Chapter 15 #2
We both take a quick look around the darkened living room. We wanted it to look like Bea was watching TV, maybe even fell asleep on the couch, so we turned all the other lights in the house off. And with the curtains all drawn, the intruder has no idea who else, if anyone, is in here.
He’s probably expecting someone to be with her. But he doesn’t know who. Or what we’re capable of. All he would know about the residents of the Blade and Arrow property is that it’s deeded to a pair of retired college professors in their sixties.
Two nonexistent college professors, technically. But the asshole intruder doesn’t know that.
Just like he doesn’t know that two former Special Forces operators are waiting for him inside the house instead of sweet, innocent Bea.
On the security camera, the dark-clothed man reaches the back door and starts fiddling with the doorknob.
Webb glances at me. We’ve already been through every scenario we could think of, from the obvious—the intruder entering through the back door—to more extreme methods of breaking in, like coming in through the attic or flinging a Molotov cocktail through a window.
Without needing to speak, we both take position. I tuck myself along the wall just to the left of the kitchen doorway, while Webb heads to the right. With my Sig at low ready, I hold myself still, keeping my breathing slow and silent while I listen for the intruder to come inside.
The light from the TV flickers as the program switches from show to commercial, casting a reddish glow across Webb’s face.
The back door opens with a soft snicking sound.
Then a tiny creak follows, as the intruder crosses the doorway.
Webb lifts his chin at me, and I do the same in return. Nothing more needs to be said.
I don’t need to see the asshole intruder to know where he is. I can hear him moving on careful footsteps across the kitchen. His breaths are quiet but fast. Shallow. Like he’s trying to control them, but can’t quite manage it.
Is he nervous? Or excited?
Does it matter when the end result is the same?
The man comes closer. His body odor precedes him; an unpleasant blend of sweat and onion and pine-scented deodorant. Just before he reaches the kitchen doorway, he stops. Exhales. A telltale click signals the cocking of his gun.
All my muscles tense.
Anger surges.
He thinks he’s going to hold a gun on Bea? Or worse yet, shoot her with it?
Not tonight. Not ever.
Time slows as he crosses the threshold.
I see his right foot first.
Then his body emerges.
And before he even realizes I’m beside him, I attack.
My forearm snaps down, knocking the gun from his hand.
Then I punch him in the chest, not hard enough to stop his heart, but enough to take the wind out of him.
As he gasps for air, I sweep his legs out from beneath him.
Webb races over and grabs the asshole around his neck, tightening his hold as the man bucks against him. “I’ll knock you out,” Webb snarls. “Or maybe I’ll just kill you. Honestly, I’d be happier with the latter.”
And here I was thinking Webb was the nicest of the group.
I scoop up the discarded gun with my right hand—no worries about fingerprints there—and set it on top of a nearby bookshelf.
While I’m doing that, Webb drags the man over to the dining room table and shoves him into a chair.
Then he holds him still while I zip-tie the asshole within an inch of his life.
Once he’s fully restrained, I move in front of the asshole and yank the knit mask off his head. He blinks at me, his fear a visible thing. I point my gun at his chest and growl, “So. I’m guessing you weren’t expecting us, were you?”
Webb flanks me on my right, his weapon also drawn.
“Well?” I demand. “Why are you here? Breaking into a house is a crime, you know.”
The man’s eyes flicker between me and Webb. “I thought it was my house,” he finally says. “I… I just moved. All the houses look the same.”
I bark out a laugh. He flinches. “Are you seriously going to try that shit with me?” I ask. “You broke in. Using lockpicks. I saw you on the security camera.”
“What? What cameras? I didn’t see—”
“Because we didn’t want you to see them,” I snarl. “Just like we didn’t want you to know about the alarms.”
“The alarms?”
I get right in his face. My lips bare back in a snarl. “Yes. The alarms. The silent alarms that told us you were here. About to break in. But you thought this was an easy job, didn’t you? Just a vulnerable woman, maybe a cheap bodyguard sleeping on the job, huh?”
“No. No. That’s not what I thought.” He shakes his head frantically. “I thought it was my house. I don’t know what you’re talking about. What woman? What bodyguard?”
I cock the trigger.
The man’s face drains of all color.
“We’re not playing games,” I snap. “Don’t give me bullshit excuses. You picked the lock. Broke in. Armed.” I pin his frightened gaze with mine. “But I’m armed, too. And trust me, I won’t hesitate to use it if you keep lying to me.”
“Or maybe I will,” Webb muses. His eyes narrow. “Because I really hate men who hurt women. A lot.”
The man sucks in a shaky breath. “You won’t shoot me,” he says weakly. “That would be illegal.”
I laugh at him. “Are you kidding me? You broke in. While my friend and I were just sitting here, watching TV. Legally, I have every right to use deadly force to defend myself.”
He blinks. “But.”
I grab his throat with my right hand and squeeze. “You are going to start talking. Now.”
Webb slides his phone from his pocket and holds it close to his leg. He glances down at it and turns the recording app on. Because that’s another thing we discussed. Making damn sure this guy goes away for what he did.
“Let’s start with your name,” I say. “My guess is you have your ID on you, so I could just find out that way. But I figure we can start with an easy question. So. Who are you?”
The man’s gaze jumps between my face and my gun. He swallows hard. “Manny. Manny Davis.”
