Dead End. Lisa Phillips
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prison.
It was a play-by-play of the worst days of Nina’s life.
She kept them up as a reminder and as a memorial. She couldn’t let anyone in, not without knowing their true motives. Nor was she prepared to open herself up—except to people like Sienna who convinced her otherwise. Not when there were people in the world who would slit a woman’s throat even knowing the woman’s child was on her way home.
Nina turned a full circle to look at the sum of her life now. Her search for the truth would enable her to move on, and the teaching job would begin the next chapter of her life. She just had to find Mr. Thomas before fall semester started.
The floor creaked.
She spun again, half expecting Wyatt to have come back for some forgotten thing. It wasn’t him.
Mr. Thomas stepped into the room.
He wore a suit, much the same as the last time she had seen him, years before. His hair was gray but still stylish, and his tan was highlighted by the pale lines on the sides of his face where he’d been wearing sunglasses.
“Hello, Nina.”
Nina’s feet were frozen to the floor, her muscles solid. “It’s you,” she said. The landline phone was three feet to her right on the end table beside the couch. Could she get there? What did he want?
Mr. Thomas’s cheekbones were high, his lips pursed as he surveyed her. For an old man, he was remarkably handsome. Probably in his seventies, at least, but he could easily pass for someone younger. Nina could almost see how a woman could fall for his charm—not knowing he was a murderer. A murderer who’d come to kill her.
“Why are you here?” The question left her lips before she realized she said it. Did she want to engage him or just run?
His eyes flickered. “You tell me, Little Mouse.”
Lunch turned over in Nina’s stomach. He’d called her that, and she’d forgotten until now. Little Mouse. “Why did you kill her?” She wanted to know. She needed to know why he had murdered her mother. Though no reason on earth could justify what he’d done, she still demanded the reason. “Why?”
She didn’t see a gun, but it could be behind his back. He could be carrying all manner of weapons—just like she had hidden around her condo. Now she just had to make it to the closest one so she could force him to leave...after she got him to admit what he’d done.
It was a shame she couldn’t record his confession.
“I’ll take the first question.” The words rolled from his mouth as sweetly as a frozen treat.
She repeated it. “Why are you here?”
“Curiosity, I must admit. That is the biggest reason.” He halfway grinned. “That my Little Mouse has come back after all these years, scurrying around and trying to dig up information best left buried. For everyone’s sakes.”
“Because you killed my mother.”
“And you won’t let it rest.”
“Why should I?” Nina asked. “Why ever would I let you get away with it when I can get the evidence—”
“There is none to be found.”
“I’ll figure something out.”
“A confession?” He sneered. “Unlikely.”
“Shame I don’t have a recording device.” She shot him a look in return. “But now I know you’re threatened by me digging into the past. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here. And you certainly wouldn’t have tried to run me over earlier.”
“A simple scare tactic. I had considered it beneath me, but I can’t deny there was a certain...rush. It turned out to be quite a pleasant excursion.”
“How nice for you.” She accented the last word and lifted her right arm to show him the road rash she’d acquired to keep from hurting her left thumb any more than it already was. There was no need to let him know she’d been scared out of her wits. “All to warn me off getting my mother’s file?”
“No one will benefit from the past being resurrected, Little Mouse. Some things just need to be laid to rest and left undisturbed.”
“Not when my father was wrongly convicted. Not when he died in prison before he ever got the chance to be exonerated. I’ve spent years trying to find you, trying to bury what happened. But I can’t escape it. I can’t seem to escape you.” Nina sucked in a breath. “And now I suppose you’re here to kill me, too?”
She needed to know either way. The not knowing was making her antsy, and then she would say something to attempt to end this and wind up making it worse. Nina prayed she hadn’t just done that anyway.
“Perhaps.”
Nina rushed to the phone, snapped it up and pressed the button. He hadn’t moved or made any attempt to come after her. When she listened and heard no dial tone, he laughed. “Nice try.”
Nina threw the phone handset and the base at him. The cord snapped taut and it landed on the couch. The closest weapon was in the kitchen, as was her cell. There was pepper spray in the hutch and a baton under the couch, but one was too far and the other she had to crouch low for.
Nina looked around for what else she could throw at him. The lamp, maybe?
He drew something long and thin from his pocket. Did she even want to know what was in that needle? Nina reached for something to say that would divert his attention. “So you’ve been keeping tabs on the case all this time?”
“My work is to be appreciated. Of course I stay connected.”
“And you tried to run me over because I was asking about my mother?” They’d already been over this point, but misdirection involved confusion. She needed to make him wonder if she was the one misinterpreting their conversation, or if he was.
“Nice dive, by the way.”
“The truth has to come out.”
Mr. Thomas frowned. “Not the right choice.” His face had reddened, and the vein on his neck puckered. “I’m afraid I can’t let that happen, Little Mouse. That’s why you’re coming with me.”
“You’re the one barking up the wrong tree, Thomas.”
“That’s Mister Thomas,” he hissed.
Nina stood straighter. At the first chance, she had to run for her phone. She couldn’t let him best her, couldn’t let him take her where he’d be able to kill her and bury her. Not when no one would ever know what had happened. She would be the victim. Yet another mysterious death, with only herself to blame.
He came forward then. “Come quietly, Little Mouse. It will be better for both of us.”
She shook her head. “No way.”
He lunged. Nina ducked and kicked out with her leg. The close proximity of the couch meant she didn’t get as much momentum as she wanted, but she slammed his knee as hard as she was able.
Thomas grunted. He swung out with the needle and she slammed her forearm into his. They grasped each other’s free hands and grappled. Strength for strength matched in a battle for her life.
Nina gritted her teeth and struggled. He was older, but muscled. She had training.
Eyes locked with his, she kicked out again.
As though expecting it, he countered the move. Pain burst in her shin and Nina’s grip loosened. She pushed back against his hands hard enough to shove him two steps back, then turned and ran the couple of steps to the end table, and the lamp.
She whipped it around at the same moment she felt a sting in the back of her shoulder. Nina rotated and slammed him on the side of the head with the lamp. The needle end broke off, still stuck in her shoulder.
Thomas