The Hangman (The Forgotten Files 3)

“Basically, yes.” He turned to get busy.

She pushed the knife against her ropes. “You think you’ll get away with this?”

“The Hangman will retire. Or perhaps find a new place to play. You even said it yourself that the Church Hill neighbor saw Marcus Delany with Rita. He will vanish after tonight, and the cops can spend their time chasing him.”

She pulled hard against the ropes. Frayed threads broke, and her hand, scraped and bloodied, slipped free. She pulled the other free and waited as he moved toward her. If he wanted to string her up, he’d have to get close. Heart hammering in her chest, she watched as he readied to close the distance between them.

She lunged toward him.

“Where is she, Andrews?” Novak demanded.

“Still on the property, as is her vehicle.”

Novak gunned the engine, arriving at Delany’s seconds later. He parked behind Julia’s car, killed the lights, and shut off his vehicle. Out of the SUV he stripped off his jacket and spied the darkened house. He called Andrews. “Her vehicle is here. Can you pinpoint her location?”

“Only within a hundred feet of the property. Not a specific building. How long before backup arrives?”

“Less than a minute or two, but I’m not waiting. I’m moving in toward the main house now.”

“Understood.”

As he approached the main house, he could see there were no lights on. To the right and behind it was a large garage. Lights glowed from the window. Adrenaline pumped, narrowing his focus. Weapon in hand, he approached the garage, praying Julia was still alive. When he found her, he’d give her hell for being such a cowboy. “Jesus, Julia, you have got to be okay.”

He was less than a few feet away when he heard a scream.

Julia slashed her buckle knife across his eye and face, cutting into soft flesh. Blood gushed from the wound.

“Bitch!” he screamed as he cupped his hand to his eye.

She lowered her head and drove her body into Unger’s chest. The unexpected blow caught him off guard, and he hit the concrete floor hard. But he immediately rolled to his side and righted himself. His gaze burned with fury as he growled.

“I’m going to string you up and make sure it takes hours for you to die.”

She pushed past the pain in her body and gripped the knife at her side. “You’re not stringing me up like your other victims.”

When the gunshot echoed in the garage, she froze, fearing Unger had fired at her. She stared at her attacker. His cool detachment had been replaced by anger. Seconds slowed. Time almost stopped.

As the rush of adrenaline ebbed, she realized she’d not been hit. It was Unger who’d been shot. He staggered back, a bloom of blood growing quickly on his chest. He drew in a ragged breath and raised his hand to his chest. He stared at his bloodstained fingertips and looked as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

He raised his gaze and looked past her. His face twisted into a snarl, and he lunged forward. Another shot followed from behind her, hitting him again. He fell back to the ground.

She couldn’t pull her attention from Unger’s body, which lay sprawled on the floor. Her heartbeat drummed in her ears, and her vision narrowed.

“Julia!” The sound of Novak’s voice snapped her back to the present. “Are you okay?”

“No.” Julia sucked in a breath as her vision cleared. Her hands were trembling as adrenaline surged in her body again. Sweat dampened her shirt.

Novak pushed past her, gun still drawn, and rushed up to Unger, his weapon pointed at the man. He checked for a pulse.

“Is he dead?” she asked.

“No pulse.” Novak rolled Unger onto his belly and handcuffed him.

He turned to her. “Julia, are you hurt?”

Her mouth was dry, her head pounding. “Nothing I won’t survive. Is he dead?”

“Yes.”

Her adrenaline crashed, and tears clogged her throat. “Good.”

Gently he touched her cheek. “You are not okay.”

She managed a shaky nod. Novak had been her partner on this case, her team, and he’d saved her. Swells of gratitude and relief collided. “Scrapes and bruises.”

He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close. “You did it, Julia. Your father would be proud.”

She leaned into him, burying her face in his chest, inhaling his scent. All the years of wondering about her father and living under his shadow and the Hangman’s were over. She’d seen it through. “I got him.”

