Her Last Word

Tears she’d held back for so long filled her eyes. “You’re right. I don’t deserve her forgiveness, or yours.”

He shook his head, seemingly unmoved by her tears. “And you could have nailed Hayward fourteen years ago, but you chickened out. Do you have any backbone?”

“I wasn’t sure it was him.”

“It didn’t matter! You blew it! Everyone knew it was him.” He shook his head again. “He’s escaped punishment for fourteen years while Gina rotted in the cold ground.”

“You have to understand I wasn’t covering for him.”

“That was Jennifer’s and Erika’s fault, wasn’t it? They supplied the booze and drugs.”

“How did you know that?”

“Erika and I got to be good friends. She was so lonely in her big house and so tired of hiding behind walls. I approached her when she came out of yoga one day and asked to speak to her. I told her I was writing a book. She didn’t want to at first, so I made sure she found out about her husband’s affair. When I came back the next week, she agreed, and our meetings became regular. She was so ready to unburden herself and stick it to her husband.”

“What about Blackstone and Crowley? They’re Hayward’s friends. They covered for him all these years.”

“So did Hayward’s mother. She lied for him, too.”

“Are you going after them as well? How many people are you going to kill?”

“You’re the last.”

“Who else have you killed?”

“Just know I have punished the guilty.”

Sharing anything with Marcus now was a calculated risk. But she had to prove her worth to him to stay alive and buy time. “Adler told me something you don’t know.”

He looked amused.

“When they found Gina, they found another girl. She was buried in a grave near Gina.”

Marcus shook his head. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not. Adler spotted the shallow grave from a tree stand. They excavated it and found another girl about Gina’s age.”

Marcus shook his head. “Hayward killed another girl?”

“That’s what the cops think.”

He curled his fingers into a fist and pressed it to his temple. “Does his deal with the Commonwealth Attorney cover that murder?”

“No.”

“So he’s going to be punished?” He sounded hopeful and happy.

“Yes.” She leaned forward. “Neither Gina nor the other girl would have been found if I hadn’t come back.”

“It wasn’t your return that led to Gina’s discovery. It was my work. Killing Jennifer and Erika reopened Gina’s case, not your bullshit podcast project.”

She smiled. “It still makes us a team.”

“We’re not a team.”

She knew she was pressing, and he could turn on her in an instant. “Yes, we are. We’ve both wanted the same thing for fourteen years. We’re the only two people who did something about finding her.”

Anger flared in his eyes, and he crossed the room and hit her hard across the face. Pain rocketed through her head, and she could taste blood.

He’d raised his hand to strike her again when a phone rang. He pulled her phone from his pocket. “Detective Adler is calling you again. Should I text him back and tell him not to worry? Maybe I should say our interview is going long?”

“He will find you.”

“Maybe. I’m ready for that.”

When he dropped his gaze to send the text, she stepped toward him. “We can work together,” she said. “You can interview me. I can tell you all about that night. I can tell you about Gina’s hopes and fears.”

“I don’t need anyone’s help.”

“There’s no one else alive who can confirm your findings. Why would you want to burn your ultimate source?”

A loud pounding echoed through the house. It sounded like someone was beating on the front door. Oh God, it had to be Adler. Marcus had told him where to find her.

“It’s Adler.” She moistened her lips. “Send him away so we can talk. It’s been fourteen years, and I haven’t told my story.”

Again, he studied her. He touched the blood on her lip and gently brushed it away. “In the right light you look like her.”

She raised her chin. “Thank you. She was so pretty.”

He rubbed her blood between his thumb and index finger. “You aren’t her.”

“I know.”

The pounding upstairs grew louder.

“Get rid of them,” she said. “We need more time.”

He wiped the blood on his pant leg. “No, that’s the thing, Kaitlin. I’ve been expecting them.” He crossed the room, opened the door, and closed it behind him.

Marcus’s black truck was parked at the beginning of the long driveway that led to a one-story ranch home situated in the center of a large lot surrounded by a ribbon of woods. The lawn nearer the house was neat and the hedges trimmed, but all the shades in the house were drawn.

Adler called Kaitlin’s number, but it went to voicemail. He pounded on the door as Quinn stood to the side, her hand on her weapon. “He’s here,” he said. “The truck is in the driveway. And Kaitlin sent the text. She wouldn’t ignore my calls now.”

“That’s assuming she sent the text,” Quinn said. “Kaitlin was lured into a trap with a text. You really think he brought her to his home?”

He drew his weapon. “Why not? The closest house is a hundred yards away. There are woods around the lot. He has privacy.”

“We’re assuming she’s still alive,” Quinn said carefully.

That thought had also occurred to him, but he’d chased it away. “I’m betting on Kaitlin. She’s resourceful, and she’s found a reason for him to keep her alive.”

“He already tried to kill her once. Why bother with bringing her here and then telling you what he’s doing?”

“I don’t know. Keep pounding on the door. I’m going around back.”

The flashing lights of four police cars pulled into the driveway and raced toward them.

Adler’s phone rang. It was Logan. “What do you have?”

“Marcus’s wife left him seven months ago. She packed up their kid and moved back to her mother’s in Maryland.”

“That’s the trigger,” Adler said.

“It’s enough to send a sane man over the edge,” Logan said. “The guy’s written hundreds of articles, not only about cold cases, but he seemed particularly obsessed with how the v

ictims died.”

“Roger that,” Adler said.

“Jesus, man, be careful.”

“Right.” He ended the call. “I’m not waiting,” Adler said.

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going around the back to see if there’s another entrance. You and the uniforms break the front door down.”

As Quinn pounded on the door, he ran around the side of the house to a back door leading onto a screened porch. To the right was a set of freshly painted cellar doors.

He looked up and saw Marcus standing by the kitchen window. The man’s expression was calm, too calm. He wasn’t the least bit surprised to see Adler or the growing number of cops in his yard. This felt like a trap, just like the one the arsonist set.

Adler leveled his weapon, but Marcus laughed as he regarded him. He looked confident, almost triumphant as he watched the cop cars arriving. And then he raised a gun to his own head. In one second Adler tensed, shouted for him to put the gun down. And in the next instant, Marcus fired. His head snapped as the bullet cut through it, and blood sprayed the wall. His body went limp, and he dropped out of sight.

Adler’s gut clenched. None of this felt right. Why take Kaitlin, text him, and then just kill himself? Again, he smelled a trap.

He called Quinn. “Marcus shot himself.”

“I heard the gunshot. Are you sure?”

“I saw him drop. The suspect is down. I repeat he is down.”

“We’re going in the front door.”

He heard the front doorframe crack and then slam open. “I’m going through the cellar doors.”

Adler threw back the doors and immediately was hit with the thick scent of gasoline. Weapon drawn and the phone still connected in his hand, he moved down the side cellar staircase. Instantly he spotted the drums and the wires that led into them. On top of them was a digital clock ticking down. Thirty seconds remained. Marcus had wired the house to explode. Adler realized this was Marcus’s last stand.

Kaitlin pushed through a door and looked up at him. He saw the fear etched in her features as he ran toward her and grabbed her arm.

Time stopped, and each second played out agonizingly slow.