Trust Me (42 page)

"Things got out of control, I admit. But...but Bishop didn't end up hurting her, so...so it doesn't matter. She's fine. Let it go."

In a way, David wished he could. But a man had been killed as a result of Lynnette's actions. Skye could've been killed. "You need to confess 265

and get some help. If you cooperate, it'll go easier on you," he said gently.

Who would've thought he'd be having this conversation with his ex-wife?

"I'll do everything I can."

Her mouth sagged open. "You mean it," she whispered. "You're going to turn me in, knowing I'm sick, knowing I couldn't help it."

"You could've helped it." Kneeling, he pulled Jeremy into his arms and gave his son a tight squeeze. "Don't worry about anything," he told him.

"You'll live with me until your mom can come home, okay? Everyone'll be fine."

Jeremy's eyes moved uncertainly between them. "How long will Mommy be gone?"

"I don't know yet."

"Then you'll have it all, won't you!" Lynnette shouted. "You'll have my son and the whore you've wanted all along!" Darting back into the house, she slammed and locked the door.

David frowned as he stood there. He had a key, but he wasn't about to chase Lynnette and force her into his car in front of Jeremy. He refused to put his son through that kind of trauma.

He needed to take Jeremy away and have someone from the station get over here, in case she tried to harm herself.

Taking his phone from his pocket, he called Tiny.

Jane needed a cigarette. She'd smoked her last around 4:00 a.m. as she sat staring out the filthy motel window. She should've bought a pack at the grocery store last night or on her way home, but she hadn't dared spend the five bucks. Now she had nicotine withdrawal to cope with--as well as the anxiety of returning to a house she'd ransacked looking for proof that her husband was a killer.

"Stay in the car," she told Kate as she parked in the driveway. Because the truck was there, she assumed Oliver was home, and she didn't want her daughter to witness their first encounter. She had no idea how her husband might react. She'd never seen him really angry--he usually became sullen and withdrew until he'd worked through whatever it was--but they'd never been this estranged.

Kate's hand was already on the door handle. "Why? I want to change my clothes and brush my teeth. It's Saturday. I get to play with Lara."

Lara was the girl down the street.

In the rearview mirror, Jane spotted the damage she'd done to her neighbor's car and felt even more foolish. What had she been thinking yesterday? She'd just.. .freaked out. All because she didn't enjoy her first sexual encounter with Oliver since prison. But now she was at least halfway 266

convinced it was her own fault for being so unreceptive to him.

"I just need to talk to Daddy for a minute. Then I'll come and get you."

Kate pouted, but she let go of the handle and slumped back against the seat. "Hurry up, Mommy."

"I will." Swallowing hard, Jane got out. She was hoping the neighbor whose car she'd hit wouldn't spot her until she'd talked to Oliver; when no one came rushing across the street, she felt slightly heartened.

Taking a deep breath, she approached the door.

It was locked.

Removing the house key from her purse, she let herself in. Then she stood staring at the mess. It was worse than the way she'd left it. Oliver had dumped everything out of their suitcase and strewn their clothes all over the living room. Their family picture was broken and lying on the floor.

Someone had smashed the kitchen window, leaving glass glittering on the linoleum. A dining chair lay turned on its side.

Obviously, he'd reacted violently to what had happened last night.

Feeling even guiltier, Jane made her way silently toward the bedroom.

He must care about her if leaving him had upset him this much. Surely, she could rekindle the feelings she'd once had so they could start anew. Even if Noah or his parents had told Oliver about the affair, she'd apologize the way Oliver had once apologized to her--after the incident with Skye. They'd put it all behind them. She wouldn't be able to see Noah for a long time. She knew that what he'd done would hurt for years. But she had Kate to think about. And the future. She had to begin moving in a positive direction.

The door was closed. Expecting to find Oliver asleep, she turned the handle and swung the door wide.

Oliver was in bed. He had the blinds drawn and the blankets pulled up over his head.

Stepping closer, Jane murmured his name. "Oliver? Oliver, it's me.

I'm sorry." When he didn't move, she raised her voice. "Oliver?"

