61
Sean stood in the doorway to the basement and watched Joyce hang up the phone and lean against the wall in the kitchen. “Who was that?” he asked.
She spun around and, for a moment, had a look of unadulterated fear in her eyes. “You scared me. You been down there for a while. Still nothing?”
“Nothing.”
“You should call Don. Maybe he’s out of that room and can talk now.”
“Who was on the phone, Joyce?”
“No one.” Joyce pushed herself off the wall. “Wrong number.”
Sean let go of the basement doorknob he’d been holding on to and stepped into the kitchen. “Sounded like you were having a pretty extensive conversation for it to be a wrong number.”
“Nope. Just a wrong number. Calling about ordering some car service. Told them it wasn’t me.”
“Pretty late to be calling.”
“I guess it don’t matter what time it is if you need a car service.”
Sean walked the room clockwise, which caused Joyce to step back in the same circular pattern, pushing her farther from the doorway that would lead into the hall toward the front door. There was a strange silence between them that hadn’t been there before. Sean was tired. His eyes were heavy, and his head hurt. He didn’t want to do this anymore. He just wanted to sleep and wake up and have it all be over.
“I can’t find that drive.”
“Call Don. He’ll tell you where it is. You want me to call him?”
“Why are you walking away from me?”
“I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. Every step I take toward you, you take one back.”
Joyce waved her hand to dismiss his comment but never stopped moving. She was almost all the way around the kitchen now. “You’re running out of places to look for that drive thing. I don’t know what else to tell you.”
“Who was on the phone, Joyce?”
“I already said. Wrong—”
“Who was on the phone!”
The sudden rage in Sean’s voice sounded unfamiliar, even to him. There was something inhuman about it. Animalistic. A plain unadulterated rage. Before he could say anything else, Joyce turned and grabbed a large carving knife from the counter behind her, holding it out as tears began to stream down her face.
“You don’t scream in my house,” she said. “Not after what you did. You wanna know who that was? Fine. That was my brother. That was your lieutenant. He was calling for Don to tell him they found evidence at your place showing that you killed those girls and Liam’s innocent. He told me to get out of the house. The police are on the way. He’s sending them. So you stand there, and I’ll stand here, and we’ll wait for them to come, and you’ll go quietly because it’s the right thing to do. I know there’s still good in you. I know it. We’ll just wait together, and this can be over.”
Sean stood still for a moment. The house was quiet. There was no other sound. No approaching sirens, no cars hurtling down the street, no flashing lights. That meant there was still time. He needed that drive.
Joyce pushed a chair in between them and tried to get into the hallway. As she turned the corner, she lost her balance and slipped down against a small table Don had always thrown his keys on. By the time she got back to her feet, Sean was closing in, running through the dining room and cutting her off at the front door. He grabbed her arm and pulled her toward him just as she swung her knife around and plunged the blade into his shoulder. Sean screamed and instinctively punched her in the face. His grip loosened, and she pushed away, staggering back into the kitchen and down the basement stairs.
“Joyce!” he cried. The pain in his shoulder was spreading down his arm. “Joyce, this isn’t what you think. Your brother is lying. I didn’t do anything. The things they found at my house were Liam’s. I was hiding them to protect him. The flash drive is full of more lies. I need it to prove my innocence. Please! You have to help me. Joyce!”
The basement was dark. Sean stopped at the top of the stairs and tried the light switch, but it just clicked without anything turning on below. He carefully walked down to the bottom landing and unholstered his gun, waiting for his eyes to adjust before he started moving any farther. His adrenaline had kicked in now, and he was no longer feeling remorse or fear or sadness. He just knew he had to get the drive and get Joyce before she could escape from the house. Too many loose ends.
He held his gun out in front of him as he slowly scanned the area. His other hand pressed on his shoulder as blood seeped between his fingers and dripped onto the floor.
“Joyce, please,” he said. “I don’t want to hurt you. I need you to help me. I need you to be my hostage for a little while so I can explain things before SWAT busts in here and ends it. I didn’t do what’s on that drive. My brother is framing me. They won’t listen unless I make them. I need you to help me make them listen. Do you understand? Please. I don’t want to hurt you.”
Like many row homes that had been built in Philadelphia in the nineteenth century, this one had a secret door in the basement that led to a neighbor’s house. During the Civil War, these passageways had been used to move money, weapons, and supplies through other underground doors and tunnels throughout the city. Today, most had been bricked over or locked, but Don had once mentioned that their neighbor, who had lived next door longer than they had, had paid them to store a few extra things he couldn’t fit at his place. They kept the door accessible should he ever need to get in and out to retrieve something. Sean could see that the old rusted door handle was unlatched, and the door itself was pulled back on its disintegrating hinges. He made his way over to investigate. It was hard to see into the next room. He walked inside.
The neighbor’s basement was just as dark as Don’s. Sean took out his phone and turned on the flashlight. The small space was full of storage boxes, old clothes, piles of books and newspapers, and a single green kayak propped diagonally across it all. He shined the light in a sweeping pattern but couldn’t see a place where she could be hiding.
