Page 115 of Tell Me (Savannah 3)

“Watch it,” he growled angrily.

And then they were across the porch and inside the cabin, with its weird half-light from the flashlight on the floor.

This was no good! No good! All too vividly she remembered the last time she’d been under a psycho’s control and how the bastard had locked her in the casket. She’d hardly been able to move, barely able to draw a breath, the coffin close, so airless, so unbearable. In a blink, she was there again, in that awful space.

She was starting to hyperventilate, though Camp didn’t notice as he held her tight, his jacket bunching between them, the fabric moving as he propelled her forward.

Don’t freak out. Don’t go there, Nikki. You have to stay clearheaded, you have to find a way out of this mess. Think, for God’s sake, and listen to him. He enjoys reliving his victory over Blondell. He might forget about you for a moment . . . just a moment . . . Keep him talking. Whatever you do, keep him talking!

Reed took a corner a little too fast, the tires of his Cadillac screaming in protest.

His phone rang and he connected. “Reed.”

“What the hell happened to you?” Morrisette demanded. “You go out to take a call, and the next thing I know I get a message saying you’re going to that damned cabin.”

“Nikki’s there. With Camp.”

“What? Holy Christ.”

“I called for backup. I’ll be there in five.”

“I’m on my way!”

Reed hung up and only hoped he wasn’t too late.

“I . . . thought Blondell loved you,” Nikki said.

“So the fuck did I! That’s why I wanted to have it out with her, clear the goddamned air.” He was furious now, reliving that night in his mind. “But things changed when I saw her with that bastard McBaine. Then the goddamn snake got loose. Everything was going to hell in a fuckin’ handbasket, but then McBaine finally leaves and Blondell goes to the porch. I wanted to kill her. I really did. But then I saw Amity lying there on the couch, dead to the world. And God, she was beautiful. More beautiful than her own mother. So I think to myself, what better way to get back at Blondell than to fuck her daughter. Jesus, I got hard just thinking about how she would react. It was, like, almost too good to be true, just there for the taking, like God wanted me to do it or somethin’.”

He said it as if he believed it, as if divine intervention were the reason he planned to rape a teenager. Dear God . . .

“But I never got the chance. The damned snake must’ve crawled into the sleeper, under the covers somehow, and bit her. All of a sudden she’s screamin’ bloody murder, and Blondell runs in! It was as if she’d been waitin’ for me to show up! But we never struggled for no gun. I didn’t have one. I just ran.”

“But no.... the gun, the kids,” Nikki said weakly, trying to keep her wits about her, to process his confession even while she searched for an escape.

“I figured, like everyone else, that she shot ’em to shut ’em up. Probably thought they’d all die on the way to the hospital, and she even shot herself too, to make it look like someone else did it. I always wondered why she didn’t recognize me, but figured it was too dark or she was just too damned freaked.” The knife twitched in his hand, and Nikki sucked in her breath. Already she was bleeding, could feel the warm drizzle of blood sliding down her neck and under her collar. Any second he could slit her throat.

Camp seemed unaware that he’d already cut her as he continued, caught up in his memory, “Maybe she just didn’t see me or was afraid that I’d let on about McBaine being her lover, the father of her new bastard, so she made up the story about some guy with a serpent tattoo—probably thought of that because of the snake. Jesus H. Christ, that woman was a cat in heat and always lookin’ to get pregnant,” he snarled in disgust. “And then she shoots her kids? She’s a freak, let me tell you, a goddamned freak of nature, and should be locked up for life or worse.”

“You could do it. With your testimony,” Nikki ventured. They were halfway across the room, their legs illuminated by the flashlight, the upper area of the cabin dark.

“Who’d believe me? Nah!”

“You could get immunity from perjuring yourself in the first trial, work a deal.”

“Shut up. With the cops? No way. No fuckin’ way. And I’m in too deep. And she’s goin’ to be out anyway. Can’t be tried for the same fuckin’ crime twice, so what good would it do?”

The stairs were directly in front of them, running up the back wall. Did he think he could get her to climb up there again? If he did, he’d have to take the knife away from her throat. Maybe he thought he’d throw her over the railing, make it look as if she’d had an accident.

That would be good. She could risk jumping over again.

But he knew that too. Wouldn’t give her a second opportunity.

Where the hell was Reed?

They were at the base of the stairs now, and all of a sudden she realized his intention. It was not to force her up the narrow, open staircase, but to thrust her into the closet of the bathroom, a tiny space filled with spiders and mold without a window or any air.

Oh, God, no!

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