Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Get him out of my sight!” Teresa blasted.
The uniform hauled Micah away from the table.
Blood covered the lower right side of the guy’s shirt, red staining the garish orange. Dammit. “He tore open his stitches,” Curran said. What a pain in the ass. The last thing they needed was this guy saying he’d been roughhoused into an injury. If he’s our killer, this case needs to be airtight. No walking. No doubt on anything. And no accusations that cops are getting too physical.
“Infirmary first,” Teresa directed the uniform, “then back in a cell.”
But Micah kept fighting. “I didn’t do it! I’m being set up! It wasn’t me!”
The uniform got him out of the room. The overpriced lawyer hustled out after them. Teresa shook her head even as her hands went to her hips. “Always the same line from perps like him. Even when you have them dead to rights.”
Yeah, the evidence was all lined up. Maybe too lined up? Curran’s gaze slid to the bagged knife. “Tied up with a pretty bow.”
“What?”
His gaze rose even as his jaw clenched. “If I hadn’t followed Royal, Micah would be dead right now.” Because Royal would have pulled that trigger.
“Georgia has the death penalty. Let a judge and jury decide if that’s his fate.” She scooped up the bagged knife.
“There wouldn’t be questions.” His voice was low. “It would have been tied up. Royal wouldn’t have cooperated worth a damn with investigators. Violet would have said she stabbed her attacker?—”
“She did stab him. That’s the wound the prick just broke open when he charged at me.”
“Royal would have killed him,” Curran muttered. “The suspected serial killer would be cold in the morgue. No more questions…” His voice trailed away.
“Uh, Detective Barlow? You with me?”
He didn’t speak.
A long sigh escaped her. “I get that this is your first big case, so I’ll explain things to you. This is what we call a win. The evidence is piling up, and Micah Wright is going to be convicted of multiple murders. I don’t know about you, but I’m going out to celebrate tonight.” She swung on her heel and headed for the door.
He didn’t follow. His mind wouldn’t stop spinning.
Everything was a little too neat.
Tied up with a freaking bow.
If he hadn’t been there that night, if he hadn’t stopped Royal…
Maybe I wasn’t meant to stop him. Maybe Royal was supposed to kill Micah, and Micah would have taken the fall for everything. Not like a dead man could proclaim his innocence.
And if that had been the case, if Royal had ended Micah, then no one—not even Royal—would still be looking for the man who’d abducted Violet.
The man who’d also killed Marcella White, Bailey Brown, and Fiona Law.
And the other vics that the doctor of the dead had unearthed at the winery? Would they have ever been recovered? Or would the case have ended with Micah’s dead body?
Did someone want it all to end with him? With Simone’s dying breath, she’d said Micah’s name. But had that been because Micah was guilty of her murder? Or had Simone been trying to tell them something else?
The pieces all just did not fit .
“Fuck.” Curran yanked out his phone and called Royal. But the line just rang and rang and rang.
“Hello, Dr. Barnes,” Royal said, his voice as smooth as silk. The rage had vanished from his expression. No emotion showed on his face at all.
“Surprised?” Leo Barnes asked. His breath blew over the shell of Violet’s ear as he urged her forward. She heard him kick the door shut behind them. No soft click following the closing, though. He hadn’t locked the door.
“I’m not particularly surprised.” Royal shrugged. “I know Micah wasn’t the killer.”
“Oh?”
“Some things didn’t add?—”
Royal’s phone started to ring.
“Turn it off and put it on the desk,” Leo snarled, “or I will cut her throat open and you can watch her bleed out right in front of you.”
Violet sucked in a breath. And her right hand slid down her body. She dipped it beneath the flowing edge of her oversized blouse. Slid her fingers into her pocket.
Royal turned off his phone and tossed it face down onto his desk. “Happy?”
“You realized it was me.”
Leo stood right behind her. His body pressed against her back, and that damn knife lingered at her throat.
“I saw it in your eyes, at the theater. You were suspicious of me,” Leo accused. “Realized I had to follow you here. I did plan on a different ending, but you made me change things. What’s happening here is on you.”
Violet’s heart drummed in a double-time rhythm.
But Royal looked as cool as could be as he studied the killer. After a tense, silent moment, Royal said, “You planned for me to kill Micah Wright. You’re the one who lured him to the station, aren’t you? Did you make Simone call both him and Violet?”
“Guilty,” Leo confessed. And he sounded proud of himself.
Royal’s lips twisted. His eyes glinted. “You thought he’d take the fall for all of your crimes, and with me killing him, the cops would have to tie me to the vigilante hunts. Micah would be gone, and so would I. He’d be in a grave. I’d be in a cell.”
Soft laughter rang from behind her. “I wondered if I was on your radar. First you took out Owen Bell, then the Slasher, Everett Thomas. Got to say, I was fascinated by your work. Hunting predators? How devious and delightful. I would have so liked to pick your brain in a session.”
“That shit wouldn’t ever happen.”
“When I realized someone was taking out killers, I tried to be extra careful. But when you stole my Violet from me, well, I knew for certain I was being hunted.” The laughter had faded away. “I don’t like being hunted.”
