Chapter 30
Hope flooded Lexie’s system in a powerful pulse. She bent her wrist, gritted her teeth against the pain, and tore through the last remnants of the duct tape. Adrenaline stirred, fresh tendrils of it surging through her veins as she felt it give and peel away. Her eyes skittered to Esme who’d run out to investigate the shot. Through the open doorway, Lexie could see the front end of her car, and realized that they weren’t in a cellar or a basement, but something much bigger, like a barn.
Oh, god. What if this doesn’t work? What if she catches me before I can reach the gun? What if it isn’t even in there? Well, she thought, with a lump in her throat and a picture of Nico in her mind, then I will die trying.
Esme was coming back now, her features painted with anger and fresh resolve. Lexie whimpered, watching her stalk toward her. She counted down in her head as Esme raised the knife—three, two, one, go!—and burst from the chair, throwing herself toward the wall. Her knees buckled as soon as she put weight on them, grazing roughly against the floor. Her limbs felt weak. Wild thrums of her heartbeat belted her ears. She dove her hand into the purse and dug around in desperate search of the one last hope she had. About the same instant she felt the gun touch her fingers, Esme’s own hand tangled in her hair, and she was dragging her back with brute force. Lexie let out a bloodcurdling scream as she felt a hot slice of pain in her side.
“Bitch!” Esme launched her across the room with a strength she had no right to possess. The metal chair, still bound to Lexie’s other wrist, came too, thrashing against her as she smashed into the opposite wall.
Lexie’s vision danced and swayed. Her head, her back, her whole body screamed out in agony. She tried her best to follow Esme’s movements, watched as she advanced on her with wrath in her eyes and fresh blood on her hands. But then, like the hand of god himself had slapped her, Esme’s features changed. Shock, disbelief, scorn, all mixed together, bathing her in a wicked scowl.
“Do you even know how to use that?” she asked, eyeing the barrel Lexie had pointed at her.
Lexie cocked the hammer. “Try me.”
She did. Calling her bluff, Esme took a bold step forward.
Lexie shifted her arm slightly to the left, fired a warning shot—the first and last one she would get—into the wall behind her. “Stay away!”
“You don’t want to shoot me,” she said, and it was true. But she would if she had to.
A crash sounded, and the most beautiful noise Lexie had ever heard penetrated the walls.
“Police! Everyone on the ground! Drop the weapon!”
As the unmistakable bellows of gun-wielding officers reached them, Esme’s eyes became saucers.
“Lexie!” Nico’s voice hit her ears.
“Nico!” she shrieked.
“No!” Esme’s howl tore right through Lexie’s relief as she lunged.
Lexie squeezed the trigger.
Nico’s heart lurched at the first shot, then stopped beating altogether when he heard the second. He had not prayed in a long time, but he did now. He prayed he had not failed again. Prayed he was not too late. Please, he begged, spotting the back end of her Camry as they poured into the barn. Not again. Not this time. “Talk to me, Lexie! Where are you?!”
“Back there.” Seth pointed to an adjoining structure made of old stone bricks, with a big door connecting it to the main part of the barn.
“Lexie!” The ensuing silence killed him as he raced past her car and cleared the second entrance. He heard an anguished mewl emanating from the other side. And then there she was, cowering against a wall, her mouth wide, her body shaking, her eyes haunted with tales of untold horror.
Nico, trusting the others who had followed close behind to cover him as he ran to her, skidded to his knees. “Lexie. Baby, look at me. Are you hurt?”
Fighting the urge to crush her against him and never let go, Nico flipped open his pocketknife and cut through the duct tape that bound one of her wrists to an upturned chair. Her shirt was stained red. He checked her over for injuries. Aside from a nasty gash on the back of her head and some bruises, she appeared alright. Then he found it, a deep knife wound in her back, just above the hip bone. Shock was setting in fast and hard. Her skin was ice cold, and she did not respond with so much as an eye flutter to his touch or his words. The sight of Lexie like this carved at his soul like a cheese grater.
