Girls Like Us(71)

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I WALK UP to the gate, press the buzzer. When I announce my name, the gate swings open. I follow the long drive toward the house. It appears empty. The lights are all off even though the sun is beginning to set. When I hear a stirring in the garden, I pivot. Over the top of a hedgerow, I glimpse movement. Grace is there, digging. She pauses and then straightens up. When she sees me, she smiles.

“Hello, there,” she calls out. She’s wearing only a sweater and a little scarf, tied neatly around her neck. Her hands are covered in gardening gloves; in one, she holds a spade.

“You’re working late.”

“Have to put my gardens to bed for the winter. No rest for the weary.”

“I thought it was ‘no rest for the wicked.’”

Grace raises one eyebrow. “Is it? Oh, my. I’ve been saying it wrong all these years. Would you like to come inside?”

“I’m all right. The fresh air is nice.”

Grace clenches her jaw ever so slightly. “I was sorry to hear about your partner.”

“He wasn’t my partner. He was a friend.”

“So sad. Did the police officers that they arrested take responsibility?”

“No. But we’re building our case.”

“I told you those men were corrupt. You should’ve listened. Of course, at the time, I didn’t realize your father was one of them. In fact, it was your father who came to speak to me about Alfonso Morales, wasn’t it?”

I nod. “It was, yes. He died right before Adriana’s body was found.”

“And so you wanted to close his case for him. How noble of you.” There’s a coldness in her voice that I haven’t heard before. Her eyes, too, have narrowed. They’re an unsettling ice blue. I want to look away, but I don’t. For a few seconds, we face off, just staring at each other in silence.

“You feel that I lied to you,” I prompt.

“No one likes being lied to, Ms. Flynn.”

“I agree. I would argue that I didn’t lie. Merely omitted the facts.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

“Not really. See, you lied to me. You said you hadn’t met Mr. Meachem before. You said you didn’t socialize with him.”

Her body goes rigid. When she speaks, she practically spits. “I do not socialize with that man.”

“You don’t, that’s true. But your husband does. He was over at Mr. Meachem’s on a number of occasions, in fact. Not just here, but also down in Palm Beach.”

“Eliot would never.”

“But he did. We have photos, unfortunately.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Such a sad story. Those girls were his downfall. One tried to extort him. Isn’t that right? And then Adriana, well, that was worse. Eliot got her pregnant. So that was awfully complicated. After everything you did for him. After all you endured to secure his position in the Treasury. How could he do that to you? And he’d done it before, hadn’t he? He’d paid them off before. But this time, because of the baby, it wouldn’t be so easy.”

“That disgusting little bitch got herself pregnant,” Grace snarls. “Eliot didn’t do it. He couldn’t have. He can’t. I told you that. I confided in you.”

“And that’s why it was so enraging, wasn’t it? Because you realized that your husband could get someone pregnant. Just not you. Did he want to keep the baby, Grace? Was he planning to leave you? Adriana’s sister said he used to call her late at night, promising to take care of her. She was so happy right before she died. Is that because she knew Eliot would be there for her?”

Grace lets out a bloodcurdling scream as she lunges for me. It happens so quickly, I don’t react in time. She knocks me to the ground and raises the spade over her head.

I roll to the right, feeling the whir of the spade come down beside my ear. It sinks deep into the earth and sticks there. I see the opportunity and take it.

My fingers close around a rock on the ground. With all my force, I pull it up and smash it to Grace’s temple. There’s a hard, sickening sound as it reverberates off her skull.

“You bitch!” she screams as I hurl my body on top of her. I sit on her torso as she thrashes. She’s tall—nearly six feet—so it takes every fiber of my body to restrain her. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Sarah force her way through the hedgerow. She runs toward us. I glance up, meeting her gaze. For a split second, I stop focusing on Grace. And that’s when I feel it. She sinks a blade into my thigh with all her might.

I fall backward, a lightning bolt of pain coursing through my leg. Grace gets up onto all fours and then pushes herself up onto her knees. She raises the blade again, and this time, she’s aiming for my heart.

A single shot rings out. Grace crumples to the ground. Sarah’s footsteps grow louder. I hear her shouting into her radio, calling for backup. Soon, she is kneeling over me, pulling my torso up into her lap. Grace hasn’t moved. A river of blood spills from her chest and pools in the grass around her body. She’s dead; I can tell by the unnatural way her leg is bent beneath her. I turn away, my chest heaving as I breathe through the pain. The bushes behind me are each neatly wrapped in burlap.

Overhead, the sky is the color of slate. In the distance, I hear the cry of geese and the rush of the tide rolling in and out on the sand. I look up at Sarah and smile.