by Chelsea Cain
Archie lifted his glass and took another sip of whiskey. His glass had left a wet ring on Christie Brinkley’s forehead. “We?” he asked Cooper.
Cooper was quiet.
Archie looked at Susan, to see if she was listening, but she appeared to be studying her cards.
“That’s right—we,” Karim said, sounding a little agitated. He pointed a finger at Cooper. “Trust me, mate. Jack’s not going to find Gretchen Lowell in the tunnels.”
“You’re right,” Archie said. “I don’t think she’s in the tunnels, either.”
Cooper’s shoulders heaved and he sat back heavily in his chair. “You think she’s off the island by now?” he asked Archie.
“I didn’t say that,” Archie said softly.
Cooper’s eyes moved from Archie to Karim. “What’s he talking about?” he asked Karim.
Karim’s face was impenetrable. “He’s trying to fuck with you,” he said.
Cooper hesitated and then turned to Archie. “Where do you think she is?” he asked.
Susan was still looking at her cards but a small frown line had appeared between her eyebrows.
Archie picked up his glass and turned it slowly in his hand, making them wait. He kept his eyes on Karim. “She has a funny idea that she can catch the man who killed that girl they found on the dock yesterday,” Archie said.
“I thought she killed that girl herself,” Cooper said.
“She says she didn’t,” Archie said. Karim had diverted his attention to the game now, his fingers pinching his cards. He reached a hand up and straightened his tie.
“She says she saw a man in a mask lead the girl from the party into the tunnels and then bring a corpse up a few hours later,” Archie said.
Archie watched as Karim studied the carefully fanned cards in his hand, his eyes roaming from one to the next, as if seeing each one for the first time. The back of the cards had been embossed with gold crests.
“She’s curious who this man might be,” Archie said.
Susan inhaled quickly and laid down a black queen.
“Fuck,” Karim said, flinching at the sight of the card. He swept the pile of cards toward him, as Susan smiled.
“Fancy cards,” Archie said to Cooper.
Cooper smirked. “Gift from the boss last Christmas,” he said. “We all got them. Generous motherfu—”
Archie saw Cooper’s eyes move to the door an instant before Cooper sprang to his feet. He had leapt up so quickly that Archie, startled, had nearly dropped his drink.
Cooper’s body was rigid, muscles tense, gun trained at the door.
The door was closed. No one moved. The only sound was the clock ticking.
“Uhhh,” Susan said. But Cooper lifted a hand and silenced her. Then, weapon raised, Cooper started walking toward the door.
Archie wasn’t sure exactly what Cooper’s job was, but he suspected that he wasn’t given to hysteria. Whatever Cooper had heard, they had to take it seriously. Archie put his drink down, and got up and went after him.
For a big man, Cooper was light on his feet. He had a big stride. Archie had to take two steps for each of his. But Archie caught up, and as he neared the door on Cooper’s heels, he could hear it, too—a muffled shuffling coming from the other side. Cold sweat tickled the back of his neck. He reflexively reached for his weapon, but his hand found only air. Cooper leaned a shoulder against the wall to the left of the door. The door opened in, and the doorknob was on the left-hand side. Cops learned to approach a closed door from whatever side the knob was on—that way you could avoid placing your body in front of the door, where you might get shot. Cooper was approaching the door like a cop. The next noise was louder. It was the sound of something or someone making contact with the other side of the door. Cooper lowered the elbow of his firing arm and moved his gun to his rib cage in a close-contact firing position.
Archie felt Susan come up behind him. “Get back,” he hissed at her. Her freckled face was pale. Over her shoulder Archie could see Karim, now standing, back near his place at the settee.
Susan didn’t move. Her eyes were fixed on something past Archie, something at the bottom of the door. He followed her gaze to the floor. The floor at the door’s threshold was darker than it should have been. Archie inched forward. It wasn’t a shadow. It wasn’t the grain of the wood. Archie glanced at Cooper. Cooper’s wild eyebrows lifted. Archie moved Susan against the wall behind him and then crouched as low as possible. Cooper was waiting, watching him, his hand poised to turn the doorknob. His breathing was slow and steady. There were no more sounds on the other side of the door. Archie reached and slid a finger along the crack where the door met the floor. His finger touched something wet. He knew by the feel of it that it was blood.
