Читать книгу DARK WORK - Barbara Rush - Страница 8

Lydia’s Taurus idled in the early evening at Walgreens. This was Erin’s route when visiting her mother, and it wasn’t the first time she’d waited just out of sight of the exterior front door camera for Erin’s dark green Toyota Corolla to round the busy corner. Erin was due any moment.

Lydia had already been in Liz’s house several times in the last few weeks, but without success. She’d also tracked the movements of Liz’s daughter, just in case she needed a hostage.

She needed Erin—for the moment at least. Absentmindedly scratching the right side of her face, she traced the subtle scar. ‘Not yet.’ She whispered to no one. Killing was an option, but not before she’d found what she had to find.

The glint of green caught her eye and a lead blanket of calm compressed Lydia’s chest. She took a final deep breath, preparing for the encounter. Turning the car on and backing it to the perimeter of the entrance of Walgreen’s, her body language reset, and she became fully ‘Lydia.’

She didn’t need to follow close. She knew the route. It could be over tonight if she located the “item,” but she hoped it wouldn’t. She was enjoying the work again, and her new youth.

One mile down, a left into the development. Erin went straight, she followed, waited a beat before she broke off left again. It was a new community. High-end modern country homes with river-rock foundations, crowned with wooden plank second stories. In every driveway a car that based over thirty-grand. At the center of the development, a pool and a clubhouse. Money.

They think money isolates. I’m here. Nothing isolates.

Lydia pulled into the clubhouse parking lot directly across from the house. A Toyota Corolla ticked and pinged in the driveway. She reached across the bench seat for her satchel when she noticed another car slow and pull in beside the Corolla.

Kristy. The base of her neck crackled with a sting. Not optimal. She needed Erin alone.

Kristy emerged from the drivers side in her work clothes and small bag slung over her shoulder. Locking the door, she walked up the short ‘j’-shaped front sidewalk and rang the bell.

Lydia waited. Seconds later, an exhausted Erin opened the door, both disappearing inside.

What to do. Her half-lidded eyes stared through the front wall. She saw the entire home, picturing them in the kitchen pouring wine, getting ready to sort through belongings.

She reached into her bag and fingered the grip of her M9. She slid her hands up to the heavy silencer. Cold steel on her soft palm instantly centered her. If things were different, she would put an end to Erin’s grieving. The delicious thought brought the first wave of sweat. How lovely that would be. There’s nothing quite like that moment of disbelief in the eyes of the almost dead. She cracked her window for cool air. She needed to be powdery for her entrance.

Just then, Kristy came back out the front door, Erin lingering on the porch.

“Thank you, but really I am not hungry …“

“I don’t care if you’re hungry, Erin. You have to eat something! Don’t do anything until I get back from Zio’s.”

Perfect.

Lydia waited for the red brake lights to make the right out onto the main drag. With one final check in the mirror, she pushed the creaky driver’s-side door open. Glancing around, she looked for any signs of notice. No one.

Satisfied, she walked imperfectly across the fifteen feet of manicured sod to the street. Each step turned up ‘Lydia’ a notch. Fully in her role by the front porch, she rang the bell. The same interval passed and Erin glanced through the sidelight. The door opened.

“Can I help you?”

“Erin? Please forgive the intrusion—especially at a time like this. My name is Lydia Knox and I’m with your mom’s church, Church on the Wall?” She reached out her hand toward Erin. Erin took it.

“Oh-well I don’t know if they know but my mom actually just … ”

“I know. I know. I am so very sorry. That is why I am here. I am a grief counselor with Good Grief services, and we work with the Church. It’s a tremendously sensitive time, this close to her passing, and—no pressure—I am here to sit with you, bring you something to eat, help you with any arrangements; just give you support—anything you need.”

“Um … oh—I don’t know if I need any of those things honestly. I am just now beginning to clear my head about it all.” Erin let out an exhausted sigh glancing backward into the house. “Forgive me—Lydia? Please, come in it’s crispy out here.”

“Thank you Erin.” Idiot. You’re mine now.