"Slau_0440335574_oeb_c16_r1" - читать интересную книгу автора (Slaughter Karin - [Grant County 05] - Faithless (html))

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Lena’s heart thumped in her throat, a constant pulse that made it hard to speak.

“Don’t do anything until I get there,” Jeffrey ordered. “Hide Rebecca. Don’t let him see her.”

“What if—”

“No fucking what-ifs, Detective. Do as I say.”

Lena glanced at Rebecca, saw the terror in the girl’s eyes. She could end this right now— throw Paul to the floor, take the bastard into custody. Then what? They’d never get a confession out of the lawyer. He’d be laughing all the way to the grand jury, where they’d dismiss the case for lack of evidence.

Jeffrey said, “Am I being clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Keep Rebecca safe,” he ordered. “She’s our only witness. That’s your job right now, Lena. Don’t fuck this up.” The phone clicked loudly as he disconnected.

Terri was at the front window, calling out Paul’s movements. “He’s in the garage,” she whispered. “He’s in the garage.”

Lena grabbed Rebecca by the arm, pulling her into the foyer. “Go upstairs,” she ordered, but the frightened girl wouldn’t budge.

Terri said, “He’s going around the back. Oh, God, hurry!” She ran down the hall so that she could follow his progress.

“Rebecca,” Lena said, willing the girl to move. “We need to go upstairs.”

“What if he . . .” Rebecca began. “I can’t . . .”

“He’s in the shed,” Terri called. “Becca, please! Go!”

“He’ll be so mad,” Rebecca whimpered. “Oh, Lord, please . . .”

Terri’s voice trilled. “He’s coming toward the house!”

“Rebecca,” Lena tried again.

Terri ran back into the hall, pushing Rebecca as Lena tugged the girl toward the stairs.

“Mommy!” Tim grabbed onto his mother, wrapping his arms around her leg.

Terri’s voice was stern when she told her son, “Go upstairs now.” She spanked Tim on the bottom when he didn’t move quickly enough.

The back door opened and they all froze as Paul called, “Terri?”

Tim was at the top of the stairs, but Rebecca stood frozen in fear, breathing like a wounded animal.

“Terri?” Paul repeated. “Where the hell are you?” Slowly, his footsteps traveled through the kitchen. “Christ, this place is a mess.”

Using all her strength, Lena picked up Rebecca, half carrying, half dragging the girl up the stairs. By the time she reached the top, she was out of breath, her insides feeling like they had been ripped in two.

“I’m here!” Terri called to her uncle, her shoes making clicking noises across the tile foyer as she walked back to the kitchen. Lena heard muffled voices as she pushed Rebecca and Tim into the closest room. Too late she realized they were in the nursery.

In the crib, the baby gurgled. Lena waited for him to wake up and cry. What seemed like an hour passed before the child turned his head away and settled back to sleep.

“Oh, Lord,” Rebecca whispered, praying.

Lena put her hand over the girl’s mouth, carefully walking her toward the closet with Tim in tow. For the first time, Rebecca seemed to understand, and she slowly opened the door, her eyes squeezed shut as she waited for a noise that would alert Paul to their presence. Nothing came, and she slid to the floor, grabbing Tim in her arms and hiding behind a stack of winter blankets.

Softly, Lena clicked the door closed, holding her breath, waiting for Paul to come rushing in. She could barely hear him speaking over the pounding of her own heart, but suddenly his heavy footsteps echoed up the stairs.

“This place is a pigsty,” Paul said, and she could hear him knocking things over as he went through the house. Lena knew the house was spotless, just like she knew Paul was being an asshole. “Jesus Christ, Terri, you back on coke again? Look at this mess. How can you raise your children here?”

Terri mumbled a reply, and Paul screamed, “Don’t back-talk me!” He was in the tiled foyer now, his voice booming up the stairs like a roll of thunder. Carefully, Lena tiptoed to the wall opposite the nursery, flattening herself against it, listening to Paul yell at Terri. Lena waited another beat, then slid to her left, edging toward the stair landing so she could peer downstairs and see what was going on. Jeffrey had told her to wait, to hide Rebecca until he got there. She should stay back in the room, keep the kids quiet, make sure they were safe.

Lena held her breath, inching closer to the stairs, chancing a look.

Paul’s back was to her. Terri stood directly in front of him.

Lena slid back behind the corner, her heart beating so hard she could feel the artery thumping in the side of her neck.

“When’s he going to be back?” Paul demanded.

“I don’t know.”

“Where’s my medallion?”

“I don’t know.”

She had given him this same answer to all of his questions, and Paul finally snapped, “What do you know, Terri?”

She was silent, and Lena looked downstairs again to make sure she was still there.

“He’ll be back soon,” Terri said, her eyes flicking up to Lena. “You can wait for him in the garage.”

“You want me out of the house?” he asked. Lena quickly pulled back as Paul turned around. “Why’s that?”

Lena put her hand to her chest, willing her heart to slow. Men like Paul had an almost animal instinct. They could hear through walls, see everything that went on. She looked at her watch, trying to calculate how much time had passed since she had called Jeffrey. He was at least fifteen minutes away, even if he came with lights and siren blaring.

Paul said, “What’s going on, Terri? Where’s Dale?”

“Out.”

“Don’t get smart with me.” Lena heard a loud popping noise, flesh against flesh. Her heart stopped in her chest.

Terri said, “Please. Just wait in the garage.”

Paul’s tone was conversational. “Why don’t you want me in the house, Terri?”

Again, there was the popping noise. Lena did not have to look to know what was happening. She knew the sickening sound, knew it was an open-handed smack, just as she knew exactly what it felt like on your face.

There was a sound from the nursery, Rebecca or Tim shifting in the closet, and a floorboard creaked. Lena closed her eyes, frozen. Jeffrey had ordered her to wait, to protect Rebecca. He hadn’t given her any instructions on what to do if Paul found them.

Lena opened her eyes. She knew exactly what she would do. Carefully, she slid her gun out of its holster, aiming it at the space above the open landing. Paul was a big man. All Lena had in her favor was the element of surprise, and she wasn’t going to give that up for anything. She could almost taste the triumph she’d feel when Paul turned that corner, expecting to see a frightened child but finding a Glock shoved in his smug face.

“It’s just Tim,” Terri insisted, downstairs.

Paul said nothing, but Lena heard footsteps on the wooden stairs. Slow, careful footsteps.

“It’s Tim,” Terri repeated. The footsteps stopped. “He’s sick.”

“Your whole family’s sick,” Paul taunted, pounding his shoe onto the next stair; his Gucci loafer that could pay the mortgage on this small house for a month. “It’s because of you, Terri. All those drugs you did, all that fucking around. All those blow jobs, all those ass fuckings. I bet the jism’s rotting you from the inside out.”

“Stop it.”

Lena cupped the gun in her hand, holding it straight out in front of her, pointing it at the open landing as she waited for him to get to the top so she could shut him the fuck up.

“One of these days,” he began, taking another step. “One of these days, I’m going to have to tell Dale.”

“Paul—”

“How do you think he’s going to feel knowing he’s put his dick in all that?” Paul asked. “All that come just swirling around inside you.”

“I was sixteen!” she sobbed. “What was I going to do? I didn’t have a choice!”

“And now your kids are sick,” he said, obviously pleased by her distress. “Sick with what you did. Sick with all that disease and filth inside you.” His tone made Lena’s stomach tighten with hate. She felt the urge to make some kind of noise that would get him up here faster. The gun felt hot in her hand, ready to explode as soon as he passed into her line of vision.

He continued to climb the stairs, saying, “You were nothing but a fucking whore.”

Terri did not respond.

“And you’re still turning tricks?” he said, coming closer. Just another few steps and he would be there. His words were so hateful, so familiar. He could be Ethan talking to Lena. Ethan coming up the stairs to beat the shit out of her.

“You think I don’t know what you needed that money for?” Paul demanded. He had stopped about two steps from the top, so close that Lena could smell his flowery cologne. “Three hundred fifty bucks,” he said, slapping the stair railing as if he was telling some kind of joke. “That’s a lot of money, Ter. What’d you use all that money for?”

“I said I’d pay you back.”

“Pay me back when you can,” he said, as if he was her old friend instead of tormentor. “Tell me what it was for, Genie. I was only trying to help you.”

Lena gritted her teeth, watching his shadow linger on the landing. Terri had asked Paul for the money to pay the clinic. He must have made her grovel for it, then kicked her in the teeth before she left.

“What’d you need it for?” Paul asked, his steps receding down the stairs now that he had found an easier prey. In her head, Lena was screaming for him to come back, but a few seconds later she heard his shoes hit the tile in the foyer with a loud bang as if he had jumped down the last steps in glee. “What’d you need it for, whore?” Terri didn’t respond and he slapped her again, the noise pounding in Lena’s ears. “Answer me, whore.”

Terri’s voice was weak. “I used it to pay the hospital bills.”

“You used it to carve out that baby inside you.”

Terri made a wheezing noise. Lena dropped the gun to her side, her eyes squeezing shut at the sound of the other woman’s grief.

“Abby told me,” he said. “She told me everything.”

“No.”

“She was real worried about her cousin Terri,” he continued. “Didn’t want her to go to hell for what she was going to do. I promised her I’d talk to you about it.” Terri said something and Paul laughed. Lena pivoted around the corner, gun raised, aiming at Paul’s back as he struck Terri across the cheek again, this time so hard that she fell to the floor. He grabbed her up, spinning her around just as Lena hid herself back behind the corner.

Lena closed her eyes again, her head playing back in slow motion what she had just seen. He had reached down to grab Terri, yanking her up as he spun toward the stairs. There was a bulge under his jacket. Was he carrying a gun? Did he have a weapon on him?

Paul’s tone was one of disgust. “Get up, you whore.”

“You killed her,” Terri accused. “I know you killed Abby.”

“Watch your mouth,” he warned.

“Why?” Terri begged. “Why would you hurt Abby?”

“She did it to herself,” he said. “Y’all should know better by now than to piss off ol’ Cole.” Lena waited for Terri to say something, to tell him that he was worse than Cole, that he had directed everything, put the idea in Cole’s head that the girls needed to be punished.

Terri was silent, though, and the only thing Lena heard was the refrigerator kicking on in the kitchen. She peered around the corner just as Terri found her voice.

“I know what you did to her,” she said, and Lena cursed the woman’s brazenness. Of all the times for Terri to develop a backbone, this was not it. Jeffrey would be here soon, maybe in another five minutes.

Terri said, “I know you gave her the cyanide. Dale told you how to use it.”

“So?”

“Why?” Terri asked. “Why would you kill Abby? She never did anything to you. All she ever did was love you.”

“She was a bad girl,” he said, as if that was reason enough. “Cole knew that.”

“You told Cole,” Terri said. “Don’t think I don’t know how that works.”

“How what works?”

“How you tell him we’re bad,” she said. “You put all these terrible ideas into his head, and he goes out and punishes us.” Her laugh was caustic. “Funny how God never tells him to punish the boys. You ever been in that box, Paul? You ever get buried for seeing your whores in Savannah and snorting your coke?”

