She had to figure out how to get out of here. She couldn’t take on both Reverend Grace and her aunt at once. Somehow, she’d have to eliminate them one at a time. Maybe she was grasping at straws, but she had nothing better now.
Slowly, Mystery removed the cross from around her neck. Knowing she’d received it from the reverend who’d blamed her mother for his own lust, just like an utter creep, made Mystery’s skin crawl. Once she’d unclasped it, she handed the piece of jewelry to him. “All yours.”
He took it in his palm, looking way too placid for someone about to commit murder. “Thank you for your cooperation.” He tucked the cross into his pocket. “Now the SD card. Have you read anything on it?”
“Not a word. We haven’t had time since retrieving it from the bank.” She wished now they’d had time to grab Heath’s computer from the trunk of the car so she’d know what secrets her mother held sacred, but she’d gladly trade the knowledge for her life.
“Excellent.” He nodded. “The good news is, not only will destroying this file help me, but Mullins, too. If this is the same text I read on Julia’s computer after her sad death, many of that man’s secrets will never see the light of day. So this debacle will at least end happily for a few.”
Just not for her, if he got his way.
Mystery tried to focus moment by moment as she reached into her purse for the SD card. She knew exactly what pocket she’d secured it in but pretended otherwise to buy herself time to look for anything that could be used as a weapon. She found a hairbrush, lipstick, wallet, breath mints . . . but nothing sharp or blunt.
“Hurry up,” her aunt demanded. “Give the card to me.”
“Or I’m afraid we’ll be forced to shoot,” Reverend Grace added.
Since he’d pushed the mother of one of his children off a cliff to her death, she believed him.
With shaking hands, she started to do as he bid, then realized that once she gave him the disc, she was disposable. He would kill her and not think twice. He might also kill her if she played dumb, but her odds were better if she stalled.
“I can’t find it,” she lied.
“How can that be?” her aunt cried. “You said you had it. Did you already lose it, you terrible spawn of sin?”
Mystery looked at Gail again. Had the woman felt this way about her during every childhood visit? Every craft project they’d done together? Every cookie they’d baked? The thought saddened her, almost defeated her. But Mystery knew she couldn’t dwell on that. The woman under Gail’s façade was petty, small-minded, and fanatical. This “pious” woman believed she was a soldier of God and would rejoice in her own niece’s death.
“Maybe it fell out of my purse,” Mystery suggested with a shrug, secretly scooping it between her fingers while pretending to scour the insides of the bag.
“Give that to me,” her aunt snapped, gripping the leather straps and giving them a good tug.
As her aunt seized the bag, Mystery managed to catch the disc in her palm. Instantly, she shoved her hand in her pocket like it was a nervous habit. That wasn’t the best hiding place for the card, but stashing it bought her more time. Maybe by then Heath would find her. She’d love to think that Axel would come looking for her, too, but . . . Don’t go there. One second at a time. Deal with heartache tomorrow.
Still, she wished she could go back in time to the moment she’d seen Axel with the waitress—the actress—and handle everything differently. She had to stop knee-jerking and seeing everything through her mom’s filter. She had to start using her own head.
If she lived through this ordeal, Mystery swore that’s exactly what she’d do.
Gail dumped the purse upside down, and the contents splattered all over the floor. The woman knelt, setting the gun at her feet, then sifted through everything, prying into her belongings and either throwing or shoving them away when the invasive search proved fruitless.
Mystery couldn’t reach the firearm without reaching across her aunt’s body, and either the crazy bitch or the psycho would kill her for it. Still, she had to try.
As she tried to inch toward it, Gail picked the bag up by its bottom and shook vigorously. With a frustrated grunt when nothing new fell out, she tossed the purse across the room and retrieved the gun.
“Before we left the car, you said the disc was in here.” Her aunt sent her an accusing stare, pointing the ominous barrel of the weapon at her.
“I thought it was,” Mystery lied, shrugging. “Maybe it fell out in the car or on the walk over here. Or maybe . . .” She pretended horror. “At Osborne’s office. I don’t know.”
Her aunt huffed, then looked at Reverend Grace. “I told you she’s a foolish jezebel, like her mother.”
He raised a brow at Mystery, then knelt to retrieve the letters she’d retrieved from her mom’s safe-deposit box. He opened one of the love notes and scanned. “Jealousy is such a destructive emotion. Your mother resented every female who flirted with her husband. He is a man easily led by lust—a weak man she should never have fallen in love with—but Julia allowed that jealousy to drive a wedge between them that never healed.” He turned to Aunt Gail. “It’s the same jealousy that allowed hate to fester in the older sister for the younger.”
Gail blinked at him in shock. “Jealous? I had no reason to feel a moment’s envy for Julia.”
When Mystery realized her aunt’s hand wavered at the accusation, she piled more on. “You totally did. You resented that she horned in on your ‘adventure’ to Hollywood. You were pissed off that she got a bit part in a movie and some TV roles when you never even received a callback. You especially hated that my father”—she sneered at Reverend Grace—“tossed you out of his bed because he preferred my mother. And he married her. He may not be perfect, but you wanted Marshall Mullins. And he loved her.”
With wide, furious eyes, Gail curled her finger around the trigger of the gun and steadied her stance. “Give me the word, Reverend.”
“Not yet. I think your niece knows exactly where that disc is, and I think I know exactly how to make her give it to me.” The minister sauntered closer to Gail.
What he lacked in style, he made up for with a calm, knowledgeable charisma that probably spoke to his lost and confused followers who desperately sought a leader in their daily lives—like her aunt. How gullible a mark she must have been for him.
“Did you sleep with Gail, too?” Mystery blurted.
“Of course not!” her aunt gasped out.
Reverend Grace shook his head. “No. You will never believe me when I say that Julia was the only woman with whom I strayed from my marriage. I truly do strive to build a Christian empire God would be proud of and live by His teachings. Occasionally . . . unfortunate situations present themselves, and I’m still paying for my most terrible sin: you.” He sent her a tight little smile. “Julia really was the prettier sister.”
Mystery could barely take in all the craziness dripping from that speech, but the verbal slap across her aunt’s face came through loud and clear.
He reached for Gail’s hand, the one currently gripping the gun, and wrapped his fingers around hers. As he did, a shaft of sunlight leaked through the ceiling, and Mystery saw then that he wore flesh-colored latex gloves. He gripped the weapon firmly over her hand and raised the weapon. As he raised it to Gail’s temple, he entwined his finger with hers, smiling into her gaping expression. “You really have been a good soldier.”
Then he pulled the trigger.
Mystery gasped so loudly, the sound reverberated through the entire building. She shook as she watched her aunt collapse to the ground, her brains sprayed across the tile floor. Blood splattered everywhere. Gail’s eyes were still open.
“Do I have your attention now?” he asked, retrieving the gun from her aunt’s limp hand.