by Mallory Kane
“Hah. By pure luck. The only thing Nicky did right was sneak up on him. Brian practically walked into the blade. Then Nicky was sick all night. So high-maintenance, poor boy. Too weak,” Tracy went on conversationally. “Booze and H worked for a while, but bless his heart, he didn’t want the drugs. Said he wanted to get clean. Silly boy. But then he decided Dev needed to know everything. I couldn’t let him do that. It would have made Dev so unhappy.”
Reghan was finding it hard to keep up with Tracy’s ramblings. She was a lot like her father—in their minds, the things they did made perfect sense. But not to anyone else. Their behavior was totally irrational.
Reghan swallowed hard. Irrational and unpredictable. That described the woman in front of her to a tee. Not much hope of anticipating Tracy’s next moves. So now what?
She had to think. She took in a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart.
Something familiar tickled her nose. A sweet odor lingering in the air. Where had she…?
“That smell,” she cried. “It was you.”
Chapter Thirteen
Tracy frowned at Reghan. “Smell? What on earth are you talking about?”
“You use some kind of sweet almond shampoo, or body lotion, or perfume, don’t you?”
An amused look passed over Tracy’s face. “Nice catch, Reghan. The serum I use on my hair to make it look unwashed and unkempt is scented with almond and honey. Limp, greasy, straight hair added to the Tracy persona.” She touched her hair. “It’s not easy to wash out.”
Reghan stared at her. She sounded like a commercial. But despite her bland voice, her odd eyes were wide open, wild, like a spooked horse. Her hands were white-knuckled and her body spring-coiled tense. Crazy.
“You were at the crime scenes,” Reghan said. “And in the pink bedroom at the center, I noticed the sweet scent but I couldn’t identify it.”
“Naturally, such a subtle, expensive scent would escape you,” Tracy said with exaggerated patience. She swept her hand out, cutting the air with the scalpel. “I don’t know why the old man likes you. I think he’s getting senile.”
At last Reghan saw a possible way to push her off-balance. “Did the warden get in touch with you? Do you know your father is dead?”
“What?” Tracy froze in mid-gesture. Her jaw clenched, and her eyes became even wilder. “What are you talking about? He was just fine when I talked to him last week.”
Reghan felt a twinge of triumph. Finally, she was in control. Now to figure out a way to escape. She pretended surprise. “You mean you haven’t seen him since he was put into the prison hospital?”
Tracy bared her teeth at Reghan. “You’re lying. Stop it, you conniving bitch. You can’t fool me.”
Reghan eased backward. “No. It’s true. The message is on the answering machine, right there.” She pointed. “Go ahead. Listen to it.”
Tracy came toward her. Reghan tried to back away but her foot hit Mintz’s leg and she almost tripped.
“Liar. It’s time to kill you.”
Reghan forced a laugh. “Surely, you don’t expect me to stand still and let you slit my throat?”
“I expect you to do exactly as I say.” Quick as a flash, Tracy lashed out with the scalpel.
Reghan leapt back, whipping up her hand to ward off the attack. The scalpel hit the metal splint with a thunk. Her heel hit Mintz’s leg and this time she fell. She landed hard on her bottom, right at the edge of the pool of blood. She scrambled to her feet.
“You’re lying about my father,” Tracy accused through clenched teeth. “He’s not dead. Say it. Say you’re lying.”
Reghan shook her head. “No. He’s dead. I swear.” She darted a glance down at her hand. The metal splint had been nicked by the scalpel. Had the blow dulled the blade?
Not that it mattered. The crazy woman still had Mintz’s gun.
How far away was the door? Too far. Even if Reghan could outrun Tracy, she couldn’t outrun a bullet.
“He died this morning, Tracy. It’s over.”
“No. You don’t understand anything!” Tracy screamed. “I don’t care what my father wants anymore. This is about Dev and me. As soon as I take care of the problems, Dev and I can be together.”
Ah.
Dev.
The last of the puzzle pieces fell into place. The woman really was delusional if she thought that was going to happen. And it appeared she’d already forgotten about her father. “Dev doesn’t love you. He could never love you. You killed his boys.”
