Killer Dreams Ch. 46-50

The sarcasm was evident, but as one of my only friends, she could get away with it. "Picking it up is easy. It's turning it on that takes concentration," I retorted. "I take it you've heard the news?"

"Of course! I can't believe this is finally over!"

I filled her in on my conversation with Gerald, and she should expect a draft statement within the hour. "I was already putting one together, but I'll work with him on this. That brings me to the next topic. I need you to do a book tour."

"You know how I feel about interviews and going on the road, Valerie." I'd refused everything over the past six years.

"Well, you've done press conferences and left the Lake, so I was hoping we could capitalize on the publicity. Sales are through the roof! That means press coverage and book signings!"

"You don't think it is poor taste to market off the deaths of three, now four people?"

"Not if we work it right. We need you to tell your side of the story as soon as possible, preferably with friendly interviews and controlled events. We don't want to look like we are taking advantage of the crimes."

Valerie was a driven woman, and she usually got her way. I'd throw her this bone because I'd need her goodwill later. "You won't let this go, will you?"

"Nope."

I let out a sigh. "Fine. Set up something in my home with someone who won't do a hatchet job. Offer exclusive access to the reclusive author at the center of the recent events kind of thing. See how much you can get for the rights to me."

"You want to sell the interview?"

"Donation to charity. Half goes to the St. Paul Police Foundation. The other half goes to the Women's Advocates domestic violence shelter in St. Paul. Tracy supported both, so I'll donate in her name."

"That's a great idea, David. It deflects any talk about your motives, and we get more publicity." There was a short pause. "I need your next book finished as soon as possible."

Stand by for heavy seas. "Valerie, there IS no next book. I couldn't stand the thought of someone using it as the basis for murders, so I deleted it."

I heard a 'thunk,' then some scratching noises followed by a scream. Finally, Valerie picked up the phone. "You DELETED the book you've been working on for SIX MONTHS that I already paid you an advance on? The one you said you'd finish by the end of the year?"

"Yes."

I heard a sigh from her end. "We had an agreement, David. I've been working on the marketing strategy for months! PLEASE tell me there is a backup copy somewhere. Or maybe I can send a tech guy out?"

There was no way I would finish writing a book from a dream of Talia dying from a rifle shot. Even the thought of working on it made me sick, but I couldn't tell Valerie the real reason. "It's not going to happen. I'll buckle down and get something else going soon."

"Look, David, I know these past few weeks have been difficult. I can almost understand why you would stop working on the book. Can't you just put it on the shelf while you do something else for a while?"

"I didn't put the book aside, Valerie. I burned it and scattered the ashes over the waves. My decision is final."

I could hear her tapping on the desk. "I'm going to have to run this past Legal, David. You might be in breach of our contract, and that could have consequences for you."

"Do what you need to do, Valerie. I told you I'd give you a book, and I will. It might not be done by January, though."

I heard a beep. "It's your lawyer. Let's get the statement out, and then I'll work on the interview and the book tour."

"TWO signings. Minneapolis and New York."

"Three. I need you in Los Angeles."

"Fine, but I want a private jet for both. I'm not going through an airport."

"Done." Shit, I knew I should have held out for more. "I'll call you back with the details."

"Thanks, Valerie."

I hung up and went to my office, tossing the phones on the desk. I logged into the private Discord chat I had with Talia. I hope this clears things up for you. I'm sorry I left like that. I'll be coming to the Cities soon if you can't get away. I love you.

I didn't get any replies that week. Valerie worked quickly; on Tuesday, a film crew from Fox Television spent all day with me. Of course, the reporter was a hot blonde and former college diver, and Valerie warned her to bring a swimsuit. I challenged her to join me for my daily workout; the video was pure gold. She did my morning lake swim, then the endless pool, finishing in the hot tub. We did part of the interview in the tub with the bubbler off, the camera showing the lake and Rocky in the background.

I felt good about the shoot and hoped the editing would be favorable. I made it clear I didn't blame the cops for looking at me, as 'the ex-husband is ALWAYS a suspect in a murder.' The reporter wasn't lobbing all softballs, and I had to answer questions about writing a how-to manual for getting away with brutal murders. "That was never my intention, of course. In my books, the killer gets caught because there Is no such thing as the perfect crime. It takes hard work by detectives and investigators, and sometimes you need good luck."

Our contract with Fox TV said we couldn't do any other events until after the Wednesday night premiere of my interview. I flew to New York for my first book signing on Thursday morning. I was at the Mall of America on Friday, in Los Angeles on Saturday, and back home Sunday afternoon. In between public events, I went on with a famous podcaster, a cable news show host, and some local radio stations.

