Finally, my feet hit the ground and my eyes detected light. I raised my weapon and took careful, balanced steps through the darkness toward a barely lit tunnel. As I moved, all I could hear was the slight squeak of my own footsteps, a rhythmic drip-drop of water, and the buzz of electricity.
I moved through the cold, dank air, listening for any signs of movement above or below. I prepared myself for attack from any side, analyzing every space I encountered for potential threats and sabotage. A calm focus took over as I moved swiftly through the snaking underground chambers. Maybe my dad had taken these exact steps.
His strength and courage filled me as I stole through the darkness.
One foot in front of the other, Rue, don’t hesitate. Trust your instincts.
I clenched my jaw and moved forward. A faint sound came from above. I found a spiral staircase at the farthest west end of the bottom floor and began scaling it. Arms up, shoulder cocked, weapon high and tight.
I peered up to the first floor just to make sure no one was there. Then I continued up, my heart beating faster with every step. The air temperature warmed and the dank smell dissipated the higher I climbed.
Breathe, concentrate, keep your focus on the target.
My arms were tired, and my legs burned from the stairs. I took a moment to compose myself and slow my heart rate before I made the final steps to the point where I could see the room above.
There was a stifled cry. I peered up through the railings to locate the noise, my head shielded by metal rails.
My mom was sitting in a chair at the center of the round room. Her hands were bound behind her, and there was gray tape across her mouth. Two men stood in front of her with their backs to me, speaking in whispers. I recognized the small man as Filthy number five—Stanley Violet. Which meant the other one had to be Silver.
The dimly lit room appeared to be some kind of emergency antechamber with a cylindrical ceiling at least a hundred feet high. All the way up the walls I saw scaffolding and rungs of balconies for the different floors. Each floor was lit by small red lights. But on the main floor before me, there was vast empty space. No rigs, no machinery, no cover—except for the ring of shadows from the second floor scaffolding around the perimeter.
I bobbed my head back down and texted Sergeant Mathews:
She’s in the westernmost area of the white building, center of the island. At least 2 levels down. I’m about to move in. Wait for my call.
I put away the phone, eager to finally see the man who had destroyed everything and everyone I ever loved.
The urge for revenge boiled inside of me. Dark, rolling, and spilling over with hatred.
I was so close to saving my mom, getting justice for my dad, and perhaps even proving Liam’s innocence. It didn’t matter that Sammy wasn’t here yet.
If I shot Silver now, I could explain it all. Mathews would back me up, and when Sammy got here, his crime scene photos would, too.
How lucky was I to have found him just standing with his back to me, whispering tactics with Filthy Five number five and totally unaware of my location?
I slid the gun out onto the floor to steady myself. I only had one chance. I closed my left eye and focused down the barrel of the revolver toward the target. My finger itched to shoot. Just as I began to put pressure on the heavy trigger, he turned toward my mom and I finally saw Silver’s face.
It wasn’t him.
Or it didn’t look like him.
At least not the “him” in the surveillance picture Liam brought me. This guy was clean-shaven and much older than I expected. The picture Liam showed me of the guy at the art fair had that silver-fox beard thing going on. Sure, he could have shaved, but he couldn’t have aged twenty years. Now that I was looking, this guy also had weird posture, like he was seventy years old.
But if this wasn’t Silver, where was he? And who was this?
“Hello, Ruby,” said a voice from below. I almost pulled the trigger in surprise, but it was aimed in the wrong direction. “Put the weapon back in your holster.”
Really? Not hand it over or kick it twenty feet away?
The man was only a few steps below me on the spiral staircase, his face hidden. I recognized his voice from the phone call. Silver.
“You may need it in a few minutes,” he continued in that low, gravelly voice.
Of course, he still wanted me to kill. I thought about pretending to put my gun away and then turning it on him for a quick shot, but I wasn’t ready for my first bullet wound. He’d stop me—not kill me. I knew that by now he wanted me alive in order to kill Violet, but he’d defend himself if I forced him to. I couldn’t be impatient or hotheaded if I wanted to save my mom. I had to let it play out and take the chance when it presented itself.
