Kayla watched the body spin and burn…waited until it dropped to the ground before she dragged Abby out of the house.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Teige and Jacoby had watched the whole thing. Letting Kayla remain in there alone with Mara and an incapacitated Abby was risky as fuck, especially once Jacoby noted that Mara had started a fire some time ago. But they ducked in the mudroom, forced to listen, bear witness to the incredibly painful scene.
Teige wanted Kayla to remember—stopping it all too soon could put her into more shock, more doubt. She needed to know about her past, to know she’d done nothing wrong.
Mara was always the bad seed—she’d just used Kayla as her excuse. Teige would spend as long as it took convincing Kayla of that.
They’d helped take the women out—the ambulance and fire trucks pulling up as they did.
“Body inside the dining room,” Jacoby told the firefighters. “She’s the arsonist.” Then he was helping Teige cut the bindings from Abby’s arms as the paramedics gave all of them oxygen. Jacoby insisted Abby go to the hospital for treatment.
Kayla had grabbed Teige on the way to the hospital, and as the truck followed Abby’s ambulance, she relived her memories. Teige had been surprised to hear Kayla remembering the order of the killings—Mara doing the killing first, in cold blood, changed everything, and Mara couldn’t hold on to the reality she had for so long. Mara had wanted Kayla to remember, to be grateful to her, but in getting her wish, Kayla had broken her.
Kayla not remembering Mara’s so-called protection was a blow, but Kayla’s knowing that Mara killed first and set her up was the final straw.
Would Mara have killed if she hadn’t been abused? Impossible to say, but even with the first murders, she could’ve stopped there. But either that event triggered the illness or she’d liked the killing. Or serial killing was in her blood.
“If I’d remembered sooner…”
“Nothing would’ve changed, Kayla,” Teige told her fiercely.
“Yes, it would’ve,” she shot back just as fiercely. “That bitch would’ve killed herself sooner and saved innocent lives.”
Teige stared at her, then nodded. “You saved my sister.”
“She saved me first. Both of you. All of you.” And then she collapsed in his arms. “It’s over, Teige. And somehow it won’t be done for a really long time. I don’t know what to do with myself.”
“Be grateful you survived. Give back. It’s all you can do.”
*
Abby was seen by the doctors immediately in the ER—Teige followed behind her, leaving Kayla in Jacoby’s capable hands in order to get another breathing treatment for mild smoke inhalation.
Abby’s was worse, exaggerated because of her injuries. There was always the chance of infection, never mind the fact that some of the wounds might be deeper than they looked.
“Sir—”
“I’m her brother,” Teige told the doctor.
Abby reached out for his hand. “I’m all right, Teige.”
“No, you’re not, Abs.” His voice broke. “Christ, again…”
“Don’t do this because of what happened that night.”
Teige knew his eyes were as haunted as hers. “If I was any later…fuck…if I’d been ten minutes earlier…”
“Stop,” Abby said firmly. “You saved me. It wasn’t your job to save Dad. He put us in so much danger. He knew it and he didn’t care.”
“He cared, Abs. He just didn’t know how to stop hunting or profiling like that. It’s as much of an addiction as the killer has, you know? If you don’t have that kind of addictive personality, you won’t be an effective profiler.”
“Takes one to know one,” she offered softly. “There’s a monster in all of us. We just let it out in different ways.”
“So you don’t think we were cursed?”
“Of course we are. No getting out of it. But I think I might actually be as lucky as you are.” He laughed when she said it and she tried to laugh and said, “Damn, that hurts,” her voice quiet.
“Hurts to live, Abs.”
Abby gave him a smile, her countenance calm. “I won’t let that stop me. Now get the hell out of here and check on my witness while the docs put me back together.”
*
Kayla was just hanging up the phone with Abby when Teige got home. He’d insisted on going back to the hospital to see his sister, and Kayla cuddled with Hanny and the breathing treatments she’d been sent home with.
It was the first time in forever that she’d been alone—although being with Hanny, who didn’t leave her side, didn’t exactly constitute alone—without worrying if the lights were all on, if the doors were locked, if she was safe.
No one was ever truly safe, but her biggest nightmare had ended. She might still have bad dreams and other issues because of all she’d dealt with, but she was going to be okay.
Especially if she was greeted by Teige’s not often seen smile. “Hey babe—things okay?” he asked as he dropped a shopping bag by the couch.