Paul’s tone was a snarl. “‘Go, see now this cursed woman and bury her— ’ ”

“Don’t you dare throw the scriptures at me.”

“‘She hath rebelled against her God,’ ” he quoted. “‘They shall fall by the sword.’ ”

Terri obviously knew the verse. Her anger curdled the air. “Shut up, Paul.”

“‘Their infants shall be dashed in pieces . . . Their women with child shall be ripped up.’ ”

“‘Even the Devil can quote scripture for his cause.’ ”

He laughed, as if she had scored a point off him.

She said, “You lost your religion a million years ago.”

“You’re one to talk.”

“I don’t go around pretending it ain’t true,” she retorted, her tone getting stronger, sharper. This was the woman who had hit Dale back. This was the woman who had dared to defend herself. “Why did you kill her, Paul?” She waited, then asked, “Was it because of the insurance policies?”

Paul’s back stiffened. He hadn’t been threatened by Terri’s mention of the cyanide, but Lena guessed that the insurance policies added a whole new level to the equation.

He asked, “What do you know about that?”

“Abby told me about them, Paul. The police know.”

“What do they know?” He grabbed her arm, twisting it. Lena felt her body tense. She raised her Glock again, waiting for the right moment. “What did you tell them, you little idiot?”

“Let go of me.”

“I’ll take your head off, you stupid bitch. Tell me what you told the police.”

Lena startled as Tim came out of nowhere, running past her, nearly tumbling down the stairs to get to his mother. Lena reached for the boy and missed, pulling herself back at the last minute so that Paul wouldn’t see her.

“Mama!” the child screamed.

Terri made a surprised sound, then Lena heard her say, “Tim, go back upstairs. Mama’s talking to Uncle Paul.”

“Come here, Tim,” Paul said, and Lena’s stomach lurched as his little feet tapped their way down the stairs.

“No—” Terri protested; then: “Tim, come away from him.”

“Come on, big guy,” Paul said, and Lena chanced a quick look. Paul was holding Tim in his arms, the child’s legs wrapped around his waist. Lena pulled back, knowing if Paul turned around he would see her. She mouthed “Fuck,” cursing herself for not taking the shot when she could. Across the hall, she glimpsed Rebecca in the nursery, reaching out to pull the closet door shut. In Lena’s mind, she cursed even harder, damning the girl for her inability to hold on to the boy.

Lena glanced into the foyer, trying to assess the situation. Paul’s back was still to her, but Tim clung tightly to him, his spindly little arm hooked around Paul’s shoulders as he watched his mother. At this distance, there was no telling what kind of damage her nine-millimeter would do. The bullet could rip through Paul’s body and go right into Tim’s. She could kill the child instantly.

“Please,” Terri said, and Paul could have been holding her own life in his hands the way she was acting. “Let him go.”

“Tell me what you told the police,” Paul said.

“Nothing. I didn’t tell them anything.”

Paul didn’t buy it. “Did Abby leave those policies with you, Terri? Is that what she did?”

“Yes,” Terri said, her voice trembling. “I’ll give them to you. Please, just let him go.”

“You get them now and then we’ll talk.”

“Please, Paul. Let him go.”

“Go get the policies.”

Terri was obviously not a practiced liar. When she said, “They’re in the garage,” Lena knew Paul saw right through her. Still, he said, “Go get them. I’ll watch Tim.”

Terri must have hesitated, because Paul raised his voice, saying, “Now!” so loudly that Terri screamed. When he spoke again, his tone was back to normal, and somehow to Lena it was more frightening. “You’ve got thirty seconds, Terri.”

“I don’t—”

“Twenty-nine . . . twenty-eight . . .”

The front door slammed open and she was gone. Lena stood utterly still, her heart thumping like a drum.

Downstairs, Paul spoke as if he was talking to Tim, but made sure his voice was loud enough to carry. “You think your aunt Rebecca’s upstairs, Tim?” he asked, cheerful, almost teasing. “Why don’t we go see if your aunt Rebecca’s up there, huh? See if she’s hiding out like the little rat she is . . .”

Tim made a noise Lena couldn’t understand.

“That’s right, Tim,” Paul said, like they were playing a game. “We’ll go up and talk to her, and then we’ll beat her face. You like that, Tim? We’ll beat her face until her bones crack. We’ll make sure Aunt Becca’s pretty little face is so broken that no one ever wants to look at it again.”

Lena listened, waiting for him to climb the stairs so that she could blow his head off his shoulders. He did not. Obviously, this taunting was part of the game for him. Even knowing this, the dread that filled her at the sound of his voice could not be stopped. She wanted so badly to hurt him, to shut him up forever. No one should ever have to hear him again.

The door opened and slammed shut. Terri was out of breath, her words tumbling over one another. “I couldn’t find them,” she said. “I looked—”

Fuck, Lena thought. Dale’s gun. No.

Paul said, “You’ll forgive me if I’m not surprised.”

“What are you going to do?” Terri’s voice was still shaking, but there was something underneath the fear, some hidden knowledge that gave her power. She must have gotten the revolver. She must have thought she could do something to stop him.

Tim said something and Paul laughed. “That’s right,” he agreed, then told Terri, “Tim thinks his aunt Rebecca is up there.”

Lena heard another sound, this time a click. She recognized it instantly— a hammer being pulled back on a gun.

Paul was surprised, but hardly alarmed. “Where’d you get that?”

“It’s Dale’s,” she said, and Lena felt her gut clench. “I know how to use it.”

Paul laughed as if the gun was made of plastic. Lena peered over the top of the stairs, watching him walk toward Terri. She had missed her chance. He had the kid now. She should have confronted him on the stairs. She should have taken him then. Why the fuck had she listened to Jeffrey? She should’ve just swung around the corner and emptied her gun into the bastard’s chest.

Paul said, “There’s a big difference between knowing how to use a gun and actually using it,” and Lena felt the cut to his words, hating herself for her indecision. Goddamn Jeffrey and his orders. She knew how to handle herself. She should’ve listened to her gut in the first place.

Terri said, “Just get out, Paul.”

“You gonna use that thing?” he asked. “Maybe you’ll hit Tim?” He was teasing her like it was a game. “Come on. See what kind of shot you are.” Lena could see him clearly, closing the space between him and Terri, Tim in his arms. He was actually jostling the child, goading his niece. “Come on, Genie, let’s see you do it. Shoot your own baby. You’ve already killed one, right? What’s another?”

Terri’s hands were shaking. She had the gun up in front of her, legs spread apart, palm supporting the butt of the revolver. Her determination seemed to falter more with every step he took closer.

“You stupid whore,” he taunted. “Go on, shoot me.” He was only a foot away from her. “Pull the trigger, little girl. Show me how tough you are. Stand up for yourself for once in your pathetic little life.” Finally, he reached out and grabbed the gun from her, saying, “You stupid bitch.”

“Let him go,” she pleaded. “Just let him go and leave.”

“Where are those papers?”

“I burned them.”

“You lying slut!” He slammed the revolver into her left cheek. Terri fell to the floor, blood sloshing out of her mouth.

Lena felt her own teeth start to ache as if Paul had hit her and not Terri. She had to do something. She had to stop this. Without thinking, she went to her knees, then flattened her chest to the floor. Procedure said she should identify herself, give Paul the opportunity to drop the gun. She knew there was no chance he would surrender. Men like Paul didn’t give up if they thought there was a chance of escape. Right now, he had two chances: one on his hip, the other on the floor.

Lena angled her body across the hall, placing herself at the top of the landing, gripping her gun in both hands, resting the butt on the edge of the stair.

“Now, now,” Paul said. His back was to Lena as he stood over Terri, Tim’s legs wrapped around his waist. She couldn’t tell where the boy’s body was, could not line up the shot and know with 100 percent certainty that she would not hit the child, too.

“You’re upsetting your son here.” Tim was silent. He had probably watched his mother get the shit beaten out of her so many times before that it no longer penetrated.

Paul said, “What did you tell the police?”

Terri had her hands out in front of her as once more Paul lifted his foot to kick her. “No!” she screamed as his Italian loafer came down on her face. Again, she slammed into the floor, the air going out of her with a painful groan that cut Lena to the core.

Again, Lena sighted the gun, her hands steady as she tried to line up the shot. If Paul would just stop moving. If Tim would just slide down a little bit more, she could end all of this now. He had no idea Lena was at the top of the stairs. Paul would be on the ground before he knew what hit him.

Paul said, “Come on, Terri.” Even though Terri made no move to rise, he picked up his foot again and smashed it into her back. Terri’s mouth opened, breath groaning out.

“What did you tell them?” he repeated, his mantra. Lena saw him move the revolver to Tim’s head and she lowered her own gun, knowing she could not take the risk. “You know I’ll shoot him. You know I will blow his little brains all over this house.”

Terri struggled to her knees. She clasped her hands in front of her, a supplicant, praying, “Please, please. Let him go. Please.”

“What did you tell them?”

“Nothing,” she said. “Nothing!”

Tim had started to cry, and Paul shushed him, saying, “Be quiet now, Tim. Be a strong man for Uncle Paul.”

“Please,” Terri begged.

Lena saw a movement out of the corner of her eye. Rebecca stood in the doorway of the nursery, poised on the threshold. Lena shook her head once, then, when the girl did not move, she hardened her expression, waving her back in forceful pantomime.

When Lena turned back to the foyer, she saw that Tim had buried his face in the crook of Paul’s shoulder. The boy’s body stiffened as he looked up and saw Lena at the top of the stairs, her gun pointing down. Their eyes locked.

Without warning, Paul whirled around, revolver raised, and fired a shot that went straight toward her head.

Terri screamed at the explosion, and Lena rolled to the side, hoping to God she was out of the line of fire as another shot rang through the house. There was a splintering of wood as the front door burst open, followed by Jeffrey’s “Don’t move!” but Lena heard it as if from a great distance, the sound of the bullet ringing in her ear. She wasn’t sure whether it was sweat or blood that dribbled down the side of her cheek as she looked back over the stairs. Jeffrey was standing in the foyer, his gun pointed at the lawyer. Paul still held Tim tight to his chest, the revolver trained at the boy’s temple.

“Let him go,” Jeffrey ordered, his eyes darting up to Lena.

Lena put her hand to her head, recognized the sticky feel of blood. Her ear was covered in it, but she couldn’t feel any pain.

Terri was crying, keening, as she held her hands to her stomach, begging Paul to release her child. She sounded as if she was praying.

Jeffrey told Paul, “Lower your gun.”

“Not going to happen,” he quipped.

“You’ve got nowhere to go,” Jeffrey said, again looking up at Lena. “We’ve got you surrounded.”

Paul let his gaze follow Jeffrey’s. Lena made an attempt to stand, but vertigo got the best of her. She settled back onto her knees, her gun down at her side. She couldn’t keep her eyes focused.

Paul said calmly, “Looks like she needs help.”

“Please,” Terri pleaded, almost in her own world. “Please, just let him go. Please.”

“There’s no way out of this for you,” Jeffrey said. “Drop the gun.”

