by Blake Pierce
“Just like I remember,” Jessie muttered under her breath.
“What was that?” Kyle demanded sharply.
“Oh, I was just saying that you’re behaving just like I always remembered,” she said, directing her attention to Hannah. “It looks like prison didn’t change him that much. He was always so pleased with himself when he came up with a plan and he simply had to share every detail, whether you cared or not.”
She heard Kyle inhale deeply and knew he was struggling to maintain control. But she also knew he wouldn’t take his next step until he was back in his happy, calculating place. He wanted this to go perfectly. And that meant staying cool. His efforts to regain that cool meant a temporary delay in enacting whatever his plan was. And every delay meant more time for her to find a way out of this. That is, unless he lost it completely and just shot them all.
“How well you know me, my love,” he said, seething under the charming surface. “Just like how you knew me so well when I was killing people and framing you for it, all the while sharing your bed, even knocking you up.”
The memory of just how easily Kyle had played her, how much he’d hurt her during that time, came back in a rush, threatening to overwhelm her. For two years now, she’d blocked out how her own husband had poisoned her, leading to a miscarriage.
Stay focused. Don’t let him manipulate you.
“Not so quippy now, are we?’ he said viciously, before the veneer of coolness returned again.
Hannah shifted on the ground and one of the plates slipped off her mid-back, clanging loudly but not breaking as it hit the hardwood floor.
“Tricky, isn’t it?” he said to her before returning his attention to Jessie. “Here’s how it’s going to go, no matter how much you try to stall by getting me worked up. There’s going to be a horrific scene when folks arrive here tomorrow and it will all be your doing, dearest Jessie.”
“Pray tell,” she taunted. “What’s the genius plan it only took two years behind bars to come up with?”
Kyle’s face contorted and before he could stop himself, the words came out through desperately gritted teeth.
“Shut the hell up or I’ll cut to the chase and slit the girl’s throat right in front of you,” he hissed. “You’re ruining it!”
“I’m sorry,” she said quickly, realizing her ex-husband wasn’t as unruffled as he seemed. She couldn’t push too hard.
“Thank you,” he said politely before continuing. “You’ve had a rough stretch of late. You smack-talked your superiors in the department and went on a racist screed on Facebook. You were investigated for abusing your own sibling, who was entrusted to your care. You’re dependent on heavy pain medication for nasty burns. Your mentor was murdered, a crime you couldn’t solve. And to top it all off, your ex-husband, who allegedly tried to kill you, was released from prison, sending you into a tailspin of paranoia.”
Jessie didn’t mention that the first two items on his list were his doing and that she’d been exonerated on both counts, even if the public hadn’t fully accepted that. Nor did she note that neither of the next two allegations was accurate. She rarely took the pills and Garland’s killer was sitting in front of her now. Only the last claim had the ring of truth to it.
Kyle smiled cruelly, knowing he’d drawn blood. He happily continued.
“One could understand how that cascading series of events could send you into a deep depression, one you might not be able to pull out of. Friends and colleagues, looking back, would probably wish they’d seen the signs that fateful night, when you returned home, beaten down, in pain, and mourning. You decided it was just too much to bear. They’d be devastated but perhaps not surprised to learn that you killed your own sister and boyfriend, before trying to end your own, now-meaningless life. The note would explain it all.”
Jessie took it all in. It was quite a clever plan, almost poetic in a way. If he could pull it off, it would be quite a coup. He would actually be successfully enacting the scheme he’d plotted once before, when he killed his mistress and tried to pin it on Jessie. Two years later, he’d have completed an even more elaborate version, with her going to jail for not one murder, but two. And not for killing a stranger but instead the two people closest to her.
“That’s pretty good,” she conceded, replying not out of any genuine admiration but because if she didn’t speak, she feared she might scream. “But I was confused by one thing. You said I ‘try’ to end my own life? Do I not succeed?”
