She never got a chance to finish, because he had already sank the first three inches of the knife into her side, and as she opened her mouth to gasp — or perhaps to scream — he clasped his left hand over it.
He pushed her back up against the counter and shoved in the remaining seven inches of steel. Her eyes widened into giant saucers, so wide that he imagined them popping and shooting across the room, maybe even bouncing off the closed door behind him and going splat against the floor, like in a cartoon.
Instead, she slumped against the counter, and he grabbed her around the waist and guided her body slowly to the floor. With the knife still embedded in her side, there wasn’t a lot of blood. Only a thin trickle managed to drip out of the wound and along the black handle, speckling the dirty tile floor.
Beckard took his hand away from her mouth only after she had stopped moving completely. He craned his head and listened for noises but could only smell sizzling steaks wafting into the room under the slot in the door.
He turned back to Sabrina, then pulled the knife gently out of her side to avoid the splashing effect. He wiped the blade on her shirt, then put it back into its nylon sheath before standing up and checking himself in the mirror.
Satisfied he didn’t have any extra (fresh) blood on him, Beckard flicked off the lights, then opened the bathroom door.
He felt like whistling but managed to stop himself just in time. He was giddy, which was something he didn’t have to temper because it didn’t really show outwardly. Or, at least, he didn’t think it did.
One down and two to go before he could start having fun again…
Chapter 9
She’s dead. The girl’s dead.
The thought raced through her head the instant Beckard reappeared out of the hallway by himself. When she saw his face — and that glib expression plastered all over it — she had no doubts whatsoever.
The girl was dead. Sabrina. Who had the kind of intense gaze and intelligent eyes that reminded her so much of her—
Stop it! Concentrate on the moment!
“Donnie!” Allie shouted.
Donnie was moving one of the steaks over to a plate when he glanced up. “What?”
“She’s dead! Sabrina’s dead!”
“What the fuck you talking about?”
Beckard paused briefly and looked at her, and she could tell she had caught him off guard.
“She’s dead!” Allie shouted. “Inside the bathroom, Donnie! He killed Sabrina when they were in the bathroom!”
Donnie looked across the cabin at Beckard. “What’s she talking about? Where’s Sabrina?”
“She’s finishing up,” Beckard said as he resumed his walk across the cabin living room.
She was amazed at how casual he was, as if he were on a Sunday stroll instead of having just left a body behind in the bathroom. She had expected a bigger reaction from him — something, anything to give away that he was flustered by her accusation.
“She’ll be out soon,” Beckard said.
“Don’t trust him,” Allie said. “He’s lying, Donnie. Sabrina’s in there, and she’s dead. He killed her.”
Donnie glanced at her again, then back at Beckard, like a child caught between two bickering parents, unable to decide who to trust. The big metal fork was still clutched in his hand, and she tried to will him to stick it into Beckard’s gut.
“Why is she saying that?” Donnie asked.
“She’s crazy; don’t listen to her,” Beckard said. He was halfway across the living room now, and passing her. “She knows she’s going to jail after this. She’s just desperate.”
“Don’t listen to him!” Allie shouted. “Sabrina’s in there! He killed her with that knife!”
Donnie’s eyes shifted to the knife on Beckard’s hip. She wondered if there was still blood on the blade. Maybe if she could get Donnie to look at it—
Beckard had detoured at the last second and crouched in front of her. “Give it a rest. No one’s going to believe a crazy woman.”
Allie ignored him and focused on Donnie instead. “Don’t let him get the shotgun, Donnie! Make him take you to the bathroom! You’ll see—”
Beckard had picked up the roll of duct tape from the floor when she wasn’t looking, and he slapped a strip over her mouth now, cutting off the rest of her warning. She tried to get up but lost her balance and fell back down, landing sideways on the floor.
Beckard stood back up. “Don’t listen to her, Donnie. She’s crazy, remember? She’ll say anything to get out of this. I wouldn’t be surprised if we find out she really did do something to her boyfriend.”
Allie managed to turn herself until she could see Donnie in the kitchen. He had picked up the shotgun and was holding it at his side as he walked around the counter.
Thank God he’s smarter than he looks.
“But what’s she saying, about Sabrina?” Donnie said. “Where is she?”
“I told you, she’s in the bathroom, cleaning up,” Beckard said. “It’s my fault. I was bleeding, and I guess I made a mess.”
The man’s voice was amazingly relaxed, even…soothing. Was this how he had lured all his victims, she wondered. This unnatural calmness, even when confronted with a frazzled boyfriend holding a shotgun? Was this what allowed him to get away with it all these years? This sociopathic personality, this uncanny ability to spin lies at a moment’s notice?
In all the research she had done on Beckard (even though she never knew his name until now), one thing was always certain: He was smart. Or maybe the right word was cunning. And now she could add creative to that list. The man simply knew how to adapt and overcome. It was an amazingly impressive trait, something to be admired if he was anything other than a sick murderer piece of shit.
“You can go and check for yourself,” Beckard was saying. “I swear, Donnie, I didn’t do anything. You can’t listen to her. Remember what she did? She almost shot Sabrina with that shotgun earlier. And she might have, if you hadn’t tackled her.”
Donnie’s eyes snapped back to Allie before returning to Beckard, only to return to her again. She wanted to yell at him to stop looking at her face and focus on Beckard instead, because the state trooper was still walking toward him. Very slowly, each deliberate step getting him closer and closer to Donnie, to the shotgun.
Allie tried jerking her head in Beckard’s direction to lead his gaze where she wanted it. Tried to scream out the warning with her eyes and frantic head movements, because everything she wanted to say was lost as incoherent mumbling against the duct tape.
Donnie continued to hold the Remington at his side as if it were a third arm he didn’t know how to use. Beckard must have seen that, too, because she noticed he had begun moving faster toward the younger man.
“She’s inside the bathroom?” Donnie was saying to Beckard. His voice had lost some of its earlier intensity, which made Allie even more desperate. “She’s fine?”
“Yeah, of course,” Beckard said. “She said she had to clean up because this is Wade’s uncle’s cabin and she didn’t want to leave a mess behind.”
That seemed to resonate with Donnie and Allie saw, to her horror, his big body relaxing. “Yeah, she’s a stickler for that type of stuff. That’s why I love her.” Then he put the shotgun back on the counter and Allie’s heart sank. “Man, she really got me going there,” he said, staring daggers across the room at Allie.
Beckard looked back at her, too. “I guess that’s one of her talents. She suckered me in earlier, too. I had no idea what she was capable of until she attacked.”
“Girls, man,” Donnie said. “Can’t live with them…”