PIPI ESPERANZA GAVE the SWAT commander the go ahead to enter the mansion at 5:36 a.m. with a three-pronged set of objectives:
Secure the building.
Protect survivors.
Arrest suspects.
As tempted as she was to go in with them, she didn’t. It was better if no one could say she manipulated the process—even if that’s exactly what she knew she was going to have to do eventually.
5:47 A.M. EST
OUTSIDE THE MULVANEY MANSION
AFTER ELEVEN MINUTES of waiting what felt like thirty, the SWAT commander emerged from the mansion and reported the status of the operation to Pipi.
“The location is secure, Deputy Director,” the SWAT commander said.
“How many dead do we have?”
“I don’t have an exact count yet,” the SWAT commander said, “but I’m guessing around thirty or more. Most of them were found in the mansion ballroom. I’ll have a definitive number of casualties soon.”
“What about survivors?” Pipi asked.
“Only two so far,” the SWAT commander said. “Dr. Gerylyn Stoller, who was found sound asleep in a second-floor bedroom. As a side note, she’s blind.”
“You said there were two.”
“The second person might actually be a suspect,” the SWAT commander said. “Big guy. Found him just sitting in a chair in the middle of the ballroom with bodies lying all around.”
“Maybe he’s just in shock,” Pipi said.
“No, he’s aware of what’s going on. He’s not cooperating. Refuses to give his name or answer any questions.”
“Does he have ID?”
“No, we checked. Nothing.”
“Okay, good job,” Pipi said, and the SWAT commander seemed to relax. “Is there anywhere we can set up a command center?”
“It’s a thirty-room mansion, ma’am. Take your pick.”
5:59 A.M. (2:59 PST)
CRIMSON COVE, OREGON
IT WASN’T UNTIL three in the morning, but the waitress finally returned. As Onyx knew she would. Love made people do crazy things, like stand in the middle of the woods in the middle of the night. Or sometimes it was just the person who was crazy. Onyx didn’t know which category Ellen fell into.
Onyx stood near the graves at the edge of the clearing and heard the car engine getting closer and closer. Then the car stopped, and the engine died.
Onyx stepped back into the forest so she would not be seen. Even so, she had on her mask and sleeve. The truth about who and what she was had been revealed to Clay and Tara but would not be extended Ellen.
Onyx heard Ellen’s footsteps and watched as she made her way across the clearing toward the lighthouse.
“Can I help you?” Onyx said.
“Jesus!” Ellen said, jumping back and turning toward the trees. Ellen seemed to stare right at her, but Onyx knew Ellen could not see her.
“Onyx?”
“Why are you here?” Onyx asked.
“I—I’m looking for Noah,” Ellen said. “He left and didn’t say anything. He flew to Charleston, but that’s all I—”
“Your name is Ellen, right?”
“Yes.”
“Listen, Ellen, I know you’ve been out here before—looking for him. Please don’t pretend this is your first visit to the lighthouse.”
“Okay,” Ellen said. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to come out where I can see you.”
“You have to understand something about men,” Onyx said, ignoring the request for her to show herself. “When a man wants you, you’ll know it.”
“Well, I’m sure you don’t know the full story,” Ellen said. “Noah is a very private person, so I doubt he told you about us—about him and me. We’re together. We’re very close.”
“I see,” Onyx said. “The two of you are a couple. Is that what you’re saying?”
“Yes,” Ellen said.
“And you’re so close that Noah went away and didn’t tell you where he was going—or when he’d be back?”
Without warning, Ellen burst into tears and covered her face with her hands. Her shoulders began bouncing up and down with her growing sobs.
Onyx rolled her eyes. What was it with women anyway? With their neediness and inability to accept reality. Then again, Onyx felt immense sympathy for Ellen. For the longest time, she was Ellen. Just as needy. Incomplete as a person unless she had the love and attention of a man. But damn it if she wasn’t tired of women showing up in the clearing outside the lighthouse trying to steal her men.
