Dumb Blonde Read online

  Someone had flipped off the stereo, leaving the house strangely quiet, and maybe just as disturbing as it had been when the music was on. This was not the day she’d planned when she’d called in sick.

  Missy stood in the doorway to her bedroom just looking at the place. It was a disaster. Of course, that was the room’s normal state of being. At least Joe hadn’t suggested that any criminal who broke in would most likely feel the urge to straighten the place rather than toss it. There were two bikinis thrown across the bed, from this morning where she’d decided what kind of tan lines she wanted to start the season with. She’d gotten in fairly late last night, so those clothes were slung over the arm chair that sat in the corner. Jammies hung on the doorknob into the bathroom.

  But even as she recognized the mess as her own, it still didn’t feel right. Missy started to catalog - she thought she’d left the purple bikini further up on the bed. But she couldn’t be certain. And something didn’t look right about the nightstand either. Still she couldn’t put her finger on just what. There just wasn’t anything she could prove. Clearly she didn’t fold and press her clothing every night and ‘I think it isn’t where I left it’ didn’t hold any weight with the fine upstanding lawmen of Beaufort, Alabama.

  She told herself that Joe and Beech and Ted had all been here and they all thought there was nothing to worry about except maybe a few shenanigans from Freddie. And she did watch a lot of horror movies. That still didn’t give Joe the right to be an ass.

  Missy decided a good warm shower would clean off the sheen she always got when sunbathing, and might just relax her, too. But again, when she grabbed the doorknob to the bathroom, she noticed something else out of whack.

  She always hung her jammies by the collar, but now the little loop at the tag was hooked over the knob. Like someone had knocked them down and hung them back up. Hell, she hadn’t even known those jammies had a hanging loop. And there was no way Freddie had done that.

  A chill skittered down her spine.

  Her brain raced. Someone had been in here.

  Then she forced herself to relax. Obviously someone had been here. Joe and Beech and Ted had gone through. One of them had likely knocked her jammies down. Missy hadn’t seen it herself, but that was the only thing that made sense.

  Still, she didn’t like it, and it left her with a vague sense of unease. Hell, the whole day was leaving her with a sense of more than just unease. She wasn’t quite up to stripping down and climbing in the shower yet. The shower boded far worse than the bikini did for her survival rate. At least the music wasn’t still playing.

  So she did the one thing she could think of to settle her nerves. Missy went to the bedside stand and opened the drawer. Her Glock nine millimeter lay right where it was supposed to. Her parents had left it behind for her when they had packed up and retired to Florida.

  She felt better with the gun in her hand and she adjusted her grip until she had it ready to aim and fire. Where it made her feel safe. But the problem was it didn’t feel quite right.

  Tipping the butt of the gun up for a look, she saw that the clip was missing. Missy blinked. She always kept it loaded. Maybe Joe had pulled the clip, thinking she was a danger to someone. Well, he’d been right on one count - he should duck and run if he had the balls to think he was coming around her again. But of all the stupid things he could do, taking the clip was way up there. What good was a gun without-

  “I took the clip.”

  Missy’s breath froze in her lungs. She knew that voice. And there was no reason for it to be here. No good one.

  She was standing with her back to a killer, she knew it. She had a gun with no bullets and she was still wearing her white bikini. God, she was going to die a cliché.

  She wasn’t going down without a fight, though. Turning, she looked the man in the eyes. “Ted.”

  He smiled, just a little. In his left hand he held a long hunting knife. A coil of rope was pushed through his belt loop, at the ready for whatever he was going to do with it. In his right hand he held his police issue Glock, just like hers.

  Only his undoubtedly held bullets.

  His smile turned regretful. “I didn’t want to do this, Missy. Sharon and I really like you.”

  How she found sarcasm at a moment like this was beyond her comprehension. But it wasn’t like she had bullets or anything better. “I’m really sorry about that. I hate that killing me is such a bummer for you, Ted. It’s sure going to be a bitch for me though. But here’s an idea: just don’t do it. We’ll call it even.”

  “You always had a smart ass mouth, Missy. I don’t know why a good guy like Joe dated you.”

  Missy hadn’t thought it would be possible, but she managed to hate him even more than she had just the moment before. She raised her eyebrows.

