Authors: Carlene Thompson

Tags: #suspense

Nowhere to Hide (43 page)

“Yes! A real man of character could have loved me the way I should have been loved!”

In a panic, Marissa thought she’d run out of things to say. She was reaching the end of her endurance. Then she thought of the person who was the crux of the situation.

“Have you thought about what Dillon will do if you kill me?” Marissa asked, smirking. “He thinks I’m his sister and he loves me. He’s probably convinced himself I love him, too, so if you murder me, he’ll hunt you down. You know he will. You’ll have
nowhere
to hide from
him.
He’s smart and relentless and totally without a conscience. He’s more clever than even you and he’s younger than you. He’ll run you to the ground and make you pay for killing me, Jean.”

“He won’t find me.”

“Yes, he will,” Marissa said with slow, quiet certainty as she touched the dark, hard corner under the sheet. She even moved it slightly. A gun. God, Mitch had a gun tucked under the sheets. For a moment, Marissa thought she might faint from surprise and relief; then she saw Jean looking intensely at her eyes. “He won’t have any pity for you, no matter how many sad stories you tell him,” Marissa said coldly. “He’ll look at you and see only the ugly, possessive, conniving murderer of his sister!”

“No!” Jean screamed. “I’m not those things, you little bitch.” She raised the gun and pointed it toward Marissa. “I’m a good woman with an evil husband who I’ve kept alive so he could see me kill the man he
wishes
was his son and the spawn of his and that whore who was your mother. He’ll live to see it—”

Mitch rose in his bed and let out a bloodcurdling scream Marissa knew she’d remember until she died. She raised the gun, cocked it just like Mitch had shown her many years ago, and pointed it at Jean just as Jean pointed her gun at Marissa. They fired at the same time, the noise sounding as if the whole world were shattering. No one in the room moved. Then slowly, Jean toppled onto Eric, blood from her head spilling over his chest. Marissa stood still for a moment, then slowly looked around at the small hole in the wall a good foot to her left.

As soon as she realized she was still alive, she ran to Eric. She pushed Jean off him and took his face in her hands. It was white—even his lips. “Eric,” she cried. “Eric!” But he didn’t open his eyes; he didn’t make a sound.

Then she heard the thin wails of police cars and ambulances as they turned into the slanting driveway of the Farrell house.

Epilogue

Marissa and Eric sat in the Grays’ family room, watching the New Year’s Eve festivities on television. Catherine and James had gone to a small New Year’s Eve party at James’s parents’ home. “My sister is turning into a party girl,” Marissa said. “I’m beginning to think I should worry.”

Eric, his leg swathed in a cast that almost reached the trunk of his body, grinned at her. “I think your sister has finally gotten her mind off her studies long enough to have some fun.”

“She has another semester of work to do before she gets her license.”

“You know something? You sound like she’s twelve and you’re her mother. Relax, Marissa. Catherine knows what she’s doing. I think she proved that last week.”

Marissa frowned. “I’m glad I didn’t leave her a note saying we were going to the Farrell house. She and James would have walked into that nightmare.”

“And they wouldn’t have been able to save us. Not to be selfish or anything.”

“Oh, of course not, sweetie.” Marissa went back to frowning. “But we were gone; there was no note; they couldn’t reach me; no one could reach you. The cops couldn’t even raise you on your walkie-talkie. Robbie knew where we were going and, bless her, harangued about there being trouble at Mitch’s until everyone gave up and came on what they thought was probably a wild-goose chase.”

“I was the hero last week. This week is Robbie’s turn.”

“Her father will be
so
proud of her, not that he isn’t already.”

Lindsay pranced into the living room wearing a party hat and holding a stuffed animal in her mouth. “I can’t believe she’s not fighting to remove that hat you brought her,” Marissa said.

“She knows it’s New Year’s Eve and we’re having our own, private party. Besides, you and I are wearing them.”

“And looking like complete fools. Anyway, thank you for her Christmas present, too. I think the one animal she didn’t have was a stuffed panda. She loves it.”

“Let’s make certain she doesn’t love it too much. I’d hate for you to take her for a walk and have her go in hot pursuit of what she thinks is her panda only to find out it’s a skunk.”

Marissa started laughing. “Given the luck we’ve had lately, it’s bound to happen.”

Eric tightened the arm he’d draped across her shoulders. “I don’t think our luck has been so bad. We’re…seeing each other again.” Marissa noticed he was careful not to say they were “back together.” “We’ve discovered what was wrong with Gretchen. We have her ring. Mom was so grateful to get it.”

Marissa sighed. “Even though your parents have the ring again, I still feel guilty because we didn’t tell them about Gretchen’s essential tremor.”

