String of Lies (28 page)
Jo doubted Alexis suspected anything of the sort of Randy, but was merely watching him as she did everyone in town. It was Randy’s guilty conscience that had seen things otherwise.
“Always watching me,” he continued, “even after all these years. And she saw me working in the Shillings’ yard that day, and came to your shop just to let me know that.”
Jo remembered Alexis barging in the day the craft shop was closed, as Randy was rebuilding Jo’s shelves. Alexis
had
mentioned seeing Randy at the Shillings’, but was it in any kind of threatening way? It hadn’t sounded that way to Jo; to her, it had come across only as Alexis’s usual babble tumbling out to demonstrate how aware she was of everyone’s comings and goings. Except she probably wasn’t the least bit aware of what she had actually seen—a man planning murder. All Alexis likely saw was a handyman cutting up a tree, and had probably cared only about how much the Shillings were paying him.
had
mentioned seeing Randy at the Shillings’, but was it in any kind of threatening way? It hadn’t sounded that way to Jo; to her, it had come across only as Alexis’s usual babble tumbling out to demonstrate how aware she was of everyone’s comings and goings. Except she probably wasn’t the least bit aware of what she had actually seen—a man planning murder. All Alexis likely saw was a handyman cutting up a tree, and had probably cared only about how much the Shillings were paying him.
“You killed Alexis because you thought she would turn you in?” Jo asked, thinking how incredibly easily one murder led to another to cover one’s tracks. Randy was right in that one could hang for the first murder alone, so what was there to stop him from more? What would stop him from killing Jo?
Randy stared at Jo, his face darkening, his fingers flexing in their grip on the knife. “She told Lisa,” he said, “that she should break up with me.”
“Oh! Yes, I knew about that. Alexis shouldn’t have done that.”
“Lisa’s the one good thing’s happened to me in twenty years, and she wanted to take that away from me.”
“Lisa wouldn’t have left you Randy, just because of what Alexis said to her.”
Randy slapped his knife hard against the wooden arm of his chair. “How do you know that? Tell me! How do you know that?”
Jo jumped at Randy’s outburst. “I—I—” she stuttered, not knowing what to say that could calm him down. He glared hard at her, waiting. Then the phone rang.
Chapter 26
Jo turned to stare at the phone sitting on the end table beside her. She looked back at Randy.
“Don’t touch it,” he warned.
It rang, two, three, four times, then her answering machine clicked on. They both listened to Jo’s recorded voice inviting the caller to leave a message. The phone beeped, then Carrie’s voice came through.
“Jo, are you there? I tried your cell and it wasn’t on. Where are you?”
Jo pictured her cell phone tucked into the purse that had been left behind in her car. The sound of her friend’s voice wrenched at her, contact with her only inches from Jo’s hand but totally out of reach.
“A couple customers have asked things I can’t answer,” Carrie continued. “Are you coming back soon? Call me.”
The phone clicked off. The silence in Jo’s living room hung heavily. Jo feared Randy might be thinking, as she was, of her car, sitting in the parking lot beside her shop.
How long before someone recognized it and mentioned that to Carrie? How long before Carrie found it herself?
Randy could be thinking they had to get out of there. But to where? If he had known where to take Jo from the first, he wouldn’t have brought her here to begin with. This had been the only place he could think of in his rush to get hold of her. A stopping point. Possibly he had thought to stay there until dark, when it would be safer to be on the road again.
Randy had been drinking, Jo reminded herself. He might be struggling to keep his focus. Perhaps she could help keep it muddled.
“I just remembered,” she said. “I might have a small bottle of Kahlua around. It was part of a gift basket someone gave me for my grand opening.”
“Kahlua? What’s that?”
“A liqueur. It’s coffee-flavored, and kind of sweet, but it’s alcohol. Shall I try to find it?”
“Alcohol? Yeah, sure.” Randy got up to stand next to Jo.
“Go get it.”
Jo stood up, unzipping her jacket, which was making her feel over heated, but keeping it on. “I’m trying to think where I put it. It might be mixed in with everything in the pantry.”