Archie heard Susan say something and felt Cooper shift, leaning closer. Something scraped against the other side of the door. The source of the noise was closer to the ground than the other sounds they’d heard—only a few inches above the floor. Cooper stepped back and aimed his weapon at the noise.
Archie looked at the blood on his finger and moved in front of the door directly into Cooper’s line of fire. He pressed his ear against the door and listened. He closed his eyes. He could hear the scraping noise again, louder. And then a faint rattling. It grew louder and then faded, and then repeated the pattern. It was breathing.
Archie reached up and, ignoring Susan’s and Cooper’s protests, he turned the doorknob. He could immediately feel the weight of the body against the door, and had to get to his feet and use his shoulder to brace it so that he could open it slowly. Cooper stepped to Archie’s left, and helped anchor the door with his foot as he aimed his weapon through the ten-inch opening, and Archie peered around to see what was on the other side.
Razor Burn was slumped on the hall floor, his back against the door, his chin on his chest. Cooper shifted his foot and Archie felt the full weight of Razor Burn’s body again. He eased the door open as Cooper continued to scan the hallway with his weapon. When the door was at a wide enough angle, Archie was able to take Razor Burn by the armpits and drag him inside the room. As soon as Razor Burn’s heels crossed the threshold, Cooper slammed the door shut.
“See anything out there?” Archie asked Cooper. Razor Burn was unresponsive, his breathing shallow, his shirt soaked in blood. Archie reached for his wrist to take a pulse. Susan hovered at his shoulder. Archie didn’t see Karim.
“A lot of blood,” Cooper said. “You think this was her?” he asked.
Archie’s fingers touched something slippery and warm in Razor Burn’s hand. He reflexively recoiled and Razor Burn’s limp hand fell open and the glistening, lumpy, rope of flesh he had been holding slopped onto his shirt. Susan squealed. Razor Burn’s abdomen gaped open, revealing subcutaneous fat and the red meat of muscle. He had been holding his own intestines.
Archie’s mouth went dry. He swallowed hard. “It’s her,” he said.
Cooper was silent, but his eyes were vigilant. He lifted his chin and turned his gaze out the front window behind Jack’s desk. He was listening, Archie realized. But all Archie could hear was Razor Burn’s strained, rattled wheeze. His pulse was so weak it was almost undetectable. Archie knelt over him. His bulging intestinal tissue lay in a bloody heap across his belly.
“Sirens,” Cooper said.
Archie heard them then. The familiar wail of emergency vehicles was so distant that it was almost imperceptible. Help was coming. If it got here fast, Razor Burn might even live. Archie wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve and propped Razor Burn’s knees up to keep as much blood as possible circulating in his heart.
“What can I do?” Susan asked.
“Find me a clean cloth or napkin,” Archie said.
Susan scrambled toward the bar.
“I didn’t call for the police,” Karim said darkly. “Who did?”
Archie glanced at him. He was still standing over by the settee. Couldn’t he see that they were trying to save his buddy�
��s life?
Karim’s eyes were icy. “You’ve set this whole thing up,” he said. “This is all part of your investigation.”
“What investigation?” Cooper asked.
Archie cradled Razor Burn’s head, trying to comfort him. “The murder of Lisa Watson,” Archie said.
“You’re going to arrest me,” Karim said, only a faint note of concern in his voice.
The darker, thicker hose of Razor Burn’s large bowel bulged from his open wound. “Yep,” Archie said.
“Found something,” Susan said, and Archie’s eyes lifted as she crossed back toward them from the bar, holding a white dishcloth.
Archie saw what Karim was going to do an instant before it happened. Karim’s gaze shifted to Susan, and Archie saw his lip curl, and the menace in his eyes, and he knew then what Gretchen had meant about the murderous look she’d seen directed at Lisa Watson.
