Speak No Evil_ A Novel - Allison Brennan [133]
The fun died with her dad.
Emily entered the house through the secondary entrance, the one Victor ordered the hired help to use. None of the outside doors used a key. That would be common. Emily typed in the security code on the keypad next to the door and the lock sprung. The atmosphere was cool, in both temperature and aesthetics. Her mother had the downstairs professionally redecorated every two years. Last year, she wanted the feeling of the ocean, everything in blues and greens. The sound system piped in canned ocean waves whenever her mother was home.
No music, no mother.
She waited for the intercom’s grating buzz, every cell in her body on alert. Victor was home, his Jaguar was in the garage. Of course he was home, it was Wednesday. Her mother was gone, the housekeeping staff had the night off, and Emily had to be home. Every day by six p.m. by order of the court.
Damn curfew. Damn the police. Damn the whole fucking system.
And damn her for being so stupid. Vandalizing the courthouse. What had she been thinking? Of course, she hadn’t been. Just like when she’d run away. All emotions, no plan. Emily couldn’t see anything beyond her anger. And she was paying for it now. Maybe she deserved it.
The intercom didn’t beep, her stepdad didn’t summon her to his office. She slipped off her sandals to tread soundlessly across the marble floors. Slowly, she walked down the long, wide hall to the center foyer, waiting for the telltale click of the intercom and Judge Montegomery’s deep and horrible voice.
Emily, please come to my office.
Nothing. Silence.
Maybe he was on the phone. Maybe he hadn’t been watching the security system and was unaware she’d come home. Maybe he’d hung himself. She could only hope.
She started up the grand staircase, her heart racing. As Emily ascended, she began to run. Free. She was free. She’d lock herself in her room, because he didn’t dare come after her in there. It was always his office, his desk. His domain.
She closed and locked her door behind her, grinning. She leaped onto her bed and jumped up and down like a little kid. Then she went into her bathroom and started the water in her bathtub. Hot, with bubbles.
She wasn’t supposed to drink. In addition to being underage, it was a term of her plea bargain last year since she’d been intoxicated when she’d vandalized the courthouse. But she had a flask of dark rum hidden in her dresser, which she refilled periodically from Victor’s bar.
She had to have something to wash the foul taste of him out of her mouth and mind.
Now she drank in celebration. Locked in her room. Alone. At peace.
Downstairs, Victor Montgomery sat in his desk chair, dead, his bloody body horribly mutilated.
She was petite, and because she recognized him, she wasn’t scared. She even smiled and waved as she approached her car—he was parked next to her, trunk up, pretending to look for something.
“See you later,” she said.
He grabbed her and pushed her into the trunk, hit her once, twice to shock her, then quickly gagged her. The thrill of taking her in a public parking lot, without drugs, just by being smart and fast, excited him. Once home, he stripped her naked and tied her to the bed. “Wake up.” He tapped her. She moaned but didn’t open her eyes.
He slapped her and her eyes opened. Like a bug pinned to a board, she squirmed, realized she was trapped, and fought harder.
“It’s time, Becca.”
She tried to scream.
Speak No Evil is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
A Ballantine Books Mass Market Original
Copyright © 2007 by Allison Brennan
Excerpt from See No Evil copyright © 2007 by Allison Brennan
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States