Saving Grace (Madison Falls) (31 page)

“Let’s see, where should we start?” He drew the blade across his chin. “Might as well start at the beginning.” Using the blade, he pointed toward the paper. “Start with ‘I’m sorry about what happened in San Francisco’.”

She jerked her head toward him. “What?”

He chuckled. “Trust me. Now, how should we say this? I know. ‘I need you to understand that I did it for love.’”

Her heart crashed against her chest. How did he know about San Francisco? “I can’t write that.”

He slammed on the brakes, hurdling her forward. The seatbelt kept her lower body in place, but couldn’t prevent the cymbal crash of her head to the dash. Stars danced all around as he grabbed her by the shoulder and shoved her back into her seat. The cold tip of the blade touched the hollow of her throat as he leaned into her. She let out a terrified yowl.

“Don’t you get it?” His voice dripped with an almost inhuman force that drenched her with sheer terror. “You made a huge mistake when you left me. You narrowed down your options.”

His eyes flared. She slid as far as she could to her right as the blade pressed deeper into her flesh, threatening to pierce it. She flailed, wanting to push away his hand but not daring to.

A nauseating smile tightened his lips. “Are you going to make this harder than it needs to be?”

Ultra-aware of the pointed metal that threatened to puncture her skin, she shook her head almost imperceptibly from side to side.

Looking pleased, he sat back, keeping the switchblade aimed carefully at her neck.

She let out her breath and reeled back, her elbow banging against the door. An electric jolt shot up her arm. Suddenly, her thinking turned crystal clear. This was her chance.

She watched as Kirk struggled to keep the blade honed on her while reaching awkwardly across his body for the gearshift. She had to act fast. Finding the seatbelt latch, she clicked it open and reached with her other hand for the cold metal of the door handle. Bracing herself, she gave it a yank and pushed her shoulder against the door.

It didn’t budge.

Joanie’s words rang in her head.
The passenger side door tends to stick.

Kirk’s laughter peeled through the small car as it jolted into motion. “Nice try.”

Tears of exhaustion pooled behind her eyes. Thrust back into her seat by the forward momentum of the vehicle, she redid her belt. What now?

“Pick that up!” He pointed the blade toward her feet, where the paper had come to rest when she’d slammed forward. She bent to retrieve it, along with the pencil.

“Where were we?” Kirk’s voice was cold, mechanical. “Read me what we’ve got.”

Her voice quavered. “‘I’m sorry about what happened in San Francisco. I need you to understand that I did it for love.’” Her heart pounded and she nearly choked on the words. Why was he making her do this?

“Good. Now.” the knife jabbed toward the paper. “‘I know what I did was wrong, but Kirk needed to be free of Julie.’”

Horror seized her. “You
knew
Julie?”

“Knew her?” He sneered. “I lived with her.”

An icy shudder passed through her.
Impossible
.

Her mind started to spin, the details of her first encounter with him blipping through her memory. A chance meeting at an opening night party, months after Julie’s death. They’d literally run into each other as she stepped away from the bar. Her drink splashed onto his lapel and they laughed about it. He seemed to know who she was, but had acted casual, just like any other opera donor.

She couldn’t stop shaking. “You knew? All along, you knew that I was the one who found her?”

“Of course I knew. Why do you think I wanted to meet you?”

Her breathing grew shallow.
Meet me?

He’d been equally friendly to everyone at the Met in those early months. Inviting them all to his cottage in Chappaquiddick. Hosting cocktail parties at lavish restaurants for the cast and crew. He hadn’t paid her any special attention, but he’d
known
. He’d known all along.

“Why didn’t you ever mention that you knew?”

A smile broke through the grimness of his features. “I didn’t want to make you jealous.”

Jealous?
Why would she have been jealous?

“Come on, Tracy.” A stomach-turning tenderness overtook him as he lifted the blade toward her face. Still clutching the weapon, he ran his index finger along her jawline. “You knew what you were doing. It was more than fate that brought us together.”

