Chapter 26 #4
My grip tightened. I hadn't expected that. Maybe I'd wanted him to tell me they were all monsters. “Why?”
“Because,” he said slowly. “Deserving indicates judgment. Death is a fact.”
“That's bullshit.” Seriously.
“Probably.” The fact he agreed with me, almost ruefully, didn’t help.
I stared at him. “Did you kill innocent people?”
“Yes.”
Pain opened somewhere beneath my ribs. “How many?”
“More than I can justify to you.”
“To me?”
“Or to myself.”
I wanted to hate him. It would have made everything so much easier. “But you saved me.”
“Yes.”
“You manipulated me.”
“Yes.”
“You killed Elliot.”
“Yes.”
“To save me?”
“Yes.”
No hesitation. No qualification.
I swallowed. “If I let you walk out of here, will you kill again?”
For the first time, Simon looked away, only briefly. When his eyes returned to mine, they looked almost gold again.
“Yes.”
My finger rested against the side of the trigger.
He didn't move.
“Jesus Christ.”
“You asked.”
Like that helped. “I know.”
“You wanted the truth.”
Yeah. That I knew.
“Mallory—”
“Stop saying my name.”
He stopped.
Tears burned my eyes now. Anger. Grief. Exhaustion. Flint lying unconscious somewhere. Colin dead. Guy dead. Brewster at my feet.
Simon standing in front of me.
And me, apparently, expected to decide what happened next.
Fuck that.
“Why aren't you running?” Because yes, dammit, I wanted the truth.
“Because you haven't decided.”
“Do you actually think this is another test?”
“No.”
“An audit?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
His answer came softly. “Your choice.”
I laughed. It sounded terrible. “You really are an asshole.”
“I've been called worse.”
“I bet.”
My arm was getting tired. My everything hurt. “Give me one reason.”
He tilted his head. “To let me leave?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
I stared at him. “No?”
“If you require me to justify your decision, then it isn't yours.”
I wanted to shoot him just for saying that. Maybe he knew. Maybe that was the point. I thought about the little girl who had learned that being accused of something could become more important than whether you'd actually done it.
About facts. Narratives. Authority. Accuracy. Truth.
Truth was a bitch.
Simon was a killer.
Simon had manipulated me.
Simon had killed people who didn't deserve to die.
Simon had saved my life.
All of those things were true.
None erased the others. I looked down at the gun in my hand. We stood there in silence for a long time.
Finally, I said, “I don’t forgive you.”
“I know.”
“This isn't absolution.”
“I know.”
“If I see you again—”
“You'll have questions.”
A wet laugh escaped me. “Goddammit.”
That faint almost-smile returned. I hated that too.
Sirens sounded somewhere in the distance.
I looked toward the warehouse entrance.
Simon didn't.
That told me something. “You called them.”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Before I came inside.”
Of course he had.
“CPD?”
“And the FBI.”
“Ambulance?”
“Yes.”
I glanced at Brewster. Too late for him. Not for me. Not for Flint. Not for Simon.
The sirens grew louder. I looked at Simon again. He remained exactly where he'd been.
Waiting.
I could keep him there. One command. One shot. Maybe just keep the gun trained on him until the police arrived.
He had admitted it. Not all of it. Enough. I could end the Auditor tonight. Maybe I should. Maybe that was what the facts required.
Except I couldn’t bring myself to raise the gun. I thought of Flint. I needed to know he was alive. Needed to see him. Needed—
I turned my back on Simon.
Maybe it was the worst decision I would ever make. Maybe I'd spend the rest of my life wondering.
There was an old landline mounted on the warehouse wall near what had once been an office.
I walked toward it. Every slow, limping step felt like a decision I kept making.
Behind me, Simon said nothing.
I picked up the receiver. Dial tone. My hand shook as I punched in three numbers.
“Nine-one-one. What's your emergency?”
“My name is Mallory McBryan.” My voice cracked. I swallowed and tried again. “My name is Mallory McBryan. I've been abducted. There has been a shooting. One man is dead.”
The dispatcher started asking questions.
Address. Injuries. Weapons. Whether the person who abducted me was still present.
I glanced over my shoulder.
I was alone. The warehouse was empty.
Only Brewster’s body remained. Simon's gun lay on the concrete where he'd placed it.
I stared at the place he'd been standing.
Nothing.
No movement.
No sound.
No pale brown eyes catching gold in the light.
Gone.
I closed my eyes.
Of course he was.
“Ma'am?”
I tightened my grip on the receiver.
“I'm here.”
“Are you safe?”
I looked at Elliot Brewster.
At the abandoned gun.
At the open warehouse door.
Then toward the darkness beyond it.
I didn't know.
Maybe I never would.
But I knew one thing.
“I need an ambulance,” I said. “And I need someone to tell me which hospital has Flint Carter.”
The dispatcher kept talking. Sirens drew closer.
I turned away from Brewster to look at the open door. Then I moved to place Brewster’s gun on the ground.
One dead man.
Two guns.
One open door.
I looked at it for another second. Then I turned away.
“Tell me where Flint is.”