Again, there was no response, so she pulled back the covers--and felt her stomach lurch. It wasn't her husband in the bed. It was Noah.

And he was dead.

267

Chapter
24

Oliver watched Jane through the crack in the closet door. The handle of the knife was growing sticky and unpleasant as Noah's blood began to dry. He didn't like the sensation. He longed to wash up and scrub his nails, but he couldn't move. Couldn't reveal himself to Jane--yet. He'd never killed in the light of day before, had never had this much time. Except for thinking about how this would affect his parents and Wendy, the whole thing had been far too easy and.. .rather anticlimactic.

Until he'd heard Jane's keys in the front door.

Would she fawn over her lover? Cry?

Closing one eye, he leaned a little closer to the opening. There she was, chalk-white, ready to faint.

Oliver couldn't help smiling as he contemplated the surprise he had waiting for her....

Jane didn't know what to do, whom to call. She was breaking into a cold sweat, hyperventilating.

Backing away from the bed, she closed her eyes and turned her face to the wall, but the image was imprinted on her brain. Noah... He must have confessed to Oliver, and Oliver had done this.

But how?

Creeping back to the bed, she used her forefinger and thumb like pincers to peel away the covers she'd dropped a moment before. She didn't want to encounter Noah's blood. She was afraid it'd still feel warm. This couldn't have happened long ago. It looked, even smelled, fresh.

Noah was lying on his side, facing her. How Oliver had gotten him into the bed was a mystery, since Noah was so much larger, but his position wasn't natural. Oliver must've lured him to the bedroom and stabbed him when he wasn't expecting it. Leaning forward, Jane could see the holes in Noah's back, evidence of fifteen or twenty vicious thrusts. As if Oliver had always hated his brother...

She stood there shaking for several seconds, then told herself to find the knife. She knew from the trial that the weapon was important. But she couldn't look. She was beginning to retch. At first it was just dry heaves, but 268

soon the bile rising in her throat emptied onto the carpet.

Oliver had murdered Noah. The same way he'd murdered the women along the American River. Detective Willis had told her about those women.

They'd been raped before they were murdered, and they'd had their throats cut instead of being stabbed in the back. But they, too, were dead by Oliver's hand.

The violence--the truth--made her ill.

"Mom? What happened in here?"

Kate's voice drifted to her from the front room. She'd gotten out of the car, discovered the mess.

Staggering to the wall, where she paused to brace herself, Jane gulped in some air and fought down her body's convulsive reaction. She didn't want her daughter to see what had occurred in the bedroom, didn't want Kate to know just how brutal her father could be.

"St-stay right where you are, Kate." Her wispy voice betrayed the weakness she felt in every muscle, every joint, but she made herself leave the room and start down the hall. "I'm coming."

"Where's Daddy? Is Daddy okay?"

"He's...fine." Jane stumbled as she reached the end of the hall and had to pause again for breath. A rubbery sensation made her legs difficult to control, even though her mind was screaming at her body to take immediate action. She couldn't even think straight. A jumbled mix of memories and fragments paraded through her mind: Noah telling her he loved her, Oliver's phone calls from prison, her standing in Oliver's room at the hospital, talking with Detective Willis at the salon, watching Skye on television calling for tougher laws against violent offenders, seeing blood in the bed she'd shared with the man who was now dead and the man who'd killed him...

"Mommy?" Kate hurried toward her. "Are you sick?"

"I'm okay." She managed a tremulous smile, grateful for the slight support her daughter gave her when Kate slipped those skinny arms around her waist.

"Where's Daddy?"

"He's gone." Or at least the man they knew was gone. Maybe he'd never existed to begin with; maybe he'd been just a reflection of what they'd wanted him to be. The real Oliver Burke hid inside the friendly, mild-mannered shell that had fooled almost everyone, that had fooled her for years.

Kate looked confused. "But his truck's here."

"He must've taken Noah's car." The mention of Noah's name conjured up the image Jane had just seen in the bedroom and threatened to make her 269

retch again. Swallowing hard, she squeezed her eyes shut and kissed her daughter's forehead, focusing on the fact that Kate was alive and well. "We have to go." Before your father comes back....