“Listen, I know you think my mom’s a bad person.” I started to negotiate. “You don’t have to convince me of that fact, but—”
“Shhh,” he hushed me, using his gun to push me up the stairs. “There’s plenty to say, but not just yet.”
CHAPTER 29
I holstered my gun inside my hoodie like he asked and climbed slowly up the metal stairs. Each step I took sounded like the clicking of the tracks on a roller coaster as it climbed its way up to the big drop. The roller coaster came to a pause as I stepped out into clear sight of my mom and the two men. My mom’s eyes widened with horror when she saw me, and she began jerking against the plastic ties binding her to the chair. One of her wrists was wrapped in bloodied white gauze.
The two men moved closer to her, as though they were protecting her from me. Like the way two lions would stand over their nice zebra dinner.
Who was the guy standing next to Violet?
I knew Silver was still behind me with a gun, but nothing prepared me for the moment he placed his hand at the small of my back to guide me toward the group. It was as if the roller coaster finally lurched forward from its pause on the precipice, making my stomach drop as the plunge took my breath away.
When I turned to face him, I found—Detective Martinez.
No, it couldn’t be. Martinez was dead. Shot. Burned. How could he be standing here wearing a tactical helmet and the smuggest smile I’d ever seen?
“But I saw you bleeding.” I talked myself through the memories. “From under your vest—”
“Blood bags, Ruby.”
“But your arm was ripped open where your tattoo used to be.” His arm was covered now, but the way he was using it showed no signs of serious damage.
“I had to make sure they found my blood on you or the boy. Plus, I’d been meaning to get it removed anyway.” He glowered. “The man I got it with no longer has his, either.”
My dad.
“But they found your body in the fire!”
“They found a body, Ruby. Someone in the coroner’s office owed me one.”
“I don’t understand…Liam…why—?”
“You will.” He motioned for me to keep moving toward the two other men and my mom. “We don’t have much time.”
“Time for what?” I asked, obeying his order while fighting for a sense of reality.
“I know you called in a SWAT team,” he said evenly, no longer using the low whisper from the phone call. No wonder I hadn’t recognized his voice. He’d been disguising it.
I turned to see his rage at my disobedience, but the anger wasn’t there. He wasn’t surprised by my decision. He’d known I wouldn’t blindly follow his directions.
“I expected nothing different,” he said, motioning for me to move forward. “But perhaps the good ol’ boys in SWAT will remember to watch out for the more explosive parts of this building.”
Oh no, he’d booby-trapped it. My instincts raged to obliterate this sadistic piece of scum.
I was almost to my mom when he stopped me, and the four of us stood in a misshapen circle around my mom’s chair. She looked so helpless, so afraid.
“I believe some introductions are in order,” he said, moving away from me and standing
halfway between me, my mom, a very nervous-looking Violet, and the mystery man. I kept trying to make eye contact with Violet, but he looked terrified.
“As you all know, my name is Detective Martinez, deceased,” he said with a very un-deceased smirk on his face. “To my right is Mr. Viktor Gulav. On the left, Mr. Stanley Violet, the last man standing on Ruby’s little list. Then last, but certainly not least among us, we have District Attorney Jane Rose.” He stepped closer to her and ripped the tape off. A piercing scream echoed off the cement walls around us. I flinched at the terror and rage in her cry.
“Are you done?” he asked squarely.
“What more do you want from me?” she shrieked. “I’ve already given you all of Jack’s life insurance money. You said if I gave it to you you’d—”
“That I’d leave you alone?” He walked several feet away, stopping under the shadow of an overhang. Without the flickering flame inside the open incinerator grate next to him, I wouldn’t have been able to see his evil grin. “Come on, Jane. You know me better than that by now.”
“Then what do you want?” she yelled.
“Let’s start with the truth.”