Lena tasted something metallic in her mouth. She put her hand to her head again, testing her scalp. She didn’t feel anything alarming, but her ear started to throb. Gently, she tested the cartilage until she found out what was causing the blood. The top part of her earlobe was missing, maybe a quarter of an inch. The bullet must have grazed her.

She sat up on her knees, blinking, trying to clear her vision. Terri was looking at her, almost drilling a hole into her, eyes begging Lena to do something to stop this.

“Help him,” she implored. “Please help my baby.”

Lena wiped a trickle of blood out of her eye, finally seeing what the bulge under Paul’s jacket was. A cell phone. The bastard had a cell phone clipped to his belt.

“Please,” Terri begged. “Lena, please.”

Lena pointed her gun at Paul’s head, feeling a searing hatred burn her throat as she told him, “Drop it.”

Paul swung around, taking Tim with him. He looked up at Lena, gauging the situation. She could tell part of him didn’t believe a woman could actually threaten him, and this made her hate him even more.

She made her voice a deadly threat. “Drop it, you bastard.”

For the first time, he looked nervous.

“Drop the gun,” Lena repeated, keeping her hand steady as she rose to her feet. If she could have been sure of her shot, she would’ve killed him there and then, unloaded her magazine into his head until there was nothing but a stump of spine sticking out.

Jeffrey said, “Do it, Paul. Drop the gun.”

Slowly, Paul lowered his gun, but instead of letting it fall to the ground, he trained it on Terri’s head. He knew they wouldn’t shoot him as long as he had Tim as a shield. Pointing the gun at Terri was just one more way to assert his control over the situation.

He said, “I think y’all should take your own advice.”

Terri sat there on the floor, her hands reaching out to her son. She pleaded, “Don’t hurt him, Paul.” Tim tried to go to his mother but Paul held him tight. “Please don’t hurt him.”

Paul backed toward the front door, saying, “Put down your guns. Now.”

Jeffrey watched him, not doing anything for several beats. Finally, he put his weapon on the floor and held up his hands, showing they were empty. “Backup’s on the way.”

“Not fast enough,” he guessed.

Jeffrey said, “Don’t do this, Paul. Just leave him here.”

“So you can follow me?” Paul sneered, shifting Tim on his hip. The child had realized what was going on and his breath was coming hard, like he was having trouble getting air. Paul kept moving closer to the door, oblivious to the boy’s pain. “I don’t think so.” He looked up at Lena. “Your turn, Detective.”

Lena waited for Jeffrey’s nod before crouching down to place her gun on the floor. She stayed low, keeping close to the weapon.

Tim’s breathing was more labored, and he started making a whooping sound as he struggled to inhale.

“It’s okay,” Terri whispered, inching toward him, crawling on her knees. “Just breathe, baby. Just try to breathe.”

Paul edged toward the front door, keeping his eye on Jeffrey, thinking he was the real threat. Lena took a few steps down the stairs, not knowing what she would do if she reached the bottom. She wanted to tear him apart with her hands, hear him scream with agony as she ripped into him.

“It’s okay, baby,” Terri crooned, crawling on her knees toward them. She reached out, touching her son’s foot with the tips of her fingers. The boy was gasping in earnest now, his thin chest heaving. “Just breathe.”

Paul was almost out the door. He told Jeffrey, “Don’t try to follow me.”

Jeffrey said, “You’re not going to take that kid.”

“Watch me.”

He made to leave, but Terri held Tim’s foot in the palm of her hand, keeping them both in place. Paul pressed the gun to her forehead. “Get back,” Paul warned, and Lena froze on the stair, unsure who he was talking to. She took another step as Paul warned Terri, “Move away.”

“His asthma—”

“I don’t care,” Paul barked. “Move away.”

“Mama loves you,” Terri whispered over and over, oblivious to Paul’s threat as she clung to Tim’s foot. “Mama loves you so much—”

“Shut up,” Paul hissed. He tried to pull away, but Terri held on tight, wrapping her hand around Tim’s leg to get a better grip. Paul raised the revolver, slamming the butt of it down on her head.

Jeffrey grabbed up his gun in one fluid motion, pointing it at Paul’s chest. “Stop right there.”

“Baby,” Terri said. She had staggered, but remained on her knees, holding on to Tim’s leg. “Mama’s here, baby. Mama’s here.”

Tim was turning blue, his teeth chattering as if he was cold. Paul tried to pull him away from his mother, but she held on, telling her son, “‘. . . my grace is sufficient for thee . . .’ ”

“Let go.” Paul tried to jerk him back, but still she would not release her son. “Terri—” Paul looked panicked, as if some kind of rabid animal had clamped on to him. “Terri, I mean it.”

“‘. . . my strength is made perfect in weakness . . .’ ”

“Let go, goddammit!” Again, Paul raised the gun, striking her even more savagely. Terri fell back, but she reached out with her other hand, grabbing on to Paul’s shirt, pulling it as she struggled to stay upright.

Jeffrey had his gun on Paul, but even this close, he couldn’t risk a shot. The boy was in the way. His problem was the same as Lena’s. An inch too far and he’d end up killing him.

“Terri,” Lena tried, as if she could somehow help. She had reached the bottom stair, but all she could do was watch as Terri held on to Tim, her bleeding forehead pressed to his leg. The boy’s eyelids flickered. His lips were blue, his face a ghostly white as his lungs strained for air.

Jeffrey warned, “Stop right there, Paul.”

“‘When I am weak,’ ” Terri whispered, “‘then am I strong.’ ”

Paul struggled to pull away, but Terri maintained her hold, clutching on to the waist of his pants. Paul raised the gun higher and brought it down, but Terri tilted her head up at the last minute. The gun glanced off her cheek, hitting her collarbone, slipping in Paul’s hand. A single bullet fired straight up into Terri’s face. The woman staggered again, somehow keeping herself upright as she held on to Paul and her boy. There was a gaping hole in her jaw, fragmented bone hanging down. Blood poured out of the open wound, splattering onto the tiled floor, and the injured woman reflexively tightened her grip on Paul’s shirt, bloody handprints streaking the white.

“No,” Paul said, stumbling back, trying to get away from her. He was horrified at what he was seeing, his expression showing a mixture of fear and revulsion. In shock, he let go of the gun and almost dropped Tim as he fell against the porch railing.

Terri kept her tight grip on Paul, using all her remaining strength to hold on. Blood wicked onto his shirt as she pulled him down to the ground, falling on top of him. She kept pulling at his shirt, pulling herself up toward her son. Tim’s skin was deadly white, his eyes closed. Terri put her head on Tim’s back, the pulverized side of her face turned away from her son.

Jeffrey kicked the revolver away from Paul’s hand, then slid the child out from under his mother. He laid Tim flat on the ground and started to give him CPR. “Lena,” he said, then yelled, “Lena!”

She startled out of her trance, her body working on autopilot as she snapped open her phone and called an ambulance. She knelt beside Terri, putting her fingers to the woman’s neck. There was a faint pulse, and Lena smoothed back her hair from her shattered face, saying, “You’re going to be okay.”

Paul tried to move out from under her, but Lena snarled, “If you so much as breathe, I’ll kill you.”

Paul nodded, his lips trembling as he looked down in horror at Terri’s head in his lap. He had never killed this close before, had always shielded himself from the dirty reality of his deeds. The bullet had torn through the side of Terri’s face, exiting out of the base of her neck. Black dots were burned into the skin from the powder burns. Her left cheek was shredded, her tongue visible through the damage. Fractured bone mingled with blood and gray matter. Fragments of her back molars were stuck in her hair.

Lena put her face close to Terri’s, saying, “Terri? Terri, just hang on.”

Terri’s eyes fluttered open. She took shallow breaths, struggling to speak.

“Terri?”

Lena could see her tongue moving inside her mouth, the white bone shaking from the effort.

“It’s okay,” Lena soothed. “Help is on the way. Just hang on.”

Her jaw worked slowly, labored with the desperate effort of speaking. She couldn’t enunciate, her mouth would not cooperate. It seemed to take everything out of her to say, “I . . . did it.”

“You did it,” Lena assured her, grabbing her hand, careful not to jostle her. Spinal injuries were tricky: the higher up, the more damage. She didn’t even know if Terri could feel her, but she had to hold on to something.

Lena said, “I’ve got your hand, Terri. Don’t let go.”

Jeffrey muttered, “Come on, Tim,” and she heard him counting, pressing the boy’s chest, trying to make his heart beat.

Terri’s breathing slowed. Her eyelids flickered again. “I . . . did . . . it.”

“Terri?” Lena asked. “Terri?”

“Breathe, Tim,” Jeffrey urged. He took a breath of his own and forced it into the boy’s slackened mouth.

Bubbles of bright red blood popped on Terri’s wet lips. There was a gurgling sound in her chest, a fluid look to her features.

“Terri?” Lena begged, holding on to her hand, trying to press life back into her. She heard a siren in the distance, calling like a beacon. Lena knew it was backup; the ambulance couldn’t get there this quickly. Still, she lied.

“Hear that?” Lena asked, gripping Terri’s hand as tightly as she could. “The ambulance is on the way, Terri.”

“Come on, Tim,” Jeffrey coaxed. “Come on.”

Terri blinked, and Lena knew she could hear the wail of the siren, knew help was coming. She exhaled sharply. “I . . . did . . .”

“One-one-thousand, two-one-thousand,” Jeffrey said, counting the compressions.

“I . . . di . . .”

“Terri, talk to me,” Lena pleaded. “Come on, girl. What did you do? Tell me what you did.”

She struggled to speak, giving a weak cough, spraying a fine mist of blood into Lena’s face. Lena stayed there, stayed close to her, tried to keep eye contact so that she would not go.

“Tell me,” Lena said, searching her eyes for something, some sign that she would be okay. She just needed to keep her talking, keep her holding on. “Tell me what you did.”

“I—”

“You what?”

“I—”

“Come on, Terri. Don’t let go. Don’t give up now.” Lena heard the cruiser screech to a halt in the drive. “Tell me what you did.”

“I . . .” Terri began. “I . . . got . . .”

“What did you get?” Lena felt hot tears on her cheeks as Terri’s grip slackened around her own. “Don’t let go, Terri. Tell me what you got.”

Her lip curled, a spasm almost, as if she wanted to smile but no longer knew how.

“What did you get, Terri? What did you get?”

“I . . . got . . .” She coughed out another spray of blood. “. . . away.”

“That’s it,” Jeffrey said as Tim gasped, taking his first breath of air. “That’s great, Tim. Just breathe.”

A stream of blood flowed from the corner of Terri’s mouth, forming a solid line down her cheek like a child’s bright crayon trailing across a page. What was left of her jaw went slack. Her eyes were glassy.

She was gone.

Lena left the police station around nine that evening, feeling like she hadn’t been home in weeks. Her body felt weak, every muscle sore as if she’d run a thousand miles. Her ear was still numb from the shot they had given her at the hospital so they could suture up the damage Paul’s bullet had done. Her hair would cover the missing bit, but Lena knew that every time she looked in a mirror, every time she touched the scar, she would remember Terri Stanley, the look on her face, that almost-smile as she slipped away.

