Every Trick in the Book (31 page)

I took a deep breath and described what had happened.

“So he’s still in the building?”

“Makayla hit him with a brick. He’s unconscious.” I sent an apprehensive glance at
Makayla. “Or dead. You need to come now.”

“Stay in the car with the doors locked,” he commanded, his voice tight with anger
and worry.

When I hung up, Makayla spoke in an unsteady voice. “I don’t think I hit him hard
enough to kill him.”

I squeezed her hand. “Even if you did, it was self-defense. He was going to murder
us, I’m certain of it.”

We sat like that, silent and holding trembling hands, until sirens heralded two police
cruisers. They pulled up in front of the building. Sean stepped out of one of them
and approached our car.

“Are you two all right?” he asked when Makayla rolled down her window, letting in
a blast of cold air.

“We’re safe enough, even though we’re both shaking like leaves in the wind.” She glanced
in my direction. “Her leg’s hurt, though.”

Sean hurried around to the passenger side and yanked open my door. He inspected my
flesh, speckled with a multitude of splinters and starting to turn a bluish purple.
“That looks painful.”

I shrugged. “It’ll be fine. I kind of deserve it for not being more careful.”

He hugged me tight and then held my gaze. His rugged face and kind blue eyes were
a balm. “I’m glad you weren’t seriously hurt,” he said. I knew he was angry, but he
was also too relieved to chastise us. In a flash, his demeanor changed and his gaze
slid toward the decrepit apartment building. “Is he inside?”

At my nod, he said, “We’ll take it from here. We need your statements, but I think
you need to get your leg checked out, Lila. Makayla, are you okay to drive? Can you
take her to the ER?”

“Yessir, Officer,” Makayla said with forced bravado.

“All right then, we’ll get your statements first thing in the morning. Just take care
of that injury.”

Reluctantly, I let go of his strong arm and climbed back in the car. As we drove away,
I watched the policemen gathering at the entrance to Justyn’s building. I hoped this
would truly mark the end of the nightmare he’d created.

HAVING HAD ALL
the splinters picked from my leg and my lacerations cleansed and bandaged, I was
finally alone in my house, overcome with exhaustion and relief. I made myself a cup
of chamomile tea and took it with me into the
bath, which I had filled with honeysuckle-scented bubbles. Having wrapped my knee
in waterproof bandages, I soaked in the aromatic froth, musing over the day’s events.
Issues had been resolved. Trey had decided to go to college. And Justyn’s violence
had been stopped once and for all. He was off the streets and in custody.

I hoped for Makayla’s sake that she’d merely knocked him unconscious. Makayla didn’t
have a mean bone in her body and would feel terrible if he died, despite the fact
that he was a murderer. I wished we had stayed to see Sean and his men carting Justyn
off, so that I’d know for certain that she hadn’t killed him.

An unwelcome thought penetrated my relief. What if he’d regained consciousness while
Makayla and I were waiting in the car? What if he’d come to and run away through a
rear exit? What if…?

I dunked my head underwater to drown out those thoughts. Justyn was apprehended. It
was over.

A few minutes later, I was wearing my soft flannel Hello Kitty pajamas that Trey had
given me last Christmas. Feeling cozy and warm and ready to tuck into bed with a book,
I walked around the house to make sure I’d locked the doors and windows.

After inspecting the window above the kitchen sink, I poured myself a glass of water
and drank thirstily, draining the glass. As I brought it down, my breath caught in
my throat. Staring at me through the glass was a face; a dark, shadowy face with angry
eyes.

Justyn had come for me!

BUT IT WASN’T JUSTYN
.

He’d been haunting my dreams since Melissa’s murder, so naturally I assumed that the
twisted, hateful face on the other side of the glass belonged to him, but it didn’t.

It was hardly any comfort that I wasn’t staring at a killer, because the intruder
looked furious and desperate enough to commit his own act of unspeakable violence.

