CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
"Right this way," Carver said when she reached the building. Carver opened the door, but went in first.
That suited Alison. As long as she could keep Carver in front of her, she wouldn’t need to worry about being struck down from behind. And she knew that Carver had taken care in how she subdued Alison. Carver needed to make it look like a failed murder attempt for her plan to work.
Unless she’s already dealt with Sterling, and this is just to kill me.
Alison’s body was tense, ready to spring into action, as she followed Carver into the dark and dusty building.
Do you have everything ready? Are you planning on staging another murder from the past?
Do you have photos to spread out around Sterling’s body to make it look like all the others?
Will you make it look like Serling got to me somehow before he died, or will you stage it to look like a suicide?
Perhaps you will kill me and claim you caught me in the act.
You would come out of it looking like a hero.
Except you know that my associates know I’m to be framed, and it would look too suspicious for me to be killed now.
The thoughts leaped through Alison’s mind as she followed Carver down the dim hallway toward a light at the end.
Alison knew by the small amount of illumination in what looked like a large room at the end of the hallway that the light source was the same as the one in the hallway: sunlight.
A small amount filtered in through the gaps in the ceiling above, and more natural light entered the room at the end.
Carver didn’t look back. Alison scanned the floor for anything she could pick up and use as a weapon. As soon as she saw Sterling, she could attack Carver and claim it was self-defense. There was nothing but dust, small stones, and dirt on the floor.
Carver entered the large room and immediately went right, out of sight of Alison.
"Dr. Carver?" Alison called.
"Dr. Payne is here to speak with you," Carver said from the large room. "We’re through here, Alison."
Alison didn't hear Sterling in the large room. She didn't hear anything coming from there. She looked around again, but there were no weapons to take hold of.
What are the options? I make a run for it, and Sterling is in there, and she kills him? Or, I go in there and hope I can delay enough until Hartley gets here. If she ever gets here.
Alison moved quickly into the room, but immediately went to the right, backing into the room to see Carver standing with a gun pointed at her. Alison immediately froze.
"I wasn’t sure if I would have to come back for you," Carver said. "What was it? The building? The abandoned area of the city? You got there in the end, didn't you, but it took you far too long. You really are too trusting, Dr. Payne."
"What are you doing?" Alison asked, raising her hands. "What’s going on? Where’s Sterling?"
Alison spotted Sterling as soon as she said it. He lay face down on the floor, to the right of and behind Carver. His arms were spread wide, and he was shirtless. However, he was still breathing. His torso rose and fell gently.
Alison only stared at him for a second before her eyes were drawn back to the gun.
She had expected some form of weapon, but not a gun.
She wasn’t sure why. Carver had used a gun on two previous victims, not discriminating when one of them caught her in the act.
At least, that was the assumption of what had happened.
"What’s going on?" Alison asked.
"Don't play dumb," Carver said. "I knew you knew as soon as you hesitated in the car.
You tried to keep me talking in there after I brought you to an abandoned part of the city.
Why would Kenneth hide out here, right? But you had to see for yourself.
You had to come inside to know you were right. Well, surprise!"
Carver grinned wildly and raised her free hand in the air, waggling it.
Good, she doesn’t suspect that I’ve already messaged for backup.
Alison only hoped that they didn't come with all sirens blazing.
"What have you done to him?" Alison said.
"That’s the wrong question," Carver said, pouting. "It’s far more interesting to wonder what I will do to him, or what you will do to him. You do understand that it was me all along, don't you? I don't have to spell that part out for you."
"You took my hair," Alison said, as if she’d just realized. She couldn’t take her eyes from the muzzle of the gun.
"None of this was planned at the time," Carver said. "I knew that it would be me versus you, and some instinct told me to take your DNA. And now, we’re both here. Well, the three of us are here."
"What will you do to him?" Alison asked.
"It’s not the right place, but they’ll recognize it as the Angel Slayer," Carver said.
"Oregon, 1974," Alison said. "The killer took people he deemed to be wicked, and then carved wings into their backs before stabbing them repeatedly in the back."
"Exactly," Carver said. "You know your history.
They may have had the religious connection, but they didn't see until after, not until the Slayer told them explicitly, after being caught, that the wings were copied from a stained-glass window of the church he went to.
Police were in the church multiple times, and they didn't see it.
