by Lara Lacombe
“Nothing too serious, I hope,” Justin replied. There was a strange gleam in his eyes that gave Quinn a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach. It was almost as if Justin was amused by the idea of Quinn getting hurt and needing medical attention.
“Nothing a little rest won’t fix,” Quinn said. Time to end this conversation. He started to push the door closed. “I hope you enjoyed your visit to the park. Sorry we didn’t get a chance to meet up. Have a safe trip home.”
Justin smiled—it was a sly, knowing look that made Quinn’s stomach turn. He couldn’t get rid of this man soon enough. But just before the door closed, Justin thrust the toe of his shoe into the gap between the door and the jamb.
Quinn glanced up, alarm bells ringing in his head. “What the hell?”
Justin cocked his head to the side. “I told you I wanted to come inside. It’s time you let me.”
Quinn pushed, but Justin thrust his shoulder against the wood of the door. Quinn’s injuries had sapped some of his strength; he was no match for Justin’s determined assault. Quinn stumbled back, pain lighting up his side and back as he watched Justin stride into his apartment like he owned the place.
Where’s the gun? He hadn’t had a chance to unpack the bags from the ill-advised camping trip. His pistol should still be stashed in his pack, but where was it?
Quinn glanced around, trying to keep one eye on Justin as he searched for the bags. Rebecca had carried them in, but where had she put them?
“Nice place,” Justin commented casually.
“What do you want?” Quinn planted his feet and crossed his arms. Whatever Justin had planned, he knew it wasn’t good. Glancing past Justin’s shoulder, Quinn spied the blue fabric of his backpack in the corner; now he just had to think of a way to get the bag without raising suspicion.
Justin pushed up the sleeves of his shirt, revealing a few deep red scratches on his forearms. As soon as Quinn saw them, his heart dropped.
“You’re the one who attacked me.”
Justin nodded but didn’t speak.
Quinn connected the rest of the dots. “You’re the Yoga Killer.” It wasn’t a question—Quinn knew it was the truth as soon as he’d said the words.
Justin smiled, clearly pleased. “The one and only,” he said. He bowed slightly, as if acknowledging applause.
Shock and revulsion filled Quinn, making his stomach turn. “Why?” He thought back to his interactions with Justin before Ashley and Naomi had died. He’d never been friends with the man, but they’d been on friendly terms. Justin had always seemed a little strange, but Quinn had never imagined he’d turn out to be a serial killer.
Shows how much I know.
He heard Rebecca’s voice in his ear, remembered their conversation about the monsters that walked undetected in the crowd. It seemed Quinn had found one, but he hadn’t the first idea what to do about it.
Justin cocked his head to the side, studying Quinn. “You really haven’t figured that part out?”
Quinn simply shook his head, unsure of what to say.
Justin narrowed his eyes as he took a step closer. “Use your imagination. What could have possibly happened in my life that would make me want to hurt you?”
“Naomi.”
“Don’t say her name!” Justin’s hand disappeared behind his back, returning a second later with a gun.
Quinn held up his hands, palms out. “Okay, okay,” he said soothingly. “I won’t talk about her.” Justin had come here to kill him, that much was clear. But if Quinn could keep him calm, he might stand a chance of defending himself.
“You took her from me.” Justin’s words were clipped, forced out between his clenched teeth. “You killed her, and you were never punished for it.”
Quinn took a half step to the side, inching closer toward the bag. Justin tracked his movement, the gun still down at his side. But Quinn knew that could change in an instant. He had to get his own gun before Justin decided to start shooting...
“You weren’t the only one who lost your wife that day,” he said. He tried to keep the anger out of his voice, but it was no use. “Ashley died, too.”
“And whose fault is that?” Justin snapped. “You were supposed to be hiking with them. You were supposed to keep them safe.” He pointed with the gun, his eyes wild with emotion. “For all I know, you set the whole thing up to look like an accident.”
“Why would I do that?” Quinn said, risking another half step toward the bag. “I loved Ashley. I never wanted to hurt her.”
“Maybe not,” Justin said. “But you were always jealous of her relationship with Naomi. I know you hated it when they would spend time together.”
Quinn gaped at Justin, at a loss for words. Where was Justin getting this from? He had never begrudged Ashley’s friendship with Naomi—on the contrary, he’d been happy the women had been able to spend time together. But he knew any protestations would only further anger Justin and possibly provoke him into shooting.
“I don’t think you meant to kill Ashley that day,” Justin continued.
“Oh?” Another step. Getting closer...
“I think you meant for them to have an accident, but that you intended to save Ashley before she could be seriously hurt.”
Under any other circumstances, the accusation would have made Quinn’s blood boil. But he was so intent on getting to the bag that he barely registered the words. Besides, he wasn’t going to let himself be provoked by a lunatic.
“You’re saying I murdered Naomi.”
“I know you did,” Justin countered. “You pushed both women off the ledge, trying to make it look like an accident.” He took a step forward, lifting the gun. “Don’t try to deny it.”
Quinn kept his mouth shut, his heart pounding in his chest. A drop of sweat ran down the valley of his spine, and he wiped his palms on his pants. “All right,” he said, swallowing hard. “I won’t.”
