Betrayal (29 page)

“Welcome to the Silverdale Beach Hotel. How can I help you?”

He looked at her nametag. “Hi, Mimi,” he said. “My friend said she left me a package down at the front desk.”

Mimi smiled again. “Name?” she asked.

Drew leaned against the counter and grinned back. “My friend's or mine?”

“Your name, silly,” she said.

“Theodore Roberts.”

The phone rang and Mimi pointed at him to wait a second. A moment later she hung up and rolled her eyes. “Guests always want something. We are running a hotel, not a drugstore. Hang on a sec while I go look for your package and for some cough syrup.”

She was never going to get that stupid gift card.

Mimi went into the office and Drew hurried behind the counter and jumped onto her computer. He typed in a name. Room 243 came up on the screen.

A KNOCK THUNDERED through the thin door of Brandy Connors Baker's hotel room.

“Room service!” a voice called out.

Brandy looked up from where she was sitting on the bed, its surface covered with her neatly folded clothes and an avalanche of papers. She was in the midst of repacking. She hadn't ordered room service, but the hotel staff had proven themselves incompetent by giving her a street-side room instead of one that looked over the water and Mount Rainier. The stupid young woman at the desk told her that the hotel was full and that there was no way they could move her.

“Don't you know who I am? I'm the mother of Brianna Connors. She was murdered by some freak in Port Gamble and I seriously can't take the stress of that, plus getting a noisy room. Please, dear, move me.”

The girl bit her lip and had clicked away on the computer until she somehow opened up a reserved block of rooms so Brandy could get her new, quieter room with a view.

“Just a minute,” Brandy said with a sigh, getting up from the bed. “I didn't order anything.”

“Complimentary fruit, cheese, and champagne tray,” came a voice from the other side of the door.

Brandy loved champagne. She loved free stuff even better. She flipped the deadbolt, moved the lock to the open position, and swung open the door. Her face fell for a second, before she rebounded with a quick smile.

“How come you didn't answer my texts?” Drew asked, pushing himself inside.

Brandy looked startled, but only for a second. “What texts?” she asked, faking innocence.

Drew, looking sweaty, disheveled, and like he hadn't bathed for days, tore off his jacket and threw it on the chair.

“I sent you about a hundred of them,” he said, looking Brandy over, then glancing around the hotel room. “I wanted to let you know that I, you know, took care of everything.”

“I didn't need a text to know that, Drew. It has been all over the news.”

She quickly scanned the hallway. It was deserted.

“Did anyone see you?” she asked.

Drew smiled. “No. I don't think so. I wanted to surprise you.”

“You sure did, Baby,” she said, shutting the door.

INSTINCT MORE THAN A PLAN drove Taylor toward the water's edge. It wasn't dark yet, but it would be in less than thirty minutes. She looked at her phone, hoping to see at least a chip of a bar so she could make an emergency call.

The phone was completely dead. Not a blip of power remained.

Taylor looked out on the water for the man who had dropped them off, the one who had said he'd be crabbing nearby and would ferry them back to the mainland. He was gone. There wasn't a single foamy ripple on the slate surface of Puget Sound.

“Help! My sister's in trouble!” she yelled across the water.

Taylor turned to face the prison where her sister had vanished in the dark.

Pull yourself together
, she ordered herself.

Taylor looked into the blackness of the water, blackness like the hole that had swallowed Hayley in one big, nasty gulp.

Suddenly, a boat rounded the edge of the island.

“Please! Help!” she called once more, her voice now a ragged rasp.

A SPIKE OF PAIN SHOT THROUGH Hayley's body. She opened her eyes, put her hand to her head, and pressed it gently. It was wet. It hurt so much. She thought she was bleeding, but she couldn't see if her hands were wet with water or blood.

She was in serious trouble, and she was all alone.

“Taylor?” she said softly, then louder. “Are you here? Taylor, can you hear me?”

Unsure of exactly what had happened, Hayley got on her hands and knees and started to crawl over the wet concrete floor in the direction of the sound of water running through a pipe. Her leg hurt, but she hadn't broken it. As she moved through the gloom, her fingers touched something long and cylindrical—a cable or wire.

