Chapter 22 #2
Setting the empty glass down on the coffee table, I turned back to Kate with an earnest expression. “Jokes aside, I have to ask…are you cool with this? Me and Cooper?”
“Are you kidding? I’m fucking delighted. My brother needed you as much as you needed him,” she replied. “I don’t believe in that star-crossed, meant-to-be, fairy tale nonsense, but you two are the closest I’ll get to ever believing in fate.”
Her words warmed me, making me buzz from more than the vodka. I turned my head toward the front window, where James was standing outside keeping watch, and gestured toward him. “What about you? Are you and the handsome police officer going to follow in our fairy tale footsteps?”
As much as Kate tried to hide her infatuation, a smile betrayed her. She glanced over at James as he paced the yard. “I’m definitely feeling something,” she said dreamily. “I think I found my guy.”
I lightly tapped her leg with my toes, returning the smile. My mind was swirling with grandiose images of double dates, joint weddings, and epic dinner parties. Sighing, I reached for the empty champagne flute. “Refill?”
“You know my answer,” Kate said with a wink.
I stood from the couch and carried the glasses into the kitchen to pour another round of mimosas—this time, without the vodka—before sauntering back toward the living room. My pace slowed when I realized I was walking in on a “moment.”
James was looking in through the large bay window, his eyes shimmering with adoration as he stared at Kate. I could tell by Kate’s profile that she was returning the look with an equal amount of affection.
It was sweet.
It was perfect.
It was ripped apart by gunshots pelting in through the window, shattering the glass, and spraying tiny fragments across the room.
James dropped to the ground, blasted with bullets.
Kate screamed.
It was a wretched, horrible sound that would haunt me until the day I died.
Which could be now.
Which could be right now.
The wine glasses slipped from my fingers, smashing into shards at my feet. My body went numb when a man stormed in through the front door, his gun pointed at us.
No.
It was him.
Cappy.
I mentally slapped myself to wake up. I begged my mind to wake me from this terrible nightmare. It had to be a nightmare; it simply had to be.
Cappy wasn’t here.
James wasn’t shot.
It isn’t real. It isn’t real.
Kate cried out again, leaping from the couch and making a run for it. She bolted around the sofa, knocking over the side table, and charged toward me, yelling, “Run!”
He shot her.
Kate was struck in the back. Her face twisted with horror as she buckled at my feet and a blood-curdling scream tore past my lips.
This was not a dream. This was happening.
“No!” I sobbed, my voice shrill and broken but my feet glued to the floor.
I couldn’t move. I couldn’t run.
Cappy approached me, drenched in sweat and rage, his eyes glinting with hatred.
He pointed the gun at me.
Pointed it at my chest. My heart.
He didn’t speak; only bared his teeth and made a growling sound, something animalistic, the weapon shaking in his hand.
My eyes lifted to his.
I could clearly see his face now. His eyes, dark and troubled…
Something flashed through my brain like an electrical current.
My breath hitched, my body tingling with ancient memories that had been buried deep and sealed tight.
But they were supposed to be dreams.
Nightmares.
No…
They weren’t.
I’d seen this man before. Before my abduction. I’d seen this exact look on his face. He was older now, but it was the same man.
Hunched over on a dark road, cradling a woman in his arms, wailing his pain into the night.
He had those same eyes.
There was rain. Blood.
Death.
Then there was nothing.
I pulled at my hair, gasping, shaking, crying. Flashes of memories cut through me like a rusty knife. Cappy snarled and waved the gun at me, a guttural moan slicing through the air.
A blast rang out. A sharp, sickening crack.
It was so loud it made my ears ring.
Funny how I noticed the ringing in my ears before I noticed the bullet in my chest.
I glanced down at the crimson stain pooling through the front of my alabaster blouse. Tentative fingers reached out to touch it, momentarily hypnotized. I looked up at Cappy, his features less angry, less volatile. He had softened in a way. Released.
He’d reaped his vengeance at last.
It’s okay, I thought, feeling a twisted sense of remorse for the crippled man before me. It’s okay now. You killed me.
The pain finally registered, tearing through me as I began to fall. My knees buckled, and my legs gave out. I hit the ground hard, the back of my head colliding with the hardwood floor and forcing stars to flash behind my eyes. My mind was foggy, limbs weak.
As I lay there bleeding, another shot rang out.
I heard the gun hit the wooden planks, followed by the thump of a crumpling body.
And then…
Silence.
It was quiet. So easy to fade away, disappear. To burn out.
It was better this way. There was too much damage, too much to repair.
Too much pain.
I could go to the light and finally be free of the nightmares; my demons wouldn’t look for me in the light. They would let me be, and I would be at peace.
Peace.
What a concept. I hadn’t experienced much peace in my lifetime. The closest I’d ever come was while lying across Cooper’s chest, feeling his heart beat in perfect time with mine. Feeling his warm breath tickle my cheek. Feeling his arms around me, protecting me, defending me, keeping me safe.
Loving me.
My cell phone rang.
I drew an ounce of strength to tilt my head and discovered the phone lying mere inches from my face. It had fallen off the side table.
Cooper was calling me—oh, God, Cooper was calling me.
He was likely calling about my case, to apologize for not having any answers.
Little did he know…
I’d already solved it.
The phone continued to ring. I wanted to reach for it, wanted to say goodbye, to tell him thank you, thank you for loving me, but I couldn’t move my arms. I was slowly bleeding out, my life seeping into the new floors of my new home.
It was supposed to be a fresh start but had become my big finish.
My grand finale.
My final bow.
A tear slipped down my temple as the phone buzzed and vibrated against the floor, begging to be answered.
Stay, stay, stay, it pleaded.
But I had to go.
The phone stopped ringing, and I stared up at the ceiling.
I thought of Cooper and how he would react to hearing about my death.
The thought was salt in my wound. I hated to think of him hurting, but I knew I’d only hurt him more while alive.
He would eventually move on from my death, find love again, and be happy.
Someday.
But for now, he loved me, and that gave me solace as the blackness took hold.
“I love you,” I whispered into the silence, hoping somewhere, somehow, he could hear me.