Grave Instinct Read online

  Nikki wanted to plug her ears, to shut him out, but most of all she wanted to leap across the table and wrap her hands around his throat. Erin’s erratic behavior, the shadows in her beautiful eyes, had been created by this man. Sonja’s warning and the ominous picture on the tarot card flashed through her head.

  “You’re the devil,” she breathed.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  “I’m not sure if I’m the devil,” Robert chided. “I invested a lot of time in your family. Only fair I receive something in return.”

  Nikki gaped. Even his features looked different now. His mouth thinner, his eyes ugly. And though he had no horns, he really was the devil, taking everyone she’d ever loved. His sly digs about Justin, even his pretend defense of her father, had all been contrived. And she’d listened, trusting him, letting him shape her beliefs even after he planted fake evidence in her office. And in her head.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” Robert chided. “I’m just a man who fell in love with the wrong woman. If you had given up like any normal person, this wouldn’t have to happen. But you always wanted to be with your sister. Now I’m granting your wish.”

  His gaze slid outside to Gunner who was still sitting by the flowerbed. Eagerly waiting. Wagging his tail, exactly the way he had at the riding stable.

  Comprehension struck, along with Nikki’s horrified gasp. Erin was buried in those flowerbeds. That was why Robert had been so disturbed whenever Gunner sniffed around the flowers. And the reason he’d gone to so much effort fencing in a separate dog area. It also explained why Gunner’s interest had never waned, even when Robert served him unlimited dog bones.

  She gave an agonized moan. All this time, wondering, hoping, searching. Her mother had died not knowing what happened to her beloved daughter. They’d thought Robert was their savior when all along he’d been a vicious murderer.

  “You fucking monster.”

  But her words were weak, slurred with helpless fury, and Robert only grinned. “I’m the same man I was yesterday. And I’ve taken enough insults from you girls. Now I just need to tie up some loose ends.”

  He rose, strode to the freezer and pulled out a brown-wrapped package. He slid open the screen door before she realized it was a bone for Gunner. Poison?

  “Leave it, Gunner,” she called. But her voice was too weak and Gunner was too far away to hear.

  Robert strode across the concrete deck, waving the bone in his hand. He whipped back his arm and tossed the bone high over the pool. “Get it, Gunner!” he called, his voice excited.

  Gunner obediently wheeled away from the flowers, charged across the concrete deck and launched himself high in the air. Water sprayed as he splashed in the middle of the pool and wrapped his jaws around the bone. He turned, triumphant, swimming a half circle as he searched for a place to climb out.

  However, the pool was too deep, the sides too high, and he looked up at Robert, his eyes a question.

  “No,” she moaned. Gunner will drown! Her arms flailed around the table as she struggled to rise. Robert stepped inside, pulled the screen shut and roughly shoved her back in the chair.

  “Well, that’s taken care of.” He rubbed his hands together. “Gunner’s a big strong dog. How long do you suppose he’ll last?”

  “D-don’t,” she said. “Not necessary.”

  “It certainly is. His digging was worrisome, the way he always sat by the yellow marigolds, as if he knew. Well, that’s no longer a problem.”

  She wanted to close her eyes and banish the nightmare. To wake up to a new day and the Robert she thought she’d known, a man who fenced his yard and supplied bones because he cared for them, not because it was the best way to keep Gunner distracted.

  And now he was making her sit and watch her dog drown.

  A sob clogged her throat. Gunner wasn’t even worried yet. He swam large circles around the pool, water rippling in his wake, the bone gripped beneath his strong jaws. Every few seconds, he glanced toward the door, as if wondering when she’d show up. He didn’t bark or make a sound. Maybe he thought he’d be scolded for jumping in the pool, something that was always a no-no, simply because it was a death trap.

  Tears blurred her eyes. She didn’t want to watch but couldn’t look away. The shallow end was too deep for him to touch the bottom, the pool deck too high to let him hook his paws. And he wouldn’t go near the vertical ladder. Even now, he gave it a wide berth, viewing it as an instrument of torture, something that gave a painful shock when his paws touched the rungs. As Tony had said, Gunner wouldn’t climb a ladder to save his life.

