CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Selena stopped beside the mailbox.
Deb Mosley’s dining room glowed behind cream curtains. The silhouettes of two figures moved somewhere beyond them, but the fabric and glare made it impossible to distinguish either woman.
Wind pushed leaves along the road and rattled the bare upper branches above the roof. Kelly halted at Selena’s shoulder, weapon held low near her thigh.
The front door remained closed. Carol’s silver Honda sat at the curb facing away from them, ready to pull straight onto the road. Deb’s car occupied the drive.
No neighboring curtains moved. The nearest porch light belonged to a house beyond a stand of maples, too far away for anyone there to hear a struggle through closed windows. The branches behind Deb’s roof shifted against a sky without stars.
Selena pictured the fourth packet on Carol’s desk. Deb outside Harry’s Print Shop. Deb eating lunch in William Screech Square. Deb’s new address written beneath a photograph crossed through at the mouth. At the bottom of the page, Friday and eight o’clock.
Seven fifty-three showed on Selena’s watch.
Kelly glanced toward the empty street behind them. “Should we wait for Kelvin?”
“No. Deb may already be hurt.”
“That’s the answer I wanted.”
Selena took out her radio. “Kelvin, status?”
His reply came through a wash of static. “Cleared Carol’s place. Still a few minutes out.”
“Continue to this address. Suspect vehicle is a silver Honda Civic parked at the curb. Approach without lights or siren.”
“Copy.”
Three minutes could be longer than Deb had.
Selena pointed toward the east side of the house. “Kelly, circle around and cover the back. Tell me if you see movement.”
Kelly nodded once. “I’ll stay on the radio.”
They separated at the drive.
Selena crossed the front lawn without using her flashlight. The dining-room curtains had not been drawn completely. As she approached, a shadow passed behind them and disappeared toward the rear of the house.
She stopped and listened.
Nothing followed.
At the porch, Selena climbed the two wooden steps and pressed herself beside the doorframe. The brass handle rested at shoulder height. No damage marked the lock or jamb.
She knocked hard.
“FBI. Deb Mosley, call out.”
The dining-room light vanished.
A second later, every other light in the house went with it.
Selena tightened her grip on her weapon.
“Carol Fen, we know you’re inside. Move away from Deb and come to the door.”
Something struck the floor beyond the hallway.
A soft scrape followed.
Selena tried the handle.
The door opened.
She stepped back, surprised by the lack of resistance. Carol had either left in a hurry or wanted her to enter.
The latter felt more likely.
Selena raised her weapon and pushed the door wider with the toe of her shoe. “FBI. Show me your hands.”
No one answered.
The smell of cooked food reached the porch. Wind moved the curtain near the dining-room window, though the glass appeared closed.
Selena crossed the threshold.
Her left shoulder brushed the wall as she found the light switch. She pressed it twice. Nothing happened.
The power had been cut.
Selena drew the compact flashlight from her belt and held it beside her weapon. The beam traveled over a sofa, a low cabinet, and framed prints arranged along the wall. A wine bottle stood on the dining table beside two plates. One chair had been knocked backward.
A table knife lay on the floor beside one place setting. Its rounded dinner blade reflected the light.
One plate stood almost untouched. A water glass had overturned near the edge of the table, its contents running through a dark red smear. One place mat had bunched toward the hallway. The wine bottle remained upright, absurdly undisturbed beside the signs of violence.
Selena moved the beam over the wall. A shallow cut marked the paint near shoulder height. Below it, a blond hair clung to the corner of a framed print.
The struggle had begun here.
Selena advanced toward the dining room.
“Deb?”
A drop of blood marked the pale rug beneath the table.
Another dark spot lay near the chair. The beam followed a broken line toward the hallway.
Selena pressed the transmit button on her shoulder radio. “Kelly, I have blood inside. Front door was unlocked. No visual on either woman.”
“I’m at the rear,” Kelly replied. Her breathing carried faintly over the channel. “Kitchen door won’t move. It’s dead-bolted, and the frame’s reinforced.”
“Come back around the front.”
“On my way.”
Selena passed the table.
A steak knife lay beneath one of the chairs, clean and unused. Whatever weapon had caused the blood trail was nowhere in sight.
The blood trail continued into the hall.
Some drops were round. Others had dragged across the floor, as though a bloodied foot or piece of clothing had brushed the boards. A smear darkened the wall at hip height. Near the baseboard lay one small gold earring, the post bent beneath it.