“Where is she, Frank?” Nico threw the tense question over his shoulder as he stroked Lexie’s cheek, gently tilted her chin up, willing her to look at him. Instead, she looked through him. Her skin had paled so much it was almost translucent. He couldn’t see the gun anywhere.
“Oh my god, it’s Kyle Garrett,” Zoe said from behind him, drawing Nico’s sharp gaze. She wasn’t wrong. Kyle’s lifeless body lay in the corner.
“Shit,” Frank shouted before he came stalking back through toward the door. “She’s not here. There’s blood though. And a broken window leading out into the woods. She must have squeezed herself through.”
Torn between leaving Lexie in such a state and going after the woman responsible, Nico took a few labored breaths. Her whole body was trembling, but small flickers of awareness had come into her eyes since he’d started coaxing her back to reality. “I can’t, man. I can’t leave her like this.” He pushed the hair back from her sweaty forehead. Her pupils were dilated.
Frank had already reached the door. “Alright, you stay. Call it in. I’m going after her.”
He left before Nico could say anything else.
Christ, what was he doing? He couldn’t let Frank go out there alone. At the very least, he should send Seth or Zoe with him. A glance back at the pair of them—inexperienced and rattled—halted that plan before it began. He knew neither of them would hesitate to follow Frank if he ordered them to, but the fact was, they were little more than teenagers. Nico couldn’t have another young death on his conscience. It had to be him.
“Lexie, look at me.”
He pushed command into his voice. He needed to know she would be okay. Her eyes met his. She focused on his face. Even now, in this place, under these circumstances, he saw love there. Warmth spread through Nico’s chest. He took her mouth, pouring everything he felt for her into his kiss, before shifting back to look at her again. For a moment, she seemed dazed, then her entire expression became panicked. She gripped his arms. “Where is she? Nico, where is she?!”
“Shh. It’s okay, you’re safe. She took off. We’ll get her.”
“You have to go.” She pushed weakly at his chest. “You can’t let her get away. She’ll come back. She’ll—” Her words choked on a sob.
Nico gathered her up in his arms and carried her from the floor to the hood of her car, placing her down with care. He found a roll of duct tape and used it to wrap pressure around her waist and stem the bleeding. “Are you still with me?”
“Yes. Go,” she urged. “Please.” The words sounded like they were being ripped from her throat, a plea from some dark place inside her that burned with fear and misery. She didn’t want him to babysit her or hold her hand. She wanted him to leave, to hunt down the person who did this to her and make her pay.
Nico peeled off his jacket, draped it around her shoulders, and pressed a fierce kiss to her forehead. “I’m sorry.”
“Call for backup,” he ordered as he ran outside. “Do not leave her side!”
Both officers nodded wildly. Zoe went to Lexie. Seth reached for the radio at his shoulder. “This is Hayes. I’m at two Oak Drive, requesting backup and an ambulance immediately . . .”
The rest faded as Nico hurtled out of the barn and into the night. After picking his way through grass that reached his knees, he caught up with Frank at the ground-level window Esme had escaped through.
“Look at this,” Frank said, the beam of his flashlight reflecting fat droplets of crimson liquid leading away from the building. Wherever Esme was, she was bleeding heavily.
Nico let loose a sigh of reluctant determination. “She can’t have gotten far.”
They followed the trail into thick woodland, pausing periodically to listen for signs of a person running, or limping, for her life.
I’m coming for you.The savage thought felt good in the forefront of Nico’s mind, drove him on when ideas of circling back and returning to the woman he loved surfaced. No, he told himself. Not until I finish this.
Sirens wailed in the distance. The sound sent a warm flux of relief coursing through his veins. Not for himself, but for Lexie. If something happened to him, she would be safe. She would be taken away from this place and given the care she so desperately needed right now.
When they reached far enough into the dense mass of trees that the house, their cars, and everything else became lost amongst the thicket, Nico stopped and glanced uneasily at Frank. What he read in his face matched his own gathering sense of foreboding. A hush fell over the forest. The air pulsed with dread, growing icy and still.
