Deceit: A Novel Part 35

And Baxter Jackson would never be prosecuted for Linda's death.

I brought up Word. It opened a new doc.u.ment.

Ironic, wasn't it? I had lived to find people. Now I would die helping one disappear.

Melissa's breaths came short and quick. I could feel the angst rolling off her. She wanted to be gone. "Tell me as you type," she demanded.

My throat had run dry. I thought of Perry, wondered how he could work all day without sleep. Of Dineen and Jimmy. Baxter now in jail. Was he talking to Dan and Slater? Or had he already called an attorney?

The world was revolving around me. While I sat with a gun to my head.

Dan's words echoed. "I'll get a court order for her cell records. If she uses that phone we'll locate her."

If I did one last thing on this earth, it would be to ensure that Melissa would be found.

"You can't maintain a regular address or phone number." I keyed in the words as I spoke. My voice sounded hoa.r.s.e. "Those are things we use to track people."

"So I move all the time?"

"You keep virtual, even as you live in one place. You leave no correct trail. You leave many false ones. That will send your pursuers looking in all the wrong directions."

I glanced at Melissa-and saw the gleam in her eyes. Already she pictured herself with $300,000, living as she wanted, doing what she wanted. Disgust and revenge bit my nerves. "You love this, don't you?"

She gave me a smile that turned my stomach.

Just wait till you learn that money will never come.

I typed "Bills" as the first heading. "Rent post office boxes in numerous states. Spread your bills out between them. Then call the companies every month for your balances and pay them. Tell each biller they have the wrong Social Security number on file and give them a wrong one. Give them new phone numbers."

"For false trails?"

"Yes."

I labeled another heading "Internet." "Make sure your only email address is a Yahoo or Hotmail. Don't search the Internet from your home computer. Go to an Internet cafe or library."

I could feel sweat pop out on my forehead. My arms started to shake. Fear and lack of sleep turned my body to wax.

"What else?" Her voice edged, her eyes flicking to my clock.

Long minutes ticked by until I lost track of time. I told Melissa how to open a corporation in the state of her choice, using a certain kind of address. Then open a bank account using the corporation information. Following that, open a corporation in Canada. I typed out the details, my insides churning into jelly. My fingers slipped on keys, and my eyes began to burn.

"Come on!" Melissa stomped closer, menacing with her weapon.

I swallowed hard. Tried to collect my melting thoughts.

"Don't continue anything like magazine subscriptions. Pay for all plane tickets with cash. Don't get any type of service, like cable, under your name. Use your foreign corporation."

"What about phone calls?"

"Once you leave don't call people you know from here. Cut your ties."

"I don't have any ties that matter."

Here is where I should tell her about prepaid phones. That she should not make one more call from her current phone. That she should turn it on and leave it somewhere, drawing the police to the wrong location.

Spots began to dance before my eyes. I slumped back against my chair.

"Keep going!"

"I've been up for two days." The words ground like tires over gravel.

"I don't care."

What little energy I had left burst into rage. I could feel the surge, the white hotness. But my limbs would not respond. The rage flamed and died, leaving me empty. Too tired to care.

So what if she killed me? So what? I'd be in heaven with Tom.

"Joanne, talk!"

The words bounced off my numb body. Then, from a place unknown, one last remnant of fight seeped into my soul. I opened my mouth to taunt Melissa with the truth. That Baxter had been arrested, and her blackmail plans had burnt to ashes. She would have no money to run with. And nowhere to go.

"Melissa-"

An unseen hand s.n.a.t.c.hed the words from my tongue. If I told her, she wouldn't show up at the drop-off location, wouldn't be caught today.

"Talk!" Melissa smashed her gun into the back of my head.

Pain shot through my skull. I cried out. Lurched forward.

Melissa moved behind me. The gun barrel pushed against the base of my head. "How do I use a phone and not be traced?" The words staccatoed from her mouth, hard and acidic.

My brain throbbed. I couldn't see.

"Tell me!"

My fingers gripped the desk, my teeth gritted. This girl was evil. "Do you even...really know where Linda is buried?"

Melissa shoved the gun barrel harder against my head. "Tell me about the cell phone!"

My mouth hung open. I dragged in air. "I want Baxter...to pay."

