A Kiss Before I Die (9 page)

A bullet caught Tyler in his left side, just under his rib cage, and the force of it pushed him out the door, in the direction he’d come from.

Wilcox came from the shadows of the kitchen, a grotesque figure, the stub of a broken arrow protruding from his left arm, his face burnt, blood trickling from his mouth, a gun in his right hand.

“
Tyler
?
What the hell are you doing out here
?”

“Hi, Tommy,” Samantha said.

She positioned her weapon the way she’d been taught:  right hand holding, the left steadying. It felt heavy.

“You crazy whore,” said Wilcox, and he laughed and shook his head. “You’re
so
screwed.”

“Toss the gun.”

“
No
,” he said, and brought it level to her chest.

“
Shoot him
,” Tyler said.

“That’s no way to talk about your new daddy,” Wilcox said.

“
Shoot the bastard
!”

“She’s
crazy
, Tyler. She killed your dad, drugged a cop, assaulted another cop and god knows what else – don’t let her fool you. She’s
insane
!”

“Put it down,” Samantha said.

He stepped toward her.

“You know your face is all white and drained and cold looking. Shit, you’re going to bleed out. All I’ve got to do is stand here.”

“
Sammy
…” Tyler pleaded.

“I will kill you,” she said.

Wilcox tilted his head like a hawk spotting something edible.

“That mine?”

“Yeah.”

“
Shit
, that’s empty…”

“Liar,” she said.

The boy cocked his leg and kicked Wilcox.

The lawyer fired another round and the bullet found the boy’s left leg.

Samantha fired two rounds into the chest of the lawyer Wilcox.

He was dead before he hit the ground.

She dug into the lawyer’s pants pocket, found the keys to the Silverado, and helped Tyler to his feet.

“Walk, Tyler, come on, walk…”

“Hunting buddy,” he said. “Clean kill.”

“Looks like I’m driving…”

“Not far. Told mom where we are...”

This time she pushed and lifted him into the truck.

In the distance, growing louder, police and fire sirens. The clouds glowed with a white searchlight.

Helicopter.

Rescue.

Samantha went to the other side, opened the door, and reached under the seat.

“Here,” she said, and handed him his father’s wallet and phone.

This boy, this young man, began to sob.

She got into the truck, started it, and rolled into the road, away from the fires.

And that was all.

Thomas Wilcox and Jeff Debozy had been fine public servants and
she
had murdered them in cold blood to keep her rumored fortune of one-hundred million. Sam calculated that with compounding rumor interest she would make the
Forbes
list of “The World’s Richest People” within a few years.

The man in the red Ford was a tragic victim. According to the local paper he was “a simple country boy from the Ozarks, a man down on his luck”, working odd jobs, helping men like the lawyer Wilcox. Whit’s portrait of innocence crumbled when her lawyers discovered good old, God-fearing Whit was wanted in Kentucky for rape, assault, and assorted felonies.

Sebastian Ruggles was on permanent disability due to his injury – he claimed she’d assaulted him, pushed him into the refrigerator which, due to poor design by Kenmore, toppled onto him. Another lawsuit added to the ongoing lawsuits.

Her new law group, a New York City firm,
Houle & Kelly
, the best she could find, was as tenacious as any group as she’d ever seen. As their forensic accountants sifted through the maze of investments made by her godfather, they found Wilcox had a large number of friends and relatives with disproportionately bad luck: cancer, car accidents, foreclosure, bad debts, and, fittingly, one that had been struck by lightning. The bulk of those charitable acts occurred in the months immediately before and after her godfather had died:  the lawyer Wilcox taking advantage of his position and her godfather’s sorrow and depression. At the same time, federal and state representatives appeared, and some avenues – the activities and past of her parents – were effectively blocked and classified.

She and Tyler, in hospital beds, were interviewed and charged with assault, murder and arson. Other charges came later. During the first two weeks, as police and private investigations were conducted, the facts shifted and some of the lesser charges were dropped.

The fact that she had admitted to moving the body of Frederick Burleson was being used as proof she had murdered the man. It was also presented as she had stated:  that she had relocated the body to save it, the actions of a person who had an unusual background and insight. The gun that had killed Burleson was proved to have been purchased by the lawyer Wilcox.

The recording of her and Debozy – the recorder was where she had left it – was surprising and baffling. The conversation, her assertions about Wilcox and Henderson, seemed vital to both sides. There was the sound of the door being destroyed, calls for an EMT, and assorted exchanges, the oddest of which was when Wilcox said he would look around and see if she, Samantha, had been sloppy and left the murder weapon laying around.

“
House is full of guns
,” he’d said. “
It’s probably around here somewhere
.”

Why would a lawyer look for a murder weapon that might implicate his client?

Then, from Debozy, as he talked to Wilcox, with the effects of liquor still apparent:

“
She knows more you thinks
.”

One of her new lawyers explained Wilcox hired Burleson to follow her parents
and
her godparents.