Even though there wasn’t a visible sign of it, Lena felt like she still had some of Terri’s blood on her— in her hair, under her fingernails. No matter what she did, she could still smell it, taste it, feel it. It was heavy, like guilt, and tasted of bitter defeat. She had not helped the woman. She had done nothing to protect her. Terri had been right— they were both drowning in the same ocean.

Her cell phone rang as she turned into her neighborhood, and Lena checked the caller ID, praying like hell Jeffrey didn’t need her back at the station. She squinted at the number, not recognizing it. Lena let the phone ring a few more times before it suddenly came to her. Lu Mitchell’s number. She had almost forgotten it after all these years.

She nearly dropped the phone trying to open it, then cursed as she put it up to her injured ear. Lena switched it around, saying, “Hello?” There was no response, and her heart dropped, thinking the call had gone to her voice mail.

She was about to end the connection when Greg said, “Lee?”

“Yeah,” she said, trying not to sound breathless. “Hey. How’s it going?”

“I heard on the news about the woman,” he said. “Were you there?”

“Yeah,” she told him, wondering how long it had been since someone asked her about work. Ethan was too self-centered and Nan was too squeamish.

“Are you okay?”

“I watched her die,” Lena told him. “I just held her hand and watched her die.”

She heard his breathing over the line and thought about Terri, the way her last breaths had sounded.

He told her, “It’s good that she had you there.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“No,” he disagreed. “It’s good that she had someone with her.”

Before she could stop herself, she said, “I’m not a very good person, Greg.”

Again, all she could hear was his breathing.

“I’ve made some really bad mistakes.”

“Everybody has.”

“Not like me,” she said. “Not the ones I have.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She wanted more than anything else to talk about it, to tell him everything that had happened, to shock him with the ugly details. She couldn’t, though. She needed him too badly, needed to know he was just down the street, holding his mama’s yarn while Lu knitted him another ugly scarf.

“So,” Greg said, and Lena strained to fill the silence.

“I’m enjoying the CD.”

His tone went up. “You got it?”

“Yeah,” she told him, forcing some cheer into her voice. “I really like that second song.”

“It’s called ‘Oldest Story in the World.’ ”

“I’d know that if you’d written down the titles.”

“That’s why you go out and buy the CD for yourself, you goof.” She had forgotten what it was like to be teased, and Lena felt some of the weight that had been on her chest start to lighten.

He continued, “The liner notes are great. Lots of pictures of the girls. Ann looks so damn hot.” He gave a self-deprecating chuckle. “I wouldn’t kick Nancy out of bed, either, but you know I like dark-haired women.”

“Yeah.” She felt herself smiling, too, and wished that they could talk like this forever, that she wouldn’t have to think about Terri dying in front of her, or of Terri’s children being abandoned by the one person in the world who could protect them. Now all they would have was Dale— Dale and the fear of being killed like their mama.

She forced this out of her brain, saying, “The twelfth song is good, too.”

“That’s ‘Down the Nile,’ ” he told her. “Since when do you like ballads?”

“Since . . .” She didn’t know since when. “I don’t know. I just like it.” She had pulled into the driveway behind Nan’s Toyota.

“‘Move On’ is cool,” Greg was saying, but she didn’t really follow. The porch light had turned on. Ethan’s bike was leaning against the front stairs.

“Lee?”

Her smile was gone. “Yeah?”

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” she breathed, her mind reeling. What was Ethan doing in the house? What was he doing with Nan?

“Lee?”

She swallowed hard, making herself speak. “I need to go, Greg. Okay?”

“Is something wrong?”

“No,” she lied, feeling like her heart might explode in her chest. “Everything’s fine. I just can’t talk now.” She hung up before he could respond, dropping the phone in the seat beside her, opening the door with a hand that refused to be steady.

Lena wasn’t sure how she made it up the steps, but she found herself with her hand on the doorknob, her palms slick and sweaty. She took a breath, opening the door.

“Hi!” Nan popped up from the chair where she had been sitting, moving behind it as if she needed a shield. Her eyes were wide, her voice unnaturally high. “We were just waiting for you. Oh, my God! Your ear!” She put her hand to her mouth.

“It’s better than it looks.”

Ethan was on the couch, his arm across the back, his legs open in a hostile stance that managed to take up the entire room. He didn’t speak, but he didn’t have to. The threat of him seeped out of every pore.

“Are you okay?” Nan insisted. “Lena? What happened?”

Lena said, “There was a situation,” keeping her eyes on Ethan.

“They didn’t say much of anything on the news,” Nan said. She was edging toward the kitchen, almost giddy from stress. Ethan stayed where he was, his jaw in a tight line, his muscles flexed. Lena saw his book bag beside his feet and wondered what he had in there. Something heavy, probably. Something to beat her with.

Nan offered, “Would you like some tea?”

“That’s okay,” Lena told her, then said to Ethan, “Let’s go to my room.”

“We could play some cards, Lee.” Nan’s voice wavered. She was obviously alarmed, and she stood her ground. “Why don’t we all play some cards?”

“That’s okay,” Lena answered, knowing she had to do everything in her power to keep Nan out of harm’s way. Lena had brought this on herself, but Nan would not be hurt because of it. She owed that to Sibyl. She owed that to herself.

Nan tried, “Lee?”

“It’s okay, Nan.” Again, she told Ethan, “Let’s go to my room.”

He didn’t move at first, letting her know he was in charge of the situation. When he got up, he took his time, stretching his arms in front of him, faking a yawn.

Lena turned her back to him, ignoring the show. She went into her room and sat on the bed, waiting, praying that he would leave Nan alone.

Ethan sauntered into her bedroom, eyeing her suspiciously. “Where you been?” he asked, shutting the door with a soft click. He gripped his book bag in one hand, keeping his arms at his side.

She shrugged. “Work.”

He dropped the bag with a solid clunk onto the floor. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

“You shouldn’t come here,” she told him.

“That so?”

“I would’ve called you.” She lied, “I was going to come by later.”

“You bent the rim on my front tire,” he said. “It cost me eighty bucks to get a new one.”

She stood, going to the bureau. “I’ll pay you back,” she said, opening the top drawer. She kept her money in an old cigar box. Beside it was a black plastic case that held a Mini-Glock. Nan’s father was a cop and after Sibyl had been murdered, he had insisted his daughter take the gun. Nan had given it to Lena, and Lena had put it in the drawer as a backup. At night, her service weapon was always on the bedside table, but knowing the other Glock was in the drawer, sitting in the unlocked plastic case, was the only reason she was able to go to sleep.

She could take the gun now. She could take it and use it and finally get Ethan out of her life.

“What are you doing?” he demanded.

Lena took out the cigar box and slid the drawer closed. She put the box on top of the dresser and opened the lid. Ethan’s large hand reached in front of her, closing back the lid.

He was standing behind her, his body barely touching hers. She felt the whisper of his breath on the back of her neck when he said, “I don’t want your money.”

She cleared her throat so that she could speak. “What do you want?”

He took another step closer. “You know what I want.”

She could feel his cock harden as he pressed it against her ass. He put his hands on either side of her, resting them on top of the dresser, trapping her.

He said, “Nan wouldn’t tell me who CD-boy is.”

Lena bit her lip, feeling the sting as she drew blood. She thought about Terri Stanley when they had knocked on her door this morning, the way she had held her jaw rigid as she talked to keep her lip from breaking open. Terri would never have to do that again. She would never again lie awake at night, wondering what Dale was going to do next. She would never have to be afraid.

Ethan started rubbing against her. The sensation made her feel sick. “Me and Nan had a real good talk.”

“Leave Nan alone.”

“You want me to leave her alone?” His hand snaked around, grabbing her breast so hard she had to sink her teeth into the flesh of her lip to keep from crying out. “This is mine,” he reminded her. “You hear me?”

“Yes.”

“Nobody touches you but me.”

Lena closed her eyes, willing herself not to scream as his lips brushed against her neck.

“I’ll kill anybody who touches you.” He tightened his fist around her breast as if he wanted to rip it off. “One more dead body don’t mean shit to me,” he hissed. “You hear?”

“Yes.” Her heart thudded once in her chest, then she could no longer feel it beating. She had felt numb with fear, but just as suddenly, she felt nothing.

Slowly, Lena turned around. She saw her hands come up, not to slap him but to tenderly cup his face. She felt light-headed, dizzy, as if she were somewhere else in the room, watching herself with Ethan. When her lips met his, she felt nothing. His tongue had no taste. His callused fingers as he pushed his hand down the front of her pants brought no sensation.

On the bed, he was rougher than ever before, pinning her down, somehow more angry that she wasn’t resisting. Through it all, Lena still felt apart from herself, even as he pushed into her like a blade slicing through her insides. She was aware of the pain as she was aware of her breathing; a fact, an uncontrollable process through which her body survived.

Ethan finished quickly and Lena lay there feeling like she had been marked by a dog. He rolled onto his back, breathing hard, satisfied with himself. It wasn’t until she heard the steady low snore of his sleep that Lena felt her senses slowly begin to return. The smell of his sweat. The taste of his tongue. The sticky wetness between her legs.

He hadn’t used a condom.

Lena carefully rolled onto her side, feeling what he had left drain out of her. She watched the clock slowly mark the time, first minutes, then hours. One hour. Two. She waited until three hours had passed before she rose from the bed. She held her breath, listening for a change in the cadence of Ethan’s breathing as she crouched to the floor.

She moved slowly, as if through water, sliding open the top drawer of her bureau, taking out the black plastic case. She sat on the floor, her back to Ethan, holding her breath as she unsnapped the lock. The noise filled the room like a gunshot. She tried not to gasp as Ethan shifted in bed. Lena closed her eyes, fighting panic as she waited for his hand on her back, his fingers wrapped around her throat. She turned her head, looking over her shoulder.

He was on his side, facing away from her.

The weapon was loaded, a round from the magazine already chambered. She cradled the gun in her hands, feeling it grow heavier and heavier until she let her hands drift to her lap. A smaller version of her service weapon, the Mini could do just as much damage up close. Lena closed her eyes again, feeling the mist of blood Terri had sprayed into her face, hearing her last words, almost triumphant: I got away.

Lena stared at the gun, the black metal cold against her hands. She turned to make sure Ethan was still sleeping.

His book bag was on the floor where he had dropped it. She gritted her teeth as she opened the zipper, the sound reverberating in her chest. The bag was a nice one, Swiss Army, with several large pockets and plenty of storage. Ethan kept everything in the bag— his wallet, his books for school, even some gym clothes. He wouldn’t notice a couple of extra pounds.

Lena reached into the bag, unzipping the large rear compartment that snaked around the inside of the bag. There were pencils in there, some pens, but nothing else. She hid the gun inside and pulled the zip closed, leaving the bag on the floor.

Moving backward, she crawled to the bed, using her hands to lift herself up, then inch by inch lowering herself down beside Ethan.