"But we just got home! I want to play with Lara!"

The confusion and fear in Kate's eyes helped Jane pull herself together. She knew she hadn't been the best mother in the world. Since Kate was two, she'd been consumed by her own misery and the constant struggle to get through each day. But she was going to shield Kate from this if she could.

"Your uncle Noah's had an accident. We have to get some help."

"Let her go to Lara's. I think she'll have a much better time over there, don't you?"

Oliver. The hair on the back of Jane's neck stood up as she sensed her husband behind her. Releasing Kate, she stiffened and stepped back a little to put some space between him and their daughter. She was terrified she'd feel the point of the blade he'd used on Noah, but she was even more terrified he'd try to use that knife on Kate. Kate mustn't catch so much as a glimpse of it. No one was sacred to him. Jane understood that now.

"Daddy, you're here?" Kate tilted her head back and smiled up at him, and the sight twisted Jane's heart. Please, God, not her. Maybe I deserve it, but she doesn't.

"Of course I'm here, baby." He put a hand on Jane's waist to hold her where she was. Jane was pretty sure his other hand held the knife.

"Everything's fine," he told her. "I'll get the help Uncle Noah needs and Mom can start cleaning up, okay? You run along and play."

Kate seemed to realize something was off. "Where's Uncle Noah's car?"

"I picked him up. I'll be taking him home later."

A flicker of confusion entered Kate's gray eyes, but Jane spoke before her daughter could ask to see her uncle. "Go on now. If you don't, it'll be too late. And when you're done, call your grandma to pick you up."

"Won't you be home?"

"I've gotta work," she lied.

Presented with the opportunity she'd been angling for since she woke up, Kate hesitated only another moment. Then her round face broke into a smile, and she skipped out of the house. "Bye!" she called just before the door slammed.

"Goodbye," Jane whispered. Then Oliver's arm slid around her waist and he pulled her against him.

"You're getting old and fat, you know that, Jane?" he breathed into her 270

ear. "Old and fat has never been very appealing."

She closed her eyes. What did it matter if she was old and fat? It was over. She'd married a man who'd destroyed her from the inside out--and now he was going to finish the job.

"And you stink," he added. "I hate the smell of cigarettes."

She ignored the spiteful jab. "Why?" she whispered.

"Why am I going to kill you?"

"Why did you marry me in the first place?" It certainly wasn't because he'd loved her. She didn't think Oliver had been capable of love even back then. The only person he'd ever cared about was himself.

"After finding out what you've been doing with Noah behind my back, I've been wondering that myself," he said. "He's waiting for you right now, you know. In the bedroom. He wants to fool around, only this time I'm going to watch. No more making me the stooge. No more lies. Let's see how badly you want him now, huh, Jane? Let's see him get it up for you."

Jane shuddered at the thought of returning to that grisly scene.

"Oliver, no," she whimpered. "You won't get away with this. You know that, don't you? Detective Willis will come after you. He'll send you back to prison."

"Don't worry, Jane. I've got a plan. I've always got a plan."

"It doesn't matter."

"Yes, it does. If you fail to plan, you plan to fail." He lifted a hand to squeeze her breast--hard, the way he had when he'd tied her up. "I'll be gone before Detective Willis even knows you're dead. And Kate will be with me."

He had blood on his hands. Jane's blood.

Oliver used the brush he kept under the bathroom sink to scrub his knuckles and fingertips, but they wouldn't come clean. Every time he turned off the water and reached for a towel, he'd spot more red under this nail or that, on his neck, on his arms.

He checked the mirror. See? It was in his hair. When he stabbed her, blood had sprayed all over him.

He shuddered, wanting it off as soon as possible. Jane's death had been ugly, not quick and efficient like the others. Not thrilling, like when he'd punished that bully who'd harassed him in school. She'd fought like a she-devil, had even almost overpowered him at one point. He hadn't expected that.

Shaking from the residual panic, he remembered the power of her grip as she'd grabbed his hand and nearly turned the knife on him. Before that, she'd been crying out for Willis and Skye, as if they cared about her, as if they'd save her. Then, suddenly, a hard gleam had come into her eyes and 271