“It’s very plain, in black and white, some of which you’ve already read – he wanted total control of the estate. The rumors of your godfather’s past never faded and Wilcox was in a position to sic this man Burleson on the lot of you. Nice guy, huh? Enough is never enough for some people…”

The muddy water of her life and of that night in March was becoming toxic.

“And I’m not sure what your parents were involved in, but, Samantha, this is only time my sources have been scared to talk, either on or off the record.”

She was wealthy and beautiful, getting away with murder just as her parents had, as her godfather had and as so many other wealthy and beautiful people had. 

Long and expensive trials were her profession.

**********

Esteban didn’t acknowledge her when she entered into
Ramon’s
; he prepared her meal without joy. Patti the server was polite, nothing more. 

Tyler arrived fifteen minutes late.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” he said as he approached her.

She stood. They hugged.

“You look good!”

“I feel
great
,” Tyler said. “How’s the flipper?”

They sat in a booth in the corner, as far from the front windows as possible.

“Out of the woods” Sam said. “They’re leaving in a touch of shrapnel for a keepsake, an excuse for the TSA people to grope me. I’m done with physical therapy. They said I’m as good as I’m going to get.”

“What about the limp?” 

“You know, it comes and goes. Some days worse than others. How are you feeling?” She touched his hand. “I ordered for you. I knew you’d be late.”

“Thanks, I am
starving
.”

Patti brought salsa, chips, and water. 

“School starts next week?”

“In two weeks. They wanted me to wear a tracking device and my lawyer talked them out of it. I mean, where am I going to go, right?”

“I know the feeling.”

The food arrived. They ate silently, exchanging few words.

“Your mom?”

“She still doesn’t want to talk about you or any of it unless she’s in therapy. But we’re working it out. She’s starting to accept my – our – version of what happened. She’s glad I’m alive but wants the courts to figure out if you killed dad.”

“She almost lost everything, didn’t she?”

Tyler said nothing.

He sat his fork down, dabbed his napkin against his mouth, folded it, and placed it on the now empty plate.

“What about you?”

She was only halfway through her meal.

“Lawyers. Hate mail that I can’t read. And there’s talk I might go back to jail if the prosecutors have their way. There are also good people in this fine town who think I’m O.J.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No, they’re seriously considering it.”

“Pitch forks and torches,” Tyler said.

She picked up her glass.

“Here’s to better days. Cheers.”

Tyler raised his glass.

“
Questi sono i giorni del miracolo e della meraviglia
!”

“What? Was that Italian?”

“Miracles and wonders. ‘ These are the days of miracles and wonders’. I’m learning the language.”

“Huh. How about that?”

“Hey, listen,” he said.

“It’s okay,” she said. “Go.”

“No, not that.”

He looked to his hands then to her eyes.

“Listen, that night I said something and I want to apologize for it. I said I never wanted to see or hear from you again, and that was wrong, and I take it back. I didn’t mean it. I was just...angry. I’m sorry.”

She nodded.

“I appreciate it, Tyler. Thank you.”

“We’re kind of stuck with each other, anyway, aren’t we?”

“I guess so.”

“That didn’t come out right, but – I mean, there’s this world only you and I live in, and no matter what it’ll always be there. Just us, you know?”

She smiled.

“I’m not staying here my entire life,” she said. “Once this is settled, I’m leaving. Another year. Maybe two. I was thinking of northern California or Michigan.”

“Michigan?”

“My parents had a property in Michigan, at a place called Harsens Island. It’s beautiful.”

His hands had been clasped. He opened them now, palms up, a small gesture.

“Maybe we can do that together…”

Samantha’s smile widened.

Her eyes squinted. Just a fraction.

“I’d like that.”

“Murder’s Sister”

(The Laragia Confession)

With chilling detail, Stephen Laragia accounts for the horrific murder of two men. The murders remain unsolved, and over time, he prospers, marrying the love of his life. But when a new detective comes to the village Stephen immediately falls under his suspicion. Then, in a twist of fate, his wife’s parents are murdered. Their deaths force him out of "retirement" to pursue the killer – and into an intricate plot of arson and perverse revenge. Ultimately, he’s targeted by a German sharpshooter, the detective, the village’s wealthiest man, and his best friend, the captain of the police department, each with a motive, each with an agenda Stephen needs to decipher. Die now. Die later. We all die.

“Harsens Island”

Harsens Island, Michigan, is the new home of Samantha Moretti, a woman with deadly skills, the daughter of murdered government assassins. Cradled by the Saint Clair River, the island has been called ‘Paradise’. But this paradise is shattered when Sam’s murdered lawyer is discovered in the river’s cold, treacherous waters.  Determined to find her killer, Sam is thrust into a lethal intrigue, matching wits with a silver-tongued Indian Chief, the island’s richest man, a high-powered lawyer with global allegiances, and an enigmatic Vietnamese girl whose family perished in tragic and mysterious circumstances. The lies and deceptions multiply, the pursuit becomes deadly, and Sam ultimately discovers a secret worth killing for.