Beach Thriller(108)
Beach Thriller
vii
Today would be Anna’s last day alive, but she didn’t know it yet. She had no idea her life was in grave danger.
She had accepted that her sister was a no-show. Holly was unreliable on a good day, but there was no time to dwell. Anna had to end things with Conrad, and it had to happen tonight.
Anna replayed the events in her mind as she trudged up the winding road to Miramar. She had a note in her hand, sent by Conrad, inviting her for a romantic rendezvous at the guesthouse. God, how she wished Holly were with her. She wanted nothing more than to fall into Conrad’s arms, to believe all his beautiful lies and promises about their future. But she had to stay strong. She wouldn’t give him the chance to draw her in again. She would end it. She wouldn’t be the other woman. Especially not now. Being pregnant made her decision seem even more urgent—she wanted to raise her child in a clean, honest life.
She held the stone pendant Conrad had given her as a symbol of his love.
“The jade stone has power. It’ll help protect our love.”
But it carried extra meaning because of what it wasn’t. The necklace wasn’t showy; it likely hadn’t cost a fortune, and that was the whole point. With one gift, he was telling her their love would be authentic—down-to-earth and real. The sentiment was what gave it value.
Now, as she approached the gate to Miramar, she wondered if anything Conrad had told her was true.
She entered the code Conrad had given her and slipped through the gate, taking a roundabout path to the guesthouse with its breathtaking ocean views. As she crossed the cool grass, she kept repeating her mantra silently: You can do this, you can do this. It was late August, and the sun was beginning to set a little earlier. The air was starting to shift, a crispness setting in, reminding her that autumn was just around the corner.
The guesthouse stood before her, warm light shining from the windows, tempting her with memories of the love and passion she had felt inside. How naive she had been. Tears welled in her eyes as she began to mourn a relationship that hadn’t yet ended.
She approached, took a deep breath, and slowly turned the door handle. As she stepped inside, she picked up a strong scent of cinnamon. Conrad had set up their usual candles, which flickered brightly in a corner near the kitchen. On the counter, she noticed an open bottle of wine, two crystal wineglasses, and an assortment of her favorite chocolates. He was expecting a romantic evening and had no idea what she had come here to do.
Anna gently closed the door behind her and took off her light summer jacket, hanging it by the door. She moved around the corner, expecting to see Conrad waiting for her. But what she saw froze her in place.
She felt her knees weaken. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Blinking, she tried to clear her vision. The scene in front of her seemed impossible. On the floor, sprawled next to the counter where the wine and chocolates awaited her, was a figure she thought she recognized. She called out quietly, nervously, “Hello … Krystal? Krystal, are you okay?”
Krystal didn’t move.
Anna stepped closer, peering down at the lifeless figure lying on the kitchen floor. She could see the dead woman’s eyes bulging open, gazing up at the ceiling, two glassy windows staring into a void.
Shock and fear erupted in Anna’s gut. A scream rose in her throat, but she clamped her hand over her mouth. Krystal, her former coworker had yellow, rotten-smelling foam covering her mouth.
Anna hadn’t spoken to Krystal since the day Anna lost her job. She didn’t know much about the girl other than that she was now dead. She didn’t need to be a nurse to make that determination. But she still forced herself to check for a pulse just in case, cringing as she placed her fingers on the cool, dead skin covering Krystal’s carotid artery. Nothing. Anna’s world tilted.
What had happened to her? Anna remembered reading somewhere that victims of poisoning often foamed at the mouth. Then she saw it, next to Krystal’s hand, on the cold kitchen floor—a half-eaten chocolate.
Anna got up, legs weak, and examined the candies on the tray. They had been arranged in neat rows on a nice platter, but several pieces were missing. Her hands shook violently as she picked up one of the chocolates, using a napkin out of an abundance of caution. She refused to look down, unable to meet Krystal’s lifeless eyes again.
Holding a chocolate truffle with a decorative swirl up to her eyes, Anna examined it like a gemstone through a jeweler’s loupe. She turned it in her fingers until she saw a tiny pinprick on one side. She gasped.
Anna checked the clock on the gas stove, which was often on the fritz. Conrad should have been here by now. But he wasn’t coming. She was sure of it. He was counting on her to get bored, restless—and then hungry. To pop one, two, maybe three chocolates into her mouth while waiting for him. And then she’d be the one on the ground, not Krystal, with rancid froth coating her mouth.
Poor girl. Anna’s heart broke for her. It had been about a week since she and Conrad had met at the guesthouse. Had Krystal begun staying here? She remembered how she’d asked Holly for a place to crash. The girl was perpetually living on the edge. Perhaps she’d been fired as well and was broke, homeless, and had nowhere else to go. Hiding in the guesthouse on the Carmichael property would seem like a perfect solution to her troubles. Instead, it was the end of all her problems forever.