“Jasper!” I shouted, refusing to let the co-op leader see how much he’d scared me.
“What the hell are you doing here?”

I have no idea whether he heard me or not, but his eyes flashed with a cold light
and then he disappeared from view. My courage wavered and I limped into the living
room and grabbed the fireplace poker. With my free hand, I dialed 911 and reported
my emergency as quickly as possible.

The operator asked me to stay on the line, so I dropped
the phone into the pocket of my robe and turned off the lamp. The darkness instantly
became heavy, weighed down by my fear. Every noise seemed amplified. My shallow exhalations,
the whisper of my slippers on the floorboards, and the rustle of the hem of my pajama
bottoms as I moved were far too loud.

I nearly screamed when I saw a long shadow fall across my front porch. And when I
heard the rattle of the doorknob, I had to bite down on my fist to keep the terror
in check. My door was locked, but if Jasper was determined to get into the house,
he only had to smash the pane, reach in through the hole in the glass, and unlock
the dead bolt.

Dozens of scenarios crowded my head. I could stand here, the iron poker raised over
my shoulder, and wait for Jasper to walk into the room. Swinging with all my might,
it was possible that I’d knock him out. Then again, I might not. If I injured Jasper
without rendering him unconscious, the pain could serve as a catalyst, fueling his
rage to the point where he would lash out, attacking me until his fury was spent.

Hide!
a part of me silently shrieked, but I instantly rebelled against that notion. I wasn’t
about to crawl under the bed and cower. This was
my
house.

There was a scratching noise against the wood of my front door, and I pictured Jasper
picking the lock. The image made me livid. How dare this drug-dealing pseudo-hippie
try to break in? I refused to become another crime statistic. In fact, I planned to
turn the tables on this creep.

As quietly as possible, I hurried through the living room and into the kitchen. After
grabbing a coat from the hook on the back of the door, I pulled out the
Eat, Sleep, Read
key chain from a drawer and headed outside.

My injured leg throbbed in protest as I crossed the lawn,
tiptoed through my dormant garden, and slid a key into the padlock affixed to the
shed. I’m not sure why I kept the tiny building locked, but I’d bought a new set of
tools after moving into my house, as well as a leaf blower and a self-propelling lawn
mower, and had decided to err on the side of caution. Now I was glad that I did.

Because this was a bona fide potting shed, there was a pass-through window cut out
of the rear wall. It was made of the same sturdy hardwood as the shed and slid open
and closed like a barn door. Below the window, there was a small table and a ledge
to hold seed trays and clay pots. I removed the padlock from the window’s wooden panel,
grabbed a hoe, and, leaving the front door open a crack, snuck around to the back
of the shed.

Hesitating for a moment, I considered the holes in my impromptu plan, but then I sucked
in a deep, steadying breath and pushed the hoe through the opening in the window,
knocking a stack of pots and a pair of gardening shears to the floor of the shed.
The sound reverberated in the still night and I tensed. Would it be enough to lure
Jasper away from the front of the house?

Pulling the hoe outside again, I slid the wooden panel closed, locked it from the
outside, and waited.

There was no doubt that Jasper could move with stealth. He’d walked the woods of Red
Fox Mountain for years and had told Trey that he knew exactly how to plant his feet
to deaden the sound of his footfalls. He claimed to have been taught this technique
by a member of the Cherokee Tribe, and if he’d been telling the truth, I might not
be aware he’d entered the shed until it was too late.

“I know you and Trey are in here,” his voice suddenly hissed.

Jasper was close—so close that I had no problem imagining him as a lion on the hunt
as he stalked over the grass and shriveled flower stalks. Luckily for me, I heard
a crunch as his shoes came in contact with some of the pottery shards and knew he’d
entered the shed.

I rushed around the building, slammed the door, and clicked the padlock into place
a heartbeat before Jasper slammed into the door.

“Trey, let me out!” he roared. “You’re making a big mistake. You and your sweet mama
are going to pay. You ruined me.”