She moved toward the kitchen with Randy following closely. Jo opened her small pantry and peered into it, hoping she really
did
have a bottle of Kahlua, since the memory of exactly what had happened to it had grown dim. She could feel Randy’s breath on her neck as she moved aside cans of green beans and jars of mayonnaise and pickles, then looked behind boxes of pasta, packages of soup mix, and cartons of microwave popcorn. Finally, a dark bottle with a foil label came into view.
did
have a bottle of Kahlua, since the memory of exactly what had happened to it had grown dim. She could feel Randy’s breath on her neck as she moved aside cans of green beans and jars of mayonnaise and pickles, then looked behind boxes of pasta, packages of soup mix, and cartons of microwave popcorn. Finally, a dark bottle with a foil label came into view.
“Here it is.”
Randy grabbed for it and stared at the bottle. He seemed to be having difficulty reading the label. He shoved it back at Jo and said, “Open it up.”
Jo removed the foil wrapper from the top, then twisted off the bottle’s cap. She handed it back to Randy, not bothering to offer a glass.
Randy tasted the Kahlua and grunted. “It’s like syrup,” he complained, but he downed a sizeable amount of the contents.
Jo watched, also keeping an eye on the hand holding the knife. Had it relaxed at all? Not any that she could tell. What else could she do?
Suddenly Randy banged the Kahlua bottle on her kitchen counter, hard. “I have to get out of here! They’re going to come looking for you soon.”
Jo jumped at the noise, aware that he had said “
I
have to get out of here,” not “we.” Was that his plan, then? To kill her there?
I
have to get out of here,” not “we.” Was that his plan, then? To kill her there?
“No one will come here, Randy. I never come home in the middle of the day. Carrie knows that. She’ll keep checking around town.”
Randy began to pace the small kitchen. “They’ll come. They’ll come. I gotta do it. I gotta get out of here.” He stopped at her kitchen door and peered through the glass at the edge of Jo’s curtain. Then he turned around and stared back at Jo, his knife blade twisting in the air.
“Randy, you can’t kill me.”
Randy stared silently at her.
“I have to.”
“I know you think you have to, but it won’t help you at all, Randy. I’m not the only one who will figure out you killed Parker. Killing me won’t mean you’re home free. It will only be one more death on your conscience.”
Randy snorted. “Conscience? What’s that? You think I have a conscience anymore?”
“Yes, I do, Randy.”
“Well, you’re wrong, lady. I left it back on Route 30.”
“I don’t think you did, Randy. I think you still feel very bad about killing that boy, even though it was an accident. It’s too bad that Parker Holt was with you that night, egging you on and twisting your thoughts. He pushed you into that first bad decision to keep going, but I think you’ve suffered over that night ever since.”
Randy was silent.
“One bad decision led to another,” Jo said, “didn’t it? It’s what got you here. It’s time to stop, Randy. Too many people have been hurt. You can’t undo what you’ve already done, but you can stop adding to it.”
“I get rid of you and it’s over,” he said.
“But it won’t be, Randy. There’ll always be one more, and one more. Is that the way you want to go on? You killed Alexis thinking she would be the end of it, didn’t you?”
Randy didn’t answer.
“And it wasn’t. There’ll be someone after me, then someone after them. Is that what you want?”
“I can leave town tonight, take Lisa with me. It’ll be over then.”
“Is that fair to Lisa—life with someone always looking over his shoulder? And what about the man you’d be leaving behind? The man who could be charged with Parker’s murder? Can you leave him to be sent to prison for what you did?”
Jo thought she saw something flash in Randy’s eyes. Was it the smallest touch of regret?
“He’s an innocent man,” she said, “with a young wife whose baby will be born any day now. Can you do that to him? To his young family?”
“What do I care about that?”
“But you do, Randy. You do. You’re not such a monster as you think you are.”
Randy reached for the Kahlua bottle and gulped at it. He raised his knife and waved it at her, signaling to Jo that she should walk back to the living room. She hesitated, then moved forward, preceding him and half expecting to feel steel against her neck at any moment. Had she reached him at all? Or had she been talking to an already dead soul?
Randy didn’t strike, and Jo made it back to her sofa, with quivering knees but alive. She sat down.