Melissa yelled a curse. Her left hand grabbed my shoulder and shook until my body rattled in the chair. "Guess what, Miss Lying Christian." Her words spat through clenched teeth. "You want to know the truth? Baxter didn't kill Linda. I did. She caught us in bed and went after Baxter with a knife. I stabbed her first. And you know what?" Melissa spun my chair around, grasped my jaw, and squeezed hard. She stuck her face into mine. "I didn't care." Melissa shoved my head to one side and drew back. "And I won't care when I kill you either."

I stared at her, eyes half mast. I couldn't think, couldn't process what she said...

Melissa killed Linda?

Melissa jerked my chair around to face the computer. My eyes could barely make out the doc.u.ment.

"Tell me about my cell phone!"

Melissa killed Linda?

"Tell me now!"

This girl killed Linda. My best friend.

I licked my dry lips.

"Jo-anne-"

"Use your cell...until your next bill." I didn't even try to type. Couldn't. "Then toss it. Get a...prepaid phone. Switch to a...new prepaid...every month."

"Police can't trace this cell phone?"

Pain spread needle wings, swept through my body. "They can trace...your number...to the address on the account...but you'll...be gone."

"Can't they trace my location with the cell?"

I forced a sick laugh. "Only in the m-movies."

"You're lying."

"No. Not."

"You are!"

She hit me again with the b.u.t.t of her gun. My head exploded.

Darkened.

I listed to my right side.

"Print out what you've got, Joanne! Print it now!"

My arms wobbled. Were those my fingers? My failing eyes found Control P. Somehow I hit the keys. My printer whirred into action.

Melissa killed Linda. I couldn't...let her get away...

I hit Control S. Had to save the file for evidence. The little box appeared, using the beginning words I'd typed as the file's default name under "My Doc.u.ments." I clicked Save.

Paper rolled out from the printer.

One sheet.

Two.

Melissa leaned around me to s.n.a.t.c.h them up.

My arm jerked out and smashed into her left wrist.

She cursed and scrabbled for the doc.u.ment. I elbowed her hard in the shoulder. Melissa fell to her right, toward the window. The weapon slipped from her hand. Clattered to the floor.

Dizziness swirled over me in a smothering blanket. "Run!" my brain shrieked. "Hit her again!" But I could do nothing.

The world dimmed. Melissa snapped down toward the gun. I struggled to raise my arms, fight her away. But the motion sprayed me with nausea.

The office tilted.

Melissa rose, gun aimed at my chest. I collapsed to my left, rolled off the chair into empty s.p.a.ce.

A shot cracked the air.

Monster teeth tore through my body, long and sharp and hungry.

I smashed into the floor-and blackness.

SIXTY.

AUGUST 2004.

Stiff-backed, Melissa hurtled through the night, following the demon-eyed glow of Baxter's taillights. They took back roads out of Vonita and west across 101. Baxter was apparently headed toward the woods that spilled toward the coast.

His comb still lay in Melissa's zipped-up sweatshirt pocket.

Melissa's mind churned through sequences and lies. When would she and Baxter "discover" Linda was missing? What time had they last seen her? Where had she said she was going? Melissa imagined Chief Eddington's narrowed eyes as he grilled her, his suspicious tone.

How good would Baxter be at playing the distraught and worried husband? Could he keep it up day after day? Even now he wavered between emotion and resolve.

Melissa's mouth twisted. Forget whatever weakness Baxter displayed in private. How many years had he played the perfect church man to the world?

Baxter slowed, and his left blinker flicked on. They turned onto a narrow lane leading through a forest. Not a house anywhere nor an ounce of light other than from their cars. Trees crowded the road like menacing sentinels, blocking out the stars, the moon.

How had Baxter known of this place? A possible housing development site? Some Sunday picnic with Linda?

Five minutes later, shortly after they'd pa.s.sed a lone house on a cleared hill, he turned onto a rutted road. Melissa followed. After a jouncing mile downhill, Baxter stopped. His car head beams flipped off, replaced with the dull yellow of parking lights.

Melissa turned off the BMW and hit the b.u.t.ton to pop the trunk.

She stepped from the car into thick, dank air. Silence hung heavy and deep. Accusing. As if the forest knew.