The Numbers Killer Page 21

  She and Danny hadn’t talked much during the long drive to Virginia. Danny said he was tired. He slept most of the way while Beth drove. They checked into the Sonesta Hotel long after sundown. He went to the front desk to check them in, since they were using Thomas somebody or other’s credit card. Once they had their keys, they drove the car around to one of the side doors and went in with their stuff. There was nothing special about the hotel, but their room was clean, with windows offering a view of the woods. Beth gazed out. In the varied degrees of blackness and shadow, it was nice enough, but barely.

  Danny yanked the curtains closed. He stepped on the back of his shoes to pull them off and tossed them into the center of the room. He plopped himself back on the bed like he wasn’t going anywhere for a while. “Damn!” He lifted his head off the pillow, his voice taking on the edge of irritation she knew so well. “I forgot somethin’.”

  “What is it?” Beth picked up his shoes and lined them up side by side in the closet. “Maybe it’s something we can buy here.”

  “No. Nothin’ from home. I left my gun in the car. I can’t leave it there, in case someone breaks in.” He didn’t make a move to get up. Beth knew what was coming. “Go get it, will ya? Bring it inside.”

  She had been about to open his suitcase and put away his clothes but stopped. For the vacation to be any fun, she had to make sure Danny stayed happy and didn’t run out of beer, but also didn’t drink too many at once. She picked up the car keys he’d tossed onto the desk. “Sure. I’ll be right back.”

  “Wait. Throw me a beer before you go.”

  She opened the cooler they brought from home, got the beer, and handed it to him. “Here you go, hon. And I’ll be right back.” She smiled suggestively, but Danny hadn’t taken his eyes from the television, except to open the beer. Leaning down, she kissed him gently on the edge of his mouth, just a fleeting kiss where the scar on his cheek met his lips, her hand resting on his chest.

  Dutifully, she left the room carrying her purse, so she had a place to conceal his gun. She didn’t know why he had the gun, or what it was used for, but he’d always had one. She went through the empty lobby and out across the dim parking lot. Opening the driver’s side door, she glanced around. Seeing no one close by, no one paying attention to her, she scooped the gun out from under the front seat.

  A couple holding hands walked toward the front entrance and a man stood just inside the automatic doors. She was wary of carrying the gun. Danny didn’t have a permit for it and neither did she. She didn’t want to get in trouble for something so insignificant, didn’t want to take any additional risks that might ruin their vacation and the surprise he had lined up. Despite all the illegal activities she’d participated in, above all, she was terrified of going to jail.

  Making a split-second decision, she walked around the side of the hotel toward the woods, shivering in the cold. She used her key card to open the back door, where no one would see her. The entryway was dark and smelled slightly of ammonia. On the other side of the stairwell, someone she couldn’t see was having a one-sided conversation. She stopped to make sure her purse was zipped shut.

  There was something familiar about the voice coming from around the corner. The deep gravelly sound reminded her of Danny, but the tone was off. Too accommodating, too charming, and there was soft laughter.

  “I miss you too, kitten.”

  Beth’s skin turned clammy. A feverish chill raked through her body and settled in her bones. The voice was too much like her husband’s to belong to anyone else. But who was he talking to? Who was he calling ‘kitten’? She stood still, holding her breath.

  “She went out, but I’m in the stairwell because she’ll be back in a minute.” Danny spoke in the coaxing voice he used when he wanted something he couldn’t get with force. “Don’t get all panicked on me, now. It’s gonna work out. Just trust me. Do what I say. And remember, I was with you all weekend working on the plans for remodeling the inside, we went to the—” Beth flattened herself against the side of the staircase and craned to hear him, she missed a few words because he was practically whispering.

  “There’ll be no trace that I was ever with her here. No video cameras. That’s why I picked this dump. So stick with the plan.”

  Beth clenched her hands into tight fists. A terrible sickness threatened to rise out of her throat and spill onto the floor.