“Joyce, please. I need your help.”
There was a noise from behind him, coming from the other room. Sean scurried back in time to see Joyce leaping from behind the washing machine. His flashlight caught her face, and he saw it was bloodied and swollen from when he’d punched her. She scurried up the stairs, her feet thumping on each wooden step until she reached the kitchen.
“Joyce!”
“Somebody help me!”
“Joyce! Get back here!”
Sean flew up the stairs, two at a time, and lunged into the kitchen just as Joyce was turning the corner into the hallway that would bring her to the front door. He followed, sliding around the corner, stopping suddenly when he saw Joyce standing halfway between him and the door, frozen, unmoving. He raised his gun and aimed it at the man who’d just come in.
“What’re you doing here?” Sean asked, his head cocked to one side, his breath heavy from running. “You . . . you shouldn’t be here.”
Liam took a single step forward and stopped. He raised the Glock he’d taken from Phillips and aimed it at his brother. “No, this is exactly where I should be.”
62
Joyce slid against the wall and fell to her knees. Liam could see her out of the corner of his eye but concentrated on his brother. Phillips’s gun felt heavy in his hand, and he struggled to keep it up and straight.
“Sean, I need you to put the gun down and let me help you.”
Sean spat out a laugh and shook his head. “I don’t think you can help me, little brother. I’m pretty sure we’re way beyond that.”
“We’re not. I know everything. I know you killed those girls. I know what you did to Kerri. I know about you and Vanessa, and that’s why you tried to frame me. But it’s not too late. I can still help you. Despite all of this, I still want to help you.”
“You don’t know anything,” Sean replied. “You think you know, but you have no idea.”
The two brothers continued ai
ming their weapons at one another.
“I know I want to help you,” Liam said. “I know you’re my brother, and I know you’ve been there for me my whole life. For Christ’s sake, Sean, you saved me when Mom tried to kill us. Now it’s my turn. Your head’s just all messed up right now, but I can help you make things right again. It doesn’t have to end like this.”
Sean looked up at the ceiling, his eyes welling with tears. “Why do you want to help me? I don’t deserve it. What I did to you. I don’t deserve it.”
“I don’t care about that. Put the gun down, and we’ll call this in. I’ll ride with you to the station, and we’ll have Don meet us there. We’ll all do this together. You won’t be alone.”
“Don’s . . .”
Joyce lifted her head from her knees and looked up at Sean. “Don’s what? Don’s what, Sean?”
Sean began to cry. “I’m sorry.”
Joyce climbed to her feet, a fresh set of tears forming in her eyes and falling down her cheeks. “Sorry about what? What did you do? Where’s Don? Where’s my husband? What did you do?”
“I’m sorry.”
Joyce rushed over to Sean and grabbed him by the jacket, tugging him back and forth, no longer fearful of the gun in his hand. “What did you do!”
“Leave me alone!”
Sean pushed Joyce away, and she fell to the floor.
“Drop the gun!” Liam shouted.
“No!” Sean screamed. He swung the Beretta away from his brother and aimed it at Joyce, who was cowering and crying on the ground below him. “Enough of this! You drop the gun, or I kill Joyce right here. If you know everything, then you know I’m not bluffing. I’ll kill her like I killed the rest of them. You can shoot me if you want, but I’ll kill her first. Now drop it!”
“Sean, I—”
“Drop it or she dies!”
“Okay!”
Liam placed his gun on the floor.
“Slide it away from you.”
He kicked it behind him and heard it hit the wall by the front door. Sirens began to fill the air but were still a good distance away. Liam raised his hands. “I want to help you. Please. I just want to help. We can get through this. Together. Like we’ve always done it.”
Sean opened his mouth to speak, then stopped and looked past Liam. “Why are you here?” he muttered.
Liam turned around just as two shots exploded from behind him. Sean grabbed at his chest as he was thrown backward and to the floor, his gun skipping out of his grip and sliding away. He lay at the end of the hall, motionless. The immediate quiet of the house was in sharp contrast to the commotion and screaming that had been going on only moments before.
Vanessa was standing inside the doorway, the gun she was holding—Phillips’s gun—still raised in a shooting position, her hands shaking violently, smoke rising from the barrel.
“Vanessa?”
She looked at her husband, then collapsed, unconscious.
Liam ran over to his wife as Joyce scurried past them both, pushing the front door open and falling out onto the porch as neighbors spilled from their homes to see what was going on. Outside, he could see the flashing red lights of emergency personnel turning onto the street accompanied by the beautiful sound of an intrusive and wailing siren.
63
The emergency room was already busy without the army of police personnel taking up most of the area. With all the extra bodies, it was almost impossible to move around. Uniforms stood post at the entrance to the ER as well as at the ambulance bay and stair exits. The press was kept outside in the parking lot, but more news vans were turning in and setting up their live feeds. It was going to be a long night.