My mom’s eyes pivoted to me. She obviously knew what he was talking about.
“What truth?” I asked her. “What truth?” I asked him.
He never took his eyes off her, like he was waiting for her to answer first.
“OK, fine, I’ll start with some truth,” he said, unfolding his arms, gun still in hand. “You both already know Mr. Violet here. But you may not remember Mr. Viktor Gulav. Let me refresh your memory. Mr. G here is a skilled thief, arsonist, and international sex-trade and drug dealer.”
I looked over to the small man, expecting him to be offended at this description. Instead, he couldn’t have puffed out his bony old chest any farther.
“His services have been quite helpful in my little endeavor. His connections and legwork came in handy when it came time to place the various men in position for Ruby to discover. He was released from prison last year. Took a two-year plea deal, copping to three counts of aggravated assault. Does any of this sound familiar, D. A. Rose?”
My mom closed her eyes. Giving out weak plea deals was an everyday occurrence for her.
“Two years,” he repeated. “Does that sound right for someone you know is responsible for thousands of rapes, hundreds of deaths? Yet you put him back on the street like it was nothing. Justifying your failures with sound bites like, ‘Sometimes justice is constrained by the law.’ All while you and King Jack sat on your thrones, accusing me of corruption.”
Silence.
Meanwhile, Mr. Gulav’s mouth was opening and shutting like a carp’s, like he was searching for the right words to get him out of this situation. Like he was only just now realizing he’d been set up by Martinez. He took his black beanie and put it over his heart. He knew something bad was coming.
“Well, let’s just say that I’m no longer constrained by the law—or by my old friend Jack, who relentlessly accused me of working with the likes of Mr. G and had become dangerously close to proving it.” Martinez raised his weapon in the direction of my mom, Violet, and Gulav.
“No, wait!” Gulav shouted with his hands up. “I thought we had a deal! What about the big payout? What about the shipment?”
“Oh, the shipment will arrive per our agreement,” Martinez said, slowly lacing his hands around the gun, enjoying every second of this production. “You just won’t be there to profit from it. Good-bye and good riddance, Mr. Gulav.”
Two deafening shots blasted, and Gulav went flying backward. Then blood. So much blood. It began gushing out near my mother’s feet.
My mom released another guttural scream. I wished she would stop doing that. It wouldn’t get us out of here alive.
Or, then again, maybe it would. I examined the shadows of the large room and the overhangs of the decks above us. Maybe Sammy was here by now; maybe he’d gotten that murder on camera; maybe SWAT’s sharpshooter could take out Martinez from above.
I couldn’t see any signs of infiltration yet. On top of that, Martinez had positioned himself under the scaffolding. Even if sharpshooters were up there, they’d have no shot on Martinez. Not only was he protected, but I could vaguely see a door behind him.
Martinez was holding the smoking gun casually at his side. He showed no remorse, no shame. He was entirely unaffected by the taking of a human life.
In the space of a few seconds, my mind spun away from me. The adrenaline kicked in, and I couldn’t feel my own body. I was floating above this horror story, numb from the panic filling the room.
I still believed I had a chance to stop the madness. Not just for me, but also for the people I loved. For my good and loving father, for my selfish and manipulative mother, for Liam, for his family. But somehow Martinez had outsmarted me at every turn.
I’d let them all down. I could see where this situation was going. He was going to give Violet a choice: Kill my mom—or be killed.
Which really meant he was giving me a choice: Kill Violet or let him kill my mom, in which case I’d be responsible for another death. Ruby Rose, the serial killer.
I really hoped Violet was wearing the vest I’d given him. A sympathy pang for him caught me by surprise. He was a despicable human being, but still very human. And he was afraid.
“Don’t pretend to feel sorry for this waste of flesh, Ruby.” Martinez’s voice kicked me in the gut. “Remember who he is, what he’s done. What he’s capable of doing again.”
I remembered. Violet’s greatest pleasure was other people’s pain.
