Thirty-Six and a Half Motives: Rose Gardner Mystery #9 (Rose Gardner Mystery Series)

by Denise Grover Swank

  “Are you sure?” Kate asked in an amused voice.

  “Oh, my God,” Hilary spat out, turning to face her. “You call me a monster, yet you’re the one who’s enjoying this horror show. What does that make you?”

  “Unsatisfied.”

  “Maybe this will help,” J.R. sneered, and the sound of gunfire burst in my ears. “Is this what you wanted, Kate?”

  I dropped to a crouch—we all did—and a red stain began to blossom across Hilary’s chest as she fell to the ground. I cast a glance toward Skeeter, but J.R. stood between us.

  I screamed as I heard another gun shot.

  Skeeter squatted and shoved his hands against the back of his legs, breaking the zip-tie. Then he ran for Neely Kate who stood a few feet from him at the edge of the equipment.

  Joe leaned over Hilary’s body, grabbing her wrist to feel for a pulse.

  Kate sat on the desk and laughed.

  But Joe ignored her and pulled out his cell phone, starting to make a call.

  “Drop it,” J.R. said, pointing his gun at Joe.

  “What are you going to do?” Joe asked, getting to his feet, then taking a step toward him. “Are you going to shoot me? Go ahead and do it! You’ve taken everything else.”

  “Not yet.” J.R. lunged and grabbed my arm, pulling me toward him and putting the gun to my temple.

  “Call 911, Joe,” I said, surprised I felt so calm. “You need to get an ambulance for Hilary.”

  He looked at me with a blank expression. “She’s already dead.”

  Grief washed over me like a tidal wave, making my knees weak. He’d lost another baby. My gaze turned to Hilary, her hand covering her stomach, protecting her baby even in death. She’d never stood a chance with her upbringing and considering what J.R. had done to her . . . what he had turned her into.

  J.R. didn’t seem to notice the desperation around him, or perhaps he just thrived on it. “That was unfortunate, but she’d proved herself incompetent time and time again, not to mention she was warned to keep her mouth shut. Why won’t people listen to me?” He looked over and realized Skeeter was gone. A wry grin lifted his lips. “Malcolm left you? That’s an unexpected surprise. No matter. You’ll do for now.”

  He placed me between himself and the dark factory as he started to limp toward the window.

  “Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Joe snarled.

  “Rose and I have unfinished business,” J.R. said as he continued toward the window. I let him lead me, too overwhelmed by the sight of Hilary’s now mostly red shirt.

  So much death. So much destruction.

  Kate was not amused. She hopped off the desk. “This is my party, and it isn’t over yet.”

  “That’s your problem, Kate,” J.R. said. “You never know when to let something go.”

  Joe suddenly dove for the gun I’d kicked toward Hilary. He rose to a squat, pointing the weapon at his father’s head. But J.R. viciously shoved his gun into my temple, making me cry out in pain.

  “Stay back,” J.R. said. “Or I’ll make her suffer even more.”

  “Shoot him, Joe,” I pleaded. “Even if you miss and hit me, I’d rather die here than let him do what he has planned.”

  “You’re not dying tonight,” Joe said. “No one else is dying tonight.”

  “Maybe one more person,” Skeeter called out before I heard another gun shot.

  But J.R. had already ducked behind me, and the bullet zipped over my shoulder. Before I knew it, J.R. was on the move again, tugging me toward Henry Buchanan’s office. A new terror filled my head. If he got me in that room and locked the door, I knew I would wish I were dead.

  I tried to kick him with my heel, but he stood far enough behind me to avoid contact. Grabbing a handful of my hair, he pulled me backward, using me as a human shield.

  When he reached for the doorknob with the hand holding the gun, I decided it was time to try another escape. As if he could read my mind, he gave my hair a vicious jerk.

  I tried to drop to my knees to avoid being pulled into the office, but his hold on my hair kept me upright. Once we were clear of the door, he shoved me hard into Henry Buchanan’s office. He slammed the door, plunging us into darkness, and I heard the click of the lock.