Karim moved for Susan. She was looking at Archie, pleased to have found what he needed—she didn’t see Karim coming for her. Archie started to stand, but Karim was too quick. He snatched Susan from behind and Archie saw a flash of light as Karim snapped a knife to Susan’s neck.
Archie and Cooper were both on their feet now. Cooper’s gun was trained on Karim. Cooper and Archie exchanged a brief glance—just long enough for Cooper to give Archie an almost imperceptible nod. And just like that, they were on the same side.
Susan’s eyes looked large and white, the irises straining to see the blade at her neck. Her lips were stretched in a grimace. Tears gleamed at the corners of her eyes. “You have got to be fucking kidding me,” she said through gritted teeth.
The sirens were louder now, but Archie still couldn’t tell how far away they were—sound could travel a long way over water.
Karim’s eyes darted to the window. He was clearly trying to do the same math. Then Karim seemed to make a decision, and with a rough jerk, he began to drag Susan sideways toward the door. She stumbled and lost her footing and Karim wrenched her up. “You are a cow,” he seethed. He pulled his elbow back until the sharp point of the blade was nestled just under her jaw. The viciousness of his words barely registered on his composed features. “And I will slaughter you like one.”
Susan’s face had gone bone-white.
Archie searched helplessly around for a weapon—something, anything—he could use against Karim. A broken bottle? He’d never make it to the bar in time.
Karim flicked the knife and Susan yelped as an arc of blood spat forward onto her shirt and the toes of her shoes. Archie heard his own voice cry out as she was hurt, a strangled sound of pain that might have been only in his mind. He waited, frantic and useless. There was no arterial spray. Susan was still standing. Her earlobe bore a dark red cleft where the knife had split it.
Susan was mewling, tears streaming down her cheeks. It killed Archie to witness her terror, to be so close and yet so worthless. She was looking at him, pleading with her eyes, and there was nothing he could do. If he lunged at them, Karim would surely cut her throat. The sirens seemed like they were getting closer, but for all Archie knew they could be responding to a fire on the other side of the lake. Susan was limp in Karim’s grip now, surrendering to him completely. Satisfaction spread across Karim’s face. Archie’s stomach turned. Karim was feeding off her fear.
There was no fire. The sirens were coming for them. It occurred to Archie in a flash. Karim’s teaspoon. No one had called 911 from the island because no one had needed to—the DNA must have matched trace evidence found on Lisa Watson’s body. Even if something happened to Archie, Henry would have the evidence he needed to put Karim away.
Archie stepped in front of the door, grasping for something to say that would buy their reinforcements some time. “You dug it up,” Archie said.
Karim’s mouth twitched. He lifted his elbow as if he might drive the knife across Susan’s throat.
Cooper hadn’t blinked, his eyes fixed down the barrel of his weapon, finger on the trigger.
Susan shut her eyes.
“The knife,” Archie continued. “It’s dirty.”
“You’re watching me,” Karim said. His eyes traveled around the room. “I knew you were watching me.”
He was right at the cusp, like a flame near gas. Archie thought he might combust before their eyes.
“I can’t let you leave this room, Karim,” Archie said.
“Archie,” Cooper barked.
Archie swung his head around. Razor Burn had somehow managed to prop himself up onto his elbows, his gut in a slippery pink heap, a gun in his hand. Archie could see the ankle holster he’d drawn the gun from between his pant leg and his black sock. His face was pallid and waxen and blood coated his mouth, but his eyes were trained on Archie and the gun seemed steady enough.
“Shoot him,” Karim said.
Razor Burn fired. The shot was an earsplitting crack and Archie lurched and then caught himself, his ears ringing. Immediately, another crack split the silence. When Archie looked up, Razor Burn was on the floor, blood gurgling from where Cooper had shot him in the neck. His intestines were spread across his thigh. The smell of gunpowder hung in the air. Cooper didn’t bother to kick the weapon from Razor Burn’s hand. There was no question he was dead.