“I’m sorry,” Ellen said. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I was crazy to come here.”
“Calm down, Ellen. It’s okay,” Onyx said. “And stop crying. Crying doesn’t solve the problem.”
Ellen heaved a giant sigh and wiped her face, which was now streaked with black mascara lines. “You’re right. I really am sorry. I just thought that if I could talk to him—”
“You said he flew to Charleston,” Onyx said.
“Yes, but I thought maybe he lied—that he was avoiding me, and that he was here. You’re not lying to me, are you? He’s not really here, is he?”
“No, Ellen, Noah’s not here. But wherever he is, it’s his business. When a man leaves without telling a woman where he’s going, it means he’s not interested. Do you understand? Noah’s not interested in you.”
Ellen remained silent for several seconds.
“It’s time for you to stop concentrating on Noah, and start concentrating on yourself,” Onyx said. “And let me tell you from experience—you don’t need a man to be whole and happy.”
“Yes, I know you’re right,” Ellen said. “You know what’s crazy, Onyx?”
“What?”
“I actually thought—I don’t know why, but I thought maybe Noah was in love with you.”
It was Onyx’s turn to go silent.
“It’s just, well—he always talks about you so much. The truth is I was jealous. I’m sorry.”
“No, Ellen,” Onyx said. “Noah and I are not a thing.”
“Okay.”
“Go home, Ellen. Make some tea,” Onyx said. “Then get some sleep. Things will look better in the morning. I promise. Things always look better in the morning.”
Ellen remained silent and then finally spoke. “Don’t worry. You won’t see me here again.”
Onyx waited behind the trees until Ellen’s car drove away, and then she stepped out into the clearing near her father’s grave.
A part of Onyx wanted to be angry with Ellen for her audacity to come there as she had, but she couldn’t. Love made people do crazy things.
Then Onyx thought about the things she’d just said:
When a man leaves without telling a woman where he’s going, it means he’s not interested.
It’s time for you to stop concentrating on Noah, and start concentrating on yourself.
You don’t need a man to be whole and happy.
Then she realized she wasn’t giving advice to Ellen at all.
She was giving advice to herself.
6:06 A.M. EST
BRUCE MULVANEY’S STUDY
THERE WERE FOUR people in Bruce Mulvaney’s study waiting for the panic room to open: FBI Special Agent Robert James, Special Agent Gregory Bond, Robyn, and Tommy—who was still handcuffed and seated in a chair. As much as Robyn wanted to talk to Tommy, she knew she’d have to wait until they were alone.
Exactly when the automatic time lock on the panic room door would open was anybody’s guess. But if Olympia Fudge was right, it could happen at any time.
At 6:06 a.m., it did.
The governor of Georgia was the first person through the door, followed immediately by Quinn Cole, who was looking at his cell phone. “The cell tower is up,” Quinn said. “Make the call, Governor.”
The governor looked at his watch. “It’s too late.”
“You don’t know that,” Quinn said. “Make the damn call!”
The governor shook his head,
but he took the phone and walked to the corner of the room.
The next people out of the room were Noah, Alec, Simon, and Bunny, followed by Krissy, who pushed past them and made a beeline for the door. Agent Bond intercepted her before she could get there. “I want to see my mother,” Krissy said with tears running down her cheeks.
“No one leaves this room until the deputy director says you can,” Agent Bond said. “Now please take a seat.”
Stormy Boyd exited the panic room next, followed by Bruce and Koda. Koda saw Robyn and raced across the room to where she was standing. “Thank God, you’re here!” Koda said, wrapping his arms around her. “I looked all over, but—”
“I was with Tommy in the ambulance taking your grandfather to the hospital,” Robyn said.
“How is he?” Koda asked.
Robyn opened her mouth but found it impossible to say anything. Instead, she simply shook her head.
Koda looked across the room at his father.
Bruce didn’t even need to ask.
The look on Koda’s face said it all.