“We will soon, when they’ve gotten over the shock of everything that’s happened.”

“Such as you being alive. Eric, you were so close to death from blood loss.”

“But you, my darling one, saved me. You stood up and talked so loud and so fast and said such awful things, you knocked Jean for a loop. Then you came up with a
gun.
”

“Mitch always loved to put those little secret hiding places in the things he made, like that little table by his bed. I guess Jean didn’t know he had a gun hidden in there, but he got it when she left the room to call and tell us he was dying. It must have been a tremendous effort for him.”

“Jean must have forgotten both to search the table and that you’re a good shot thanks to Mitch’s lessons. You saved the day.”

“I didn’t save him.”

“Nobody could save Mitch, Marissa. But he lived two more days, enough to know that you and I were all right. Enough to tell you a few things you still didn’t know.”

Marissa nodded, then made a decision. “He lived long enough to tell me that after Dillon killed Gretchen, he knew what he had to do. He told Dillon he’d get him out of the city, told him to go fishing with Buddy, hit him on the head, and Mitch would be waiting in a car in the woods on the other side of the Orenda. And he was. Then deep in the woods where they were far away from everyone, he killed Dillon.” Eric looked at her in astonishment. “He killed his own son before Dillon could do any more harm. That was one secret Jean wasn’t able to pry out of Mitch.”

“My God, Marissa. All this time people thought Dillon was alive!”

Marissa shook her head. “Well, he wasn’t. And although I know how horrible Dillon was, I still almost cry when I think of what Mitch had to do,” Marissa said.

“That’s because you know you were the only person in the world Dillon loved—his sister, or so he thought.” Eric shook his head slowly. “I don’t suppose Mitch told you where he buried Dillon.”

“No.” Marissa gave Eric a slanting look. Mitch
hadn’t
told her where he’d buried Dillon, but she knew, maybe by instinct, maybe because of the beautiful photograph of the Gray’s Island church on the old desk in Mitch’s room. She was certain Mitch had waited until night and taken his son’s body to Gray’s Island. Dillon lay buried there, probably near the church, and in less than a hundred years the entire island would be underwater.

Eric swallowed hard and asked almost warily, “Are you sure you’re not Mitch’s daughter?”

She smiled. “I’m sure. I’ve spent quite a bit of time in hospital rooms the last three years. Being a nosy journalist, I couldn’t help taking a look at charts.” Eric raised an eyebrow. “I have AB blood. My mother had A and my father had B. Mitch had O. I couldn’t have type AB if there was an O in the mix.” Marissa sighed. “I knew anyway. My parents had a true love story—the kind of thing Jean wanted with Mitch. It wasn’t possible for them, Jean being Jean. Maybe Mitch wasn’t capable of constancy, either. My parents were, though. They had the kind of love I want to have someday.”

“Maybe you already have it.” Before she could say a word, Eric glanced at his watch and boomed, “Enough of this depressing talk. It’s three minutes until midnight!”

Marissa jumped up, ran into the kitchen, and took the champagne out of the refrigerator. She put it on a tray with a corkscrew, two champagne flutes, and a piece of beef jerky for Lindsay. When she rushed back in, Lindsay and Eric sat close together, both looking absurd in their party hats, both avidly watching television.

Marissa set the tray in front of Eric and he went to work on the champagne bottle as people on the television counted down. The champagne bubbled over when Eric pulled out the cork. He quickly poured two glasses and Marissa tossed the beef jerky on the floor, where Lindsay immediately went after it. Then Eric handed Marissa a glass.

“Four, three, two, one, Happy New Year!” the people on television shouted as the ball dropped in Times Square.

“Happy New Year,” Marissa and Eric said together, looking into each other’s eyes as they each took a sip of champagne.

“To sad endings and happy beginnings,” Eric said.

“You’ll jinx us talking like that.”

He grinned. “I don’t believe in jinxes. I believe in skinny little crooked-toothed girls who grow up to be strong, beautiful, magnificent women.” Lindsay barked loudly. “Even the best dog in the world agrees with me, so I can’t be wrong!”

“I was right. You really are a goof.” Marissa laughed lovingly and pulled him to her for a very long New Year’s kiss.

St. Martin’s Paperbacks Titles
by Carlene Thompson

You Can Run…

If You Ever Tell

Last Seen Alive

Last Whisper

Share No Secrets

If She Should Die

All Fall Down

Black for Remembrance

Since You’ve Been Gone

Don’t Close Your Eyes

In the Event of My Death

Tonight You’re Mine

The Way You Look Tonight

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

NOWHERE TO HIDE

For information address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.

ISBN: 978-0-312-36074-0

St. Martin’s Paperbacks are published by St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.