The Perfect Couple (30 page)

frightening.

Once again, he wiped the sweat rolling down from his hair, smearing Paddy's blood even farther. "I can't! Don't you get it? That private investigator of hers came by only thirty minutes ago. He's already looking for her."

"So? He won't think we have her."

"He will when he finds out she's not in her motel room." He grabbed one of the towels he used to wash the cars and mopped up the blood. "This is exactly where he'll come because it was the last place he knew her to be."

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Tiffany watched him work, watched as each swipe seemed to make a bigger mess. "But how will he find out she's not in her motel room? He doesn't know which motel I chose."

"He can figure it out easily enough."

"How?"

He squirted some cleaner on what remained of the blood. "By calling every motel in Sacramento. He can do that in maybe an hour. And then, when he reaches the one where you registered her, they'll ring her room."

"And she won't pick up."

He got out a garbage bag and put the bloody towel inside it. "So then he'll drive over and go door to door until he finds her. Or he'll use his ID or some cop contact to make the clerk give him her room number. We have to get her where she's supposed to be before that happens."

"But if we let her live, she could tell him you forced her to have sex with you."

He put the cleaner away. "I didn't have sex with her. I didn't get the chance to touch her before my dad arrived."

Despite everything, Tiffany felt a measure of relief at this news. She hated the thought of Colin with Zoe. She didn't care when he made his pets do him sexual favors because he usually made them serve her, too. It was a game. But Zoe was different. "She could remember us taking off her clothes."

"There's no chance of that. She's completely out of it and has been ever since you left."

"But it takes eight hours for a roofie to wear off. At least, it did with me. What if Jonathan Stivers finds her before that and can tell she's been doped up?"

"We'll buy a small bottle of sleeping pills and leave it on the nightstand, so it looks new, as if she bought it herself. He'll assume she took one, and she won't remember what the hell happened, so hopefully she'll go along with it. It's our best shot. If she disappears right now, the whole thing will come crashing down on us."

Tiffany gazed at the inert figure hidden in that blanket. The blood was gone, the rags were gone, the body was neatly put aside so they could carry Zoe through the door and dump her in the car. Maybe there was still hope.

"Okay, so we leave her in the motel room and then we bury...him." She couldn't force herself to say 'Paddy.'"

He tossed the garbage bag with the towel on top of his dead father.

"That's right."

"Where?" she asked.

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"You let me worry about that."

"Okay." Thank God she wouldn't have to deal with the digging.

She took two deeps breaths, then remembered what Colin had said about Sam. "Is it time to kill Sam, too? To get out of it all?"

"No, I'm not done with her yet. But you're going to have to take her to Paddy's cabin. We need her out of the house as soon as possible. I'll stay here and lead the search in the morning like I'm supposed to, then join you tomorrow night."

Tiffany recalled what they'd done to Colin's other pets at that same cabin. Was there such a thing as ghosts? She'd wondered about the possibility before, asked herself if the spirit of the girl Colin had killed there could still be hovering around the place. But the idea had never frightened her as much as it did at this moment. "I don't want to go there by myself, Colin," she said. "Unless you're with me, that place gives me the creeps."

He held the door to the house for her to pass through. "Why? It's just a remote cabin. There isn't a neighbor for miles."

"That's the problem. It's so...isolated. And...what if I get lost? It's tricky driving through those back roads. There aren't many signs."

"Doesn't matter. You've been there often enough to find it."

"I'd rather wait for you."

His fingers bit into the flesh of her arm. "You can't wait for me, damn it! That P.I. is hanging around, looking for Zoe. And when Paddy doesn't show up at home, Sheryl could come over here, too. We can't have Samantha upstairs with all this going on. It's just...too much attention. She might start screaming again. Besides, we need to let people wander through the house at will. How we handle the next twenty-four hours will be very important."

At least this incident had spooked him. At least he wasn't telling her she was worried for nothing. He was worried, too--and finally being cautious. "But what about the boards covering the windows in the bonus room?" she asked. "And the heavy-duty lock on the door?"

"What about them?"