“Good.” I flash him a menacing smile. “See? That wasn’t so bad. Was it?”
Manny tries to shake his head, but my grip on his throat keeps him still. “I can’t go to jail,” he says. “I can’t.”
“You should have thought about that before you broke in, shouldn’t you?”
“I thought it was my—”
“STOP. LYING!” I roar.
Manny yelps. A dark spot spreads between his legs.
Webb groans quietly. “There goes the security deposit.”
“Tell. Me.” I add more quietly. “Why are you here?”
Manny makes a low, keening sound. Indecision flickers in his eyes. “I came to find the woman,” he admits. “Beatrix.”
Rage pulses hot inside me. “And what were you going to do to her?”
He gulps. “Kill her.”
Though I knew it was likely, his confirmation threatens my self-control. I take several deep breaths before I ask, “Why did you want to kill her?”
“Because she ruined everything.”
“What do you mean, everything?”
Like a dam breaking, his words spill out in a rush.
“She was supposed to take the fall. For the woman’s death.
She’d go to jail; case solved. But she escaped.
She talked. Now the police are still looking for the killer.
The plan is all fucked up. The only way to fix it is to kill her.
Make it look like she committed suicide out of guilt. ”
For a moment, I’m speechless.
So many terrible things all at once.
Webb must sense my shock, because he jumps in. “Why did you kill the physical therapist to begin with?”
Manny looks at Webb in confusion. “The physical therapist?”
Anger hardens Webb’s features. “The woman who died. In the locker room. If you killed her, you should know who she is.” He pauses. “Did you kill her?”
I move the barrel of my Sig to Manny’s forehead. “Don’t lie.”
Manny whimpers. After a brief hesitation, he replies, “Yes. I killed her. I had to.”
“Why?” I demand. “Why did you kill her?”
“Because she saw me. Giving the injection to the patient. So she’d know it was me when the man died. I couldn’t let her identify me. So I killed her.”
“You killed her,” I repeat. “Was anyone else involved?”
Manny stares at me. “No.” His jaw sets. “It was just me.”
“Why did you kill the patient?”
“Because he deserved it.”
“Why?”
Anger replaces the fear in Manny’s eyes. “He left my dad to die. He and the others.” His voice rises. “They just left him there. They didn’t even try to save him. That man I killed, he deserved to die for what he did!”
Webb flashes me a puzzled look.
“Who was your dad?” I ask.
“He died!” Manny shouts. “He died because of them! So it’s only right that they die, too.”
“Okay.” I lift my gun away from his forehead. “You’ve done a good job so far. And I think you’re telling me the truth.”
His gaze follows my gun. “I am.”
“So tell me if I’ve got this right. You killed the patient—his name was John Adamson, but I’m sure you already know that—and someone saw you. A woman named Jenna Richards, by the way, and you decided to kill her before she could put two and two together and realize you were responsible.”
I release his neck. Manny nods. “Yes.”
“And Beatrix got dragged into this how?”
“The woman—”
“Jenna.”
“Jenna,” he confirms. “I went after her. And I heard her on the phone. Talking to someone. After I killed her, I looked to see who it was. I didn’t know what she told her. If she saw me. If she knew Adamson had died yet. I couldn’t… It was too risky. I had to do something.”
“So you had no idea if Beatrix actually knew anything?”
Manny shakes his head. “I wasn’t sure. But then… I… I had the idea. To frame her. Wait for her to come into the locker room and make it look like she killed the woman. Then no one would believe anything she said. And the plan could continue.”
I’m so fucking furious I could easily shoot this asshole right now.
He killed an innocent woman. Framed another for it. All for some fucked up plan I still don’t understand.
“So you waited for Beatrix,” I state. “And you knocked her out. Put the knife in her hand. Made it look like Jenna scratched her. Is that right?”
Manny’s lips thin. His chin takes a defiant tilt. “Yes. I couldn’t let her ruin the plan.”
Though I know there’s way more to unpack, I want to hear Manny say it himself. “Tell me again. Real clear, so I don’t misunderstand.” I lean close so he can see the threat in my eyes. “Who did you kill?”
He grimaces. “The woman. Jenna.”
“And?”
His brow furrows in confusion. A beat later, comprehension dawns. “Oh. Adamson. I killed him. Like he deserved.”
“Who did you attack?” My jaw clenches painfully. “How did you hurt her?”
He gulps. “Beatrix. The woman that was supposed to be here. I slammed her head against the locker. Then I made it look like she was the killer.”
My molars nearly shatter. “What if you’d killed Beatrix? Hurting her like that?”
Manny hesitates. “Either way, she’d look like the killer. So it didn’t really matter.”
“Fucker,” Webb mutters. “This fucker.”
Anger ignites into white-hot rage.
I want to kill him. I really do.
Glancing at Webb, I ask tightly, “Did you get all of it?”
He looks down at his phone and hits the stop button. Then he hits play. Manny’s shaky voice fills the room.
“I thought it was my house. I… I just moved. All the houses look the same.”
Manny moans.
“You’re going to confess to the police,” I say. “But this is insurance. In case you get any ideas.”
“No,” Manny says. “The plan. It’s not done.”
I want to kill him. I do. But that’s not a part of our plan.
“Oh, it’s done,” I tell him. Then I take my finger off the trigger and lower my gun. “And you won’t be hurting anyone ever again.”