A shrug. “You got in the way.” He advanced.
She scurried back. Almost slipped on a puddle.
“I don’t really know how you even found out what I did. That murder board of yours was quite something.”
There was a dock about ten feet away. Maybe someone was over there. In one of the boats tied close by. Desperate, Maisey darted for the dock.
He followed her. Shadowing her movements as the torrents of rain pelted down even harder.
“I didn’t kill Whitney, though. You should know that. Never touched her.” He was on the dock with her.
And, no, dammit, she didn’t see anyone who could help her. The boats all appeared empty as they shoved up and down against the rough waves.
“But I did kill that lying slut Hannah. She cheated on me with my best friend. Can you believe that? So I took her out into the mountains—there are miles and miles of mountains near my old home in Tennessee—and I made sure she didn’t come back.” He laughed. “Didn’t even have to hide her body. I let the animals take care of her.”
She needed a weapon.
“I got the hell on with my life after that. Went to college. Got my Ph.D. Met Jenny Lynch. I liked Jenny, at first. We hooked up a few times, but can you believe she was seeing someone else on the side, too? I mean, what the fuck? Does anyone understand commitment these days?”
“You killed her.” She was backing up as he advanced, and she was starting to run out of room on the dock. The water pounded on either side of them, and the bobbing boats sent waves splashing into the air.
“I did. Killed her, then took out a boat and dumped her. Figure the fish ate her. We’ve got some damn big sharks out here in the Gulf. I cut her before I put her in the water. You know, chumming her up some.”
She was going to be sick.
“I’ll have to cut you, too, so that they will come for you. But don’t worry. You won’t feel a thing. I’ll make sure you’re dead before you go in the water.” He paused. “I heard on the news that Heather was saying Whitney was alive when she went in the water. Amateur mistake. You want to kill someone, then you kill them. You don’t leave shit to chance.”
She was at the end of the dock. There was nowhere to go but into the water. And, normally, she was a great swimmer, but Maisey was having a hard enough time standing upright. Her body swayed as the heavy blasts of rain fell down on her.
Clay held out his hand to her. “End of the line.” He wiggled his fingers. “It won’t be painful, I promise.”
She was supposed to believe him?
“I had actually even thought about letting you live. But you interrupted me at the wrong time. Saw something you shouldn’t have.”
My laptop.
“I knew I had to get rid of the last bit of evidence from my break-in at your place. Especially since the cops were planning to come over with their crime scene teams and see if Heather left anything else at my house. So I just shoved the remaining murder board crap in my bags. I put basketballs on top of the evidence. That’s what I did the other night, too, when Odin caught me leaving.”
She swiped at the rain on her face. “What are you talking about?” But she knew. I just need more time.
“When your boyfriend was poking around in my trunk the other night, he just didn’t look hard enough. If he’d jerked out a few of those basketballs from my bag, he would have found some of that murder board shit you’d had at your place. I stuffed the evidence in the bottom of the bag. I hauled it away and burned that shit.” He laughed. “Oh, and by the way, nice try making me think you had a backup of the evidence on your computer at the college, but I looked, and you didn’t have jack.”
She saw movement behind his shoulders. Relief flooded through her. “Odin.”
“Yes, Odin.” His hand was still extended toward her. “He’s a fool. He thought he was protecting you, but he failed. Now you’re alone with me, and your big, bad, hulk of a boyfriend is nowhere to be found.”
She shook her head.
“How long do you think he’ll look for you?” Clay asked. Water streamed from his hair. Dripped from his clothes. “I say he’ll give you a month, then he’ll give up. He’ll move on. That’s what people do, you see. They move the hell on. If you’d only done that, instead of digging and digging because of Whitney, then we wouldn’t be in this—”
“I love you,” Maisey said.
“What?” Clay’s hand fisted. “You think—you think you can tell me that and I’ll spare you? You think you can manipulate me? You think—”
“I think she wasn’t talking to you, bastard,” Odin snarled from his position right behind Clay. The pounding rain and the rough waves had hidden the sound of his approach.
Clay spun toward him. “What? How—”
“Because I’m a fucking PI. That’s how.”
Maisey fell to her knees. Nausea blasted through her. She was so damn weak.
“No.” Clay shook his head. “No!” He launched at Odin. Flew at him in a fury of wild rage. His fists slammed into Odin. And Odin didn’t so much as flinch.
“Odin,” Maisey whispered.
He locked one hand around Clay’s throat. Drove the other into his face. Broke Clay’s nose with a sickening crunch. “Told you before, it’s harder when you’re not the one who is bigger and stronger.”
Clay kicked him. Odin didn’t let go. He punched Clay again. Again. Clay’s head snapped back from the blows.
The rain hammered them.
Clay’s hands fumbled. He seemed to be reaching for something.
Another syringe? If he stabbed Odin with whatever he’d given to Maisey, Odin would be helpless. “Odin, don’t let him inject you!” Maisey cried. She surged to her feet.
Odin grabbed Clay’s wrist. Yanked something from him. Threw it into the churning water.
“Stay back, Maisey,” Odin yelled.
Maisey froze.
Clay and Odin were facing off. Their fists were clenched. Their bodies tight with fury.
“I warned you,” Odin said, his voice echoing like the thunder. “I told you that I would make you vanish. You never should have touched her.” He bent low. Pulled something from his boot.
“Odin?” she whispered.
“You shouldn’t have touched her!” Clay screamed back. “You should never have been in the picture! I had plans for Maisey. She was going to be mine! She wasn’t like the others. She would have been true—”
“No.” Maisey’s voice. Cutting through the storm.
Clay wrenched his head to look back at her.
“I would have never been with you.” Was that why he’d moved next door? Because she’d been his next target?
“You would have,” he shouted back. “Or you would be dead.” Then he focused back on Odin. “Your fault. You are in the way. Your damn fault!” He ran at Odin. Uncontrolled. Frantic. He didn’t even stop to look. He just launched forward—
And ran straight into the knife that Odin held.
Maisey shuddered.
“Guess this will help to—what did you call it?—chum you up, bastard,” Odin twisted the knife. Yanked it up. When he pulled it out, Clay took one step back. His hands flew up to touch his chest as he half-turned toward Maisey.