by Chelsea Cain
Archie squinted and lined up his shot. “She asked me to kill you,” he said.
CHAPTER
66
This is it,” Susan said, looking out the car window at the low brick building that was the Church of Living Christ. “There’s a light on.”
Leo had a black Volvo and its wood veneer accents gleamed purple from the dash lights. He turned the headlights off and the car went dark.
“Stay here,” he said, opening his door.
Susan unbuckled her seat belt to go after him. “I’m going with you.”
Leo turned around and leaned back into the car. His face was dead serious. “You just got out of the hospital,” he said. “I’ll check it out. Wait here.”
Susan stiffened and nodded. She felt a shot of fear run down her back. The idea of running into Colin Beaton again had not actually occurred to her. Now she couldn’t get the image of his machete out of her mind.
Leo closed the driver’s-side door and Susan watched him walk around the hood of the car, illuminated by a streetlight. She rolled down her window. “Wait,” she called.
He turned back.
“Give me your phone,” she said, reaching out the window. “In case something happens.”
He tossed her the phone and she caught it. “Don’t download anything,” he said. “And no smoking in my car. I’m going to walk the perimeter, and then I’ll be back.”
“Listen to you,” Susan said. “ ‘Walk the perimeter.’ Who’s been watching TV cop shows?”
Leo ignored her and she watched him walk toward the church until he was far enough away from the streetlight that he disappeared into the darkness.
It was at that moment, sitting there alone in Leo’s dark car, that she remembered Derek. Shit. She had never called him back. She punched his cell phone number into Leo’s phone. It rang a few times and then went to voice mail. He was probably asleep. “It’s me,” she said. “I’m an asshole, I know. Sorry. Listen, my phone isn’t working, but you can call me on this one.” She rattled off Leo’s number. “Later.”
She settled back in the seat, watched out the window, and waited.
And waited.
She picked up the phone and had almost finished punching in Leo’s number before she realized that he didn’t have his phone, she did, so he wouldn’t get the call.
Crap, she thought. How long did it take to walk a perimeter, anyway?
She got out of the car and was closing the door behind her when she saw the Crown Vic parked a dozen feet ahead of them under the streetlight. The make, model, dark color. The whip antenna. It looked like Henry’s car.
Susan called Archie. It went straight to voice mail.
She looked back at the church.
Then she walked around to the driver’s side of the Volvo, popped the trunk, and got out a tire iron.
She couldn’t call Henry or Claire or anyone else on the task force because she didn’t have any numbers memorized but Archie’s. Bliss didn’t have a cell phone. If she called 911, what would she tell them? There’s a light on in a church and my heroin-dealing boyfriend is taking too long to walk the perimeter?
It was up to her.
She had to find out what was going on.
She headed for the church, gripping the tire iron. As she got close she noticed that a door to the side of the main double doors was ajar.
“Leo?” she whispered.
She readied the tire iron and pushed open the door with her foot. The office was dark, but she could see light coming from another door, farther in. There were voices, too. Someone ranting.
She was inching toward the noise, straining to make out the voices, when she heard a woman behind her say, “Don’t move.”
Susan’s stomach dropped.
The voice said, “Turn around.”
Susan slowly turned and found herself blinking into a flashlight beam.
The beam lowered, illuminating the woman behind it enough that Susan could see that she was a cop.
A cop! Susan almost laughed, she was so relieved. Then she remembered she had just broken into a church and was holding a tire iron.
“Who are you?” the cop asked.
“I’m a journalist,” Susan said quickly. “I came here looking for Pearl Clinton. I think my friends are in there. With a serial killer.”
The cop nodded at the tire iron. “Put that down,” she said. “And we’ll go take a look.”
CHAPTER
67
She doesn’t want me dead,” Colin said. He shook his head defiantly, but Archie could see the despair in his eyes.
“She thinks you’re insane, Colin,” Archie said.
“Liar!” Colin bellowed.
