Murder at Castle Rock Page 17

  The cameras that sat on tripods in both wings of the stage. Camera Three would be located somewhere in the wings of stage left. I aimed my flashlight beam in that direction and spotted several cameras still set up from Monday night's filming.

  "I'm starting to think maybe this isn't such a good idea, Ame." Bronwyn appeared at my elbow. She nervously tugged my sleeve. "We just made a hell of a racket. Maybe we should get out of here."

  "Not yet." I shrugged her off. I had my eyes on the prize now. I was mere feet away from the camera that held the evidence I needed. "We've made it this far. No turning back now."

  "She's got a point," Tony said from stage right. "You said yourself that a patrolman could be back any minute. Bronwyn, why don't you and I go keep an eye out for the security guards?"

  "Let's do it." Bron nodded emphatically, joining him at stage right.

  "Alright. Bron, you should keep an eye out near the window. Tony, head downstairs and guard the back door. I'll be out soon." I watched as Tony turned toward the door, and Bronwyn scurried after him. Alone at last, I edged my way through the amps and speakers to stage left. I scanned the three tripods that were set up in the wing, recalling from memory Bobby's stage diagram and the labels for each camera. "One…Two…Three. Bingo!" I whispered triumphantly as I spotted the camera that corresponded to the number three on the set-up diagram. I drew close to the tripod and stepped around to the other side. Sure enough, this camera was facing directly across the stage. Peeking through the lens, I could see that it would have picked up anyone standing in the opposite wing. Finally, the evidence I needed, in high-def!

  My excitement mounted as I flipped back the plastic lid to retrieve the camera's memory card. An empty slot stared back at me. "Hmm." I frowned, searching the recording device for any other openings or slots. There were none. Disappointment crashed over me. Someone had beaten me to the memory card. The evidence I needed was gone. "Back to square one," I muttered.

  A scream pieced the air, causing me to jump. Bronwyn! I scrambled across the stage and back into the hallway, the beam of my flashlight bouncing ahead of me to light the way. Bronwyn wasn't at her post by the window. Skidding to a stop by the glass, I peered out into the rainy night. Another vehicle was parked next to ours. Panic seized my chest.

  It was the green truck—the killer had found us.

  Another scream sounded somewhere above me. The tower. I couldn't let Bronwyn meet the same fate as Parker. Hoping Tony had heard the commotion and would come give me backup, I ducked under the yellow police tape. I bolted up the winding stairwell as fast as my legs could carry me. Rounding the last twist of the steps, I rammed my shoulder into the door at the top. It gave way easily, and I stumbled into the dark tower room. My flashlight slipped from my grip and clattered down the steep stairwell. Shit.

  I squinted, waiting for my eyes to adjust to my dim lighting of the tower. The circular room was small and bare. The only way in or out was through the stairwell I'd just taken, which was concealed from the rest of the room by a column at its center. Bronwyn had to be on the other side of the column.

  "Bron?" I whispered loudly. No answer. I cautiously edged in a circle around the column.

  Bronwyn stood on the other side of the room, her back against the tower's balcony ledge. Her arms were still by her sides, and her face was twisted in a look of surprised fear. "Bronwyn!" Relieved to see her unharmed, I rushed forward.

  Big mistake.

  "Uh, Ame…" Bronwyn's eyes were fixed on a point behind me. A deadly metallic clink echoed throughout the tower, and terror iced through me as something cold brushed against the back of my neck. I pivoted slowly, finding myself face-to-barrel with a nine millimeter.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  "About time you joined us," Tony jeered, pointing the gun at my temple. "You saved me the trouble of having to come back downstairs to get you." I winced and drew back, but the gun followed.

  Tony seemed like a completely different person than the man I'd kissed the night before. His once charming smile had twisted into a malevolent sneer. The warmth in his grey eyes was gone, replaced with bitterness and malice. Even the way he carried himself had changed. He stood a little taller, towering menacingly over Bronwyn and me.

  "Why are you doing this?" I asked quietly. This has to be a mistake. This isn't Tony—it's his evil twin, just like in the movies. The real Tony will come running up here any moment to save us from this bizarro him. Even as the thoughts pinged through me, I knew they weren't true. The Tony I knew wasn't real. This monster was.

