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Abbey walked back around to the front of the room, keeping the gun pointed at Matt the whole way. "The knife?" she asked.

Matt tossed the knife to the side of the room, thus relinquishing his only weapon. He eyed the blade as it lay on the carpet, glinting red in the light of Abbey's bedroom.

She stepped in front of him and squatted down, bringing her face level to his, and poked the pistol into his chest. Her shoulder where he'd shot her was wrapped with a bandage that had started to bleed through already. She wouldn't be using that arm for a while. From this vantage point, he could see that the rotten green patch had spread all the way to her chest. It disappeared under her shirt, leaving Matt to wonder how far it went. If she took off her shirt, would he see her ribs? He decided he didn't want to know, but it did bring up an interesting question.

"How did you hide them?" he asked.

"The sores?" Abbey replied. "It's easy. Live long enough and you'll figure it out," she finished with a mischievous wink. Matt knew what it meant. He wouldn't live long enough to figure out what to have for breakfast tomorrow, let alone how a person could hide sores.

Abby reached up and grabbed his chin, forcing him to look her in the face. "So, did you miss me, baby?" she asked.

"Doesn't look like it," Matt replied, nodding towards her shoulder.

Abbey smiled, revealing a mouth full of blackened gums and rotting teeth. "Clever," she said. Then she leaned in close so she could whisper in his ear. "But you shouldn't have done that. I was going to let you live."

"Bullshit."

Abbey pulled away, a wounded expression on her face. "It's true. I thought we were kindred spirits. Soul mates, even. Even though you went running after Brad like some goddamn knight in shining armor. Why? To save that whore wife of his? She deserved it. She's been fucking everything that moves for years. But even then I thought I could change your outlook, given enough time. Then you shot me. I could have dealt with you being a white hat, but I draw the line at letting you get away with shooting me."

"I don't believe you."

"Who gives a fuck what you believe?" she said. Then she turned to Annie. "Okay, sweetheart, did you choose? Head or gut?"

"Gut," Annie said without a moment's hesitation.

Matt groaned.

"Gut it is," Abbey said. She lifted the revolver and pointed it at Annie, who stared back in shock and fear.

"What are you—"

The sound of two shots fired in rapid succession cut her off, and her question turned into a howl of pain as two slugs tore into her abdomen. Her left arm and leg were still tied to the bedposts, preventing her from curling into a fetal position, but she slapped her right hand on to her belly in a vain attempt to hold her life's blood inside her ruptured gut. She stared at Abbey, her face a mixture of pain and confusion, and started to babble incoherently. The words were too garbled for Matt to make them out, but the meaning was clear.

"Hey, don't blame me." Abbey shrugged. "You're the one who picked gut." Then she pointed the gun back at Matt. "I've got two bullets left," she said. "Before I kill you, I think I owe you one."

She pointed the gun at Matt's shoulder and fired. The sound rang through the small room like thunder, and Matt screamed as fire punched him in the shoulder and stayed there to burn. He brought his hand up to stem the flow of blood and gasped in pain.

Being shot fucking hurt!

"Smarts a bit, doesn't it?" Abbey said, chuckling.

"Fuck off."

"You deserve it. You shot me first."

Matt wanted to point out that she'd almost blasted him to bloody bits outside long before he'd shot her but didn't figure it would do any good.

Abbey squatted down in front of him again and shook her head. "Such a waste," she said. "We've been waiting for you, you know."

"Why me?"

"Not you specifically. A drifter. Someone who doesn't belong. Someone no one would trust. Why do you think Annie worked that shitty-ass job? She's been keeping her eyes peeled for someone like you to come along. We were beginning to give up hope. When you stepped into the restaurant, with your line about 'just passing through,' she almost jumped for joy. She couldn't wait to tell me about you."

"I don't understand," Matt replied.

"Yes, you do."

"He probably doesn't," came a familiar voice from out in the hall. Mr. Dark stepped into the bedroom, a red lollipop in his mouth and a hideous grin on his face. "He's really quite simple, you know."

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Matt stared at Mr. Dark for a few heartbeats, then looked back to Abbey and shook his head. "Is anything you've told me true?"

"Oh, don't look so surprised," Abbey said. "You should listen to him sometime. He's brilliant. Hell, he's been around forever and knows just about everything there is to know. He even knows a lot about you, Matt. In fact, he told me you'd never go for this."

"I sure did," Mr. Dark said. "Did I call that one, or what?"

"Yes, you did," she said, then looked back at Matt. "Like I said. It's a shame."

"Go for what?" Then Matt understood. The van, the escalation of the attacks, the fake divorce, even killing Annie. "You're leaving," he said. "And you wanted me to come with you."

Mr. Dark smiled again, and Abbey leaned over and kissed Matt on the forehead. A loud, wet smack that made him want to wipe his brow. Her lips felt like a pair of rotting leeches. The last thing he wanted was to die with any of her goop on him.

"If you hadn't shot me, I'd be fucking your brains out right now," Abbey said, much to Mr. Dark's amusement. "I hope you remember that."

Matt stared at the gun in her hand. The gun with only one bullet left. It had his fingerprints all over it. When forensics pulled the bullets out of Annie's gut and Matt's skull, they would be a match. He doubted there would even be much of an investigation. Here he was, a drifter, who just happened to come through town and fuck a local cop's wife. All Abbey had to do now was finish off Dale. Then, with the cop dead and the wife missing, they would look at Matt as the prime suspect.

He thought about his call to the police. He'd asked for Dale and refused to talk to the receptionist. That would look bad. The local police would think he and Annie set the whole thing up to kill Dale, but something had gone wrong. Still, it didn't quite add up, and Matt knew why.

"But you shot Dale with the shotgun," Matt said. "My prints aren't on that."

"Nope," Abbey agreed, "but soon hers will be." She nodded to Annie, who grunted a weak reply. "Sorry, sweetheart. It would have been gut no matter what you picked. I needed you to stay alive long enough to grip the shotgun." Abbey winked.

"Fuuuuuuh yooooo," Annie wheezed.

"Not likely," Abbey replied, then turned her attention back to Matt. "Your prints are all over that knife," she said. "That'll be interesting. Especially when the police match it to eight of the Blake County Killer's victims. You'll be famous all over again."

"But what about you? When they don't find you here, they'll know you were part of this."

"Oh, they'll find my body in a few weeks. It'll be floating down Black Creek. One last victim of the Blake County Killer. They might be surprised to find it with a full set of ID, but at least that should make it easier for them, since they won't be able to identify the face."

By then no one would even be looking for it. Matt knew how small towns worked. He grew up in one. He was just a drifter. No one knew him, but by tomorrow morning half the town would swear they'd seen him around the last few years but never thought anything about it. He'd be found guilty post mortem, and that would be it. Then Abbey would find another partner in another city and start all over again, this time with help from Mr. Dark.