That woman made me cranky.”

Laughing, he put his arm around her. He didn't care
if she didn't like the implication that she was weak. He just wanted to touch her.

As they neared the exit, Judy seemed to regain consciousness. She struggled on the floor a few seconds, and then, realizing she was overcome, she began to cry.

“Oh, shut up,” Suzie said. She looked at Mike. “I'm sorry, but she said that to me, you know. More than once.”

“I know,” he said. “Feel free.”

He took her out into the sunlight. They both blinked owlishly. And then they looked at each other and smiled.

He checked her wound, which, thank God, seemed to be superficial. It had already stopped bleeding quite so much. Still, he'd be glad when the ambulance arrived. He couldn't risk losing her now.

“Suzie,” he said. “I love you.”

Amazingly, she blushed. He couldn't believe it. After all she'd just witnessed without flinching, this was what made her blush?

“I love you,” he said again. “Get used to it. I'm going to be telling you that every day for the rest of your life.”

“Oh, yeah?” She screwed up her mouth and glared at him. “Well, why exactly do you think I'm going to listen?”

“Because you love me, too.” He brushed her tangled hair from her cheek. “And it might be nice if you told me at least once a day, as well. Starting today. Starting right now.”

“Hrmph,” she said, screwing up her mouth thoughtfully. “Maybe, but before I agreed to say anything of the sort, I'd need a promise from you.”

Anything, he thought, his heart so full of relief and joy that he was afraid it might lift him off the ground.
A picnic on the moon, a basket full of stars. A diamond ring, a house full of children, a happily-ever-after that he hadn't used to think existed on this earth.

“What? Tell me what to promise, and I'll do it.”

She put out one finger sternly. “Remember how you used to call me Suzie-freaka?”

He nodded.

“And Fang?”

He nodded.

“And weirdo?”

“Yes. I was a fool. I'm sorry. I'll never do it again.”

“Damn right you won't,” she said. “I've had a look at your friends and neighbors, buddy, and believe you me,
I
am not the freak.”

“No, indeed you're not.” He put his finger under her chin. “So it's a promise. And…”

Her eyes had begun to sparkle. “And what?”

“And you…”

“Oh, yeah.” She smiled. “And I'm pretty sure I love you.”

S
PRING IN
F
IREFLY
G
LEN
was like getting a sneak preview of Heaven.

Everything was sweet green, with masses of flowers adding paintbrush touches of pink and white and yellow. The sky was Easter-egg blue, with cottontail clouds, and the sun poured like warm honey over the whole amazing thing.

Suzie wondered why she'd never appreciated this season before. She'd lived here for eighteen years. But maybe, she thought, you had to catch a little glimpse of Hell before you truly understood Heaven.

At any rate, she appreciated it now. Only two weeks after the showdown in the Mulligan Club, she'd returned to Firefly Glen for the June Spoon, an event that used to make her gag, but which was one more thing that suddenly made sense.

Firefly Glen was big on festivals. People as happy as the lucky two thousand or so Glenners apparently just had to celebrate everything.

In June they celebrated Love.

For one weekend, all the stores were decorated with hearts and flowers. The town square had cupids hanging from the gazebo, and pink-and-white barbershop stripes on the frames of the swing sets. Starry-eyed couples from three counties chose that weekend
to get married here, so the air was always ringing with church bells.

The Season Houses, the Glen's four premiere mansions, were all thrown open for tours. And at night, bands played love songs in the band shell, surrounded with fluffy spring trees sparkling with little pink lights. Everyone danced until their slippers—or their willpower—wore thin. Natalie and Matthew Quinn, who were infamous for being unable to keep their hands off each other, never lasted more than an hour or so.

And Saturday morning, Firefly Glen Elementary School always put on a play. This year the theme was “What's Love Got To Do With It?”

Apparently it was supposed to explore the great romances of all time, and how they had shaped history. Gavin had asked Suzie to come. The word was he was going to be King Arthur, which he thought was very cool. “I lose the girl to Lancelot, but that's okay, because he's a dork and he can't hit the broad side of a barn.”

It had taken her a minute to figure that one out, and then she realized it meant the other kid was a crummy baseball player. Gavin was his father's son, all right, she thought, laughing to herself, and promised him she'd be there.

But now that she had arrived, she felt weirdly self-conscious. She hadn't seen Mike for two weeks. At first, after the police arrived, it had been all statements and paperwork, and interviews…and more hell.

After that, she knew he needed to get home to Gavin right away. She knew that, for a while, he'd have to concentrate on reassuring the little boy that everything would be fine from now on.

She told Mike to take all the time he needed. Then, when he was ready, he could call her, and they would talk.

Since then, she'd been painting furiously, trying to pass the time. She'd taken a commission to paint a group portrait of three pretty little sisters.

The portrait was a huge success. It almost made her mad to discover that she'd actually become a better artist during her crazy hiatus. This new portrait had more depth, more humanity, more…reality. The parents were thrilled, and said they couldn't wait to recommend her to their friends.

What had changed inside her? What had she brought to her work?

Was it the Hell—or the Heaven?

Or perhaps, the new awareness of both.