Selena left it where it had fallen and continued along the blood trail. Carol had attacked Deb before the lights went out, but the trail suggested Deb had remained on her feet long enough to reach the hall. Whether she had run toward the cellar or been driven there, Selena could not tell.
The house creaked as the wind pressed against it.
Selena stopped near the first doorway and directed the flashlight inside. A small study. Empty chair. Computer monitor off. No person behind the desk.
The next room was a bathroom. The shower curtain hung open. Beside it, a deep linen cupboard stood ajar. Selena swept the beam across shelves crowded with towels and spare bedding. Nothing moved.
At the end of the hall, blood gathered near a closed door.
Selena held her position and listened.
A faint sound came through the wood.
Not speech. A low, unsteady breath.
“Deb, can you hear me?”
The breathing stopped.
Selena pinned the flashlight against her left palm and used that hand to turn the knob, keeping her weapon trained on the opening. Her reflection moved across a framed photograph on the wall beside her. Deb stood in William Screech Square, smiling beside two women Selena did not recognize.
The knob turned.
Selena pulled the door toward her.
Cold air rose from a narrow staircase.
The flashlight revealed unfinished walls and wooden steps descending into a cellar. Blood streaked the third and fourth treads. At the bottom, a woman lay curled on the concrete floor beneath the beam.
Short blond hair.
Black blouse.
Deb Mosley.
Her clothes were dark with blood near the shoulder and side. One leg bent beneath her, and her left arm stretched toward a toppled chair.
“Deb.”
Behind Selena, bedding shifted inside the linen cupboard. Carol came out low and fast.
She started to turn.
Both palms struck between her shoulder blades.
Selena pitched forward.
The flashlight flew from her left hand and struck the wall. Her weapon slipped from the other, hitting a step before bouncing into the cellar.
Selena caught the railing with her left hand.
Her weight wrenched the arm backward.
The wrist snapped.
Pain exploded from her fingers to her elbow. Her grip vanished, and she tumbled down the remaining steps.
One knee struck wood. Selena felt something snap inside of it. The side of her head hit an edge hard enough to burst white across her vision. She rolled over the final tread and landed on the concrete beside Deb.
For several seconds, Selena could not breathe. The pain from her knee was unbearable.
Sound withdrew into a distant hum. The flashlight lay halfway down the staircase, its beam angled across the cellar wall.
A copper pipe ran above stacked boxes. Shelves held jars, cleaning products, and old paint cans.
Beside the stairs, the electrical panel stood open with the main switch pulled down.
Carol had killed the power deliberately.
Pain returned all at once.
Her left wrist lay beneath her chest. When she tried to pull it free, the joint moved where it should not.
Selena bit down on a cry.
Warm blood ran from her hairline into one eyebrow. Her ribs protested when she rolled onto her side.
Deb remained less than two feet away.
The woman’s shoulder rose.
Alive.
A cut ran from beneath Deb’s collar toward the top of her arm. Another wound darkened the fabric along her side. Neither showed the heavy pulsing Selena would have expected from a major artery, but too much blood had already spread beneath her.
“Deb,” Selena said.
Deb’s eyelids moved without opening. A wet breath caught in her throat.
Selena pushed herself upright with her right palm. Her weapon lay beyond Deb, close to a workbench. The muzzle pointed toward the wall. Three feet separated Selena’s fingertips from the grip.
A shoe appeared on the top step.
Carol Fen descended slowly.
The large knife hung beside her right thigh. Its blade carried a dark coating from point to handle. An empty leather sheath remained clipped inside the waistband of her trousers.
Selena forced herself onto one hip.
“You don’t need to do this, Carol.”
Carol stepped down without replying.
Her movements held none of the frantic energy Selena expected after an interrupted attack. Each foot settled before the next left the tread. Calm had returned to her, the same calm that must have carried her into Karen’s cabin, Ruth’s house, and the barn where Linda died.
“I do need to do this,” Carol said.
“Deb’s alive. Put the knife down, and we can get help for both of you.”
“Help.”
Carol gave a small shake of her head.
“Deb needs to pay like the rest.”
A groan came from the floor.
Deb’s fingers moved near Selena’s knee. Blood covered the side of her blouse, but the wounds appeared to be high along the shoulder and ribs rather than across the throat. Carol had not finished.
“You don’t need to silence her,” Selena said.
Carol reached the middle of the staircase. “She spoke more than the others.”
“She tried to help you.”
“They all said that.”
