Page 60 of One Last Lie

“I know,” she says. “But I can’t tell anyone about this. Obviously, I can’t tell Richard.”

That brings me up short. “You can’t?”

“Of course not. He thinks Elena killed Johnathan.”

I blink in surprise. “What?”

She grins at me. “You’re wondering why he changed the cause of death. Well, I asked him to. I told him the kids couldn’t handle knowing that their father was murdered. I told him that Elena would never get close enough to us to hurt us and that I would be letting go of my stake in the company anyway. I meant that part, too. I just want Elena to sweat a little. Johnathan was right about that. It’s fun watching her throw tantrums.”

My head spins again. “So Richard thought that…”

“I told him that Johnathan was having an affair with Elena. Sorry to ruin your picture-perfect image of him, but he did have an affair with her. I caught her on top of him, and unless there’s a family friendly reason to be naked and straddling a man, they were definitely having sex. Granted, that was twelve years ago, and I’m pretty sure all the canoodling stopped when she tried to steal the company from him.

“Anyway, the point is, I told Richard that Elena poisoned him when he wouldn’t give her the company, and she put the cyanide in his after-sex coffee. I had to restart things with Richard and hold out the candle that he and I could finally be together, which, as you’ve seen, has backfired tremendously. But I’ll deal with that later.”

Seeing the shock in my face, she laughs. “Don’t worry. I won’t kill him. I didn’t wear his ring, and I remembered to take my birth control, so no chance of kiddies that can complicate things. I’ll just take the kids and go somewhere else. I thought I’d keep the house, but since Theresa’s a thief, and you’re a nosy bitch, I think I’ll have to downsize. Maybe California. Some nice bungalow in Malibu. What the hell even is a bungalow? It sounds like some kind of tent. Oh well.

“Anyway, I have to kill you. I’ve told you too much. I’m sorry. I really was going to let you leave, it’s just… I’ve had a really bad day, and I needed someone to talk to. And I don’t think you were going to let this go. I think you were going to tell the cops about me, and I can’t let that happen. I’ll tell the kids… Fuck, I don’t know. I’ll figure it out.”

I rush her then. Her eyes widen, and she fires the gun, but not before I catch her wrist and push it up to the ceiling. I wrestle with her and try to throw her to the ground, but she shrieks and scratches me hard across the face. I can feel her nails tear through my skin, and I cry out in pain.

She snarls and pulls. She’s smaller than me, but she has strength born of youth and insanity. She pulls me off balance, and I fall to the ground. I still hold the gun, but the barrel ends up pointed straight at my head. I cry out and shove it to the side. The next gun shot sends a bullet into the floor of the garage, and also bursts my right eardrum.

I cry out again, but I can’t hear myself. I can’t hear anything. I feel blood trickle from my ear, and for a moment, all I can do is keep the gun pointed away.

Cecilia plants her heel on my chest and tries to pull her hand away, but I kick up and knock her off balance, then throw her over my shoulder.

She lands on her side, and scratches at me again. I duck my head, so the injuries are less severe this time, but still wince as her nails slide over my forehead.

I need to get on top of her. She’s going to have more stamina than me, and it’s evidently a mistake to count on superior physical strength. If only I had thought to take some self-defense classes.

I roll on top of her and try to wrestle the gun away, but she has a death grip on it. She swipes at me with her claws again, but this time, I grab her wrist and use my weight to force her arm down. I get my knee over her hand and use both of mine to try to pull the gun away.

God, how is she so strong? I struggle with all of my might, but she still maintains her grip. I lift my knee, thinking to press it into her face and cause her to release the gun, but with a snarl, she grabs my ankle and rolls me back over. She lifts the handgun and slams the butt into my nose.

My good ear hums, and I taste copper in my mouth. My vision fades, and she easily dislodges my limp hands from the weapon. She points the gun at me, and I close my eyes. I feel cold white fingers grip my shoulder and stare into the black, empty gaze of death.

“Drop the weapon!”

I can barely hear Richard’s voice, and at first, I don’t believe it. Then I hear it again. “Drop it, Cecilia! Damn it, I will shoot you!”

I open my eyes and see Cecilia staring in utter disbelief at the doorway. Richard stands there, gun drawn, tears streaming down his face, but clear resolve in his eyes. “Drop it!” he commands again.

Cecilia’s lip trembles. For a moment, I think she’ll kill me anyway. Then she tosses the gun to the side.

I release the breath I’ve been holding and offer a silent prayer of thanks when Cecilia gets off of me and turns around to allow Richard to handcuff her.

There will be a great deal of pain to deal with—both mine and others—but for the moment, I allow myself to be grateful that I’m alive and that Johnathan Ashford’s murderer is in custody.

I did it, Annie.

EPILOGUE

Samuel holds my hand tightly. I confess I return the grip with equal fervor. I knew that this was coming, but like all people, I found it easy to pretend that because the moment wasn’t here, it would never come.

The car pulls to a stop in front of the house, and Derek Ashford steps out. He looks so much like Johnathan that I have to blink a few times before I notice the subtle differences that set apart the younger of the Ashford brothers.

Samuel squeezes my hand, then pulls away and runs to his uncle. “Hi, Uncle Derek!”

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