Chapter 35
Chapter Thirty-Five
“Jesus Christ.” Peter burst into the hallway and shoved May backward into the exam room, grabbing Kyle by the arm and dragging him inside. He kicked the door shut behind them. “What did you just do?”
May stumbled, catching herself on the edge of the counter. Her gaze locked on the gun. The long metal tube at the end of it looked obscene now, unreal. “What is that thing?”
Kyle rolled his eyes. “Shut up. You’ve already caused enough trouble.”
Peter slapped both hands over his face and dragged them down. “I can’t believe you just shot Jack, and where in the hell did you find a suppressor?”
“I’m inventive,” Kyle snapped.
May moved on instinct and dropped to her knees beside Jack.
She pressed two fingers against his carotid artery and counted, then shifted to his radial pulse, already aware of what she would find.
There was nothing. The entry wound sat just left of center, and the amount of blood loss combined with the location indicated a direct cardiac strike.
The injury was not survivable. He was gone.
“Guess he’s not talking now,” Kyle said.
May looked down at her own hand, slick with blood. Her stomach turned, but her mind was suddenly very clear. She pushed herself backward on her heels. “I don’t understand.”
Peter stared at Kyle as if he had never seen him before. His blondish-gray hair was disheveled, his face drained of color. “You shot him. How could you do that?”
“What else was I supposed to do?” Kyle snapped. “He wouldn’t shut up.”
May forced herself to look at Peter. “We have to get out of here. This is not okay.”
Peter exhaled slowly and looked at the floor, as if searching for something steady in the linoleum.
May’s brain began calculating distance. The door. The gun. The counter behind her. If she screamed—
“You scream, I’ll shoot you,” Kyle hissed.
She met his eyes. They were empty now. Cold. “You wouldn’t shoot me,” she said, though she was not sure she believed it.
“Try me,” he said. “I kind of want to.”
Peter held up a hand. “Don’t. Just give me a second.”
“Stop thinking,” May said. “There’s nothing to think about. He just killed someone. He killed Jack.” Her heart pounded as her mind clicked facts into order. Wait a minute. There was only one way this computed. “Kyle. You killed Laura.”
“Of course I killed her.” His voice rose with irritation. “That worthless twit thought she could tell me no.”
May felt the blood drain from her face.
“She looked like you,” he continued. “Close enough. I offered her a ride home that night, and she was oh so flirty. We made out a little, and then she said no. That she was into someone named Tyler. Nobody rejects me. I lost it. I don’t even remember the moment exactly.
I just remember coming back into myself and finding her on the ground and not breathing. ”
Peter closed his eyes briefly.
“I called Peter,” Kyle went on. “He handled it. Like always.”
May stared at Peter. “You handled it?”
Peter looked older than he had ten minutes ago. “I left her down by the water, so she’d be found and her family wouldn’t have to wait long.”
“That makes you a hero,” May shot back, fear sharpening her words.
Peter flinched.
She straightened and backed into the exam table, the paper crinkling loudly behind her. Her pulse hammered in her ears. If Ace walked in right now, what would he do? How long did a hearing take? Thirty minutes? An hour? It felt like days.
Peter suddenly moved, grabbing a stack of paper towels from the counter and pressing them against Jack’s chest.
“Stop it. He’s dead,” May protested.
Peter’s hands stilled but he left the towels in place.
Kyle shifted his grip on the gun, the metal tube tracking lazily between Peter and May.
“Now what?” May’s mind raced. “You think you can just carry a body out of a clinic in the middle of town?”
Peter glanced toward the window.
Kyle’s eyes flicked to her again. “We’ll figure it out.”
May swallowed. She had to keep them talking and buy time. She couldn’t let them take her out of here. “You already messed this up. You shot him inside my clinic. There’s blood everywhere. You think that just disappears?”
Peter crouched beside Jack’s body and grabbed him under the arms, dragging him a few inches away from the wall. He studied the blood spatter. “I can clean this up enough that nobody will know. The place already smells like bleach. Blood isn’t unusual in a clinic.”
May stared at him. “What about me?”
Peter glanced at her, then at Kyle. “That’s another issue.”
“What is wrong with you?” she shot back. “You can’t just follow him around cleaning up murders.”
“Sure he can. He’s my chief of staff,” Kyle said.
Peter didn’t react to that. He kept his focus on the wall, calculating.
“I’m sorry, Peter,” Kyle said suddenly, throwing his hands out as if this were a minor disagreement. “I shouldn’t have killed Laura. That was a mistake.”
May shook her head slowly. She needed to keep him talking. Every word mattered. “So you told Jack to kill Ivy?” How was any of this making sense?
“Yes,” Kyle said without hesitation.
“While you were fishing?” she pressed.