“That’s still TBD,” he admitted. “I’m thinking that after I kill Hannah and Ryan, I’ll ‘help’ you take your remaining pain pills. There are a lot of them left. After the one you took tonight, there are still seventeen. I’m no doctor but I’d imagine that could kill you. Or maybe result in permanent brain damage, or not. It doesn’t really matter that much.”
“It doesn’t?” Jessie repeated, legitimately surprised.
“Nope,” he said, pleased that he seemed to have stumped her. “Even if you survive and you still have your faculties, what are you going to do, blame it all on me?”
“I would think so.”
“Good luck. Hannah here will have been shot with your gun. I’m thinking I’ll take Ryan out with a knife from your set. The note will reference your paranoid suspicion that your boyfriend and half-sister were having a secret affair. It will serve as a confession from a woman who never expected to live. Even if you do survive, your protestations that your ex-husband somehow secretly snuck into your highly secure condo, despite police protection, and managed to kill your loved ones and frame you for their murders is unlikely to gain much traction.”
“You sure about that?” Jessie countered. “I know some folks in the FBI who might take my view of things.” But even before she finished saying it, her heart sank at the answer she knew was forthcoming.
“That’s the beauty of it. I’m fully aware of the operation your friend Agent Dolan has going, at least through the end of this week. In fact, I counted on it. He might believe your claims of innocence and accusations of my guilt. But that will only make it all the more painful for him when he has to admit that he has the very evidence that disproves your allegation. He’ll have to show the video of ‘me’ asleep in bed thirty-three miles away at the exact time these murders were committed. It’s delicious, don’t you think? What better alibi witnesses could I have than the FBI?”
CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE
The panic Jessie had been battling since this began reasserted itself.
Kyle was right. If this went as he planned, it would be like a boulder pushed down a hill. Unless you stopped it before it started down, there was no way to slow its momentum until it got to its ultimate destination.
If she didn’t come up with a way out of this now, then in addition to Garland, Hannah and Ryan would be dead, she would be in prison, and Kyle would be free to inflict whatever sociopathic harm on the world he chose.
Then I guess I don’t have a choice. I’ll just have to blow up the boulder before it gets started.
“Kyle, while I’m obviously appalled, I have to admit that your plan is pretty ironclad,” she said, making every effort to keep any hint of insincerity from creeping into her tone. “But I’m a little confused by one part of it.”
“What might that be?” he asked, relishing her apparent puzzlement.
“I have it on pretty good authority that you want to, what was the phrase you mentioned to a fellow inmate, ‘gut me like a pig and bathe in my warm blood.’ In fact, when I visited you in prison that one time, I distinctly recall you made me a promise. Do you remember it?”
“Refresh me.”
“Sure. After all, I committed it to memory. You said ‘I’m going to get a tire iron and beat you until you’re a pulpy mess of shattered bones, shredded skin, and oozing blood. It’s gonna be special.’ Does that sound familiar?”
Kyle stared at her coldly.
“What’s your point?”
“Well, if I’m locked up for a doub
le murder, you won’t get to deliver on that promise. Even if I get the death penalty, it won’t be carried out for a long time and it won’t be you doing the deed. I just thought you wanted to be more ‘hands on.’”
She watched as he looked away, turning over the notion in his mind. As he did, she glanced around for anything she might be able to use as a weapon. Of course, even if she found something, she didn’t know how she’d access it with her hands cuffed behind her back. When she saw him look back at her, she made sure her expression was one of true mystification, devoid of disrespect.
“It’s not as big an issue as you might think,” he told her. “In fact, now that I think about it, there’s something extra satisfying about the anticipation. If you ever do get out, which we both know is doubtful, I’ll be waiting for you. And if I ever get tired of waiting, rest assured, I’ll be able to get to you. I have resources at my disposal. In the meantime, while you rot, I’ll be out enjoying the fruits of my new association.”
“I assume you’re referring to the Monzon cartel in Monterrey?”
