The Perfect Liar (Last Stand #5)(80)
Author: Brenda Novak

There had to be an easier way….

Turning, Kalyna stared out the window–and that was when the obvious occurred to her. Ava lived in a house surrounded by water. It wouldn’t be too surprising if she were to drown. Rivers could be dangerous; people died in them all the time. Something as simple as slipping on a rock and banging her head–a freak accident–could have the same result and would warrant only a short mention in the paper.

Kalyna smiled at her thoughts. Better yet, it would be easy to accomplish, especially since she could set it up right now. She’d put the sunglasses back–leave everything the way she’d found it, including the partly open window. She’d smooth the screen so the cut she’d made would only be noticeable if someone was actually looking for it. Then she’d be able to use the same point of entry when she came back tonight.

Excitement brought a rush of adrenaline. As her plan took shape, she walked through the house a second time. She needed to make sure she could navigate the layout without bumping into furniture in the dark, needed to know where to find Ava when she was sleeping.

"She’l be right here," Kalyna murmured as she entered the master bedroom. "And she won’t suspect a thing."

Although Ava’s room was clean, her bed wasn’t made and there was a sweatshirt tossed over a chair. Kalyna could see part of the logo on that sweatshirt–and the familiarity of it made her clench her jaw. Why would Ava own an air force sweatshirt? Especially one so large?

She didn’t, of course. The sweatshirt belonged to Luke.

"That bitch!" Kalyna screamed, and threw it on the floor. She wanted to tear the place apart, tear Ava apart, too. She wouldn’t share Luke; she wanted every tiny piece of him al to herself.

But the only way to get what she wanted was to use her head.

Taking a deep breath, she struggled to calm down. She couldn’t get worked up, couldn’t succumb to the cutting or scratching or banging temptation that grabbed her when she was upset. She wasn’t the one who’d be hurt tonight. She’d save her rage for Ava–but she wasn’t leaving that sweatshirt behind.

With steely determination, she tied the sweatshirt around her waist and began to search through Ava’s drawers. If she had a weapon, Kalyna needed to know about it, just in case Ava got loose or something else went wrong.

But she found nothing more worrisome than a nail file. Ava wasn’t very prepared for what was about to happen.

Kalyna stood at the edge of the room as she imagined exactly how it would go. She’d surprise Ava while she was sleeping and tie her hands and feet. Then she’d drag her to the river–

No, she couldn’t drag her. The scrapes would show on the body once it was recovered. She’d have to put Ava on a blanket and use that to get her to the water. There, she’d throw her over the side of the boat and dive in after her, at which point she’d hold Ava’s head underwater until she was dead. After Ava’s lungs were full of river water, she’d knock her on the head with a rock to make it look as if she’d hit her head and passed out. Then she’d cut the ropes and massage any marks they might’ve left on Ava’s skin.

Kalyna was slightly worried that she wouldn’t be able to get rid of the marks completely. She’d never kil ed in this way before, had no experience to rely on. And it was always the marks on the body that helped the police in those forensics shows. But this would be different. The ligatures wouldn’t be on long enough to cause much damage and, provided the body stayed in the water for any length of time, Ava would be too bloated and discolored to make them obvious, anyway.

When it was over, she’d take the rock and the rope with her. Then tomorrow, or the day after, or maybe the day after that, someone would find Ava floating in the river. Or, even better, the fish would eat her or she’d drift out to sea. Whatever happened at that point didn’t matter to Kalyna, because she’d be back at work with nothing and no one to tie her to such a tragic accident.

And Luke would be hers.

Ava’s mind was on the case in Arizona. It was easier to think about Norma’s murder, to wonder about the progress Detective Morgan might be making, than to think about Luke. And she certainly didn’t want to concentrate on what her father was telling her, or she’d run from the restaurant screaming in frustration. Ever since they’d sat down, he’d been talking about Carly, extolling her virtues and trying to convince Ava–

probably himself, too–that she wasn’t as bad as she seemed. He actually said she’d calm down and grow up "eventually."

When? Ava wanted to ask. She didn’t see Carly’s behavior improving in the least. Why would it? There was no incentive for change. If she threw a fit because Chuck wanted to go fishing, he didn’t go fishing. If she threw a fit because Chuck was planning to see his daughter, he canceled the engagement. He did anything and everything she demanded.

So why was he lying to himself? Why did he put up with her? That was what Ava couldn’t figure out. Could having a trophy wife be that important to his ego? It had to be. What else did she have to hold him?

The reason he stayed with Carly was a combination of pride, ego and fear, she decided. Her father hated the thought of being alone, especially now that he was getting older. But he was stil a handsome man. He wouldn’t be alone for long. He never had been.

"Ava? Are you listening?" he asked.

She blinked and refocused. Trying to downplay his sudden appearance on her doorstep, he’d said Carly had made him his favorite meal as a peace offering the last time they’d had a disagreement. As if that made up for her petty jealousies and selfishness. And then he’d said something else, but she hadn’t caught it.

"Sorry, I–I have a lot on my mind. What was that?" she asked.

"I said, you don’t think much of her, do you?"

The resignation in his tone astonished Ava. She wasn’t sure how they’d gone from the usual sales pitch– she means well, she’s just high-spirited; her temper gets hold of her, but she has a good heart–to a comment so blunt and honest.

Ava opened her mouth to lie and say she did. She knew the price of admission into her father’s life. She had to pretend to like whatever woman he had at his side because that woman always came before she did. But she couldn’t do it today. She was too tired of fighting that battle, a battle she could never win–at least not with Carly.

Tensing, she met his eyes. "No."

He set down his fork. "She’s not as bad as you might think, Ava."

"That’s what you keep telling me. How many times have you said it just today?" she asked.

"I’m hoping that someday you’l believe it. I’m trying to build a bridge between you."

By making it all her responsibility?

"Carly would like to be closer to you," he said. "She tells me that all the time."