“The one that led to Kurt’s death?” Josie asked.
“Yes. He beat me until I told him everything. I tried to tell him it was going to be okay because Vera was finally gone. I killed her so the whole thing would go away.”
“How could you do it?” Connie whined. “How could you kill her?”
“Shut up!” Marisol hollered.
Connie blanched, shrinking back toward the tree, slouching down a little. Gretchen was almost on top of her, even though her gun was still pointed at Marisol. Josie felt a tiny wave of relief that for a moment, the barrel of the gun wasn’t on Connie’s head. Still, she whimpered. “Vera was your friend! How could you?”
“Friends keep secrets, Con,” Marisol shot back. “Vera wasn’t a true friend. After all I did for her, she wasn’t going to keep my secrets. Just like you.”
Forty-Nine
Everything seemed to slow down, the seconds clicking coldly by, like the blinking of an eye. Blink. Marisol’s finger depressed the trigger. Blink. The concussive boom of a gunshot shook the air around them. Blink. Gretchen lunged toward Connie. Blink. Josie fired at Marisol. Blink. Another crack blistered through the air. Blink. Gretchen and Connie went down hard on the ground. Blink. The world fell out from beneath them.
It took another blink for Josie to realize what had happened. She was falling. Then water engulfed her. Sludge and tree roots slid down onto her head. Her mouth opened, only to take in soil and thick, grimy water.
Landslide.
Her limbs fought to find the surface. She opened her eyes but there was only blackness all around her. The water was thick with dirt, making it nearly impossible to move through it or even to breathe. More weight fell onto her head. That has to be up, a voice in her head told her. The surface. She kicked and punched through the sludge. Something latched onto her hand and pulled. Striving toward it, she kicked harder. Finally, her head broke the surface. Hacking, she reached her fingers into her mouth and tried to clear it of the debris from the landslide. The dirt was gritty in her teeth. Clearing her eyes, she looked around. Neck-deep in the dirty water stood Connie.
“Thank you,” Josie told her. Frantically, she panned the area. The entire ledge had fallen into the moat. The trees behind it were now horizontal, hanging above their heads.
“We have to get out of here,” Josie told Connie. She took the woman’s hand and together, they fought their way further out into the water where the muck dissipated and their limbs could move more freely. As they moved away from Quail Hollow and toward the adjacent neighborhood, the floodwater grew deeper and colder. On the tips of her toes, Josie could just keep her chin out of the water.
“Have you seen Gretchen?” Josie asked. “My colleague?”
Connie shook her head.
Josie looked around again. A loud, eerie creaking sound filled the air, and the trees slowly began to upend into the moat.
Where was Gretchen?
Please don’t be dead, Josie prayed.
Josie turned as she heard splashing behind her. Marisol swam away from them, toward the houses in the distance. They were at least a mile away. Josie didn’t know how strong a swimmer Marisol was, but she wasn’t letting her get away.
“Stay here,” Josie told Connie. “Look for my friend.”
With long, even strokes, Josie swam after Marisol. “Stop!” Josie shouted.
Marisol paused when Josie was within a foot of her. She turned and flew at Josie. Josie tried to balance on her toes to keep her head above the water. Throwing her hands up, she attempted to block Marisol, but she slid her arms through Josie’s and wrapped her fingers around Josie’s throat, squeezing. Josie thrashed against her and fell backward into the water. Her fingers worked at Marisol’s hands, trying to pry them loose as Marisol pushed her and held her beneath the water. Josie floundered until her feet found purchase and she tried to push up, to break the water’s surface and find air, but Marisol held her firmly under the water. Josie’s lungs burned. She abandoned her efforts to loosen Marisol’s grip on her throat and instead threw her fists, trying to find some part of Marisol’s body. When that didn’t work, she went back to work on Marisol’s death grip, scrabbling to find Marisol’s fingers. She was beginning to black out when she felt a long fingernail. She snapped it back and Marisol’s grip loosened just enough for Josie to push away.
Swatting Marisol’s hands away, Josie’s head punched up above the water and she gulped air. She got one deep inhale before Marisol was on her again, screaming, her hands grabbing at Josie’s clothes, her arms, her throat, her hair. Josie wanted to punch her, to subdue her, but in the water, all of her training was useless. They thrashed and flopped, locked in battle with Marisol trying to hold Josie under the water long enough to kill her and Josie fighting to get air in her lungs long enough to fight Marisol off. How was this woman so strong?
Desperation, Josie thought. This was the pure adrenaline of a woman desperate to keep her secrets, to escape her past. Josie knew a thing or two about wanting to escape the past. With renewed vigor, her arms and legs surged, as she twisted out of Marisol’s grip and landed a solid kick to her ribs. As Josie sucked in more air, she was dimly aware of noises around them. Someone shouting, and some other noise. A hum of some kind.
Josie paddled away from Marisol, taking the few precious seconds she had while Marisol recovered from the kick to her ribs. She needed to regroup. She’d always been a strong swimmer, but the tussle had taken a lot out of her. But again, Marisol’s adrenaline drove her. She caught up with Josie and gripped one of her legs, pulling her back under the water. Josie kicked up and out of her grasp, breaking the surface again, coughing so violently that a devastating streak of pain seared across her chest. Then Marisol was pulling her back down beneath the water. She flailed again and her vision grayed.
Then, suddenly, she was free. She turned back to see Gretchen, a vision in mud, holding a fistful of Marisol’s hair. Profound relief streaked through Josie’s entire body. Marisol still thrashed, trying to get away from Gretchen. Josie drew closer to help Gretchen get her under control when something bumped against the back of her head. She turned to see the bright red of a rescue boat. Paddling in place, she wiped strands of her hair from her face. A hand reached down to her. “Come on,” said a familiar voice.
Josie looked up to see Sawyer Hayes. When she didn’t take his hand, he shook it at her. “Take my hand,” he said. “Get in.”
She let him pull her in and once on the floor of the boat, her body snapped in on itself, trying to expel the last of the dirt and water she’d breathed in. Through watery eyes, she saw Gretchen lose her grip on a wild Marisol Dutton. Marisol disappeared beneath the water. The boat operator was already getting close to Gretchen. Hayes lifted her into the boat. Beside Josie, Gretchen’s body was racked with spasms as she, too, coughed and hacked. Finally, they both collapsed against the inside of the boat. Josie looked down to see a streak of blood soaking through her jeans. She’d definitely popped the stitches in her leg this time. Along the shoreline, where the trees had fallen, Connie held fast to a large branch. Beyond her, on firm land, her little dog ran back and forth, barking. The boat steered in Connie’s direction and picked her up.