Royal shrugged. He stood behind the desk, still close to the painting on the wall. “Too damn bad,” Royal told him.
“Oh, you misunderstand. Things aren’t bad for me. They’re bad for you.”
Royal wasn’t looking at her. Her eyes were on him, but he stared straight at the man behind her. Her hand had slipped out of her pocket. Leo didn’t seem at all aware of her small movements.
“The cops know nothing about me,” Leo boasted. “They never will. I considered letting you live, just so you understand. If you’d killed Micah like I’d planned, then we could have both walked away. And lived to hunt another day,” he finished, voice mocking.
“You hate Micah,” Violet realized. There was something about the way he said Micah’s name.
“Of course, I do. He fucked my wife. I took that personally. I loved my wife. She. Was. Mine .”
“That why you’ve been killing her over and over again?” Royal asked. “Because you loved her so much?”
Leo’s left hand held the knife to her throat and his right hand—his right hand suddenly flew up in front of her. And that hand held a gun.
“No!” Violet screamed.
“Curl your fingers around the fucking gun grip,” Leo blasted. The knife bit into her.
She shook her head. The blade sliced deeper.
“Do it, Violet,” Royal urged her. “It’s okay.”
No, it was not okay.
The blade bit into her. She did not lift her hand. “You want me holding the gun while you shoot Royal. Not happening.” The hell she’d do that.
Royal’s nostrils flared. He edged closer to the desk. “Trying to get gunshot residue on her hand? What’s the end game now? Gonna make it look like a murder-suicide?”
Her breath froze in her throat.
“Yes.” Leo kept the gun on Royal. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do. Thought it would be extra fun for her to hold the weapon while I shot you.”
The knife dug deeper.
She refused to put her hand on the gun. She also refused to cry out in pain.
“But I can always just shoot you now, and then, after I’m done carving up Violet, I’ll curl her fingers around the gun and fire again?—”
“Or I’ll carve you,” she said softly. Then she drove her right elbow back as hard as she could.
You were the man in the garage. You, not Micah. And I stabbed you right here.
He screamed in pain. As he screamed, she uncurled her hand. The new switchblade Royal had given her rested in her palm. She hit the button, and the blade appeared. As hard as she could, Violet drove that blade into Leo’s upper thigh. Then she wrenched it to the side.
He howled. He also let go of her. She sprang forward, still desperately gripping her switchblade, and ran straight for Royal. He grabbed her and shoved her behind his body.
Boom.
The gunshot seemed to echo around her. And, honestly, for a beat after that blast, she could hear nothing but the frantic drumming of her own heart. “Royal!” He’d been hit? Had Royal been hit? Leo must have fired. She spun back around. Her frantic gaze swept over Royal.
She saw that Royal had his arm out and up. A gun was still in his hand. Her stare whipped from his hand to Leo.
Leo had stumbled back against the closed door. The knife had fallen from his left hand. His right still gripped his gun. He was trying to raise it up.
Royal shot him in the shoulder. The gun dropped from Leo’s fingers as he screamed in pain.
“Soundproof room,” Royal murmured. “You can scream as loudly as you want, and no one will come.” He looked back at Violet. “Stay behind me,” he told her. “Please, baby.” His gaze dropped to her throat. For just a moment, his rage broke loose. She saw it flare in his eyes.
“Royal?” Violet inched closer to him.
“Good job with the knife, sweetheart. Told you in the limo that I thought trouble was coming.” He looked back at the man who was bleeding by the door. “You counted on it being soundproofed in here, didn’t you? That’s why you followed us from the theater. You came in the back. Probably been to Punishment a few times, haven’t you? Scoping out the place. Hunting me. ”
Hate twisted Leo’s face. “You should have…fucking left…my Violet?—”
“I would never leave Violet.” He took a step closer to Leo. “Violet, sweetheart, there is another gun in the top drawer of my desk. Get it, will you?”
She got it. The drawer was open. She put down her switchblade, and her sweaty fingers grabbed for the gun. Then she immediately took aim at Leo, too.
“You were going to shoot me. Make it look as if I’d attacked Violet and she had no choice but to kill me in order to survive.” Royal shook his head. “But you were going to make sure she died, right? That she fell victim to all the terrible wounds I gave her before she could end me.”
Leo had one hand slapped against his thigh. The other hand was moving toward his blazer. Did he have another weapon?
“Royal…” Violet warned.
“It was the mention of your wife that made me suspicious at the theater,” Royal said. “All my instincts were screaming when I talked to you on that stage. And, yeah, I planned to immediately do a deep dive on your dead wife. I’ll still do that dive. I’m guessing that when I research her, I’ll find that she looked just like Violet?”
Leo’s gaze whipped to Violet. “Mirror…image…”
Violet swallowed.
“So Micah fucked your wife,” Royal snapped out. “And you—what? Caught them together? Went crazy? Killed her?”
“Robbery…gone wrong. Guy tried to take her purse. S-sliced her open.” A shudder shook Leo’s form. “So much blood…” He licked his lips. “She was beautiful covered in blood.”
“Robbery, my ass,” Royal threw at him. “You killed her. Staged the scene to look like a robbery, huh? And you got a taste for all that blood and violence.”
