“No, wait-”
I ended the call and moved inside in a low crouch, deliberately leaving the door open for a fast exit.
As I passed through the kitchen, I saw Edie. Her back was to me, and she was standing in front of a closed door. I crouched down and hid behind the wall that separated the small dining area from the hallway where she was standing. She paused, her left hand on the doorknob. As I watched her, I noticed that the right side of her sweatshirt was sagging. It pinged a vague alarm in my head.
She turned the knob and opened the door slowly, then took two steps inside. As she reached into her right pocket, I finally realized what that sagging pocket meant. Without thinking, I launched out of my hiding place and sprang toward her. I shouted, “Stop!” just as she pulled out the gun. Startled, she turned toward me, and I rammed into her. The momentum sent us both flying. As we crashed to the floor, the gun went off. The sound of the shot exploded through the house.
I heard Brent scream from the far side of the room. If he jumped into the fray to help her, I’d be dead meat. I had to get that gun. I looked up, hoping she’d dropped it when we fell. No such luck. It was still in her hand. But she’d reached up to break her fall. Her arms were still outstretched. I jumped on top of her and tried to jam my forearm into her neck as I reached for the gun, but she twisted away and threw me off. I saw her start to bring her arm down, putting the gun into firing range. In desperation, I slammed my body into her. She fell back, but she still had the gun. I tried to grab her arm, but my hands were now slick with sweat. They slipped off as she yanked her arm away.
I latched onto her again and pulled myself up, toward the hand that held the gun. She tried to push me back and make room to put the gun between us so she could fire at me, but I held on. As I reached up again to grab the gun, she tried to slam it down on my head. I pulled away at the last second, but I didn’t dare let go of her. The blow landed hard on my neck. The force of it choked my windpipe, and I saw stars. Brent shouted something, but I couldn’t make out what he was saying. Was he calling to Edie? Frantic now, I clawed at her face. She screamed as my fingers found her eye sockets. Finally, I managed to seize the hand that held the gun. I banged it hard, once, twice, three times. Her hand flew open, and the gun skittered across the floor.
I had one hand jammed against Edie’s throat and the other latched onto her flailing arm. I was about to climb over her to get the gun when I heard footsteps pounding toward the bedroom. Alex pulled me away. In one deft move, he flipped her over, yanked her arms together, and zip-tied her hands behind her.
When I stood up, I saw that Brent was staring down at Edie, his face white. His whole body was shaking. He spoke in a voice that was choked, hoarse. “You-you were going to kill me? Why? I’ve done everything for you-”
Edie, seated on the floor, struggled against Alex’s restraining arm as she whipped her head back and forth. She let out a shriek that sounded like a crazed animal and bucked against Alex, her eyes wild, features twisted in a snarling grimace. Alex shoved her to the floor, facedown. I turned to look at Brent, trying to make sense of what he’d said. “You killed Paige and Chloe… for her?”
Brent’s gaze was fixed on Edie, his face slack, numb. “No. But I…” His face crumpled. “Edie, why? I never would have-”
Edie screamed, “He did it! He did it all! He killed Storm!”
“To protect you, Edie!” Brent shook his head as tears filled his eyes. His voice was choked. “Because I love you!”
I looked from Brent to Edie. And realized I’d had it all wrong. I began to put it together. “Brent?” His eyes briefly flicked up at me, then settled back on Edie. “When Aubrey called you that night, he said Paige was freaking out. He wanted you to go calm her down, keep her from calling the cops. But you never went, did you?” Brent shook his head. “Probably not the first mess you had to clean up for him, was it?” Brent didn’t answer. But he didn’t have to. I knew I was right. “You told Edie you weren’t going to do it again-”
His gaze still fixed on Edie, Brent broke in. “He wasn’t worth it, Edie. He wasn’t good enough for you. Why couldn’t you see that? He doesn’t love you. I do! I’m the one who loves you!”
Edie was breathing hard, but she was silent. I pressed on. “So she went instead. Did you know she’d killed those girls?”
Brent’s body sagged as he shook his head. “Not at first. She told me no one answered the door. But after Storm came out and said…”
Said that we knew Paige was the target, Edie saw it was all about unravel, so she told Brent he had to stop us. “Did Aubrey tell you the real reason why Paige was freaking out?”
Brent finally looked at me, his expression confused. “He got in a hassle with some guy. Paige was coked up, acting crazy.”
I shook my head. “No. It was because he’d just killed that guy. And Paige saw it all.” Brent’s mouth opened, his lips moved, but no words came out. And that told me even more. If Brent didn’t know, neither did Edie. “So Edie went there thinking Paige was just another affair. She’d go talk Paige down, maybe promise her a little hush money.” I looked at Edie, who’d gone quiet. “Isn’t that right, Edie?”
Edie glared at me with a crazed expression; then she gave her body a violent twist, arching her back in an effort to break free from Alex’s grip. Alex tightened his arm around her neck and she stopped, her chest heaving. She spoke in a low growl. “That fucking whore! She would’ve called the cops! After all those years of sucking it up, looking the other way, eating his shit, his lies. All for nothing-because of that stupid little piece of trash? No! No way in hell!”
Edie began to sob. It was a harsh, ragged sound-ugly and raw.
Brent watched her, the agony on his face like a gaping wound.
At that moment, I heard heavy footsteps running along the side of the house. The cavalry was here. Edie, lost in her collapsing world of misery, didn’t seem to notice. But Brent did. And as he looked up, I saw something shift in his expression. Before I could figure out what it meant, Brent lunged across the room and grabbed the gun off the floor. Tears streaming down his face, he raised the gun, his eyes fixed on Edie.
I reached out to him and screamed, “Brent! No!”
But Brent never even looked up. He stared down at Edie as in one swift move, he put the gun to his head and pulled the trigger.
The blast rattled the windows. Wet clumps of blood and brains splashed the walls. I stood staring, unable to speak, my hand still reaching toward him. Tomas and his men came running in; their heavy footsteps echoed like thunder in the small house. Then, in the distance, I heard the thin wail of sirens.
SIXTY-THREE
I must’ve been in shock for a little while, because I wound up on the couch in Brent’s living room with no memory of walking to it. The paramedics checked me out and said I was “basically okay,” but told me I should go to the hospital “just as a precaution.” I politely declined. Well, not all that politely.
It’d been hard to put together any coherent thoughts at first, but Detective Wayne Little wanted a statement now, so we did our best. We knew Brent had killed Storm, so it wasn’t a big leap to surmise that he’d set the fire in my office and broken into my apartment, too. Wayne thought they might find prints in my apartment to prove it. And he was hoping they’d find evidence in Brent’s house to link him to the fire as well.