“He’ll forgive all that as soon as I get rid of you.” Tracy beamed at her. “You’re our last problem.”
“Dev won’t forgive you if you kill me. And Tracy—what about your father? What about what he wanted?” She took a chance. “He told you not to hurt me, didn’t he?”
“The old man is insane.”
Reghan suppressed the urge to laugh. “He’s insane?”
But Tracy didn’t hear the sarcasm. “He felt that Dev stole the thing he valued most—his freedom. So he was determined to take away what Dev valued most—the kids he rescued. My father wanted me to kill Dev’s kids one by one, then kill Dev. I want my father to be proud of me. And he is. Do you know that he had no idea I’d finished medical school? It was my second degree, after law.” She brandished the scalpel. “When he found out, he was so excited and proud. He told me to use a scalpel to slit the boys’ throats. He said it fit his vision of revenge on Dev.”
Tracy was becoming even more agitated. The hand that held the scalpel trembled.
The phone in the office started to ring.
Reghan’s heart leapt. She had to keep Tracy talking. Maybe whoever was trying to call would realize something was wrong and come to investigate.
“Didn’t it bother you that your father wanted you to kill for him?” she asked. “Why would you even consider something so awful?”
“I never knew who my father was until I requested a copy of my birth certificate. Then I couldn’t find him until he was arrested and his name was in the paper. I was there at the trial, every day. He kept looking at me, and I knew he was calling me to come to him, to be the instrument of his revenge.” She spread her hands with a flourish and inclined her head in a bow. “That’s why I had to do it.” Then she frowned. “But he was wrong about Dev.” Tracy gestured with the scalpel. “So wrong.”
The phone stopped ringing. Please let them come.
“How was he wrong?” Reghan urged.
Tracy’s pale eyes flickered. “It was so hard to balance everything. He wanted Dev’s kids dead. But I knew that would make Dev sad. So I chose Nicky to do it. Bad choice.” She shook her head sadly. “He was too weak.”
“So you killed Darnell and Jimmy and Nicky yourself. You do have their blood on your hands. Dev won’t be able to forgive you for that—”
Tracy clenched her fists. “Dev will forgive me. He loves me. He told me so.”
That brought Reghan up short. “He told you?”
“Don’t patronize me,” Tracy snapped.
Immediately, Reghan regretted her surprised outburst, but it was too late. Tracy’s attention had been safely turned inward for a while, but now she’d refocused on her. “Do you really think Dev can forgive you?” she quickly asked. “How will you make him understand?”
“After I killed Nicky I stopped. That makes it okay.”
“You didn’t stop. What about him?” She indicated Mintz, then swallowed. “And me?”
Tracy shook her head in agitation. “I had to. You spoiled everything. That police officer’s death is your fault. But once you’re dead, everything will be all right. Dev will forgive me.”
Still no sirens. No one was coming. Reghan had to get out of this herself.
“How long has Dev been in love with you?” She estimated the distance to the door. How fast could Tracy get that gun out of the waistband of her skirt? How good a shot was she?
“He’s always been in love with me. We’re soul mates.” She pointed at
Reghan. “Now you need to shut up. It’s time for you to die.”
Reghan licked her dry lips. “You’ll never have Dev if you kill me. He’ll hate you.”
A dangerous glint came into Tracy’s eyes. “Now you’re being stupid again. He wants you dead, too. He knows it’s all your fault that those boys had to die.”
“My fault?”
“He told me.”
What was she talking about? “Dev blames me for the boys’ deaths?”
“Yes,” Tracy said triumphantly. “It’s right here. In this note.” She pulled a much-folded piece of paper out of her jacket pocket and held it up.
It was the back of a used envelope with jotted notes in pencil, but Reghan couldn’t read them. “I don’t see anything,” she said, watching Tracy closely.
“Oh please. You are so stupid.” Tracy waved the paper. “It’s all right here.”
“May I see it?”
Her question seemed to bewilder Tracy. She looked at the paper, then at Reghan, then back at the paper. She didn’t want to let go of it, but seemed desperate for Reghan to believe her.
