Chapter 89

CHAPTER 89

“HELENE!” POE GASPED .

Grey was dressed in black jeans and a sweatshirt. Her hair was rumpled and her face was pale. A fat strip of silver duct tape covered her mouth.

“Surprised, Mr. Poe?” said Paul. “You probably thought she was gone forever. But I know my way around small towns. There’s hardly one I haven’t visited. It wasn’t that hard to track her down once I put my mind to it.” He lowered his voice to a hoarse whisper. “Or maybe I just cared a little bit more than you do.”

Grey flinched and twisted, but her hands were obviously tied behind her back. She stared directly at Poe. Her eyes were burning fiercely and her nostrils flared with each breath.

Poe felt his body vibrating with fear and anger. He took a quick step forward but stopped when Paul pressed the gun tighter against Helene’s temple.

“Helene, are you hurt?” asked Holmes.

Grey gave a tight shake of her head.

“Of course not,” said Paul. “Not yet. I’ve been waiting for all of you.”

Poe had his pistol aimed directly at Paul’s mouth. One clean shot through the brain stem. That’s all it would take. But he couldn’t chance it. Not with Paul’s finger on the trigger. Not with Helene so close. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Holmes shift right, looking for a better angle. Paul noticed it too.

“Look at the two of you,” he said with mock approval, “working as a team.” He cocked his head toward Holmes. With his one unfocused eye, it was hard to get a bead on exactly where he was looking. “But not for long—right, Sherlock?” Then he turned back toward Marple. “How about you, Miss Marple? No gun today? All out of pepper spray?”

“What’s this about, Oliver?” asked Holmes. “What do you want with her? She doesn’t fit your profile. She’s not a mother.”

“No,” said Paul, “but close enough.” He reached over with his free hand and stroked Grey’s belly. “Mother to be. A variation on my theme.” Grey tried to twist away. Paul yanked her back.

“Goddamnit!” Poe shouted. “Don’t touch her!” He grimaced and tightened his grip on his pistol.

Paul ignored him. “I haven’t figured out the right accident yet. Or the right venue. It has to be perfect for Helene. Someplace special.” He flicked his wrist to look at his watch. “But no worries. I have a few hours left.”

“And you think we’re going to just let that happen?” said Holmes. “Let you walk out of this room with her?”

“Actually, he does.” A woman’s voice. “He’s a bit mad that way.”