  “Use my credit card tonight at a drive-through and a few times tomorrow, but make it all seem business related, during the day, nothing too private. You know what I mean? And nowhere with video cameras. Got it?”

  There was silence and then Danny laughed.

  “After she’s gone, just a few months more, and then we can do whatever we want. One million dollars buys a lot of everything, baby.”

  Another pause. Another deep, soft laugh. “Wish me luck. Love you, gorgeous.”

  An icy current snaked through Beth’s chest at the same time she felt like she’d been slapped hard, knocked off balance. The scraping of shoes on the concrete told her he was coming closer. She froze, fear and anger forming a tight ball in her throat, choking her.

  Just a few steps away, he switched direction and walked up the stairs. At the top, a door opened and closed.

  She waited another minute, trembling, her mind racing, her stomach rolling with nausea. She swallowed hard. She slapped her cheek, hoping to wake up from a horrible, ultra-realistic nightmare. Surely, she had misunderstood. It couldn’t be what it sounded like. It couldn’t, because if it did, that would mean . . . Oh, God! It meant she was a pathetic, misguided fool. She had no one. She had nothing. Her whole life was worthless.

  She crept up the stairs, the last three years of her life flashing through her mind in sharp snippets, the best and the worst of it all: meeting Danny at her sister’s wedding, his proposal the following Valentine’s day, the first time he’d slapped her when they were on their honeymoon.

  Slowly she opened the door to room 234, afraid her face would give her away. How could she possibly hide her hurt and shock? She stuffed her hands in her pockets to keep them from trembling.

  Danny was stretched out on the bed again, head propped on all the pillows – having left none for her—watching a game on television. He glanced at Beth—as if she was an annoying mosquito who buzzed inside when the door was open—then back to the screen. In that brief instant, she saw the coldness in his dark eyes, darker than usual. Her heart ached. How could she have been so stupid? Mini vacation? So close to hitting the jackpot with his business venture? She shuddered. She had trusted a cheater, a man who would rather she was dead than alive. She finally averted her gaze from him, feeling painfully alone, more alone than she had ever felt before.

  In the wall mirror, she caught her reflection, ashen skin and worried eyes. She wiped at the tears spilling down her cheeks. Her gaze dropped to her suitcase. A new sick feeling of shame and stupidity arose inside her like a sudden wave of violent illness. Inside was the present she had bought him, her own surprise. A power station charger and Wi-Fi hotspot he could use when traveling. Something he said he needed.

  “Did you get my gun?” he grunted.

  “Yes. I’ll just keep it in my purse.” Trembling inside, she sat down at the tiny desk, grateful it was positioned in a hideaway around the corner, away from Danny’s line of view. She shoved off one shoe and then the other.

  “What took you so long?”

  “I um, I got something from the vending machine.” Her voice came out thin and weak. She reached for her laptop.

  “What are you doing now?” The volume on the television increased.

  “Nothing.” She opened her computer and powered it on.

  “Nothing?”

  “I’m uh—I’m checking a site with things to do in the area.”

  “We’re going to hike to the top of the waterfall. Rain or shine.”

  “Uh, huh.” She typed furiously.

  “I can barely hear this show. You’re making too much n
oise.”

  “Sorry. I’ll be more quiet.”

  Quickly, as if her time was running out, which apparently it was, she logged into their checking account expenses and searched through the charges. She hoped and prayed for some sort of mistake, some crazy misunderstanding. Danny snored loudly on the bed, sounding like a fat and congested hog.

  Most of the recurring payments belonged to Danny. A video game subscription, a music subscription, the internet, and cable. Only one monthly payment stood out as something she didn’t recognize. It went back several years, starting a few months after their marriage. She traced the payment to an insurance company, didn’t even have to hack into their system because dumb-ass Danny used the same login and password—baddanny1—for everything. She entered his email and password. There it was—the insurance policy she didn’t know they owned. One million dollars to be paid to Daniel Dellinger in the event of Beth Dellinger’s death.

