Perfect Victim (Nadia Stafford 3.6)

"Yes."

"Then you know that all it takes . . ." He lifted his foot and made a motion to bring it down on the wire.

"Stop!"

He kept his foot poised above the wire.

"You're going to let me leave," he said. "I'm going to step over this and continue down the ladder, and you're going to let me walk away. Otherwise"--he waggled his foot--"I've got nothing to lose, do I?"

"You aren't going to do that, Victor," Howard said. "You've got two kids who deserve to know why you did this."

Victor let out a bitter laugh. "Why I did what? I didn't mean to kill anyone. I sent that damned package to Cherise to get her out of my life. I wasn't stupid--I knew she was just looking for a free ride. So was I. But suddenly, my ride wasn't free anymore. She wanted a ring. So I thought I'd kill two birds with one stone. Spook her and frame Sheila. Only the damned thing went off and destroyed the evidence that Sheila did it. So I tried again with that lawyer. That time, I was even more careful. I put the device in the grill, and then I was going to call in an anonymous tip, but that kid opened the grill before I could."

"That kid was a sixteen-year-old girl," I said. "Who you murdered."

"I didn't kill her. The bomb did. She opened the grill, and no one was supposed to do that. But she did, and again, boom. Sheila's hair? Gone."

"You--" I began, barely able to get the word out.

"Okay," Howard cut in. "You didn't mean to kill anyone. I get that. So, yes, I'm going to let you leave." He turned to me. "Stand down, Nancy."

I clenched my teeth. I knew Howard was right. Just lower my gun, let Victor walk away and then give chase. I could catch him easily enough. Still, after what he just said, it took everything in me to force my gun down, inch by inch.

"She's going to shoot me," Victor said, and he sounded so much like a petulant child that I really did want to prove him right.

I holstered my gun instead and said, "Go on."

He lowered his foot over the wire. His eyes never left mine. I stayed as calm as I could, my hand away from my gun, giving him no reason to do anything except leave. He put one foot down. Then he brought the other over and placed it on the first rung. He lowered himself down one rung . . . and stopped.

"You're going to come after me," he said, still watching me.

"Vic?" Howard said. "I've got this. You're fine."

"I want her gun." He glanced at Howard. "Yours, too. Give me the guns, and I'll leave."

"Victor . . ." Howard began.

"Sure," I said. "He can have my gun. I get the bullets. He gets the gun."

"Fine," Howard said. He took out his weapon.

I unholstered mine and started opening the chamber. And then we heard a sound. The distant wail of police sirens.

Victor looked at me. The son of a bitch looked right at me and then reached for the tripwire.

I slapped the chamber and aimed at his forehead.

"Stop," I said.

He kept reaching. Kept looking right at me and kept reaching. I heard Howard shouting, saw him start to lunge and then realize he couldn't, that the wire was between them, and he could not get to Victor without setting off the bomb.

"Stop!" Howard said. "Think of your kids. Chris and Andi. Think about them."

"Oh, but I am," Victor said. "I'm thinking of how no one will ever know exactly what happened here. No evidence. No witnesses. Just a tragic misunderstanding. An innocent man, railroaded by some bitch who roared in here, thinking she could solve a crime."

"This isn't about Nancy. I'm the one who--"

"You're the one who couldn't resist a pretty face, Howard. You never could. None of us can, really. She talked you into this, against your better judgment, and look what happened." His eyes held mine. "Boom."