Deadly Deception (Deadly Series) (10 page)

Adam had left numerous voicemails on her phone, pleading for a returned call. He didn’t specify whether he was still up at the cabin or if he had returned to the Cities. Anne could feel the guilt rise in her throat. The consequential thoughts made her insides flutter and not in a good way.

She would step into that wasps’ nest in due time but for now she was off to meet someone else, someone who could possibly shine some light on the precarious situation that Carter had shoved her into, the last person to have seen him before he disappeared—Sam Goodman.

It was amazing how easily people could be found simply by the click of a mouse. Sam had returned from Asia with a bride and a toddler. They resided in a quiet community in Woodbury. She entered Carver Lake Park which also had a pleasant beach that was full of activity during the summer months. The sun’s rays were bursting with warmth that soothed the once-hibernated public. The timber playground equipment buzzed with children of all ages while parents conversed with one another about the joyous break of the winter blues.

Perched on a nearby bench hiding behind a black baseball cap and blue hoodie was Sam. Anne walked up to him guardedly but once he saw her, he jumped up and hugged her. Quite taken back by his enthusiasm, Anne returned the gesture. His blue eyes twinkled with the early afternoon sun.

“Anne! It’s so good to see you!”

She scanned the playground.

“It’s great to see you too Sam. Are your wife and daughter here?”

“No, it’s best that I keep them out of harm’s way. I think I’ve done enough of that to last a lifetime.”

She knew exactly what he was referring to.

“Why did you do it?”

Sam’s chipper demeanor became apprehensive. A shadow etched over his fair freckled face.

“Carter helped me get my wife out of Hong Kong minus the red tape so in return I kept a close eye on you. I’m sorry, Anne, I know I should’ve told you but there are so many elements to this and he didn’t want you getting involved.”

“But you risked your family’s life for him? Who are the Montgomery's? And what is Adam’s involvement in all this?”

“Wow, you just get right to it, don’t you?”

Sam shifted uncomfortably.

“Look, whatever it is I can handle it.”

His face looked doubtful.

“No, you can’t, but I will say this: tread lightly. The Montgomery's have people everywhere and they mean business.”

Sam quickly glanced around the park.

“What about Adam?”

He covered his mouth with his hand, pretending to cough.

“He has history with Carter and his family but don’t tell him about Carter. Do you understand me? Adam’s expertise is elimination.”

The seriousness of his manner made Anne feel anxious. She knew she was walking right into a minefield.

“I need more than this, Sam.”

He shook his head in protest.

“I have to go. Take care of yourself and remember what I said.”

Sam patted the top of her hand. He smiled and walked away. She watched him get into his teal Suburban and drive out of the parking lot. Not too long after he left, she couldn’t help but notice
a silver BMW with tinted windows following closely behind him. They were indeed being watched. A violated sensation swept over her body, bringing a wave of nausea to her stomach. Sprinting to a nearby plastic trash bin, she released all her distress with a large heave. The acid-laced bile burned her throat, bringing tears to her eyes. After searching for a napkin in her purse, she patted the corners of her mouth. She hurried to her car and sped out of the parking lot. It was time for her to face Adam.

Speeding down the interstate, weaving in and out of traffic, she exited 35W
onto the road that would lead her to the uptown area near Calhoun’s Square. Pulling up in front of a row of three townhomes, she threw her car into park and approached the covered walkway. Her brown ballet flats made a slight echo on the wooden enclosure. Anne peeked inside the garage; Adam’s car was not there. With his house key in hand, she slid it into the lock and opened the white door. The shades were drawn and all was quiet.

“Adam?” She called out just in case.

Closing the door behind her, she gently stepped into the living area, listening for any signs of his or anyone’s presence. Climbing the beige carpeted stairs, she mutedly looked around the corner where the master bedroom was. The king-size bed had been untouched; the comforter, sheets and pillows were still neatly made. Across the hallway was his office. She knew right where his personal documents were located.

The two-drawer black metal filing cabinet was cold to the touch. Opening it made a slight squeak; she turned her head toward the door. Still silent. All the multi-colored file folders were alphabetically labeled. Did she think she was going to look under
C
for
Corrupt
? She rolled her eyes at her thought. She didn’t know what she was looking for except anything that linked him to the Montgomerys or to Carter.

Thumbing through piles of paperwork, she came across absolutely nothing. She sighed with frustration and rotated her head back to stretch out the muscles that had become tense. She looked off into the corner of the room and spotted a pair of gloves. Quickly she began opening doors to her memory vault, knowing those gloves looked familiar. All at once a picture of Carter flashed in front of her
—the picture from the camping trip with Ryan and Sam. There had been a man in the photo that had hidden his face. The symbols on the black gloves were identical to the ones in the photo.

“Adam was there.”

In a tight breath, Anne gasped.

“Find what you were looking for?”

Twisting her body, she backed up into the corner of the hushed office.

“Adam, you scared me half to—
” she suddenly choked, rethinking her choice of words. “Well, you scared me.”

Adam’s discontented expression said it all.

“What are you doing here?”

A tremble in her throat made it almost impossible for her to verbalize her intentions.

“I…was looking for something.”

He stepped closer to her.

“I can see that,” he said, examining at the strewed papers that lined the floor. “Did you find it?”

Still clutching the gloves in her hand, she tried to inch herself out of the corner.

“I know the truth, Adam.”

He smirked.

“You know nothing, but for fun let’s hear your version.”