Us?
There was no ‘us’ as far as she was concerned. He was just a fan, nothing more. A crazy, maniacal fan.

Memories came at her in earnest now. How he’d started sending her notes that had grown progressively more intimate. Casual references to personal details of her life that she’d only revealed in emails and phone conversations with other people. Even changing her number and address hadn’t helped.

She’d done nothing to encourage his advances. When she’d told him tactfully that she wasn’t interested, he’d backed off for a time. Then the real nightmare began.

Threatening notes. Expensive champagne delivered to her dressing room with a box of chocolates that she’d given to her dresser. News the next day that the woman was in the hospital after having spent the night in the ER.

Grace’s clammy hands shook beyond control as she recalled Tristan, the tenor she’d dated for a short time, being mugged and beaten in a subway station.

Then it had been her turn.

She’d tried so hard to be careful, never to be alone in a vulnerable situation, but it hadn’t mattered. He’d grabbed her one night as she stepped out of her building, pressing a knife to her side and telling her not to scream. That was when he’d stabbed her in the alley next to her building, leaving her for dead.

That troubling thought raised a question. With as much force as she could muster, she blurted it out. “Why are you doing this? Why not just let me die in that fire?”

A lunatic smile crossed Kirk’s face. “You know me better than that, Tracy. I wouldn’t deprive myself of the satisfaction of knowing that the last sight you saw before taking your dying breath was my face.”

Disgust filled her being. What chance did she have against that kind of evil?

He stared at the road ahead as he continued his dictation. “‘Kirk needed to be free of Julie. She loved him so much, and there was just no option. Now, Kirk is ready to be free of me, and I need to let him move on. I’m sorry if this hurts anyone, but you’ll have to understand. There’s no other way.’” He glanced down at her scribbling hands. “Good. Now sign it.”

She let out a whimper, shutting her eyes tight. She couldn’t.

“Sign it!”

Letting the tears flow, she scrawled out her name, panicked thoughts reeling through her mind. All her time here in Madison Falls flashed before her like a social studies filmstrip. There had been no way for her to know that those would be her final days, but still…. Why hadn’t she appreciated them more?

Her mind touched on random memories, lingering on that morning she’d gone to church with Lucy and Bob. She’d felt good there. She wished she could be there now.

That young singer had said something that morning—what was it?
God is always with us
. If that was true, where was He right now?

“Besides,” Kirk pointed at the paper she held loosely between her fingers. “I wanted this. Just in case there’s ever any question about who killed Julie.”

She looked up, alertness suddenly kicking in. “
Who
killed Julie?”

A satisfied smile curled up his lips. “You really don’t know?” He chuckled in a low and menacing rumble. “I guess I’m better than I thought.”

Her eyes opened wide.
Kirk had killed Julie?
All this time she had known he was dangerous, but the realization that he had committed murder—committed
the
murder—filled her with renewed horror.

Something prodded at her to focus—to remember the words of that young man. She honed in her thoughts with laser-sharp clarity.

All we have to do is ask, Lord, and You’ll lead us.

That was it.
Ask.
She’d asked for help that awful night in the alley and she’d survived. Was that God?

With no time to debate or overanalyze, she lowered her head and centered her thinking.

Help me, God. Help me now. Please.

Her head snapped up. Without thinking, she reached over and grabbed the steering wheel, cranking it to the left as far as it would turn.

“Hey, what the…?” Clearly caught off his guard, Kirk released the wheel, as the car reeled out of control.

Grace held fast, and the vehicle spun like a top, veering off the road and careening down the embankment. An amazing calmness caressed her spirit as they hurdled downward. Down—she remembered without emotion—toward the river.

With a deafening
crack
, the car came to an abrupt halt, giving her a sickening re-enactment of her earlier encounter with the dashboard. This time though, there were no stars. Just an awareness of the stillness surrounding her.