“Always hear…the darkest parts of my patients…their lives.” His hand lifted a little higher toward his blazer. “They never knew…I was worse than all of them.”
She should grab Royal’s phone. Call the cops. Instead, Violet found she was rooted to the spot. The gun in her grip trembled.
“Gonna…pull the trigger, sweet Violet?” Leo asked her. He smiled. “Bet you’re not…can’t shoot…unarmed man.”
“I can,” Royal said. And he did. Boom.
Violet flinched.
The bullet slammed into Leo’s already injured left leg, and the psychiatrist hit the floor. He howled in agony.
Violet’s stare flew back and forth between Leo and a stone-faced Royal.
“She’s…seeing you…” Leo gasped out. “Just…as bad…as…” He slumped on the floor. His body had gone still.
Royal stared down at him. His weapon was still aimed.
“You’re not like him,” Violet whispered.
“I know.” He waited.
Violet took a step forward.
Royal shook his head.
And Leo surged forward. He hurtled across the floor even as his hand flew out. He grabbed for the gun he’d dropped moments before.
A guttural scream broke from Leo as he lifted the weapon and aimed it at Royal.
Violet fired.
So did Royal.
Which one had fired first?
Did it matter?
Leo went down and pieces of him went everywhere. Her eyes squeezed shut at the horrible sight.
Time passed in excruciating silence. Boom. Boom. Boom. That was her heart racing, but the sound was like gunshots.
“Violet? Sweetheart?” Royal took the gun from her. “Can you look at me?”
Her eyes opened just as the door to his office flew inward.
“Royal, you are not going to believe this shit,” Kai announced dramatically. “But you have got to take a look at— sonofabitch. What is happening here?”
Her head jerked toward Kai’s shocked voice. He stood in the doorway and gaped at the body that had slumped right in front of him.
Only Kai wasn’t alone. There was someone else with him. A man with dark blond hair. Wide shoulders. A man who edged closer and peered down at the blood and chaos with zero expression on his face.
A face that was almost an exact mirror copy of Royal’s.
The stranger looked up even as Kai dropped to his knees to search for a pulse at Leo’s throat.
“Not gonna find one.” Royal had moved to stand protectively before Violet. She had to crane her head to see around him. And to blink a few times because surely…surely, she was having some sort of hallucination. Maybe one brought on by shock or trauma. There were not two Royals in the room.
If only she had a good psychiatrist to ask about the problem.
A wild bubble of laughter escaped her.
Is this what happens when the stress breaks you?
The stranger stared back at Royal.
Not an exact copy of Royal’s face. Older. Harder. With a long scar that stretched across his right cheek and over his lip.
“Who the fuck are you?” Royal breathed.
“I’m your brother,” the stranger replied. His stare dropped to the body once more. “Some sins sure do run in a family.”
And what did that mean?
“You gonna need help burying the body?” the man asked.
Violet blanched. “It was self-defense.”
The man with Royal’s face smiled. “Right.”
Royal picked up his phone. His fingers swiped across the screen. Her breath heaved in and out and then she heard him say, “Curran? Yeah. Sorry, got a little busy.” A pause. “Calm down. Calm down. Jeez. Did you get all that? Most of it, at least?”
Wait, had he answered the call? Before he’d tossed it down, had he turned the phone on? It had looked as if he turned off the phone, but as he talked, she realized that he hadn’t.
“Good,” Royal praised. “Was really hoping you’d say that. I’m gonna need you to come over with some of your buddies in blue. Seems I have a killer for you. Is he tied up with a red bow?” His gaze drifted to the body. “There is plenty of red, so I guess you could say that.” Then that gaze shifted to Violet as he turned his back on the man in the doorway and on Kai. Royal’s focus drifted to her throat. His jaw hardened. “Get EMTs here. Violet is hurt. Where are we? I’m at my freaking club. Did you not trace the location yet? Man, don’t be sloppy.”
She touched her neck. Felt the sticky wetness of her blood. “Scratch.”
His eyes glittered.
“It’s a scratch,” she repeated. But that didn’t make the fury in his gaze lessen any. She could feel his rage filling the room. Unable to help herself, Violet surged for Royal. She pressed onto her toes and caught the back of his head. Ignoring the phone, she tugged him close to her. So close that she could hear the thunder of Curran’s voice as he barked out questions.
“I love you,” Violet told Royal.
Then she kissed him.
With a dead body just a few feet away.
With a long lost…brother close by?
With her whole world imploding, she kissed Royal. And when the cops did come bursting in—the cops and the EMTs and a whole cavalry, she was still with Royal. Still right at his side.
And when Curran looked at the still-warm body, then at her and Royal, Violet lifted her chin.
“What in the hell happened here?” Curran demanded.
Hadn’t he heard everything on the phone? Maybe he just needed confirmation for the record. She could explain things. “He tried to kill us,” Violet began.
“So we killed him,” Royal finished.
Their hands were linked together. They were linked. Nothing was going to break them apart. Nothing.
“Sonofabitch,” Curran growled.
“Self-defense,” Royal corrected. “I do believe what you meant to say was… self-defense.”