The Dying Game (30 page)
When their second dance ended, she pulled away from him. And he let her go. As she escaped from Judd, she glanced over her shoulder, taking one final look. Their gazes joined for a brief second, then she marched back to the table where Nathan sat talking to the other guests. When he saw her, he jumped to his feet and smiled.
As she slipped her arm around his waist, she kissed his cheek, then whispered, “When can we leave?”
A perplexed expression crossed his face. “Are you all right?”
She urged him several feet away from the table and looked directly at him. “Do you still want me to stay the night?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Whenever you’re ready to go, I can follow you home. I want to be with you tonight.”
At one-forty-five, Judd went upstairs to his guest room at Griffin’s Rest, changed out of his tuxedo, one he’d had over night delivered from his home in Chattanooga, and took a quick shower. He lay down in bed and spent the next half hour staring up at the ceiling, doing his level best to get Lindsay McAllister off his mind. Images of Lindsay in Dr. Nathan Klyce’s arms kept flashing through his mind. The harder he tried to stop thinking about her, the more vivid his thoughts became.
Lindsay in her simple, little black dress. Both elegant and sexy, without even trying. She probably didn’t have any idea how appealing her fresh, wholesome type of beauty was. Nothing false, nothing overdone. Natural. That’s what Lindsay was—a natural beauty.
At two-fifteen, Judd got up, yanked a pair of jeans from his still unpacked suitcase and put them on. Then he donned a ratty, seen-better-days sweatshirt and, in his bare feet, padded out of the bedroom and downstairs. He headed straight for the bar in Griff’s study, poured himself a glass of bourbon and sat down in front of the fireplace. The last embers of yesterday’s fire blinked reddish gold as the heat from the burning logs diminished.
Judd sniffed the bourbon. Liquor had been his companion over the past few years, neither a friend nor an enemy, just there when he needed it. Then sometime last year, his drinking had gotten out of hand, going from bad to worse, as it had in those first few months following Jennifer’s murder.
After what happened with Lindsay six months ago, he’d gone cold turkey for weeks, proving to himself that he could kick the habit, that he was not an alcoholic. But his sobriety hadn’t lasted. At the first sign of trouble, he had turned to his trusty companion.
His hand trembled. The bourbon sloshed around inside the glass.
Judd cursed under his breath.
He brought the glass to his lips. Lindsay’s blue eyes stared at him. Eyes filled with heartbroken tears.
Judd threw the glass into the fireplace. The bourbon sizzled as it hit the simmering hot wood, creating sparks, and the tumbler shattered into pieces.
As Lindsay exited off I-40 at two-thirty Sunday morning, she questioned her sanity. Nathan had tried to persuade her to stay the night, but she had known she couldn’t. Not after the way she had treated him.
“I’ll sleep on the sofa,” he’d told her. “It’s still raining, maybe sleeting a little. Besides, I don’t think you should try to drive home at this time of night. Not in your condition.”
Her condition?
That had been Nathan’s kind way of saying she was an emotional wreck.
Nathan was a kind man. An understanding man. God, any other man would have been angry with her, and would have had every right to be.
She had shaken her head, lifted her hand to caress his face and thought better of the idea. “I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to lead you on, to be a tease.” She’d swallowed her tears. “I–I need to go. Please, don’t worry about me. I’ll be all right.”
Yeah, sure.
She had lied to him and lied to herself.
She wasn’t all right.
What should have been a beautiful evening with a wonderful man had turned into a fiasco. And it was all her fault. Nathan had been patient; he hadn’t pushed her into a sexual relationship. No, she’d been the one who had made the decision to spend the night with him, for them to move beyond friendship and become lovers.
Right now, she felt like the biggest fool on earth.
With one hand on the wheel, she reached up with the other and swiped the tears from her cheeks. She’d been crying on and off for over an hour.