So why didn’t Martinez just shoot Violet himself if he thought it was right? Why make me do it? Nothing about this made sense to me.
“Now, before it’s Ruby’s turn to pull the trigger, there’s some more truth to be told,” Martinez said, removing a glove from his right hand and an arm guard off his forearm. Without losing focus, he threw both into the fire pit next to him. Was he trying to dispose of any traces of gunshot residue? He wore another glove underneath the first. The extent of this man’s planning blew my mind. “It’s time to come clean, Jane,” he said, turning to my mom.
She raised her head and gave him the scariest look I’d ever seen in my life. Her mascara had run and the demon glare she gave him made me flinch. “Don’t do this,” she said quietly. “For her sake. Don’t.”
“It’s not up to you anymore. Both you and Jack had your chances, and you failed to take them. I warned you it would come to this.” Martinez wasn’t intimidated. His lowered eyes matched her defiant stare. “If you don’t tell her, I will.”
“I’ve been trying to tell her. I was going to, but—”
“What are you talking about?” I yelled. “Mom, what are you not telling me?”
“Ruby, I know I haven’t been the perfect mother,” she said, leaning toward me. “I know I’ve let you down, but don’t let him—”
“Enough!” he roared. “We don’t have time for this.” Martinez showed his first signs of losing composure. If he was expecting my mom to cooperate, he was mistaken.
“Mr. Violet, you know what to do,” he said with eyes narrowed on my mom.
Mr. Violet didn’t look like he knew what to do at all. He stared back at Martinez with a pleading expression.
“Now.”
Violet scurried to a table behind him and came back to my mom’s side with a long knife. “I don’t want to do this,” he whimpered, wiping his snotty nose on his sleeve.
“What, it’s OK to do it to innocent young women, but not to the guilty?” Martinez asked. “You know your choices, Violet.” Martinez raised his weapon and aimed it right at the shaking predator.
I couldn’t stand it.
I started to move toward my mom, but Martinez stopped me with a bullet sparking on the floor six inches from my foot. “Ruby, be patient. You need to hear this.”
“Really?” I screamed, finally pulling out my gun. “You want me to be patient
while you let this freak with no soul murder my mom right in front of me?”
“She’s not your mom,” he responded. “She’s a thief, a liar, and a murderer.”
“No, Ruby, don’t believe him,” my mother called out.
“Mr. Violet!” Martinez called out louder.
Violet placed the knife against my mom’s neck without conviction. A sliver of blood formed and ran down her skin. She screamed again.
“Stop!” I cried over all the madness, shooting ten feet to the left of Violet to scare him away. He cowered aside. “Do not hurt her.”
I spoke directly to her. “Mom, just tell me what he’s talking about.”
“I’m your mother, Ruby, I’ll always be your mother. I love you.” She sobbed through the pain. Though her bloody neck wound was unnerving, it wasn’t fatal. Not yet. “I was never any good at showing it. But I swear, Ruby, you’re everything to me. I couldn’t bear to burden you—”
“Lies, Jane,” Martinez interrupted. “Even faced with your own death you continue to lie.”
“I tried to tell her, but I couldn’t. I never wanted to hurt her—”
“No, you lie for your own sake,” he argued. “You lie to protect yourself. Through Jack’s death, your daughter’s misery, you deny the truth. The truth that you caused the death of Ruby’s real mother.”
My breath caught.
“No, that’s not true!” Mom reared her head.
“The truth that you stole Ruby and pretended she was your own,” he continued.
“It was all legal,” she said through labored breaths.
Everything was going fuzzy around the edges. I could see the bloody court papers in my mind.
“The truth that you never even wanted her, but you thought you could save your failed marriage and repent for the sin of our affair if you adopted the perfect baby girl.”
“That’s a lie!” she seethed.
“The truth that when the baby’s biological father learned he had a daughter and demanded to know his child, you denied him at every turn.”
I was the baby from the petition.
Killing Ruby Rose (The Ruby Rose Series) Page 25