by Jen Talty
And if she would up dead.
At least she’d know the truth before she went six feet under.
Someone had to.
“She wasn’t Tina.”
“You’re stepmother,” Callie said matter-of-factly. “Why the mood ring?”
“Because that’s the very first gift that Tina ever bought me. I was shocked when she didn’t tell the cops that. It was the first moment I knew I could get away with it. Not that I thought I wanted to at the time.” Kara shoved Callie against the hood of the sedan before reaching in and opening the glove box. She pulled out a gun before leaning against the car. She folded her one hand across her middle but made sure the other one pointed the weapon right at Callie. “I was sick to my stomach for days over what I had done. It was like an out-of-body experience. I was bending over the body, pounding her face with some snow globe or something when I realized what I’d done. I quickly got up, cleaned off all the blood, changed my clothes, and ran off down the hallway screaming like a madwoman.”
“But you killed again. And all women that looked like Tina.”
Kara nodded. “We all have a type. I like women with long blond hair who are tall and slender and smart. That often gets me in trouble. I can’t tell you how many women I have dated that I’ve had to kill because they figure it out.”
Callie swallowed. “But you don’t just kill gays.”
“Nope. Sometimes I kill because I have to. I kill friends or colleagues or hookers because I get the hankering.”
“But you had a fourteen-year gap when you left Seattle.”
Kara shook her head. “Actually, I didn’t. When I left here the first time, I went to Vermont, and I met a lovely woman by the name of Heidi. We were madly in love, until she decided the fun was over. She thought I stifled her. That I was too jealous of her other friends.”
“So you killed her.” Callie let out an exasperated sigh. “How many women did you kill in Vermont?”
“Only six. And since I know what the next question is, I’ll answer it for you. I left them all with a pillow.”
“A pillow?” Callie snapped her gaze in Kara’s direction and stared at her with wide eyes. “In their hand?”
“No. Under their head.”
“Why that object?”
“Again, it had to do with gifts between me and my lover. See, Renee, she loved dolphins. And Ivy, ravens. Yes. It’s a pattern. My MO. Whatever the fuck you want to call it.”
“Okay. So why change the color of the trinkets? Or right and left hands.”
Kara shrugged. “I have to do things in sixes. I’m sure some shrink will have a field day with that one, but that’s the only reason. I’ve always been surprised that the cops in Vermont never really picked up on the pillow thing. They just thought I was staging the scene. I’m a little surprised you didn’t find those cases in your nationwide hunt these past couple of weeks.”
“We’re still looking,” she said honestly. “Any other murders you want to confess to, besides mine?”
“And Jag’s and Tina’s?”
Callie sucked in a deep breath. “Are they dead?”
“Not yet.” She curled her fingers around Callie’s forearm. “Let’s go join them.”
“How about I join you?” Jag’s voice jumped through the air, landing on her eardrums with a solid beat.
Kara pressed the cold metal of the gun into her temple and stood behind Callie. “What the fuck?” Kara asked with an angry grunt. “Where’s Tina?”
Jag raised his palms to the sky and inched forward. “Not here.”
“Don’t come any closer, or I’ll kill her,” Kara said.
Jag stopped moving.
Callie tried to heave in a breath, but she couldn’t. Panic settled into her chest. Her heart beat so irrationally she wondered if it might stop altogether. She stared into Jag’s dark gaze, looking for some kind of solution.
His eyes shifted to the right and then back to her. He did that three times.
The third time she followed where his eyes took her, and it landed her gaze right on the weapon in Kara’s hand.
“Why don’t you point that thing at me, because you don’t want to hurt her. You need Callie,” Jag said. He lowered his chin slightly, as if to tell Callie to trust him and go along.
She swallowed and gave him a slight nod. She’d be ready. She only hoped she’d understand the signal and that she wouldn’t get him killed in the process.
Kara laughed. “Why?”
“To tell your story,” Jag said. “You kill her, and the story changes focus. It won’t be about you anymore. It will be about Callie, the reporter turned crime novelist who tried to take down the Trinket Killer but got her and her boyfriend killed instead. What a tragedy. Hell, I can even see a made for television movie out of this. But you won’t be the heart of the story. You won’t even have a point of view. In the fictionalized book version, you won’t even be on the page.”
Kara’s grip tightened around Callie’s arm so much that Callie thought it might cut off the circulation. Kara shifted her aim, pointing the gun at Jag. “I can’t keep her alive now, and you know it.”
“You’ve got a better chance of getting away with killing me by keeping her alive and taking her hostage.”
Kara tossed her head back and laughed.
Jag mouthed, now and nodded.
Callie held her breath and lunged to the side, hitting Kara as hard as she could with her shoulder, knocking her off-balance.
Bang!
Callie fell on top of Kara as the gun flew to the ground, landing about five feet away.
Thud.
“Fuck,” Jag said with a groan as he held his hand over the right part of his chest.
Kara kicked Callie off her and crawled toward the weapon.
Callie did her best to try to stop her but with her hands tied it was nearly impossible.