He exhaled, almost a snort, and rolled over, his arm flopping across her chest. Lena turned her head to see the clock, counting away the minutes until the alarm would go off, until Ethan would be out of her life forever.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Lena’s heart thumped in her throat, a constant pulse that made it hard to speak.

“Don’t do anything until I get there,” Jeffrey ordered. “Hide Rebecca. Don’t let him see her.”

“What if—”

“No fucking what-ifs, Detective. Do as I say.”

Lena glanced at Rebecca, saw the terror in the girl’s eyes. She could end this right now— throw Paul to the floor, take the bastard into custody. Then what? They’d never get a confession out of the lawyer. He’d be laughing all the way to the grand jury, where they’d dismiss the case for lack of evidence.

Jeffrey said, “Am I being clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Keep Rebecca safe,” he ordered. “She’s our only witness. That’s your job right now, Lena. Don’t fuck this up.” The phone clicked loudly as he disconnected.

Terri was at the front window, calling out Paul’s movements. “He’s in the garage,” she whispered. “He’s in the garage.”

Lena grabbed Rebecca by the arm, pulling her into the foyer. “Go upstairs,” she ordered, but the frightened girl wouldn’t budge.

Terri said, “He’s going around the back. Oh, God, hurry!” She ran down the hall so that she could follow his progress.

“Rebecca,” Lena said, willing the girl to move. “We need to go upstairs.”

“What if he . . .” Rebecca began. “I can’t . . .”

“He’s in the shed,” Terri called. “Becca, please! Go!”

“He’ll be so mad,” Rebecca whimpered. “Oh, Lord, please . . .”

Terri’s voice trilled. “He’s coming toward the house!”

“Rebecca,” Lena tried again.

Terri ran back into the hall, pushing Rebecca as Lena tugged the girl toward the stairs.

“Mommy!” Tim grabbed onto his mother, wrapping his arms around her leg.

Terri’s voice was stern when she told her son, “Go upstairs now.” She spanked Tim on the bottom when he didn’t move quickly enough.

The back door opened and they all froze as Paul called, “Terri?”

Tim was at the top of the stairs, but Rebecca stood frozen in fear, breathing like a wounded animal.

“Terri?” Paul repeated. “Where the hell are you?” Slowly, his footsteps traveled through the kitchen. “Christ, this place is a mess.”

Using all her strength, Lena picked up Rebecca, half carrying, half dragging the girl up the stairs. By the time she reached the top, she was out of breath, her insides feeling like they had been ripped in two.

“I’m here!” Terri called to her uncle, her shoes making clicking noises across the tile foyer as she walked back to the kitchen. Lena heard muffled voices as she pushed Rebecca and Tim into the closest room. Too late she realized they were in the nursery.

In the crib, the baby gurgled. Lena waited for him to wake up and cry. What seemed like an hour passed before the child turned his head away and settled back to sleep.

“Oh, Lord,” Rebecca whispered, praying.

Lena put her hand over the girl’s mouth, carefully walking her toward the closet with Tim in tow. For the first time, Rebecca seemed to understand, and she slowly opened the door, her eyes squeezed shut as she waited for a noise that would alert Paul to their presence. Nothing came, and she slid to the floor, grabbing Tim in her arms and hiding behind a stack of winter blankets.

Softly, Lena clicked the door closed, holding her breath, waiting for Paul to come rushing in. She could barely hear him speaking over the pounding of her own heart, but suddenly his heavy footsteps echoed up the stairs.

“This place is a pigsty,” Paul said, and she could hear him knocking things over as he went through the house. Lena knew the house was spotless, just like she knew Paul was being an asshole. “Jesus Christ, Terri, you back on coke again? Look at this mess. How can you raise your children here?”

Terri mumbled a reply, and Paul screamed, “Don’t back-talk me!” He was in the tiled foyer now, his voice booming up the stairs like a roll of thunder. Carefully, Lena tiptoed to the wall opposite the nursery, flattening herself against it, listening to Paul yell at Terri. Lena waited another beat, then slid to her left, edging toward the stair landing so she could peer downstairs and see what was going on. Jeffrey had told her to wait, to hide Rebecca until he got there. She should stay back in the room, keep the kids quiet, make sure they were safe.

Lena held her breath, inching closer to the stairs, chancing a look.

Paul’s back was to her. Terri stood directly in front of him.

Lena slid back behind the corner, her heart beating so hard she could feel the artery thumping in the side of her neck.

“When’s he going to be back?” Paul demanded.

“I don’t know.”

“Where’s my medallion?”

“I don’t know.”

She had given him this same answer to all of his questions, and Paul finally snapped, “What do you know, Terri?”

She was silent, and Lena looked downstairs again to make sure she was still there.

“He’ll be back soon,” Terri said, her eyes flicking up to Lena. “You can wait for him in the garage.”

“You want me out of the house?” he asked. Lena quickly pulled back as Paul turned around. “Why’s that?”

Lena put her hand to her chest, willing her heart to slow. Men like Paul had an almost animal instinct. They could hear through walls, see everything that went on. She looked at her watch, trying to calculate how much time had passed since she had called Jeffrey. He was at least fifteen minutes away, even if he came with lights and siren blaring.

Paul said, “What’s going on, Terri? Where’s Dale?”

“Out.”

“Don’t get smart with me.” Lena heard a loud popping noise, flesh against flesh. Her heart stopped in her chest.

Terri said, “Please. Just wait in the garage.”

Paul’s tone was conversational. “Why don’t you want me in the house, Terri?”

Again, there was the popping noise. Lena did not have to look to know what was happening. She knew the sickening sound, knew it was an open-handed smack, just as she knew exactly what it felt like on your face.

There was a sound from the nursery, Rebecca or Tim shifting in the closet, and a floorboard creaked. Lena closed her eyes, frozen. Jeffrey had ordered her to wait, to protect Rebecca. He hadn’t given her any instructions on what to do if Paul found them.

Lena opened her eyes. She knew exactly what she would do. Carefully, she slid her gun out of its holster, aiming it at the space above the open landing. Paul was a big man. All Lena had in her favor was the element of surprise, and she wasn’t going to give that up for anything. She could almost taste the triumph she’d feel when Paul turned that corner, expecting to see a frightened child but finding a Glock shoved in his smug face.

“It’s just Tim,” Terri insisted, downstairs.

Paul said nothing, but Lena heard footsteps on the wooden stairs. Slow, careful footsteps.

“It’s Tim,” Terri repeated. The footsteps stopped. “He’s sick.”

“Your whole family’s sick,” Paul taunted, pounding his shoe onto the next stair; his Gucci loafer that could pay the mortgage on this small house for a month. “It’s because of you, Terri. All those drugs you did, all that fucking around. All those blow jobs, all those ass fuckings. I bet the jism’s rotting you from the inside out.”

“Stop it.”

Lena cupped the gun in her hand, holding it straight out in front of her, pointing it at the open landing as she waited for him to get to the top so she could shut him the fuck up.

“One of these days,” he began, taking another step. “One of these days, I’m going to have to tell Dale.”

“Paul—”

“How do you think he’s going to feel knowing he’s put his dick in all that?” Paul asked. “All that come just swirling around inside you.”

“I was sixteen!” she sobbed. “What was I going to do? I didn’t have a choice!”

“And now your kids are sick,” he said, obviously pleased by her distress. “Sick with what you did. Sick with all that disease and filth inside you.” His tone made Lena’s stomach tighten with hate. She felt the urge to make some kind of noise that would get him up here faster. The gun felt hot in her hand, ready to explode as soon as he passed into her line of vision.

He continued to climb the stairs, saying, “You were nothing but a fucking whore.”

Terri did not respond.

“And you’re still turning tricks?” he said, coming closer. Just another few steps and he would be there. His words were so hateful, so familiar. He could be Ethan talking to Lena. Ethan coming up the stairs to beat the shit out of her.

“You think I don’t know what you needed that money for?” Paul demanded. He had stopped about two steps from the top, so close that Lena could smell his flowery cologne. “Three hundred fifty bucks,” he said, slapping the stair railing as if he was telling some kind of joke. “That’s a lot of money, Ter. What’d you use all that money for?”

“I said I’d pay you back.”

“Pay me back when you can,” he said, as if he was her old friend instead of tormentor. “Tell me what it was for, Genie. I was only trying to help you.”

Lena gritted her teeth, watching his shadow linger on the landing. Terri had asked Paul for the money to pay the clinic. He must have made her grovel for it, then kicked her in the teeth before she left.

“What’d you need it for?” Paul asked, his steps receding down the stairs now that he had found an easier prey. In her head, Lena was screaming for him to come back, but a few seconds later she heard his shoes hit the tile in the foyer with a loud bang as if he had jumped down the last steps in glee. “What’d you need it for, whore?” Terri didn’t respond and he slapped her again, the noise pounding in Lena’s ears. “Answer me, whore.”

Terri’s voice was weak. “I used it to pay the hospital bills.”

“You used it to carve out that baby inside you.”

Terri made a wheezing noise. Lena dropped the gun to her side, her eyes squeezing shut at the sound of the other woman’s grief.

“Abby told me,” he said. “She told me everything.”

“No.”

“She was real worried about her cousin Terri,” he continued. “Didn’t want her to go to hell for what she was going to do. I promised her I’d talk to you about it.” Terri said something and Paul laughed. Lena pivoted around the corner, gun raised, aiming at Paul’s back as he struck Terri across the cheek again, this time so hard that she fell to the floor. He grabbed her up, spinning her around just as Lena hid herself back behind the corner.

Lena closed her eyes again, her head playing back in slow motion what she had just seen. He had reached down to grab Terri, yanking her up as he spun toward the stairs. There was a bulge under his jacket. Was he carrying a gun? Did he have a weapon on him?

Paul’s tone was one of disgust. “Get up, you whore.”

“You killed her,” Terri accused. “I know you killed Abby.”

“Watch your mouth,” he warned.

“Why?” Terri begged. “Why would you hurt Abby?”

“She did it to herself,” he said. “Y’all should know better by now than to piss off ol’ Cole.” Lena waited for Terri to say something, to tell him that he was worse than Cole, that he had directed everything, put the idea in Cole’s head that the girls needed to be punished.

Terri was silent, though, and the only thing Lena heard was the refrigerator kicking on in the kitchen. She peered around the corner just as Terri found her voice.

“I know what you did to her,” she said, and Lena cursed the woman’s brazenness. Of all the times for Terri to develop a backbone, this was not it. Jeffrey would be here soon, maybe in another five minutes.

Terri said, “I know you gave her the cyanide. Dale told you how to use it.”

“So?”

“Why?” Terri asked. “Why would you kill Abby? She never did anything to you. All she ever did was love you.”

“She was a bad girl,” he said, as if that was reason enough. “Cole knew that.”

“You told Cole,” Terri said. “Don’t think I don’t know how that works.”

“How what works?”

“How you tell him we’re bad,” she said. “You put all these terrible ideas into his head, and he goes out and punishes us.” Her laugh was caustic. “Funny how God never tells him to punish the boys. You ever been in that box, Paul? You ever get buried for seeing your whores in Savannah and snorting your coke?”

