Heads You Lose - Lisa Lutz [96]
At the very least, Paul stopped mentioning it.
Lacey waited until the bank confirmed two wire transfers in the amount of $500,000 before she agreed to pick up the pen.
“Sign here and here and here,” Franklin Fisher said.
The siblings passed the gold fountain pen back and forth until they’d worked their way through the inch-thick pile of papers. When they were done, a series of handshakes followed, and some sighs of relief.
“See you around,” Big Marv said with a Cheshire Cat grin.
“We’ll see about that,” Lacey replied, as she and her brother departed.
On the drive home, an awkward silence set in. So much had gone on in the last few weeks, so many ugly thoughts and images that would be forever imprinted in their minds. A deal like this was once in a lifetime, but they both felt empty. Lacey knew her time in Mercer was coming to an end, and yet, if pressed, she couldn’t tell you where she was going.
“I don’t want to go home,” Paul said.
“Where do you want to go?” Lacey asked.
“Take me to Brandy’s.”
“Really?”
“Please, Lace.”
Lacey spun a U-turn on the desolate road and headed up to Tulac. Paul didn’t say a word as he got out of the car.
When Lacey returned home, she collapsed on the couch and fell fast asleep.
The next morning, she turned on her computer and checked her bank balance, as if everything that had happened the previous day had just been a dream. She breathed a sigh of relief as she saw her comical bank balance: $500,114.54.
She realized she could go anywhere. It was a soothing thought and yet she stayed put.
Lacey killed most of the morning watching bad television. While making a sandwich, she sorted through the collection of bills, catalogs, and coupons from distant towns until she noticed a blank white envelope in the mix. She cracked the seal and found a note inside, cut and pasted from newspaper and magazine print.
GEt oUT nOW or NEver
Lacey’s heart raced and within seconds her palms grew sweaty. She slipped on her shoes, grabbed her keys, and made a beeline for the door. She drove straight to the Mercer sheriff’s station.
This time when Doug saw her, he remained seated.
“Lacey.”
“Doug.”
“What can I do for you?”
“I need to see the sheriff.”
“I’ll see if he’s in.”
“He’s in,” Lacey said, striding down the hall and straight into Ed’s office.
The sheriff spun around when he heard the door creak. He put his hand over his heart and said, “You startled me.”
“We need to talk,” Lacey said, taking a seat across from his desk.
“You bring the letter?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“It’s missing; at least I think it’s missing, or maybe I misplaced it.”
Ed leaned back in his chair and put his boots up on his desk. He closed his eyes for a long enough moment that Lacey thought he might have nodded off.
“Ed?”
“Yes?”
“You know why Egan was at Verducci’s yesterday, right?”
“I do.”
“He was meeting Doc Holland.”
“He was meeting Doc Holland because you arranged for the meeting.”
“I regret that now. But until we flush out Holland, these murders won’t stop.”
“What’s his motive, Lacey?”
“I don’t know.”
“And why are you in the middle of every single one of these crimes? Your ex-fiancé dies, and lo and behold a life insurance policy turns up in your name. Terry Jakes is murdered and you and your brother inherit some land that turns out to be worth a pretty penny. Paul discovers the body of Harry Lakes. And you discover the corpse of Doc Egan. Remind me, Lacey, why aren’t you my primary suspect?”
“After twenty-eight years, I cut off the head of my former fiancé and dump the rest of the body on my driveway? You don’t really believe that now, do you, Ed?”
Ed sighed and brushed back the flap of thinning hair that covered his bald spot. “No, I know you’re not a murderer, Lacey. But somehow all of this is connected to you.”
“We need to find Doc Holland.”
“We don’t need to do anything. I’ll handle the police work here. You just stay out of trouble. As for Doc Holland, he’s a dead end for now.”
“What do you mean?” Lacey replied.
“He’s a ghost, Lacey.