THE COVE. Catherine Coulter

“What about Doc Spiver?” Thomas said. “Damn, these ropes are strong. I can’t get even a micron of play in them.”

“Keep working on them, everybody,” Quinlan said. “Now, Doc Spiver. I just don’t know. It’s possible he was a weak link. That as a physician, all the killing had turned him. Maybe the woman’s murder was the last straw. He just couldn’t stand it anymore. He cracked. They shot him in the mouth, trying to make it look like a suicide. Again, they saw it as they had no choice.”

“Jesus,” Corey Harper said, “do you guys know that most FBI agents never get close to the deep shit we’re in now? Some of them never even draw their guns. They spend their whole careers interviewing people. I’ve been told that quite a few agents, when they retire, become psychologists-they’re that good at getting information out of people.”

Quinlan laughed. “We’ll get out of this, Corey. Believe it.”

“You think you’re so bloody smart, Quinlan. How the hell are we going to get free? And a swarm of little old people are going to show up any minute. Do you think they’ll form a firing squad? Or just beat us to death with their canes?”

Corey said quietly, “Don’t, Thomas. Let’s get loose. There’s got to be a way. I don’t want to be helpless when someone comes, and you both know they’ll come.”

“What, dammit?” Thomas shouted. “What the fuck can we do? The ropes are too tight. They even tied us to the wall so we couldn’t get to each other. We’re in the dark. So what the hell are we going to do?”

“There’s got to be something,” Corey said.

“Just maybe there is,” Quinlan said.

Sally’s jaw hurt. She opened and closed her mouth, working it until the pain eased to a dull throb. She was lying in the dark, the only light coming through the open doorway from the hall.

She was alone. Her hands were still tied in front of her. She lifted her hands to her mouth and began to tug with her teeth on the knot.

She was concentrating so hard that she nearly screamed when a quiet voice said, “It’s really no use, Sally. Just relax, baby. Don’t move. Just relax.”

“No,” Sally whispered. “Oh, no.”

“Don’t you recognize where you are, Sally? I thought you’d know right away.”

“No, it’s too dark in here.”

“Look toward the window, dear. Just maybe you’ll see your dear father’s face again.”

“I’m in the bedroom just down the hall from yours.”

“Yes.”

“Why, Amabel? What’s going on?”

“Oh, Sally, why’d you have to come back? I’d give anything if you hadn’t shown up on my doorstep that day. Jesus, I had to take you in. I really didn’t want you involved, but here you are again, and there’s nothing I can do.”

“Where are James and the other two agents?”

“I don’t know. They’re probably in that little tool shed behind Doc Spiver’s cottage. That’s a sturdy prison. They’ll never get out.”

“What are you going to do to them?”

“It’s really not up to me.”

“Who is it up to?”

“The town.”

For a long moment, Sally couldn’t breathe. It was true. The whole bloody town. “How many people has the town killed, Amabel?”

“The first old couple, Harve and Marge Jensen, the ones Quinlan was supposedly here to look for, they were both accidents. Both of them keeled over with heart attacks. We found cash in their Winnebago. Next there was this biker. He started hitting on poor old Hunker, and Purn cracked him over the head with a chair to protect Hunker. It killed him. Another accident.

“Then the biker’s girlfriend realized he was dead. Sherry Vorhees had no choice but to kill her. She slammed her over the head with an industrial blender.

“It got easier after that, you know? Someone would spot a likely old couple or just someone who looked rich. Or maybe one of the women who was working in the World’s Greatest Ice Cream Shop saw a whole lot of cash when the person pulled open his wallet. Then we just did it. Yes, it got easier. It got to be nearly a game, but don’t misunderstand me, Sally. We always treated them with the greatest respect after they were dead.

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