Stephen Livingstone stepped into the dim light thrown by my little flashlight. He held a solid Maglite in his right hand, but he’d switched it off.
My heart rate did not settle, and the hairs on the back of my neck did not relax. Fluffy lunged for him, snapping and snarling. I gripped the leash tightly. I swallowed. “Hi!” I said, trying to sound cheerful. “Goodness. You scared me there. Out for a walk in the marsh, are you? Not a good night for it.” I pulled at the leash. Fluffy resisted, but I was bigger and stronger. I dragged her away, inch by protesting inch. “Still, some people like the atmosphere, or so they say. Spooky, right? Like in The Hound of the Baskervilles. I saw corpse candles in the marsh one night last October, around Halloween. It was a night much like this one, come to think of it, although a bit colder.” I shoved my free hand into my pocket. It came up empty, and I stifled a curse. I’d put my phone on the table when I got in from work.
Stephen said nothing. He simply stared at me, his eyes dark, unemotional pools in the shadows of his face.
“I’d invite you in,” I said, “but it’s late, and I’m tired. “Come on, Fluffy.”
He spoke at last, his voice low and threatening. “You really don’t know to mind your own business, do you?”
“Sure I do. I’m minding my own business right now. I’m going inside. Me and the dog. Straight to bed. This is where I live, believe it or not.”
“I know you do. I saw you at the hotel this morning, talking to Evangeline and her fat friend.”
“Yup. That was me. Evangeline’s a good friend of my mom’s.”
As I talked, I edged slowly backward. Stephen matched me, step for step. The fog shifted constantly. One moment I could see him clearly, and the next he faded into tendrils of mist. He might disappear, but I could hear his voice and feel the sheer menace emanating from him.
Fluffy continued barking. I continued backing up. I continued chatting inanely. The back of my foot touched the bottom of the stairs. I held the leash in one hand and my flashlight, focused on the ground, in the other. The mist swirled around us, but I could make out Stephen in the flash of light from high above us. The light went out, and then it came on again. I braced myself. I breathed. I was ready the moment the light went into its 22.5 second dormancy, and I turned and ran up the stairs. I grabbed for the doorknob, but at that moment Fluffy dashed for safety between, of all places, my legs. The leash wrapped around my right ankle. I stumbled and then Stephen was on me, grabbing my shoulders, pulling me away from the door. I dropped the leash and kicked, but my flailing foot met nothing but air. I screamed. Fluffy barked. Stephen’s arms were tight around my chest as he dragged me away.
“What are you doing!” I yelled. “Let me go. You’re making a mistake.”
“No,” he breathed in my ear. “You’re the one who’s made a mistake. A fatal one, I’m sorry to say.”
I kept kicking and struggling. His grip around my upper chest was so tight I was having trouble breathing.
And then, suddenly, Stephen cried out in surprise and shock, and I was propelled forward. I managed, thank heavens, to keep my footing as well as my senses and whirled around. He’d slipped on the bottom step, damp from the mist, and fallen.
He wasn’t, unfortunately, knocked out, and he recovered quickly. His hand shot out and grabbed at my leg. I kicked as hard as I could, and I felt a satisfying jolt and heard him grunt. He started to stand up, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to get the door open and shut behind me before he was on me again. I leapt off the steps and ran for the marsh. Fast, light footsteps pounded the ground behind me. Fluffy.
I switched off my flashlight. The dog barked. I tried to hush her without making any noise. It was a warm summer’s night, and I knew my way around out here. If I had to, I could stay hidden; I’d be fine until daylight, when people began to arrive. Otherwise I could try to make my way through the marsh to the highway and flag down a passing car.
But I didn’t have much chance of staying hidden with a small hysterical dog next to me.
“Lucy!” A disembodied voice drifted toward me. “I want to talk to you, that’s all. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I couldn’t see in the dark, so I stumbled, and then I grabbed you inappropriately. I’m sorry about that.”
As the mist shifted, I could see Stephen’s light moving away from the bulk of the lighthouse, coming toward me. I tried to wave Fluffy away. She would not be discouraged, so I bent down and scooped her up. I put my hand around her muzzle, and she fell quiet. She whimpered, and I stroked the back of her neck softly. I could feel the rapid beating of her small heart. Mine was going just as fast.
“I can’t stand yappy little dogs myself,” Stephen said. “I went around to Rich’s house one day to bring him some papers to sign. Evangeline was away, and I told Rich I’d strangle the miserable mutt if he wanted me to. He said thanks but no thanks.”
I slipped to my right, keeping to the soft marsh grasses. The Maglite focused straight ahead. Fluffy yipped, and the light swung around.
“My dad told Detective Watson about you,” I called into the dark. “He knows you’ve been helping Rich embezzle money from the firm. Dad’s opening the books to the police. They’ll have all the proof they need soon. You should make a run for it while you can.”
“What can I say? I’ll admit, I fell under Rich Lewiston’s influence. I mean, he was a powerful man, right? Knows all the right people, belongs to all the right clubs, has the right politicians in his pocket. I let him convince me to help him out of a couple of jams. Poor me, boy from the wrong side of the tracks, impressed by the rich and powerful. I thought I was helping the firm. If I’d known what Rich was truly up to, I would have told the senior partners. Right away.”
“You can try that story on the police, but they won’t believe you. And even if they do, that’s not much of an excuse for killing him.”
