Page 146 of Liar's Point

“Brand-new,” he said. “Only the best for my wife.”

She made a muffled sound. She needed the tape gone if she was going to have any hope of reasoning with him.

He stood up. His smile widened as he reached over and tugged the corner of the duct tape.

“Don’t scream, babe.”

He gave the tape a yank, and her face felt like it had been seared off. Tears sprang into her eyes, and she staggered backward.

“You were saying something?” He tossed the tape to the ground.

She tried to move her lips, but they didn’t seem to work. She ran her tongue over them and tasted glue.

“This plan...” she croaked. “It’s never going to work, Malcom.”

“Ah, but you don’t know the plan.” He smiled again, and the giddy look in his eyes chilled her to her core. “And it will work because you’ve already laid the groundwork for me by making arrangements to leave town. Thank you, by the way.”

The drone in his hand came to life with a buzz. It lifted into the air, and he tipped his head back to watch.

“Beautiful, isn’t she?” He used a remote control to make it do a series of wide circles over their heads.

While he was distracted, she darted her gaze around. Where were they? Someplace isolated, obviously. She glanced back at the corrugated metal wall. The winter sun glinted off the coils of razor wire along the top. A few yards away was a rusted gate with one of those electronic keypads mounted on a pole beside it. Over the drone’s hum, she heard the faint noise of some sort of heavy machine off in the distance.

“Don’t you want to see?”

She turned to Malcom. His state-of-the-art device hovered over them, but he wasn’t admiring it anymore. His attention was on an iPad now.

Swallowing the sour taste in her mouth, she stepped over. On the tablet’s screen was a video feed showing an aerial view of the silver car and the tops of their heads.

The drone gained altitude, and she looked up to watch it sail to the other side of the wall. She glanced at the tablet, and her stomach took a nosedive.

The screen showed a hideous labyrinth of... junk, apparently. Smashed cars. Rusted appliances. Piles of rebar.

She jerked her gaze to his. “What is this?”

“Watch.”

He stepped closer, shoving the tablet in front of her, and the scent of his cologne made her want to retch.

The drone dipped lower, making her dizzy as it zoomed over rows and rows of auto carcasses, old refrigerators, rusted tractor wheels. It came to a clearing in the dirt, and then a yellow backhoe appeared on the screen. Someone in a white hard hat was operating the machine, and her heart gave a lurch. Was this someone who could help her?

“Do you like it?”

She looked up at Malcom. “Like what?”

He nodded at the screen, and the camera dipped lower. She watched the big yellow claw reach down and scoop a mound of dirt.

“What...?” Her voice trailed off as understanding dawned.

“For you, Catherine. Your final resting place.”

CHAPTER

TWENTY-SEVEN

They swung onto the dirt road and followed the cloud of dust. They had caught up to the others, and Nicole was keeping track of updates on Emmet’s phone as he drove. She entered their location into her navigation program, and her stomach sank.

“Oh no.”

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