“Abby called to let me know you were on your way. She said she’s doing fine.” She dug her hands into Hanny’s fur and rubbed. “I heard she kicked you out.”
He gave a small, unabashed shrug. “She kicked Jacoby out too.”
“I think we all need some downtime—and sleep,” she said. The four of them had spent the afternoon talking to various members of law enforcement, including members of the FBI who’d known Teige and Abby’s dad, agents who’d been working on and studying Mara’s case from the start. This case would always remain famous—or infamous—probably more for the way it ultimately ended than anything else.
Teige settled in next to her and Hanny. “Anything you want to talk about before I take you upstairs?”
“Like my memory coming back?” The doctors had told her that it could happen under times of extreme duress, but she’d had so many of those moments without so much as a flash that she’d given up hope. And honestly, having her memory back was a mixed blessing, because it forced her to deal with everything she never had. Abby had told her tonight that they’d “discuss our pasts over wine until it’s all out of our systems” and Kayla planned on taking her up on it.
“Like that, yeah.” He reached out to rub the back of her neck.
“There were times she’d come into my room. I rarely slept at night, even then. I knew something was wrong and she did too—she’d come in when I had nightmares and even then, most of the time I’d ignore her. Brush her off. Ignore how hurt she looked. And I realize that, no matter what signs were there, there’s nothing I could’ve done. It was all on her. She would’ve kept going after the people who got close to me until she got what she wanted.”
“And you know what that was now?” he asked.
“Yes. She wanted me to be the one who stopped her. She wanted me to feel the guilt.”
“Do you?”
She shook her head and reached for his hand. “I feel free. I am free. I have no regrets.”
“Good girl,” he murmured, leaned in to brush a kiss on her mouth, except Hanny had other ideas. The dog stood between them and stared. “Hanny, don’t cockblock.”
Kayla giggled—giggled—and figured she was past the point of exhaustion. Bad things had happened—there were people to mourn, like Penny, whose memorial service was in a few days—but she’d survive. She’d continue to. “Did you talk to more FBI agents at the hospital?”
“Too many to count. I’m sure they’ll have more questions for you too.”
“I have a feeling you won’t be the only one with books written about them.” She paused. “With all of this, I realized that if none of it had happened, I’d never have met you or Abby. I feel like, I might actually have a real family, finally.”
He moved closer and Hanny got off the couch with a grumble and a huff. He pulled Kayla close and murmured, “You do have a real family, baby.”
“Good.” She hugged him back. “Hey, what’s in the bag?”
“Oh, that. Well, the FBI confiscated the camera, so I figured…” He leaned over and pulled a new camera, still in the box, out of the bag.
“Oh, this is beautiful.” She stared at the box, then confessed, “But I don’t think I need this anymore.”
“Why not?”
“I used to take pictures of pretty things I could’ve had so I could at least look at them as much as I wanted. But I don’t need to take pictures of anything or anyone—especially not of you. Because I get to look at you all the time.”
“Day and night,” he growled as he pulled her against him. “Try and stop me.”
“Only when we’re playing,” she told him. “Only because I know that turns you on. God, I love you, Teige. More than I thought possible.”
His smile was easy. “I probably fell in love with you the first night you took my picture. Maybe that’s what pissed me off so badly.”
Epilogue
“You have nightmares,” Mrs. Mueller said, sitting across from Abby at the kitchen table in Old Man Kennen’s house.
Abby’s nightmare had been such a fixture in her life, since the night her father was killed at the hands of the Black Magic Killer—she knew the nightmare Willa Mueller was talking about by heart, because it was always the same: She feels like she can’t scream, but she must be screaming inside her head, but her throat’s too tight for sound. Her body’s heavy, her limbs weighed down like she’s been drugged.
Later, she’ll discover it had merely been fear rendering her unable to move or yell. They’ll find claw marks in the oak floor, where she’d been digging in with her fingernails, attempting to drag her frozen body across the floor—and toward the scene, not away from it.
Anyone who knows her won’t be surprised.
But Abby won’t tell Mrs. Mueller all of that, so she simply says, “Yes.”
But Mrs. Mueller frowns, holds up a finger while she looks down at the cards and corrects her. “You had them. They’ve stopped.
Abby sat back in surprise, because the woman—or the tarot cards—were both correct. And Abby hadn’t even noticed, caught up in healing her injuries, getting stronger and getting the hell out of the hospital. She would’ve expected the nightmares to get worse post-Mara, or maybe they’d morph into Mara nightmares, but her dreams remained strangely, beautifully calm.
