Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 70628 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 283(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70628 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 283(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
20
ASPEN
I’m still holding my gun. I’ve been hoping Buck would bring his out, but he hasn’t.
I kind of understand why.
I probably shouldn’t have pulled mine out, but I did, so it’s too late to back down now.
Plus, it gave me a chance to take off my shirt and force Nancy to look at my scars as well.
These two…
Whatever they have between them, it’s not love. Why the hell are they even together?
Fucking Taylor bursts into tears again.
Nancy seems to be a little stronger. Icy, even. “I suppose it was bound to happen,” she says.
Buck frowns. “Gee, and you went to all the trouble to change your name and everything.”
Nancy twists her lips. “I don’t suppose it would matter to you if I told you there isn’t a day that I don’t regret what we did?”
I scoff. “Absolutely right. It doesn’t matter to me.”
“Who killed Gloria?” This from Buck.
Nancy shakes her head. “Neither of us had anything to do with that.”
“For God’s sake, Nancy. Tell them the fucking truth. We didn’t do the deed.”
“Right.” A slight shudder racks through Nancy. “But we know who did. And we didn’t… We didn’t think they’d be killed!”
“Who?” Buck demands.
And this time he brings out his gun.
He points it at Nancy, and she gets noticeably more nervous now that there’s a gun at her head.
“A guy.”
Buck holds the gun firm on Nancy. “I’m afraid we’re going to need you to be a little more specific.”
“He goes by Chris Pollack, but that’s not his real name.”
“Ice Man,” I say, my voice low.
“Ice Man?” Taylor’s voice shakes.
“One of the men who went to the island. He tormented a friend of mine. And now you’re saying he’s the one who killed Gloria?”
“Most likely the one who sent me to the hospital as well,” Buck says.
“Some people,” I say, “just can’t leave well enough alone.”
“Tell me why we shouldn’t shoot both of you in the head right now,” Buck says.
“I’m going to throw up,” Taylor says.
“Are you?” I say. “Let me tell you all the times I threw up on that island. After having unthinkable things done to me. Things that resulted in these scars. A degenerate bit my nipple off, Nancy. Shattered my leg so I’ll never jump again. So you can have your fucking position. I can no longer jump. And some of those things? They may not show on the outside, but they scarred me the most horrifically.”
“I’m so sorry.” Taylor covers her face with her hands. “It was all Nancy’s idea!”
“Seriously, bitch?” From Nancy.
My jaw drops. So much for this so-called marriage. This is more than a lovers’ spat. “What the hell happened to you?” I ask Nancy. “I remember you being a nice person.”
“Yeah? You came in out of nowhere and took the spot that was meant for Gloria. You bumped me down to third place. Guess I’m a damned good actress.”
“My God…” I force my arm—I’m still holding my piece—to remain steady.
“I have to go to the bathroom.” Taylor’s hand goes over her mouth.
“You’re not going anywhere,” I say.
“Please… I’m going to be sick…”
I rise. “Fine. I’ll go with you.”
I follow her as she walks down a small hallway to a bathroom.
I keep the gun trained on Taylor. “I guess I can watch you throw up.”
“No. Please…” She points to the small window above the bathtub. “There’s no way I could get out that window.”
“Somehow I think you’ll find a way.”
“Believe me. I can’t. It doesn’t even open.”
Fine,” I huff. “Empty your stomach and then get the hell back out here.”
I leave her alone, and then I listen intently, my ear to the door.
I expect to hear retching sounds when—
I jerk when a gunshot rings out.
I toss the door open.
Taylor is slumped over the toilet, blood everywhere, and her brains are splattered onto the wall and floor of the bathroom.
I throw up in the sink.
I don’t even feel the nausea, it just overtakes me, and I retch.
Buck comes running in, dragging Nancy with him.
“What the fuck?”
“She must’ve had a gun in here,” I say, swallowing back another heave.
“Oh, baby. Are you all right?”
“No. Buck. I am so far from all right.” I grip the edge of the sink with my left hand, the gun still in my right but pointed at the floor.
“This looks pretty good to me,” Nancy says. “The two of you holding guns in my home. And now my wife’s dead? Should be easy to convince someone that you killed her.”
I turn and regard Nancy—who I thought, all those years ago, was a nice person. This is her reaction? To her wife, dead by her own hand? To her bathroom drenched in the brains and skull fragments of the woman she supposedly loves?
Nancy Mosely is a sociopath.
Nausea creeps up on me again.
“Get a grip,” Buck says to Nancy. “Forensics will come out and will determine that first, the bullet came from Taylor’s gun, not one of ours, and second, they’ll determine that she died by her own hand based on the angles by which she was shot and the bullet trajectory.”