“Yeah, Liam, I think you and I both know there probably is. You’ll talk. Perry and Karasek will still get off the hook, but they’ll come after you, whichever prison you’re in. No, there’s only one professional solution to this situation—you have to kill all of us.”
He heard some garbled words from Ethan.
Taylor laughed, making clear he could see through what Finn was doing, but he still said, “Who do you think you are?”
“I’m nobody. I’m just telling you that if you were at all professional, you’d kill every one of us. Of course, if you were at all professional we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
Taylor gave another little dismissive laugh and shook his head, then looked as if he was ready to walk away, a moment of theatricality that was meant to take Finn by surprise but was too easy to read. As Taylor turned sharply back, Finn was ready for him.
The only thing Finn didn’t know was whether he’d strike him with the gun or go for him with the syringe. It should have been no contest, but Taylor seemed briefly torn, readying his thumb on the syringe before realizing there was only one option. He produced a quick punching backhand, but even then, seemed undecided as to whether he should swipe Finn’s face with the whole gun or plant the butt into his cheek.
It didn’t matter. Finn saw the hand fly in toward him, grabbed it, spun him around. Taylor was muscular, solid, but there was no strength in him, either because he was disoriented or because the bulk had come through steroids.
Finn was behind him now, holding the gun hand pointing toward the ceiling. Taylor’s finger was still on the trigger but he didn’t even have the sense to fire a round—maybe he was still wedded to the idea of stealth. Instead, he thrust the other arm backward, trying to hit Finn with the syringe.
Finn edged away from the first thrust, then as he tried to swing again Finn grabbed that hand and drove the syringe into Taylor’s thigh, putting his hand over Taylor’s thumb and driving the plunger home.
Taylor let out a small squeal and started to kick and flail. Finn drove him forward, smashing him into the doorframe, Taylor’s gun arm slamming awkwardly into the woodwork, and Finn’s fingers, too. For just a moment, Finn let go, and Taylor’s arm recoiled across his body. Finn slammed him forward again and turned him. He pulled the gun free and pushed it flat against Taylor’s abdomen, pressing it into the soft flesh of his belly until the barrel was pointing up at the inside of his ribcage.
Taylor’s face contorted, a moment of total fear as he understood what was about to happen. Finn pressed the trigger, the gun kicking a bruise across the surface of the flesh, the muffled bang still shattering the air, Taylor’s body going into a strange visceral spasm as the bullet spun off bone and through the tissues of his chest cavity.
Finn caught the body as it crumpled, lowering it to the floor, Taylor’s startled face looking as if he was still trying to work out what had just happened inside his chest. Finn couldn’t see or feel an exit wound, and only a little blood trickled slowly out of Taylor’s mouth. The bullet had stayed inside him, which would make him easier to transport.
He took the gun, wiping it clean on his shirt before pressing it back into Taylor’s hand, and only now did he realize that Ethan and Debbie were both talking, mild but shocked expletives, talking about the noise, wondering if the neighbors had heard, wondering above all what they were meant to do now.
Finn didn’t look at them but at Hailey. She sat up, throwing the duvet back, put her hand to her neck where the needle had been. She glanced at the body, but only briefly, and then up at Finn.
Finn moved toward her and said, “Did it break the skin?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so. Will you look?”
She tilted her head to the side and grimaced, as if dreading what he might find there. He looked at the smooth flesh of her neck, his fingers gently probing to find a telltale red pinprick, relieved that there was none. Her neck was hot, like a child who’d been suffering a fever, and he was fearful after the fact now, realizing how easily he could have come in here and found that skin cold and unyielding.
“You’re okay.”
“Thanks.” She looked up at him and smiled, trying to show him how all-encompassing that single word was meant to be.
He nodded, and then noticed a plastic bag on the floor next to the bed. As he picked it up, Ethan and Debbie rushed forward—a delayed reaction—throwing themselves at Hailey, bombarding her with affection and assurances.
The bag was full of junkie paraphernalia. It was crude, but he guessed the syringe that was still lodged in Taylor’s leg contained heroin, and given Hailey’s recent history, maybe that would have been enough for the police to dismiss the Portmans as the ultimately delusional parents.
Ethan saw the bag and said, “Is that heroin?” Finn nodded. “What are we gonna do? I mean, about him?”