Maybe she could push Tracy down if she got close enough. Dangerous. One swoop of the scalpel and Reghan could die. But she didn’t see any alternative.
“Look. Right here, it’s a list of the people he loves,” Tracy said, pointing with the scalpel. “Penn, Katie, Tracy. He underlined my name four times.”
“He underlined your name?” Reghan repeated. “That’s your proof?”
Tracy’s face grew red. “Don’t talk to me like that,” she cried. “Your name is not even on the list.” She started toward Reghan. “You mean nothing to him!” She raised her hand and daylight glinted off the scalpel’s blade. “It’s time for you to die.”
…
Dev spotted the empty police cruiser in front of the center as he parked a few buildings away. A sick certainty settled into the pit of his stomach. Mintz and Connor were here. There was only one reason the officer wouldn’t answer Dev’s calls.
He couldn’t wait for backup. Not when Connor’s life might be in danger.
His heart squeezed with an anguish he hadn’t felt since the night his sister had died. It was the pain of emptiness, of loss. His heart had been empty for so long he’d gotten used to it. Now he realized Connor had filled up that hole in his heart with love.
She loved him.
Another kind of pain clutched at him, too. Just as deep, just as all-consuming, but this pain was poignant and bittersweet, reminding him of Thibaud. Dev had never had the courage to put a name to it. Until now.
He loved Connor.
The thought of losing her stole his breath. No wonder he’d been terrified after they’d made love. He’d been denying that emotion for so long in his life, he’d convinced himself he didn’t even know what love was.
But Connor had been right all along. Everything he’d done in his adult life had been for love: love for Thibaud, love for Penn and Katie, love for the teenagers he was determined to help. He’d just never had the courage to admit his feelings.
Regret nearly overwhelmed him. He’d never told Thibaud he loved him.
And now it might be too late to tell Connor. He didn’t think he could stand to have that space inside him empty again, not now that she had filled it with her love.
He sprang from his car, drew his service revolver, and sprinted for the center. A fine mist of rain began to fall, blanketing the world in silence, muffling his approach. He ducked into the alley beside the building and circled around back to the kitchen door. His heart in his throat, searching desperately inside himself for the icy calm that made him a good cop, he quietly unlocked the door and slipped into the kitchen.
Cautious, silent as a predator, he sidled along the wall toward the door to the front room. Then he heard them.
Connor was talking. The strain in her voice was obvious, as was her courage. “How is Dev is going to react when he finds out you’re Fontenot’s daughter? You think he’ll want you then?”
Dev flattened himself against the wall beside the door. So he’d been right about Tracy.
Where the hell was Mintz?
He willed Connor to keep asking questions. Come on, Tracy. Say something. Give away your position.
Chapter Fourteen
Dev didn’t have to wait long.
“I told you to shut up!” Tracy screamed shrilly.
It sounded as though she was somewhere to Connor’s right, which meant he’d be able to see Connor without Tracy seeing him—he hoped.
“You’re just trying to distract me,” Tracy went on. “Dev knows everything about me. He loves me.”
He frowned. What the hell were they talking about? He eased closer to the door until he caught sight of Connor’s hair, which was loose around her shoulders. She was about fifteen feet away, half facing the kitchen door. Behind her, lying in a large pool of dark blood, was Mintz.
He clenched his jaw. Had another life been taken because of him?
He had to stop Tracy, now, before she killed Connor, too. If he was careful in his approach, he could stay just on the other side of the kitchen doorway and out of Tracy’s sightline. The only trouble was, when he moved, his shadow would disturb the light shining through the kitchen door.
With agonizing slowness, he eased into Connor’s line of sight, praying that his presence wouldn’t spook her, and that his shadow wouldn’t attract Tracy’s attention. When he was able to see her face, it was all he could do not to moan with love and relief. The hem of her skirt was soaked in blood, but he figured it was Mintz’s, because she didn’t appear to be hurt.
He stood ramrod straight as her eyes flickered toward him. Don’t, Connor. Don’t look at me. She had responded like a seasoned professional in front of Nicky’s door. He prayed she could keep her cool now.
