Abby jogged down the driveway towards Deanna. Smatterings of their conversation drifted to him.

'-accident – help-'

Abby gestured at the house. '-911 -?' She didn't have a cellphone, hated them.

Deanna grabbed Abby's arm, her voice shrill with panic. '-son – trapped – please-'

Then Abby did what Gregory knew she'd do. She followed Deanna. When Deanna stumbled, Abby grabbed her arm and draped it around her shoulders, supporting the injured woman. Very heroic. Also very stupid, because, when she reached the shadows of the cedar hedge, all Deanna had to do was trip Abby then throw her weight on top of her, and Abby went down. Deanna shoved a chloroform-soaked cloth over Abby's mouth and nose, and she stayed down.

Deanna turned towards Gregory's hiding spot, but he didn't step out. Not yet. First, he was making damned sure Abby was out cold. If anything went wrong, Deanna's face would be the only one she remembered seeing. He motioned for Deanna to slap Abby. She did. When Abby didn't move, Deanna slapped her again, the sound cracking through the silence.

'I think that's enough, my dear,' Gregory said, stepping from the bushes.

He tossed Deanna the rope and watched her tie Abby up. Then he took over.

Deanna slapped Abby again, the sound echoing the rhythmic smack of the waves against the boat hull. Gregory shifted, fighting the growing worm of pique in his gut. She wasn't waking up. What if she didn't? He'd have to go through with it, of course, killing her, but he'd really hoped she'd be awake. He wanted her to see who wielded the knife, to regain the power she'd sucked from him over the years.

Gregory grabbed the knife.

'I'll wake her-'

Deanna snatched it from his hand. 'No, let me.'

Deanna lowered the knife tip to Abby's cheek and pressed it against her pale skin. A single drop of blood welled up. Abby's eyes flew open. Gregory reached for the knife, but Abby bucked suddenly, startling them both, and the knife clattered to the deck. Abby jerked against her bonds, wriggling wildly. Deanna dived to hold her down. In the struggle, Deanna's foot knocked the knife across the deck.

'Don't!' Gregory said. 'She's tied. She's not going anywhere.'

Deanna nodded and pulled back from Abby. She looked around, gaze going to the knife by the cabin door.

'I'll get that,' Deanna said.

As she pushed to her feet, Gregory took her place, and loomed over his terrified wife.

'Ah, now she's afraid,' he said, smiling down at her. 'Smart girl. Don't worry. This won't hurt a bit.' He grinned. 'It'll hurt a lot.'

'Gregory?' Deanna said behind him.

His lips tightened at the interruption. He turned to her. 'What?'

'Yesterday you asked if I was looking forward to this. I said I wasn't.' She bit her lip, looking sheepish. 'Well, I just wanted to let you know, I lied. We are looking forward to this.'

'Good. Now-' He stopped. 'We -?'

Deanna smiled. Her gaze moved over his shoulder.

'Yes,' she said. 'We.'

He turned, following her gaze. Behind him, Abby sat up, tugging the rope from her wrists.

'Wha-?' he began.

Something cracked against the side of his head. He stumbled and managed to turn just enough to see Deanna raise the fire extinguisher again. She swung it.

Abby and Deanna stood at the side of the boat, watching Gregory's body sink into the inky water. A late-night fog was rolling in, a dense grey blanket barely pierced by the distant lighthouse beam.

'You're sure he won't wash up on shore?' Deanna asked, nibbling her thumbnail.

'Which way is the tide going, hon?' Abby asked gently.

'Out. Right. You said that. I forgot. Sorry.'

'That's OK. You did a good job.'

Good, but not perfect, Abby thought as she bent to wipe a smear of blood from the deck. She'd have to treat that later. If the first blow had succeeded, there wouldn't be any blood. It took a second hit to the head to induce bleeding. But Deanna hadn't known that and Abby hadn't thought to mention it and, really, it wasn't as if Abby would have changed her mind when the first blow failed.

She stood to see Deanna frowning as she squinted overboard, trying to see Gregory's body through the fog.

'It's OK, hon,' Abby said. 'He's definitely heading out to sea and will be for a few hours yet. Even if he does eventually wash up on shore, it won't be near here.'

'But they'll identify him, won't they?'

'Yes. But then what? He wasn't shot. He wasn't stabbed. He hit his head and drowned. Happens all the time. Even if they suspect something, it can't be linked to us. We were careful.'

'You're right,' Deanna said, forcing a small smile. 'You're always right.'

Abby walked to Deanna, smiling. 'Not always. I married that bastard, didn't I?'

She put her arms around Deanna's neck and leaned in. Their lips met. Deanna's parted, hesitant at first, as always, as if unsure, maybe still a little shocked at herself. A minister's daughter in spite of everything, Abby thought. She kept the kiss gentle and tentative, their lips barely touching. After a moment, Deanna tried to pull Abby closer, but she held back, teasing Deanna with modest kisses.

Abby reached down to the bottom of Deanna's blouse and began to unbutton it, her hands moving as slow as her lips. Deanna gave a soft growl of impatience, but Abby only chuckled. Only when the blouse was fully unbuttoned did Abby let her hands touch Deanna's skin. She pressed her fingertips against Deanna's stomach, then traced twin lines up her ribcage. She cupped Deanna's bare breasts, and slid her thumbs over her hard nipples. Deanna groaned, grabbed the back of Abby's head and kissed her, all shyness gone. As Abby returned the kiss, heat throbbed through her. Perhaps just once more… But no. She couldn't.

She wrapped her hands in Deanna's hair and eased her back a step. Deanna's balance faltered. She tore her lips from Abby's to shout a warning that she was too close to the edge of the boat. But Abby already knew that.

She put her hands around Deanna's wrist and thrust her away. Deanna started to fall. She grabbed blindly and caught Abby's charm bracelet, but the clasp came apart. Deanna's arms windmilled as she fell over the edge.

Abby walked to the back of the boat and pulled up the anchor. In the water below Deanna thrashed and screamed. As Abby headed to the cabin, she looked down to see Deanna frantically trying to get a hold on the smooth side of the boat.

'I can't swim!' Deanna shouted.

'Yes,' Abby said. 'I know.'

She walked into the cabin and started the engine. She moved the boat out of Deanna's reach, then waited and watched as Deanna's blond head bobbed like a beacon through the fog. When Deanna finally sank and didn't resurface, Abby pushed the throttle forward and headed for shore.

Thursday, August 20

Abby parked at the top of the driveway and she rubbed her hands over her face. God, she was so sick of playing the distraught wife. How much longer did she have to do this? The last week had seemed endless. Pretending to look up expectantly each time the bells chimed over the gallery door. Murmuring 'I'm sure he will' whenever someone reassured her that her missing husband would come home soon. Enduring Zack's constant, mooning 'I'm here for you' glances.

It hadn't taken long for the police to discover that her missing husband had been renting a cottage outside town for his mistress, who was, conveniently, also missing. A quick check of their shared bank accounts showed that Gregory had slowly drained out nearly ten thousand dollars over the last month. That had been Abby's idea, passed through Deanna to Gregory's ear. As Deanna had warned Gregory, he couldn't be seen dipping into the money right after his wife's murder. Better to siphon some out early so they'd have celebration cash during the mourning period. Now, with a missing husband, a missing mistress and missing money, it didn't take a genius to realize Gregory had cut his losses and left. Too bad all their assets were jointly held, meaning his abandoned wife could now use them as she wished. She even had the ten grand in cash Deanna had squirrelled away for them.