The sharp snap of a twig close by brought both their arms up, weapons aimed in the direction the noise had come from. Then the piercing crack of a gunshot echoed through the quiet. Nico ducked while Frank let out a guttural shout and dropped like a stone. Two more shots came, clipping a tree above Nico’s head. He dove for dirt.
“Frank! You alright?”.
“I’m hit.” Hissed through clenched teeth, Frank’s words hit Nico like a bus.
“How bad?”
“Fucked if I know,” he growled back. “Bad enough.”
Nico scrambled for their dropped flashlights and switched them off. They couldn’t see Esme, but evidently she could see them. Keeping low, he army crawled over to Frank, felt the warm wetness spreading across his taut stomach, and winced.
“Goddamn it. Here,” he took Frank’s hand and pressed it against where he guessed—it was so dark; he couldn’t be sure—the wound was. “Put pressure on it.”
“Mother fucker!” Frank spat. “I’m gonna kill that rancid bitch.”
Despite the heavy weight of fear settling in the pit of his gut, Nico smiled at Frank’s outrage. Getting shot in the line of duty was something he’d proudly avoided during his long career. It appeared breaking that clean sweep was royally pissing him off. Surly candor aside though, if they didn’t get him to a hospital soon, Frank wouldn’t be making threats of revenge for long.
Nico grabbed his radio and got Seth.
“Shit, man, are you guys okay?” he asked. “We heard—”
“Frank’s been shot. Get some EMTs out here ASAP. Be advised, suspect is still armed and dangerous.”
Nico kept his ears pricked and his guard up, in case Esme decided to make another play, while awkwardly unbuttoning his collared shirt one-handed. The memory of putting it on that morning felt like eons ago as he removed it.
“Alright, copy that,” Seth said. “We’re on our way. You watch your ass.”
Left wearing only a thin white tee atop his jeans, Nico’s muscles tensed against the chill as he bunched his shirt and maneuvered it under Frank’s now drenched and slippery hands. They were shaking. His breathing had quickened to the shallow pants of a man in terrible pain.
“Don’t even think about it, old man,” Nico said, pushing his weight into the makeshift bandage. “You’re not going anywhere.”
“Neither are you,” Frank grunted accusingly.
Nico understood what he meant. He expected him to continue the pursuit, to leave him behind. “Not a chance.”
“Fuck that. Don’t get”—he coughed, spluttered, and wheezed and Nico’s throat tightened—“soft on me, kid. Go on. Get after her.”
“No way. I’m not leaving you here like this.”
For a man losing copious amounts of blood, Frank’s arm was surprisingly strong as it shoved Nico away. “Go,” he urged. “You’re”—gasp, gurgle—“gonna lose her!”
“How far do you think she’s gonna get in these woods, huh? I’m staying right here, you hear me?”
He might have heard, but he sure as hell wasn’t making it easy. Twice Nico tried to return to Frank’s care and twice he shook him off.
“Don’t make me knock you out,” he warned on the third.
Frank grabbed him by the shirtfront, jerked him close. “She’s g-getting away. She’ll come after you again. After her.” Quiet but intense, Frank’s words penetrated Nico’s conviction like a, well, like the bullet currently lodged in his own flesh. “Go!” he whispered.
Nico hated the idea. He battled with himself—and with Frank —for a good minute or two more, before finally succumbing to the pressure. “You promise to be here when I get back?”
Frank gave a slight chuckle. “S-sure thing, kid.”
“Stubborn asshole.”
“Go,” he said again, so Nico did.
Cursing, he retrieved his flashlight from the ground and walked away, knowing full well it might be the last time he ever saw his new partner alive again.