  “Please.” A sob built in her throat. “Help him. You don’t have to do this. He can’t say anything.”

  Robert raised an eyebrow. “Interesting you’d beg for your dog’s life but not yours. But the answer is no. Because he tries to tell, every time he’s here. Besides, everyone knows you two are always together. He has to disappear.”

  “Gunner, up!” She tried to motion with her hand even though her frantic voice was too weak to carry. But her arm flopped over the table, resembling a beached fish rather than a firm signal.

  “He can’t get out,” Robert said smugly. “We all know ladders are his weakness. And he trusts me. Dumb dog doesn’t have a clue what’s happening.”

  That was the horrible truth. Gunner knew Robert, viewed him as a provider. He’d never even heard Robert yell. And her motor skills were too impaired, her voice too weak to alert Gunner to danger. But he had to try to climb out of the pool now, before he was too exhausted.

  She tried calling again, her mouth working ineffectually even as tears warmed her face. She was vaguely conscious of Robert leaving the room.

  Steps sounded. Robert towered above her as he dropped her phone and car keys on the table. “I moved your car into the garage. Once it’s dark, I’ll dump it out by Carlton’s estate. But don’t worry. You and Gunner will be staying right here.”

  She hadn’t realized Robert had left the room long enough to move her car. He seemed to have everything planned, as if he knew it would come to this. Now he was dumping the contents of a plastic bottle into the sink, humming tunelessly. Oh, God. A homemade silencer.

  She peered frantically at Gunner. He was still swimming, but kept twisting his head toward the door. As if he realized this wasn’t normal.

  She had to give him some sign, a signal that he needed to try to save himself. But it would take something extreme.

  “You’ll like being together,” Robert said, cheerfully placing the bottle beside her gun and phone. “Now is there anything else we should discuss? I can’t hold a funeral for you, at least not immediately. But everyone will assume you’re dead, and that Carlton was responsible. He may even be credited with all three murders although personally I’d prefer that your father remain a suicide.”

  Robert’s face was hazy and it was difficult to process his words. Her head felt like it was floating, separate from her body. Clearly though, her father was Robert’s hot spot. And she had to hurry before she ran out of time. She no longer had enough coordination to pinch her hand so she jabbed her finger backward against the table, welcoming the spike of pain. Something, anything, to keep her words coherent.

  “Dad…was…better cop than you,” she said. “Better m-man.”

  Robert’s eyes slitted.

  Her next words came out even clearer. “Mom said…better lover too.”

  “Shut up!”

  She smiled although her mouth was too numb to feel her lips, so maybe she didn’t smile at all. But she was able to force a snicker. “S-said…you sucked.”

  Robert stalked around the table. “Shut up. Now!”

  “Dad’s friends… Everyone knew…you could never satisfy a grown woman—”

  The blow came so fast she didn’t see Robert’s fist. It knocked her off the chair, smashing her head against the base of the counter. Her vision spotted and something warm trickled from her nose. She prayed it was blood. Hoped he wouldn’t be able to c
lean it up. And she fervently hoped Gunner would notice the violence and be motivated enough to climb the ladder. If he was spooked enough, he might be able to escape.

  The toe of Robert’s white golf shoe was inches from her nose, marked now with blood spatter. Investigators would have something, if only they knew where to look.

  She swallowed the metallic taste and forced her head off the tile, trying to bring him into focus. She had to keep him off balance, hope he made another mistake. His voice wasn’t loud enough to alert neighbors but Gunner must be shocked to hear Robert yelling. And if she could get just get close enough to scratch his face, surely someone would ask questions.

  “That’s why you had to rape a fifteen-year-old,” she went on. “Not enough of a man. Not like Dad.”

  “Shut up!” Robert was still hollering, his face mottled with rage. “That bitch never appreciated me. None of your fucking family did.” The kick to her face was so vicious, her next words turned into a choke of pain.

  Robert barged around the table, cursing and reaching for the gun. Last chance. She had to push herself up, try to scratch him. But her arms felt weighted down, her fingers barely able to curl into fists.