  Scenarios flashed through her mind, each more terrible than the next. How did he plan to do it? Push her off the waterfall when she was admiring the view? Or shoot her first and then push her? Was that the big surprise? Because if she hadn’t overheard him downstairs, then yeah, it would have been the mother of all surprises.

  Staring at the screen, the cold, hard pang of her sadness wrestled with the hot fury of her rage. How could he do this to me?! How could he?! Then came more anger, directed at herself. How could I have been so stupid and unsuspecting? How could I have almost let this happen? Part of her perched on the brink of exploding, part of her threatened to crumble and break like old brittle bones. Confront him? Or run?

  One overriding urge emerged through her tumultuous, warring emotions—the fierce need to survive. He was not going to kill her. She was not going to die.

  She pulled her pocket book closer to her side. The hard muzzle of the gun pressed through the material and against her hip. She opened a new browser and typed: how to shoot a revolver. She read the first set of instructions and clicked on another. How hard could it be?

  “You’re acting strange, Beth.”

  He’d gotten off the bed and snuck up behind her. She slammed her laptop closed and jumped sideways in her seat. “What? No, I’m not.”

  “What’s going on?” Hovering over her shoulder, his hot, beer breath warmed her neck. “What are you doing?”

  “Nothing.” She wrapped her arms around her chest instinctively. “I wasn’t doing anything.”

  He eyed her with an intensity she now recognized as hatred. “I’ll be the judge of that.” He pushed her out of the way and grabbed for her computer. He lifted the top. The screen flashed to life and he clicked on the tabs she hadn’t closed.

  Clutching her purse, she made a dash for the door and ran out. Tears stung her eyes. She flew barefoot down the back stairwell, taking them two at a time, without looking back over her shoulder. Yanking the hallway door open, she ran through the corridor and straight into the hotel lobby, gasping for breath. She stopped for a second, eyes darting from the exit to the front desk. The office door swung shut on the backside of a man in a cheap black suit. There was no one else in sight. Jumbled thoughts raced through her mind. She could scream for help. Surely the employee, or someone, would come out and help her, or call the police. But what good would it do? If Danny didn’t kill her tonight, he’d be even angrier after a run in with the cops. What proof did she have that he was going to kill her? “Kitten” wasn’t going to back up Beth’s story. And even if she did, Danny wouldn’t be the only one taken to jail. Identity theft carried a longer sentence than domestic abuse. Danny would see to it that Beth would pay for their crimes. She could count on that.

  Decision made, she kept her mouth closed and sprinted down the hall to the back of the hotel. Had she made a conscious decision to run to the woods behind the hotel? She didn’t know then and she didn’t know now. The will to survive superseded all else. She flung open the back door, barely even registering the man who stood aside to let her pass and the attractive woman with dark hair who hurriedly leapt out of her way.

  Danny breathed heavily behind her. “Come back here! You don’t understand. What you saw—the insurance thing—it’s not what you think.”

  She ran. Her violent entrance into the woods was echoed by branches cracking and snapping close behind her.

  “Stop! Come back here!” Danny yelled.

  An approaching train barreled down the tracks like it was coming right at them.

  He wanted her dead.

  He would kill her.

  But not if she killed him first.

  She yanked the gun from her bag and flicked off the safety. She cocked the trigger. She aimed. She fired.

  The incessant barking and growling of the two littlest dogs snapped Beth back to reality. Her hands were shaking so hard it looked like the gun was vibrating. Danny is dead. I killed Danny. I killed my husband. A muscle below her eye began to spasm.

  “We don’t want to hurt you, but I’m counting to three and if you don’t put the gun down, you leave me no choice. One.”

  Agent Heslin let the odd number hang in the air, as if she knew what it would do to Beth.

  Danny laughed again, a cruel, mocking sound. “You got yourself in a real doozy now, dumb ass. How are you getting out of this one? Can’t wait to see how this works out for you.”

  “How could you? How could you do that to me?” She screamed, and the gun jerked up and down in her hand.

  “Two.”

  “Guess you’re going to prison after all, Beth.” Danny’s laughter grew louder.

