Chapter 1

“I’ve been thinking,” Harrison Fisher said, breaking the silence while tapping his forefinger pensively on his upper lip.

Layla gripped the steering wheel hard enough to turn her knuckles white. Thankfully, it was dark, and her lover wouldn’t notice her reaction. Are we finally going to have the talk? Mentally, she crossed her fingers that he wouldn’t bring up the subject of divorce. She wasn’t ready to accept the responsibility that she was a homewrecker. Someone just like Layla had torn her world apart as a young girl, and she’d never forgiven the woman. At least Harrison has no children to destroy, she thought.

“You should live closer to me so we can see each other more frequently,” he responded. “I miss you.”

“Don’t you think your wife might become suspicious if you’re suddenly gone more often? You’ve often complained that she creeps around a lot, spying on you. What if she decides to hire a private detective to follow you?”

Reaching over to fondle the base of her neck, Harrison continued. “Look, it’s not just the sex, although I’m always open to a bit more of that,” he chuckled, “but I truly enjoy spending time with you. Take tonight for example, I’ve always wanted to drive through Lake Gibhot, and Renee will never venture somewhere new.”

“Harrison, it’s dark out,” Layla commented, bristling at the mention of his wife’s name. “It’s not like we can enjoy the scenery or stop and have a picnic.” She loved Harrison but hated being reminded he was a married man fooling around with a much younger woman. When he got like this, it made her worry that Harrison was indulging in a mid-life crisis.

“That’s not the point.”

“What exactly is the point?”

“You’re adventurous and open,” Harrison replied. “I’ve never met someone with your imagination and drive. We could do anything together.”

“I think it’s a bad idea,” Layla said and bit her lower lip. “It’s certainly not in my budget to live in the city, and if you think you’re going to pay for it, remember that if she starts to snoop, a regular monthly payout is going to be noticed and send up a bunch of red flags.”

“There are secret accounts she doesn’t know about,” he muttered.

“If a lawyer digs deep enough, they’ll find them.”

“Who said anything about lawyers?” Harrison squeaked, dropping his hand from Layla’s shoulder-length auburn hair.

“You do know you aren’t the only one that might hire one, right?”

Harrison sat in silence. He’d never actually considered that mousy Renee might be the one to call an end to their marriage.

“All I’m saying is that we should just leave things as they are,” Layla said quietly, “for now. It’s not like you’re planning on moving in with me anytime soon. There’s no rush.”

Jealousy reared its ugly head, and before Harrison gave much thought to his response, ugly words just tumbled out of his mouth. “Are you too busy all the nights we aren’t together? Do I have to worry about you seeing someone else?”

“First of all, NO!” Layla exclaimed, her voice escalating. The hitch in her chest felt as though Harrison had stabbed her. The last thing she wanted was to fight. Growing up, the Johnson household had been filled with knock-down-drag-out arguments that had led to Layla leaving at an early age. It was rather ironic that her home life had become broken by both of her parents seeking love in the arms of others. “And even if I was, you go home every night to your wife. I don’t even have a cat!”

Layla felt dizzy and upset, which caused her to look away from the road for only a moment and lose track of how fast she was driving. It only took an instant while the car sped around a bend in the lane, causing neither of them to see the broken-down vehicle until it was too late.

“Look out!” Harrison exclaimed.

With Layla’s reaction time delayed, the car couldn’t escape running into the back of the disabled Honda which blended in perfectly with its surroundings.

Layla’s eyes were wide with fear while she stomped on the brake with all her might, trying to avoid the inevitable collision. Her panic-filled screams echoed through the car, and she felt as though her lungs would burst. Her attempts to slow the Maserati were unsuccessful, and when it seemed helpless, Layla raised her arms in a futile effort to shield her face. The initial impact, the crunching of the metal, and the breaking of glass were only the beginning of her descent into a nightmare.

When Layla dared to open her eyes, she frowned, her mind enveloped in a fog. No longer seeing the other car, she allowed her right hand to cradle her head. Her airbag hadn’t deployed, and Layla could feel something wet trickling down her forehead. Daring to check on Harrison, she could see that his airbag had worked and he seemed dazed from the collision.