Paul’s tone was a snarl. “‘Go, see now this cursed woman and bury her— ’ ”

“Don’t you dare throw the scriptures at me.”

“‘She hath rebelled against her God,’ ” he quoted. “‘They shall fall by the sword.’ ”

Terri obviously knew the verse. Her anger curdled the air. “Shut up, Paul.”

“‘Their infants shall be dashed in pieces . . . Their women with child shall be ripped up.’ ”

“‘Even the Devil can quote scripture for his cause.’ ”

He laughed, as if she had scored a point off him.

She said, “You lost your religion a million years ago.”

“You’re one to talk.”

“I don’t go around pretending it ain’t true,” she retorted, her tone getting stronger, sharper. This was the woman who had hit Dale back. This was the woman who had dared to defend herself. “Why did you kill her, Paul?” She waited, then asked, “Was it because of the insurance policies?”

Paul’s back stiffened. He hadn’t been threatened by Terri’s mention of the cyanide, but Lena guessed that the insurance policies added a whole new level to the equation.

He asked, “What do you know about that?”

“Abby told me about them, Paul. The police know.”

“What do they know?” He grabbed her arm, twisting it. Lena felt her body tense. She raised her Glock again, waiting for the right moment. “What did you tell them, you little idiot?”

“Let go of me.”

“I’ll take your head off, you stupid bitch. Tell me what you told the police.”

Lena startled as Tim came out of nowhere, running past her, nearly tumbling down the stairs to get to his mother. Lena reached for the boy and missed, pulling herself back at the last minute so that Paul wouldn’t see her.

“Mama!” the child screamed.

Terri made a surprised sound, then Lena heard her say, “Tim, go back upstairs. Mama’s talking to Uncle Paul.”

“Come here, Tim,” Paul said, and Lena’s stomach lurched as his little feet tapped their way down the stairs.

“No—” Terri protested; then: “Tim, come away from him.”

“Come on, big guy,” Paul said, and Lena chanced a quick look. Paul was holding Tim in his arms, the child’s legs wrapped around his waist. Lena pulled back, knowing if Paul turned around he would see her. She mouthed “Fuck,” cursing herself for not taking the shot when she could. Across the hall, she glimpsed Rebecca in the nursery, reaching out to pull the closet door shut. In Lena’s mind, she cursed even harder, damning the girl for her inability to hold on to the boy.

Lena glanced into the foyer, trying to assess the situation. Paul’s back was still to her, but Tim clung tightly to him, his spindly little arm hooked around Paul’s shoulders as he watched his mother. At this distance, there was no telling what kind of damage her nine-millimeter would do. The bullet could rip through Paul’s body and go right into Tim’s. She could kill the child instantly.

“Please,” Terri said, and Paul could have been holding her own life in his hands the way she was acting. “Let him go.”

“Tell me what you told the police,” Paul said.

“Nothing. I didn’t tell them anything.”

Paul didn’t buy it. “Did Abby leave those policies with you, Terri? Is that what she did?”

“Yes,” Terri said, her voice trembling. “I’ll give them to you. Please, just let him go.”

“You get them now and then we’ll talk.”

“Please, Paul. Let him go.”

“Go get the policies.”

Terri was obviously not a practiced liar. When she said, “They’re in the garage,” Lena knew Paul saw right through her. Still, he said, “Go get them. I’ll watch Tim.”

Terri must have hesitated, because Paul raised his voice, saying, “Now!” so loudly that Terri screamed. When he spoke again, his tone was back to normal, and somehow to Lena it was more frightening. “You’ve got thirty seconds, Terri.”

“I don’t—”

“Twenty-nine . . . twenty-eight . . .”

The front door slammed open and she was gone. Lena stood utterly still, her heart thumping like a drum.

Downstairs, Paul spoke as if he was talking to Tim, but made sure his voice was loud enough to carry. “You think your aunt Rebecca’s upstairs, Tim?” he asked, cheerful, almost teasing. “Why don’t we go see if your aunt Rebecca’s up there, huh? See if she’s hiding out like the little rat she is . . .”

Tim made a noise Lena couldn’t understand.

“That’s right, Tim,” Paul said, like they were playing a game. “We’ll go up and talk to her, and then we’ll beat her face. You like that, Tim? We’ll beat her face until her bones crack. We’ll make sure Aunt Becca’s pretty little face is so broken that no one ever wants to look at it again.”

Lena listened, waiting for him to climb the stairs so that she could blow his head off his shoulders. He did not. Obviously, this taunting was part of the game for him. Even knowing this, the dread that filled her at the sound of his voice could not be stopped. She wanted so badly to hurt him, to shut him up forever. No one should ever have to hear him again.

The door opened and slammed shut. Terri was out of breath, her words tumbling over one another. “I couldn’t find them,” she said. “I looked—”

Fuck, Lena thought. Dale’s gun. No.

Paul said, “You’ll forgive me if I’m not surprised.”

“What are you going to do?” Terri’s voice was still shaking, but there was something underneath the fear, some hidden knowledge that gave her power. She must have gotten the revolver. She must have thought she could do something to stop him.

Tim said something and Paul laughed. “That’s right,” he agreed, then told Terri, “Tim thinks his aunt Rebecca is up there.”

Lena heard another sound, this time a click. She recognized it instantly— a hammer being pulled back on a gun.

Paul was surprised, but hardly alarmed. “Where’d you get that?”

“It’s Dale’s,” she said, and Lena felt her gut clench. “I know how to use it.”

Paul laughed as if the gun was made of plastic. Lena peered over the top of the stairs, watching him walk toward Terri. She had missed her chance. He had the kid now. She should have confronted him on the stairs. She should have taken him then. Why the fuck had she listened to Jeffrey? She should’ve just swung around the corner and emptied her gun into the bastard’s chest.

Paul said, “There’s a big difference between knowing how to use a gun and actually using it,” and Lena felt the cut to his words, hating herself for her indecision. Goddamn Jeffrey and his orders. She knew how to handle herself. She should’ve listened to her gut in the first place.

Terri said, “Just get out, Paul.”

“You gonna use that thing?” he asked. “Maybe you’ll hit Tim?” He was teasing her like it was a game. “Come on. See what kind of shot you are.” Lena could see him clearly, closing the space between him and Terri, Tim in his arms. He was actually jostling the child, goading his niece. “Come on, Genie, let’s see you do it. Shoot your own baby. You’ve already killed one, right? What’s another?”

Terri’s hands were shaking. She had the gun up in front of her, legs spread apart, palm supporting the butt of the revolver. Her determination seemed to falter more with every step he took closer.

“You stupid whore,” he taunted. “Go on, shoot me.” He was only a foot away from her. “Pull the trigger, little girl. Show me how tough you are. Stand up for yourself for once in your pathetic little life.” Finally, he reached out and grabbed the gun from her, saying, “You stupid bitch.”

“Let him go,” she pleaded. “Just let him go and leave.”

“Where are those papers?”

“I burned them.”

“You lying slut!” He slammed the revolver into her left cheek. Terri fell to the floor, blood sloshing out of her mouth.

Lena felt her own teeth start to ache as if Paul had hit her and not Terri. She had to do something. She had to stop this. Without thinking, she went to her knees, then flattened her chest to the floor. Procedure said she should identify herself, give Paul the opportunity to drop the gun. She knew there was no chance he would surrender. Men like Paul didn’t give up if they thought there was a chance of escape. Right now, he had two chances: one on his hip, the other on the floor.

Lena angled her body across the hall, placing herself at the top of the landing, gripping her gun in both hands, resting the butt on the edge of the stair.

“Now, now,” Paul said. His back was to Lena as he stood over Terri, Tim’s legs wrapped around his waist. She couldn’t tell where the boy’s body was, could not line up the shot and know with 100 percent certainty that she would not hit the child, too.

“You’re upsetting your son here.” Tim was silent. He had probably watched his mother get the shit beaten out of her so many times before that it no longer penetrated.

Paul said, “What did you tell the police?”

Terri had her hands out in front of her as once more Paul lifted his foot to kick her. “No!” she screamed as his Italian loafer came down on her face. Again, she slammed into the floor, the air going out of her with a painful groan that cut Lena to the core.

Again, Lena sighted the gun, her hands steady as she tried to line up the shot. If Paul would just stop moving. If Tim would just slide down a little bit more, she could end all of this now. He had no idea Lena was at the top of the stairs. Paul would be on the ground before he knew what hit him.

Paul said, “Come on, Terri.” Even though Terri made no move to rise, he picked up his foot again and smashed it into her back. Terri’s mouth opened, breath groaning out.

“What did you tell them?” he repeated, his mantra. Lena saw him move the revolver to Tim’s head and she lowered her own gun, knowing she could not take the risk. “You know I’ll shoot him. You know I will blow his little brains all over this house.”

Terri struggled to her knees. She clasped her hands in front of her, a supplicant, praying, “Please, please. Let him go. Please.”

“What did you tell them?”

“Nothing,” she said. “Nothing!”

Tim had started to cry, and Paul shushed him, saying, “Be quiet now, Tim. Be a strong man for Uncle Paul.”

“Please,” Terri begged.

Lena saw a movement out of the corner of her eye. Rebecca stood in the doorway of the nursery, poised on the threshold. Lena shook her head once, then, when the girl did not move, she hardened her expression, waving her back in forceful pantomime.

When Lena turned back to the foyer, she saw that Tim had buried his face in the crook of Paul’s shoulder. The boy’s body stiffened as he looked up and saw Lena at the top of the stairs, her gun pointing down. Their eyes locked.

Without warning, Paul whirled around, revolver raised, and fired a shot that went straight toward her head.

Terri screamed at the explosion, and Lena rolled to the side, hoping to God she was out of the line of fire as another shot rang through the house. There was a splintering of wood as the front door burst open, followed by Jeffrey’s “Don’t move!” but Lena heard it as if from a great distance, the sound of the bullet ringing in her ear. She wasn’t sure whether it was sweat or blood that dribbled down the side of her cheek as she looked back over the stairs. Jeffrey was standing in the foyer, his gun pointed at the lawyer. Paul still held Tim tight to his chest, the revolver trained at the boy’s temple.

“Let him go,” Jeffrey ordered, his eyes darting up to Lena.

Lena put her hand to her head, recognized the sticky feel of blood. Her ear was covered in it, but she couldn’t feel any pain.

Terri was crying, keening, as she held her hands to her stomach, begging Paul to release her child. She sounded as if she was praying.

Jeffrey told Paul, “Lower your gun.”

“Not going to happen,” he quipped.

“You’ve got nowhere to go,” Jeffrey said, again looking up at Lena. “We’ve got you surrounded.”

Paul let his gaze follow Jeffrey’s. Lena made an attempt to stand, but vertigo got the best of her. She settled back onto her knees, her gun down at her side. She couldn’t keep her eyes focused.

Paul said calmly, “Looks like she needs help.”

“Please,” Terri pleaded, almost in her own world. “Please, just let him go. Please.”

“There’s no way out of this for you,” Jeffrey said. “Drop the gun.”