Pulling herself upright, her attention turned instantly to Kirk. He was hunched forward in an unnaturally motionless pose, his head draped across the top of the steering wheel and his arms flung over the dash. She stared, adrenaline filling her like helium in a birthday balloon. Soon she noticed a glistening in the moonlight—a flow of thick, dark liquid streaming down the side of his face.
Blood.

The sound of rushing water caught her attention and she looked toward the windshield. The car sat at a severe angle, its front end considerably lower than its rear. A tall object directly in front of her blocked her view.
A tree
. She could barely make out what remained of the front end of her car, smashed against the evergreen like a soda can. She squinted. To her horror, the rushing river ran several yards below their stopping place, at the bottom of the abrupt drop-off on which they were perched.

The realization that the tree had saved her from making a rapid and decidedly
un
inspiring visit to the falls just a few miles downriver all but paralyzed her.

Hysteria seized her mind. She had to get out of the car. Turning hastily to free herself, she felt the car shift. She froze.

Slowly, warily, she reached for her seatbelt and pulled up the latch. She turned a careful head toward Kirk, certain that at any second he’d spring to life like the killer in a bad horror movie. Reaching behind her, she felt for the passenger door handle, hoping against hope that it would choose this moment to tend
not
to stick. No such luck. She let out an unintentional sob. The only way out of the car was the driver’s side.

Taking in a lungful of air that would have sustained her best money note, she pulled her feet up under her, then reached behind Kirk’s hunched form. Using extra care not to touch him, she carefully stretched one arm toward the door handle, bracing the other hand on the back of the seat. With all her strength, she pulled the latch as she gave the door a shove. It swung open, creating a terrifying momentum that pulled the car forward. Flailing and letting out a small cry, she inadvertently grabbed a hold of Kirk’s shoulder.

He moved, not of his own volition, but with the thrust of the car. Grace released her grasp of his shoulder, firming her grip on the edge of his seat until the car was once again still. She let out a long breath, folding further into her hunched position behind his unmoving form.

She prayed again.
Please just get me safely out of this car
. This was no time to lose control. She had to focus. She pulled her body fully behind Kirk, trying to make herself as small as possible, but rubbing against him nonetheless. No response. She tried not to notice that he didn’t appear to be breathing. Those thoughts could wait for later.

With all the care she could muster, she swung first one careful foot, then the other onto the steep spongy ground. The sound of rushing water reaffirmed her desire to get out of the car before it shifted further.

Pulling herself to a tenuous standing position, she held onto the side of the car until she was certain of her footing. Her breath wavered. She was out.

A glance back reassured her that Kirk hadn’t budged. There was no time to waste. She looked upward, unable to see the summit of the gully she was in. She had no concept of how far they’d fallen. Using her hands for added support, she pulled herself up the crisscross of tree limbs that swathed the earthen wall. She winced as the cold mossy ground both scraped and soothed her burned palm. She had to keep climbing.

Hoisting herself upward, she gasped for breath. Her arms ached, but adrenaline propelled her on, until at last she reached up and felt a ridge. She put her forehead to the earth for a moment, giving silent thanks.

Just as she pulled whatever energy she had in her together to hoist her body onto blessed level ground, someone grabbed her wrist from above. She gasped hard, tipping back her head. Her feet slipped out from under her and she started to fall, but the strong hands that now gripped both her arms held tightly enough to prevent it. A scream formed in her throat with no breath to support it.

“Grace!”

A deep voice pierced the night. Grace fought to get a toehold as she whimpered in recognition.

“I’ve got you. Hold on!” Sam firmed his grip, pulling her upward until one arm slid around her back. She felt her body go limp as he pulled her over the crest of the rock face.

Everything went black as he scooped her up and she wilted into his arms.

Chapter 40

“That’s some story.” Sam cast Grace a sympathetic look as he leaned his elbows on his knees. The metal chair creaked under his shifting weight, sending a reverberation through the otherwise quiet office. “Sorry it had to end the way it did.”

She tipped up a melancholy smile. “Tragic operas generally end with a death. Only it’s usually the diva who succumbs.”

He gave her a consoling wink. “Good thing we’re not in an opera.”