“What—the—hell—just—happened?” Layla panted in between quick, shallow breaths. Without realizing it, she whimpered in response to her pain and panic. “Where did the other car go?”

Opening his car door, Harrison fought with his airbag to escape and check out the damage. After a fair amount of struggling, he managed to break free. Harrison felt disoriented, and for a moment, the world swung around in a disturbing and distorted sensation, making him wonder if he had a concussion.

Staggering to the front of his car, he placed a hand on each side of his forehead after an initial inspection of the damage to his car. How was he going to explain all this damage? Between the dented fender and the torn-off bumper, his beloved Maserati appeared to be totaled. Turning left, he caught sight of the other vehicle just as he lost his balance and stumbled against the front of his car.

“Oh, my god,” he whispered, then turned toward Layla, still frozen in panic behind the steering wheel. “Are you hurt?”

Unable to form words, Layla’s only response was a long string of sobbing and nodding.

“Just stay put,” Harrison ordered. “I’m going to check on the other car.”

Carefully descending the steep incline, Harrison silently prayed that the car they hit was empty and the driver had already been picked up by a friend or, better yet, an Uber. The hill was steep, and with every step, little rocks dislodged to create a miniature landslide. Just when Harrison thought he’d mastered his balance, his right knee buckled, and he slid down the slope, momentarily catching his leg on the stubborn roots sticking out of the soil in the dark.

Righting himself by hanging onto the side of the prone vehicle, Harrison fumbled to retrieve his phone from his pocket to use it as a flashlight. While they had hit the broken down car from behind, rolling down the hill had caused additional damage, and Harrison frowned at the wreckage.

Just as Harrison was about to lean through the driver’s window to check inside, he became startled by the sound of twigs snapping. Turning around to face the direction of the road above, he noticed Layla gingerly making her way down the incline.

“Don’t come down here,” he hissed.

“I can’t stay up there alone,” she whined. “Is there a driver? Are they okay?”

Nature’s answer was to grant them with the passing of a dark cloud previously covering a full moon, and Harrison suddenly felt as though he was standing in a spotlight. “I was just going to check.”

Flashing the light over the interior, he could hear the car’s metal creak as it slid another inch or two down the slope. Startled, he jumped back from the heavily damaged car and held his breath as if it would stop the vehicle from sliding further forward.

“Stay where you are,” Harrison commanded, holding his hand toward Layla.

Shining the light inside of the little Honda micro-car, he froze. “Damn,” he whispered.

“Oh my god!” Layla uttered, holding her shaking hand up over her open mouth. The young woman inside looked to be a teen, maybe twenty-ish tops. The victim’s front was drenched in newly spilled blood, the flow originating from her nose and mouth. Her white blouse was full of wet, crimson flowers, and a sickening white bone protruded from her arm. If she had been conscious, she would have been screaming in pain.

“I thought I told you to stay away,” Harrison muttered, flashing his light at his mistress. “We’re in big trouble.”

“What are we going to do?” Layla quietly replied. Tears pooled in her eyes, and she started to sob. “We need to call the police and get this woman an ambulance.”

Careful not to touch the driver’s door, Harrison reached in and checked for a pulse. Finding none, he turned and shook his head at Layla.

“Noooo,” she wailed and collapsed into a heap on the ground.

“Ssssh.” Harrison comforted Layla and rubbed her back while trying to get her to calm down. Layla was breathing so erratically that he feared she would hyperventilate, and then he would have an entirely new set of problems.

“I killed her,” she muttered as she sat up and buried her face in her trembling hands. “I—I—I killed her.”

“Layla, snap out of it,” Harrison ordered gently.

No scenario ended well as Harrison ran through each one. Whatever choice he made would make the headlines, destroy his business, and end life as he knew it simply because he’d had an affair.

Staring into the night sky, an idea began to form. Harrison played it over and over in his mind until it was the only way it made sense.

Gently pulling Layla up by her arms, he made reassuring shushing noises while stroking her hair. In order for his plan to work, he was going to need Layla’s help. Without it, they were both screwed.