"They could raise questions."

"I'll remove the lock and stick my drums in there to explain the soundproofing." He urged her through the door. "Just help me get Zoe dressed."

Her step faltered. "Oh, no!"

"What?"

"Her clothes are in the trash in the bathroom of a Wendy's!"

With a curse, he shoved her into the house and toward the front door.

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"Go get them while I put her in the trunk. We can dress her at the motel."

With a nod, she hurried to reclaim her shoes--and stepped in a large wet spot that nearly made her retch. It was Paddy's blood...or what was left of it after Colin's attempt to clean up.

"Hurry," he admonished when she froze.

Choking back the bile that rose to her throat, she slipped on her shoes.

She didn't want to think, didn't want to acknowledge that Paddy was gone for good. Because if Colin could kill Paddy, he could kill anyone.

She remembered her husband's hands around her throat the night she'd accidentally let Rover escape. Was it possible that he'd someday kill her?

No. Never. She was special to him. Wasn't she?

"Colin?" she said, hesitating at the door.

The uncertainty in her voice brought him back to the foot of the stairs.

"What?"

"You love me, right?"

"You mean everything to me, Tiff. I'm never going to forget this, I swear."

They'd put it behind them. Somehow. Someway. And then they'd be happy like they were before.

Even without Paddy.

She gave him a smile that trembled on her face. "You'd better wipe that blood off your forehead."

Although her vision was blurry, Zoe could tell she wasn't alone.

Scooting up in the bed, she squinted to see the man sitting across the room from her. But her head throbbed so badly she could scarcely lift it off the pillow, and she couldn't make out his features. The shadows were too deep in that corner; the only light came from the bathroom.

Who was it? Jonathan? It had to be him, didn't it? Anton wasn't part of her life anymore, and her former fiance certainly didn't look that lean or muscular, even in shadow.

Where were they?

In a motel room, obviously. But she couldn't remember which motel, which part of town, how she came to be here or why. Last she could recall, she'd changed her mind about getting a motel room and had decided to let Jonathan put her up. Staying at his house was free, it was safe and she needed his friendship. If allowing herself to lean on him was a mistake, she'd have to deal with the consequences. But she'd do it later, when this catastrophe was over. Breakups weren't that painful, not if she was careful from the start. She'd just be sure to handle Jonathan the same way she 198

handled all men these days--she'd enjoy his company as long as it was better than being alone. But she wouldn't allow herself to become too emotionally attached. Maybe withholding the most intimate, sensitive part of herself wasn't playing fair, but it was the only way to survive.

So, if she wasn't worried about getting hurt, why had she rented a motel room? Or was it Jonathan who'd brought her here?

"Jon?" His name came out as more of a scratchy croak, but the sound was enough to rouse him. His head snapped up as if he'd barely drifted off.

"Zoe?" He stood and walked over to sit on the bed. "You okay?"

She wasn't sure. She felt as if she had the world's biggest hangover.

But she hadn't drunk more than a couple of glasses of wine last night, had she?

She couldn't say for sure. She could remember sitting at the table with Colin and Tiffany, and planning the search for Sam, but nothing that came afterward. "I don't feel so good," she admitted. "What--what happened?

How'd I get here?"

Jonathan smoothed the hair off her forehead. It was a tender touch, the touch one might receive from a lover, and it made her crave more contact with him--the escape he promised just by looking at her, just by being here and being concerned. "Your car's out front. Didn't you drive?" he asked.

"If you didn't bring me, I guess I must have, but...if you weren't with me when I got here, how'd you get in?"

"David."

"Skye's husband?"

"After I tracked you down, you wouldn't answer the door, so I called him and he came over and had the manager open it. We were worried, needed to be sure you were safe."

"So...how did I get here?"

"You can't remember?" he prompted.

There seemed to be a big gap that stretched from dinner until now.

"Maybe it's this headache." Obviously, the constant turmoil and stress were getting to her, playing tricks on her mind. She'd eaten and slept so little over the past week, and she'd mostly picked at the tri tip, mashed potatoes and green beans Colin and Tiffany had served. The alcohol must've hit her harder than she'd realized. "What time is it?"