  "Just doing my job, toots." Tony barked a spiteful laugh. His wicked glee made my stomach turn. Tony nudged me with the weapon and motioned for me back up next to Bronwyn on the balcony ledge. The cold, wet stones of the tower wall pressed against me. The storm had gathered strength, and rain poured sideways onto the balcony, soaking my hair and neck. I shivered, more from fear than the cold. How could I have been so stupid? All this time, I'd been flirting with the enemy. I'd trusted Tony—and I'd told him everything I knew about Stone, Kat's marriage, Parker's and Laura's deaths…and all this time he'd been waiting for his chance to kill me. Worse, I'd brought Bronwyn along with me like a lamb to slaughter.

  I glanced sideways at Bron. Her usual cream complexion and rosy cheeks were an ashen white, and her green eyes wide with fear. "W-what do you want from us?" Her voice trembled.

  Tony chuckled. "What do I want from you? Not a thing, half-pint. You're just a bonus kill." He reached over and ruffled her pink hair. Bronwyn blanched, jerking her head away from him. Tony's smile faded. "Did I say you could move?" He reared his hand back and smacked her across her cheek.

  It took every ounce of my will not to launch myself at him when he struck her. He'd likely shoot me on the spot, and I could do nothing to help Bronwyn if I was dead. I bit my tongue and forced myself to remain still. Bron yelped, but she refused to cry. Her jaw clenched, and she narrowed her eyes at him. "Bonus kill?"

  "You just had to come along for the ride." Tony grinned. "Poor Reese!" he said, mimicking her. "I just have to help him." He snorted. "Sorry, Bron. You can't help him now—and I can't let you leave." Tony kept his gun trained on me with one arm while slinging the other around my shoulders. "My girl here, though, she's on the list."

  "The list?" I asked.

  Tony's cold, grey eyes bored into mine. He lowered his gaze to my chest and continued down the length of my body. He pressed his body tightly against my backside. "It's a shame I didn't get into those pants before the boss decided he wanted you dead." Tony slid his arm down my collarbone and splayed his fingers to cup my left breast. I shuddered, fighting the urge to spit in his face. Creep.

  "Stone," I said, trying to distract him. "He's the boss, right? You told him I knew he killed Parker, so he told you to get rid of me."

  "You're giving him too much credit." Tony released me and backed up a few steps, leaving the handgun trained expertly at my right temple. "Stone orders the hits, but yours truly does all the dirty work." He hooked his thumb toward his chest, beaming with malicious pride.

  I gaped at him. "You killed Parker?"

  "Sure did, princess—and I didn't even have to waste a bullet. I checked in with Stone backstage to confirm the target. Then I hid in the tower stairwell until Parker was alone. I heard Kat say she needed to talk to him. All I had to do was tell him she was waiting for him in the tower, then follow him up and clock him on the back of the head with my gun. He practically fell over the balcony edge on his own—just needed the tiniest little push." Tony reached out one arm and poked the air in front of him with one finger, like he was knocking over a string of dominoes.

  I fought back the bile rising in my throat. I glanced at Bronwyn, who looked equally sick. I had to find a way to get her out of the tower alive. The truck! I remembered the green truck that had parked next to the van downstairs. Someone else was here. If Tony was Stone's goon, then maybe the driver of the mystery vehicle wasn't bad after all. It could be one of Sinclair's
officers. If I could stall long enough, maybe whoever it was would find us before it was too late. I just needed to buy a little time.

  "Why did Stone want Parker dead?" I asked Tony. "And you were with me when Laura was shot. If Stone didn't want to get his hands dirty, then who shot her?"

  "I did." A familiar nasally voice called from the stairwell entrance. I gasped as Stacy Jefferson strolled around the corner wearing a raincoat, her signature stilettos, and an evil grin.

  "You?" I gaped at her.

  "Guilty!" She giggled and sidled up to Tony, throwing her arms around him. "This is that new boyfriend from Vegas I told you about." She smirked. "See? Devastatingly handsome, just like I said." She pressed her lips to his in a passionate kiss. Tony kissed her back and wrapped his free arm around her, but his eyes never left mine. The aim of his gun never wavered. I recalled the McDonald's cup he offered me in the van after the car chase, the one with the stains on the straw—the same shade of red as the lipstick that she-devil was smearing all over his face and neck. The night at The Cavern… it was all for show. Tony's interest in me had all been an act, just a way to find out how much I knew about Stone. The person I hated most in this world had helped him play me. Yeah, I was definitely going to be sick.