Colin lifted the phone, as if he were going to make a call.
“Wait!” Archie cried.
“Archie!” Susan yelled.
Susan’s voice made Archie’s stomach drop. What was she doing here? He couldn’t turn around, couldn’t take his eyes off Colin. It was all he could do not to run to her. “Susan?” he asked.
“I’m with a cop,” she said. “I’ve brought help.”
“Colin,” a stern female voice said. “You need to let them take that girl out of here. You hear me?”
It was Huffington. Archie felt flooded with relief. She would have radioed her location in before she came inside. If she failed to check back in, her dispatch would send in reinforcements. Now all they had to do was stall.
“I saw the light,” Huffington said. “Decided to check it out.”
Colin was fixated on Huffington, his mouth open.
“He’s got the reverend wired to some kind of bomb,” Archie said. He kept Colin in his sights. He might not be able to kill him, but he could hurt him.
Colin was growing more distressed. His thumb hovered over his phone’s keypad. Huffington’s presence had rattled him. He knew he was outnumbered. “Drop the gun,” he ordered Archie. “Or I make the call.”
“You’ll blow yourself up, too, Colin,” Archie said. The reverend. Pearl. Colin. They were too close together.
Now Colin was shaking uncontrollably, like something long coiled inside him had finally come loose. “Gretchen took care of us,” he protested. He looked frantically at Huffington. “She protected us.”
“By killing your father?” Archie said. “You had other options. Whatever was going on, there were ways to get help.”
“The church told us to forgive,” Colin wailed in Huffington’s direction. “You know how many kids have died because their parents didn’t pray hard enough, didn’t love God enough?” he asked Archie. “Where were the police then?”
“We’re here now,” Huffington said from behind Archie.
Colin blinked sorrowfully out at Huffington. The twitching stopped. His body went still. Something had gone dead in his expression. His arms went slack. His eyes fixed. Only his lips were moving. Archie realized he was praying. He was going to do it. He was going to detonate the bomb.
There was no more time.
“Look at me, Colin,” Archie said quickly. “Watch. I’m going to put down my gun.” Colin’s lips stopped moving and he eyed Archie warily. Archie could only hope that Henry was getting close enough to line up a shot, and that Colin had, for now, forgotten about him. Keeping his eyes locked on Colin’s, Archie knelt down, hit the thumb safety on his weapon, and slowly set it on the carpet. Huffington was behind him. She was armed. She could cover him. “See?” Archie told Colin. “There it is. I’ve set down my gun. I’m going to stand up now, okay? Okay, Colin?”
“Is Pearl all right?” Susan cried from behind him.
“Susan, get out of here now,” Archie said. “Huffington, get her out of here.”
“I just want to see how she’s doing,” Susan said.
“Colin!” Huffington cried, and he turned in the direction of her voice, just as Henry fired. Henry hit him in the shoulder, and Colin fell back and his phone hopped from his hand onto the carpet. Colin shrieked like an animal and the
n reached for something under the altar and came up with a machete.
Henry was already scrambling up the steps after him, his gun raised. “I can kill you from here, Colin,” Henry yelled. “You hear me? Drop the machete or I will fucking drop you.”
Archie was crouching back to reach for his gun on the floor, when he felt the muzzle of a gun pressed against the back of his head.
The reverend was still praying. Pearl was still on the altar. Henry’s gun was aimed at Colin. Colin was on his feet, bleeding, holding the machete like a baseball bat.
Huffington had called Colin’s name, warned him in time for him to turn away from the kill shot.
“Sorry, Detective,” she said.
Archie was inches from his gun. Huffington kicked it and it skidded under the pews. He turned around, very slowly, feeling the muzzle of her gun draw a band around his head until it settled on his forehead. Then he looked up at her. Weight gain had changed the quality of her features. She had changed her hair. But now that he knew to look, he could see the traces of the girl.
“You don’t want to do this, Melissa,” he said.