6:07 A.M. EST
DEATH ROW, JACKSON, GEORGIA
THE WARDEN STOOD next to the gurney in the execution room and watched as two EMTs hovered over Wyatt Scrogger, who was lying motionless on the floor.
Per the state’s standard execution protocol, two guards went to remove Wyatt from his cell fifteen minutes prior to his scheduled time of execution. But immediately upon entry, they knew something was wrong. He was behaving oddly—he seemed giddy, euphoric, almost as if he were drunk.
By the time the guards walked Wyatt down the hallway to the execution room, his speech was slurred and his eyes began darting from side to side. Seconds later, he began sweating profusely. Then he started vomiting—followed by a complete loss of control over his bodily functions.
Moments later, Wyatt collapsed unconscious on the floor.
The EMTs were called and confirmed what seemed obvious at that point.
He wasn’t faking it.
Wyatt’s body temperature had dropped from 98.6 to 95.4, and his breathing had slowed to less than fifteen breaths per minute, placing him perilously close to cardiac arrest.
The warden looked at his watch. They were already eleven minutes behind the scheduled time of execution. And, by state law, they were not allowed to execute an unconscious or otherwise impaired inmate. What a cluster, the warden thought.
Then the phone rang.
It was the governor.
6:08 A.M. EST
BRUCE MULVANEY’S STUDY
YOU’RE NOT GOING to believe it,” the governor said. “The execution was delayed. It seems that Wyatt Scrogger became violently ill, and he’s still alive.”
Quinn stepped over to an empty chair next to where Tommy Bilazzo was handcuffed and lowered himself into it.
“Quinn, what’s wrong?” Koda asked. “You should be happy. You did it, man. You saved Wyatt.”
“Yeah, I know,” Quinn said. “It’s Juniper. She’s gone.”
“No, you’re wrong,” Tommy said.
“What do you mean?”
“You see any lights on in here?” Tommy asked.
Everyone glanced around and realized Tommy was right. There wasn’t a single light on in the room—yet the room was bathed in light.
“I walked around the house after the thing with Fanning, and you know what? Every light bulb in this whole place exploded when your sis took him down. Your sister took down the darkest evil I’ve ever seen, and she did it with the goodness that was in her. With her light.”
“I don’t understand,” Quinn said.
“Don’t you get it?” Tommy said. “There’s no electricity in the house, and sunrise ain’t for another hour. But look around. The place is glowing with light.”
“He’s right, Quinn,” Koda said. “Juniper isn’t gone. She’s everywhere. She’s everywhere.”
6:09 A.M. EST
IN THE MANSION LIBRARY
THE SWAT COMMANDER walked into the library at a brisk pace and stopped when he saw Pipi was talking on her cell phone.
“Hang on,” Pipi said and lowered the phone. “What is it?”
“Two pieces of good news,” the SWAT commander said. “The first is that we’ve got cell reception again, which I see you already know. The second is the panic room door opened.”
“How many were in there?” Pipi asked.
“Ten.”
“What about Bruce and Koda Mulvaney?” Pipi asked.
“Yes, they were both in there,” the SWAT commander said. “We’re holding all of them in the study for now.”
“What about the deceased?”
“We’ve taken the bodies out on the back deck as you instructed.”
“Final count?”
“Thirty-nine, ma’am.”
Pipi shook her head. “Okay. Bring the suspect here to the library, okay? I want to talk to him before we do anything else.”
6:13 A.M. EST
The SWAT commander brought Tommy into the mansion library and sat him in a chair opposite Pipi. “You want me to stay?” the SWAT commander asked.
Pipi shook her head. “No. I’ll be okay.”
The SWAT commander nodded and left the room.
“Are these cuffs really necessary?” Tommy asked.
“I don’t know,” Pipi said. “The only reason you’re wearing them is because you refused to identify yourself. Innocent people tend not to hide things.”
Tommy did not respond.
A few seconds later, Pipi realized how quiet it was in the room. Deadly quiet, in fact—with not so much as a heartbeat between them.