If they had, they would have been able to narrow down the search. "
"Another mistake," Alison said. "That’s how this started out."
"That’s how it will end," Carver said. "When they find you here with him, both of you dead, they’ll investigate more, for sure, but it’ll make sense to them, and when there are no more deaths after this one, it’ll satisfy them. I might even plead your case to make myself look more innocent."
"But that’s not how it ends," Alison challenged, even though she had a gun pointed at her (and not for the first time).
"What does that mean?" Carver asked, her interest piqued.
"It means that this started out with your mistake eighteen years ago, didn’t it?
Then, you went to work for the DOJ after you felt you were blamed for the failure, and that ate away at you.
You put my picture on the body alongside yours, but I don't think you did that accidentally or to create a diversion.
Perhaps you did it in the hope I would be drawn here, and you could go up against me, or maybe you do blame me for what happened eighteen years ago. I know you don't like me."
Carver smiled, but there was anger in her narrow eyes.
"Of course, it’s your fault. I had my theory about the case, and you had yours.
You thought you were right about theirs, but you never fought for it.
If you had, I wouldn’t have been blamed for the death of three innocent victims. I don't believe it would have led to the killer, but I wouldn’t be the one left in the mud. "
"You really blame me?" Alison asked, scared, but wanting to understand.
"I was blamed for all of it, and I had to leave my position. I went to work for the DOJ while I watched incompetent people around me get what they didn't deserve. Kenneth was useless, and he still had more of a consulting career than I did. You didn't fight for what you believed in, and now, you’re lauded for your work. All everyone can talk about is you. Perhaps it’s poetic justice that it’ll be the two of you at the end. "
"I saw it the first time in the hotel lobby," Alison goaded, doing what she could to delay some more. "I saw that anger in you. The jealousy."
"Of course, I’m jealous. One moment ruined my career, but it didn't ruin yours, and it was all your fault.
Then, you get everything handed to you on a silver platter.
" She sighed through her nose, taking a step toward Alison, who held her ground. "I’ve had to watch as ineptitude spreads and people are rewarded for their incompetence. I’ve provided superior analysis and insights to law enforcement for decades, but professionalism alone is no longer enough. Not in this corrupt world."
"And you change that by killing people?" Alison challenged.
"You asked me a question earlier about whether I believe there will be changes after I'm done.
" Carver rubbed her forehead. "Yes, I believe there will be.
That will be thanks to the two of us, but neither of us will get the credit.
You will die a martyr, and people will hate you for what you didn't do.
I will live on without being acknowledged for what I've accomplished.
I shall have to live with that, and you… Well, you won't."
"So, that’s it?" Alison laughed.
"I’m the one holding the gun," Carver reminded her, taking another step forward. "You’re amused by your impending death?"
"I’m amused by someone so brilliant relegating themselves to pettiness," Alison said.
There was a monetary flash of light to her left, but she didn't turn to look in its direction.
"My pettiness?" Carver asked.
"That's all this is," Alison told her. "You can hide behind pointing out mistakes in previous cases all you like, but you can only do that with hindsight. This is not about that, but about trying to justify that you weren't the one who made the mistake back then."
"This ought to be good," Carver said with a wide smile. "Go on, assess me!"
"You were the experienced profiler eight years ago, and while I had completed my training, no one was going to listen to me. If you thought I was at all right in my assessment, you would have said something. You thought you were right and that I was wrong, and it’s as simple as that.
You want to blame me and everyone else around you, but you won't blame the person who deserved the blame: yourself. "
"Is that it?" Carver shrugged. "Are you done?"
"At least admit it before you kill me," Alison said. "At least be brave enough to acknowledge that you’re the one to blame for everything that’s happened to you."
"You need to shut your mouth!" Carver warned.
"You talk about Sterling not changing over the years, but you’re exactly the same," Alison pointed out. "After all those years, you still can't accept the truth. Sterling hasn’t changed, but neither have you."
"Okay, that’s enough," Carver warned. "I was going to make you watch as I killed him, but a few minutes won't make much difference to forensics. It’s time for you to go, Alison. You gave it your best shot."
Carver made sure the gun was pointed directly at Alison’s forehead as she strode forward with purpose.
Alison closed her eyes. Perhaps she hadn’t delayed enough after all.
The gunshot exploded through her head.