“They’re very generous to those who exhibit loyalty,” he confirmed, grinning.
“They’ll eventually learn what we all do when it comes to you, Kyle.”
“What’s that?” he asked.
“That you’re not as loyal as they might think and that, in the end, you’re not worth their trouble. When that day comes, it’s going to get ugly for you.”
“Maybe,” he acknowledged, not as offended by the charge as she would have expected. “But in the interim, I’ll have a great time on their dime. Maybe I’ll engage in some risky, potentially criminal sexual behavior. I’ll send you postcards so that when you hear about the victims on the news, you’ll know who did it and that you’re powerless to stop it in the future.”
“That’s your fatal flaw,” she said, sensing that the time for talk was fast concluding.
“What is?”
“Always assuming I’m powerless. I’d think you’d have learned your lesson by now.”
He didn’t respond to that, instead shoving her gun in his waistband and moving over to the kitchen. Jessie knew immediately what he was after: one of the knives from the knife block sitting on the breakfast bar. And in that moment, she realized that for this brief period she had an advantage.
Kyle couldn’t kill her, at least not with a knife or gun. If his scenario—Jessie kills her loved ones and then attempts to commit suicide—was to appear credible, she couldn’t be found with gunshot or stab wounds. He had to show some restraint.
This was her window, when neither Hannah nor Ryan was in immediate danger and Kyle was vulnerable. So she took it. Jumping up and ignoring the plates that fell from her lap and shattered on the floor, she ran toward him. He turned around just in time to see her launch herself at him.
The collision was forceful. Jessie made direct contact with Kyle’s chest area before tumbling past him and slamming her shoulder hard into the side of the breakfast bar and sliding to the floor. Multiple screams of pain rang out in the dimly lit living room.
It took a second for Jessie to realize that one of the voices was hers. Her left shoulder was throbbing in agony and she immediately knew that it was dislocated. She looked over to see that, though he was still standing, Kyle was doubled over, clutching his right clavicle with his left hand. A half cry, half moan was emanating from deep inside him.
Jessie shut out the pain and tried to scramble to her feet. But Kyle, glancing at her through watery eyes, saw what she was doing and kicked her down again. Her back slammed into the base of the breakfast bar. For a brief moment, the pain in her shoulder was masked by the stinging sensation in her back.
“That was a mistake,” Kyle grunted as he stood upright and turned back to the kitchen counter.
Though she couldn’t see it, she knew what he was doing. The sound of a blade being unsheathed echoed through the room. A second later, he bent down to show her the chef’s knife. She took no solace in the knowledge that it hadn’t been sharpened in years. It would still do whatever job he had in mind.
He stepped away from her in the direction of Ryan and Hannah, who was getting to her knees, sending a new round of plates shattering to the ground. As he moved away, Jessie kicked out her leg, tripping him.
He sprawled to the ground, landing hard. She heard him howl in pain a second time and realized that something was clearly wrong with his collarbone. In fact, as he got to his knees, he switched the knife from his right to his left hand.
In that moment Jessie flashed back to the morgue where the coroner had described the hematoma on the back Garland’s skull. Suddenly she knew exactly how he’d gotten it. When he threw himself back into his assailant, he hadn’t made contact with his face. But he had connected with the man’s collarbone. Apparently he’d done some serious damage. And more than that, he’d left one final clue as to the identity of his killer.
Despite his obvious physical distress, Kyle glanced back over his shoulder at her with a triumphant grimace on his face, and then turned back around. Without a word, he plunged the knife into Ryan’s chest.
Hannah screamed. Jessie was too stunned to make a sound. She could only stare at the man she loved, unmoving, likely shrieking in silent agony at the blade embedded in the right side of his torso. Something inside her cracked and numbness washed over her body.
Kyle slowly got to his feet, then pulled her gun out of his waistband. He took several deep breaths before turning to face Jessie. She waited for him to shoot her. She almost hoped he would. Then this nightmare would finally be over.
