Page 69 of Drop Dead Gorgeous

“Well, look, that isn’t my fault,” I pointed out.

“I don’t care what is or isn’t your fault. This isn’t about you. It’s about him. It’s about him finding out what it’s like to love someone so much you hurt, and not be able to have them. It’s about living with pain for the rest of your life, a pain you can’t walk away from.”

“Huh. Sounds like you should put yourself out of your misery.” I just hate whiny people, don’t you? Bad things happen to everyone. A busted relationship isn’t the same as someone dying, so get over it.

“Shut up!” She moved closer to the foot of the stairs, that two-handed grip still as steady as ever. “You don’t know what it’s like. When we got married I knew he didn’t love me as much as I loved him, but at least I had a chance, I thought. But I never got to build on it. A pro athlete is gone a lot. I had to share him with the team, both before and after the season. I had to share him with his family, because he came down here every chance we got. I even had to share him with Sandy Patrick and his bimbos, because he was Wyatt’s best friend. Do you have any idea how many meals we ate where it was just us?”

I shrugged. “Two? That’s just a guess. I don’t know how long you were married. He doesn’t talk about you.” No, I didn’t like her, didn’t feel sorry for her, didn’t give a damn about her other than I wanted to keep her talking long enough for Wyatt to get back.

“How would you feel, sharing him with the whole world,” she began hotly.

“See, that’s the difference between us,” I said, leaning on the newel post. “I think the whole concept of sharing is overrated. It’s unnatural. I don’t like to share. Idon’tshare. Iwill notshare.” Unspoken were the words,You worm.Do you think I’d have put up with being ignored for a single minute?

She looked a little rattled, as if she’d expected me to be hysterical by now, crying and begging. Rattled wasn’t good. Rattled did stupid things, like pull the trigger. To get her mind off my unnatural behavior, I asked, “How did you get in here, anyway?”

“I’ve been watching this house. I’ve watched the two of you back out of the garage a dozen times. Neither of you ever waits to make certain the door is completely down. In fact, you’re around the house and out of sight before the door is halfway down. When he left, I just rolled a ball into the garage. The automatic sensor stopped the door and raised it back up. I walked in. How hard was that?”

So she’d been in the house since Wyatt had left. She could have caught me unawares, killed me, and already left, but she’d wanted to play her little game with the boots. She’dwantedme terrified.

I said, “Not very, I guess,” and shrugged. If I lived through this, a security system was going inimmediately—the kind that beeps whenever a door is opened. “I guess you threw the master breaker switch, too.”

She nodded. “The box is in the garage. Why not?”

“And you were playing musical chairs with the rental cars, right? And wearing wigs? Except for that horrible dye job you had at the hospital.”

“I didn’t plan as well as I could have. I hadn’t even thought about security cameras in the mall parking lot. Thanks for telling me. I thought about the wigs after it took a stylisthoursto get that shit out of my hair.”

“You could have saved yourself the trouble. The tapes were worn out. Wyatt couldn’t get any useful details from them.”

Now she looked annoyed, because I’m sure she went to a lot of trouble, swapping cars. And she was right: stripping artificial color out of your hair is a long, messy job. I’d have been pissed about that, too.

“You missed with the car in the parking lot, but I can’t see that as a very effective way to kill someone.”

She shrugged. “Spur of the moment decision. I’d been following you around and all of a sudden there you were, strutting across the parking lot as if you owned it. You were a…target of opportunity.”

“Strutting? Excuse me. I don’tstrut.” Indignant, I straightened from the newel post.

“Prancing, then. I hated you on sight. I’d have smothered you in the hospital if you’d been alone.”

“Boy, you aren’t good at this killing shit at all, are you?”

“It’s my first time. I’m learning as I go. I should have been more straightforward. Walk up to you, put a bullet in you, walk away.”

Except she still hadn’t learned that lesson.

Fifteen minutes hadn’t gone by yet; I was certain of that. I hadn’t heard any cars drive up. Would Wyatt drive up? Or would he park down the road and sneak up on the house?

No sooner had that thought crossed my mind than he half stepped out of the kitchen door behind her, keeping part of his body behind cover. His automatic was in his right hand and aimed at her head. “Megan—”

Startled, she whirled. She might have been a good shot, in fact we found out later that she really was, she regularly shot at a target range, but she’d never practiced a real-life situation. She was already pulling the trigger as she whirled, the shots going wild.

Wyatt’s didn’t.

And neither did her last one.

My heart literally stopped, for a couple of agonizing seconds. I don’t remember moving, but I was down those stairs, leaping over her as she lay there moaning. If she hadn’t already been lying down, I’d have plowed over her getting to him.

Until the day I die I’ll see the expression on his face, see the way the bullet jerked him back, see the red spray of blood from his chest, arcing almost in slow motion. He staggered back, then went down on one knee. He struggled to get up, to get on his feet again, then sort of sprawled sideways. And still he kept trying to get up.

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