"Linda told me he was beating her. She showed me the bruises. I never believed Baxter"s story of what happened that night. And now Cherisse is dead, and he"s going to get away with that too."
"Not my problem."
"You want him to kill a third wife someday?"
"I don"t know anything about Cherisse."
"Doesn"t matter. They"ll have to reopen that case once they see Baxter lied about Linda."
She shook her head.
"Melissa, please. I"m begging you to tell what you saw. Don"t let Baxter get away with this."
"He already has. The Vonita chief of police is one of his best friends."
"He doesn"t have to get away with it forever. You can change that."
"No, I can"t."
"Yes, you can."
"Joanne." Her eyes closed, her voice dulling. "You don"t know what you"re asking. He"ll kill me."
He"ll kill me if you don"t.
I touched her forearm. "I"ll be with you every step of the way. We"ll go to a reporter first, not the police. A reporter will be all over the story-"
"Baxter will deny everything."
"But you can prove it. You know where Linda"s body is."
Her eyes widened, and abject fright seized her face. "Who told you that?"
"It doesn"t matter."
"Oh, yes it does! Who told you?"
A clack sounded from the rear of the house. Like metal on metal. Melissa stilled, and her eyes locked with mine. She hunched forward, mouthed Did you hear that?
I nodded.
The unmistakable whir of a sliding gla.s.s door opening filtered to our ears.
Melissa focused past me, ancient horror in her eyes, as if she"d known for years this day would come. For an endless second neither of us moved.
The light in the kitchen blacked out.
Melissa twisted and smacked off the entryway light switch. Grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the unlit living room. Instinctively, we crouched low, moving on panther feet across the tile.
Our feet hit carpet. I couldn"t see a thing in the sudden darkness. A streetlamp two doors up gave no light to the room. I stumbled after Melissa, clutching my purse to my chest-and praying.
Somewhere in the distance footsteps skulked.
THIRTY-TWO.
JUNE 2004.
By the second week of working in Baxter"s real estate office, Melissa"s dreams of her mother"s death came less often. But they were no less vivid when they did invade her sleep. The blood on the trailer"s kitchen floor, the gash in her mother"s forehead, the wild and furious reality that the woman whom she hated, loved, hated was gone. Gone. Such relief from that stunning knowledge. Such abject fear.
But Melissa"s past life was fading. Almost like she was two people-the Melissa before coming to the Jacksons" house, and the Melissa after.
"Baxter Jackson"s office." Melissa answered the ringing phone at her small desk in the corner of Baxter"s large office. As the top-selling realtor in the firm, he claimed the most square feet. His desk faced away from hers so he could look out over the surrounding hills. In June, with no rain since early May, the hills had turned brown.
Although Melissa"s desk faced a plain wall, she didn"t mind a bit. She was a real estate a.s.sistant! Unlicensed, sure, but she"d change that as soon as she could. Melissa saw herself working with Baxter well into the future-until he taught her everything he could. Then she"d strike out on her own.
"Is the man himself around?" asked a male voice on the line. Melissa recognized it at once. Chief Eddington. Melissa"s chin raised.
"He"s here, Mr. Eddington, but he stepped out of the office for a minute. May I have him call you right back?" Her voice sounded the utmost in professional.
"Ah, you knew me. Who"s this?"
"Melissa."
"Melissa! Baxter"s got you working there now?"
"Yes, sir." And I"m good at it too.
"Well, that oughtta keep you out of trouble." The chief"s voice held a hint of tease. All the same Melissa"s eyes narrowed.
"Oh, you can be a.s.sured of that."
Movement on Melissa"s right caught her attention. Baxter was entering the office. He wore a gray suit and coral tie today. As always he held himself upright and confident. Every day Melissa worked for the man she became more convinced he could move mountains. Everybody in this whole building thought he walked on water.
"Hold on a moment, sir," she said into the receiver, then pulled it from her ear and placed her hand over the mouthpiece. "Chief Eddington."
"Put him through on line one."
Melissa did as she was told and hung up.
Baxter picked up the phone at his ma.s.sive desk and settled into his black leather chair. "Wayne, my man." He listened a moment. "They what?" Irritation clipped his voice. Baxter swiveled his chair toward Melissa and held up his index finger-Melissa"s signal to leave him alone in the office for the call. He did not look happy.
