Beautiful Maids All in a Row (26 page)

Luke's brow furrowed. “Know what?”

“You didn't see it?” I asked in disbelief.

“See what?”

“In there…It didn't remind you of anything?”

He shook his head. “I don't know what you're—”

“Diana was shot as she was lying face up on the floor. Mooney stood over her and shot her dead center in the forehead.”

“So?”

“Mooney shot himself on the right side of the head just above the ear. It was uncanny.” No sparks of recognition went off. “Do I have to spell it out for you?”

He looked as if I were speaking in another language. Then his expression changed from confusion to enlightenment. “Iris, you don't think—”

“This was my punishment,” I stated as a plain fact. “I got the upper hand, and he had to punish me for it.”

“It's a coincidence. There are only so many kill shots a person has.”

“He could have shot her in the chest and eaten the gun, but he didn't. He shot her
exactly
as I shot Meriwether, and then he shot himself the way Hayden went. When I walked into that house, I felt like I was transported back two years. How could you not see it?”

“I was a little distracted, Iris. I barely had time to assess the scene before you went nuts. You know he can have you arrested, don't you?”

“He deserved it.”

“You're probably right, but—”

“
Probably?
Of course I'm right! His death toll has just risen to eight, and the fucker's still not behind bars!”

“Mooney shot Diana,” he said, “and then killed himself.”

“Under Shepherd's orders!”

“You think Shepherd told Mooney to shoot himself and Mooney just blindly acquiesced?” Luke asked incredulously. “Mooney didn't strike me as the type of guy who'd agree to something like that.”

“He agreed to lie.”

“Lying and
killing yourself
are two very different things, Iris.”

“He was his bodyguard, Luke. He was willing to take a bullet for Shepherd, and that's exactly what he did.”

“Or maybe you're just missing the obvious. Maybe Shepherd's telling the truth.”

My jaw dropped. “
What?
You can't honestly believe that! Not after—”

“Iris, the man confessed! He just shot a woman to death!”

“Under Shepherd's orders!”

“Iris, look at the facts. Mooney has no alibi, he has access to the drugs, he met all the women, and he's a former cop.”

“The Woodsman is a doctor.”

“According to you.”

“Fuck you!”

Luke grabbed me by the shoulders. “Iris, maybe you wanted so much to be right, you focused all your energy on someone who fit what
you
thought this guy was.”

“You did too.”

“Because you did,” he admitted.

“What about Diana's confession?” I asked. “What about what happened in the interrogation room? You saw him!”

“I saw you push and push and use every psychological trick in the book. You hounded them. You showed Diana disgusting pictures and threatened to arrest her. You accused Shepherd of
incest.
I would have flown into a rage too.”

“I don't believe this,” I said with a wry chuckle. I shrugged his hands off my shoulders. “And what about the phone calls? Let me guess, I just
imagined
those?”

“No, but maybe someone was just having fun with you.”

“Fuck you.” I jumped out of the car and started up the gravel driveway, shaking my head and hugging myself. I couldn't believe this.

I heard his running footsteps coming behind me. “Iris, wait…”

I spun around. “Are you so desperate to close this case you'd let a guilty man go free?”

“I'm not saying he's innocent. I'm just saying we have another suspect to investigate. I want justice for those women just as much as you do.”

“You are playing right into his hands! Don't you see that?”

“It is my job to look at the facts, all the evidence, and right now they're pointing to Henry Mooney. That can change in an instant. I'm just playing devil's advocate here. It's certainly possible—”

“Agent Hudson!” Clarkson called out from the command post, holding up a phone. “Agents found something in Mooney's apartment.”

Luke took off at a brisk jog, and I followed behind at a leisurely pace. I really had no desire to hear this. I knew it was the final nail in the coffin. Clarkson eyed me as I approached. He was probably afraid I'd go off again, and he'd be the one bleeding this time.

Luke listened. “That's great,” he said. “Now just make sure you bag it…Keep looking…Well, I don't think that's fair…She…Fine, I'll tell her.” He hung up.

“Well?” Clarkson asked.

Luke glanced at me. “They found the hearts.”

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
Son of a bitch.
“Of course they did.”

“Where?” Clarkson asked.

“Mooney's bedside table,” Luke said. “Apparently he dried them. The forensics guys almost mistook them for prunes.”

“They find anything else?” Clarkson asked.

“Ropes, boots, and a scalpel in a bag in the back of his closet.”

“So it's him,” Clarkson declared with a laugh. “It's really him. We did it! We caught him!”