  Stacy's nauseating perfume wafted under my nose, and something else clicked in my memory. It was the same scent that I'd noticed out by the dumpsters when we found Laura, and before that in the downstairs hallway by Kat's office.

  "You hid in Kat's office after you shot Laura."

  Stacy peeled herself off Tony long enough to shrug and hold her hands together as if she were being handcuffed. "Way to go, Nancy Drew," she sang in a mocking tone. "I thought you were going to walk in there and find me. At least then I could've taken care of you. I was waiting for Kat to come back so I could shoot her, but Laura saw me." She shrugged. "Too bad, so sad."

  Bronwyn had been silent until now. "You planted the handgun in Reese's coat." Her green eyes flashed angrily.

  Stacy held out her hand and examined nails, looking bored. "Babe," she said, yawning. "Can you get rid of Graceless and the pipsqueak already? I wanna go dancing after."

  Tony switched his aim from me to Bronwyn, ready to pull the trigger. Bron cowered on the wet stone floor, shielding her head with her arms.

  "Wait!" I cried, stalling. "Stacy, why did you come back here last night after everyone left?"

  Tony relaxed his trigger finger, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Bronwyn sag with relief. He glanced at his girlfriend. "Stace drove my truck back to get that precious memory card you were looking for. Wouldn't look good if the cops saw a clip of me talking to Stone backstage, now would it?" He scowled at both Stacy and me. "But you just had to see who was here when we drove by—I would've just pulled into the parking lot and killed you then if Miss Leadfoot here hadn't put the pedal down. I had to make sure she didn't wreck my baby."

  Stacy poked out her red lips in an ugly pout. "I was just having a little fun," she whined. "And I thought I was your baby."

  "Was it fun when you nearly killed me?"

  "I said I was sorry!" Stacy crossed her arms over her chest. "How was I supposed to know all your stupid car scraps were going to fall out? I drive a Camaro! I don't have to worry about that kind of stuff."

  Tony grumbled under his breath. "Anyway," he said, turning back to me. "I would've offed you once I pulled the van over, but that stupid bozo rocker and his pretty boy bass player had to show up and whisk you away."

  Jared and Bobby had saved my life. Too bad they weren't here to bail us out now.

  "Babe," Stacy whined again. "Just kill them already. I'm getting antsy."

  "Just tell me one last thing," I hedged. "Why are you doing all of this?"

  Stacy rolled her eyes. "If you must know, Stone and Daddy wanted to buy Castle Rock. Our Florida venues have casinos on the bottom floors, but the rest of our East Coast locations are in states where gambling is illegal. That's why we're going to remodel the back rooms of our bigger venues and build secret casinos."

  "An illegal gambling ring," I said, dumbfounded.

  Stacy's mouth twisted in a wicked grin. "It's the perfect cover! There's no reason for anyone to suspect concert venues— we always draw big crowds of people for our shows. We'll just have a secret area in each location where gamblers can go to give us even more of their money." She sneered at me. "Of course, I wouldn't expect you and your stupid boss, Parker, to understand such a brilliant business plan. That jerk wouldn't sell the place, and we couldn't pay him off. Stone and Daddy said he had to go. Parker didn't have a will, so there was nobody to inherit Castle Rock once he died. All of his property and belongings would go to the state, and then Shawn could've used Daddy's connections to purchase this lot and Castle Rock for a good price."

  "But they couldn't because all of his belongings, including Castle Rock, went to Kat," I said, putting the pieces together.

  Stacy shrugged. "Not for long. We'll just have to get rid of her too. Make it look like a suicide, like she couldn't take losing her precious husband. Or," she smirked, "we could just pin Parker's death on her. Then this place is all ours." She swept her hand around the tower room. "It's going to be perfect! Daddy and Stone are going to wall up this balcony and then bring in some slot machines and black jack tables. It's a shame you won't be around to see it."