  How was I going to get away from this maniac? Then it hit me. I could hide in the closet to buy myself some time. I had the advantage of knowing the layout of the room, and I’d bet money that J.R. hadn’t been in here for years, if ever. The factory had no electricity, so I could use the lack of lighting to my advantage. At least until he pulled out his phone and turned on the flashlight.

  As quietly as possible, I groped for the closet doorknob. Within seconds, I had closed myself inside of it. With any luck, he hadn’t heard me—there was enough of a racket outside the office door to cover any smaller sounds. The problem was that I didn’t know how to lock the closet door from the inside.

  I took a step deeper into the closet, bumping into something in front of me—something that felt like a person. Terrified, I pulled my phone out of my jeans pocket and turned on the screen to produce a low glow. I gasped when I discovered Mason bound to an office chair with duct tape, his mouth taped shut. His eyes widened when he saw me.

  “Mason,” I whispered in shock as I ripped the tape from his face.

  “Rose, you have to get out of here,” he whispered, his eyes wild. “There’s a bomb.”

  “What?”

  “Kate set up a bomb. It was her grand finale. Go!”

  I heard J.R. cursing and metal scraping the floor in the other room, as well as the muffled shouting in the warehouse.

  “I can’t,” I whispered, setting the phone on a shelf before squatting in front of him to work on the tape restraining his right wrist to the chair. “J.R.’s in the other room looking for me—he’ll be here any second. How’d you get here?”

  “Kate,” he whispered. “I was about to head to my meeting with the state police when she called. She said that you were in trouble here at the factory and that we couldn’t involve the police. She picked me up and brought me here.”

  Which is why I didn’t see his car.

  “Once we got here, I figured out you weren’t here—yet. She hit me over the head in the closet, and when I woke up, she was putting the finishing touches on my duct tape. She told me that I was going to be part of the explosive big finale. Then she closed me in here. She has enough explosives to blow this whole place up.”

  Great.

  The sounds in the office abruptly stopped, and my heart hurt from beating so hard.

  “Rose?” J.R. called playfully on the other side of the door. “Where are you?”

  I tried to work faster, but Kate had gone crazy with the duct tape. “We have to hurry.” I was on the last layer. “I still have a gun in my coat—”

  As if by some cosmic joke, the door opened to reveal J.R., a wicked gleam in his eyes. A light behind him produced a glow that made him look like an angel.

  The angel of death.

  I gave one last tug on Mason’s tape, then stood and faced the monster.

  “Well, isn’t this a surprise? Mr. Deveraux. I planned on inviting you to my own meeting, but I had no idea you were invited to this one.”

  “I’m just the life of the party,” Mason said dryly.

  One side of J.R.’s mouth quirked up. “Not for long.”

  I moved to shield Mason’s body, hopefully hiding the fact that his right hand was now free. “He’s not part of this.”

  “As Kate so eloquently said about Neely Kate, Mason Deveraux is very much a part of it. But I’ll deal with you first.”

  I put my hand in my coat pocket, intending to pull out my gun, but it caught on the edge of the seam. J.R. grabbed my left arm and dragged me out of the closet before I could pull it free. He spun me around and I stumbled, my right hand reaching for something to brace myself against my impending fall. But he held me upright and slapped me, and his left palm connecting with my cheek with
more force than I could have expected. My body slumped as bright white lights filled my vision.

  “Rose!” Mason shouted behind me. “Leave her alone, Simmons! I was the one who filed charges against you. I was the one who came up with a plan to put you away forever. If you want to punish someone, punish me.”

  “Not to worry,” J.R. said good-naturedly. “You’re next.” Then he slapped me again.

  I fell to the floor this time, my ears ringing. The shouting and noise on the other side of the door dimmed. Even Mason’s shouting faded as J.R. hit me several more times, using his fists this time. An inky blackness hung at the end of my vision, and I knew I was about to pass out, which would mean certain death. And then he would win.

  Again.

  But I refused. I refused to let him hurt the people I loved. I refused to let him hurt anyone else. Ever. I never questioned if I would live. My only goal was to get the gun out of my pocket and stop him. To end this.