Jennifer took good care of Rocky, but I never got an answer from Talia. She never even read my note. I sent roses to her Mom's house before the Mall of America appearance, and still nothing.

I sipped a beer as I looked out at the season's first snowfall. Did I fuck this up beyond repair? Talia and I had instant chemistry, and then I'd falsely accused her and walked away. The thought of losing her haunted me.

I was lonely like never before.

Chapter 50

Thomas Brickline's POV

Treasure Cay, Bahamas

Friday, October 15, 2021

"Thank you, Natalie." I grabbed my Mojito from the tray before the maid took the tray of cut fruit and drinks down the stairs. Dinner service was in an hour, and I'd just showered and changed after a day on the water. My two girls were lounging under a sun sail by the pool, so I grabbed a chair and pushed it between them. "How are you feeling, Laura?"

"The morning sickness has started," she told me. "It's not bad yet. It's easier to take when I can sit by the pool all day! I could get used to this place," Laura said as she sipped her virgin banana daiquiri. "Do we have to go back?"

"Terry said he wouldn't need this place until Thanksgiving, but Lisa can't miss that much school. Speaking of that, how is your homework going?"

My youngest set down her phone and made a face. "Did you have to bring that up? I was having such a fun day!"

"You can't dive forever," I told her. We'd spent most of the day skin-diving in the waters around Sunrise Cay off Terry Bannon's thirty-five-foot cabin cruiser. The craggy rocks and sand flats held lots of wildlife, including spiny lobsters, tropical fish, rays, and reef sharks. The Bahamas are famous for their large hammerheads, but thankfully, they stayed clear. I'd gotten lots of sunshine and exercise, so I was fighting to stay awake until dinner.

"I can try," she said with a smile.

I turned back to Laura. "When is our phone call with your company?"

"In five minutes," she replied. "The parameters you set gave them some ideas. I think you'll be pleased, but are you sure? If you decide to start another company, you'll need liquidity. Tying up your assets in a family trust makes tax sense, but you lose control of the funds."

"I'm more concerned with taxes and providing for you girls than I am about future investments," I said. "For over four decades, I've put my heart and soul into that company. It stopped being worth it after your Mom passed. It took me this time to figure out I needed to move on." I looked around. "I was so busy working that I never took time for this. When was the last time we were on vacation together?"

"Does a construction trade show count?" She laughed. "Dad, when was the last time you didn't work for three days in a row?"

"High school?" I couldn't remember. The construction season in Minnesota was only about eight months long, and I'd work twelve-hour days during the week at the sites and catch up on paperwork on the weekends. Winters were better, usually ten-hour days plus half a day on the weekend. "I couldn't keep up the pace, and my heart wasn't in it. My first grandchild is on the way, and my girls are now women with bright futures. I want to be around for you after missing so much of you growing up."

"We know how much you love us, Dad," Lisa said as she reached over to squeeze my hand.

"Time for the call," Laura interrupted. She had her tablet out and connected to the video call with her investment firm and my tax attorney back in Minneapolis. After the expected comments about her being in a bikini and me in a Hawaiian shirt, we got down to business.

The sale of my company meant I had lots of cash, so I needed to act quickly. My goal was to keep the family fortune intact for my daughters. I would transfer my home on Lake Minnetonka and most of the profits into the trust. My portion would pay out as an annuity that would give me a good income for the rest of my life. My daughters each got a share and could draw on it for education and living expenses, guaranteeing a good living. The rest I was transferring offshore to invest outside the country.

It would be a big tax bill up front, but the trust and offshore banking would protect the assets from seizure or lawsuit. I couldn't tell any of them that I was a serial killer, but there's always that chance I get caught. The trust means the Government can't touch the fortune belonging to my children. At best, they can take the small amount I pull out for living expenses.

My lawyers would have everything drawn up by Monday and would fly down so we could sign the paperwork. The other transactions they would start on immediately. We finished the call just before dinner, and Lisa ran inside to shower and change. "Thank you for helping with that, Laura. I know it's not what you want to do on vacation."

"It's all right, Dad. It's my job, and it takes my mind off the other things."

"Are you holding up? Be honest with me, baby."

She let her hand drop to her stomach. "I'm conflicted, Dad. I wanted a child for so long, and now I find out I'm pregnant with the offspring of a serial killer." She looked off at the ocean. "My kid will grow up knowing his father was a monster. He won't be able to escape it. I've thought about getting an abortion, but I want my baby!"