“Congratulations,” I said snidely.

Both Clarkson and Luke eyed me warily.

“Reggie's on his way down,” Luke said. “He, um…” Luke cleared his throat. “He wants you off the scene immediately.”

“What?”

“Shepherd called Beaton the second you left, and he called Reggie,” Luke said. “Beaton's on his way now too. It's just better if you're not here.”

I scoffed. “Fine, I'm leaving.”

“We'll have someone take you to the hospital,” Luke said. “Get your hand examined.”

“Whatever.”

I walked back the way I came, away from all the death. I was halfway to the car when I noticed that the gravel under my feet crackled like hot coals on a fire. With each step the noise grew louder and louder until it was all-consuming. My chest suddenly tightened like someone was sitting on it. I knew what was coming, which made the panic even worse. I tried to draw breath in but my airway wouldn't open. I couldn't breathe. I gasped for air but none entered. The world spun like a record only much faster, the trees passing me over and over again. If I didn't stop spinning, I thought I'd throw up. My head just wanted to float away to the clouds like a balloon. I let it.

Sweet oblivion, take me away.

“Hayden?” I called through the empty house.

I got no answer from the living room. I was sure I heard something in there, a door opening or something. Probably just pre-moving jitters. I finished wrapping up the last vase in bubble wrap and set it in the box. That was the end of it. We were now officially done packing. The moving van was coming at eight tomorrow morning for everything.
Grafton, North Carolina, look out. The doctors Sage are coming for ya.

We were doing it. We were
actually
doing it. We'd talked about it for so long, but we were finally doing it. Who cared if I was leaving Behavioral Analysis, which I'd been working my whole life toward, to go back to interviewing farmers who'd bought too much fertilizer? He was worth it. No doubts on that front. Not anymore. I just hoped I fit in. Playing the role of small-town doctor's wife, baking cookies and going to garden parties, was not in my wheelhouse. But I'd learn. And hell, it'd be nice to go to a party where everyone wasn't packing heat. I would be the perfect wife, I would. And then the perfect mother. I'd already chucked my birth control out a week before. For all I knew, I was pregnant already. That thought brought a smile to my face. I—

The creak of the floorboards brought me out of my daydream. It couldn't be Luke. He wouldn't come in without knocking, if he was coming at all. That left…A sweet smile crossed my face. “That didn't take long at all,” I said, my back still to the door. “I hope you didn't spend too much. We can barely afford water now…”

I spun around expecting to find my handsome husband with champagne in hand, but instead found a six-foot monster with that sly grin that cost seven little girls their lives filling the doorway. But that wasn't what stopped my breath. The huge hunting knife in his hand did.

I stood paralyzed for a second, just staring at him in shock. He was not supposed to be here. He'd escaped to Mexico—I was sure of it. A million thoughts shot through my brain in a second. The knife. My training. My gun. Grafton. Hayden. Luke. Fight. Flight.
Fight!
My Glock was in the box nearest the bed, and I lunged for it. I didn't reach it in time. He charged at me like lightning, on one side of the room one second and the next, grabbing my hair and tossing me to the hardwood floor. I was stunned for a moment as my head hit, all my training lost in the depths of my shocked brain. He used this moment to pounce.

The knife plunged into my abdomen with such force I was sure it came out on the other side. The pain was unimaginable, all-consuming, like a red-hot poker being shoved inside me. I cried out, but my attacker laughed at my pain. He'd been waiting for this moment. He'd been planning this since I slapped the cuffs on him. The month he'd spent in jail awaiting trial gave him plenty of time to perfect his plan, and now that the moment was here, he reveled in it. His cold blue eyes danced and sang with triumph. His shrill, maniacal laugh rang out in my ears. He thought he'd won.

Rage filled me with each laugh, pushing away all remnants of pain. All sound faded away, leaving nothing but the pounding of my still beating heart. Something snapped inside me like nothing I'd ever felt before. I chose to live.

The Rosetta Ripper knelt beside me, leaving his most sensitive area exposed. I kicked with all my might, sending his balls up into his throat. With a gasp, he fell to the floor beside me, hitting his head on the edge of the bench in front of my bed. His eyes didn't open. Pushing myself up on weak arms, I managed to get to my feet. I staggered and swayed to the bathroom a few feet away, clicking the lock in place.