  Only I couldn’t even reach my pocket, let alone get out the gun. He was holding my right arm, using it to keep me in place as he hit me with his right fist. Then he laughed and released his hold as I fell to the floor, face-first.

  I wasn’t prepared for the first kick to my ribs. Nor even the second. I started to crawl toward the door, all my thoughts bent on escape.

  A loud noise shook the building, and pieces of the ceiling rained down upon us. But if J.R. was worried, he didn’t let it show. He acted as though he had all the time in the world. Grabbing me by the arm again, he hauled me to my feet, even though my rubbery legs refused to hold me up.

  Fight, something deep within me screamed. Fight.

  I clung to it.

  He released my arm and grabbed my hair to hold me in place, leaning his face so close to mine I worried he was going to kiss me. Instead, he laughed. “Not so pretty now. And not so tough. You’re all talk, Rose Gardner, but don’t feel too badly. Most people are.”

  My anger exploded.

  I spat blood and saliva in his face, and then I grabbed his arm holding my hair as I kneed him in the thigh where I’d shot him the week before.

  He shouted and released me, stumbling backward and landing on the floor in front of the office door. He clutched his leg, cursing.

  With my escape blocked, I tried to reach for the gun, but my hand was too shaky to get the gun out of my pocket. I scrambled into the closet, praying that Mason was close to getting himself loose from the chair and could help.

  Horror filled his eyes when he saw me. I could only imagine what I looked like.

  “Oh, my God. Rose.”

  I shook my head, which felt like it had been driven through with a spike. My intention was to help him get his legs free now that both his hands were unbound, but nausea washed over me and I threw up.

  “Rose!” Mason shouted in warning, so I wasn’t surprised when J.R. grabbed the back of my coat and started to pull me backward. My shirt slid up as I scooted across the floor.

  Smoke filled my nose, and I looked back to see white wisps of smoke floating in under the door. If J.R. didn’t kill me, the fire would.

  I made a last-ditch effort to get my hand into my pocket. I made it this time, but getting the gun out took more coordination than I currently possessed.

  J.R. rolled me over onto my back, pure happiness shining in his eyes. “I knew you’d be a fighter.”

  I heard gunshots on the other side of the door, but while a distant part of my mind wondered if Kate had shot someone else, I couldn’t think about that right now. My mind was a jumble of thoughts I could barely put together. I had to accept that the gun wasn’t coming out of my pocket. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t shoot him through my coat.

  “You won’t win this time,” I said, hoping he understood the words in spite of my swollen lips. I started to get up but couldn’t find the energy. “I’m stopping you, J.R. You won’t hurt anyone ever again.”

  “Those are big words for someone who’s about to die.”

  “If you’re gonna finish me off, do it with your bare hands. I don’t think you have it in you.”

  He grabbed the front of my coat and lifted me to my feet, shoving my back to the wall. I let out a grunt as I hit, just before his hand tightened around my throat.

  My hand was still in my pocket, but my mind was already addled, and the lack of oxygen wasn’t helping. I wasn’t sure where the tip of the gun was pointed. For all I knew, it was aimed at my feet. But if I didn’t shoot soon, I’d pass out from a lack of oxygen.

  I twisted my wrist and angled it upward, hoping I wasn’t pointing it at my own head. Just as my vision started to fade, I squeezed the trigger, thankful I didn’t feel the sting of a bullet—but J.R.’s grip didn’t loosen.

  More gunshots rang out in the factory, sounding closer than before. I squeezed the trigger again just as the door burst open.

  Smoke billowed in from the outer room, and a dark figure entered with it, but I couldn’t see a face. Then again, I couldn’t see much of anything anyway.

  More gunshots filled the room, which surprised me because I was pretty sure I hadn’t pulled the trigger of my gun.

  Then Mason burst from the closet, tackling J.R. to the ground. Mason stayed down with him, repeatedly punching him as I slid to the floor.

  “Deveraux, we have to go,” Skeeter shouted above a roar. “This whole place is going up.” He was next to me in seconds, looking me over. “I’m going to get you out of here.”

  I nodded, starting to sob.

  “Deveraux!” Skeeter shouted, about to scoop me into his arms.

