The Third Mrs. Durst Read online

  Hours of hell—my muscles burned from being stuck in the same position, and I needed to piss so much that it hurt. I had no sense of time in the darkness and still felt lightheaded. Hunger, inhalation of chemicals—it could be either one. The car slowed, and the way I shifted in the trunk made me think we’d finally gotten off the highway. We continued to drive, a bumpier road than before, slower too.

  Sharp smells occasionally sliced through my haze: acrid skunk; stink of fertilizer; something rotten, maybe road kill. We were definitely in the country. I put my face closer to the trunk hood, desperate to breathe in something else, anything at all, and I caught a whiff of stagnant water. That reminded me of the cabin I’d been taken to before. I remembered the murky pond with the algae growing unchecked atop it; the perfect place to sink a body. Or two.

  Sickness roiled in my stomach, but I couldn’t throw up or I’d choke on my own vomit. The car made several turns and slowed even more, eventually leaving the pavement entirely for a gravel road. I could hear the rocks pinging against the undercarriage and crunching beneath the tires. Soon we stopped entirely and the engine cut off. I heard the car door open and slam shut, then finally saw starlight.

  After so long in the dark, it hurt my eyes, but I couldn’t shield them. The goon hauled me out bodily and I got a quick glimpse of Michael’s cabin. Average Man slung me over his shoulder like a sack of cement, so I only saw a blur of rocks, trees, and car until he dropped me on the porch. My legs were shaky and stiff from being crammed in the trunk and I almost fell. He didn’t steady me, so I hit my face on the doorframe.

  The door opened as if we’d knocked, revealing a man in dark slacks and a white shirt. He was terribly handsome, but it was a plastic prettiness that made me wonder what his real face used to look like. Nobody had cheekbones that symmetrical or a jaw that could slice up a ham.

  “You’re late,” he said to Average Man.

  “I drive the speed limit. There’s no gain in attracting attention. We have plenty of time before Mr. Durst joins us.”

  My captor dragged me inside, pushing me toward the smaller of the two bedrooms. Before, there’d barely been space for a single bed and a chest of drawers. Now the room was ominously devoid of furnishings, with the carpet torn out and clear plastic sheeting on the walls and floor.

  “Welcome to the murder room,” Average Man said.

  He shoved me, hard enough that I hit the wall and went down on my side. I didn’t try to get up for fear he’d do worse. He had given me no chance to ask questions, no sense of what his orders were other than the certainty that we were being held for Michael Durst. I didn’t think a henchman would have the authority to kill us, certainly not before my husband got there, but he might bloody us before the main event.

  “Ah, you can’t respond, but you must be wondering …” With a mocking flourish, he moved to the closet and pulled something—no, someone—out. Ariella tumbled over, her hair spilling around her like a mermaid who was dying and would soon turn to foam. My heart froze, and—

  She moved, shoving up on her elbows as best she could. Her wrists were bound in front of her and her ankles were taped as well, heavy-duty material strong enough to patch an air conditioner hose. A dark strip of the stuff covered her mouth as well. Her face was dirty and pale, her eyes sunken.

  The goon said, “Stay quiet. Enjoy the reunion … while you can.” Then he slammed out of the room and I heard the door lock. The radio kicked on in the other room, the same melancholy station I had listened to with Vin. I could tell that the minions were talking, but I couldn’t make out the words. That was probably the reason for the background music.

  I couldn’t wait any longer, and with a groan of humiliation I crawled into the closet to pee. If they treated me like an animal, I’d fucking act like one. My sister didn’t say anything, but from the smell of it, she’d gone in there too while she was locked up.

  When I came out, Ariella half fell toward me and I managed to loop my arms around her. She didn’t look good. No telling how long it had been since she’d eaten or had water. With a little maneuvering I managed to peel the tape off her mouth at least, and she did the same for me. Screaming wouldn’t do us any good out here, though. I knew that much from the time I’d spent with Vin. It would only get our captors in here, pissed and ready to punish.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

  Ariella’s voice was so rough and raspy, thick with thirst and disuse. “What’s happenin’, Marlena? Who are these assholes?”