I fell against the door and slid down it, feeling a sharp pain when I hit the floor. The knife was still in me. Looking down at it, my blood seeping down my leg and pooling on the black and white tile floor I'd spent an entire afternoon scrubbing, I couldn't help but laugh. I looked like an idiot in a horror movie and was acting like one, too. I laughed hysterically for so long tears started, and suddenly I was crying. The shock was wearing off. Knowing enough not to pull the knife out, I grabbed a hanging towel and pressed it against my wound. The blood wasn't black, so I knew he'd missed my liver. Relief washed over me, then darkness. How much time passed, I don't know. Minutes, I found out later. Then all I knew was that a gunshot pulled me out of the abyss. My eyes flew open to find a bullet hole in the door.

“Ballard,” the monster called to me from the other side of the door in his Texas twang. “You alive in there, girl? Hope so. You have five seconds to get your sweet ass out here, girl. We ain't done yet.”

“Go away,” I whispered unevenly. “Go away.”

“There's someone out here that wants to see you,” he said in a singsong voice. “I'll give you a hint. He's got black hair, and he's holding some cheap-ass champagne.”

No.
No.

“Hayden?” I shouted.

“Iris,” Hayden said, his voice breaking. “He has a gun. Please—”

I didn't check him for other weapons. I should have checked him for other weapons.
Oh, God.

“Ten seconds, girl, or say bye-bye hubby,” Meriwether said.

I couldn't stand; I couldn't move. He had my Hayden out there, I had to move. But if I went out there, he'd kill me. I didn't want to die; I wasn't ready yet. I wanted to move to North Carolina and have babies. I was too young to die. I couldn't go out there.

“Ballard, you know I'll shoot him. Get out here
now
!”

Hayden. I had to save Hayden. But…I had to. With what little strength I had, I grabbed the wooden hilt of the knife, pulling the metal out of me as fast as I could. It hurt more coming out than going in. How I didn't scream I don't know. Maybe I did. “I'm coming out.”

With what little strength I had, I moved my legs, but I slipped in my own blood and fell again. I grabbed hold of the door handle and pulled myself up. My hands shook so badly I could barely unlock the door. But I did.

I stepped into hell.

They stood ten feet away in the doorway, my husband in front of the monster with a gun I recognized as mine held right above the ear that I'd nibbled many a time. The monster stood behind him, an odd grin on his face. I met my husband's eyes, and for a fleeting moment, we were the only two people in the world. He gazed at me like the first time he saw me, like I was the most beautiful creature to ever grace this world. Our terror faded away, and the trembling stopped. The world slowed to a standstill and all I could see were his beautiful eyes saying, “I love—”

A deafening bang and flash of white light jolted me back to reality. The left side of my husband's head exploded in a tapestry of red and white against our freshly painted white wall. As he fell to the floor, his eyes never moved from mine. That look of love never left them, not even in death.

I didn't cry. I didn't scream. I stood there gazing at my husband's body on our floor, his eyes still upon me. I didn't even see the monster approach. I didn't register his presence until his sour breath was on my face. A once tan face was now covered with red war paint. My husband's blood dripped down his chin onto the floor. The bastard didn't seem to notice. He didn't care. All that mattered now was us.

He pressed the gun to my forehead. It was still hot from the last firing and burnt my skin. I didn't flinch. I was beyond pain. I was beyond everything. He smiled again, eyes still dancing with victory. I wiped that smile right off his face. The knife came out of its hiding spot in my robe, and I just slid it into his chest as if the hole were already there, waiting to be filled.
Fucker.
The look of surprise on his face almost made me laugh. He howled in pain so loud the dogs next door joined in. I pushed the knife to the hilt.

The gun dropped to the floor beneath us.

Warm blood spurted out of the hole onto my hands as he shrieked. As I let go of the slick handle, he fell to the floor. I stood over him, watching the life trickle out of him. The shrieks gave way to coughs. Each one brought out more blood than the last. His lungs were filling with blood.
Good.

I bent down to get closer to him, and he met my eyes. Gone was the cockiness of victory; only pain and intense terror remained. I picked up the discarded gun, examining it. Government-issue Glock 22 in .40 S&W caliber. The gun that killed my husband. Mine. My gun. My protection from the monsters that wreaked havoc on the world. Only fitting that it rid the world of another. The monster's expression changed as I drew the gun to his forehead. Little bubbles of blood popped on the sides of his mouth as he silently pleaded. I cocked the hammer. Just then, the cavalry arrived.

