Twisted

that she’d been bound after the fire, Rich had explained, sounding like a carpenter imparting a construction tip to a homeowner.
    It had all been planned for months, her ex-husband was smugly pleased to tell her. As soon as he’d learned that Susan’s father had died, he started making plans to get even with her—for her “disobedience” when they were married and then for divorcing him. So he’d hired Rich Musgrave to work his way into her life and wait for an opportunity to kill her.
    Rich had picked her up at a shopping mall a few weeks ago and they’d hit it off at once. They’d had a lot in common, it seemed—though Susan realized now that he’d merely been fed information about her from Anthony to make it seem like they were soul mates. Planning the killing itself was tough; Susan led a very busy life and she was rarely alone. But Rich learned that she was taking today off. He suggested they meet in Jersey and go to the malls. Then he’d suggest driving to an inn for lunch. But they’d never make it that far. He’d kill her and dump her body in the flats.
    But she’d called Rich this morning, asking him ifhe’d drive; she’d fallen and hurt her knee. He’d be happy to. . . . Then he’d called Anthony and they’d decided that they could still go ahead with the plan. This worked out even better, in fact, because it turned out that Susan had left the note and shopping list for her daughter on the entryway table after all. When he picked her up that morning he’d pocketed the note and list and slipped them into her purse—to be buried with her—so there’d be no trace of him. Rich had also made sure her cell phone was off so she couldn’t call for help if she saw what he was up to.
    Then they’d run a few errands and headed toward Jersey.
    But it hadn’t worked out as planned. Carly had gone to the police and, to Anthony’s shock, they’d tracked down Rich’s car. Her ex had called Rich from Lincoln Rhyme’s apartment, pretending to be talking to a business associate about missing an office party; in fact, he was alerting Rich that the police were after him. Susan remembered him taking a call in the car and seeming uneasy with whatever news he was receiving. “What? You’re shitting me!” (Rough edges, yep, she’d thought at the time.) Ten minutes later that red-haired cop, Amelia, and the state trooper had pulled them over.
    After that incident Rich had been reluctant to proceed with the murder. But Anthony had coldly insisted they go ahead. Rich finally agreed when Anthony said they’d make the death look like an accident—and when he promised that after Susan died and Carly’d inherited a couple of milliondollars, Anthony would make certain Rich got some of that.
    “You son of a bitch! You leave her alone!”
    Anthony ignored his ex-wife. He was amused. “So she just called you now?”
    “Yeah,” Rich said. “Hit ‘redial,’ I guess. Pretty fucking smart.”
    “Damn,” Anthony said, shaking his head.
    “Good thing I was the last person she called. Not Pizza Hut.”
    Anthony said to Susan, “Nice thought. But Rich was coming back anyway. He was parked up the street, waiting for Carly to leave.”
    “Please . . . don’t do this.”
    Anthony poured the kerosene on the couch.
    “No, no, no . . .”
    He stood back and watched her, enjoying her terror.
    But through her tears of panic Susan saw that Rich Musgrave was frowning. He shook his head. “Can’t do it, man,” he said to Anthony as he stared at Susan’s tearful face.
    Anthony looked up, frowning. Was his friend having pangs of guilt?
    Help me, please, she begged Rich silently.
    “Whatta you mean?” Anthony asked.
    “You can’t burn somebody to death. That’s way harsh. . . . We have to kill her first.”
    Susan gasped.
    “But the police’ll know it’s not an accident.”
    “No, no, I’ll just—” He held his hand to his own throat. “You know. After the fire they won’t have a clue she was strangled.”
    Anthony shrugged. “Okay.” He nodded to Rich, who stepped up behind her, as Anthony poured the rest of the liquid around Susan.
    “Oh, no, Anthony, don’t! Please . . . God, no . . .”
    Her words were choked off as she felt Rich’s huge hands close around her neck, felt them tightening.
    As she began to die, a roaring filled her ears, then blackness. Finally huge bursts of light speckled her vision. Brighter and brighter.
    What were the flashes? she wondered,