CHAPTER
68
Susan was frantic. The cop she had brought to rescue everyone was now holding a gun to Archie’s head. She could see Pearl, but she couldn’t get to her. She needed to get to her. Colin had the machete, but he was wounded, she could see blood seeping down his arm. Archie and Huffington were in the center of the congregation pews. Susan needed to get up there. She pressed her back against the wall that she had seen Henry creep along, and she started inching sideways.
“Keep me, Melissa,” Archie said to Huffington. “Keep your brother. But let Susan and Henry get the girl and the reverend out of here.”
Susan kept moving. Trying not to audibly sob. Trying not to draw attention to herself. Archie had called the cop Melissa. Melissa Beaton.
“Tell your partner to holster his weapon, Detective,” Huffington said.
Susan could see Henry’s back, his gun raised defiantly at Colin, whose bloody machete flashed in the light.
She was even, now, with Huffington and Archie, him kneeling in front of her, her gun pressed to his head. It looked like an execution.
“You’re not going to kill me,” Archie said, looking straight ahead. “You’re a good person, Melissa. You put the past behind you. You became a cop so you could protect people. Even after everything that happened to you here, you came back to this town to keep an eye on things.”
“I can’t let you hurt him,” Huffington said. “It’s not his fault. He shoots Colin, I shoot you.”
Susan’s legs felt weak. She couldn’t move. She was frozen, watching the scene unfold in front of her.
Archie said, “Shoot him, Henry.”
“No!” Susan said, forgetting her plan to be stealthy.
“That girl’s dying, Melissa,” Archie said. “Pearl will die if we don’t get her help.”
Susan didn’t know where Leo came from. Suddenly he was just there, in the room. He was holding a bloody handkerchief to the back of his head with one hand, and in the other he had a gun. He didn’t break stride. Didn’t show any surprise or horror at the scene. His gun was raised at eye level. He was looking down the barrel. He was aiming at Huffington.
“No one’s shooting anyone,” Leo said.
Huffington glanced back at him and said, “I’m a cop.”
“So am I,” Leo said. He fired into Huffington’s shoulder.
Huffington dropped to her knees, and then slumped forward onto the carpet. Susan’s ears rang from the gunshot. She could smell gunpowder. She had her hands over her face and was half crouched against the wall, peering out between her fingers.
Colin was screaming. Henry lunged for him and tackled him to the ground. The podium toppled over, and the microphone bounced down the steps with a sustained mechanical screech. Colin let go of the machete, sending it slicing through the air. It impaled a pillar-shaped plant stand, which tumbled to the floor, sending a brass urn full of lilies on its side. The flowers spilled out of the urn and the urn rolled down the sanctuary steps after the microphone. The plant stand lay on its side, the machete still sticking out of it.
Susan stood up out of her crouch and ran alongside the wall up the stairs to the sanctuary, lilies flattening under her feet. Her vision was blurry from tears. Henry had Colin facedown, his arms twisted behind him—still wailing. The reverend hadn’t budged. Susan had to scramble around him to get to the other side of the altar, nearly tripping on his calves.
She reached Pearl just as Archie did.
When Susan saw Pearl, she was nearly overcome with relief. Pearl’s eyes were closed, and her body looked boneless and bloodless. They had gotten there just in time. They didn’t have minutes to spare. She was hurt. She was so pale and limp. The Pixies T-shirt was soaked with blood. There was blood everywhere.
“She’s dead,” Archie said. His face contracted in pain for a moment and then he looked away. Susan didn’t understand. They were there now. They could rescue her. “I’m sorry,” Archie said.
Dead? But Pearl couldn’t be dead. The reverend was still praying, still babbling about Jesus. He hadn’t given up. Why was Archie giving up?
Susan shook her head. This wasn’t happening. Archie had it wrong. “She’s not dead,” Susan said. “You can save her.” She grabbed on to his arm and made him look at her. She could make him understand, if she pleaded hard enough. Archie had brought her back from the dead. She had drowned. Her heart had stopped. She had been clinically dead. And he had saved her. He had brought her back. “Like you saved me,” she said.
