Murder at Castle Rock (22 page)

Our trio quietly exited the van. I shuddered as we crept past the loading dock and dumpsters, which were both still sealed off with yellow police tape. The chalk outline of Parker's body had washed away in Wednesday's downpour, but I could still see him lying there every time I looked down. I shuddered.

There was no patrolman standing guard at the back door. "Someone could be back at any minute," I warned, sliding my key into the lock and pulling the door open. Lightning lit up the night sky just then, accompanied by a menacing crack of thunder. We hurried inside just as the first few raindrops began to smack against the pavement.

Once inside, we tiptoed up the stairs to the second floor. I paused at the top of the landing and listened for a moment to make sure no guard was posted. Thick and ominous silence pushed back against my eardrums, and an uneasy feeling settled into the pit of my stomach. I held my breath for several moments, listening for any signs of life in the upstairs hallway. Nothing. We were completely alone in the castle. I reached into my back pocket and pulled out my keychain with a mini-flashlight attached. I shone the light up and down the hall. The venue was creepy in the dark, with its cold, grey stone walls and the hallway's worn carpet. I felt like a ghost-hunter searching for spooks in the ruins of an old medieval castle. I just hoped I didn't find any.

I slowly roved my beam of light up and down the hallway, noting that nothing seemed out of place. The hallway looked exactly as it had the night I had walked out to find Reese and Parker fighting in it. I replayed in my mind everything that I knew about Parker's final moments: he had made it to the green room to drop off Bobby's beer, and he and someone else—my money was on Shawn Stone—had ended up in the tower.

"This way," I whispered. I started down the hall to the stage door. Tony and Bronwyn followed noiselessly behind me—at least, until we reached the side door of the stage. One of Tony's frayed shoelaces came untied, and he tripped over his own Sketchers. He went sprawling forward, knocking down Bron and me like a pair of dominoes. We all cried out as we toppled forward, and Bronwyn slammed against the door. It burst inward and knocked down one of the tripods, launching a camera straight into Bobby's cherished Gibson guitar, Whiskey. I cringed at the crunch of glass and jarring discord of the guitar strings.
So much for being quiet.

"Remind me to kill you when this is all over," I muttered to Tony.

"Sorry." He shrugged his shoulders sheepishly and stooped to pick up the fallen camera stand.

I hurried forward to assess the damage to Bobby's guitar. Shining my light down on the instrument, I breathed a tiny sigh of relief. The camera lens had cracked, but luckily no scratches were visible on Whiskey.
Close call!

I panned the flashlight slowly across the floor and surveyed the area. The curtain was closed, creating a wavy red wall between the stage and the main room of High Court. Several cables were strewn across the stage like long, black snakes slithering the length of the floor. Each cable was connected to an amp or an instrument.

The cameras that sat on tripods in both wings of the stage. Camera Three would be located somewhere in the wings of stage left. I aimed my flashlight beam in that direction and spotted several cameras still set up from Monday night's filming.

"I'm starting to think maybe this isn't such a good idea, Ame." Bronwyn appeared at my elbow. She nervously tugged my sleeve. "We just made a hell of a racket. Maybe we should get out of here."

"Not yet." I shrugged her off. I had my eyes on the prize now. I was mere feet away from the camera that held the evidence I needed. "We've made it this far. No turning back now."

"She's got a point," Tony said from stage right. "You said yourself that a patrolman could be back any minute. Bronwyn, why don't you and I go keep an eye out for the security guards?"

"Let's do it." Bron nodded emphatically, joining him at stage right.

"Alright. Bron, you should keep an eye out near the window. Tony, head downstairs and guard the back door. I'll be out soon." I watched as Tony turned toward the door, and Bronwyn scurried after him. Alone at last, I edged my way through the amps and speakers to stage left. I scanned the three tripods that were set up in the wing, recalling from memory Bobby's stage diagram and the labels for each camera. "One…Two…Three. Bingo!" I whispered triumphantly as I spotted the camera that corresponded to the number three on the set-up diagram. I drew close to the tripod and stepped around to the other side. Sure enough, this camera was facing directly across the stage. Peeking through the lens, I could see that it would have picked up anyone standing in the opposite wing.
Finally, the evidence I needed, in high-def!

