Page 64 of Secret Stalker

Max directed Marcia to a chair beside the couch. “Sit down. Don’t make me chase you. I’m mad as hell at you and won’t take kindly to having to run out in that storm after you again.”

She rolled her eyes and plopped down, crossing her arms and promptly ignoring both of them.

“Mad as a hatter,” Deacon said.

Marcia glared at him, then turned away.

Max shook his head. “I don’t think Marcia’s insane. I think she knows exactly what she’s doing. She must have planned this from the moment she saw Bex and me in town.”

“What exactly did she do?” Deacon asked.

“Set my back deck on fire, for starters. I saw flames flickering outside and ran out to see what was going on, thinking lightning might have hit something close by. She was waiting right outside the sliding glass doors with her rifle. The rain put the flames out pretty quick and she poured a bottle of blood onto my hand and made me press it against the glass. Bex is going to think the worst if she wakes up and sees that.”

“It was possum blood. But your girlfriend won’t know that. She’ll think you got hit by lightning and you’re done for. It’ll be nice for her to be scared for a change, for her to see how it feels to have someone you love die,” Marcia said.

“That was your plan?” Max asked. “To kill me in that cabin? Like you killed Bobby?”

Her eyes widened. “I didn’t kill Bobby. Bex did.”

Was Deacon right? Had Marcia lost her sanity and convinced herself she hadn’t done what was now obvious? He studied her carefully as he said, “Bex didn’t kill Bobby.”

“Oh, please. Everyone knows she did.”

“I’m afraid that’s my fault,” Deacon said, sounding regretful. “I allowed everyone to think that for so long that after a while it seemed more like fact than conjecture.”

Max grew very still and turned toward Deacon. “What are you talking about?”

The rifle in Deacon’s hand lifted, pointing straight at Max’s gut. “I think it will be better if I show you. Marcia, be a dear and get the DVD out from beneath the TV over there, the one on the bottom in the red case.” He shrugged. “Red seemed only fitting. Makes it easy to find, too.”

Marcia hesitated, looking confused.

The rifle swung toward her. “Hurry up,” Deacon ordered. “Knowing dear old Dad, he’ll make one of his men bring him over here to check on me in this storm. Not because he gives a damn but because the chosen one is long dead and I’m the only heir he has left.” His mouth twisted in a sneer. “I’d rather have all of this over with before he does. It will be easier that way.”

“What will be easier?” Max asked, taking a step toward the other man.

“Don’t,” Deacon said, aiming the rifle at him again. “I don’t want to hurt anyone. Don’t force my hand. All I want you to do is watch a movie. Marcia, if you please.”

She pressed a button, and a black-and-white picture displayed on the TV. Max recognized it immediately.

“That’s the interior of the cabin where your brother was killed.”

“Yes, it is. Father is a bit obsessive about security. He has cameras all over the place. Imagine my surprise when I discovered he had one at the cabin. Thank goodness I was smart enough to look for it. This is the recording from that day. Oh, I have to warn you. Parts of it might be hard for you to watch, Max. And the end, Marcia, I guarantee you won’t appreciate that part. But I’m looking forward to our little movie night. I’ve been wanting to set the record straight for some time now.”

The door opened on the screen.

“Ah, here we go,” Deacon said. “Too bad we don’t have popcorn. Ah, well. It’s not like I planned this for tonight. When I saw Marcia out skulking around the property, I had to act fast. But I’m rather good at making the best of a bad situation. You’ll see.”

Max clenched his fists at his sides as, on the screen, Bex entered the cabin. There was no sound. But he could see the puzzlement on her face as she looked around. And he could clearly read her lips as she apparently called out, “Max?”

“Isn’t that sweet?” Deacon said. “She’s looking for her lover, for Max. Marcia, you’ll want to pay particularly close attention to this next part. You’ve convinced yourself that Bobby loved you, that he wasn’t using you for sex every time he went after his primary target and failed. I mean, come on, Marcia. Did you really think Bex wanted Bobby? He was a slimeball. He stalked her for months. And every time someone saved her from his clutches, he’d run to you so he could pound out his frustration inside your body. That wasn’t love, my dear. That was abuse. The man was sick.”

Marcia stood off to the side, her face pale from both Deacon’s words and the tableau playing out on the screen.

Max wasn’t doing much better himself. He was sick to his stomach seeing Bobby surprise Bex in the cabin, then throw her to the floor, pawing at her and forcing her to suffer his groping hands all over her body. If Bobby Caldwell had been alive today, Max would be hard-pressed not to kill him himself.

“Turn it off,” Max ordered.

“And miss the best part? I think not.” He winced. “Oh, that had to hurt.”

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