He could barely look at her. She could see how hard it was for him, how much he was struggling. “She’s been dead for hours,” Archie said.
The weight went out from under Susan’s legs. She fell to her knees, and Archie caught her and lowered her gently to the carpet, and she folded her hand around Pearl’s. It felt cool and dry, and not like a real person at all.
Henry had his knee on Colin’s back and was holding him to the floor.
The reverend was still praying. Susan wanted him to stop. Didn’t he know? Didn’t he understand that it was useless?
“Reverend Lewis,” Archie said gently. “It’s over. We need to get that vest off of you.”
The reverend looked up. His eyes were red. His hands were covered with Pearl’s blood. “Forgive me,” he said to no one in particular.
“This way, Reverend,” Henry called. “I can cut you out of that.”
Susan couldn’t stop shaking. “I’m sorry,” she whispered to Pearl. “I’m so sorry.” She said it over and over again. Then she felt Leo’s phone vibrating in her pocket. It was reflex that she even pulled the thing out. It was Derek. He’d send help. She lifted it to her ear.
“No,” Archie yelled.
But she had already hit the green button to take the call.
She saw a flash of light before she heard the explosion. A burst of orange and black fire followed by an eardrum-splitting blast of sound. The floor shook. She heard glass cracking and the sound of wet splatter on wood. Something hot and soft seared Susan’s neck. She found herself on the carpet, eyes squeezed closed, trembling, choking on smoke. She kept her eyes closed, terrified to look. She could feel bits of things, terrible warm squishy human things, against her skin and on her clothes. The smell of burned flesh and hair made her stomach twist. When she had mentally catalogued her body and was sure that all of her parts were still there, she opened her eyes. The beige carpet was blackened and sticky with blood. She lifted her hands off it, sat up, and looked around, dazed, her head thumping, at the slick pieces of flesh and hair and bone that seemed to cover everything. It was still smoking.
Henry was wiping body goop from his eyes. His clothes were bloody. His eyebrows were singed. He had been knocked on his back by the blast.
Colin was gone. The explosion had been just the opportunity he needed to escape.
Susan looked up at Archie
, his forehead covered with a fine mist of red.
She didn’t know what to say. Somehow “sorry” didn’t seem to cover it.
Archie lifted his arm and wiped the blood off his face. “Are you okay?” he asked her.
Susan nodded.
Archie looked back at Henry.
Henry was pulling himself to his feet. “Me?” he said. “I’m fucking perfect.”
Susan tended to Pearl. Her body was spattered with tiny bits of the reverend’s flesh and blood, like someone had combined shrimp and tomato soup and then forgot to put the lid on the blender. Susan picked some of the larger pieces off while Archie called 911.
CHAPTER
69
Susan was wrapped in a blanket and curled up on a church pew, where she had been instructed to wait until a crime scene investigator could collect the evidence that stuck to her clothes.
There were, by her estimates, a hundred cops now on the scene. City cops. State cops. County cops. FBI. The Coast Guard would probably be there in a minute.
“Anything?” she heard one of them ask.
“He must have had a car,” someone else said.
Pearl was still lying up there, right out in the open, while strangers took pictures of her. It made Susan sick.
Archie walked up to her. He had cleaned most of the blood off his face, though he still had something vile-looking spattered on his shirt.
“Where’s Leo?” she asked.
Archie sat next to her and leaned in close. She thought, for a moment, that he was being affectionate, offering solace or something. But his eyes were too serious for that. “Leo was never here,” he whispered. “They’re going to take your statement. You borrowed his car. You came alone. Got it?”
Susan managed a minuscule nod.
The EMTs beckoned Archie over. Huffington had been loaded onto a gurney and stabilized for transport. She was weak, but she wanted to talk.