Phillips walked into Vanessa’s room with Heckle, Keenan, and the two Internal Affairs detectives, Farmer and Nix. He had his phone out, ready to record the conversation they were about to have. Vanessa was sitting up in her bed, physically unharmed but emotionally scarred. She’d been forced to shoot her brother-in-law in order to save Joyce and Liam. It was a heroic act but one that had consequences on the back end. Phillips knew her sleepless nights and debilitating nightmares were still to come.
“How’s Joyce?” Vanessa asked.
“She’ll be okay. Broken nose. Loose tooth. Bumps and bruises. She’ll be fine.”
“What about Don? Did you find him?”
“We found him,” Phillips replied, then shook his head.
“Oh.”
“How are you?”
“I’m okay, I guess.”
Phillips slid a plastic chair across the room and sat next to the bed. The others stood in the corner. “I need to ask you a few questions.”
“Okay.”
“Let’s start with what happened. Walk me through everything.”
Vanessa took a breath. “I was at home, and a call came to my cell. I didn’t recognize the number, but with everything going on, I figured I should answer. It was Liam. He was frantic. He told me he found evidence that pointed to Sean as the killer and that Sean was dangerous and I needed to stay away from him. He said he was going to Don’s house to get him, and they were going to go to the station together. He said he found out about our affair, but he didn’t care right then. He just wanted to make sure I knew Sean was the killer and to stay away from him. I hadn’t seen Liam since everything went crazy, so I got in the car and drove to Don’s. I wanted to see him and hear everything for myself. I couldn’t believe what he was saying, but at the same time, I knew he was telling the truth. I just knew it.”
Phillips nodded. “Why didn’t you call 911? Or me?”
“I don’t know. I wanted to see Liam, and I figured if Don was there it would be okay. I had no idea Sean was going to be there. When I got to Don’s house, I heard all this yelling, so I snuck up to the porch to see what was going on. Sean was chasing Joyce. He had her cornered, but then Liam was there. Sean made Liam drop his gun, and it ended up right where I could get it. I knew I had to do something. In, like, a split second, I thought about what Sean did and how he was trying to blame it all on Liam. Instead of being scared, I got angry. I wanted him dead. I wanted all this to be over, so I crept inside the door, and before Sean knew what I was doing there, I shot him. Twice. He had to die for what he did to all of us. He had to.”
Vanessa fell back on her pillows. Phillips waited a few beats before continuing.
“How long were you and Sean having an affair?”
“A little over a year. It just kind of . . . happened. He was so supportive of me and what I was going through after my mom died. He became like this security blanket for me, and at the same time, things between me and Liam started falling apart. I guess one thing led to another.”
“And you had no idea about this other life he was leading?”
Vanessa looked at the lieutenant. “Of course not. Those other girls. The only thing I can think is maybe he wanted Liam out of the way so we could be together. Maybe he thought he could expose the affair Liam was having by killing Kerri? Maybe he was going to pin those other murders on Liam too. I have no idea. Or maybe no one was supposed to find out about those other killings.”
“That’s quite a theory.”
“What else would make him do all those things? It’s all such a mess. Maybe he knew I’d never leave Liam. We never talked about it, but he knew I wanted to work things out in our marriage. And we were getting better, Liam and me. I love my husband.”
Phillips nodded and stopped recording. “We’re going to have to match some dates and times with you to officially clear the investigation, but we can go over all that later. You need to get some rest.”
“Okay.”
“You did the right thing. My sister’s alive because of you. You’re a hero.”
“I don’t feel like a hero.”
“I know. But you are. You saved lives tonight. You’re my hero.”
The door swung open, and Liam walked into the room. Vanessa sat up when she saw him, a smile appearing instantly on her face. “You made i
t.”
“I made it.”
Phillips rose from his seat and motioned toward the other detectives to leave. “We’ll let you guys catch up. I need to get back over to Joyce’s house. She needs me right now. Vanessa, they’re going to discharge you first thing in the morning. They want you to stay here tonight so they can monitor that bump you took when you fainted. Better that way. Let the media out there die down a bit. I’ll come by in the morning, and we can talk more.”
“Okay.”
He looked at Liam. “You holding up?”
“Yeah. Considering.”
The men filed out of the room, leaving husband and wife alone together. There was a silence between them that was thick and uncompromising.
“Liam, I’m sorry,” Vanessa finally said.
“For what?”
“That you have to go through all this. Your brother. What he did to you. What I did to him. What I did to us. Everything.”
“Thanks. You came at just the right time. I’m pretty sure he was going to kill me and Joyce. You saved us.”
“I did what needed to be done.”
Liam walked farther into the room. “I can’t stay. I have to get back to the station and finish filing my statement. It’s been a long few days.”
Vanessa wiped a tear from her eye. “Can I have a hug?”
“I have to go.”
“Just one.”
Liam leaned over and hugged his wife. She whispered in his ear as she pulled him tighter.
“I’m not proud of what I did. I’m sorry.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Liam whispered back. “It’s over. Everything. We’re finally over. I’ll have my stuff out of the house in a few days.”
“Why? Why would you say something like that?”
“Because whatever we once had isn’t there anymore, and people died because of it. We both need to start fresh. There’s no recovering from something like this.”
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