“Jenna—”
“And then you grew up. The boy who tried to kill me that day became the man who’s killed eight people. Then, when I started getting close, when it became convenient to pin all these murders on Aiden, you tipped off Officer Ricketts about the whereabouts of the knife. How’m I doing so far?”
“You’re doing quite well, Detective. Quite well.” Justin moves a few steps closer. “Now lower the gun and drop it, Jenna. Slowly, or I’ll get nervous.”
Noah remains motionless, save for the drop of his jaw, as I do what Justin says. I lower the Glock to my side and let it fall from my hand.
“You must have just figured this out,” he says. “Or you wouldn’t have tossed me the gun.”
“You mentioned Aiden,” I say. “He wouldn’t hurt me. I know that now. And you just confirmed it.”
“I guess I did. Quite true about Aiden. He’s your hero, after all, the young lad who rescued the damsel in distress all those many years ago. Too bad you realized it after you tossed me this gun. Life’s a game of inches, isn’t it? If it had come to you just a few seconds earlier, I wouldn’t be holding this gun. That’s gotta sting.”
Justin moves behind me, keeping both Noah and me in his sight and positioning himself beyond our reach. The right move, strategically. He didn’t get this far, for this long, without being smart.
“For what it’s worth,” Justin says, “I’d hoped that tonight would end differently.”
“You wanted me to kill Aiden when I came here looking for him. You knew this was where I’d come to look for him. You wanted me to kill him, to keep you clean. But you followed behind me, with your other gun, just in case it didn’t work out that way.”
“But I sure didn’t expect Noah,” he says. “The best-laid plans and all.”
Noah’s jaw clenches. I look at his left front pocket—was Justin right? Does Noah have Justin’s other gun, the .38 special?
“By the way, Noah,” Justin says. “In the future, if you think you’ve knocked someone unconscious, be sure they’re not faking. Stick ’em with a pin or something. And if you’re going to tie someone up with a rope, don’t just bind their hands behind their back. Bind their feet, too, and then bind the feet and hands together. It makes it a lot harder to get out.”
Footsteps behind me as Justin presses the revolver into the base of my skull.
“Not that it matters now,” he says, “but for the record, Jenna, I didn’t want anything to happen to you. You may find this hard to believe, but I really did want us to be together.”
I let out a bitter laugh.
“I did. Think of how good we’d have been together. Think of our children! Holden’s grandchildren.”
I stifle the urge to vomit, the bile at my throat. “You’re sick,” I say.
“Everyone’s sick,” he spits, pushing the muzzle of his gun into the base of my skull, forcing my head forward. “Everyone has it inside them. Some of us are a little more liberal about releasing it, that’s all.”
Noah is trembling, his eyes smoldering with pure hatred. “You killed Melanie,” he growls. “Right here in this room.”
“But that’s not even the best part,” says Justin. “The best part is you took the fall for it! Just like old times, with the school yard shooting. You’ve always been a reliable fall guy, Noah. I’ve never properly thanked you for that. How have those hands healed up, by the way, from your fun at Sing Sing?”
A furious, tortured smile plays on Noah’s face. “You’re gonna find out,” he says, “when I put them on your throat.”
“No, I think your hands are going on top of your head. And you’re going to move back toward the balcony. I know you have my thirty-eight special on you. If you make me nervous, this gun goes off. You’ll be wearing Jenna’s face on your shirt.”
Noah blinks, snaps out of his fury, looks at me, the gun shoved against my skull.
He backpedals from us, puts his hands on his head.
“You’ll never get away with this,” I say.
“Sure I will. Sure I will. The happy-go-lucky millionaire philanthropist who serves low-cost food to the middle class? Everyone loves me. Oh, and Jenna?” he says.
“Yes, Justin,” I say evenly.
He says it in a whisper. “After I kill you and Noah, I’m going to find your aunt Chloe and kill her, too. She’s going to love our little fun room downstairs. I’m thinking shish kebab.”
And then I feel the vibration against the back of my skull as Justin pulls the trigger.
120
CLICK.
Justin pulls the trigger again.
Another hollow click.
I dive for the Glock I just dropped, sliding to the floor, then spinning back, faster than Justin can say Damn, this revolver must not be loaded.
Thank you, Aiden, for emptying the bullets.