Warren let out a wail of agony and curled in on himself right there on the floor.
Gray heaved a breath and rubbed at his chest, feeling like someone had punched the air out of his lungs.
“You okay?” Darius was watching him.
Gray nodded and retrieved the strip of tape he’d left in the doorway.
Once Warren’s mouth was taped shut, they dragged the vile monster into the living room. They left him on the floor, and Gray gave Darius a nod. There was no point in waiting. There could only be one outcome, and Gray had run out of questions. Or rather, he knew he wouldn’t get intelligence from someone as damaged and twisted as Chester Warren.
Darius’s expression was grim as he bent down and planted a knee on Warren’s chest. Then he pushed his hand sideways across Warren’s taped mouth and pinched his nose shut.
Gray rushed forward to hold Warren in place and keep him from thrashing.
“I’ve never particularly enjoyed watching the light fade from someone’s eyes,” Darius told Warren quietly. “Until now.”
Gray watched too. He witnessed the panic in Chester’s bulging eyes and how it slowly gave way to despair that flickered like a dying flame. His eyes rolled, tears trickled down, and his body jerked.
“The fire has to start right here.” Darius held on, even as Warren stilled. “If it starts elsewhere, the likelier cause of death will be smoke inhalation.” And they wouldn’t find many traces of that in Warren’s lungs… “We’ll make sure to drench him thoroughly. He should be burnt to a crisp.”
Gray eased back on his heels and peered around them. Every time Darius shared bits and pieces of his analytical mind, Gray’s eyes opened another millimeter. He studied the interior of the house and didn’t see a problem in here. Maybe the exterior wouldn’t get very damaged, despite its bad condition; it was still stucco, which wouldn’t burn. But the inside…the wallpaper, the wood paneling, the furniture… They sat in a virtual tinderbox.
He remembered when they renovated the inn back home too. They had to change the insulation. Gray doubted anything in this house was less than twenty years old, meaning the insulation was probably flammable too.
Darius felt Warren’s pulse and checked his watch. “Time of death… Not a minute too soon.” Then he mirrored Gray’s position and sat back on his heels. “You said Jackie wanted them both dead before he came into the house again?”
Gray nodded. “Why? Does it mess with the plan?”
“Not really, but we’ll change the story a little.” Darius stood up and patted his pockets. “If we can’t let Buck burn alive, we’ll make it look like Warren shot him.”
Gray frowned and followed him out onto the porch, where Darius lit up a smoke and took a drag. “Would he tape his brother to a chair if he was just gonna shoot him?”
Darius’s mouth twitched, his cigarette dangling at the corner. “I don’t reckon the detectives will expect rhyme or reason from a sick fuck like Warren.”
Valid argument, Gray figured. And once the investigators had mapped out Warren’s life, a sick fuck was exactly what they’d find.
“It’s kinda exhausting having to think about all this,” Gray admitted.
Darius let out a soft laugh and clapped Gray’s shoulder. “Good thing we’re not turning this into a career for you, ’cause taking a million scenarios into consideration is half the job.”
Gray smiled ruefully and looked down at the floorboards of the small porch. Fuck, this place was a deathtrap falling apart. Part of the poorly constructed porch had been attacked by termites. Darius had made a comment about it earlier. It took an idiot to build with wood in the desert. Gray was more concerned about the rusty nails poking out here and there.
“How are you coping with everything?” Darius stubbed out his smoke and pocketed the end. “You seem to be handling things well.”
Gray thought back on a lecture he’d been to in Seattle once. As part of research for a paper, he’d listened for two hours as an ex-convict, a police officer, and a former doctor spoke of the experience of taking a life. For the doctor, it had been an accident. For the police officer, it’d been during a robbery. For the ex-convict…well. But they all talked about guilt and a heavy conscience, something Gray hadn’t questioned back then. Because what the fuck did he know at that time? Now was different.
“My conscience is clear,” he said. “That’s what matters. I can process the rest when I get home.”
Maybe one had to be pushed to the extremes like Gray had—or seen enough evils in the world like Darius had… Either way, there would be no lost sleep over the lives they’d taken.
“Good. I’m proud of you.” Darius pressed a kiss to the side of Gray’s head on his way back inside. “Can you check the highway? Let me know when the road’s empty, and I’ll end Buck with his own gun.”