18

18

Lauren launched herself into the closet, pulling the door closed after her. She sat as still as she could, considering that she was shaking like a leaf, and prayed that Martin hadn’t heard her movements.

The bedroom door swung open and she heard him stroll in, making superior little clucks on the floor with his mayoral shoes as he whistled a merry little tune. She scowled in the darkness of coats and cloaks. He was such a pompous fool, that mayor.

The horror she’d seen in those photographs comes back to her and she clenches her teeth in rage, checking the urge to fly out of the closet and punch his porky little face in. God knows he’d deserve it.

Lauren listened as Martin walked further into the room. A pause and then the sound of bedsprings. He was sitting his fat butt down.

She pushed herself further into the closet, holding her breath. If he discovered her, she was most probably dead.

“Blake. It’s me.”

Lauren stilled. He was talking on the phone. Slowly she inched her way closer to the door, feeling her phone press against her butt in her back pocket.

A sound of intense annoyance came through the closet door and she figured he’d just found out that his little search dog came up with nothing.

“Aw, fuckin’ hell! …What the bloody hell are you talkin’ ‘bout?” growled Martin. “You had her and a shadow jumped at you…? Are you hearin’ yourself?! ...Shut up! I don’t pay you for excuses. You were there to find me the tape and the photographs, not to attack her!” Lauren gasped and quickly covered her mouth with a hand. She’d been right! He was after the photographs. The old pig. She inched closer. “That place is bein’ renovated,” spat Martin angrily. “…what if she finds them? ... No, no. No! It’s too risky. I’ll have to go with Plan number two before she finds them. We’ll get rid of her. Aaron Spencer is used to bein’ blamed for everythin’, I’m sure he’ll be fine with takin’ the fall when her body turns up.”

The air got stuck in her throat as Lauren stared wide-eyed at the closed closet door.

Whose body?

Her body?

She lay a trembling hand over her heart and focused on taking silent little breaths. Was he planning to...?

Did he want to kill her? Martin was still hissing at the person on the telephone.

“Marcus will. Boy needs some toughening up anyway. But you’ll have to find a way to get her body into his house! To make up for your lousiness. And then, find me those damn photographs. I’m not losin’ my seat over their twisted bullshit. Got it? Good!”

Lauren sat still as a statue. God, she had to get the hell out of here. She considered just running out of the closet, but quickly decided against it.

If Martin was as sick as she thought, she wouldn’t make it to the front door before she was dead. What the hell was she going to do? She heard the bedsprings creak again and assumed, he’d stood up. He took a few steps, each one louder than the last and Lauren flattened herself against the closet wall.

She was dead. She was so dead.

Her panicked eyes looked up and she saw nothing but dark coats hanging over her head. Should she attack him with a coat hanger? She’d have the element of surprise on her side and might even manage to escape. But…no, she couldn’t risk it.

Suddenly, she heard the bedroom door swing open again and Martin’s footsteps stopped.

Lauren sighed in relief.

“What did he say?” came Martha’s voice.

Shit.

Now both of them were in the room. Lauren bit her bottom lip so hard, she knew she would bruise. Damn, what was she supposed to do? Okay. Maybe they would just talk, unknowingly giving Lauren more information and then they would leave. They won’t find her hiding in the closet. They won’t kill her.

Martin snorted and Lauren felt like it was directed at her thoughts.

Like, Yeah right. We’re still gonna kill ya.

“Bastard didn’ find nothin’,” he said. “Useless.”

The sharp clicks she heard, told Lauren that Martha’s heels were taking steps toward her husband.

Dear God, please don’t let either one of them need a coat right now.

“What do you mean? You said Jonathan kept the photographs there before he died.”

Lauren froze.

Her heart literally stopped for half a second and then took off at a gallop, leaving her breathless. What? Jonathan was pops’ first name, wasn’t it? Well, of course, it was, but why would he have kept those photographs?! Why hadn’t he handed the bastards over to be hanged?

“He did,” Martin shot back. “I just don’t know where. And my idiot nephew didn’t find them either. I have a feelin’ they were in the man’s room, but Blake started with the rest of the house leaving Jonathan’s room for last, then Lauren and her damn friends got there and he had to leave ‘fore he checked the Reverend’s room else he’d’ve had to shoot their heads off. Dammit, and last night when he went back, she was there! Natalie’s house my ass!”

Lauren felt her eyes fill as she listened. It all sounded so evil and so strange. These weren’t the kind of things normal human beings said.

Martha hissed and Lauren heard the click-click of her high heels. She was pacing.

“Goddammit, Martin! I knew it! I knew we should have gotten those photographs and burned them years ago!”

“Why? We had no reason to. We only found out about the damn things ten years after he died and going into the house after so long would have raised suspicion from the town and besides, it was the best hidin’ place for the damn pictures since no one went in there!