  Her brain and body seemed to be misfiring and an odd mixture of wet heat needled her skin. Something clattered to the floor. Her ears hurt. And Robert was making strange noises, no longer swearing but making coarse animal sounds.

  She pressed her cheek against the tile. Trying to turn. To see. But the only thing in her blurred sight was a green pop bottle. Then she recognized Robert’s bloody shoes. He was pressed against the counter, only ten feet away. And he clutched a dripping dog, one arm wrapped around Gunner’s back, the other waving a gun.

  She sobbed. Part relief, part terror. Somehow Gunner had come to her rescue but he was confused. He wasn’t attacking like the K-9s at the training center. Wasn’t grabbing Robert’s gun hand. He knew Robert too well, didn’t want to hurt someone who always fed him.

  Robert seemed to be moving in slow motion. But he was able to bring the gun around. Able to point it at Gunner’s head.

  “Fass!” she yelled, pouring all her energy into a desperate holler. Never had she used the German word before but it had been on Gunner’s list of commands. Justin had said to only use it when she didn’t care if he hurt someone. She certainly didn’t care about Robert. She only wanted to stop him from shooting her dog.

  Too late! The gun went off. Gunner yelped. Then his jaws clamped around Robert’s gun arm. Bones crunched.

  “Get him off,” Robert screamed.

  She ignored him. Could only stare in horror at Gunner’s bloody shoulder. He couldn’t be hurt too bad. Not judging by his ferocious growls or the vice-like clamp he had on Robert’s gun arm. But even as she watched, blood pooled on the floor.

  “Good dog,” she managed, curling on her side. She drew her legs up and inched forward, desperately scanning the floor for the gun. But it was way over by the fridge. An impossible distance. At least Robert couldn’t reach it either. But Gunner couldn’t hold him forever, and her dog needed medical help.

  Her phone was closer, lying on the floor just beyond the plastic bottle. Four feet seemed an impossible distance but she forced herself to crawl, slowly, laboriously, fighting her fuzziness. Her gaze met Robert’s, his expression shifting from pain to predatory cunning.

  “You’re going to pass out soon,” he said softly, taking care not to further excite Gunner. The dog was still growling, his jaws locked around Robert’s arm, pinning him in place but not causing any more damage.

  “If you call the police,” Robert said, “they’ll shoot Gunner. He isn’t going to let any stranger get close. So if you want him to live, you’d better calm him down first.”

  Nikki ignored him. Obviously he was hoping she’d pass out before she could call 911. Even now, waves of gray blurred her vision. She bit her lip, concentrating on moving her right leg, then her left in a clumsy crawling motion, focusing on the length of beige tile that separated her outstretched hand from the phone.

  She didn’t want to hear Robert’s voice, didn’t want to see his satisfaction, and she certainly didn’t want to see her dog’s shattered shoulder. How long could Gunner hold him?

  Definitely longer than she’d be conscious. But if the police burst in, Robert was correct. Gunner would try to protect her. They’d have to shoot.

  She wanted to tell Gunner to rip out Robert’s throat. That would solve one problem. But it wouldn’t help her dog. He’d be in full protective mode then, attacking anyone who tried to get close. Police and paramedics wouldn’t understand, wouldn’t realize he’d only been following her command. Under the circumstances, they’d pull their guns. Injured humans always came first.

  It was hard to think, to weigh the options. Her brain, usually so quick, had quit working. Robert was still talking, trying to confuse her, using up the last seconds before she passed out. His voice turned more triumphant as he watched her fade.

  She couldn’t let him win. Couldn’t risk Gunner being shot. There was only one man her dog trusted. She just hoped he’d answer.

  She crawled the last remaining inch. Forced her hand around the phone. And called Justin.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Nikki’s head pounded and cotton seemed to clog every corner of her mouth. She pushed her head against the pillow, struggling to swallow. Someone pressed a straw between her lips.

  “Little sips,” a deep and familiar voice said.