Melissa rose and picked up the flyer she needed to run off in the copy room down the hall. Leaving the office, she shut the door behind her.
She knew better than to ask about the calls Baxter took alone. They didn"t happen often. When they did it was always some businessman on the line-or Chief Eddington. Never a woman. Baxter had never done anything to make Melissa think he was running around on Linda. Melissa had wondered. If he shoved his wife around at home, what else might he do in private? But she"d seen nothing.
Disappointing in a way, Melissa thought as she positioned the flyer she"d created on the copy machine gla.s.s. Because she never would have told a soul. It would have given her one more opportunity to prove to Baxter how loyal she was.
The machine chugged, spitting out its copies. Melissa stood back, arms crossed, and waited.
Truth was, part of her would have been crushed to discover Baxter was running around.
Five minutes later, copying done, she gathered the papers and returned to Baxter"s office. She could see through the large window that he was no longer on the phone.
Melissa entered and crossed to his desk. She laid the stack of flyers neatly upon it. This close she could smell his aftershave.
He frowned up at her, as if still upset by the phone call. Then smiled. "Chief Eddington says I"d better watch out for you. Or next thing I know, you"ll be outselling me in real estate."
The chief said that?
Melissa made a sound through her teeth. "I"m not even licensed."
"You will be someday."
"And I"m going to work with you, right? You"ll teach me everything."
"Sure. Long as you cut me in on your deals."
She spread her hands. "What I have is yours."
Immediately Melissa"s body flushed with heat. She wanted to melt through the floor. She hadn"t meant her answer to sound like that. But she would not show her embarra.s.sment. Forcing herself to hold Baxter"s gaze, she gave him a shrug and an innocent smile.
His eyes locked with hers. An expression of surprise flitted across his face. Followed by one of hunger.
Melissa knew that look.
Her heart did a little stutter step. Part of her couldn"t believe it. The other part, deep inside, had known all along.
Her left fingers curled into her palm. What did she want to happen next?
The moment ballooned, then stretched...stretched...Still Baxter surveyed Melissa-until her heart sizzled...splayed open under the heat of his stare. Until she could take...no...more...
Baxter blinked.
The balloon popped.
Abruptly he turned back to his listings.
THIRTY-THREE.
FEBRUARY 2010.
In the darkness Melissa and I crouched at the end of a sofa. Somewhere close by, the living room gave way to the dining room through an arched entryway. That much I had seen when the light was on. I couldn"t see it now.
Melissa balanced beside me, one hand on my arm. She knew the house. I had to follow her lead. We didn"t dare talk. We hardly dared breathe.
Questions flailed in my mind. Who was here? What kind of trouble had Melissa gotten herself into?
A cautious step hit the tiled entryway.
Melissa edged forward, making no sound. I stayed right behind, scared that I would knock into furniture, create a disturbance that would give us away.
In the dining room we crept by the wall. My adjusting eyesight could dimly make out a long table and chairs to our right. If I could see them, surely someone entering the room could see our movement.
The entryway light burst on.
Melissa surged through the rest of the dining room, through an opening into the kitchen. Light spilled from the front door area, past the den and up the hall, diffusing at the kitchen"s entrance. Cool air filtered from the back of the room. I could barely see the opened sliding door.
The house"s layout formed a circle. Any minute now the intruder could appear from the dining room.
Unless he thought we"d fled to the den and upstairs.
Maybe it was just a burglar. Maybe he didn"t want to hurt us at all.
But Melissa"s horrified expression, her immediate reaction had screamed that he did.
Melissa pushed me around a central cooking island and down behind it. She scurried without noise toward the kitchen table, yanked up a purse. She plunged her hand inside.
It came up with a handgun.
Melissa swiveled toward the open sliding gla.s.s door, motioning me to follow. I rose from a crouch-and movement from the dining room caught my eye. I gasped, turned. Melissa spun around.
A man appeared in the kitchen doorway. Dressed in black right down to gloves, his face in a ski mask. He raised a gun. I hit the floor.
Somebody fired.
THIRTY-FOUR.