“Oh.”
“Yeah, I was wondering how long it would take you,” Tommy said as Pipi walked behind him and removed the handcuffs.
“So what’s your name?” Pipi asked.
“Tommy. Tommy Bilazzo. I’m an old friend of the family.”
“I take it you were here in the house tonight when the attack took place.”
“Yeah, I was here. For the beginning and for the end at least,” Tommy said. “We both know what happened in the middle.”
Pipi nodded. “Why didn’t you leave? You certainly could have. There are plenty of mirrors in a mansion this big.”
“I stayed because I thought maybe I could help,” Tommy said.
“Help? Help how?”
“You got a big problem on your hands here,” Tommy said. “This many dead people are going to be hard to explain—especially this many dead rich people. There’s going to be a lot of scrutiny.”
“Yes, I’m quite aware.”
“I’m sayin’ the truth isn’t gonna be good for any of us,” Tommy said. “Not you. Not me. And not the family.”
“Is that your concern?” Pipi asked. “The family?”
Tommy nodded. “Yeah. Things are gonna be hard enough on Bruce and Koda as it is, losing Declan the way they did. Now you got the media gathering out front. You’re gonna have to tell them something.”
Pipi nodded. “I’m open to suggestions.”
“I’m thinkin’ a gas leak could work,” Tommy said.
“Hang on. I’ve got two other people I want in on this.”
“A gas leak?” Maggie said after she and Newt had been brought into the library and updated on the plan.”
Tommy shrugged. “Thirty is a lot of dead people to explain, dying all at once no less. It’s either a gas leak or someone spiked the punch with cyanide. Cyanide is a juicy story, and something the media will keep chasing. But a run-of-the-mill gas leak…”
“All those problems go away,” Newt said.
Tommy shrugged. “Hey, accidents happen.”
“He’s right,” Newt said. “If we don’t provide a plausible explanation, the media will never let go of it. Like with OJ Simpson and JonBenét Ramsey, they’ll be doing cable specials about what really happened here tonight for twenty years.”
Pipi nodded. “The key thing now is containment,” Pipi said. “Is
there anyone else outside of this building who knows what really went down?”
Newt and Maggie took a minute to think. “Yes,” Maggie said. “Olympia Fudge. She was taken to the hospital to have her gunshot wound treated, along with Graeme Kingsley.”
“And the caterer, Beatrice Shaw. She’s out in the van with the news people from Channel 6 in Savannah,” Newt said.
“We need to get them all in here before we go out with our version of what happened,” Tommy said.
“The media people too?” Pipi asked. “I got the impression they didn’t arrive here until afterward.”
“Beatrice Shaw is a chatterbox,” Maggie said. “I was only with her for five minutes, and I wanted to blow my brains out. I’m sure she’s given the song and verse about every harrowing detail of what happened. Letting them stay in the news van together was a mistake.”
“That’s okay,” Tommy said. “You’re gonna need someone from the media with you from the inside anyway,” Tommy said. “Offer this guy, what’s his name?”
“Domingo Gutierrez,” Newt said.
“Offer this Gutierrez guy an exclusive, but only if he goes along with the gas leak angle,” Tommy said. “And one more thing.”
“Now what?” Pipi asked.
“About Declan. You gotta nip the idea that he got stabbed in the bud.”
“Okay. Why?” Pipi asked.
“Coincidences don’t sell well,” Tommy said. “People don’t like coincidences, especially reporter-types. If you don’t kill the stabbing angle, you’ll have two stories goin’—the first being that a billionaire got stabbed to death at his own party—”
“—and a second story about thirty people dying from mysterious gas leak,” Newt said, nodding his head.
“Yeah, it’s too big of a coincidence, both of those things happening in the same place and the same time,” Tommy said.
“You’re suggesting everyone died from the gas leak,” Maggie said. “Including Declan?”
Tommy nodded.
“But fifty people saw him get stabbed,” Pipi said.
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