  It nearly killed me to admit, “They work for my husband.”

  “Shit. That answers my next question too.”

  “How did you end up here?”

  “I got a call from Michael. He said you were awful sick and that I should get on the next plane out. He booked the tickets and everything, arranged my pickup in Newark. But instead of bringing me to you—”

  “The driver brought you here.”

  “He drugged me first. Otherwise I would have been screaming long before ending up duct-taped in a murder room.” She slammed a fist against the plastic-covered floor. “Why didn’t you warn me? I would’ve been careful if I’d known …” She trailed off, probably unable to find words to describe our current situation.

  “I just wanted to get you away as fast as possible, but you’re right. I fucked up.” There was no point in apologizing; some wrongs couldn’t be righted with a few words.

  Only action could fix this.

  “You sure did,” she muttered.

  “I don’t know how long we have before Michael gets here.”

  She let out a moan. “I’m so hungry. But the thirst is worse.”

  “Wish I could do more than apologize.”

  Ariella fluttered a sad little smile. “Just like the old days, huh, Marlie? When we didn’t have anything to eat or drink at home and we made do by catching rainwater in a barrel or walking to the old artesian well.”

  I remembered. No electricity, no indoor plumbing. I’d followed Dee away from that life, walked where she had until I ended up here. Had she known why she was dying at the end?

  Dark thoughts would only erode my ability to think on my feet. I’d survived so much. I had to keep going and get my sister out of this. She didn’t factor into the plans I’d laid. Now I was working off-script, frantic and fearful.

  “You were in the closet, right? Is there anything in there? Anything at all?”

  “I don’t think so. We can check.”

  The plastic crackled, so I inched across it as quietly as I could, hoping our movement wouldn’t draw attention from Average Man or Plastic Guy. The only window had bars on it, hammered in place on the outside, so our only exit would be past Michael’s two minions.

  Finally, I got close enough to peer inside. This time I looked around but saw only dust, old wallpaper, and peeling paint. I wasn’t surprised, but disappointment still flooded me.

  “I’ll figure something out,” I promised.

  From Ariella’s expression, she didn’t plan to hold her breath. With a little whimper, she leaned against me and closed her eyes. She slept for a bit, small, pitiful sounds escaping her even as she dozed.

  Hours passed. I might have slept too. Darkness dropped gradually, creeping over the trees. From the rumble of the generator, the lights were on in the rest of the house, but we sat in the gloom, waiting.

  Waiting for Michael.

  Waiting to die.

  For me, at least, it wouldn’t be quick.

  Someone’s phone rang on the other side of the door, a shrill summons. I crept closer to try and make out the conversation. Thankfully the walls were built of thin paneling and not well insulated.

  Since they’d turned off the radio at some point, Average Man’s voice carried clearly. “How soon will you be here?” A pause. “They’re docile for now but I don’t know long that will last.” Another silence,
longer this time. “Yes, I still have what I used to sedate the girl. Understood. I’ll take care of it.”

  Whatever he offered us to eat or drink, we had to refuse it. If my guess was correct, he planned to drug us, and when we woke up, Michael would be here. I’d wake up naked and strapped to a folding table in the murder room.

  Like hell.

  I still had on the stupid shiny watch Michael gave me. According to that, it took fifteen minutes for them to fix our drugged food. The door opened and the light flipped on, a bare bulb embedded in the ceiling. The sudden brightness hurt my eyes, but it also let me notice little details, like all the dead flies on the plastic by the window and how much Average Man smelled of camphor and menthol.

  “You two have been so quiet that I’ve decided to reward you,” he said. “Something to eat, ladies?” He set the tray on the floor and whistled like we were dogs. “Come and get it, be good girls.”

  “It’s okay that we took our gags off?” I asked warily.

  “You need them off to eat anyway.” His false geniality scared me even more than if he’d been threatening us or slicing me with a knife, because I knew how bad it would get once Michael Durst arrived.

