“You know,” Liam decided. “And I know you remember that night the summer after senior year, when you and I hooked up at that party. I know you remember, because you taunted me about the last time I touched your cock when you were calling me on the phone. You know, before you were captured and put back in jail where you belong?”
“You don’t have to be an asshole,” said Finn. “And yes, I remember. In point of fact, that proves what I said before about the idea of my never having gotten you off, doesn’t it? Because that was the night that I let you fuck me, so how in the hell—”
“Did you kill Cora?” said Liam.
“Who the fuck is Cora?”
Liam opened the file folder they’d brought along. He took out a photograph of Cora and slid it across the table to Finn. “Cora Manning. You insisted she be there while I fucked you, because otherwise, if you didn’t have your dick in pussy at the same time, it could be considered gay.”
Finn rolled his eyes. “You were just as confused and homophobic as I was back then, so shut up.”
“Did you kill her?” Liam tapped the photo.
“She’s dead?” Finn picked up the picture, looking at the girl.
“How did you find her that night, Slater?” spoke up Dawson.
“She came to me,” said Finn. “She said she’d always had a fantasy about being with two men, and I said I could make that happen. What do you mean, she’s dead?” He set the picture down.
“We found her in the freezer at Destiny’s place out in the woods near the college,” said Liam.
“You got a picture of that?” said Finn, sitting up straighter.
“No,” said Dawson in a firm voice.
Finn sneered at her. “I don’t want to talk to you. Why don’t you shut your tranny mouth?”
“Stop calling her names,” said Liam mildly.
“Or what? You’ll protect her honor?” Finn glowered at him. There was a long pause, and then Finn looked away. “So, Destiny sent that girl to us.”
“Come on, come clean,” said Liam. “You knew Destiny was alive back then.”
“I did not,” said Finn, wounded.
“You told me, when you were giving me that big spiel back in that beach house where you had us tied up? You told me that when she took the name Lola Gem, she was stealing from you. But you didn’t know that she’d taken the name Lola Gem if you didn’t know she was alive. So, admit that you knew.”
“I meant that after the fact, after I found out what she was doing, then I felt as if she was stealing from me.”
“You thought that if you pretended like you didn’t know, it would make her appear more guilty, and then I would be more likely to help you kill her,” said Liam. “That’s what you wanted, right? You captured me so that I would help you kill Destiny?”
“I. Was. Not. Pretending.” Finn’s nostrils flared. “Can we go back to this Cora person?”
“You killed her,” said Liam.
“I didn’t,” said Finn. “I didn’t kill anyone until after Destiny stopped killing for me.”
“Well, then Destiny killed Cora for you.”
“I didn’t even know she was dead.”
“Did you violate Cora’s body?”
“No,” Finn snapped. “What is this? Do you need me to confess to more murders, because I thought you had enough evidence to lock me up forever.”
“We do,” said Liam. “I just want you to understand the extent of Destiny’s betrayal to you.” He took out a piece of paper and slid that across the table to Finn.
Finn squinted at this. “What’s this?”
“Those are DNA results.”
“There should not be any of my DNA on that Cora person, and if there is, Destiny planted it. Or she killed her that night, after we were with her, in which case your DNA—”
“She was pregnant,” said Liam in a quiet voice.
Finn’s face froze.
“Yeah,” whispered Liam. “Destiny made you kill your own child.”
“I didn’t kill Cora,” said Finn, and there was something in his voice that convinced Liam. He was running his fingers across the lines of text on the piece of paper.
“Well, then, Destiny did it,” said Liam. “Destiny killed your child.”
“It was a boy,” spoke up Dawson.
Finn turned to her. His lips parted as if he was going to say something and then he went back to the piece of paper.
“That baby was a piece of you,” said Dawson. “Part of you. Your son. And Destiny Worth destroyed that. It’s like she killed part of you.”
Finn’s jaw twitched. He licked his lips, and then he slammed the paper over, so that it was face down. He glared at the table, and his voice was rough. “You two need to give me a minute.”
“No,” said Liam.
“Leave me alone.” Finn yelled it.
“No.” Liam was firm.
Finn clenched both of his hands into fists. Liam noticed his lower lip trembling, and Finn bit down on his bottom lip to stop it.
“Hurts, doesn’t it?” said Liam. He was well aware that Finn could feel hurt.
“Shut up,” growled Finn.
“You have the power to get her back for this,” whispered Dawson. “Tell us where Worth is.”
Finn brought his shackled fists up to his face. “So, that’s what you’re up to.”
“Tell us,” said Liam.
Finn lowered his fists. “Maybe you made this up. How hard is it to type up some results on a piece of paper?”
“We didn’t make it up,” said Liam. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”
“You hate me,” said Finn.
“Sure,” said Liam. “But making up a story like this to manipulate you and cause you pain? That’s something you would do. Not me. You know it’s true.”
“Destiny was spending time in that house in Delaware,” said Finn. “The one with the freezer. I stayed there with her and her people for a while.”
“She’s not there now,” said Liam. But he supposed that made sense, as to why the electricity had been on, why it had looked as though there had been a bonfire in the fire pit recently.
