In Like Flynn (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #4)

“And whose idea was it to bury him?”


“Mine. Morell didn't want to, but I said it had to look terrible. It had to evoke public sympathy and make every parent’s heart stop beating from fear. Morell said he'd make sure the child stayed asleep and had plenty of air. He'd take care of everything, he said.” Rimes gave a great, heaving sob. “God, Bamey, do you think I haven't suffered a million times over? I'd have done anything to take back what I did—anything.”

“Get away from me.” Bamey yelled and gave him a great shove. “Get out of my sight now, before I tear you apart with my bare hands!”

“But I did it for you, Barney,” Joe said again. “I've devoted my entire life to your career. You'd never have gotten elected in the first place if it hadn't been for me. I only wanted what was best for you.”

“You're a depraved monster, Rimes.” Bamey was screaming now, half out of his mind with fury. “You make me sick. Start running before I call the police. The least I can do is give you a head start.”

Rimes spotted me, still standing within reach in the dappled shade. “We have to get rid of the girl, Barney. Don't you see that? She knows everything now. She’s dangerous. She can ruin you if the truth comes out.”

They were standing between me and the path to die house. I considered trying to run to the Van Gelders and Daniel, but I knew diey'd soon catch me. It was so tempting to promise them that I'd keep my mouth shut and behave like a good little girl, but I couldn't.

Then I heard Bamey say, There has been enough killing, Rimes. No one else is going to die to keep me in the damned Senate. I'm resigning today. I'm selling Adare and taking my daughter abroad. I'm through with public life.”

“No. No, you can't.” Rimes’s voice was shrill. “I won't let you. Not after all this. Not after everything I did for you. I'd rather have you dead first.”

He pulled a gun from hisrightpocket and aimed it at Barney. But before he could pull the trigger, I heard footsteps crashing through the undergrowth and Daniel came running toward us.

“Daniel, he’s got a gun!” I screamed as a shot whizzed past Daniel’s head.

“Hold it right there,” Daniel shouted and produced a gun of his own. “Drop the gun at once.”

But instead Joe Rimes leaped at me with remarkable agility for his size and dragged me in front of him, his arm tightly around my throat. “She’s coming with me,” he said. “Stay back. Don't try to follow us.”

He started dragging me backward down the slope, toward the river. His grip on me was so tight that I couldn't breathe and I coughed and choked as I fought for air. Lights flashed in front of my eyes. I was only half aware of Barney and Daniel watching helplessly as I was borne away, Daniel’s gun at the ready, but aimed directly at me. Slowly, carefully, Rimes pulled me down the steps to the landing stage, then he yanked me like a rag doll into the skiff, which rocked wildly and I thought would tip us both into the water. But he managed to right it and cast off while he kept me in front of him. He took an oar and gave a mighty shove, sending us out into the current.

The current was flowing fast through these narrows and bore us out into the stream. With one hand around my neck and the other clutching his gun, Joe Rimes couldn't use the oars and had to rely on the strength of the current to bear us away. I had no idea where he might be taking us. I don't think he knew either. Rocks approached and he had to put down his gun while he picked up an oar to fend them off, but he was still holding my throat too tightly and I couldn't turn my head to see where he had placed the gun.

When at last we were far from either bank, he threw me down onto the floor of the boat and waved the gun at me. “No funny business, understand? You lie there and don't move. I need both hands for the oars but I've still got the gun right here if I need it.”

Then he started to row. He was not a man of athletic build and his rowing was terrible. He jerked, splashed and caught crabs. After a few minutes his face was bright red. Sweat streamed down it, and he was puffing and panting. The current was still strong and swept us between towering banks. If we didn't hit a rockfirstor weren't swept into the undergrowth along the shoreline, we'd probably make it to the Tappan Zee—that wide lake into which the Hudson spreads. But I didn't know what Joe would do without help of the current. I knew that he couldn't row all the way to New York City and I was afraid that he'd decide he had to get rid of me—or that the police would start shooting at the boat. I remembered too well the last occasion when a police bullet had caused an unexpected tragedy.