  Ariella caught my gaze and tipped her head toward the food. I nodded. We couldn’t eat it but we shouldn’t antagonize our guard, either. She crawled toward him, eyes down, the picture of submission, but she was so weak or dizzy that she almost pitched face-first into the food. He lunged to keep her from messing up our dinner. He hadn’t cared when I’d smacked my face, but this food? Another story.

  “Clumsy moron,” he muttered, shoving her back. Then he slammed the door behind him as she pulled the metal tray toward the center of the room.

  “Tell me you got something,” I said.

  Ariella had always been fast with her hands, even as a little kid. Stumbling into him, taking the punishment? That was all to get him close enough for her to work.

  She produced a collapsible baton. “It was the first thing I could grab. I don’t know how long it will be before he notices.”

  Carefully I extended it to its full length and peered at the weapon, trying to imagine what we could do with it. It wasn’t sharp enough to cut through the tape … well, we had to figure out what to do with our dinner first.

  “Don’t drink the water,” I snapped as she picked up the glass.

  With the light on, I could see it was cloudy. They’d also given us a cream soup to be drunk from tin mugs, so that could be drugged too. The sandwiches were more of a question mark because I didn’t see how pills or powder could completely permeate bread, meat, lettuce, tomato, and cheese.

  “Is any of it safe?” Ariella whispered.

  “Let’s have the meat and lettuce. If we don’t feel anything from it, we can eat the cheese and vegetables too.”

  Since the window was barred from the outside, they hadn’t bothered to secure it on the inside. I wriggled the sash up enough to pop the screen out, then dumped the contents of our mugs and plastic glasses. The roar of the generator sounded even louder close up, and suddenly I knew exactly what to do with the baton. I beckoned to Ariella in tight, frantic motions.

  Angling my shoulders, I slid my arms through, baton in hand. As I’d hoped, it was just long enough to reach the generator. I bashed the connective wires with all my strength, striking again and again until they popped out of the machine.

  The lights went out.

  42

  I listened to the assholes cursing, stumbling in the dark.

  That gave me time to close the window, collapse the baton, and hide the baton in the back of my pants. It wouldn’t hold up to scrutiny, but I hoped Average Man was too pissed to realize his beating stick had gone missing.

  I crawled over to Ariella. “My nails might be sharp enough to unpeel the edge of your bindings. Let’s give it a shot.”

  But before I could put my plan into action, the door slammed open. “You fucking bitches broke the generator.” This was Plastic Guy, practically spitting in his rage. I prayed they hadn’t noticed the soup splattered down the side of the house.

  He stormed in and kicked me, then aimed for Ariella. My stitches popped as I tumbled over, pain spiking in my chest, but he only booted Ariella once before I got my body between them. I covered her as best I could, taking one kick to the thigh, another in the ribs. When that didn’t satisfy him, he swung an arm and slammed a fist into the side of my head. It snapped back and I bit my tongue, blood in my throat.

  I blacked out briefly as he hit me more, roused only when the other man finally dragged Plastic Guy out of the room. “For fuck’s sake, you’ll get us both killed if she dies before Durst gets here! Think for a second.”

  “Thanks to them, we’re squatting in the dark. I don’t like this, Yar—”

  “Shut up,” Average Man hissed. “No real names. Do I have to remind you what’s at stake? We’ll find some candles, light a lamp. It will be fine.”

  He dragged his comrade out, the latter cussing ferociously in a language I didn’t speak. They slammed the door, leaving me in a heap on the floor, one huge, throbbing bruise from head to toe. For a few seconds I could hardly think, let alone breathe, and I was still bleeding sluggishly from the chest.

  “Marlie.” Ariella crept toward me and lifted me so I could rest against her shoulder. “You shouldn’t have done that. It would’ve been better to split the whooping.”

  Blearily I shook my head. “Old habits die hard. Used to do the same thing when—”

  “I remember,” she cut in. “Mama’s men never laid a hand on me if you could help it.”

  “Dee did the same for me when she was around. I believe in paying it forward.” I was too dizzy to think. Food and I hadn’t been close friends since Michael had me poisoned, and I was so thirsty that my mouth and throat hurt.