  Ted shrugged, looking resigned. “I’m sorry. It was supposed to be quick. But your stupid cat hit the stereo button and you called it in. I got to do it, Missy.”

  God, she was screwed. The only strategy she could come up with was that she should use her own name, make herself more human to her captor. She’d seen that in a movie somewhere. But Ted already kept saying her name, talking about her. So that didn’t work. And she was standing there, stuck, and out of ideas.

  Ted sighed. “You told everybody the other night that you thought Beaufort would be a good place for the killer to live. Since he could get to Mobile easily. And you said he was likely a cop, since they couldn’t get any evidence on him.”

  She nodded. “Yeah, that was really dumb of me. I take that all back.”

  “It’s too late, Missy.” He gestured at her with his gun. His loaded gun.

  But she didn’t move. “You can’t shoot me, Ted.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because when I show up dead from a nine millimeter wound from a Glock, they’ll know that someone in law enforcement in Beaufort did it. There’s only ten of you and I’m sure about nine of you have alibis.” She tried to breathe normally, but for the life of her she couldn’t remember what that felt like.

  “I’ll dump your body.”

  “Ted, people come running at the sound of a bullet around here, if only to get in on the hunting. You can’t shoot me, Ted. Your problem is that I know it.” There. She laid it at his feet. She wasn’t about to march herself out into the woods, doing half his job for him, but she had to wonder what he planned.

  “Dammit, Missy!” was the only warning she got.

  He chucked his gun aside, lunging at her and tossing her to the bed. Her bare legs scrambled to kick out at him and she flailed her arms wildly hoping to hit him with the broad side of the gun.

  It didn’t work.

  Grabbing her wrists, he pinned her down, her hands held high and almost motionless, while he sat on her. Still she struggled against him. He looked down to locate the rope at his belt, and Missy took the opportunity.

  She screamed and yanked at one hand, getting it free. Her fingers curled around the base of her grandmother’s old stained glass lamp. She hated to lose the thing, but at least it would hurt like a bitch.

  She bashed it at him, hitting hard enough to make him yelp and give an involuntary jump back. With a well placed knee, Missy managed to get upright and on her feet.

  At which point she did what any self respecting blonde would do when confronted by a serial killer.

  She ran screaming.

  Barefooted and barely clothed, empty gun still tight in her grip, she wailed like a banshee as she tore through the house.

  Heavy footsteps pounded behind her, and she went right out onto the deck, still yelling her head off.

  Abruptly, she quit screaming. That was how a killer followed you. All he had to do was listen for screams, then breaking twigs, as you pounded through the woods. That was not an appropriate death for her.

  Trying to be as quiet as possible, Missy ducked under the deck. The flimsy door to the storage space was meant to keep raccoons and such out, rather than killers. Still, sh
e pushed it shut behind her hoping Ted wouldn’t hear. Then she went over to the counter, her hands shaking but still death-gripped around her gun as she rummaged through the drawers.

  “Missy, I know you’re under there.” Ted’s voice was as creepy sounding as his slowing footsteps. He was going to open the door any moment.

  She turned to watch as the light changed. He swung the door wide, frowning as she raised her gun. “Missy-”

  She pulled the trigger.

  One.

  Two.

  Three.

  Ted fell, gasping, to the floor.

  Royally pissed now, Missy walked up and nudged him with her toe. A red stain was spreading rapidly on the dirt behind him.

  She stepped over him. “What kind of moron do you take me for, Ted? You think I just ran down here to hide from you? My Daddy taught me to keep spare clips all over the house. Just in case.”

  She left Ted where he was. He wasn’t going anywhere but the morgue. Her Daddy had taught her to be a good shot, too. Huffing out her remaining indignation, Missy traipsed up the stairs to the deck and picked up her cell phone.

  She dialed nine-one-one for the second time that day and waited while it rang.

  When the operator came on she asked to speak to Chief Winslow.

  “May I tell him who’s calling?”

  She smiled. “Tell him it’s the dumb blonde.”

  Be sure to check out AJ’s full-length novels at www.AJScudiere.com

  The NightShade Forensic Files: Under Dark Skies (Book 1)

  The Shadow Constant

  Phoenix

  God's Eye

  Resonance

  The SIN Trilogy

  Vengeance

  Retribution

  Justice - Coming Fall 2015

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