Justin stared at him, and for a split second, Quinn thought this was it. He half expected Justin to shoot him between the eyes, but instead he gestured to the recliner. “Have a seat.”
Quinn considered arguing, but decided against it. If he sat maybe Justin would, too. If he could get the other man to relax, he might let his guard down enough that Quinn could get to the gun.
It was a chance he would have to take. He sank into the chair, keeping his eyes on Justin. Sit down, he silently urged.
“So you killed those women to punish me?” He needed to keep Justin talking, keep his mind off the gun in his hand. Quinn knew he couldn’t distract him forever, but every moment counted.
Justin nodded. “My original intention was to frame you for their murders. I knew you’d never do time for killing Naomi, but I hoped I could still put you in prison.” He shrugged. “Then I realized you’d fallen in love, so I changed my mind.” He reached into his pocket and withdrew a silencer, which he screwed onto the muzzle of the gun.
A cold chill gripped Quinn’s heart. “What do you mean? I’m not in love.” But the words sounded false even to his own ears.
Justin smiled maliciously. “Oh? That’s not what you said last night.”
“Last night?” Quinn asked.
“I was in your hospital room,” Justin confirmed. “I’d come there to kill you. Imagine my surprise when I found that woman in your hospital bed.”
“She’s just a friend,” Quinn said, his mouth dry.
“I don’t think so.” Justin shook his head. “You woke up briefly, and I asked if she was your wife. Do you remember what you told me?”
Quinn shook his head, but Justin didn’t wait for his reply. “You said, ‘Not yet.’” He laughed softly. “Not yet. That’s when I realized you were in love with her. I knew you wanted her when I saw you both at the bar that night, but I figured that was just sexual attraction. I had no idea you’d fall for her so quickly.”
Me, neither. But Quinn remained silent. What was there to say? Denying his feelings for Rebecca wasn’t going to fool Justin. Her face danced through his mind’s eye and he realized with a heavy heart that he was probably going to die before he could confess his love for her.
The thought filled him with anger and his hands curled into fists. Was he really going to sit here passively while this man tried to take away the only happiness he’d known since Ashley’s death?
No. He wasn’t going to just roll over and die. He wanted to see Rebecca’s face again. To smell her hair and feel her cheek as he held her close. He wanted her to hear him say the words I love you. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.
Hopefully, it would be a long one.
Quinn’s muscles tensed in anticipation. He’d have one chance to surprise Justin—he had to make it count.
“Don’t even think about it,” Justin said. He pointed the gun at Quinn’s knee with a knowing smirk. “If you so much as breathe heavy, I’m going to shoot you. Is that what you want?”
“Why don’t you just kill me now?” Quinn asked. “Why are you dragging this out?”
“Oh, I’ll kill you soon enough,” Justin replied. “But only after the whole gang is here.”
A sudden, horrible clarity descended over him. “No,” Quinn protested. He tried to shout the word, but it came out as a whisper. “Leave her out of this. She’s innocent.”
“So was Naomi,” Justin said. His voice was heavy with pain, and Quinn realized that in spite of all his evil deeds, Justin was still grieving the loss of his wife.
“Justin, why does another woman have to die? This is between you and me—you don’t need to include anyone else.”
“Nice try.” Justin shook his head. “But she’s part of this now. Nothing you can do or say will change that.” He aimed the gun at Quinn’s chest and settled onto the sofa across from him. “Now be quiet. We shouldn’t have to wait too long.”
Chapter 16
“That’s not like you, Rebecca.” Frank’s tone over the phone was a mixture of surprise and concern, tinged with a hint of disappointment. “Your instincts have never been so wrong before.”
Rebecca sighed, knowing her boss was right. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she said. She glanced around, but she needn’t have worried. The corridor outside the police chief’s office was empty, giving her a modicum of privacy.
Frank made a thoughtful hum, and she pictured him standing in his office, staring out the window. “This case has been different from the start,” he said. “Your reports have reflected that.”
She nodded, even though he couldn’t see her. “I really thought Harry was the guy.”
“I know. It was an honest mistake.”
His absolution made her feel marginally better, but Rebecca knew it would be a long time before she could close her eyes without being haunted by the memory of the last victim. “I need your advice,” she said. “You’ve seen all the files, read all my reports. What am I missing?”
“I’m not sure,” Frank replied. He sounded rueful. “I probably would have come to the same conclusion you did. The fact that there’s no other obvious suspect makes me think you haven’t encountered him yet.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Rebecca confessed. “If I haven’t scooped him up yet, I might not be able to. He’s probably long gone by now.”
“No,” Frank said. “I don’t think so. The last murder was a break from his pattern. He’s losing control. The smart thing to do would be to leave, but he’s not going to be able to see that. He’s got a plan, and the encounter with Quinn shook him up. He’s going to try to course correct, and that’s when he’ll make a mistake.”
“You sound pretty sure of that,” Rebecca said. “I wish I shared your confidence.”
Frank chuckled. “I’ve been doing this for a long time,” he said. “You learn a few things.”
“So I’m basically stuck in a holding pattern until he makes the next move.”