  I gulped. I'd known Owen Jefferson and his spoiled rotten daughter were scum, but I'd had no idea just how low they'd really gone. They were conducting illegal business with a dangerous mob family, bent on killing off anyone who wasn't willing to cooperate with their new plan for a chain of black market casinos. Parker had left Kat his most prized possession—Castle Rock—and in doing so had signed her death warrant. With Parker gone and me soon out of the way, Tony and Stacy would kill Kat, and Owen and Stone would get Castle Rock.

  Funny, when things like this happened in the movies, the good guys always won. I didn't see any way that we could get out of this, though. Bronwyn and I were cornered, and the only person who had known we would be here was Tony—and Mr. Not-So-Right-After-All was ready to blow my brains out.

  "Would you light a smoke for me, babe?" Tony asked Stacy. He eyed me warily and steadied his aim.

  She wrinkled her nose. "Gross! No way. I hate kissing you when you taste like an ashtray." I hoped her nasal voice wasn't the last thing I heard before I died. "Those things will kill you, you know."

  Tony rolled his eyes. "Not as fast as this will," he said, gesturing with the gun. When Stacy didn't make a move to assist him, he jerked the pack and lighter out of his back pocket with his free hand. "Fine. Keep an eye on them," he said. He took his aim off me and tucked the weapon under his armpit while he quickly pulled a cigarette from the pack and lit it.

  That's when all hell broke loose.

  Bronwyn had gone deadly silent ever since Tony pointed the gun at her. Seeing an opportunity to fight back, she fearlessly launched herself at him, trying to swipe the weapon away. Score one for the good guys! Screeching like a banshee, she ducked her head low and charged him, connecting with his abdomen and sending them both flying backward onto the tower floor. The cigarette dropped from Tony's lips, and he gave a surprised howl as the back of his head smacked hard against the stone. I heard a sickening crack, and he went silent. I hoped he was dead. The handgun came loose from under the crook of his arm. Bronwyn smacked it with her arm as she toppled onto Tony. The weapon skidded across the floor.

  Stacy and I stood gaping at the two tangled bodies on the floor. I snapped out of my trance first and lunged forward, going after the loose firearm. Stacy realized what I was up to and was only a split second behind me. We reached the gun at the same time, and she yanked my hair back, wrestling me away from it. "You're not going to ruin this for me, Amelia!" she shrieked. I screamed as her grip on my hair tightened, but I held onto the weapon for dear life, jerking this way and that to pull out of her grasp.

  Across the room, Bronwyn grunted and struggled to
pull herself off Tony's motionless body. "I could use a little help over here, Bron!" I called. I thrust an elbow back as hard as I could, landing a direct blow to Stacy's windpipe. She yelped and released her grip on me as she writhed on the ground. Stacy coughed and sputtered, and as I rolled onto my back, I noticed with satisfaction that a small stream of blood was trickling from the corner of her mouth. With any luck, I'd silenced her whiny voice permanently.

  With both of our captors at least temporarily out of commission, I picked up the handgun and hauled myself to my feet. I made my way to Bronwyn, who was still working to disentangle her legs from Tony's. Giving her a hand, I pulled her to her feet. "Way to go, Bron," I panted. "I was beginning to think we were done for."

  "I can't believe that worked." She stared in disbelief at Tony's still figure.

  His eyes were closed, and a small pool of blood had formed on the stone floor beneath his head. "Think he's dead?" I asked, poking his leg with the tip of my boot. He didn't move.

  "I hope so," Bronwyn replied. She glared down at him. Rearing back her leg, she brought it forward to kick him in the gut. "That's for threatening to shoot me." She reared back again and kicked him even harder. "And that's for calling me half-pint, you jackass!" We both turned to eye Stacy, who was still rolling around on the ground, clutching her throat. "What should we do with that one?" she asked.

  I opened my mouth to reply, but my words died in my throat. A howl of agony erupted from within me as a searing pain sliced through my left calf. It felt like a hot poker had been buried in my leg. I let go of the gun and dropped to my knees, screamed. I wrenched my head back to see a knife buried deep in my calf. Tony's pocketknife.

  Bronwyn stumbled back as Tony twisted the knife further into my muscle. I screamed bloody murder. He pulled back his hand, leaving the knife firmly embedded in me. "That hurt," he growled, rubbing the back of his head gingerly. "And that." He rubbed his side, where Bron had kicked him.