Kyle exhaled impatiently. “He and Ivy got drunk, and he decided to confide in her about my accidentally killing Laura. Apparently Ivy panicked, and he had to subdue her. So he called me, freaking out.”
May’s stomach twisted. “So you told him to kill her?”
“Of course.” Kyle looked at her as if she were slow.
“I told him to strangle her and leave her by the water, just like Laura. He had an alibi for the first death. I had an alibi for the second. We were covered.” He glanced down at Jack’s body and shook his head.
“I didn’t expect him to lose his mind over her. ”
May felt no surge of pity for Jack. The thought of Ivy fighting for her life while someone she trusted strangled her made bile rise in her throat. May shivered. “What about the woman who disappeared years ago? Your ex?”
“She deserved it, too,” Kyle said, sounding almost bored. “Wasn’t my first and obviously wasn’t my last.”
May gagged.
Peter straightened slowly. Even now, in a white golf shirt and pressed black jeans, he looked put together. No blood on him. May’s eyes flicked to Kyle. Red golf shirt. Tan Dockers. Still immaculate. There hadn’t been much spatter.
“Okay.” Peter opened a cabinet and began rifling through supplies. “There we go.” He pulled out a long, wide elastic bandage.
May pressed herself back against the exam table. There was nowhere to go.
“Hold the gun on her,” Peter said.
Kyle adjusted his stance and aimed it squarely at her again.
“This is a terrible idea,” May said, trying to keep steady. “You’re not going to get away with this.”
Peter’s shoulders sagged. “Of course we are.” He crossed the room in two strides, grabbed her wrists, and yanked her toward him.
She struggled, but he was stronger than he looked.
He forced her wrists together and wrapped the elastic bandage tightly around them, pulling it hard enough that her fingers tingled.
He knotted it twice, and then three times.
She kicked out but didn’t do any damage.
“I’m sorry about this, Dr. Smirnov.” Peter looped another bandage around her face and mouth, pulling it tight enough that it pressed painfully against her jaw. He tied it behind her head, securing it in place.
Her breath came faster through her nose. Her hands were bound. The gun never wavered.
Kyle laughed, the sound ugly. “I’ve wanted to gag her forever. I just didn’t think a medical bandage would be the thing to do it.”
Peter ignored him. He pulled gauze from the supply drawer and pressed thick pads against the dark stain spreading across Jack’s chest. He wrapped two more elastic bandages around the torso, binding the gauze tight.
May listened frantically for anyone in the hospital. Could she even scream?
“Hopefully he won’t drip too much on the way.” Peter crouched, braced himself, and hoisted Jack over his shoulder with a grunt. “We’re parked in the back. We’ll go out the rear door.”
“And then what?” Kyle asked.
Peter shot him a look. “Just get her.”
Kyle grabbed her, and she twisted violently.
The bandage around her mouth bit into her cheeks as she tried to scream.
The sound died in her throat. Then he bent, grabbed her around the waist, and flipped her over his shoulder.
Fear roared through her. She kicked hard, catching him in the side.
He tightened his grip around her thighs. “Hold still, damn it.”
She tried to slam her bound hands against his back, but the elastic wrap limited her movement. Her wrists burned where it dug into her skin.
“Let’s go.” Peter led the way.
They moved quickly through the office and down the hallway. The back of the clinic faced the tree line. A narrow gravel strip served as staff parking. At this hour, it was empty.
May’s stomach rolled. She wanted to vomit, but with the bandage tight across her mouth she would choke on it. She forced herself to breathe through her nose and kept struggling.
Where was Ace?
“All right. We’re clear. Let’s go,” Peter said, pushing the door open.
Cold air hit her skin as they stepped outside. In a matter of seconds, Peter reached a dark Buick parked near the edge of the lot. He opened the trunk and dropped Jack inside with a heavy thud.
Kyle followed and, just as roughly, tossed May in after him.
She hit the hard carpet and twisted away from Jack’s body, panic spiking inside her. The space was too tight to move. The trunk was narrow and shallow, the lining rough against her back. She tried to force sound past the bandage.
“Take her to the house,” Peter said quickly.
“We can’t keep her at the house,” Kyle replied.
Peter looked around. “I know that. Just meet me there in about half an hour. We’ll get her and the body into the boat.”
Dread spread through her chest, cold and suffocating.
“I’ll clean up here. Trust me,” Peter added.
Kyle looked at him for a long moment, then glanced down at May. She was trying to shove herself into the corner of the trunk, away from Jack’s still body. “How are you getting there?” Kyle asked.
“I’ll bring Jack’s rental truck,” Peter said. “It’s out front. This is going to work out, Senator. I promise.”
Kyle’s gaze dropped back to May. “I hope so. Either way, I’m going to enjoy this.”
Then he slammed the trunk lid shut.