30. Kennedy
Kennedy
Malachi was back again, and this time, he hadn’t locked the cell door behind him. I didn’t know if it was some sort of test, so I didn’t move. Just stared up at him, heart racing.
“I went to check out that brook in the woods,” he finally said. “Your map was very accurate, and you were right. It’s a good spot. Nice and secluded, and very unlikely that anyone would ever think of it.”
“That’s what I figured when I suggested it,” I said softly. “Have you heard anything from your colleagues yet?”
He smiled thinly. “Yes. Every cop in the CBPD assumes that the ‘secret fishing spot’ is somewhere along the coast,” he said.
“They’re bringing in reinforcements from Boston PD to swarm every inch of it on the night of August 22 nd , all the way from Marblehead to Plum Island.
And on my suggestion, they’re also interviewing every angler they can find, professional or hobbyist, to figure out the most likely spots to keep an extra close eye on. ”
“Great,” I murmured.
He was silent for a moment. “Are you absolutely sure no one else knows about that place?” he finally asked, gaze sharp and searching.
I nodded. “Mom and Tessa never asked where we went fishing together. I think they just assumed we were going to the beach or the rocks like everyone else in Corwin Bay does,” I said.
“And Dad always told me that the only other person who knew about this spot was his father, who showed it to him when he was a kid. But he died twenty years ago.”
Malachi’s eyes didn’t leave mine. “I really hope you’re not trying to set me up, Kennedy.”
“Of course not,” I said. “I’m not stupid enough to think I can outsmart you . Not after all the years you’ve put into this plan, and all the people you’ve killed to make it happen.”
That seemed to please him. He gave me another thin smile. “Good.”
“Won’t the other cops expect you to be front and center of the operation that night?” I asked, brows rising. “Seeing as you’re the lead detective on the Carver case.”
“Of course,” he said, smile turning slightly devious. “But, unfortunately, I’ll be coming down with an awful case of fictional food poisoning that evening. No choice but to go home and let someone else take the lead.”
“I see.”
“Anyway…” He turned toward the open cell door and gestured. “I promised you a new room in return for your help. So let’s get out of here.”
I rose unsteadily to my feet and followed him out. Part of me was surprised that he’d actually kept his word. I’d half-expected a bullet between the eyes instead.
At the top of the stairs, he led me outside and over to his black sedan. Once we were there, he pulled two coils of dark red rope from his jacket pocket.
“It’s pretty unlikely that we’ll pass anyone on the road out here, but just in case, I’m going to have to bind your wrists and ankles,” he said. “You understand, don’t you?”
I nodded and held out my arms without protest. He tied my wrists together in front of me, firmly but not brutally. Then he guided me into the back seat and knelt to bind my ankles, leaving me stretched out and immobilized.
With a satisfied grunt, he patted my thigh and closed the door.
Because I was lying down, I couldn’t see much when the car started moving; just a blur of trees through the window. After a while, that gave way to a wash of flat gray sky, then more forest again.
I tried to keep count in my head. By the time we stopped, I estimated we’d been driving for around twenty minutes.
When the engine finally went quiet, I heard the faint roar of the ocean along with the screech of a gull. Malachi’s door opened, then mine. I tensed automatically, unsure what came next.
He leaned down, blocking the sky. “We’re here.”
He untied my ankles first, then my wrists, his fingers brushing my skin with a familiarity that made me flinch. He noticed.
“I’m not going to hurt you, Kennedy,” he said. His voice was soft, almost disappointed, like I’d insulted him by thinking otherwise. “I told you that.”
I pushed myself upright and swung my legs out of the car, blinking at the view.
“This is my home,” he said, gesturing ahead. “And now it’s yours too.”
The house in front of us looked like it had been plucked from a dream. Three stories of soft white wood and pale stone with delicate wraparound balconies that framed the upper levels. It was nestled between a dense stretch of pine forest and a windswept cliffside.
“It’s beautiful,” I murmured.
Malachi smiled faintly. “I thought you’d like it.”
I looked around again. “Where exactly are we?”
“About halfway between Boston and Corwin Bay. So thirty minutes either way, depending on which one you want to go to.”
“That’s convenient.”
“Yeah. Convenient and isolated,” he said. “A lot of the land out here is part of a conservation area, so the nearest neighbor is a ten-minute drive away. That’s why I didn’t gag you. Because even if you screamed, no one would hear you.”