Her skin prickled strangely as she listened. It made no sense anymore. None of it made any sense! How would Martin have hidden those photographs there if he only found out about them ten years ago? Wait, he said Johnathan... her pops... he said her pops kept them there? No way. That would mean pops at least knew who did it.

She threw her head back, drawing in a deep breath to calm herself.

“Send him back,” Martha muttered. “I’ll distract Lauren and her friends with, I dunno, a goddamn picnic or somethin’.”

There was a moment of silence and for a second, Lauren got scared that they’d suddenly detected her presence, but then Martin spoke again.

“No. It’s too risky. Last night when she was there, he attacked her, the idiot. And then somebody saved her. Somebody else was there last night and now they know that Blake’s been sneakin’ into the place. They’ll be extra careful.”

“Well, what the hell do we do then?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

Lauren swallowed hard, her heart thumping from fear and a stir of anger.

Martha chuckled. “So you’re finally going to follow my plan?”

Martin sighed wearily. “Yes, alright…I have to get rid of her. It makes perfect sense. If we kill Lauren, we can frame Aaron Spencer. Nobody goes into the house ever again because, well, she’s dead, we give the last Burns descendant a befitting burial and finally send that Spencer bastard to jail for life.”

“Then we’re the heroes?”

“Exactly, wife. Our campaign runs until Marcus gets there and then till his son gets there and his son and his son…”

Martin trailed off as his wife gave a high pitched cackle.

“Oh, Martin. I finally remember why I married you,” she murmured and Lauren was further horrified to hear the bedsprings creak.

Oh, God, no! Anything, but that! She’d die if she had to sit there and listen to them doing the nasty, as old as they were! Lauren sat, clutching her torso in horror, her mother’s journal firmly clasped in her right hand as Martin and Martha giggled at each other right after planning her goddamn murder.

“Mom? Dad?” came Marcus’ muffled voice through the door.

Lauren sagged against the closet wall in relief. God bless his soul, even if it was rotten. He’d just saved her from sitting through a bunch of disgusting noises.

“Yes?!” came Martha’s irritated response.

Lauren made a face. They were too old to do it anyway, why the hell was she annoyed?

“Uh, we need to go?!” came Marcus’ equally irritated response.

“Oh. Alright, we’re comin’. Get the Merc out,” said Martin.

Lauren froze. Would they need their coats? God, she hoped not.

A million bed creaks later, she heard footsteps. Holding her breath as they drew closer, Lauren tried to blend into the dark. She’d known it. It was too good to be true for her to get so much information and run free to use it like a relay athlete. They were going to catch her and snatch that baton away.

The footsteps drew nearer. She bowed her head in defeat. And then when she had the last breath stuck in her throat, Lauren heard the bedroom door swing open and the footsteps faded away as the door swung shut again, along with Martin and Martha’s footsteps as they walked further away from the bedroom.

She couldn’t believe it. They were gone?! Lauren let out a little laugh and poked her head out of the closet. When she saw that the room was truly empty, she leaped out of the closet and danced breathlessly all over the room.

“Yes, yes, yes! Oh, thank God!” she chanted, clutching her chest.

She quickly sobered up and hurried to the door, her breath coming in quick rasps. She pulled it open and saw an empty hallway.

Shoving the journal down the top of the back of her pants, she pulled open the door and made her way to her room.

“Lauren.”

She jumped, spinning around with her hands out. Martha stood at the top of the stairs, smiling at her.

“Martha…” said Lauren, unaware that she looked pale as a ghost with bright pink ears.

“Yes, dear, I forgot to tell you that we’re goin’ out. We’re headed to a function.”

“Oh.” Lauren stared at her.

How the hell can you talk to me so easily? You were talking about killing me less than five minutes ago!!

“Yes,” Martha said again, brushing a hand over her hair. “I assume you’ll be busy with the...renovations all day, but if you get hungry help yourself to the kitchen. Coffee, food, whatever.” She waved a hand toward the kitchen downstairs.

Lauren eyed her wearily.

“Of course, thank you,” Lauren said aloud, grateful she could control her tongue.

Martha nodded and turned to go downstairs.

“Oh, before I forget,” she spun around again, making Lauren tense. “You’re still accompanying Marcus to that party tomorrow night, aren’t you?”

Lauren bit the inside of her cheek.

“Of course,” she said stiffly.

Martha looked genuinely delighted and nodded, finally turning and descending the stairs.

Lauren leaned over, watching until Martha disappeared out the front door.

Then she darted into her room. She’d be damned if they found her there when they got back. These people were trying to kill her!

She burst into her room and tugged all her suitcases out, throwing them open and quickly began throwing her stuff in.

Halfway through packing, she pulled her phone out of her back pocket and her fingers halted above the screen.

She stared at the phone in shock. It was on an ongoing call with Grayson. Her disbelieving eyes looked down at the duration of the call. Fifteen minutes!!