The digital alarm clock on the nightstand was turned away. He leaned over to check it. "Nearly 4:00 a.m."

"If you didn't bring me here, how'd you know where to find me?" she asked. "Did I call you?"

"No. That's what had me worried. After your text, I couldn't get hold 199

of you--"

"My text?"

He gave her a strange look. "Don't tell me you don't remember that, either."

She must've had some sort of nervous breakdown. She couldn't remember any of it, and that terrified her. Was she losing her mind? Was Samantha's disappearance sending her over the edge?

Frantically searching for some hint of familiarity, she glanced around the room but drew an absolute blank. She was certain she'd never seen this place before. Then she spotted the sleeping pills on the nightstand. She couldn't say where they'd come from, but they had to be the reason she felt so groggy.

Why had she taken a sleeping aid? What if they'd heard some word on Sam? What if Sam had needed her?

Jonathan still sat next to her, but he was preoccupied with his phone.

A moment later, he held it up so she could see the screen.

Not feeling well. Getting a motel. Call u tomorrow.

"That came from me?" she asked.

"At 8:06."

Her heart pounded as she read it again. She could no sooner remember sending that text than driving to this unfamiliar motel. But she didn't want to acknowledge it. Jonathan would think she was going crazy. She was wondering herself. "Oh...yeah. I guess...I guess the sleeping pills made me a little loopy."

"How many did you take?" he asked.

She told him she'd taken two, but she really had no idea.

He shifted on the bed. "Why'd you drive so far from Rocklin, Zoe?

Especially with the search scheduled for early this morning?"

That was a good question. She wished she knew the answer. "I hate to admit it, but...I'm afraid I might've been tipsy when I left Colin and Tiffany's house. I only drank a couple glasses of wine, but..." She rubbed her face. "I can't believe I drove. That was so irresponsible and dangerous."

"The motel clerk said you were sober when you arrived."

"Maybe it hit me afterward." But then, why couldn't she remember coming here? None of it made sense.

"Maybe," he agreed, but he was watching her closely.

"Is everything okay?" she asked.

"It's fine. Go ahead and get some sleep. Hopefully, you'll feel better in 200

the morning."

He started to stand up, but she caught his hand. "Will you stay?"

He didn't question her. He just lay down beside her, and the next thing she knew, her head was on his shoulder, and her hand was on his chest where she could feel the steady rhythm of his heart.

The warmth of his body, even the smell of his clothes and skin, brought her a measure of comfort. Soon the pain and confusion disappeared as she dropped into a dreamless sleep....

201

Something didn't add up. Jonathan couldn't tell what it was, but Zoe had seemed so disoriented, more disoriented than a couple glasses of wine at dinner would warrant. Maybe she'd had a drink or two besides what she'd counted--or was willing to admit to. Or her behavior was due to the combined effects of the alcohol and the sleeping pills. That was plausible, he supposed. But if she'd had too much to drink, why did Colin and Tiffany allow her to drive? According to Colin, she'd been fine when she left his house, and the desk clerk had confirmed it.

As soon as Zoe seemed to be sleeping deeply enough that his movements wouldn't disturb her, Jonathan carefully extricated himself and got up. She'd looked at the text as if she'd never sent it, at the sleeping pills as if she'd never bought them. And even she didn't seem to know why she'd driven thirty minutes to rent a room downtown. There were half a dozen motels in Rocklin, which was where she had to be early in the morning, and rates weren't any cheaper down here....

But it was the state of her clothes that raised the biggest question.

Until he'd talked to her, he'd ignored it as one of those things she'd explain when she woke up. Now that she couldn't seem to explain anything, he couldn't stop thinking about how curious it was. He and David had found her with half the buttons on her blouse undone and her jeans unfastened. As far as he could tell, she hadn't even brought in her makeup bag.

Moving as quietly as possible, he took the sleeping pills into the bathroom, where there was more light. They looked brand new, just as she'd said. Which meant he should be able to tell how many she took.