Gus trembled. "You'll kill us both anyway!"
"Your daughter doesn't know anything. No need to kill her."
Carla said, "I won't kill my own niece, Gus."
"Oh, but you'll kill your brother?"
"You made us do it. I tried to warn you. You wouldn't listen."
Blechman shouted, "That's enough, Rosa."
Gus could barely think. "Just let Morgan go. The police are on their way. I wasn't bluffing. I called them."
"Is that true, Rosa?"
"Yes. He called again from the bedroom after he got my gun."
His eyes blazed. He tightened his grip on Morgan. "You shouldn't have done that. And you," he said to Carla, "shouldn't have let that happen."
"Take your hands off my daughter. I'll pull the trigger, I swear."
"That's Rosa's gun:' said Blechman. "It isn't even loaded. Is it, Rosa?"
She struggled nervously. "That's right. It's not even loaded."
Blechman said, "Go ahead. Pull the trigger."
Gus could see Morgan was beginning to lose consciousness. Blechman had been restraining her with his right arm around her torso, but the hand was now up around her throat. "Let go of my daughter!"
Blechman's eyes locked on Carla, as if they controlled her. "Tell him. Tell him to go ahead and squeeze the trigger."
Her voice shook, but she didn't dare disobey him. "Go right ahead, Gus. The gun isn't loaded."
He could tell she was lying. If he didn't somehow keep them talking, he'd have to shoot his own sister. "What did you do with my wife?" Gus shouted.
"She's been a grave disappointment to me," said Blechman. "I put up with her disobedience for a very long time. She had a special look. She could have gone far. But Morgan looks an awful lot like her. In due time, she may go further."
His perverse intentions were suddenly laid bare. On impulse, Gus shoved Carla down the stairs, just far enough to force Blechman to drop his guard in self-defense. It was only for an instant, and it would call upon every bit of experience he'd ever had with. but Gus had an opening. He fired a shot that snapped Blechman's head back in a crimson explosion.
He fell into the darkness, taking Morgan with him.
"Morgan!" Gus leaped down the stairs. Blechman hadn't moved. Morgan was squirming on the cement floor, her hands and feet bound, her eyes and ears still covered. Gus ripped the headphones off and held her close.
"It's Daddy! It's okay, sweetheart. Everything's okay."
At the foot of the stairs, Carla was on her knees at Blechman's side, weeping softly. Gus grabbed Blechman's gun and shoved it in his belt. He took Morgan in his arms and stepped past his sister, leaving the duct tape over his daughter's eyes so she wouldn't see the carnage. Carla never moved as he and Morgan climbed the stairs.
At the top step he stopped and looked down into the basement. Carla leaned forward and kissed Blechman's bloody lips, then glanced up at Gus.
"You murdered my husband," she said in a voice that cracked.
Gus looked at her with both contempt and pity. She'd gone from bad to worse, from an abusive old boyfriend who used to beat her into submission to a psychopathic cult leader who controlled her very mind. From that depth, sadly, there could be no return.
Gus closed the basement door and locked it. Sirens blared in the driveway as the police arrived. With Morgan cradled tightly in his arms, he simply waited.
Chapter Sixty-Eight.
More than a dozen dead.
That daunting tally confronted Andie when she returned to the office in Seattle just before sunrise the following morning. Two men and three women had been brutally murdered--two more if you counted Shirley and Meredith Borge. The cult had lost another eleven members, including Blechman, Felicia, and Tom. Some had died in the fire before the FBI could evacuate them. Some had hanged themselves in the frenzy.
Andie hadn't slept all night, but her adrenaline was still pumping. Peering through the one-way glass outside the FBI's interrogation room, she finally had an opportunity to see Victoria Santos operate in top form. Isaac had called her in late last night to interrogate Gus's sister after several other agents had elicited only blank stares. Carla had never asked for an attorney, so further interrogation was legally proper. It was just a matter of finding someone with the skill and expertise to break through to a devoted follower who had just lost her beloved leader, her cult husband. Isaac thought of Victoria. And he was absolutely correct.