AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Satisfied, he crept inside, through a basement window in the garage he’d left open earlier while the handyman was working with the electrical panel located on the back wall. Through the connecting door, he stepped inside the cellar, passing by a washer and dryer on his way to the bottom of the stairs, where he paused and again listened for any signs of life in the three stories overhead.
Nothing.
The house was quiet aside from the soft rumble of the furnace and, as he passed by the first floor, the hum of a refrigerator, the ticking of a clock, and rhythmic snoring of the old lady, whom he’d seen occupied the first-floor bedroom. And the Asian caretaker was still in the parlor, where, it seemed, she camped out overnight in case the woman in the bedroom needed her.
That was a bit of a problem, but not one he couldn’t handle.
The bigger issue was the man. Noah Scott.
Last night, Scott had spent the night here, and tonight, as well, he’d stayed over, which was a piece of bad luck. Still, he was running out of time. The two of them had been at his house, poking around, trying to guilt Vera into talking.
He crept up the back stairs, passing what appeared to be an empty second floor. He’d been watching the house, and no one ever seemed to stay on the guest level, which he thought was a good sign—more space and insulation between the first floor and the third.
His plan was simple: with a silencer on his pistol, he would sneak into Remmi Storm’s bedroom and shoot the man first, as he might be stronger, could more easily overpower him; then he would level the gun at Remmi and shoot. He felt the tiniest bit of hesitation at killing her, but it quickly withered. He’d do what he had to do. She was a problem.
Bang, bang—and out. No muss, no fuss. He’d take the exterior stairs and drive off in the Kris Kringle van, then ditch it down by the waterfront somewhere and hike to the nearest train station. Take the first morning train to an area where he’d parked his SUV.
The only real hitch was Noah Scott. He was the wild card, and, of course, he had to contend with his own damned leg, which hurt like a son of a bitch. He hoped the wound was going to be all right. As careful as he’d been, he still risked infection, especially while camping out in a dive like the Bayside, which he thought should be torched rather than cleaned.
That little fantasy warmed him.
He’d love to pour the gasoline and light the fire that would send that fleabag of a motel into a conflagration, with flames reaching to the sky.
But not now.
Tonight, he had a job to do.
He needed to concentrate and ignore the throbbing in his thigh muscles as he silently climbed.
In a short while, he would be home free.
Unless Vera talked.
He worried about that. Her Christian values were always at odds with her practicality. But she’d see the light.
She had to.
If they both were going to survive.
If not, he’d have to take care of her, too.
Yes, she was his wife, the mother of his sons. Yes, at one point he’d thought he loved her, but that had been years ago, before all the nagging and finger pointing and reminders of his past mistakes. There was no way he could ever atone for his sins. Not even with what he was planning now. Even that wouldn’t vanquish Vera’s recriminations and her continual reminders of how he’d never really lived up to her impossible standards.
Despite everything else, it was his seduction of her sister, Edie, that had been his biggest and most unforgivable sin. Who would have thought that a few weeks of passion would have changed the course of all their lives forever?
But he couldn’t think of that now.
He needed intense concentration, razor-sharp precision.
On the landing between the second and third floors, he paused, listening. Did he hear something on one of the floors below? Some movement? A disturbance in the quietude? Or was that his imagination?
He waited.
Aside from his own breathing and the rush of blood in his ears, his pulse elevating with the adrenaline pumping through his veins, he heard nothing. No signs of anyone stirring.
Noiselessly, he slid the pistol from one pocket of the jumpsuit, then eased out the silencer from the other pocket and snapped it into place. It gave off a soft click, but the sound was barely audible. Making certain the clip was in the magazine, he started mounting the final half flight to the nearly dark upper floor.
He crouched, not wanting his head to appear over the top rail, but as expected, no one surprised him.