“You were hired to kill Carter and when the Montgomery's suspected his death was phony they wanted you to watch over me in case he came back or he told me anything about their illegal dealings.” She held up the gloves. “I know you were there the day he disappeared. I have a photo of you wearing these.”

He took another step closer to examine her evidence.

“Hmmmm, so your theory is that I’m a contract killer on the side and was hired to kill your beloved Carter and now for the past three years I’ve been playing it off as your loving and adoring boyfriend and fiancé, so I could lure him out of hiding and finish the job. Did I miss anything?”

The calmness in his voice frightened her; it shook her right to her bones.

“It’s not a theory, Adam—
it’s a fact. You should know that when there’s evidence there’s a warranted case.”

“Beyond a re
asonable doubt is my stance, and I’m not going to continue indulging in this psychological warfare. I’m more than willing to tell you the truth but not right now.”

She shook her head and threw down the gloves.

“You know, I’m becoming increasingly fed up with these games, Adam. I’m begging you, if I ever meant anything to you, please, tell me what happened!”

This time, Anne moved closer to him, waiting for a reaction to her plea.

“You don’t know how much this pains me to see you so hurt and confused. The truth will reveal itself in due time.”

He stroked her cheek. She flinched.

“I’m not going to hurt you. I love you, Anne.”

“If you loved me you would admit to what you did.”

“You mean what I didn’t do. The death certificate read accidental drowning, but I guess that doesn’t matter now, since he’s not dead.”

Without another word she pushed past him and flew down the stairs like he was chasing her, but he wasn’t. Dashing from the house and to her car; she pushed the a
ccelerator to the floor; a high-pitched sound echoed against the pavement. The smell of burnt rubber seeped into the car. Anne had no way of warning Carter of Adam’s knowledge of his existence. She could only hope he would reach out to her before it was too late. 

Anne tucked herself into the plush olive sofa, wrapping her body in a fatigued ball. Her eyes blinked heavily and wearily. The background noise of the television played in the distance as she drew closer to the dream realm. With all the madness circulating through her mind, the dreams quickly became nightmares.

Adam stood before her; his face distorted in rage, his shirt soaked with blood. He stepped closer to her and then pointed to his right. There laid Carter, dead, covered in blood. She screamed but nothing left her mouth and then Adam came toward her, placing his hands over her throat, choking every bit of oxygen out of her.

Anne threw herself up as she was coughing, gasping for air. She clutched her throat and looked around the dim room. Shadows swayed along the walls from the vivid glow of the television. Anne stood up and made her way to the kitchen to get a drink of water in hopes to recover a steady breathing pattern. Gulping down half a bottle of water, she inhaled deeply a few more times, gathering her composure. Almost hoping that Carter was lurking around, she peered out of the kitchen window but saw nothing except a couple walking toward the building, laughing, holding onto one another.

Early evening was setting in and the five o’clock news was starting. Anne placed her water on the table beside her and turned up the volume on the television. On the bottom of the screen it read BREAKING NEWS; a petite brunette news anchor was standing outside a two-story brick home that had been roped off by yellow police tape.

“Police say that thirty-three-year-old Sam Goodman was gunned down outside his Woodbury home shortly after four o’clock this afternoon. Neighbors say that a white or silver sedan stopped in front of the house while Goodman was outside. The gunman opened fire, shooting six rounds, and then sped away.”

Anne could still see the anchorwoman’s mouth moving but it was all moving in slow motion. They flashed a picture of Sam on the screen with his wife and daughter.

“Goodman is survived by his wife and eighteen-month-old daughter. Police are still here at the scene investigating and questioning his wife and neighbors, trying to find out who would want to brutally murder this quiet suburban family man in broad daylight. Back to you, Chris and Marsha.”

Anne’s breathing was labored. She struggled to stand on her unsteady legs, pushing them toward her bedroom. Tears ran down her face; whimpers ricocheted through the vague room.
Fumbling for the switch on her small lamp she fell in front of her nightstand. Shaking frenziedly, she attempted to read the labels on the prescription bottles.

Spilling out moans of frustration, she popped open the white ribbed cap and a dozen small pink pills dribbled out onto the floor. Her fingers grasped one and she shoved it down her throat, swallowing hard, praying for the little dustings of medication to flow through her veins and shut off the neurons that were causing her body to convulse with panic.

***

Lying face down on her hardwood floor, staring at the family of dust bunnies that inhabited the space under the bed, her breathing began to slow; her pulse calmed. The darkness she once ran to
ward had now spilled out into her reality; that dark place was here, living and breathing like the self-destructive monster it was.

Feeling the vibrations on the floor of passing trucks and neighbors moving furniture soothed her. Then she heard what sounded like a tapping noise. Lifting her unsteady head to try to focus her hearing on the sound and realizing someone was at her door lightly knocking, she heaved her body up as carefully as she could. Her vision laced with vertigo, reaching out to the walls to guide her to the door, she heard the tapping noise once again.

“Anneliese, open the door or I’m coming in.”

Coordinating her muscles to unlatch the locks took immense concentration, but once she swung the door open she fell right into Carter’s arms, sobbing into his chest. He shut the door with his foot and pulled her further inside, stroking her tangled locks.

“Shhhhhh, my Anneliese. It’s okay, it’s okay,” he kept repeating in a reassuring tone.

“Oh my
god, Carter, it’s my entire fault. Sam is dead because of me!” Anne bellowed out into the wool fibers.

“It’s not your fault. Stop saying that.”

He continued to stroke her tear-saturated blonde strands, placing kisses atop her head.