A shaky breath of disbelief escaped her as she slowly brought the phone to her ear. It wasn’t possible...it would be too good if Gray had been listening.

Lauren gulped. “Grayson?”

“Lauren! Oh, my God! Fucking hell!” he yelled frantically, he sounded like he was running. Lauren jerked the phone away from her ear, it was on loudspeaker now and Grayson’s voice nearly burst her eardrums.

Lauren laughed. “Grayson!” she breathed as tears ran down her face. He’d been listening! He heard everything! Lauren couldn’t describe the joy in her heart at that moment.

“I heard it, Lauren. Where are you? Did they hurt you?”

She shook her head and continued throwing things into her suitcases.

“No, I’m alright. They just went out...I...I was in the closet, they didn’t know.”

“Good, good. Get your stuff, we’re coming to get you.”

“Okay.” Lauren nodded and struggled to close her stuffed suitcases, huffing when she finally managed it.

She put the phone on the dresser. “Don’t hang up!” she said. She didn’t want to feel alone right now.

“I’m here,” Grayson soothed. “Don’t worry.”

Lauren heard the sounds of a car. The rumble of that engine sounded familiar to her and quickly, she knew it was Aaron’s truck they were driving.

She ran into the bathroom and grabbed all of her stuff, tossing them into her toiletries bag. Now she was irritated that she’d brought so many things. Wasting no time on thoughts, Lauren carefully yanked the journal from her pants and threw it into a backpack.

She packed all the stuff up and began struggling with all the bags when a shout made her freeze.

“Lauren!”

She looked up at the open door. Aaron.

“I’m up here!” she yelled back, feeling her throat constrict around the words. God, she was so glad he was here.

The sound of heavy footsteps was heard and then he was in her doorway, filling it.

“Lauren.”

In three steps, he’d closed the distance between them and held her face in both his hands, lifting it for his inspection. His brown eyes were narrowed with fury as he studied her inch by inch.

“You alright? Did they touch you? I swear…”

“No, I’m...I’m okay,” she said quickly. “Thanks for coming.”

Aaron said nothing in return, only drew her against him for a hard, warm hug. She drew comfort from it, immediately feeling like she’d been wrapped in a blanket made of safety itself. Grayson breezed past them as they parted.

He grabbed a suitcase and turned to Lauren with panicked eyes.

“Jeez, Lauren,” he said breathlessly. “I thought they’d had you strung up on a kebab stick, already cookin’ over a damn fire. You sure can get people runnin’.”

She cracked out a smile at his teasing but knowing that he knew just as well as she did, the seriousness of the situation.

“Let’s get out of this damn house,” Aaron muttered and lifted the rest of Lauren’s stuff, leaving her with only her cellphone to carry.

She gaped at how he lifted all the weight as she followed them quickly out of the house. Oh, yeah. He was a fireman. She kept forgetting.

Aaron and Grayson put her stuff in the back of his truck and the two of them climbed into the front while Lauren got in the back seat.

She fell back against the leather with a heavy sigh of relief as Aaron drove off.

“You alright?” Grayson asked.

She opened her eyes and sat up. “Yeah. Just really shocked, that’s all. I can’t believe this…”

Aaron remained silent, focusing on the road as he made sharp turns.

“I never trusted the damn Stanfords ever since they started sucking up to the town’s love for the Reverend to get their damn victory,” Grayson spat darkly, glaring out of the window. “And with that Marcus walkin’ all ‘round like he owns the damn place! Egoistical rooster.”

Lauren snorted then laughed. “He sure does look like a rooster, doesn’t he?”

“Damn right,” said Gray.

Lauren sighed and shook her head.

“I really don’t understand what the hell he meant when he said my pops kept the photographs hidden in our house. Why would pops do that?” she asked, baffled.

Grayson frowned. “I didn’t know what he was talking about at the beginning either, you only switched your phone to loudspeaker a little halfway through.”

She shook her head. “I didn’t switch it to loudspeaker. I didn’t even know it called you, it was in my pocket all morning, it must have called by accident.”

Grayson threw a glance over his shoulder. “Well, thank the good Lord for touch screens.”

“Amen.” She murmured in agreement. “I’m so glad you two came, thank you so much.”

She reached over and put a hand on each of their shoulders for a quick squeeze, but let go off Aaron sooner than Gray.

“Thank goodness I finally moved. When I could hear clearly, I was so frozen by shock at what I was hearin’, I could hardly move a muscle. Can’t believe the Mayor of Woodfair is plannin’ a murder! And he wants to frame Aaron for it! And what damn photographs was he talkin’ about?” Grayson asked, confusion clear in his tone.

Lauren shrugged and shook her head. “I’m just as confused, but trust me…” she met Aaron’s gaze in the rearview mirror. “I am going to find out everything I need to know.”