My excitement mounted as I flipped back the plastic lid to retrieve the camera's memory card. An empty slot stared back at me. "Hmm." I frowned, searching the recording device for any other openings or slots. There were none. Disappointment crashed over me. Someone had beaten me to the memory card. The evidence I needed was gone. "Back to square one," I muttered.

A scream pieced the air, causing me to jump.
Bronwyn
! I scrambled across the stage and back into the hallway, the beam of my flashlight bouncing ahead of me to light the way. Bronwyn wasn't at her post by the window. Skidding to a stop by the glass, I peered out into the rainy night. Another vehicle was parked next to ours. Panic seized my chest.

It was the green truck—the killer had found us.

Another scream sounded somewhere above me.
The tower.
I couldn't let Bronwyn meet the same fate as Parker. Hoping Tony had heard the commotion and would come give me backup, I ducked under the yellow police tape. I bolted up the winding stairwell as fast as my legs could carry me. Rounding the last twist of the steps, I rammed my shoulder into the door at the top. It gave way easily, and I stumbled into the dark tower room. My flashlight slipped from my grip and clattered down the steep stairwell.
Shit.

I squinted, waiting for my eyes to adjust to my dim lighting of the tower. The circular room was small and bare. The only way in or out was through the stairwell I'd just taken, which was concealed from the rest of the room by a column at its center. Bronwyn had to be on the other side of the column.

"Bron?" I whispered loudly. No answer. I cautiously edged in a circle around the column.

Bronwyn stood on the other side of the room, her back against the tower's balcony ledge. Her arms were still by her sides, and her face was twisted in a look of surprised fear. "Bronwyn!" Relieved to see her unharmed, I rushed forward.

Big mistake.

"Uh, Ame…" Bronwyn's eyes were fixed on a point behind me. A deadly metallic
clink
echoed throughout the tower, and terror iced through me as something cold brushed against the back of my neck. I pivoted slowly, finding myself face-to-barrel with a nine millimeter.

"About time you joined us," Tony jeered, pointing the gun at my temple. "You saved me the trouble of having to come back downstairs to get you." I winced and drew back, but the gun followed.

Tony seemed like a completely different person than the man I'd kissed the night before. His once charming smile had twisted into a malevolent sneer. The warmth in his grey eyes was gone, replaced with bitterness and malice. Even the way he carried himself had changed. He stood a little taller, towering menacingly over Bronwyn and me.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked quietly.
This has to be a mistake. This isn't Tony—it's his evil twin, just like in the movies. The real Tony will come running up here any moment to save us from this bizarro him.
Even as the thoughts pinged through me, I knew they weren't true. The Tony I knew wasn't real. This monster was.

"Just doing my job, toots." Tony barked a spiteful laugh. His wicked glee made my stomach turn. Tony nudged me with the weapon and motioned for me back up next to Bronwyn on the balcony ledge. The cold, wet stones of the tower wall pressed against me. The storm had gathered strength, and rain poured sideways onto the balcony, soaking my hair and neck. I shivered, more from fear than the cold.
How could I have been so stupid?
All this time, I'd been flirting with the enemy. I'd trusted Tony—and I'd told him everything I knew about Stone, Kat's marriage, Parker's and Laura's deaths…and all this time he'd been waiting for his chance to kill me. Worse, I'd brought Bronwyn along with me like a lamb to slaughter.

I glanced sideways at Bron. Her usual cream complexion and rosy cheeks were an ashen white, and her green eyes wide with fear. "W-what do you want from us?" Her voice trembled.

Tony chuckled. "What do I want from
you
? Not a thing, half-pint. You're just a bonus kill." He reached over and ruffled her pink hair. Bronwyn blanched, jerking her head away from him. Tony's smile faded. "Did I say you could move?" He reared his hand back and smacked her across her cheek.

It took every ounce of my will not to launch myself at him when he struck her. He'd likely shoot me on the spot, and I could do nothing to help Bronwyn if I was dead. I bit my tongue and forced myself to remain still. Bron yelped, but she refused to cry. Her jaw clenched, and she narrowed her eyes at him. "Bonus kill?"

"You just
had
to come along for the ride." Tony grinned. "Poor Reese!" he said, mimicking her. "I just
have
to help him." He snorted. "Sorry, Bron. You can't help him now—and I can't let you leave." Tony kept his gun trained on me with one arm while slinging the other around my shoulders. "My girl here, though, she's on the list."