Archie spun around to check on Susan. Karim had used the distraction to move past Archie, closer to the door. Susan’s arms were pinned at her sides as she shuffled backward, the knife at her throat. She was crying, her wet eyes fixed on him, terrified.
Then he knew.
He followed her gaze down his chest.
The bullet had gone in just under his left rib cage, almost in the very spot where Gretchen had stabbed him. It didn’t hurt. Archie studied the dime-sized bullet hole in his blazer. He could see the dark ring of lead that had wiped off the surface of the bullet as it passed through the corduroy. He opened the jacket. The bloodstain on his shirt from the scalpel had been completely obliterated by the dark red stain spreading from the fresh bullet hole. He could feel the warmth of his own blood pulse against his skin. His knees wobbled. The sirens wailed.
Archie sucked in a breath and straightened up.
Karim was almost to the door with Susan.
Archie cupped his hand over the wound and stumbled forward, just as Karim pulled Susan through the door and into the hall, kicking the door shut behind him. Karim knew the tunnel system. If he took Susan belowground, Archie wouldn’t stand a chance of finding them.
“Archie,” Cooper called sharply.
Archie didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop. Karim had Susan. He reached the door and threw it open, barely aware of Cooper coming up behind him. “Take this,” Cooper said. Archie looked down. Cooper pressed his gun into Archie’s hand and backed away.
The sirens. They were louder now. It sounded like dozens of vehicles. Archie knew where Cooper was headed—out through the large window in Jack’s office. Cooper clearly didn’t want to be here when the police arrived. Archie didn’t stop him. He raised Cooper’s weapon and turned down the hall. He could see Karim and Susan up ahead. Susan was dragging her feet, making herself heavier, and it had slowed Karim down some.
Blood streaked the white walls on either side of the hall, where Razor Burn had leaned as he’d tried to make it back to the office. The Oriental runner that ran down the center of the hall was darkened with blood where Razor Burn had fallen and crawled. A framed photograph had been knocked off the wall and now lay in pieces on the floor. Archie glanced down as he stepped over it and saw the face of fourteen-year-old Isabel Reynolds smiling up at him from under splintered glass.
When he looked up, Susan and Karim were out of sight. Archie plunged onward, Cooper’s gun clutched in his right hand, his left still trying to slow the flow of blood seeping from his wound.
He saw the first body as he cleared the hallway and entered the main foyer. Ronin lay facedown in a dark pool of blood. His throat had been cut so savagely that Archie could see the white pulp of his partially severed spinal c
olumn.
Archie heard a noise on the stairs and spun around, ready to shoot. Leo was crouched halfway down the stairs, shirtless, in black pajama pants, gun drawn. Archie lowered his own weapon slightly, breathing hard.
“I heard shots,” Leo said, scrambling barefoot down the rest of the stairs. The color drained from his face as he took in the carnage on the floor. His lips drew back and he physically recoiled, even as his shooting arm tensed.
Archie had never seen Leo Reynolds afraid before.
The sirens were loud now. Right outside. They reverberated inside the house, an insistent wail.
“What’s happening?” Leo asked hoarsely.
Bloody footprints continued from the body to the left, toward the hall bathroom where Archie had met Lisa Watson, marking Karim’s path. Archie motioned for Leo to follow him. There wasn’t time to explain. “Gretchen’s here,” Archie said. “Karim has Susan.”
Leo didn’t ask any more questions. He looked Archie up and down, his face registering Archie’s alarming condition, and then Leo nodded and raised his weapon. “Let’s go,” he said.
They followed the footprints. Archie limped forward, the sound of Susan’s whimpering echoing in his head. He could feel the gunshot in his gut now. It burned every time he took a breath. Blood spread down his pant leg. But he kept moving.
The footprints continued through the foyer, into the smaller hall that led to the back of the house. This was where the real butchery had happened. Archie counted six bodies on the hall floor—all members of Jack’s security detail, by the looks of them. Blood was everywhere—on the walls, the floor, dripping from the chandelier. The smell of fresh meat permeated the air.