“You found them through HearthSpace,” Selena said. “You made them trust you, then used what they told you to get close.”
Carol continued downward. “They trusted me because I understood them.”
“You understood where they would be alone.”
“They wanted privacy.”
“You turned it into opportunity.”
For the first time, Carol’s composure wavered. Her lips pressed into a narrow line, and the knife shifted closer to her leg.
Selena shifted her right leg beneath her. The movement dragged her left arm, and nausea rose with the pain.
Upstairs, a floorboard creaked.
Kelly.
Carol heard it, too. Her attention lifted toward the open doorway.
Selena moved.
Her right hand slid across the concrete toward the pistol.
Carol came down the remaining steps faster.
Selena stretched until her shoulder burned. Her fingertips reached the base of the grip but could not close around it.
Carol kicked the weapon. It skidded beneath the workbench, but she made no move to retrieve it, her grip tightening instead around the knife. Selena pulled her arm back before the blade could come down.
“You’re making this worse,” she said.
“No.” Carol stood at the bottom of the stairs. “You did that when you came inside.”
Selena glanced toward the beam from the fallen flashlight. It reached the lower wall but left Carol’s upper body in shadow. Kelly would have difficulty seeing from the doorway.
“Kelly,” Selena called. “Cellar. Armed suspect.”
Carol stepped toward Deb.
Selena moved between them.
Her injured wrist dragged against the floor. A cry escaped before she could stop it. She lowered herself across Deb’s upper body, shielding the woman’s neck and chest with her own.
Deb stirred beneath her.
“Help...” she whispered.
“I’m here.”
Carol stopped an arm’s length away.
The knife rose.
“Move away from her so I can finish this!” she said.
Selena pressed her right forearm against the concrete and held herself over Deb. Blood from the cut near her temple fell onto Deb’s blouse.
“Please don’t do this.”
“Move!”
“No!”
Carol’s expression tightened. “She took my life from me!”
“Andrew chose to remarry. Deb didn’t make him do that.”
“She told me to leave.”
“You asked her what she thought.”
“I trusted her.”
“Then blame her for bad advice. Don’t pretend that makes murder reasonable.”
Carol’s grip changed around the handle.
From the staircase came the muted scrape of a shoe.
Selena kept her attention on the knife.
“Karen, Ruth, and Linda couldn’t give you your marriage back,” she said. “Killing Deb won’t either.”
“You don’t know what they did.”
“I know exactly what you think they did. You let four women make a decision for you, then spent months telling other women to do the same thing. When Andrew moved on, you needed someone else to carry the blame.”
Carol’s breathing quickened.
Selena saw the moment her words reached whatever remained beneath the certainty. The knife dipped by an inch.
“Put it down,” Selena said. “You can still choose what happens next.”
Carol stared at Deb.
“She was the worst.”
“Then let her live with knowing that.”
A broken sound came from Deb. “Carol...”
Carol froze.
Deb’s voice was barely audible beneath Selena. “I’m sorry you were hurt. But I didn’t choose for you.”
The knife trembled.
Selena felt Deb’s breath against her sleeve. Speaking had cost her what little strength remained, but the words had reached Carol in a way Selena’s argument had not.
For a second, grief replaced the anger.
Then Carol’s mouth hardened.
Deb shifted under Selena, a faint tremor passing through her.
Carol took another step.
The blade lifted above her shoulder.
Selena lowered her head over Deb’s.
“I’ll cut through you to make her pay!”
“Carol, drop the knife!” Kelly shouted.
Carol did not turn toward the stairs.
The knife remained raised. There was no going back for any of them.
Two shots rang out.
The first punched Carol forward. The second turned her sideways. The knife fell and clattered beneath the shelves.
Carol struck the concrete near the bottom step.
Selena heard Kelly descend, but the sound stretched and distorted. Her vision narrowed around the fallen flashlight and the pale strip it cast across the wall.
Kelly reached her and kicked the knife away.
“Selena, stay with me.”
Selena tried to answer.
No words came.
Kelly pressed two fingers against her neck, then reached toward Deb.
“Kelvin, get EMS in here now,” she said into her radio. “Two gunshot wounds, one stabbing victim, and an agent with a possible head injury and broken wrist. Cellar entrance off the rear hallway.”
The ceiling shifted above Selena.
Kelly’s voice came closer.
“Stay with me, Selena. Don’t close your eyes.”
Selena intended to obey.
The strip of light on the cellar wall narrowed to a thread, then disappeared.