Jag jumped to his feet, holding his hand over a bloody wound as raced toward them, but skidded to a stop as Kara lay on the muddy ground with the gun once again pointed at Jag.
“You stupid fucking asshole,” Kara said as she rose.
“I’m not as stupid as you think.” Jag dropped to his knees. Blood trickled down his arm.
“Put down the weapon,” a woman’s voice called. “Or I’ll shoot.”
Callie rolled to her side and let out a sigh of relief as she stared at Jenna and three other police officers, all pointing their weapons at Kara.
“You kill me. They kill you. It’s just a lot of fucking paperwork,” Jag said with a raspy breath. He fell to his back. “I hope someone called an ambulance, because I think I need one.”
Callie tried to scramble to her feet, but she couldn’t.
Footsteps stomped past her. One officer took the gun from Kara, slamming her up against the car.
“Hang on,” Jenna whispered. “Let me cut the tape.”
“Jag.” Callie had to get to him. Tears burned her cheeks as they poured down her face. All she could see was him lying flat on his back, his legs stretched out. One of the cops knelt next to him. She couldn’t even tell if he was still breathing. “How did you know we were here?”
“When we’re on duty, we use find my iPhone. Kara had his this whole time. And then Tina called 9-1-1 and confirmed the location. I’m just sorry we didn’t get here before the bitch shot him.”
Sirens rang out just as Jenna freed Callie’s hands. “Thank you.” She raced to Jag’s side.
His face was drained of all color. His eyes were closed, and his breath was shallow.
She glanced at the other police officer who was placing pressure on his wound. He had a grim expression. “You fight, Jagar Bowie. You hear me. I promised you three months. But I really want a lifetime. I love you, so you better not die on me, asshole; you got that?”
“What she said,” the officer said.
Callie sat in the corner of the waiting room. Jag’s wound had required a dangerous surgery to remove the bullet from one of his heart chambers. Without the su
rgery, he’d surely die.
But the procedure itself could kill him as well.
The doors swished open, however it was a doctor for another family.
She let out a long breath and went back to sipping the shitty hospital coffee.
“How are you holding up?” Henrietta, his mother, asked as she took the seat next to her, offering her a muffin.
“I’m okay.” She shook her head. “No thank you. I’m not hungry.”
“It’s been almost twenty-four hours, and you haven’t eaten anything. You need to eat, dear.” Henrietta shoved it in her hand.
Callie took it and gave her a weak smile. She glanced up and looked around the room. Ziggy and Jag’s father stood by the vending machines while Darcie lay sprawled out on one of the hard benches with her head in Troy’s lap. Part of Callie wanted to run. She didn’t belong with his family. If it wasn’t for her bringing Kara back, Jag wouldn’t be fighting for his life right now.
“Thank you,” Callie managed to choke out.
“He’s going to pull through.” Henrietta patted her leg. “He’s a Bowie, and we’re fighters.”
“That he is.” Callie nodded. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“For what?”
Callie set both her coffee and muffin on the table and cupped her face. She couldn’t stop the flood gates if she tried. At least they were silent tears, and no one had to hear them. Only her shoulders bobbed up and down like a crazy person.
“Oh, honey, if you’re thinking this is your fault, you better stop that now.” Henrietta wrapped an arm around Callie and stroked her hair.
“It is my fault.” Callie sucked in a breath and stiffened her spine. “Besides me bringing all this back to Seattle, he all but begged her to shoot him instead of me.”
“That’s kind of what cops do,” Henrietta said. “And he loves you.”
Callie turned her head and stared into the sweetest, kindest, loving eyes. They were filled with understanding and forgiveness. Warmth and gratitude. Callie opened her mouth, but no words came out. She cleared her throat and tried again. “So many people died because of me and that book and now Jag—”
“You better not talk like that in front of my son,” Herold said, standing over her with his hands on his hips. “The only person to blame in all of this is Kara or Carol or whatever the fuck that woman’s name is. Frankly, this family is damn happy to have you back. Our son was miserable without you. Now once this surgery is over and he wakes up, I hope you won’t be talking like that. And please tell me you’re staying.”
“As long as Jag wants me to, yes,” she said.
“Good.” Harold sat down on the other side of her and took her hand and kissed the backside of it. “Did you know we made it to the hospital just as the helicopter landed with Jag on it?”
She shook her head.
“We got to see him right before they wheeled him into the OR,” Herold said. “He asked me to do him a favor.”
“What’s that?”
“He wanted you to know that he heard you. Loud and clear.”
She smiled.
The doors into the waiting room opened and in walked the surgeon. Everyone stood and inched toward the doctor. It was eerily quiet.
Callie stayed one step back, but that changed when Henrietta and Herold pulled her front and center.
“How is he?” Troy broke the silence.
“The surgery went very well. Better than anticipated. The bullet didn’t do nearly as much damage as we thought. He’ll make a full recovery, though it will take some time.”
“When can we see him?” Henrietta asked.
Callie clutched her chest. The words full recovery echoed in her brain.
“He’s actually awake and giving all of us a hard time, even though he’s groggy. But he’s in the recovery room, so I can only let in two at a time, for short periods, and only immediate family for the next twenty-four hours. While we don’t see any problems or complications arising, we have to be cautious,” the doctor said.