  I tried my plan with our bindings, but I couldn’t find the right angle and all I did was scrape away my fingernails until they broke off into the quick and bled. Finally I gave up with a shaky sigh. “I’m sorry. I can’t do it. We need something sharp.”

  “You’re bleeding,” she whispered.

  Waving away her concern, I considered what to try next. They’d left us with the tin mugs, plastic cups, and metal tray, along with the hidden baton. “Let’s see if we can break the plastic cup. If we get a sharp piece, we might be able to saw through the layers of tape. Not quickly, but …” It wasn’t like we had a better idea.

  Ariella took her cup, put it beneath her ass, and bounced on it. Not what I would’ve done, but when I heard the quiet crack, I gave her two thumbs-up. Banging it on the wall would’ve drawn the guards for sure.

  I reached down and picked up a broken piece, a nice jagged fracture. “This might work, if they leave us alone long enough.”

  The cutting didn’t require as much precision as peeling, and we took turns, spelling each other when our arms started to hurt. Finally the bonds popped, ragged threads fraying from the tape as we pulled free. I raised my arms and rolled my shoulders as Ariella moaned in relief.

  “That feels so much better. What now?”

  “We’ll need to replace these soon. Just wrap them so it looks like we’re still tied up.”

  She nodded. “So they don’t realize we got free.”

  “Once they open the door, run if you can. Don’t look back. Run until you find the nearest house and beg to use their phone.”

  I heard the reluctance in her soft, backcountry voice. “Promise me this ain’t some big sacrifice? ’Cause you feel bad about leaving us, so you’re determined to die a hero.”

  With a half smile, I shook my head. “That’s not my style. Trust me and go.”

  After we stretched, we replaced the tape, but it wasn’t solid anymore. When we applied pressure, it would pop off. The surprise factor wasn’t much of an advantage against three armed men, but it was all we h
ad.

  Countless tense hours passed; we cuddled up together and dozed. I roused to the sound of a purring engine and tires rolling over gravel. Michael’s here.

  Our lives hung on the next few minutes.

  Because Plastic Guy was probably still pissed, Average Man came for us. The smell of kerosene intensified, drifting in from the front room. Everything was flickering shadows, so that his too-careful coif looked immense, the ghost of Elvis come to drag us to his Nether-Graceland. I didn’t move, and Ariella whispered a plea for mercy.

  He grabbed me by the scruff of my neck and hauled me to the front room, then went back for Ariella. I stayed where he threw me, feigning a near stupor. They think we’re drugged and trussed for Michael’s pleasure. He’ll start here and finish up in the other room. I wondered if he’d ever murdered anyone with such brutal intimacy before.

  I made him escalate. I could take a sick sort of pride in that.

  Average Man pushed Ariella to the floor, where we lay before Michael Durst. His clothes were dirty and sweat-stained, hair greasy and disheveled, and his eyes glittered with a febrile light that had to have come from something he’d snorted. He paced before us, movements abrupt and jittery, and I could smell the rage even in the sourness of his sweat.

  This man was homicide incarnate.

  “Go,” he snapped. “Get out.” He flung a white envelope at Plastic Guy, who managed to catch it. “We’re done. You don’t get to stay for the final act.”

  As the henchman left, Michael aimed a kick at my chest. I tipped sideways, trying to make it look more accidental than a coordinated dodge. He couldn’t discover how alert I was before I heard the men’s car drive away. Once they went, my odds against him would improve significantly.

  “You had so much to say at the precinct,” he spat. “But you’re so fucking quiet now. I did everything for you!”

  I tuned out his ranting and took the first kick in the back. Bruises are good. Bruises are evidence of violence. Thanks to the brutes he’d hired, I had plenty.

  When I couldn’t hear the car engine anymore, I rolled over in time to avoid a vicious stomp. Quickly, I signaled Ariella, who broke her bonds and scrambled toward the door. He snatched at her hair, dragging her back, and she screamed, high and agonized. Her hair came out in a bloody hank but she didn’t hesitate, thank God. I popped the tape and dove, wrapping both arms around his ankles.