“Not necessarily,” Frank replied. “He’s already feeling uncertain and insecure. Capitalize on that. Step up your efforts, really shake the trees. Increase the publicity surrounding the case. He’ll know you’re coming for him. It might scare him into making a move.”
Rebecca considered his suggestion. She remained quiet for so long that Frank spoke up again. “You still there?”
“I don’t know if I can handle another death on my conscience,” she said softly. “I hate the idea of provoking him into killing another woman.”
“You can’t control his actions,” Frank said. “Whatever he does, it’s not your fault.”
“Tell that to the family of Olivia Parsons.”
“You’re taking this one personally. Why?”
It was a question she’d asked herself repeatedly. Even before Olivia’s death, Rebecca had felt emotionally invested in this case in a way that she usually didn’t. She thought it might have something to do with Quinn. It had been clear from the start that the perpetrator had a vendetta against Quinn, and since Rebecca had fallen in love with him, it was hard not to take the killer’s actions personally.
But she couldn’t very well explain that to Frank. She’d already given him reason to suspect her professional judgment. The last thing she needed was to confess she’d started a relationship with a man who was part of her investigation.
“It’s hard not to take it personally when the last victim was found in my tent,” she said tersely.
“Fair enough,” Frank replied. “But you’ve got to get your professional distance back, or you’ll burn out fast. I don’t need to tell you how dangerous it is to let these guys get under your skin.”
“I know.” It was one of the biggest risks of her job. If she couldn’t maintain a separation between herself and her cases, she’d lose her ability to work. Every time she started an investigation, she put herself in danger of becoming one of the victims—not in the physical sense, but psychologically speaking. She knew a handful of people who hadn’t been able to shake off the horrors—they’d retired, but were still haunted by the things they’d seen and heard.
It was a fate she wanted to avoid. She was going to have to ignore her feelings for Quinn and put on her emotional armor once again. It was the only way to protect herself.
“Call me if you need anything,” Frank said. “And keep me posted.”
“Will do.” She ended the call and sat in silence, her mind wandering as she tried to plan her next move. Time to call a press conference, maybe grant a few in-depth interviews to some of the local reporters...
Her phone buzzed in her hand, and she checked the display.
I need to go back to the hospital.
Her heart jumped into her throat as she read the message from Quinn. What had happened to him? When she’d left, he’d seemed fine. Had he fallen, or done something to open up his wounds? Or maybe he needed more blood... Her imagination kicked into overdrive, conjuring up various scenarios, each more dire than the last.
She grabbed her bag and took off down the hall, not bothering to say goodbye to the police chief. She typed out a message on her way to the car.
On my way.
“Hold on, Quinn,” she muttered, climbing behind the wheel. “Just hold on.”
* * *
Quinn heard Rebecca’s footsteps pounding down the hallway and knew she must be running toward the door. A wave of love washed over him as he pictured her—she must have dropped everything when she’d gotten the text Justin had sent.
Justin heard the sound as well and smiled. “Showtime,” he said softly.
Quinn took a deep breath as the key scraped in the lock. “Stay back!” he yelled. It was his last chance to warn Rebecca about the danger in his apartment. He didn’t expect her to leave, but at least she wouldn’t be caught totally unaware
.
Justin frowned. “Idiot,” he muttered. “You’ll pay for that.”
There was a pause, then Rebecca pushed the door open and walked inside. She glanced at him, her expression shuttered. Then she looked back at Justin. “So it’s you,” she said calmly. “I should have known.”
Justin pointed the gun at her and gestured for her to take a seat on the couch. When she didn’t move, Justin pointed the gun at Quinn. “Do I really have to tell you how this is going to work?”
She shook her head and moved to the sofa. “I’ve seen enough movies, thank you.”
Justin pressed his lips together. “I suppose you think you’re clever.” Before she could respond, Justin pointed the gun at Quinn and pulled the trigger. Quinn heard a muffled “pop” and his shoulder exploded in a starburst of pain as the breath punched out of his chest.
Rebecca cried out and then he felt her hands on him, pressing hard on his shoulder. Quinn tried to make eye contact with her, but she was focused on his injury and wouldn’t look at him. “Go,” he choked out in a whisper. “Run now and I’ll distract him.” He had to make sure she got away from Justin, even if it was the last thing he did.
“Hush,” she said. “It’s going to be okay.”
“You do know I can hear you, right?” Justin asked loudly.
Quinn ignored him, focusing only on Rebecca’s face. He wasn’t going to waste what might be his last moments on earth with the woman he loved by acknowledging the psycho in the room.
She glanced at him, worry shining in her eyes despite her brave words. Quinn tried to smile. “I love you,” he said softly. It was the worst time in the world to confess his feelings for her, but he might not get another chance.
Rebecca blinked, clearly surprised by his unexpected declaration.
“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Justin said. He leaned forward, putting his face close to Quinn’s. “I knew I was right.”
Rebecca turned her head and gave Justin a level stare. “You know, I walked in here intending to arrest you. But now I think I’m going to have to kill you.”
Her words shocked Quinn. Rebecca was a model professional, the type of agent who always kept her head. Was she bluffing? Or had Justin’s actions pushed her over the edge?