“No, they moved on,” said Finn. “She’s got a place in West Virginia now. She’s probably there. It’s out near Harper’s Ferry.”
“You know the address?” said Liam.
“Yeah,” said Finn. “And I’ll give it to you, but I want a promise first. I want to talk to her.”
“I don’t know about that,” said Liam.
“Sure,” said Dawson. “I’ll give you the chance to confront Worth. What’s the address?”
“I want the promise in writing,” said Finn.
“Everything’s being recorded,” said Dawson. “You get your lawyer to request this recording, and he’ll see that I made the promise.” She raised her eyebrows.
Finn considered. “Okay.” He rattled off the address, complete with zip code, so quickly that it made Liam annoyed with the way he’d been evasive about the Baltimore address.
“Thank you,” said Liam, getting up.
Finn looked up at him. Tears were welling up in his eyes. “I just fucked up my one shot to get into a mental health facility, didn’t I?”
“That was never going to happen,” said Dawson.
Finn bowed his head.
“Finn,” said Liam gently, “I know you’re not good with this, but you have to understand that you killed people, and that you have to be punished for that.”
“But I couldn’t help it,” Finn muttered.
“You could help it,” said Liam.
“How do you know?” Finn slumped in his chair. “Have you ever been inside my head? You don’t know what it’s like. It just… it won’t shut up until I do it. It’s the only way to get any kind of relief. I am a victim.”
“I don’t think very many people are going to be inclined to feel sorry for you,” said Liam.
“They feel sorry for those fucking whores, though?” Finn slammed his hands onto the t
able. “Like anyone would have cared if those bitches had died from drug overdoses. Like their lives would have meant anything to anyone then.”
“That’s not helping,” said Liam. He cocked his head to one side. “For what it’s worth, I feel sorry for you.”
A tear spilled out of Finn’s eye and he lifted a shackled hand to brush it away quickly. He let out a little laugh. “I don’t need your fucking pity, Liam.”
“Right,” said Liam. “Well, I guess we’re done.”
“Wait,” said Finn. “That address is good, and you’re going to find her. And in response, because you’re grateful, you’ll come back and see me again, tiger.”
Liam drew in a long, slow breath.
“You will,” Finn insisted.
“He doesn’t owe you anything,” said Dawson. She took Liam by the arm. “Come on, let’s go.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
LIAM was sitting in the passenger seat of Dawson’s car. It was parked at the opening to a long driveway to a house outside of Harper’s Ferry, and he was alone.
There were a slew of other police cars parked all along the driveway.
Dawson had led the charge into the house, and he’d been instructed to stay out here and wait.
Which was fine. He was good with waiting. He didn’t need to go in there, because he wasn’t armed and he wasn’t trained.
It was only that just recently, he’d started hearing a lot of gunshots, and he was starting to freak out because of Dawson being in there.
It wasn’t even about the hypothetical pregnancy, it was just about her.
It was about the way her deep voice had this rich quality to it, how it sometimes seemed to curl around his insides and make him feel like he was about to lose control. It was about the way she laughed. She’s sometimes make this ridiculous giggle snort that would make him laugh just from the sound of it. It was about the sounds she made when his mouth was on her skin.
He could not sit in the car, waiting for her, while she was in there possibly getting shot.
It was like an affront to his biological programming or something.
It was dumb, because he didn’t have a gun, and he wasn’t even a very macho sort of man, and he knew that if he went in there, he’d be a liability, and that she’d be just as likely to get hurt trying to protect his stupid ass.
And yet, he was opening the door and getting out of the car anyway.
He couldn’t seem to stop himself.
He hurried toward the house, staying to one side of the driveway, huddling against the trees that lined the drive, moving under the cover of their shadows.
All the time, as he moved, there were more shots.
No one was screaming, though. There was nothing like that. Maybe that meant the shots weren’t hitting anyone.
At the edge of the driveway, he halted next to the last of the trees and stared at the house.
It was two stories tall, and it had a wraparound porch that jutted out under a dark green awning. There was a garage attached to the side. The siding was a tan color, and he could see all that because the outside lights were on, and there were quite a few of them, attached to the corners of the house.
The front door was open.
He’d watched Dawson and twenty armed officers swarm in through that door.
But now, he couldn’t see anything through the door except a dull, yellow light.
The gunshots stopped.
It was quiet.
He took a deep breath and then sprinted across the drive, up the steps on the wraparound porch, and to the open doorway.
He peered inside.
There was a small foyer and a set of steps leading to the upper level of the house. No one was there.
At the top of the steps, though, he could see a foot dangling over the step. It was bare. It wasn’t moving.
What the hell was going on?
Should he go up and investigate what was attached to that foot?
Where was Dawson?
He stepped into the house and looked to his left. There was a doorway leading to a living room. There were couches in there and a TV attached to the wall. There were three bodies in there, sprawled out on the couches. There was blood on the ceiling, blood on the couch. Blood spilling out of their heads. They were holding guns and he was pretty sure they’d shot themselves.
Was that the gunfire he’d heard?