She started crying, and I pulled her into my arms and told her it would be all right, just like when she had nightmares as a young girl. She had no idea who her father was, or she'd have real nightmares. "The sins of the father are not the sins of the son," I told her. "Your child is innocent. Your child is wanted. You can raise your baby to be a good person, just like you are a good person."

"I hope so."

"Come on. I'm hungry." We went inside, had a good meal, and went to bed early.

I called some local churches in the morning while the girls slept in. The priest at St. Mary and Andrew agreed to meet with Laura for counseling later that morning. "Dad, we're not even Catholic," she objected over breakfast.

"I didn't know that talking about your problems required him to be from the same denomination," I replied. "You'll never see him again, and you can't keep your fears and frustrations bottled up."

"You can talk to me anytime," Lisa said.

"I know I can, sis. No offense, but you've never been married, widowed, found out your husband is a serial killer or found yourself pregnant and alone. I need advice from someone who has been there, and you have the same relevant experience as a Catholic priest!" She'd snapped the last part. Her sharp tongue made Lisa tear up and look away. "I'm sorry, Lisa. I didn't mean that."

"This is what I'm talking about, Laura," I said. "I want to help you, but I'm not the kind of person you need. I'm not good with emotional females, and I can't fix your problems with spackle, concrete, or paint." That got the girls to laugh. "Father Rodrigo counsels people every day. If nothing else, he can listen to you and help you deal with things. We can't hide here forever."

"We can't?" She looked up at me with pleading eyes.

"It's not my home, but I could see myself living this way." I could easily trade windchill for tide forecasts, even if it meant hurricanes. The warmth was great for my old bones. "I'd like a home in the tropics with low taxes, maybe in South Florida. It will take time and a lot of travel to figure out where I want to live the rest of my life, though."

"Figure it out quickly because I wouldn't mind going to med school in Florida or the Caribbean," Lisa said. "I am already working on my applications."

"I can work anywhere," Laura said. "My firm has branches in Miami, Fort Lauderdale, and Tampa."

"That leaves poor Lana back home with her surgical residency," I replied.

"She has a year left, then she can get a job anywhere," Lisa objected. "She can stay at our house until she moves."

I nodded. "I'm taking Margarite with me," I promised. "Laura, I think talking to Father Rodrigo would help. Can I bring you to him today?"

"Fine," she said. I knew from experience that the exasperated 'fine' meant anything but that, but I'll take it for now. Lisa planned to stay by the pool, so it was just the two of us in the Range Rover heading up to the church. "What will he think if I tell him I've thought about getting an abortion?"

"I'm sure he will advise against it, but I doubt if it is the first time he's talked to a woman about it," I told her. "Try to keep an open mind."

I turned just before the church parking lot, continuing onto the sand and the beach parking lot. "I thought we were meeting with the priest," Laura objected.

"We are," I said. "When I explained your hesitancy, the Father asked me to bring you here. He's sitting at the picnic table under that shelter over there. In the Bahamas, even an old priest can wear Tommy Bahama." This section of the beach was pretty empty this morning, and they would have lots of privacy.

I left her at the shelter, opting to walk the beach and think. Occasionally, I'd look back to see Laura deep in conversation with him. I'd turned around and was heading back when my phone rang, with a number I didn't recognize. "Brickline."

"Do you know who this is, Thomas?"

The distinctive accent and phrasing made her instantly recognizable. "Yes. This contact breaks our protocols."

"Not in this case. I've got a rat trapped in my basement, and I need you to take care of it immediately."

I laughed. "I'm in the Bahamas. Call someone else."

"This is YOUR problem, Thomas. We warned you to take care of this problem before it spread, so I don't give a damn if it interrupts your vacation. You need to dispose of this vermin."

Dammit! "Fine. I'll see if I can get a flight out today. I can't get there before tomorrow morning."

"The rat's not going anywhere. Goodbye, Thomas." The phone clicked off.

I sent a note to the flight service, asking when I could get a jet to take me home. Then I called Lisa. "I just got a call from Terry Bannon. They're having some issues with incorporating my company into theirs, and he needs me back in Minnesota for a few days. Can you stay here with Laura until I return?"

"Uh, YEAH! I thought you were going to say we had to leave!"

"You guys are fine staying here. I can't leave Terry hanging while I'm using his place, so I'll bring Laura home and pack." I talked to her about trying to bring Laura out of her shell. Lisa promised she'd get her to leave the house again.

I had to wait a few minutes for Laura to finish talking with the priest before he waved me over. "You have a good daughter, Mr. Brickline," he said.

"I certainly do," I said as she leaned on my shoulder. "Thank you."

Three hours later, I was wheels up and heading back home. I needed to bury this shit deep and get back to my girls.