“What are we going to do?” Layla asked in a trembling voice.

Wrapping his arm around her, Harrison tried to be supportive. If Layla lost it now, he could never pull this off alone.

“It’s late, but we have to hurry in case someone drives by,” Harrison began while silently thanking the heavens that it was so late at night that any chance of traffic and potential witnesses was minimal. “Do you see how the car is facing the lake?”

Layla silently nodded, her cheeks damp and filled with mascara smears.

“We’re going to take advantage of the I-95 Seaboard Killer.”

Widening her eyes in horror, Layla shook her head and clamped a hand over her mouth.

“Look, she’s already dead,” Harrison reasoned, “and the serial killer the feds are searching for has already killed a bunch of women. This extra death will only add one more to his list of kills. No one will know. I doubt even he will by the time she’s found.”

“We will,” she whispered and gulped. “I don’t know if I can live with that. Can you?”

Harrison felt like he was inside an elevator in freefall. Could he live with it?

The alternative was ugly, and Harrison wasn’t sure he could survive the scandal. When looking at his trembling mistress, he wasn’t sure if she could withstand this, no matter which path they chose. At least this way, they had a chance to live the rest of their lives. Their only other option would destroy them both.

“I can,” he lied, trying to be strong and make her believe that she, too, could live through this. Trying to convince himself, Harrison added, “It was an accident.”

Tearing off his shirt, Harrison quickly wiped down every surface of the micro-car he’d touched. After that, he tore strips out of it and wrapped both of their hands in the fabric so they wouldn’t leave any fingerprints when they both attempted to hide the car and its dead occupant.

“C’mon, Layla,” Harrison assured her. “We have to hurry if this is going to work. If we get caught, we’ll end up in prison for the rest of our lives.”

Once the damaged car got rolling, it wasn’t long until gravitational force pulled it into Lake Gibhot, and at first, the car looked like it was going to float instead of sink. It entered the water with a quiet bloop and swoosh noise, and Harrison released the breath he’d been holding, thankful that the car had been quiet upon entry. After all, he’d never done this before and had no idea what to expect.

Layla dug her fingers into Harrison’s arm, her voice filled with a new sense of panic. “Why isn’t it sinking?”

“It will,” Harrison assured her. “It’s a lighter car, so it will take longer to sink. Don’t worry. Now, let’s get back to my car.”

With a sharp intake of air, Layla panicked. “What will we do about your car? It’s got a lot of damage.”

“I’ll take care of that,” Harrison assured her. Suddenly, he was very thankful to have a storage unit in the middle of nowhere. First, he’d store the car and then figure out what to do next. Underneath his overnight bag in the trunk, he found some bungee cords to tie up the sagging bumper, and within a few minutes, they would be back on the road with Harrison behind the wheel and sporting a fresh shirt.

Quickly checking out the homes that he could see through the treeline, Harrison breathed a sigh of relief when he didn’t spot any telltale lights shining. This area was predominantly a retirement area for those who coveted peace and solitude outside the big city hustle and bustle.

He froze when he heard a dog bark. Cautiously, Harrison drove off and went as far as he dared without any headlights to draw attention to their position.

Layla was curled up in the passenger seat, softly rocking herself back and forth while trying to find comfort.

“Tomorrow, this will all seem like a bad dream,” Harrison assured her. He said this to convince Layla and himself that it could be months or years before the police found the car.

If we’re lucky, it will never be discovered, he thought.

Chapter 2

“Is something wrong?” Janice Schumacher asked in an annoyed tone. “Your hand is shaking, and I don’t want to lose an eye.”

With a frightened look, Layla gulped and redoubled her efforts to ensure that her wealthy client got the makeover she had come to expect every morning. She needed the income but was distracted and unable to shut out the local news story currently playing on Janice’s television.

“S—s—sorry,” Layla stammered. Last evening’s events were still etched in her mind, and she felt understandably shaken. If it hadn’t been for the dwindling funds in her bank account, she would have never left home this morning. It’s not every day that you make a criminal mistake, kill someone, and then try to pin it on the local serial killer.

