Page 121 of The Accomplice
‘Actually, could you get me a fresh glass,’ said Carrie, the strawberry at the bottom of her champagne flute had begun to look a little mushy.
‘Of course,’ she said, and as she leaned over to pick up Carrie’s glass, she noticed something.
‘Oh, that’s a gorgeous cameo brooch you’re wearing,’ said the flight attendant.
‘Thank you. It’s a family heirloom,’ said Carrie.
The flight attendant left, and Carrie gazed out of the window at the blue Atlantic beneath her. Another four and half hours to London and a new life.
Part of her felt bad for Otto. No one had loved her like him. Not even Daniel.
Ever since she was young, Carrie had longed to be someone else. Perhaps that’s why she had tried to become an actor. She had no idea who she was, but she liked the idea of being other people – nowthatwas intoxicating. It had been her dream to be on Broadway. She had given it her best shot and failed. The money she had from the sale of her parents’ house had only gone so far in the city, and she had to work a lot harder at menial jobs to make her rent. In some ways, all the effort she had made to subtly sabotage the brakes on her father’s pick-up, which resulted in the crash that killed her parents, wasn’t really worth it. The house hadn’t fetched much on the open market and New York was expensive.
Things were difficult, until she met Otto.
He had looked after her. Helped her. She knew he was special the first time she met him. He wore the same kind of mask as she did – pretending to be human. She knew his heart was as cold as hers when they first kissed.
And when Otto told her of his fantasies, the power he could have from taking life, from becoming the Sandman, he had expected Carrie to be terrified. He had not expected her to ask if she could watch. But Otto’s appetites exceeded her own. And she worried. Even though he was careful and clever, one day he would make a mistake.
When Otto introduced Carrie to Daniel Miller, she knew this was someone who could take the blame for them. If they were careful, they could set this man up for their crimes, and even take his vast fortune for themselves in the process. Otto had money, but not real money. Not the kind that brings total freedom. Of course, Otto hated Daniel.
Everything would have worked out fine, except for that day when the cop came to their house, and she had been forced to give Daniel an alibi. The other mistake was the last killing. Carrie had failed to notice the blood on her sleeve from the Nielsen murders. She had been excited, and stood too close to Stacy Nielsen as Otto stabbed her. Daniel’s fingerprint was already on Stacy’s body. Carrie had washed the shirt, and hung it in her closet, not realizing Stacy’s blood had been on it.
That led to her arrest. And trial.
And she could have weathered that storm if Otto had simply left the trial to take its course. Carrie had written out the journals implicating Daniel, all apart from the last entry. She had warned Otto not to interfere. When he killed Chester Morris, and the agent, she knew he could not be controlled. That’s why she had fled. She was worried he would make another mistake. And he did, leaving a syringe cover with his saliva on it in Kate Brooks’ apartment.
She felt bad about betraying him. Felt bad about inventing the story of Daniel’s affair with Stacy Nielsen, and subtly dropping Otto into the frame for the murders. She knew, even though she had betrayed him, he would not accuse her while he was testifying. He loved her too much, and he was willing to sacrifice himself for her. While she had lived with Daniel, Otto was insanely jealous. He never said so, but she saw the relish with which he cut Daniel’s throat. And then he took the watch, the Panerai she had given to Daniel as a gift, and asked her to place it on his wrist. She did so. For him.
The investigator, Lake, had murdered Otto. In some ways, Lake had done her a favor. If Otto had been captured, there was always the risk he could have changed his mind about Carrie and told the FBI the truth. Now he was dead, and the truth would never be known.
After she had paid her legal fees and the FBI had removed their monitoring and alert system on Daniel’s accounts, Carrie had thirteen million dollars to show for her efforts. Nowthatwas freedom.
‘Here you go, fresh champagne,’ said the flight attendant, handing her the glass.
Carrie sipped her champagne, put her headphones on, hit play on her laptop to resume the movie she’d downloaded.
It was her favorite part.
Mitchum sat on the tree stump in the dark, watching his victims in the house. He was powerful and unafraid. Not just watching the woman and children he planned to murder – he was serenading them.
In her light falsetto voice, Carrie settled back into her seat and softly sang along.
‘Leeaaannning, leeeaaaning, leaning on the everlasting arms …’
CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
GABRIEL LAKE
Lake sat at the small dining table in his meagre apartment.
He had no memory of the thirty blocks he’d walked home from the library. All he could think about was Carrie Miller, and how she had played and manipulated Eddie, Kate, Harry, Bloch, the FBI, and ultimately even her lover – Otto Peltier.
His foot tapped out a beat on the floor. Staring at the cell phone on the table in front of him, he tried to calm his breathing. A murderer had gotten away. And in some small part, Lake had helped that happen.
He picked up the phone, dialed Eddie.
The lawyer picked up.