Good
, she thought, something to follow.
Something to lead me out of here.

After about twenty-five yards, Hayley had to stop. Her body hurt like hell. She was pretty sure resting was the wrong thing to do just then, but she just couldn't go on.

I need to close my eyes. Just for a while.

As water from a broken drainpipe collected around her waist, she didn't feel the icy-cold liquid.

“Taylor,” she said in a raspy whisper. “Get me out of here.”

OUTSIDE, TAYLOR TURNED in the direction of the prison once more. Her sister was alive.

The boat was still there, but it was inching away. Any minute now, Taylor wouldn't be able to see it at all.

She took off her jacket and her shoes. And despite the icy water—

water she knew she could survive in for only a short time—Taylor Ryan dove in. As she started kicking and moving her arms at a pace that she'd never once reached during the entire time she'd been a part of the Kingston High swim team, it kept cycling in her head that if she didn't survive at least she'd died trying to save her sister.

Her other half.

HAYLEY ACTIVATED THE VIDEO RECORDING feature of her cell phone. In that hazy moment, she decided that if she didn't make it out of the darkness, she wanted the people she loved to have a good-bye message. She held the phone at arm's length, facing her in the darkness, and starting talking. Her voice was soft, plaintive.

“Dad, I tried to listen to all of your crime tips. Wish now they were survival tips. I'm glad you were . . .” She stopped, realizing that she was talking about herself in the past tense. Right then she knew she had accepted that she was going to die. “Remember when you used to take me for long walks along the beach, not because of any reason other than you thought time alone was a good idea? It
was
. Those were my favorite times. I felt that it was just us. Not me and Taylor. Just you and me. Bye, Dad.”

Hayley felt her arm go weak, but she kept on. She had no choice. No one quits before they say everything that needs to be said.

“Mom, I'm not mad. I don't want you to think of that. But I would be a liar if I didn't tell you that it really hurts that you didn't trust me enough with the truth. I could have handled it. No matter what it is. No matter what you've done. Or what I've done. I could have. I love you, Mom.”

She was crying then, not able to stop. “Colton, I love you. I always have. If there is another side, I will be there waiting for you. Tell your mother that I love her for all that she did for me and Taylor. Take care of my sister. Not too much, but enough to show that you care. Love always.”

The phone battery flickered. Like Hayley, it was fading fast. She was so cold and so weak, she could barely hold on to the phone. She needed to finish what she had to say because it was so very important.

“Taylor, you will always be the best part of me—my other half. I want you to know that you might have been jealous of me, but the truth is that you were always the one I wanted to be. You have the best heart, Tay. You are everything I wanted to be.” She stopped, feeling tears tracking down her face. “We can still talk through the wall. I know it. Make Mom tell you everything so that you can tell me. I love you, sister.”

Just as the last words slipped from her lips, she dropped the phone and murky darkness descended on her. There was no light to follow. No angel calling her name. Just black. Her last thought was that death could be violent like a storm or soft and easy like the tide.

At that moment, she felt sad and lucky at the same time.

THE LITTLE GIRL WITH THE COLEMAN CAMPING LANTERN in the corridor didn't speak in Hayley's foggy reality. Their eyes met.
Familiar eyes.
Hayley knew the girl was afraid. She kept moving through the dark, her lantern's mantle sending a faint swath of light over the corridor. As she walked, she kept her focus upward.

What was she looking at?

The girl was wearing rubber boots, bright yellow ones that almost glowed against the blackened background of the corridor. Her hands were hidden in large rubber gloves. They were the kind that Valerie Ryan had said she would never use, even if her fingers cracked and shattered from the drying action of dish detergent.

Finally, the girl set down the lantern and reached into the pocket of her lilac robe for a pair of wire cutters. Without hesitating for a single second, she reached up and cut a trio of wires: white, red, and yellow. A shower of sparks fell and she stepped away from it, certain that she'd done the right thing, the only thing. She had saved Tony Ortega, an innocent man.