Layla kept repeating her mantra: I’m not a bad person. I’m not a bad person. But she knew she was lying to herself. Luckily, her client was far too interested in her trashy magazine to notice her makeup artist’s face becoming ashen and pinched with worry.

There was too much fearmongering and misinformation fed to the public for Layla to ever give news reports the time of day, but now they had her full attention. It was about her and what she had done. Until this morning, Layla believed them to be a cover-up of what was really going on. A sleight of hand, if you will, but wasn’t that what she was doing now?

The local anchorman shuffled his papers and turned to face the camera prompt light, his expression grim. He took a moment to clear his voice before delivering bad news to his audience.

“In local news, it seems that a young local woman has become the latest victim in a series of killings attributed to the I-95 Seaboard Killer. Unlike many of the previous victims, twenty-one-year-old Olivia Evans was found within hours after her car had been pushed into Lake Gibhot.

“Officials believe they may have a break in the case because the car failed to sink completely like other victims, creating a more accurate window of opportunity to extract evidence from her murder.”

Swiveling, the anchor stared into the next camera, and continued his report.

“It was fate that a local man happened to be walking his dog in the secluded area when he spotted the roof of a car above the water level.”

A video clip appeared on the screen over his shoulder depicting law enforcement, and other investigators on the scene before a woman’s hand appeared over the lens, informing the news crew to move back behind the crime scene tape.

“The FBI has recently been called in to investigate this multi-state murder spree.”

“It’s about time they called in the FBI,” Janice shouted, gesturing angrily toward the television screen. “Our local police force is about as clever as a turkey in a driving rainstorm.”

Layla stared at her employer, her mouth opened, feeling frightened. She panicked, wondering if Janice had already figured out she was guilty.

Staring at her assistant in the mirror, Janice squinted in annoyance. “You know, because turkeys are so stupid that they look up in the pouring rain and drown.”

“O—0—of course,” Layla replied, mouse-like.

After delivering a few seconds of disturbing information, the broadcaster moved on to the weather and the upcoming heat wave about to descend on the Eastern seaboard. Disinterested, Janice delved back into her magazine, wondering what the Kardashians were up to next.

Shattering the silence of the moment, Layla’s phone blasted “Treat Me Right” by Pat Benatar from within her pocket. With fumbling fingers, she raced to get to it and turn it off as she’d meant to do earlier. Mortified, she met Janice’s disapproving gaze.

“You’re not paid to take personal calls,” Janice reprimanded her.

“I forgot,” Layla replied breathlessly. From the ringtone, she knew Harrison was trying to call her, and he’d be upset that she’d sent him to voicemail. It wasn’t much of a stretch to guess that he’d just seen the same news broadcast she had.

Harrison had been a huge mistake, probably the biggest one in her life. Layla had sworn that she loved him, but that was before last night. His coldness regarding that poor woman made her reassess how she felt about him, and Layla was paying for her rashness now. It was too late to take her decisions back. No matter how much she regretted them, there was no way to go back in time and set things right. She was tied to Harrison whether she liked it or not.

Pasting on a smile to mask her fear, Layla moved on from Janice’s hair to applying foundation and the rest of Janice’s makeup. Layla dreamed of working in Hollywood or Broadway as a makeup artist to the stars, yet here she was, stranded on the East Coast, struggling and failing at everything she touched.

“Remember, heavy on the concealer,” Janice reminded her. “I’m not as young as I used to be, and I can’t have someone noticing these bags under my eyes.”

“Going somewhere important today?” Layla asked, trying to take her mind off her panic.

“Oh, you know, just lunch with the girls at Movello’s.”

Layla knew exactly what that meant—a seafood lunch with several bottles of wine split between four ladies reliving wild tales of their youth. Whether imagined or real, the ladies probably didn’t know the difference anymore because no one called them on their bullshit, no matter how imaginary it might be.

Janice’s husband was often out of town on business, and Layla was beginning to understand why. However, at that moment, she would give anything to trade places with her client. Janice may have been a bore, but she had a safe life with piles of family money and no one to answer to.

