Page 59 of Almost Dead (The Cahills 2)

It sounded like heaven. “And then what about you?”

“I’ll be around.” He gave her a smile, and she felt the ice around her heart thaw a bit.

“That would be great. I owe you.” Leaning over, she kissed her son’s head and then headed upstairs. She didn’t bother with the bath, just washed her face, changed into her favorite pajamas, and tumbled into bed.

She was asleep before her head hit the pillow, and, dead to the world, she never noticed when, hours later, Jack slid into the bed next to her.

Chapter 12

“…I’m telling you, it was great! Great! No one suspected a thing! You would have been so proud of me! I walked through Cissy’s house as if I owned the place, and no one gave me a second glance.” Elyse was talking fast, exhilarated, still on a high as she explained to Marla what she’d done, how she’d mingled with the enemy and showed up not only at the funeral but at the gathering after the service. Her nerves were still jangled, and she felt breathless, as if she’d spent the last five hours in the company of hungry wolves. And she’d survived! Thrived!

“I should be proud of you?” Marla scoffed. “As if it was hard for you to blend in? Give me a break.”

Elyse stared. She’d expected praise.

During her last visit to the bungalow Marla had been pleased to hear that Elyse had killed Rory, just as Marla had requested.

“About time that half-wit got what was coming to him,” Marla had said with a little more animation than she’d shown for a week. “This is all working perfectly.” She’d actually ignored the damned television for once. “Do you know how much money it costs every month to keep him at that swank facility?”

Swank? There had been nothing swank or posh or expensive-looking about Harborside Assisted Living, but, of course, the kind of care Rory Amhurst needed hadn’t been cheap.

“He was lucky to be alive,” Marla had added. “I was there when dear old Mom ran over him. I heard the thump and the crunch of his bones.” She’d had the grace to shudder at the memory, but added callously, “But I guess he was an Amhurst. All of us are pretty thick-skulled.” She’d actually laughed and Elyse had felt strangely put off, even though, she was certain, she’d heard the same joke before.

“It was a freak accident. The poor kid…”

“Was it? An accident?” Marla had repeated enigmatically. “I guess dear old Mom didn’t set out to kill him, but you—defending him—when you baked him the brownies that killed him. What did you call him, ‘a poor kid’? He was a man; that accident was over thirty-five years ago! And don’t be acting all caring and warm and fuzzy. For God’s sake, you watched him die, you told me you did, and you liked it. That ‘poor kid’ didn’t know up from sideways. He’s better off dead.”

“I’m not sure that’s true.”

“Then why the hell did you kill him?”

“For you,” Elyse had blurted, stung. “What? Did you forget?”

“Oh, come on.”

“For the plan. Our plan.”

“You did it for the thrill,” Marla had said knowingly. “Because you could. It’s an incredible sense of power knowing you can take a life, even a pathetic one. Tell yourself it’s for our plan…we both know differently. But it was a good job. Now we can move forward.”

Elyse had let herself bask in Marla’s praise, grudging as it was. And Marla had been right. She had enjoyed the kill.

But now they were back to their same roles: Elyse trying to placate a testy, surly Marla. For God’s sake, the woman acted as if she were a prisoner, when Elyse had risked her neck to spring her. Ungrateful, self-centered bitch!

“You think you’re something special, don’t you?” Marla suddenly accused, as if reading her thoughts. “Because you killed two people who deserved to die. Oh, don’t deny it. I saw it on your face when you burst in here after killing Eugenia, and then Rory. You were on a high like no other. You felt invincible.”

Elyse was thunderstruck. Was it possible that Marla understood her better than she’d thought?

“But really,” Marla said stiffly, “just how invincible are you? Eugenia was tiny and old, had already taken her dose of Valium, right? She couldn’t have weighed a hundred pounds soaking wet, and so you tossed her over the rail. Big deal. And then Rory, just an innocent boy in a man’s body, right? Not a mean bone in his body. Crippled enough that he used a wheelchair and you slipped him some doctored brownies. How much intellect or skill does it take to trick a retard?”

“You wanted me to kill them. You told me to,” Elyse burst out.

“Yes, I did. And it’s fine that you feel exhilarated with the kills, but let’s just keep it all in perspective, okay? You preyed on the weak and the helpless. Things are going to get harder. A lot harder.”

Elyse didn’t know what she’d expected but it hadn’t been a lecture on the finer points of murder, a discussion of what was morally right or wrong.

Jesus, what did Marla want from her?

“You know, if I could get out of here, everything would be already done.”

---