“Right,” I muttered, eyes still on the gorgeous house. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but how did you afford such an amazing coastal property on a detective’s salary?”
Malachi smiled again. “Detectives in this state are actually paid quite well, so I’m not exactly struggling,” he said. “But, admittedly, I had some help from Elijah. I told you he was independently wealthy, didn’t I?”
I nodded slowly. “So he left his money to you and your sisters when he… passed.”
“A lot of it, yes. But he also left some of his fortune to charities and scholarship funds. He was a good man,” he said quietly. His smile had faded now, and his expression had darkened.
“I wish I could’ve met him,” I said.
I wasn’t quite sure why I said it, but it didn’t seem to bother Malachi at all. In fact, it actually seemed to soften his face a little.
“Come on,” he said, gesturing ahead. “Let’s get you inside before the rain hits.”
Sure enough, clouds were gathering low and heavy in the slate-gray sky. I followed him up a stone path flanked by thick hedges and wildflowers, everything smelling of pine and sea spray.
When we reached the front door, Malachi unlocked it and stepped aside to let me enter first.
The inside of the house was just as beautiful as the exterior.
Warm wood floors, high ceilings, and a wall of glass on the right that looked out over the cliffs to the ocean beyond.
To the left was a sleek kitchen outfitted with marble countertops and cream-colored cabinetry.
Directly ahead, there was a sprawling living space with a fireplace, leather furniture, and shelves filled with books.
I hovered awkwardly near the entrance, unsure where to go or what to do. Then I spotted a door near the kitchen. It was halfway open, and beyond it, I could make out some stairs leading downward.
I began walking toward it, but Malachi stopped me, laying a heavy hand on my shoulder. “Where are you going?”
“The basement,” I replied, pointing to the door. “That’s the way, right?”
“I’m not putting you in the basement,” he said, eyes flickering with something unreadable. “Your room’s upstairs. Third floor. It has the best view in the house.”
I didn’t move, unsure if he was messing with me or not.
He tilted his head. “Kennedy, I promised you a nice place, and I keep my promises. This isn’t a trap.”
I finally stepped forward and trailed him up the wide staircase. When we reached the third floor, he opened a door at the end of the hall and stepped back, letting me enter first.
The space beyond was huge and stunning, like something out of a magazine.
There was a king-sized bed draped in layered blankets, a reading nook by the window, a living area with a sofa and TV, and a whole wall dedicated to books.
There was even a vase of fresh flowers on the nightstand.
The only hint that I was going to be a prisoner in here was the row of metal bars on the window.
“You can try, but there’s no way out of this room once I’ve locked the door,” Malachi said, studying my face.
“I don’t doubt that,” I murmured.
He gestured toward another door on the right. “That’s the bathroom. You can shower now while I get you some food,” he said. “There’s fresh towels in there, and clothes for you in the closet.”
I nodded listlessly and stepped into the bathroom. It was bright and airy, with white tiles, a marble countertop, a freestanding tub beneath a slanted skylight, and a walk-in shower with rainfall settings.
I turned on the shower, stripped off the clothes I’d been wearing for five straight days, and stepped under the stream of hot water.
The moment it hit me, I nearly sobbed.
I hadn’t realized just how disgusting I felt until the grime and sweat began to wash away. I stayed under the water until the mirror fogged, scrubbing my skin raw with floral-scented soap. Then I washed my hair three times, just to be sure.
When I finally turned off the water, I stood still for a moment, enjoying the peace and quiet as steam curled around me. Then I took a deep breath and stepped out of the enclosure, knowing I couldn’t hide from my new reality forever.
There was a bathrobe hanging on the back of the door, so I wrapped it around myself and towel-dried my hair as best I could before stepping back into the bedroom. Malachi was waiting for me, sitting on the end of the bed.
His eyes swept over me, and I saw something flash in them. Hunger, maybe, or satisfaction. I couldn’t tell.
“I wasn’t sure what you’d want to eat,” he said, gesturing toward a series of trays laid out on the coffee table that stood in front of the sofa. “So I brought all your favorites.”
I looked down at the spread. There was a creamy mushroom risotto, grilled cheese with tomato soup, fries, a little bowl of red roasted peppers and olives, and an iced coffee with cold foam. There was even a plate of strawberries next to an open jar of Nutella with a spoon stuck in it.