If she lived through this, Layla vowed to make better decisions and no more married men. Nothing good could ever come of it, and the proof of that was being blasted all over the news for her benefit.

***

“Darling, have you seen this?” Renee Fisher said from behind her husband’s turned back.

Understandably, Harrison’s mind had been elsewhere. Pounding down his second cup of coffee, he had been reliving the events of last night, wishing that he could banish the outcome from his memory. Because of being so wrapped up in the previous evening’s cataclysmic aftermath, Harrison barely heard Renee calling his name.

“Harrison? Harrison?” Renee called with each repetition gaining in intensity.

Harrison was met with his worst nightmare when he turned to look at the screen. They had found the car sooner than he’d imagined. Without enough time passing, would there be trace evidence left behind? Did he wipe everything down enough after touching the dead woman’s car? Had he managed to pick up any pieces of his car that might have been left behind? It was dark, and he couldn’t be positive that he’d succeeded. He knew that her car would be found sooner or later, but he prayed for later. Watching their tragic mishap broadcast on live television caused his heart to pound and his brow to break out in a cold sweat.

“Are you feeling okay?” Renee asked her husband, concern filling her eyes. She crossed the kitchen and held up the back of her hand to check for a fever. “You’re burning up. You must have caught something at the hotel this weekend. Were any of your business associates ill?”

“Huh?” Harrison froze, recovering from his initial shock. “Oh, they were fine,” he assured her.

Renee absently reached out to smooth her husband’s ruffled bangs and was taken aback when he pulled away from her touch.

“Didn’t the meeting go well?” she asked, still stunned by his rejection.

Knowing that their marriage had problems, Renee attempted to open communications with her husband, but he rarely responded the way she hoped. Little did she know that his meeting was all part of a cover for his weekend liaisons with his mistress.

While it was true that Harrison wanted to grow his realty business, the tales of expanding his borders past Boston would, for now, be only a ruse. There was no sense in building his business only to lose half of it in a divorce settlement. It did, however, provide an excellent cover for him to be away from home without raising any suspicions.

“I hope they catch him. What a vile man,” Renee exclaimed.

“Hmm, what?”

“Seriously, Harrison! It’s like you’re on another planet. This serial killer is doing horrible things to good people.”

“Yes, awful,” Harrison agreed absently. “Excuse me.”

“Where are you going?” Renee asked.

Grabbing the bag out of the trashcan, Harrison held it aloft. “Just taking out the garbage, dear.”

Quickly, he tied up the ends and made haste toward the garage so that he could get away from his wife. Once, they’d been in love, at least he thought they had, but then she became needy after her miscarriage. The way she hovered reminded him of a relentless, blood-thirsty mosquito.

After their loss, Renee hadn’t expressed any interest in sex, which had driven a solid wedge between them. Harrison could simply leave. There were no children to have a custody battle over. The sale of the house could be split between them, and Renee was free to have all the belongings she wanted. He could always buy new stuff.

There were lingering memories of happier times. Things that Harrison wasn’t quite ready to relinquish, such as recollections of how Renee would playfully laugh at him when he loaded the dishwasher wrong or when they’d read a book together in bed before making love.

Now they slept in separate bedrooms and spent more time apart than most enemies. The only communication he usually received from her was checking on him to see if he was really golfing. Their relationship had become stifling, and shortly thereafter, he met Layla, kept a burner phone, and left town on adventures he craved. He justified his actions by blaming Renee for it all, refusing to see that it took two to destroy a marriage.

“Damn it,” he swore under his breath when it became obvious that Layla rejected his call. When he tried again, it went straight to voicemail and he knew she’d turned her phone off.

Stifling the urge to curse loudly, Harrison rapidly sent her a text.

Harrison: We NEED to be on the same page about what happened.

Harrison angrily shoved his burner phone into his pocket after ensuring it was turned off. He couldn’t have it ring around Renee. That would be a disaster. It had been a stroke of genius to blame the accident on the I-95 Seaboard Killer. After all, what was one more death when you already have at least 20 deaths to your name?