Immediate family. Well, he was alive. That’s all that mattered.
“Excuse me, doctor, but is a fiancée considered immediate family?” Henrietta asked.
“Of course,” the doctor said.
Callie’s jaw slacked open. She might have been that once, but she wasn’t his fiancée now.
Henrietta turned and dug into her purse. “My husband wasn’t totally honest about his conversation with our son before they took him into the OR.”
“I’m not following,” Callie said.
“He was lucid enough to ask us to get this from his house.” She pulled out the jewelry box that housed her engagement ring. “I think he wanted us to go in first so he could give it to you, but this is the only way to get you to him.” She took the ring out and slipped it on Callie’s finger. “Why don’t you go see him first? Alone.”
“I…I…” Callie blinked, staring at the shiny diamond.
“Just go tell my son you love him.” Henrietta kissed her cheek. “We’re all so happy you came home.”
Every single time Jag shifted, his entire chest felt like he ripped it open. But he couldn’t get comfortable.
“You can have more pain meds,” the nurse said as she fiddled with the IV drip.
“No. I’m groggy enough,” he said. “I want to be alert so I can talk with my family. Aren’t they coming?”
“The doctor went to go get them.” She rested the call button on the side of his bed. “Use this if you need me and use this one,” she held up another wire with a button on the end of it, “when you want pain meds. If I were you, I’d give yourself a few pumps now. I’ll make sure we weaken the dosage for you. Just do one or two now. Trust me, you won’t be sleeping from it, and you might be able to get comfortable.”
He took it and tapped it once. “Thanks.”
An immediate tingle filtered through his bloodstream. She was right; it didn’t make him groggy, but he wasn’t going to risk a second shot. Not until after he got to see Callie.
The nurse pulled back the fabric, and his breath hitched.
“Hey,” Callie whispered.
“Hey yourself.” His pulse increased, and it showed on the monitor as it beeped a little faster. “You look like shit.”
She chuckled. “You look a hell of a lot better than the last time I saw you.” She inched closer.
He patted the side of the gurney.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“It will hurt me if I don’t at least get to hold your hand.”
She smiled, easing herself to the side of the bed, barely resting her ass against the mattress. “I hope I did the right thing.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I thought you wanted me to tackle her, but now I’m not so sure.”
He chuckled, but it was cut short by the pain. He clutched his chest. “You did exactly what I wanted. I just didn’t expect the gun to discharge, and I thought Jenna was closer.”
“You knew she was there?”
“I could see the patrol car through the trees behind you. Kara couldn’t see it. My calculations were a little off though.” He took in a slow breath, trying not to breathe too deep because it fucking hurt. He took her hand and gasped. “Have I been asleep for three months?” He ran his finger over the diamond shining bright on her hand.
“Oh. Well, that’s the only way the hospital would let me in to see you. Immediate family only.”
The corners of his mouth tugged into a smile. “But you put it on, and you told me you wanted more than three months. You said you wanted a lifetime.” He lifted her hand and kissed her ring finger. “When I saw Kara holding that gun to your head, I thought my heart stopped.”
“It almost did,” she said.
He arched a brow. “That’s really not funny.”
“I know. Sorry, but you know how I get when you get all mushy and shit.”
“I love you, Callie. I never stopped, and I want you in my life always
. I’m not asking for you to say yes right now, but I am asking—”
“Yes,” she said, tears rolling down her cheeks. “I want to marry you.”
“You do?” He tilted his head. “You’re not going to make me grovel and beg?”
She leaned over and pressed her warm lips against his. “No. But I do have a condition.”
“Oh shit. Here it comes,” he said, lifting the pain med controls. “Do I need to fill myself full of drugs for this?”
“You might,” she said. “A while back you mentioned writing the book with me. Did you mean it?”
“Oh, that.” He groaned as he lifted his hand and cupped her cheek, pulling her closer, feeling her hot breath on his skin. “Can I be the chief of police and co-write your book?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Then you’ll marry me?” he asked as if they both needed it to be official.
“Yes.” She kissed him tenderly, resting her hand on his chest.
He moaned and not in a good way.
“Fuck, sorry.” She bolted to a sitting position.
“No worries. It was worth it,” he said, trying not to laugh because that would just make it worse.
“I should go so the rest of your family can come visit.” She kissed his forehead and headed toward the curtain.
“Callie?”
She paused and glanced over her shoulder. “Yes?”
He smiled, letting out a long breath. “I love you.”
“I love you right back.”
Epilogue
Three months later…
Jag rolled his wedding ring. How the world had changed in such a short period of time. He leaned against the railing of the front porch and blew into his coffee. He’d been married for less than twenty-four hours, and he was about to embark on a honeymoon to Hawaii.
He’d always wanted to go there but just never bothered. Not even to visit his brother, who came home often enough.
Of course, Jag just didn’t take time off work unless forced. But the one time that happened, he wallowed in self-pity. A trip to Hawaii wouldn’t have allowed him to do that.
The front door rattled and out walked his beautiful bride.