“You can end this now, Randy,” Jo said, quietly.
Randy stood over her. He raised the hand holding the Kahlua and put the bottle to his lips, drinking up the remaining contents.
“I’ve had one hell of a shitty life, haven’t I?” he said, wiping his mouth, his face twisted with disgust.
“It’s been pretty tough,” Jo agreed.
“All I wanted was to farm,” he said. “Grow things, hold on to the land. And I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t hold it together.”
“You might have, if you’d been allowed to.”
“I should have killed Parker right off. Got him off my back right away.”
“That wouldn’t have been the answer.”
“No? Would I be where I am right now if I got rid of him right off? A bum, without two nickels and ready to kill one of the few people who treated me with any decency?”
“You might have your farm, but if you’d killed Parker back then your life wouldn’t be much better. You’d be as haunted as you are right now, always running from your conscience, thinking everyone who looked at you could see inside to what you had done.”
Randy flopped into the chair he had occupied before. He sat, staring dully and silently at Jo. She could only guess what was going through his mind. After what seemed like several minutes, he spoke.
“I made a footstool for my mom once. I was only twelve. It was the first thing I ever made like that. I fitted the legs to it, sanded it, stained it. She told me it was the best footstool she’d ever seen.”
Jo nodded, not knowing what Randy was leading to.
After another period of silence, he said, “My pop and me, we were talking about buying a few more acres to expand the farm. He asked me what I thought we should plant on it. He asked
me
.” Randy’s eyelids flicked briefly. “I told him I thought we shouldn’t go with corn but that soybeans were looking good that year. So that’s what we were going to do. Plant soybeans on the extra acres.”
me
.” Randy’s eyelids flicked briefly. “I told him I thought we shouldn’t go with corn but that soybeans were looking good that year. So that’s what we were going to do. Plant soybeans on the extra acres.”
Jo waited. Why was he telling her this? The silence grew heavy, and Jo could hear herself breathing. Short, rapid breaths. Then Randy spoke again.
“Just before my mom died,” he said, his voice having gone hollow, “she said she wanted me to find a nice girl to marry, and have kids. She wanted me to name one of them after my pop. Bill. His name was Bill.”
Jo nodded, venturing a small smile. She waited again, but Randy had stopped. He didn’t seem to be looking at her anymore, but looking
through
her. Finally, he stood up. Jo held her breath as Randy moved toward her, but then he continued on. He wandered about the room, touching things absently.
through
her. Finally, he stood up. Jo held her breath as Randy moved toward her, but then he continued on. He wandered about the room, touching things absently.
He moved over to one of the windows again, pulling aside its curtain an inch and peering outside. But Jo didn’t sense the same urgency, the same anxiety he had had before, pushing him. There seemed to be a strange calm settled on him, and Jo didn’t know what that meant. She began thinking of what she could do to defend herself should he suddenly come at her with that knife. But, as in the truck, everything she thought of seemed hopeless. She might be able to fight Randy off for a time, but ultimately she knew he had all the power.
He turned from the window, then crossed the room, moving past her again to her front hallway. She heard him enter her bathroom. Jo sat for a moment, confused, poised for action but not knowing what that action should be. Randy hadn’t warned her to stay put, hadn’t seemed to even be thinking of her, but most important hadn’t taken the receiver of her cordless phone with him. Would she have time to call for help?
Before she could think any further, Jo heard a groan, then a noise as if something had dropped on her bathroom floor. Something heavy. She jumped up.
“Randy?”
Jo suddenly knew what had happened and rushed to the bathroom. The door was closed.
“Randy?” she called, and getting no response pushed at the door. She couldn’t open it more than a few inches. Something pressed against it on the other side, holding it. She pressed harder, looking down at her bathroom’s black and white checkered tile. When she saw red slowly seep over the squares, she moaned.
“Oh, Randy.”
Jo ran to her phone and punched 9-1-1.
“Please get an ambulance over here right away!” she shouted.
Chapter 27
Jo realized she was clutching her middle, holding her arms wrapped tightly against her stomach. Was it because of what she pictured about Randy? Was she mentally trying to keep his blood from spilling out by holding her own in? She tried to relax but found it impossible.
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