False Pretenses - Kathy Herman [54]
“Please, you’ve got the wrong person,” Zoe said, her voice quivering. “Years ago I-I read about the Benoits dying in a house fire and their daughter, Zoe, surviving. I grew up with an abusive father, and I’d been planning to change my name and start a new life. I liked the name Zoe Benoit and I wanted to pass for Cajun, so I changed my name to that and kept the story about my parents dying in the fire. That’s the truth. I swear.”
“Don’t insult my intelligence. You knew your parents owed me money. You wanted to keep it for yourself.” He pushed the tip of the knife into her cheek, and she felt the sting as it pricked her skin. “You skipped out and stuck me with a debt that almost got me killed. Now you’re going to pay that debt.” He touched her bleeding cheek, then wiped his finger on her tank top. “Or you’re going to die.”
Zoe felt light-headed and wondered if she was going to faint. What had she gotten herself into?
“Believe me, you don’t want to mess with me. I’ve got a real mean streak.”
“If I cashed in everything we have, I couldn’t come up with a hundred thousand dollars. I’m not even sure I can borrow that much. We just took out a business improvement loan so we could repaint the building and update our kitchen.”
“Figure out something. You have until the banks close on Monday. Just be sure it’s ready to wire.”
“What account number?”
“You’ll hear from me again before then.”
“There’s no way I can get that much money without my husband knowing about it, especially if we have to sign something.”
“So tell him. But I’ll be watching and listening. If either of you goes to the cops—or tells someone else who does, I’ll know. And it’ll be the last thing you ever do. Oh … did I mention I’m really good at disguises? And accents. Angus Shapiro isn’t my real name either. So going to the cops won’t get me caught. It’ll just get you killed.”
“You’re actually threatening to kill me if I can’t get the money?”
“It’s not a threat. It’s a promise.”
He shoved her to the ground, and she noticed a handgun tucked into his waistband. In the next second he disappeared into the woods.
Zoe got up off the soggy ground, her shoes and clothes damp and soiled, blood trickling down her cheek. She was vaguely aware of mosquito bites that itched and burned. How was she going to explain her appearance to Pierce? How was she going to tell him that she had lied to him from the beginning? And because of her deception, everything they valued was in jeopardy—maybe even their lives?
She brushed her hands together and trudged back to Landry Trail and started walking back to the starting point. What if she ran into someone she knew? What would she say? That she fell on the trail? Cut her face on a rock? She probably looked as though she’d been attacked.
Terror seized her. How was she going to get a hundred thousand dollars? What if that didn’t satisfy him? Or what if he planned to kill her anyway? She had seen his face. Even if he was a master of disguises, she had heard his voice. Would he really let her walk away?
Losing her life seemed less frightening than losing Pierce. Would he even speak to her again when he found out she’d deceived him? And that the only reason she was telling him anything was because she was forced?
Zoe started to cry. God, what have I done? I’ve ruined my life. I’ve wrecked my marriage. All I ever wanted was a normal life. I never meant for any of this to happen. I’m so tired of living a lie. But what kind of life will I have if I tell the truth?
Maybe the best thing she could do was disappear. But what if Shapiro was watching her? What if he had a way to track where she was? If she tried to run, would he come after her and kill her—especially since he was convinced she had run once before?
Did she dare go to the authorities despite his threat to kill her if she did? Was she ready to face Pierce and confess the whole ugly truth and accept the consequences, no matter how painful? The Catholic Church wouldn’t sanction a divorce, but didn’t Pierce have grounds for an annulment? Was there