Enough already
. What was done was done. She couldn’t change the sequence of events. But if she could …
She would go back to that moment when she had fled the dance floor, trying to escape from Judd. What on earth had possessed her to fly straight into Nathan’s arms and all but beg him to take her home right then and there and make love to her?
Because you were running scared
.
Scared of her feelings for Judd. Worried that he might use her and then discard her. Puzzled by the very fact that he had attended the dinner dance at the Willows Country Club when, for nearly four years, he had avoided socializing as if it were a plague.
So, what should she do now? What if she went home and Judd was there waiting for her?
After they had gone to Nathan’s home, she had gotten as far as stripping down to her panties and bra; but when Nathan had released the front hook on her bra, she had balked. He had kissed her neck while he cupped one hip and hadn’t immediately realized she was withdrawing from him. She’d wanted to be with him, had wanted them to make love, but something inside her shut down when the moment of truth arrived.
Nathan had been frustrated and hurt. But not angry.
Dear sweet Nathan.
Lindsay wouldn’t be seeing him again. There was no point in putting either of them through the hell of trying to make a going-nowhere relationship work.
Not as long as she was in love with Judd Walker …
Whenever Ruddy had difficulty sleeping, he took a hot bath and soaked until the water turned tepid. Tonight had been such fun that he’d found himself on an adrenaline high afterward. But the bath had helped relax and soothe him, enough that perhaps he could catch a few hours of restful sleep before heading to the airport to catch his Sunday noon flight to Birmingham. The very thought of meeting with LaShae at an out-of-the-way bar and restaurant on the outskirts of the city excited him. He had chosen a very simple disguise for their first encounter. A dark blond wig and bright sky-blue contacts. After all, who would remember him if he was with LaShae. If they were noticed, all eyes would be on her.
Ruddy had gone to great lengths to cover his tracks. John Chapman, the alias he used to rent the cabin in Guntersville, was for all intents and purposes still in Guntersville. The real Ruddy had been seen by hundreds at the charity auction in Knoxville tonight. Flying back and forth from Birmingham might be time-consuming, but well worth the effort. He didn’t think the FBI or Griffin Powell would ever figure out who the real BQ Killer was, but just in case … Besides, he enjoyed creating a tangled web of lies. It simply added to the thrill of the game.
The more convoluted and confusing he made things for the authorities, the better. John Chapman wasn’t in Birmingham nor was Ruddy. But LaShae Goodloe’s killer would be. Tonight.
He would practice his story on the flight from Knoxville to Birmingham. While others slept, read, or talked to one another, he would close his eyes and mentally go over not only everything he would say to LaShae, but the way he would say it. Humble. Slightly uneasy. Needy. Sympathetic. A sweet, pitiful young man whose life had been ruined because a mini ster he and his family had trusted had raped him.
As he wrapped the white robe around him, savoring the delicious warmth, Ruddy smiled.
His first meeting with LaShae would set the groundwork for their second meeting. Once they were together this evening, he would be able to decide if it would take one more or two more secret meetings with her before she trusted him enough to come to his motel room.
Quivers of anticipation rippled through him as he walked into the adjoining bedroom. In his mind, he could see LaShae in a seedy motel room with him, there because she wanted to help him, and all the while she would be walking into a trap.
He would have everything waiting for her. If she didn’t drink the doctored cola he would provide for her, then a whiff of ether on a handkerchief would render her groggy long enough to subdue her without any noise.
Ruddy removed his robe, folded it neatly over the nearby chair and got into bed. As he pulled the down comforter up to his chin, he sighed with contentment.
How would he kill LaShae?
So many of the pretty flowers had had pretty voices. And there was only so many ways to silence a singer: Throat slit; vocal cords severed; tongue cut out; head chopped off. In the past, he had chosen the former three, but his cousin Pudge hadn’t had a problem with chopping off heads. Two heads to be exact. The most recent had been last year—a former Cotton Queen who’d lived in Cullman, Alabama.