  Justin. Memories crashed over her in waves and she jerked forward, her gaze scrabbling around the room. But she didn’t see Gunner. Only the cold confines of a hospital room with its tiled floor and pervasive smell of disinfectant. “Gunner?” she croaked.

  “With the vet.”

  She pressed her lips together, wanting to hear more but afraid to ask. Judging by the gentle way Justin held her hand and the dark hollows shadowing his eyes, he had bad news.

  “How bad is he?” she finally asked. “Did the police hurt him?”

  Justin shook his head. But he leaned over the bed, staring at her with a haunted expression.

  “Is Gunner going to be okay?” she asked. “Will he live?” She kept her eyes on Justin’s face, desperate for reassurance. He always told the truth, always kept his promises. So if she could only get him to say the words, Gunner would live.

  “He’ll live. They removed a bullet from his shoulder and he’ll need extensive rehab. But Tony has offered full use of the center’s facilities and that will go a long way in regaining mobility.”

  Such relief swept her, it was hard to concentrate as Justin went on to speak about blood loss and ligaments and a therapeutic swimming pool. All she could do was grip his hand in gratitude. Her last conscious fear had been that the police would shoot Gunner, unaware that he was a hero. The dog who wouldn’t climb a ladder to save his life had finally done it—to save hers.

  “When I got your call,” Justin said, “I could hear him growling. That’s when I knew it was Robert.” He shook his head, his eyes ravaged. “They’d looked at him way back but never considered him a likely suspect.”

  “So you know what he did?” She couldn’t remember what she’d said on the call to Justin, only that it had been difficult to form the words. “Did you get to his house first?”

  “No, I was five minutes behind emergency responders. But I advised there was a K-9 in the home and requested they wait for me if possible. So they ignored Robert’s insistence that Gunner was vicious and needed to be shot. Amazingly, you were still conscious, still trying to stop anyone from hurting him. You weren’t very coherent though, just stubborn and full of fight.” A smile softened the corners of his mouth before he quickly sobered. “It was the evidence techs who found the spot where Gunner had been digging. They did recover remains. I’m sorry, but it’s probably Erin.”

  “It is.” Nikki shifted, lifting her head from the pillow and leaning against Justin’s comforting arm. “I found her helmet in the attic. The o
ne she’d been wearing that day. That’s why Robert decided I was a threat.” Her voice stalled as she remembered his utter ruthlessness. It took a moment to continue.

  “He put something in my tea,” she went on. “Then he threw a bone, luring Gunner into the pool. I never realized he hated me so much.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut. Many of the details were fuzzy but the virulence on Robert’s face was seared into her brain. And that was one of the most painful things to absorb. She was vaguely aware of Justin assuring her she didn’t have any broken bones, that they were just waiting on blood tests in order to determine the drug Robert had used.

  She tried to listen. But she was numb, unable to reconcile the murderous Robert with the caring man she’d loved. And too gutted to ask any more questions. She could feel Justin watching, sensed his concern, but she just wanted to sleep. And not think or talk or feel.

  “Robert certainly underestimated Gunner,” Justin said. “There’s a huge rip where the dog tore through the screen. Gunner finally had enough motivation to climb a ladder. Naturally the K-9 unit is demanding his return.”

  Her eyes opened and she jackknifed forward, all numbness pushed aside by the idea of losing Gunner. “No way! I’ll fight any ownership claim. Do you still have a receipt? Anything like that?” Her hand fisted around Justin’s fingers. It was then she caught his relieved smile.

  “That’s my girl,” he said, and it was obvious he realized that her entire foundation had been rocked. She’d blamed her father for wrecking their family when it had been Robert, her father’s trusted friend. And Justin didn’t even know the worst.

  “There’s more.” She sucked in an achy breath. “Robert killed my father. Set it up to look like a suicide.”

  The teasing glint disappeared from Justin’s face. His arm tightened around her shoulders and somehow his shock made it easier for her to sit straighter and keep talking. “It was jealousy over Mom. Robert kept pictures in his attic. They used to date. That’s why Robert chose Erin as her stand-in. He was having sex with my sister and she threatened to tell.”