She had followed the electrical diagrams that she'd taken from her father's office. She knew the corridors that carried water, power, and sewage out of the prison. She knew which line to cut so that the power to the electric chair would fail.

As she stood there, boots and rubber gloves on, pecks of burns on her face from the falling sparks, Valerie had carried out her plan.

Chapter 33

HAVING DITCHED HER DARK-BLUE Macy's Woman wool and polyester suit for jeans and a tan-colored down-filled coat from LL Bean, Annie Garnett looked more like a hunter than a police chief, though some would argue they were one and the same. Especially at that moment. Annie and six deputies from the Kitsap County sheriff's office surrounded the Silverdale Beach Hotel just as the sun started its quick dip behind the Olympics. It had been raining on and off all day, but the clouds had parted to eke out a final drop of daylight.

Mimi, the desk clerk, might just get that Target gift card, after all. She had recognized Drew from TV reports and phoned the police. And while Annie was already on her way there after having talked with Dr. Waterman, she was going to talk to Brandy.

“She was angry because the death certificate for her daughter had not been embossed with the official seal of this office. She actually yelled at me,” Birdy had said.

“She must have really needed that document,” Annie had said.

“Needed it? She would have killed for it.”

A police boat from Bremerton covered the shoreline in front of the hotel with searchlights at the ready in the event they were needed. A pair of ambulances had just eased into the east end of the parking lot in case what was about to go down ended in violence. Two canine officers were also on hand—Ava, who had found Brianna's body in the woods, and a younger black lab named Cinder. There was no way Drew was going to get away. Not on Annie's watch. She'd had him in custody the night of Olivia's murder and she felt sick that she'd ever let him go. In a way, she felt that Brianna's death had been all her fault. She
should
have,
could
have done things differently. All the signs were there. As quietly as possible, first in the lobby, then on the floor on which Brandy had been registered, Annie led the deputies to the room.

This was going to be her bust. No one else's. Both of the dead girls had been tied to her beloved Port Gamble and she, more than just about anyone, needed to make the arrest.

She owed it to Olivia's folks. And to Brianna's family.

Annie drew her gun. “Police,” she said in her most intimidating voice. “Open the door!”

No answer.

She looked over at her backup and nodded. Next, she took the key card that the manager at the front desk had given her and inserted it into the brass slot. The tiny red light instantly turned green. “Coming in,” she said. “Police!”

The door swung open so fast it hit the wall and bounced back as Annie and the others burst inside the dimly lit room. A deputy flipped on the lights, and Annie's dark eyes scanned the entire space. She didn't breathe. With her gun pointed like a laser, she covered every inch.

The room was a mess. Amid clothing, papers, and bloody sheets were two bodies. Both appeared to be nude. The one closest to the door was a male. Annie knew immediately it was Drew. He was on his back, with his left arm dripping blood. A gash over his left pectoral muscle looked like a zipper of red had been undone. The figure next to him, a woman Annie figured had to be Brandy, was wrapped in sheets. Her arm dangled from the opposite side of the bed.

Annie touched Drew's neck and looked up. Her face was as solemn as it had ever been.

“Got a pulse,” she said. “Weak, but alive.”

“This one too,” said Deputy Flinn, bending down to assess Brianna's mother.

Brandy Connors Baker was tangled up in the hotel room's luxurious white sheets, splattered with speckles and streaks of red. Her arm twitched, and the light of the now-illuminated crystal chandelier over the bed caught the edge of a sharp and bloody blade.

“He's got a knife!” the deputy called out.

The erroneous fleur-de-lis tattoo on the right side of his chest twitched. Drew was barely alive. Even so, the police chief wasn't about to take chances. Annie reached over and with the barrel of her gun, flicked away the knife.

“We need a chopper. These two will be lucky if they make it,” Annie said.

“We'd be lucky if this punk serial killer dies on the way,” Flinn said.

“We don't administer that kind of justice, Deputy,” she said. “You know better than that.”