Page 65 of Secret Stalker

On the screen, Bex had just smashed a wine bottle against the side of Bobby’s head. He dropped to the floor like a stone.

Marcia keened an animallike cry between her clenched teeth.

“Oh, good grief,” Deacon said. “Even after seeing her supposed boyfriend trying to rape another woman, she’s still upset over him getting hurt. You really need professional help, Marcia, love.”

Max had a pretty good idea that Deacon was the one who needed professional help. All these years he’d thought Bobby was the only crazy one. Apparently the crazy gene ran in the family.

As Bex ran out of the cabin on the TV, Max inched his way toward Deacon, very slowly so as not to draw his attention.

Deacon stared at the screen, his eyes lit with a half-mad light. “And now, folks. We’ve finally reached the good part.”

Max looked at the screen. A man wearing a dark jacket with a hood over his head entered the cabin and bent over Bobby. He slapped Bobby’s face several times. Bobby winced, then his eyes fluttered open.

“Ah, there, you see?” Deacon said. “Bex didn’t kill my brother after all. That’s what I wanted you both to know. Now watch very closely.”

It didn’t take long. The man in the cabin, with his back to the screen, was apparently arguing with Bobby. Bobby shoved him out of his way and headed for the door. The bat seemed to come out of nowhere, swinging right for the middle of Bobby’s back. His body slammed against the door and plopped down onto his back on the floor, a trickle of blood dribbling out from the corner of his mouth. The bat slammed down again, this time on Bobby’s stomach. Again and again it came down. Bobby raised his hands to protect himself and rolled over, trying to push himself up. The bat came down once more, twice, and then Bobby was still.

Max stared in horror at the screen. Marcia had covered her mouth with her hands. And then the hooded man turned around, looked directly up at the camera, and smiled.

The same smile Deacon Caldwell was giving Max.

“Now you know,” he said, sounding as if they were discussing the best crops to plant next spring, his voice relaxed and upbeat.

They were in big trouble.

Max glanced at Marcia, then toward the French door behind her. She gave him a subtle nod, letting him know she understood.

He took a step toward Deacon as the movie went to black-and-white snow before replaying on a loop. “Why did you keep that recording all these years? And why play it now?” He intentionally positioned himself to give Marcia the most cover, moving another step forward to hold Deacon’s attention.

The rifle pointed straight at him. Deacon held it at hip level, both hands keeping it steady. “Not another step, Max. I just did you a favor. I saved your life out there.”

“You did. And for that I’m grateful. But I’m not so sure you intend for me to live out the rest of this evening. Otherwise you wouldn’t have played that movie.”

“Well, yes. There is that. I might have lied just a bit about not wanting to hurt either of you,” he conceded in a companionable voice. “It’s been so hard keeping that secret all these years when all I ever wanted to do was brag to anyone who would listen that I’d finally erased that scumbag from the Earth. He was sick. I could tell you stories for days about the things he did. But it didn’t matter. Not to our father. He knew how evil Bobby was. But he was the firstborn, the heir. So Daddy dearest did nothing, turned the other way. The only concession to Bobby’s sick tendencies was that Dad hired all those security thugs to keep an eye on him. Not that they did much good. Bobby had his hands in Daddy’s money already and he used it to grease the palms of the guys who worked for our father. Soon they were his cohorts, covering his tracks instead of stopping him. You know that better than anyone, Max. They must have beaten you up half a dozen times while you were trying to get Bobby to back off from Bex. You should be thanking me for killing him.”

“I repeat, why save the recording?” Max asked.

“For Bex, of course. I like Bex. She was always good to me back in school, even in middle school when I got teased and picked on so much, before I grew bigger and taller than the bullies and they became afraid of me. Before all that, Bex would take up for me, tell the bullies to leave me alone. Don’t you remember the early years of middle school when the girls were taller than us, before we sprouted up? I do. Bex saved me from a lot of beatings back in the day. And I always regretted that I couldn’t do more for her. Until Bobby. When I finally realized what he was doing, I vowed to figure out how to stop him once and for all. So I did. I saved Bex. And I cleaned up all the evidence of her having been there so your boss couldn’t prosecute.”

Max took another step toward Deacon, then stopped when the rifle raised to chest level. He put his hands in the air and wondered if Marcia was close enough to the door yet to make a run for it. “Easy, Deacon. I’m just trying to understand here. You saved Bex by killing Bobby, but then you let everyone think she was the one who killed him. Why?”

Deacon winced. “I hated that part. Of course, I didn’t want to go to prison. But I would have, if I had to. I saved that recording, and all of the evidence I took from the cabin, to use one day if I absolutely had to in order to keep her from being convicted. I would have sacrificed myself for her if it was necessary. You have to believe that. It’s the only reason I saved such damning evidence.”

He didn’t know what to believe. But he played along. Why hadn’t Marcia gone outside yet?

“I believe you,” Max lied. “You were a good friend to Bex.”

“Yes. I was.”

“So what happens now?”

Deacon sighed. “Sadly, you and Marcia have to die. Neither of you will let Bobby’s murder go. Ever since Bex came back to town, you’ve started digging, digging, digging. That has to stop. With you and Marcia gone, and my dad dying soon from the cancer, there won’t be anyone left who cares enough to push for answers about Bobby’s death.”

Deacon’s finger moved from the frame of the rifle to the trigger.

Max tried to stall him a little longer, inching closer. “Wait. I don’t understand why you hired those gunmen—to grab Bex at the Piggly Wiggly? Or to scare her?”

Deacon shook his head. “Don’t ask me. That was all dear old Dad’s doing. Say a quick prayer, Max. Renounce your sins. Because you’re about to meet your maker.”

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