We both heard the front door breaking down and shouts from the other room. The monster broke eye contact first, his head twisting toward the door. I turned my head after him and saw my partner standing over my husband's body, pointing his gun at
me.
His lips moved but no sound came out. Blue and red lights flashed outside my window on the street. I slowly turned back to the monster. He was smiling. He thought salvation had arrived. He turned back from the doorway and looked up at me, triumphant. His smile faded when he looked into my eyes.

I pulled the trigger.

The gunshot echoed as I jerked awake, the smell of the gunpowder and vanilla candles I had burning lingering. After I could breathe again, I noticed the ache in my abdomen. Panic stricken, I reached down to make sure my wound hadn't reopened. I felt the rough skin where my scar was. The moisture on my abdomen was just sweat, not blood.
Thank God. It was only a dream.

I glanced around the room, which really wasn't a room, just a gurney with a white curtain around it. To my right was a machine with wavy lines on a monitor. A wire trailed back to my finger, which had a piece of white plastic on it. A blood pressure machine. That took me back. Okay, I was in a hospital. Talk about déjà vu.

I closed my eyes to calm myself down, but a minute later the curtain swished open and Luke stepped in, closing the curtain behind him.

“What happened?” I asked.

He came beside my bed and peered down at me. “You had a panic attack.”

“Oh, shit. How long was I out?”

“Two hours.”

I groaned in embarrassment. “Did everyone see?”

“It was hard to miss. One minute you were walking and the next you fell to the ground. At first, we thought you had just fainted, but Dr. Shepherd—”

“What did Shepherd do to me?” I asked urgently.

“Nothing. He saw you stumbling, gasping for air, and then falling over. He was the first over to you. He checked for—”

“You let him touch me?”

“He took your pulse.”

“Why the hell didn't you push him away?”

“Iris, for God's sake, the man's a doctor. He just touched your wrist and your eyelids to check your pupils. Calm down.”

I turned my head away from Luke toward the machine. My BP had gone up considerably. Revulsion and shame did that. “Did you arrest him?”

“For what? Taking your pulse?”

“For killing those women.”

The coward peered at the floor to avoid my eyes. He took another step toward me, pulling the chair next to the bed closer. The last time someone did that very same thing, it was my mother when I awoke from major surgery and was asking for my husband. She gazed at the ground, pulled up a chair, and told me he was dead. This was not going to be good news. “Iris…” he began, “a scalpel was found in Mooney's apartment. It had two types of blood on it, and they matched Audrey's and McIntyre's. The only set of prints on it belonged to Mooney.”

“So?”

“We also found thiopental sodium and pictures of the women taken without their knowledge in front of their homes and offices. Mooney's fingerprints were on those, too.”

“Luke it was a setup. That psycho wants you to think—”

“Iris,” he said with a hard edge, “listen to me. Henry Mooney killed those women, not Jeremy Shepherd. It's all but official. We're just waiting for Shaw to review everything before we close the case. I'm sorry.”

Damn it.
My tears began to fall again, and I turned away from him. I wiped the tears away. “You used to have faith in me,” I said, my voice breaking. “Why can't you now?”

“Iris, we wouldn't have caught him if it weren't for you.
You
found him. He'll never kill again. That's your doing. You did good.”

The curtain swished open again. “Sir?” Clarkson asked. “They need you back down at the scene. Agent Lamb's arrived.”

“Be right there.”

“You'd better go,” I told him.

“I'll come back to check on you later,” he said. “Okay?”

“Fine,” I whispered.

Silence filled the tiny space. Finally, Luke said, “I'm sorry.”

His footsteps moved away, and I heard the curtain close.
Good riddance. Judas.
A few seconds later, I turned to see if he'd really gone and sat up. The dizziness that whacked my vision wasn't enough to stop me. I had to get out of there before he returned. My purse was under the bed, and I rooted around for my cellphone. I found candy bars, lipstick, my tape recorder, my wallet, my gun, a little man…I stopped. I'd forgotten all about him.

I pulled out the Luke Skywalker action figure. This man, no bigger than my palm, held up his green sword ready to do battle with the forces of the dark side. Just looking at him, so tough and fearless, a choking gasp escaped my mouth. More tears fell and I didn't try to stop them. I was supposed to be strong for the women—to be their avenger—but…I'd failed.

“Oh, Gabriel,” I whispered, “I'm so sorry.” Luke Skywalker went back into my bag, and the cell came out. Information gave me the number of United Airlines at LaGuardia. “Yes, hello,” I said, trying to remain calm. “I need your first flight to Charlotte, North Carolina.” I was put on hold.