Lena tasted something metallic in her mouth. She put her hand to her head again, testing her scalp. She didn’t feel anything alarming, but her ear started to throb. Gently, she tested the cartilage until she found out what was causing the blood. The top part of her earlobe was missing, maybe a quarter of an inch. The bullet must have grazed her.

She sat up on her knees, blinking, trying to clear her vision. Terri was looking at her, almost drilling a hole into her, eyes begging Lena to do something to stop this.

“Help him,” she implored. “Please help my baby.”

Lena wiped a trickle of blood out of her eye, finally seeing what the bulge under Paul’s jacket was. A cell phone. The bastard had a cell phone clipped to his belt.

“Please,” Terri begged. “Lena, please.”

Lena pointed her gun at Paul’s head, feeling a searing hatred burn her throat as she told him, “Drop it.”

Paul swung around, taking Tim with him. He looked up at Lena, gauging the situation. She could tell part of him didn’t believe a woman could actually threaten him, and this made her hate him even more.

She made her voice a deadly threat. “Drop it, you bastard.”

For the first time, he looked nervous.

“Drop the gun,” Lena repeated, keeping her hand steady as she rose to her feet. If she could have been sure of her shot, she would’ve killed him there and then, unloaded her magazine into his head until there was nothing but a stump of spine sticking out.

Jeffrey said, “Do it, Paul. Drop the gun.”

Slowly, Paul lowered his gun, but instead of letting it fall to the ground, he trained it on Terri’s head. He knew they wouldn’t shoot him as long as he had Tim as a shield. Pointing the gun at Terri was just one more way to assert his control over the situation.

He said, “I think y’all should take your own advice.”

Terri sat there on the floor, her hands reaching out to her son. She pleaded, “Don’t hurt him, Paul.” Tim tried to go to his mother but Paul held him tight. “Please don’t hurt him.”

Paul backed toward the front door, saying, “Put down your guns. Now.”

Jeffrey watched him, not doing anything for several beats. Finally, he put his weapon on the floor and held up his hands, showing they were empty. “Backup’s on the way.”

“Not fast enough,” he guessed.

Jeffrey said, “Don’t do this, Paul. Just leave him here.”

“So you can follow me?” Paul sneered, shifting Tim on his hip. The child had realized what was going on and his breath was coming hard, like he was having trouble getting air. Paul kept moving closer to the door, oblivious to the boy’s pain. “I don’t think so.” He looked up at Lena. “Your turn, Detective.”

Lena waited for Jeffrey’s nod before crouching down to place her gun on the floor. She stayed low, keeping close to the weapon.

Tim’s breathing was more labored, and he started making a whooping sound as he struggled to inhale.

“It’s okay,” Terri whispered, inching toward him, crawling on her knees. “Just breathe, baby. Just try to breathe.”

Paul edged toward the front door, keeping his eye on Jeffrey, thinking he was the real threat. Lena took a few steps down the stairs, not knowing what she would do if she reached the bottom. She wanted to tear him apart with her hands, hear him scream with agony as she ripped into him.

“It’s okay, baby,” Terri crooned, crawling on her knees toward them. She reached out, touching her son’s foot with the tips of her fingers. The boy was gasping in earnest now, his thin chest heaving. “Just breathe.”

Paul was almost out the door. He told Jeffrey, “Don’t try to follow me.”

Jeffrey said, “You’re not going to take that kid.”

“Watch me.”

He made to leave, but Terri held Tim’s foot in the palm of her hand, keeping them both in place. Paul pressed the gun to her forehead. “Get back,” Paul warned, and Lena froze on the stair, unsure who he was talking to. She took another step as Paul warned Terri, “Move away.”

“His asthma—”

“I don’t care,” Paul barked. “Move away.”

“Mama loves you,” Terri whispered over and over, oblivious to Paul’s threat as she clung to Tim’s foot. “Mama loves you so much—”

“Shut up,” Paul hissed. He tried to pull away, but Terri held on tight, wrapping her hand around Tim’s leg to get a better grip. Paul raised the revolver, slamming the butt of it down on her head.

Jeffrey grabbed up his gun in one fluid motion, pointing it at Paul’s chest. “Stop right there.”

“Baby,” Terri said. She had staggered, but remained on her knees, holding on to Tim’s leg. “Mama’s here, baby. Mama’s here.”

Tim was turning blue, his teeth chattering as if he was cold. Paul tried to pull him away from his mother, but she held on, telling her son, “‘. . . my grace is sufficient for thee . . .’ ”

“Let go.” Paul tried to jerk him back, but still she would not release her son. “Terri—” Paul looked panicked, as if some kind of rabid animal had clamped on to him. “Terri, I mean it.”

“‘. . . my strength is made perfect in weakness . . .’ ”

“Let go, goddammit!” Again, Paul raised the gun, striking her even more savagely. Terri fell back, but she reached out with her other hand, grabbing on to Paul’s shirt, pulling it as she struggled to stay upright.

Jeffrey had his gun on Paul, but even this close, he couldn’t risk a shot. The boy was in the way. His problem was the same as Lena’s. An inch too far and he’d end up killing him.

“Terri,” Lena tried, as if she could somehow help. She had reached the bottom stair, but all she could do was watch as Terri held on to Tim, her bleeding forehead pressed to his leg. The boy’s eyelids flickered. His lips were blue, his face a ghostly white as his lungs strained for air.

Jeffrey warned, “Stop right there, Paul.”

“‘When I am weak,’ ” Terri whispered, “‘then am I strong.’ ”

Paul struggled to pull away, but Terri maintained her hold, clutching on to the waist of his pants. Paul raised the gun higher and brought it down, but Terri tilted her head up at the last minute. The gun glanced off her cheek, hitting her collarbone, slipping in Paul’s hand. A single bullet fired straight up into Terri’s face. The woman staggered again, somehow keeping herself upright as she held on to Paul and her boy. There was a gaping hole in her jaw, fragmented bone hanging down. Blood poured out of the open wound, splattering onto the tiled floor, and the injured woman reflexively tightened her grip on Paul’s shirt, bloody handprints streaking the white.

“No,” Paul said, stumbling back, trying to get away from her. He was horrified at what he was seeing, his expression showing a mixture of fear and revulsion. In shock, he let go of the gun and almost dropped Tim as he fell against the porch railing.

Terri kept her tight grip on Paul, using all her remaining strength to hold on. Blood wicked onto his shirt as she pulled him down to the ground, falling on top of him. She kept pulling at his shirt, pulling herself up toward her son. Tim’s skin was deadly white, his eyes closed. Terri put her head on Tim’s back, the pulverized side of her face turned away from her son.

Jeffrey kicked the revolver away from Paul’s hand, then slid the child out from under his mother. He laid Tim flat on the ground and started to give him CPR. “Lena,” he said, then yelled, “Lena!”

She startled out of her trance, her body working on autopilot as she snapped open her phone and called an ambulance. She knelt beside Terri, putting her fingers to the woman’s neck. There was a faint pulse, and Lena smoothed back her hair from her shattered face, saying, “You’re going to be okay.”

Paul tried to move out from under her, but Lena snarled, “If you so much as breathe, I’ll kill you.”

Paul nodded, his lips trembling as he looked down in horror at Terri’s head in his lap. He had never killed this close before, had always shielded himself from the dirty reality of his deeds. The bullet had torn through the side of Terri’s face, exiting out of the base of her neck. Black dots were burned into the skin from the powder burns. Her left cheek was shredded, her tongue visible through the damage. Fractured bone mingled with blood and gray matter. Fragments of her back molars were stuck in her hair.

Lena put her face close to Terri’s, saying, “Terri? Terri, just hang on.”

Terri’s eyes fluttered open. She took shallow breaths, struggling to speak.

“Terri?”

Lena could see her tongue moving inside her mouth, the white bone shaking from the effort.

“It’s okay,” Lena soothed. “Help is on the way. Just hang on.”

Her jaw worked slowly, labored with the desperate effort of speaking. She couldn’t enunciate, her mouth would not cooperate. It seemed to take everything out of her to say, “I . . . did it.”

“You did it,” Lena assured her, grabbing her hand, careful not to jostle her. Spinal injuries were tricky: the higher up, the more damage. She didn’t even know if Terri could feel her, but she had to hold on to something.

Lena said, “I’ve got your hand, Terri. Don’t let go.”

Jeffrey muttered, “Come on, Tim,” and she heard him counting, pressing the boy’s chest, trying to make his heart beat.

Terri’s breathing slowed. Her eyelids flickered again. “I . . . did . . . it.”

“Terri?” Lena asked. “Terri?”

“Breathe, Tim,” Jeffrey urged. He took a breath of his own and forced it into the boy’s slackened mouth.

Bubbles of bright red blood popped on Terri’s wet lips. There was a gurgling sound in her chest, a fluid look to her features.

“Terri?” Lena begged, holding on to her hand, trying to press life back into her. She heard a siren in the distance, calling like a beacon. Lena knew it was backup; the ambulance couldn’t get there this quickly. Still, she lied.

“Hear that?” Lena asked, gripping Terri’s hand as tightly as she could. “The ambulance is on the way, Terri.”

“Come on, Tim,” Jeffrey coaxed. “Come on.”

Terri blinked, and Lena knew she could hear the wail of the siren, knew help was coming. She exhaled sharply. “I . . . did . . .”

“One-one-thousand, two-one-thousand,” Jeffrey said, counting the compressions.

“I . . . di . . .”

“Terri, talk to me,” Lena pleaded. “Come on, girl. What did you do? Tell me what you did.”

She struggled to speak, giving a weak cough, spraying a fine mist of blood into Lena’s face. Lena stayed there, stayed close to her, tried to keep eye contact so that she would not go.

“Tell me,” Lena said, searching her eyes for something, some sign that she would be okay. She just needed to keep her talking, keep her holding on. “Tell me what you did.”

“I—”

“You what?”

“I—”

“Come on, Terri. Don’t let go. Don’t give up now.” Lena heard the cruiser screech to a halt in the drive. “Tell me what you did.”

“I . . .” Terri began. “I . . . got . . .”

“What did you get?” Lena felt hot tears on her cheeks as Terri’s grip slackened around her own. “Don’t let go, Terri. Tell me what you got.”

Her lip curled, a spasm almost, as if she wanted to smile but no longer knew how.

“What did you get, Terri? What did you get?”

“I . . . got . . .” She coughed out another spray of blood. “. . . away.”

“That’s it,” Jeffrey said as Tim gasped, taking his first breath of air. “That’s great, Tim. Just breathe.”

A stream of blood flowed from the corner of Terri’s mouth, forming a solid line down her cheek like a child’s bright crayon trailing across a page. What was left of her jaw went slack. Her eyes were glassy.

She was gone.

Lena left the police station around nine that evening, feeling like she hadn’t been home in weeks. Her body felt weak, every muscle sore as if she’d run a thousand miles. Her ear was still numb from the shot they had given her at the hospital so they could suture up the damage Paul’s bullet had done. Her hair would cover the missing bit, but Lena knew that every time she looked in a mirror, every time she touched the scar, she would remember Terri Stanley, the look on her face, that almost-smile as she slipped away.