  “No! I’m not!” Beth shrieked. In one swift movement, she whipped the gun toward her head.

  “Nooo!” Victoria shouted.

  Three shots rang out. One from each gun in the room.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Trembling inside, Victoria lowered her gun. Four of her dogs raced away, tails underneath them, terrified of the gun shots.

  Beth lay motionless on the ground, blood spewing from her shoulder and neck. Rivera crossed the room. With a swift kick, he sent Beth’s gun spinning across the floor and away from her.

  Victoria hurried to Ned’s side, followed by the remaining dogs, and gripped his upper arms. She gazed up at him. “Ned! I was so worried I might lose y—.” She removed her hands and took a quick step back. “I mean—are you hurt?”

  Ned shook his head, closed his eyes for a second. “No, I’m fine. Shaken as hell, but fine. That might be an everyday occurrence for you two, but not for—”

  From the floor, Beth let out another moan.

  Rivera shouted, “She’s still alive,” and pulled out his phone.

  Gasping, Ned ran to Beth and kneeled by her side. He tore off his shirt and pressed it against her neck. “I don’t think the bullet hit the jugular. Get me some towels.”

  “This is Federal Agent Dante Rivera. We have a serious gunshot victim who needs immediate medical assistance. The address is—Victoria!”

  “1406 Arbor Way,” Ned answered.

  As Rivera repeated the information to the dispatcher, Beth’s lips moved rhythmically.

  “What’s she saying?” Victoria asked.

  “I think she’s counting,” Ned answered.

  Beth’s eyes flew open and rolled back into her head. She fell silent.

  “Go!” Ned yelled to Victoria.

  Victoria rushed away with dogs trailing after her.

  “Wait,” Ned hollered. “Get a tie, or a scarf, too! And get tampons!”

  “Okay,” Victoria shouted from the hallway.

  “And gloves if you have them!”

  With her breath coming in fast gasps, she hurried to the master bedroom. She yanked a scarf from a rack in her closet, snatched tampons from under her bathroom sink, and grabbed a tall stack of crisp white towels from the linen shelves. She rushed back with her arms full. She’d been involved with life and death emergencies before, but never in her own kitchen. With Ned, Rivera, her dogs, and so much blood. . . there was som
ething surreal about the entire situation.

  The dogs surrounded the spreading pool of blood and lapped at it. She swung her leg toward them. “Out! Get away!” They scattered, spreading bloody paw prints across the floor. “I still have to get gloves.”

  “I’ve got some.” Rivera grabbed them from his pocket and held them out.

  Ned’s hands were already soaked with blood. “You put them on,” he told Rivera. “Then grab a towel and put your hand where mine is. Press down like you mean it.”

  Victoria dumped the load she was carrying onto the floor and tossed Rivera a towel. He took Ned’s place.

  Ned straddled Beth and began chest compressions. He glanced up at Victoria for a fraction of a second, just long enough for her to know he was telling her what to do. “Tie the scarf or—whatever you brought—tie it around her shoulder like a tourniquet,” he said breathlessly. “Then plug each of those holes with a tampon.” He did another series of compressions. “Then one of you needs to get behind her and stabilize her neck, don’t let her head move at all. Damn it! We should have done that first.”

  Victoria knelt and tied the scarf around Beth’s shoulder and pulled it tight. Sweat slid down Ned’s temples as he continued pumping Beth’s chest. Her blood spread across the floor, soaking through their pant legs as they knelt around her. The dogs returned and licked at the blood while Victoria yelled, “No. Get away,” in a futile attempt to make them stop. Rivera sneezed violently, four times in a row.

  Ambulance sirens wailed in the distance as Ned continued compressions.

  “I have to let them in.” As Victoria keyed the code to open the gate into her phone, and the approaching sirens grew louder, Ned and Rivera worked furiously to save the killer’s life. Rivera’s lips moved silently, and Victoria knew he was praying. The woman bleeding out on the ground was a dangerous killer with severe psychological problems. They would do everything they could to save her.

  Epilogue