Her eyes widened slightly, hopefully not enough for Tracy to notice. To his relief, she turned back toward Tracy without a twitch. “Dev doesn’t love you, Tracy. He and I made love last night, right here. He wants me, not you.”
Damn, Connor. Are you trying to get killed?
“He left you and came to me later,” Tracy cried. “He spent the night with me.”
Dev’s jaw dropped. The girl was certifiable. Slowly, he crept closer. Close enough to see Connor’s knuckles turn white.
“I’m sick of your whining. Dev will be waiting for me.” Tracy’s voice had risen in pitch. She sounded wild. From long experience as a cop, Dev recognized that shrill, staccato speech pattern. She was highly unstable, highly unpredictable, and therefore incredibly dangerous.
He was about halfway to the door.
Reghan gave a forced snort. “Do you actually think you can kill me with that little scalpel?”
He smiled grimly. So Tracy had a scalpel. Good job, Connor. Good instincts. She was a kick-ass partner.
Tracy laughed, and the sound chilled him to the bone. “You still don’t get it, do you? I’d rather cut you. But if you want to run, go ahead. Look what I took off your little watchdog over there.”
Dev cursed silently. Tracy had Mintz’s gun. Cop-issue 9mm Glock. At such close range, Connor would never survive.
Even as the thought hit his brain, Connor spoke. “Tracy, be careful. That gun is loaded.”
“No kidding.”
Connor stepped backward and threw her hands up in an instinctive defensive gesture. “Tracy, don’t!”
Dev dove through the doorway, leaping in front of Connor. He whirled in mid-air, training his gun on the place where he’d figured Tracy would be standing.
A shot rang out. A ten-ton truck slammed into him.
Behind him, Connor screamed.
He fired twice, but as he fell in slow motion, he knew he’d missed.
The floor rushed up and hit him. He rolled instinctively, righting himself in order to get off another shot, but his hand came up too slowly. His arm wasn’t doing what his brain was telling it to do.
He saw Tracy’s mouth move. “No-o-o
- Dev!” The sound was a faraway echo.
From behind, someone cried out his name. His vision wavered. His brain wasn’t working right.
Tracy lifted the gun.
“Connor! Down!” He heard his voice through a fog as he grabbed his gun hand with his other hand and did his best to hold it steady.
His vision was blurring. “No!” he shouted again, but the gun slipped from his fingers.
He registered the sight of Tracy staring at the gun in her hand. He blinked and shook his head, trying to clear his vision. When she raised the gun, the barrel was pointed at her own head.
No!
He used the last vestiges of his strength to push himself up off the floor and toward her. Fierce pain wracked him as his body hit hers, and a shot exploded near his ear. He fell hard onto the floor, his ears ringing with the blast.
Connor. Where was Connor?
He rolled off Tracy as the front door burst open and the room filled with cops.
Thank God.
“Connor!” he bellowed, but his lips felt stiff and no sound came out. He couldn’t breathe.
Then everything went black.
…
Reghan dragged herself up onto her hands and knees. She wasn’t entirely sure what had happened. Had Dev knocked her down when he dove in front of her? She lifted her head, which suddenly seemed to be a monumental task.
Tracy was on the floor. Dev was crumpled right beside her.
Dev.
“Oh, God, no. Dev!” He couldn’t be dead. Not Dev. Not the one person who meant more to her than her own life. But he was so still, and there was so much blood spreading across his shoulder and chest.
At that instant Tracy jumped up, her crystal blue eyes wide and wild. She spotted the gun Dev had knocked from her hand and dove for it.
Two uniformed policemen grabbed her.
Oh, thank God. They’d come, after all.
One officer held Tracy while the other handcuffed her, struggling and muttering to herself.
“Somebody help Dev!” Reghan cried. “Please. He’s bleeding.”
She grabbed her side. It hurt—a lot. She did her best to focus. Tracy was being hauled away, still muttering. Reghan looked around for Dev, but couldn’t see him anywhere. She tried to push herself up, but someone held her down.