EPILOGUE

Thursday, December 21, 8:00 p.m.

The holiday rush at the bar commenced in early December. People busy with family and festivities came to Billy’s for drinks and a little conversation before heading back into the holiday storm, as Julia called it. She always requested the holiday shift. It was tradition. It was home.

Her bruises had faded, as had the rope burns on her wrists. She’d tried to argue she was fit for duty, but her boss had ordered her to take time to decompress. “I don’t want to see you until after January 1,” he’d said.

The downtime had proved to be irritating. She’d visited with Ken a couple of times. Wendy had been guarded at first, but Julia assured her she wouldn’t press for an investigation into Wendy’s handling of the evidence. Wendy and Ken needed each other now, so she was willing to leave everything associated with the Hangman in the past.

Julia had tried to take it easy, but finally the vacation was too much and she’d grabbed an apron and moved behind Cindy’s bar. Her aunt had not been happy, but Julia convinced her she’d go mad if she binge-watched another television series.

Julia and Novak had been seeing each other regularly over the last six weeks. He’d encouraged her to leave a toothbrush and several of her things at his house, and when they weren’t together, they spoke daily. It was peaceful. The two of them were in their own little world.

A week ago, he’d delivered unexpected news. Benny Santiago had been knifed to death two days after arriving in prison. She’d have been lying if she said she’d not felt relief. He was one less demon to worry about.

When Bella came home for Thanksgiving, Julia had made herself scarce, letting the two enjoy their holiday. And now as Christmas loomed and Novak’s daughter had returned, she’d retreated again. Again, she told Novak to enjoy his kid and to not worry about her. They’d find each other again in January after the New Year. Julia had plenty to do with helping Cindy behind the bar.

“Why are you here?” Cindy asked as she straightened the red Santa hat perched on her head.

Julia grabbed a couple of empty tumblers from the shelf and filled each with two fingers of bourbon. “I’m helping you, remember? The holidays get crazy, and your regular help always flakes.”

“Thought yo

u’d be with your man.”

“He’s not my man, Cindy. And his daughter is home from college. It’s their family time.”

“And they can’t include you? I gave ’em a pass at Thanksgiving, but not now.”

“I didn’t give him the chance to ask. Told him I was busy and working here.”

“I can judge men pretty well. Novak is a good man, and you’re important to him. You should be with him.”

“I’m the chick he dates. And that’s okay.”

Cindy shook her head. “Why do you still keep your distance?”

“I’m not keeping my distance.”

“You’re just hedging your bets because you think he’ll leave like Jim.”

“I’m not.”

“Then why aren’t you together now?”

Julia couldn’t give her a good answer. “Cindy, the guy wants to spend time with Bella. I can’t begrudge that. I’d have loved it if Jim had wanted to spend a holiday with me.”

Julia served up the two drinks, wiped down the bar, and refilled the peanut bowls. She liked the familiarity of the bar. It was easy to lose herself in the mundane work and take her time processing what had happened only six weeks earlier.

Nate Unger had created the Hangman when Alexi Popov had told him to destroy Detective Jim Vargas. Popov didn’t want Jim to simply die; he wanted Jim’s family and life stripped from him, his reputation ruined. Rita had also been enlisted. Her job was to seduce Jim and turn his personal life upside down. When the cops searched Unger’s country house, they’d found a collection of videos that had been made during the hangings. In several instances, Unger panned the camera around the warehouse and captured Rita standing in the back, smiling. Waving.

Andrews dug into Unger’s bank accounts and discovered he’d been paid over $1 million for his Hangman work. Most of the money had been wired into numerous small accounts. Judging by the account balances, he’d not spent much money over the years. He never really cared about it. It was the one truth he told Julia.

Unger had slipped into the Hangman persona as easily as he had his undercover identities. He lost himself in the role, became the person, and this time discovered he liked the monster.