The fact that Layla wasn’t answering her phone made him worry that she’d grown a conscience. Has she already gone to the police? Is she giving us both up? Harrison thought.

Closing the trash lid, he returned to the house to give Renee her expected peck on the cheek and grabbed his travel mug of Jo.

***

Disoriented, Sterling Quinn arose from a troubled slumber. When she reached for her boyfriend, she expected to find him still in bed. She was startled to discover that he wasn’t there, and his side of the mattress was cool to the touch.

She and her boyfriend, Malcolm Grant, had just purchased the home of their dreams a couple of years ago, purposely situated as the last house on a beautifully manicured cul-de-sac. There wasn’t much known about the previous owner who had disappeared mysteriously, allowing the house to become bank owned.

Sterling had fallen in love with it because the echoes of the house made her feel secure. After she and Malcolm had bought the house, she found an inconsistency in the blueprints and discovered a secret room. The presence of a safe room had done a lot to confirm her fascination with the place. Between them, they had seen horrific cases that would haunt the most seasoned law enforcement personnel, and this hidden feature bolstered her sense of security.

The master bathroom door swung open, and for a moment, she had to stop and admire Malcolm’s good looks. When she looked into his steel blue-gray eyes, she didn’t see the acting ADA, who had a reputation in court for being a shark. Instead, she saw the caring and protective man that had stolen her heart. She had to pinch herself sometimes to check if she was dreaming about the existence of their relationship. It was too perfect at times.

“Nervous, darling?” he asked with a hint of mischief in his gaze.

“Of course, I’m nervous,” Sterling replied. “It’s not often you get a second chance at the bureau. It’s practically unheard of.”

“I’m sure you can put that all behind you. Director Wolfe assured me you’d receive fair treatment.”

“Yeah, sure he will,” Sterling snorted. She and FBI Director Wolfe had worked together before, and she knew that there was going to be plenty of animosity between them.

Malcolm sat down on the edge of the bed and kissed her deeply.

Inhaling his cologne, Sterling felt a twang of arousal and regretted not taking another week before restarting her career.

“Oooh,” she groaned while playfully grabbing at the top of his charcoal paisley power tie and running her fingers down to the pointed end. “Mr. Grant, come back to bed. We can start our new jobs tomorrow, can’t we?”

“As tempted as I might be, no can do, darling,” he responded. “This I-95 serial killer case has been dropped right into my lap, and I’ve got to get out ahead of it before the good citizens of Boston crucify us. And you have some higher-ups to win over with your built-in grace.”

“What was I thinking?” Sterling whined while regretfully emerging from bed. “Do you think they are going to turn a blind eye to the hornet’s nest I stirred up? Law enforcement never forgets when you bring down their own house in a mushroom cloud that flattened the city and my career along with it.”

“Now, now,” Malcolm replied, patting her bottom. “They got what they deserved! Let’s not forget that they tried to kill you to keep you quiet.”

“Pretty sure they’re sorry they missed.”

“You may think that now, but one day you’ll look back on this and laugh,” he said. “Meanwhile, you better grab a quick shower while I get your breakfast started.”

While Sterling was still thinking up a quick retort, Malcolm grabbed his jacket and made his way down the stairs and into their kitchen.

Towel drying her honey-blonde hair, Sterling inhaled and closed her eyes in ecstasy. Malcolm was making his famous cinnamon French toast. If she hurried, it would still be warm. Making record time while combing her hair and putting on her silken robe, she arrived in the kitchen just as the hot food graced her plate.

The small kitchen television was on and tuned into the news. Malcolm was watching it with a burning interest. Without taking his eyes off the screen, he reached over and tapped Sterling on her arm to gain her attention.

“This guy never stops, does he?” Malcolm muttered. “Another victim so quickly on the heels of the last discovery. He must have been in a hurry to be this sloppy.”

“Maybe this will be the break needed to solve the case,” Sterling agreed. “See you after work?”

Malcolm looked her up and down. “My love, wild horses couldn’t keep me away.”

Continue Reading Behind the Mask – (2^nd Edition)