Perhaps he should try it. Now would be the time if he was going to do it. After all, only one more kill after LaShae and he could win the game. Their scores were so close now that it could easily go either way. If something went wrong …
Things would never be the same again when this game ended. Pudge would be gone and he’d be left all alone.
Why oh why had they decided to make the end of this game so final—for one of them? It had been Pudge’s idea, hadn’t it? Or had it been his? For the life of him, he couldn’t remember. They’d been discussing the rules, making them up as they went along, not deciding definitely on everything until after the first few kills. And it had been almost a year into the game before they’d added that one last stipulation.
“To keep us on our toes,” he remembered saying.
“To keep the game from becoming dull,” Pudge had countered.
Ruddy’s eyelids grew heavy. He yawned. Sleep. He needed sleep.
But how could he rest, when his mind wouldn’t shut off, wouldn’t let him stop thinking.
If you must think, think about
more pleasant things than the fact that the end of our five-year game is near. Think about how much fun you had at the
dinner dance last night. You mixed and mingled with everyone
of any importance in Knoxville, a few of them even old
friends from out of town and out of state. You even had a
conversation with Griffin
.
Ruddy chuckled to himself, loving the irony. Griffin Powell had spent almost four years searching in vain for the Beauty Queen Killer. If only the man knew how many times their paths had crossed, how many times they’d shaken hands and indulged in idle conversation.
Too bad you’ll never know that I’m the man you’re seeking.
You’d be so surprised
.
Lindsay parked her Trailblazer in the garage, used her key to the backdoor, hurriedly tapped in the security code, and closed the door behind her. She rearmed the system and quietly walked through the kitchen. The silent stillness assured her that no one was awake, that neither Judd nor Griff would meet her and ask for explanations. Where have you been young lady? What are you doing coming home at this hour of the morning?
Making her way through the house, down the hallway toward the staircase, she breathed a sigh of relief. Almost home free. If she could make it upstairs to her room, no one would know what time she had arrived home.
It wasn’t Griff that concerned her, although she knew he worried about her. Like a big brother. He had encouraged her to start dating and had approved of Nathan. But he’d also had reservations about her rushing into a commitment, even a temporary one. Now, she realized that Griff had been right to have concerns.
If she could make it to her room, no one would know that she hadn’t spent most of the night with Nathan.
Admit it, you don’t want Judd to know
.
And just why is that?
Because her personal life was none of Judd’s business.
That’s not the reason
.
Okay, so she wanted Judd to think she’d had sex with Nathan, that she’d spent the entire night in another man’s bed.
When Lindsay was only a few feet from the foyer and the stairs that led up to the privacy and safety of her bedroom, she made the mistake of glancing into the dark living room. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw the black silhouette of a man standing by the expanse of windows, his body illuminated by the distant security lights outside along the lakeshore. It wasn’t Griff. The shadow wasn’t tall enough to be Griff, nor was it short enough to be Sanders.
“Judd?”
She didn’t realize she had said his name aloud until the dark shadow turned around and faced her.
“Hello, Lindsay.”
Say good night and go to bed
, she told herself. Instead she walked into the living room. Just a few feet.
Don’t go
any farther. Keep a safe distance away from him
. But it was already too late. She had deliberately entered the danger zone.
He came toward her, a few hesitant steps at a time.
Run like hell. Now!
“You didn’t stay all night,” Judd said, his voice deep, low, and frighteningly soft.
“No, I didn’t.”
Silence.
He took several more steps toward her.
Her heartbeat accelerated.
“I don’t usually stay the night when I go home with Nathan,” she lied.
“Why not?”
Her erratic pulse pounded so loudly inside her head that she barely heard his succinct question.
She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out, not a single word. After all, what explanation could she give him that wouldn’t ring false?
Judd moved closer until only a few feet separated them.
Thank God, I can’t see him clearly and he can’t see me
. If he could see her eyes, the expression on her face, he would know the truth. Over the years, Judd had learned to read her, as if she were an open book. No mysteries. Nothing hidden. All revealed.