She drove up to the Frome house early Saturday morning and parked the car out front. She'd promised Gavin she'd come here first, and ride with them to the school.

But darn, it was awkward. Mike hadn't ever officially made that call, telling her it was time to discuss their future—if indeed they had one. She wondered whether this invitation from Gavin was really from the both of them. She hoped so, but she couldn't be sure.

She sat there a minute, trying to get up the nerve to go in.

And then there he was, standing next to her car window, smiling, looking so gorgeous she thought she might have fainted if she hadn't absolutely hated women who faint.

She rolled down the window and tried to look relaxed.

“Hi, there,” he said. His smile caught the morning
sunlight and sparkled like a toothpaste commercial. The warm breeze ruffled his hair.

The tension was gone from his handsome face. This setting, this idyllic little mountain town, had always suited him. He glowed here.

“Hi, yourself,” she said.

“It's good to see you.”

This was dumb. She pulled on the handle and got out of the car.

“I came early,” she said, “because I brought you a present.”

“Oh, yeah?” He looked happy. He didn't look nervous about anything. “What?”

She opened the backseat. She'd put the painting there, wrapped in brown paper and tied with string. It was a little big, and the frame was heavy. Her right arm was still weak, so she tried to maneuver it out with only her left.

“Hey,” he said. “Let me help.”

She backed out and let him extricate it. He gave her a curious smile, and then laid the painting on the hood of the car. “Can I open it now?”

He looked like a little boy at Christmas. He looked like Gavin. She nodded, not trusting her voice.

He unknotted the string, then peeled open the paper carefully. She held her breath.

He didn't say anything for a long moment. She looked over his shoulder, terrified that she might have gotten something wrong.

It was his house, his dream house, the one he had described to her at the lake that night. She didn't usually do landscapes, but she had been so pleased with the way this had come out. She had been so sure she'd got the details right, down to the climbing, twining white roses.

The green, leafy hills around the house were clearly Firefly Glen.

That had been a risk. He'd never said that the house was in the Glen, but somehow she couldn't picture it anywhere else.

He belonged here.

“Damn it, say something,” she said. “I told you I needed details. If I got anything wrong, it's probably because you didn't describe it right.”

He turned and caught her in his arms. “It's perfect,” he said. His voice was throaty, and not completely steady. She paused in her tirade, and looked into his eyes. They were shining.

“Oh,” she said. “Well, good. I—” She swallowed. “I wanted you to like it.”

“I love it,” he said. “I knew you'd really seen it.”

She nodded. “It's a beautiful house, Mike. You should build it. Honestly, you should. Gavin deserves to live in a house like that. He could be so happy there.”

He held her very close. “And you,” he said. “Could you be happy there?”

She felt her heart start doing the June Spoon, without music, without pink lights, without anything but the feel of Mike Frome's arms around her.

“What exactly are you saying?”

“I'm saying I love you. I'm saying I want to marry you. I'm saying I want us to build that house and live in it, happily ever after.”

She tried to speak, but there was something big and annoying sticking in her throat. She looked up at him, very much afraid that there were tears in her eyes.

“Dad! Dad!” Gavin came barreling out of the house, with another little boy behind him. He stopped and grinned. “Suzie! You made it!”

Suzie pulled herself free of Mike's arms, brushed at her eyes and reached down to give Gavin a hug.

“Of course I made it,” she said. “Do you think I'd miss your play?”

“Naw.” Gavin grinned. He pointed to his friend. “This is Boomer. He's Lancelot.”

She held out her hand. “Hi, Boomer. I hear you can't hit the—”

Gavin shook her arm. “
Suzie!
”

She grinned back at him. “I heard he can't hit the high note in that Camelot song. I'll bet you can't, either.”

“I sure can't,” Gavin said without rancor. “Ask Dad. I'm so bad at singing dad said I should just lip-synch ‘The Star Spangled Banner' in the mornings at school.”

Suzie looked at Mike. He had the painting in his hand, and he had come over to stand beside her.

“Gavin,” he said. “Suzie has something to tell you.”

She frowned. “I do?”

“Yes. She's got some really great news.” He nudged her playfully. “Tell him, Suzie. Go ahead.”

She narrowed her eyes. “What?”

“Go on. Say it.
I
…”

Oh…

She rolled her eyes. “You're incorrigible,” she said.

“No,” he responded with a grin. “That would be you. But come on, the kid's waiting. Say it.
I
…”

She looked at Gavin, who was smiling quizzically, obviously thinking the grown-ups were nuts.

“Umm,” she said. She cleared her throat. “I…”

Mike nodded. “That's right.
I lo…lo
…”

“I—l…” She sighed. “I love your dad.”

Gavin whooped with pleasure. “Cool!” he said. He
and his friend Boomer bumped chests. “I told you, Boomer,” he said. “Way to go, Dad.”

“Why, thank you, son,” Mike said humbly. “Now if you guys would kindly get lost, I've got something I'd like to say to Suzie.”

The boys ran off, giggling. Suzie turned to Mike with her scowl firmly in place.

“Well?” She put her hands on her hips. “What do you have to say to me? After you put me on the spot like that, this had better be good.”

“Oh, no, sweetheart,” he said, pulling her up against him once more. “This is going to be
great
.”