  Mason climbed to his feet, but when he leaned over to haul J.R. up, another gunshot rang out. Mason’s body slumped sideways and he fell to the floor as J.R. climbed to his feet, holding his gun. His smile was wobbly as he took a step backward.

  “Mason!” I screamed.

  Skeeter pushed me down and then stood, shielding me with his body as best he could, his gun trained on his old mentor. But there was no way to shield every part of me. I was a sitting duck.

  “It’s over, J.R.,” Skeeter said. “Just give it up.”

  “I taught you better than that, boy,” J.R. sneered, pointing his gun in my direction. “I taught you to never give up.”

  “You taught me a lot of things that I should have never listened to, but I’m tellin’ you now. Give it up. You’ll never get out of here alive.”

  “You’ll make sure of that, won’t you?” J.R. taunted, then coughed.

  “I think we can reach some sort of compromise. A trade.”

  Mason was still lying on the floor, not moving. I swallowed my rising terror and the urge to crawl over to him. To do so would compromise Skeeter’s safety as well as Mason’s. I had to wait this out.

  “What kind of trade?” J.R. coughed again and placed his hand to his chest, which I realized was covered in blood. His? Mason’s? Both?

  “I’ll let you walk out of here without any further injuries if you agree to leave without hurting anyone else.”

  J.R. laughed. “You think I’m going to trust you?”

  Skeeter rose to his full height. “I give you my word.”

  “Your word?” J.R. shook his head in contempt. “Since when did James Malcolm give his word?”

  Skeeter remained still. “I’ve changed, Simmons.”

  “You’ve gotten soft.”

  “No, I’ve found something worth fighting for.”

  “Her?” J.R. scoffed. “Why is she so special?”

  “She’s taught me that life is meaningless without people to share it with.”

  J.R. laughed, then began to cough. “Fine. Be a pansy. The old James Malcolm would have shot me already, to hell with everyone else. I’m glad you don’t work for me. I can’t stomach the sight of you.”

  Skeeter barely flinched, the only visible sign that J.R. had gotten to him.

  J.R. took a step back. “If that’s the way you want it, I’ll back out of here and leave you be, but if you follow”—he waved
his gun between us — “I’ll hunt you both down and make you wish I’d killed you this time.”

  Skeeter’s body tensed, but he nodded. “I can live with that.”

  “I can’t,” Joe said out of nowhere, his body filling the doorway.

  A gunshot went off and J.R. fell to the floor in a heap. Joe stomped over and stood over his father’s body, then pulled the trigger one more time.

  “Simmons!” Skeeter shouted. “Deveraux’s been shot!”

  Both men knelt beside Mason’s unmoving body, and I felt my consciousness slipping away.

  No!

  I had to make sure Mason was okay. But my eyes burned and my chest felt tight. As much as I tried, I could barely keep my eyes open, even when Joe picked me up, cradling me to his chest as he strode through the smoke-filled building. A section of roof over the factory equipment collapsed with a loud crash, and the last thing I remembered was the cold night air as Joe passed me off to someone else.

  Chapter 34

  I woke up to an irritating, continuous beeping noise. My eyes were too heavy to open, so I blindly reached to turn off my alarm, but something tugged on my hand. Terror sent my heart racing, making the beeping noise increase.

  J.R. had caught me.

  I bolted upright, gasping in fear, but confusion settled in as I took in my surroundings and registered the shooting pain in my side. I was in a hospital room. There was an IV in my arm, and I could feel something wrapped tight around my chest under the hospital gown I was wearing.

  “You’re okay,” Neely Kate said in a soothing voice, lightly stroking my arm. “You’re safe.”

  I turned to look at her, starting to cry even though I wasn’t sure why. “What happened?”

  “Joe and Skeeter got you out just in time. The building collapsed seconds later.” Tears filled her eyes. “I’ve never been so scared in my life.”

  I tried to shake my head, but pain shot through my skull. I pressed my fingers to my temple, trying to ease the ache as well as shake my memories loose. “I’m forgetting something. Something important.”

  Worry filled her eyes. “You have a bad concussion, Rose. The doctor said memory loss is normal. It should all come back.”