Anger boiled inside him as he flew through brush and undergrowth, rage and hatred for Esme Riley. She had hurt too many people, caused too much suffering, and for what? So that the world might get a taste of the pain she felt every day? It wasn’t good enough. It was nowhere near good enough. There was a time when Nico ached to take that pain away for her, to see the years reversed and her daughter alive again. But the world wasn’t fair, and the time for gentle understanding for what she’d experienced was over. Not one, but two people that Nico had come to think of as family had now been infected with her poison, not to mention the women she’d murdered without remorse. Frank and Lexie would never be the same as long as they lived. If they lived, he corrected himself, thinking of Frank lying back there, bleeding out alone. He powered on, sniffing and blinking back the unbidden tears that burned behind his lids. Now was not the time.
Before long, Nico reached a clearing. Adrenaline took the edge off his aching thigh as he cautiously waded through the light blanket of fog that coated the earth beneath his feet. Grass and wildflowers grew freely, their color and vibrancy beautiful even under the harsh fluorescent glow of his flashlight. Not that any of it grabbed his attention for more than a nanosecond, because right in the middle of all of it, sat a granite headstone. Nico faltered, reading the name. The words, Beloved daughter, were engraved in cursive underneath the larger block font, with a winged angel hovering above. This was where they buried Sara. Esme leaned against it; her legs curled beneath her. Nico adjusted the grip on his gun and approached. Despite his intention to unleash hell, the sight of her like this tore every wound open again, deflated every ounce of hot air within him. Looking at her like this, all he felt was tired. Esme looked at him through hooded eyes, squinting into the beam of light, exhaustion and defeat carved into her aging features. Her dark hair was a muss of dry, graying strands. One bloodied hand gripped Lexie’s gun. Her skin shone with sweat and the bleached complexion of a dying person even as she hissed viciously.
“Come to finish my family off?” she asked.
Nico didn’t flinch. He felt the urge, but his emotional well had run dry. There was nothing left. “It’s over, Esme.”
She huffed, closed her eyes. “You should never have come here—”
“Stop.” Nico shook his head. “Don’t try to lay blame on me for the things that you’ve done. Don’t you dare.”
Esme glared. In truth, he did regret his presence having been the thing that pushed her over the edge, but that’s as far as it went. He did not regret coming, nor would he allow himself to add any more guilt to the heavy load already on his shoulders. He just wouldn’t.
“The gun,” Nico said in the calmest, most collected tone he could muster. Though weak and wounded, she’d already proven herself capable and more than willing to use it. And it was still in her hand. “Now.”
She hesitated. Nico tensed.
“You don’t deserve to be happy. She doesn’t deserve it.”
“Shut your mouth,” Nico snapped. “Don’t talk about her like you know her.”
Esme’s sudden sob caught Nico off guard, her face crinkling into the ugly cry of utter heartbreak. She wailed and moaned, the sound raising the hairs on the back of his neck. Nico locked onto her movements, tracked her every motion. She had nothing to lose now. He acknowledged how dangerous that made her as he demanded again that she give up the gun.
Esme’s head fell forward, and she gazed at the revolver in her hand—the same one that had left a gaping hole in Frank’s body, and possibly, in Nico’s life if he died.
“I told you,” she whispered, then pierced him with cold, hard eyes. “I will mourn forever.”
With a speed Nico wouldn’t have thought her capable of, Esme lifted the gun.
But Nico was faster.
He felt the bullet whiz past his ear at the same time he fired two shots into her chest. Esme went limp. The thud of the dropped weapon landing on the grassy floor between them hung heavy in the air, and shouts from reinforcements reverberated through the clearing. Nico took a relieved step back.
I will mourn forever.
Esme’s last words drifted through Nico’s mind one last time as she died on her daughter’s grave. He watched the life leave her eyes and hoped she found peace, for this adversary was not some villain driven by greed or cruelty or a misplaced sense of self-righteousness. She was a mother, angry at herself for the choices she’d made and the nightmare they had led to. Through loss, she had become a monster, and now the monster was slain. Nico let the knowledge that no more death would come in the name of Sara Riley wash over his aching heart and quell the rage that had lived there ever since she’d died. Perhaps, if he was lucky, one day it would also heal his guilt for lives lost and mistakes made.