Blood was rushing through my veins with such force that his words barely registered.
Leaning on the hoe, I panted for a moment, stunned that I’d succeeded in trapping
Jasper. On the other side of the door, he continued to shout threats and expletives
until my anger flared red-hot.

“How dare you?” I hollered back at him. “How dare you abuse my son’s trust and then
show up at my home in the middle of the night? How dare you sell harmful drugs to
kids? They might not know better, but
you
should. So help me, Jasper, if you come out of that shed I will bash your brains
in with this garden hoe.”

Jasper’s incensed pounding ceased.

“Do you realize what you’ve put your sister through?” I continued mercilessly. “How
scared she is? If it weren’t for Trey, she would have fallen apart by now. You broke
her heart, Jasper. What do you think will happen to her now?”

My words were met with silence. It lasted for a long time. A breeze rustled through
the bare branches of the oak tree in the far corner of my yard, and I gazed up at
the ink black sky, finding comfort in the presence of the high stars.

“Where is she?” Jasper finally asked in a soft, defeated voice.

“With Trey and my mother. She’d like to go to college but doesn’t have the money.
Her big brother ran away with all of it. She’s got nothing but the clothes on her
back.” I was being cruel, but I couldn’t help it. Jasper deserved to suffer for betraying
and endangering so many others.

A thud came from inside the shed, and when Jasper spoke next, his voice was lower
to the ground and I could only assume that he’d sunk to his knees, literally floored
by guilt and regret. “I hid my ATM card in one of the birdhouses at the clearing,”
he said. “You know the place. Iris brought you there after Marlette was killed. The
password is Iris’s birth date. Please…tell her…” he trailed off.

A shrill siren cut through the night’s hush. The cops had entered the neighborhood
and would be pulling into my driveway in a matter of seconds.

“I’ll tell her where to find the bank card,” I assured Jasper.

The sirens grew louder. Rotating white and blue lights suddenly illuminated the side
of my house, throwing multicolored beams into the shrubbery and trees.

“Lila!” Sean called out.

“Back here,” I yelled in reply, my voice sounding hoarse and tired.

A car door slammed, the beam of a flashlight wobbled over the grass, and I could hear
him running toward me.

“Wait,” Jasper pleaded. “Tell Iris that I’m sorry. I grew greedy and forgot my purpose.
Tell her that I never wanted to hurt her. Or anyone else. That I was happiest when
things were simple. I screwed it all up and I’d do anything to make it right. Will
you help my sister?”

“I will,” I promised, and then Sean was there.

Dropping the hoe, I wrapped my arms around his neck and breathed in his familiar scent.
His hands encircled my waist and he kissed my forehead and my cheek before finding
my lips. He kissed me deeply, urgently, and I knew in that moment how worried he’d
been.

“I can’t leave you alone for ten minutes,” he growled when he finally released me.

I handed Sean the shed key. “Jasper’s inside. I don’t know what his intentions were,
but I think the fight’s gone out of him.”

Pointing at my garden hoe, Sean asked, “Did you assault him?”

“No. I was just holding on to this in case he got out.” I dropped the tool onto the
ground and looked up as a second policeman jogged toward us. “I’m cold and my leg
hurts, so I think I’ll head inside. Besides, I don’t want to watch you guys take Jasper
away. This place is my only haven.” I made a gesture meant to encompass the house,
the yard, and the shed. “I’d like to wake up in the morning still feeling that way.”

Sean nodded and then, leaning close to me, whispered, “Officer McKeon will be booking
Jasper. I’m staying here tonight.”

When I looked surprised, he barked out a laugh. “Oh, Lila. You’re hurt and we’re both
too damned exhausted for more than a hug and kiss good night followed by eight hours
of spooning.” His eyes were shining with mirth. “Listen, lady, you’ve closed two open
cases in one day. You’re making the Dunston Police Department look inept, so I’m sleeping
over to make sure that you’ve gone off duty for the rest of the night. Got it?”