"The list?" I asked.

Tony's cold, grey eyes bored into mine. He lowered his gaze to my chest and continued down the length of my body. He pressed his body tightly against my backside. "It's a shame I didn't get into those pants before the boss decided he wanted you dead." Tony slid his arm down my collarbone and splayed his fingers to cup my left breast. I shuddered, fighting the urge to spit in his face.
Creep.

"Stone," I said, trying to distract him. "He's the boss, right? You told him I knew he killed Parker, so he told you to get rid of me."

"You're giving him too much credit." Tony released me and backed up a few steps, leaving the handgun trained expertly at my right temple. "Stone orders the hits, but yours truly does all the dirty work." He hooked his thumb toward his chest, beaming with malicious pride.

I gaped at him. "You killed Parker?"

"Sure did, princess—and I didn't even have to waste a bullet. I checked in with Stone backstage to confirm the target. Then I hid in the tower stairwell until Parker was alone. I heard Kat say she needed to talk to him. All I had to do was tell him she was waiting for him in the tower, then follow him up and clock him on the back of the head with my gun. He practically fell over the balcony edge on his own—just needed the tiniest little push." Tony reached out one arm and poked the air in front of him with one finger, like he was knocking over a string of dominoes.

I fought back the bile rising in my throat. I glanced at Bronwyn, who looked equally sick. I had to find a way to get her out of the tower alive.
The truck!
I remembered the green truck that had parked next to the van downstairs. Someone else was here. If Tony was Stone's goon, then maybe the driver of the mystery vehicle wasn't bad after all.
It could be one of Sinclair's officers.
If I could stall long enough, maybe whoever it was would find us before it was too late. I just needed to buy a little time
.

"Why did Stone want Parker dead?" I asked Tony. "And you were with me when Laura was shot. If Stone didn't want to get his hands dirty, then who shot her?"

"I did." A familiar nasally voice called from the stairwell entrance. I gasped as Stacy Jefferson strolled around the corner wearing a raincoat, her signature stilettos, and an evil grin.

"You?" I gaped at her.

"Guilty!" She giggled and sidled up to Tony, throwing her arms around him. "This is that new boyfriend from Vegas I told you about." She smirked. "See? Devastatingly handsome, just like I said." She pressed her lips to his in a passionate kiss. Tony kissed her back and wrapped his free arm around her, but his eyes never left mine. The aim of his gun never wavered. I recalled the McDonald's cup he offered me in the van after the car chase, the one with the stains on the straw—the same shade of red as the lipstick that she-devil was smearing all over his face and neck.
The night at The Cavern… it was all for show
. Tony's interest in me had all been an act, just a way to find out how much I knew about Stone. The person I hated most in this world had helped him play me. Yeah, I was definitely going to be sick.

Stacy's nauseating perfume wafted under my nose, and something else clicked in my memory. It was the same scent that I'd noticed out by the dumpsters when we found Laura, and before that in the downstairs hallway by Kat's office.

"You hid in Kat's office after you shot Laura."

Stacy peeled herself off Tony long enough to shrug and hold her hands together as if she were being handcuffed. "Way to go, Nancy Drew," she sang in a mocking tone. "I thought you were going to walk in there and find me. At least then I could've taken care of you. I was waiting for Kat to come back so I could shoot her, but Laura saw me." She shrugged. "Too bad, so sad."

Bronwyn had been silent until now. "You planted the handgun in Reese's coat." Her green eyes flashed angrily.

Stacy held out her hand and examined nails, looking bored. "Babe," she said, yawning. "Can you get rid of Graceless and the pipsqueak already? I wanna go dancing after."

Tony switched his aim from me to Bronwyn, ready to pull the trigger. Bron cowered on the wet stone floor, shielding her head with her arms.

"Wait!" I cried, stalling. "Stacy, why did you come back here last night after everyone left?"

Tony relaxed his trigger finger, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Bronwyn sag with relief. He glanced at his girlfriend. "Stace drove my truck back to get that precious memory card you were looking for. Wouldn't look good if the cops saw a clip of me talking to Stone backstage, now would it?" He scowled at both Stacy and me. "But you just
had
to see who was here when we drove by—I would've just pulled into the parking lot and killed you then if Miss Leadfoot here hadn't put the pedal down. I had to make sure she didn't wreck my baby."