“Me? Kill Rich? Why would I do that? I was nowhere near Nags Head on Monday night. Why would I be? I called the office and told them I’d come down with a sudden cold on the weekend so I had to stay home Monday. Rich didn’t come around to my apartment Sunday evening, drunk out of his tiny, very tiny, mind to say he was going to tell Millar everything and he wasn’t going to wait until Millar got back from his daughter’s engagement party. I didn’t try to convince him not to do anything rash. I didn’t follow him when he left my place and wait outside his house to see if he really was going to go through with it.”
Now that I was no longer panicking and Stephen was no longer threatening, Fluffy had settled down. She tried to wiggle out of my arms, but when I wouldn’t let go, she let out a contented sigh and snuggled close.
“I knew Millar was in Nags Head. That was no secret. Ricky told me his mother was determined to barge in uninvited on Millar’s daughter’s engagement party and try to get her to leave her intended and marry Ricky. You might want to know, Lucy, Ricky didn’t think that was such a great idea. He came down here with his mom to try to keep her from doing anything stupid. I wasn’t watching the Lewiston house Sunday night, and I didn’t see Rich stagger out in the early hours of Monday morning, throw his suitcase into his car, and drive out of town, heading south. And, because I didn’t see that, I didn’t head for Nags Head myself. Are you still out there, Lucy? You’re probably thinking of making your way to the highway. That’s a lot of ground to cover. In the dark. Trying to be quiet. The dog’s finally stopped barking. That can’t last much longer.”
Holding Fluffy, not daring to turn on my flashlight, I picked my way carefully through the marsh grasses. The fog covered all traces of moon and stars, and I couldn’t see a blasted thing. On the other hand, that meant Stephen couldn’t see me either.
I stepped on a dead branch. It snapped with a sound as loud and sharp as a gunshot.
“Oh, you’re over there,” Stephen said, in a voice calmer and far closer than was good for me. Still, as long as he was talking, he wasn’t killing me. Clearly, he was so impressed with his own cleverness that he had to tell someone all about it.
“You’re wondering why I might have wanted Rich to die, as that would inevitably lead to an examination of his records, which would in turn incriminate me. Truth be told, Lucy, I didn’t much care if Rich lived or died, but his timing wasn’t good for me. I was taking my own time, being careful, scrubbing any traces of my involvement in some of his schemes out of the records, moving my money slowly and carefully so it couldn’t be traced. The records are mostly clean now, but I didn’t need Rich blabbing the whole story to Millar before I’m ready to take my leave of them all.
“You’re also wondering how I might have gotten Rich to the restaurant that night, if I’d wanted to that is. If I wanted to, I’d have sent him a note, asking him to meet me. No one ever said Richard Lewiston Junior was smart. I wouldn’t have been able to use my phone, didn’t want anyone tracing it. I couldn’t use a burner; he wouldn’t answer a number he didn’t recognize. I didn’t tuck the note under his windshield wipers when he was paying for gas. No need to sign it; he’d know who it was from.”
Stephen was right about one thing: it was a long way to the highway. Was the mist thinning? I feared it was. I’d soon be dreadfully exposed out here in the marsh. I needed to get to the shelter of the trees before the light of the moon broke through.
“You might be thinking it was a coincidence that I asked—didn’t ask, I mean—Rich to meet me at the same restaurant you were having dinner at. I never trust to coincidence, Lucy. I checked online to see which were the nicest restaurants near Evangeline’s hotel. The sort of places she would go to. The name Jake’s rang a bell. Ricky had said something several months ago about Millar and Suzanne going to her niece’s wedding in Nags Head. Did you know Evangeline tried to wrangle an invitation, but Suzanne was having none of it? It was a small family celebration with the reception at the fiancé’s restaurant, a place called Jake’s. Ricky got quite a hoot out of his mom being snubbed like that.
“You never know what apparently insignificant bits of information are going to be useful someday, Lucy. That’s why I never forget anything. Rich appreciated that about me. Anyway, if I wanted to kill Rich, which I didn’t, that’s the way I would have gone about it. I’d have arranged to meet him at the restaurant where his family and associates were dining. A bunch of rich, entitled people, some of them lawyers, no less, being questioned by small-town hick cops confuses the waters. If I had been involved in Rich’s nasty little schemes, I would have had a tough decision to make while I finished moving my money. Stay at the Boston office and help Millar sort through the accounts, or come back here to keep an eye on things knowing that Rich’s records are such a mess even Millar would need time to trace anything back to me. Enough idle chatter. Got you!”
A bright light shone directly into my face, blinding me. A hand reached out of the fog and seized my arm. I screamed and dropped Fluffy. The dog fell in a chorus of frightened barks, and I was thrown to the ground next to her.
Stephen was on me, his hands around my throat, his weight pressing me down. I scratched at his arms and tried to reach his face. He grinned down at me, his face a horrific mask in the harsh light thrown by his flashlight. I kicked and thrashed, but he didn’t let go. The pressure increased.
Connor.
I would never see the house Louise Jane had found for us.
Stephen let out a howl of pain, and his eyes opened wide in shock. I felt his body move as he kicked out at something behind him and the pressure on my throat relaxed. I sucked in a breath, gathered all the strength I could, and shoved at him. He fell to one side, and I rolled away. He didn’t try to stop me, and I scrambled to my feet.
I looked down to see Stephen lying on his back, screaming, his pant leg torn, his leg bleeding, his hands up to protect his face as Fluffy, sweet little Fluffy, lunged for his throat.