Beach Thriller(102)

“No,” I say weakly. “I stabbed that asshole with a bottle, not scissors.”

Tommy perks up. “Yeah? I don’t think so. We have two stabbing victims. Seems like the woman was cut by some pretty sharp glass. Are you admitting to injuring her? Maybe trying to kill her?”

A woman? None of this makes sense. I’m so confused, my head aches even more.

“This young girl is in no shape to speak with the police right now,” Dr. Hill interjects, placing himself between me and Officer Asshat. “Please hold off on your questions until she’s medically cleared at the hospital.”

Dr. Hill looks pleased with himself as the cop gives him a defiant stare, but then saunters off obediently in the other direction when the doctor doesn’t back down.

“Sorry about that,” Dr. Hill says. “Some people have their priorities all wrong. How are you feeling, Jade?” For a moment, the warmth in his voice comforts me. He rolls up his sleeves and reaches to check my IV.

In an instant, my body and mind separate again. Suddenly I’m thrust back in time to when Conrad grabbed me from behind, whipped me over his shoulder, and smashed my head into the doorframe before carrying me down the tower stairs to my wine cellar prison. What I remember most about the attacker was his watch—and I’m seeing that watch again, right here, right now—deep black face under domed crystal, slim gold minute hands, a band with tightly woven links.

I lift my gaze to meet the eyes of the person wearing it. Dr. Hill.

It all comes back to me now in a great rush—Baxter’s closet, how he kept multiples of the things he loved, and Dr. Hill was into vintage everything. Maeve even let him have the run of the closet before I got involved. Could I have had my attacker all wrong?

He smiles down at me. My eyes flicker back to his watch, then up to him, and something in my expression must change because I see his face fall.

I twitch, reflexively pulling away from his touch. “Was it you?” I ask.

Awareness blossoms in his eyes, and then something new—fear.

“It was you,” I say.

He backs away from the stretcher.

I lift myself onto my elbows. My chest expands as I breathe in as much air as possible. Then my voice pierces the night, erupting from me like a burst of lava. I shout as loud as I can: “It’s him—Dr. Hill. He’s the one who took me!”

I point at my attacker.

Dr. Hill doesn’t hesitate, not for a second. He takes off running.

I can’t move. All I can do is keep screaming as the night swallows him whole.





Chapter 67

Holly




Holly heard Jade’s screams, but for a moment, an irrational fear kept her rooted in place. She worried that if she left her sister, even for a second, Anna might vanish and never be seen again.

But it was Anna who encouraged Holly. “Go! Go!” she urged. “Protect Jade. And here, take this.” Anna pulled a cold steel blade from her pocket and pressed it into Holly’s hand.

Holly gripped the handle hard. She sprang to her feet, turning toward Jade’s scream.

“Dr. Hill—he’s getting away.”

Following Jade’s finger, Holly turned just in time to see Dr. Hill heading toward the driveway, where the fountain kept spewing water as if this were just a normal party.

She chased after him. Her legs ached. Shock and stress drained her strength, but Jade’s cries fueled her resolve.

Anna’s plea did the same. “Protect Jade,” she called again.

Holly pieced it together. Dr. Hill had been Jade’s abductor, not Conrad. How Jade made the connection didn’t matter; she couldn’t let him escape. Holly replayed the scuffle in the tower from a different perspective. Had Conrad truly lost it? Was Dr. Hill Elizabeth’s hero or her would-be assassin?

The answer was fifty feet away, and the gap was widening. Holly ran awkwardly after him, yelling for anyone’s help, for someone to block Hill, slow him down, but crowds that had come up from the beach to observe the commotion froze like deer in headlights.

Mustering every bit of power she had, Holly pushed herself forward, but it was useless. He was too fast. Her lungs burned as her leg muscles tightened. With surprising grace, Holly hurdled a folding chair, wove around a table that Maeve had set out for gift bags, and zigzagged between guests as if they were posts to dodge. Still, the few yards between them felt like miles.

Dr. Hill was almost to the circular driveway. Police and fire trucks took up most of the available parking, but there was room for a fancy antique sports car that appeared to be his chosen destination.

Holly’s lungs struggled for air. Her pace slowed. Damn it. He was escaping. She cramped at the worst possible moment, her leg seizing up. She couldn’t go on. The pain was overwhelming. Her leg buckled beneath her.

The cops didn’t understand, didn’t know they had to catch him.

In her peripheral vision, Holly saw a figure darting out of the darkness. Conrad. He ran hunched over, hands cuffed behind his back, his head tilted like a battering ram. Was he escaping as well? Great. Men were always getting away with something.

But instead of running into the woods, Conrad turned toward Dr. Hill and charged. The angle wasn’t ideal, but Conrad’s speed was impressive given his injuries. A few seconds before Dr. Hill reached the waiting car in the driveway, Conrad threw himself on the ground in front of his feet.