Even though there wasn’t a visible sign of it, Lena felt like she still had some of Terri’s blood on her— in her hair, under her fingernails. No matter what she did, she could still smell it, taste it, feel it. It was heavy, like guilt, and tasted of bitter defeat. She had not helped the woman. She had done nothing to protect her. Terri had been right— they were both drowning in the same ocean.

Her cell phone rang as she turned into her neighborhood, and Lena checked the caller ID, praying like hell Jeffrey didn’t need her back at the station. She squinted at the number, not recognizing it. Lena let the phone ring a few more times before it suddenly came to her. Lu Mitchell’s number. She had almost forgotten it after all these years.

She nearly dropped the phone trying to open it, then cursed as she put it up to her injured ear. Lena switched it around, saying, “Hello?” There was no response, and her heart dropped, thinking the call had gone to her voice mail.

She was about to end the connection when Greg said, “Lee?”

“Yeah,” she said, trying not to sound breathless. “Hey. How’s it going?”

“I heard on the news about the woman,” he said. “Were you there?”

“Yeah,” she told him, wondering how long it had been since someone asked her about work. Ethan was too self-centered and Nan was too squeamish.

“Are you okay?”

“I watched her die,” Lena told him. “I just held her hand and watched her die.”

She heard his breathing over the line and thought about Terri, the way her last breaths had sounded.

He told her, “It’s good that she had you there.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“No,” he disagreed. “It’s good that she had someone with her.”

Before she could stop herself, she said, “I’m not a very good person, Greg.”

Again, all she could hear was his breathing.

“I’ve made some really bad mistakes.”

“Everybody has.”

“Not like me,” she said. “Not the ones I have.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She wanted more than anything else to talk about it, to tell him everything that had happened, to shock him with the ugly details. She couldn’t, though. She needed him too badly, needed to know he was just down the street, holding his mama’s yarn while Lu knitted him another ugly scarf.

“So,” Greg said, and Lena strained to fill the silence.

“I’m enjoying the CD.”

His tone went up. “You got it?”

“Yeah,” she told him, forcing some cheer into her voice. “I really like that second song.”

“It’s called ‘Oldest Story in the World.’ ”

“I’d know that if you’d written down the titles.”

“That’s why you go out and buy the CD for yourself, you goof.” She had forgotten what it was like to be teased, and Lena felt some of the weight that had been on her chest start to lighten.

He continued, “The liner notes are great. Lots of pictures of the girls. Ann looks so damn hot.” He gave a self-deprecating chuckle. “I wouldn’t kick Nancy out of bed, either, but you know I like dark-haired women.”

“Yeah.” She felt herself smiling, too, and wished that they could talk like this forever, that she wouldn’t have to think about Terri dying in front of her, or of Terri’s children being abandoned by the one person in the world who could protect them. Now all they would have was Dale— Dale and the fear of being killed like their mama.

She forced this out of her brain, saying, “The twelfth song is good, too.”

“That’s ‘Down the Nile,’ ” he told her. “Since when do you like ballads?”

“Since . . .” She didn’t know since when. “I don’t know. I just like it.” She had pulled into the driveway behind Nan’s Toyota.

“‘Move On’ is cool,” Greg was saying, but she didn’t really follow. The porch light had turned on. Ethan’s bike was leaning against the front stairs.

“Lee?”

Her smile was gone. “Yeah?”

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” she breathed, her mind reeling. What was Ethan doing in the house? What was he doing with Nan?

“Lee?”

She swallowed hard, making herself speak. “I need to go, Greg. Okay?”

“Is something wrong?”

“No,” she lied, feeling like her heart might explode in her chest. “Everything’s fine. I just can’t talk now.” She hung up before he could respond, dropping the phone in the seat beside her, opening the door with a hand that refused to be steady.

Lena wasn’t sure how she made it up the steps, but she found herself with her hand on the doorknob, her palms slick and sweaty. She took a breath, opening the door.

“Hi!” Nan popped up from the chair where she had been sitting, moving behind it as if she needed a shield. Her eyes were wide, her voice unnaturally high. “We were just waiting for you. Oh, my God! Your ear!” She put her hand to her mouth.

“It’s better than it looks.”

Ethan was on the couch, his arm across the back, his legs open in a hostile stance that managed to take up the entire room. He didn’t speak, but he didn’t have to. The threat of him seeped out of every pore.

“Are you okay?” Nan insisted. “Lena? What happened?”

Lena said, “There was a situation,” keeping her eyes on Ethan.

“They didn’t say much of anything on the news,” Nan said. She was edging toward the kitchen, almost giddy from stress. Ethan stayed where he was, his jaw in a tight line, his muscles flexed. Lena saw his book bag beside his feet and wondered what he had in there. Something heavy, probably. Something to beat her with.

Nan offered, “Would you like some tea?”

“That’s okay,” Lena told her, then said to Ethan, “Let’s go to my room.”

“We could play some cards, Lee.” Nan’s voice wavered. She was obviously alarmed, and she stood her ground. “Why don’t we all play some cards?”

“That’s okay,” Lena answered, knowing she had to do everything in her power to keep Nan out of harm’s way. Lena had brought this on herself, but Nan would not be hurt because of it. She owed that to Sibyl. She owed that to herself.

Nan tried, “Lee?”

“It’s okay, Nan.” Again, she told Ethan, “Let’s go to my room.”

He didn’t move at first, letting her know he was in charge of the situation. When he got up, he took his time, stretching his arms in front of him, faking a yawn.

Lena turned her back to him, ignoring the show. She went into her room and sat on the bed, waiting, praying that he would leave Nan alone.

Ethan sauntered into her bedroom, eyeing her suspiciously. “Where you been?” he asked, shutting the door with a soft click. He gripped his book bag in one hand, keeping his arms at his side.

She shrugged. “Work.”

He dropped the bag with a solid clunk onto the floor. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

“You shouldn’t come here,” she told him.

“That so?”

“I would’ve called you.” She lied, “I was going to come by later.”

“You bent the rim on my front tire,” he said. “It cost me eighty bucks to get a new one.”

She stood, going to the bureau. “I’ll pay you back,” she said, opening the top drawer. She kept her money in an old cigar box. Beside it was a black plastic case that held a Mini-Glock. Nan’s father was a cop and after Sibyl had been murdered, he had insisted his daughter take the gun. Nan had given it to Lena, and Lena had put it in the drawer as a backup. At night, her service weapon was always on the bedside table, but knowing the other Glock was in the drawer, sitting in the unlocked plastic case, was the only reason she was able to go to sleep.

She could take the gun now. She could take it and use it and finally get Ethan out of her life.

“What are you doing?” he demanded.

Lena took out the cigar box and slid the drawer closed. She put the box on top of the dresser and opened the lid. Ethan’s large hand reached in front of her, closing back the lid.

He was standing behind her, his body barely touching hers. She felt the whisper of his breath on the back of her neck when he said, “I don’t want your money.”

She cleared her throat so that she could speak. “What do you want?”

He took another step closer. “You know what I want.”

She could feel his cock harden as he pressed it against her ass. He put his hands on either side of her, resting them on top of the dresser, trapping her.

He said, “Nan wouldn’t tell me who CD-boy is.”

Lena bit her lip, feeling the sting as she drew blood. She thought about Terri Stanley when they had knocked on her door this morning, the way she had held her jaw rigid as she talked to keep her lip from breaking open. Terri would never have to do that again. She would never again lie awake at night, wondering what Dale was going to do next. She would never have to be afraid.

Ethan started rubbing against her. The sensation made her feel sick. “Me and Nan had a real good talk.”

“Leave Nan alone.”

“You want me to leave her alone?” His hand snaked around, grabbing her breast so hard she had to sink her teeth into the flesh of her lip to keep from crying out. “This is mine,” he reminded her. “You hear me?”

“Yes.”

“Nobody touches you but me.”

Lena closed her eyes, willing herself not to scream as his lips brushed against her neck.

“I’ll kill anybody who touches you.” He tightened his fist around her breast as if he wanted to rip it off. “One more dead body don’t mean shit to me,” he hissed. “You hear?”

“Yes.” Her heart thudded once in her chest, then she could no longer feel it beating. She had felt numb with fear, but just as suddenly, she felt nothing.

Slowly, Lena turned around. She saw her hands come up, not to slap him but to tenderly cup his face. She felt light-headed, dizzy, as if she were somewhere else in the room, watching herself with Ethan. When her lips met his, she felt nothing. His tongue had no taste. His callused fingers as he pushed his hand down the front of her pants brought no sensation.

On the bed, he was rougher than ever before, pinning her down, somehow more angry that she wasn’t resisting. Through it all, Lena still felt apart from herself, even as he pushed into her like a blade slicing through her insides. She was aware of the pain as she was aware of her breathing; a fact, an uncontrollable process through which her body survived.

Ethan finished quickly and Lena lay there feeling like she had been marked by a dog. He rolled onto his back, breathing hard, satisfied with himself. It wasn’t until she heard the steady low snore of his sleep that Lena felt her senses slowly begin to return. The smell of his sweat. The taste of his tongue. The sticky wetness between her legs.

He hadn’t used a condom.

Lena carefully rolled onto her side, feeling what he had left drain out of her. She watched the clock slowly mark the time, first minutes, then hours. One hour. Two. She waited until three hours had passed before she rose from the bed. She held her breath, listening for a change in the cadence of Ethan’s breathing as she crouched to the floor.

She moved slowly, as if through water, sliding open the top drawer of her bureau, taking out the black plastic case. She sat on the floor, her back to Ethan, holding her breath as she unsnapped the lock. The noise filled the room like a gunshot. She tried not to gasp as Ethan shifted in bed. Lena closed her eyes, fighting panic as she waited for his hand on her back, his fingers wrapped around her throat. She turned her head, looking over her shoulder.

He was on his side, facing away from her.

The weapon was loaded, a round from the magazine already chambered. She cradled the gun in her hands, feeling it grow heavier and heavier until she let her hands drift to her lap. A smaller version of her service weapon, the Mini could do just as much damage up close. Lena closed her eyes again, feeling the mist of blood Terri had sprayed into her face, hearing her last words, almost triumphant: I got away.

Lena stared at the gun, the black metal cold against her hands. She turned to make sure Ethan was still sleeping.

His book bag was on the floor where he had dropped it. She gritted her teeth as she opened the zipper, the sound reverberating in her chest. The bag was a nice one, Swiss Army, with several large pockets and plenty of storage. Ethan kept everything in the bag— his wallet, his books for school, even some gym clothes. He wouldn’t notice a couple of extra pounds.

Lena reached into the bag, unzipping the large rear compartment that snaked around the inside of the bag. There were pencils in there, some pens, but nothing else. She hid the gun inside and pulled the zip closed, leaving the bag on the floor.

Moving backward, she crawled to the bed, using her hands to lift herself up, then inch by inch lowering herself down beside Ethan.

He exhaled, almost a snort, and rolled over, his arm flopping across her chest. Lena turned her head to see the clock, counting away the minutes until the alarm would go off, until Ethan would be out of her life forever.