But not for Hannah.
Somewhere in her desensitized remains, something stirred. Her death would leave her sister alone to face whatever evil Kyle still intended to wreak. And knowing Kyle, that was a lot of evil.
“What were you saying about powerlessness?” he snarled at her. “Looks like you’re going to have to rethink that one, darling.”
He turned back around to look at Hannah, who was still on her knees, surrounded by a sea of splintered china. Jessie knew what he had in store for her and resolved that no matter how futile, she would try to stop him. She wriggled to an upright seated position and noticed something in between the spasms of anguish emanating from her shoulder.
Now that the shoulder was out of its socket she had a sickeningly wider range of motion. She thought that if she could extend her arm further down, she might be able to slide her butt through the hoop of her cuffed hands and then loop her arms over her feet, moving them to the front of her body.
She waited until Kyle fixed his gaze on Hannah and began talking to her directly, as she knew he would. Then she began the maneuver, biting her lip to keep from letting any cry of pain escape.
“Hannah,” Kyle said in a mournful tone, “I’m truly sorry that you got caught up in this. It’s not your fault that you’re related to that messed-up bitch.”
“I’m glad to be related to her,” Hannah spat back at him. “She’s my sister and I’m proud of her. You’re the little bitch.”
Kyle laughed fleetingly before the pain in his collarbone made him stop.
“Now I see the family resemblance. Despite your nasty words, I want you to know that I’m not a monster. Okay, I am. But I’m not a complete monster. That’s why I’m going to make this quick for you. No knife to the chest, just a shot to the back of the head. You won’t see it coming. That’s my gift to you.”
Jessie had now managed her complicated maneuver. Her cuffed hands rested in her lap as she tried to decide how best to make her next move. She saw Hannah glance at her for a split second before turning her full attention to Kyle.
“I don’t need your gift,” the girl shouted at him in what was an obvious attempt to keep his focus only on her. “You’re just a coward who can’t look a teenage girl in the eyes while you murder her. I’m amazed you lasted two years in prison. I can just imagine the favors you had to do to survive.”
Jessie was on her feet right around t
he time Kyle responded.
“Last chance to turn around,” he growled at her sister.
Jessie was almost to him when he heard her footsteps. He spun around, aiming the gun in her direction just as she swung her arms over his neck. She heard the gun go off but didn’t feel any new source of pain, unaware that Hannah had flung her arm out, knocking Kyle’s elbow and making his shot fire errantly into a wall.
Jessie used her momentum to slam into Kyle. They toppled over, with her on top of him, and landed hard. As they hit the floor, she propelled her forearms into his chest, hoping to make solid contact with his clearly damaged clavicle.
The collision made them both bounce. Kyle hollered, indicating that she’d been successful in targeting his collarbone. She disregarded her own pounding shoulder as she clambered to her knees to get a better angle to twist the handcuffs around Kyle’s neck.
She saw him lift the gun, still in his left hand, in the direction of her head. But before he got it all the way up, two hands, Hannah’s, clasped his wrists. For several long seconds, the two of them engaged in a terrifying arm wrestling competition, as the teenage girl used her entire body weight to try to push Kyle’s arm down while he attempted to lift it, his vein-choked arm muscles bulging at the effort. Jessie flashed back to earlier that same evening, when another brave young woman desperately used all her strength to prevent a much larger man from hurting her.
Finally, he changed tactics, dropping his arm as he flailed about. As he did, the gun popped out of his sweaty hand and disappeared under the couch. He managed to roll over onto his front and knock Hannah away with one broad shoulder, sending her flying into the couch.
Jessie was now on top of him, squeezing the metal cuffs into his windpipe as she stared at the back of his head. She was just feeling him start to weaken when he threw his entire body up and backward, slamming down on top of her, leaving both of them splayed out on their backs, looking up at the ceiling.
