Page 120 of Fortune's Control
“No one.” His indifferent backhand struck. I jerked and blinked, trying to understand what had happened. “You hit me.” It settled into a dull throb as the swelling took hold. “No one’s ever hit me before.”
“Let’s try this again. Who else saw those pictures?”
I struggled to focus. My ringing ears made adecent lie impossible. “Shane.” They wouldn’t believe a different answer, not after our many phone calls or that disastrous meeting at our house. “Shane saw them.”
I winced, waiting for the inevitable slap or punch, but it didn’t come.
“That’s a start. Who else?”
Everyone. My mother and Evelyn. Sophie, too. I couldn’t give their names, as they’d be even more defenseless. Shane knew to look for me. All I needed to do was stall. After weeks of terror, I had no intention of letting these freaks kill me. Not today. Not after Fortune’s Creek and Shane, and everything else.
Forgive me. Please forgive me. “His friend, Jack. But he doesn’t know the latest update since he left to visit his parents, who live in Miami.”
“No, don’t think you’ll get away with that. After all your sniffing, there’s more.”
“The county sheriff.” The only other name that occurred to me, and he’d expect to hear it. “Shane handled most of it, so I don’t know who we spoke to. They filed a report, but without a name, there was nothing to do.”
“What about my partner?”
A slim hope flickered in me. “Your partner never listened to me. He doesn’t believe me at all.”
“Did you tell him anything about your photos or video?”
We told Wilson Skane’s lawyer everything and provided him with the video. Davis doesn’t know that, I realized. He believed we had told his partner, and Moore was on to him. How could I use that? “I tried speaking to him, but he told me to stay in Fortune’s Creek and hung up on me. He said I wasted his time.”
“Matty, you had your turn, and now it’s mine.” Nelsonshoved his brother back. “I’m the one who found her, didn’t I?”
Matty? Detective Davis was Detective Matthew Davis? A mundane name for a man who aided his serial killer little brother.
“You idiot. You found her because I told you where she was.”
“I spoke to her mother.” Spittle flew from Nelson’s mouth. “Useless dumb bitch couldn’t even give me an address. She kept telling me to keep her daughter safe.”
“You can’t kill her until we know everything. Do you get that?”
“You heard her. No one knows it’s me, and there’s no one to connect me to Orlando or the ones in Savannah and Birmingham. We kill her, and this case goes away. The other witnesses bought the story, so we’re in the clear. I promised to stay out of Atlanta after this, didn’t I?”
“You idiot. She’s listening to us,” Davis said.
I rushed to defend myself. “No one knows about Savannah or Birmingham.” I regularly fumbled for words, and now my stupid mouth couldn’t shut up.
Another blow to the other cheek, and they returned to their arguing.
Throughout my time in Fortune’s Creek, I wondered how Nelson found me, and never once suspected Detective Davis. Bile rose in me over my naivety. I blamed my mother, accusing her of putting a killer on my doorstep when she’d given them nothing.
Running away didn’t work when the person hunting you knew everything. I doubted my intuition and myself because of these men. My anger grew as I fought against my fear. “Why did you put pictures under my front door?” My froggy voice sounded wrong, like it belonged to a stranger.
“What pictures?” Davis looked at his brother. “What did you do?”
Nelson raised his hands, palms out. What happened to his knife? I cast about, hoping to find it. If their fight grew, it could be my chance.
“He took pictures of me after the murder. I didn’t believe in Wilson Skane’s innocence until I found them.”
“I tried to scare her a little.” Nelson cackled and shrugged his shoulders. “Stop the killing, isn’t that what you told me? I’d get caught, and you wouldn’t protect me.”
“If that’s true, why did you threaten me?” I tried again. “You said I was next, right after killing poor Sandy. Your voice differs from his. I finally figured it out. You two look alike, but Wilson Skane doesn’t have your accent.”
Davis shoved his face into mine again and let out a puff of breath. The rancid smell filled my nostrils, and I choked. “Who did you tell about my brother’s voice?”