He rushed into the living room.
The smell of the blood was bright and coppery. His guts roiled.
Without spending any more time looking at the bodies, he rushed through the living room and into a room beyond it. This seemed to be some kind of office. There was one person sitting at a desk, her head lobbing sideways. Behind her, there was a bright red spatter of blood. A gun dangled from her lifeless hand.
Holy fuck, this was like Jonestown in here.
He exited the room and ran back to the foyer. He went the opposite way, to the right, and found himself in the garage.
“What was that?” said someone.
There was a big van in the way, and he couldn’t see who had spoken.
“It’s fine,” came another voice—unmistakably Dawson’s. “You know there are officers in the house. Now, Trina, let’s talk about putting down the gun.”
Trina?
He stepped around the van, and Trina Manning came into view. She was holding a gun underneath her chin. She was wearing a pair of purple pajamas with smiling ice cream cones all over them.
Dawson was in front of her. She had her gun in her hand, but she was pointing it at the floor.
“You,” said Trina, spotting him. “Liam Emerson.”
Dawson swore unintelligibly under her breath, but she didn’t take her gaze from Trina. “I told you to stay in the car.”
“Sorry. There were gunshots. I…” He could see now that these people were shooting themselves. God, how many guns did they have? What were the guns for?
“If I hadn’t seen you six months ago, I never would have been pulled back into this,” said Trina to him. “You. You obviously don’t remember, but you came by the apartment I shared with Cora, because you had found her purse. She’d been wasted out of her mind the night before, and it had her address in there, and you returned it. You wanted to know if she was okay. I remember you said that.”
Liam licked his lips. Should he say something? “You know, I’d feel a lot more comfortable talking if you put down your gun.”
She laughed. “Did you feel guilty about what you and your friend did to her?”
Liam didn’t say anything to that.
“I did,” said Trina. “I felt really guilty.”
“Trina,” murmured Dawson. “I’m going to take a step toward you.”
“Don’t,” said Trina, jamming the gun more tightly against her own skin. “You took advantage of her, Liam, but I put her up to it. I drugged her that night. I put E in her drink to make her nice and pliable. I did it for Lola. Everything for Lola. Sacrifice for Lola. Even my sister for Lola.”
Liam swallowed. “Listen, we can talk about—”
“I’m not a bad person,” she said. “I tried to put it all behind me. I never thought Lola would take Cora from me entirely. That night, when I delivered her to the bonfire, I didn’t think they’d kill her. I didn’t want that.” She sniffled. “I mean, I knew that Cora was pregnant, and she was being stupid about not getting an abortion, and I knew Lola was mad about that.”
“Liam,” said Dawson, “you should go back to the car.”
“It was my fault,” said Trina. “I just didn’t think about it like that when I did it. Lola made it seem like it was different, like it was good.”
“Where is Lola?” said Dawson.
“If I’d known that she was going to die, I would have talked sense into Cora.” Trina screwed up her face. She let out a sob. “I would have protected her, my sister. I never meant to let anything happen to her. But when Lola talks, it’s so hard to think.”
“Yes,”
said Dawson. “It’s Lola’s fault. So, tell us where we can find her.”
“Not here,” said Trina, letting out a wild laugh. “I called her and told her not to come home the minute I saw the police cars coming. One last little gift for Lola. Everything for Lola.” Another sob. “I’m so sorry, Cora, I’m so sorry.”
“So, she was here?” said Dawson. “She was close, local? Maybe at a store or something?”
“After what happened with Cora, I left the whole stinking group,” said Trina. “I would have reported them, but I knew I’d go down, because I served my sister up on a platter. I stayed quiet. I stayed out of it, though. I was free. And then you came to my door again. Liam Emerson. I knew it was only a matter of time until you found all of it out. I had to go to Lola. No one else would protect me.”
“Is that what she’s doing now?” said Dawson. “Protecting you? Where the hell is she, if she’s protecting you?”
“The highest form of love is sacrifice.” Trina closed her eyes.
Dawson seemed to sense what she was doing and she sprang forward, yelling out, “No, no, no, stop.”
But Trina pulled the trigger.
Her head jerked back.
And it seemed like there was a delay before Liam heard the sound of the gunshot.
That couldn’t be right.
And then he didn’t see her fall, but she was on the ground, her body splayed in wrong angles, and there was blood—so much blood. All over the shelf behind her head, seeping out into the concrete, staining her hair red.
Liam convulsed. He was going to throw up. He turned and ran out of the garage.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“YOU realize you were not supposed to be there?” Dawson was saying to Liam. “That you were contaminating the scene?”
“I got outside before I threw up,” he said. He still looked green.
“You are a civilian.”
“I know,” he muttered.
“You were supposed to wait in the car.” She threw up her hands. “I shouldn’t have even let you come along.”
“I know,” he said. “I meant to stay in the car. I knew it was stupid, but it wasn’t really a decision I made with my head. I just… if something happened to you and I didn’t do anything, I couldn’t live with that.”
Blood Indulgence: a serial killer thriller (Phineas and Liam Book 3) Page 9