“Calm before the storm,” Mrs. Mueller muttered as she flipped another card and stared intently at it.
And that’s when Jacoby walked through the door without knocking.
“Fitting,” Abby murmured.
Mrs. Mueller caught her eye and smiled, then collected her cards. “We’ll do more tomorrow. You’ve got company.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Mueller. This is Jacoby—he’s my…” Abby didn’t know how to finish that, but Jacoby shook Mrs. Mueller’s hand and simply said, “We work together.”
“Wonderful. Take care.” She winked at Abby as she left and Jacoby just sighed.
“Matchmaker?” he asked.
“Actually, I think she wants to read your tarot cards.”
“Yeah, that’s what I need—people spying on me. Bad enough you’re living with a ghost.”
Abby shrugged. “He’s friendlier than a lot of the people I come across at work.” She’d rented Old Man Kennen’s house once Kayla moved next door with Teige, which happened in a hot minute. It was, it seemed, the perfect solution.
It was a week since she’d gotten out of the hospital and moved her meager belongings there. Although Jacoby had texted her daily to check in on how she was doing, they hadn’t really talked at all.
Now, he sat leaned against the kitchen counter. “Hear you’re going back to work on Monday.”
“I can’t sit around here forever. I’m already tired of shopping.” She’d lost most of her things in the fire, which was somehow all right. Purifying. She’d been living a transient life with transient things and she’d had nothing in that house she couldn’t lose, beyond her life and Kayla’s.
Now, she had two couches, a TV and a bed. She was living with two mugs and paper plates. Tomorrow, the clothes she’d ordered would come and she’d wash them and be ready for new cases. Her ribs hurt, her body ached and sleep was still elusive, but the nightmares were gone.
There was something to be said for closure. “Aren’t you excited for me to be back?”
He ignored that. “I hear you’re thinking about the Academy.”
She stared at him. “Either you’re psychic or you’re just fishing.”
He shrugged. “Either way, I’m right.”
He was, damn him. “I’m weighing my options. Maybe trying to avoid it all this time was the foolish thing to do.”
“Right.”
“You think I’m making a mistake, but I can’t live for what anyone else thinks.”
“So Teige doesn’t agree either.”
“No, he doesn’t. And that’s okay,” she said stubbornly.
But Jacoby was just as much so. “Don’t you get it, Abs? Once you start down this road, it’s all over for you. Your life is gone. Don’t have kids. Don’t get close to anyone. You become as much of a victim of the man or woman you’re hunting, maybe more so than any of their other victims. You’re the ultimate prize—the trophy. In a way, you’re the reason they won’t stop—they want to simultaneously horrify and impress you. You’re their reason for living—they become obsessed with you too, and what you bring them, whether it’s power, notoriety…they think of you as a friend.” Jacoby paused. “Serial killers are addicts. So are the agents who hunt them. And you should know that better than anyone.”
She stared at him. “I do.”
“Then fucking stop it. Right now. Refuse to take on any more cases like this, or I swear to fuck, you’ll drown.”
“I made Teige…”
“You made Teige do what? Profile? Fall in love? Save a life? He’s a big boy. Made his own decision.” He paused. “Mara’s gone. The obsession dies with her.”
He couldn’t help but think, Unless there ends up being a copycat. Because there always was.
“People know now…the press knows who I am.”
It was true—the story spread like wildfire, and granted, it would die down soon enough and leave Abby most of her privacy. Most, not all…and she’d be open to any serial killer looking to make a mark. Several true crime writers had left messages for her at the office, and even though Jacoby had told them all to fuck off, he was pretty sure none of them actually would. “You should quit.”
“And do what?” she demanded. “Sit on my ass and write a book?”
“Not a bad idea. Do it under a pseudonym or the crazies will find you.” The expression that passed over her face was almost physically painful to him. “I’m sorry, Abby. I know I’m being an asshole about this—”
“Most definitely.”
“But I have to remind you about what you’re doing. Where you stand…and how much worse things could possibly get.”
“For who, Jacoby? You or me?” she challenged.
“Both of us,” he admitted. “But I knew I was done for ten years ago.”
“So you’re leaving, just like that.”
“I belong in your past—trust me—it works best like that,” he muttered.
“For you or for me?” she challenged.
“Christ, you didn’t even want a partner when I arrived,” he reminded her.
“Maybe now I do.” She took his hand, knowing full well he was never staying. It didn’t matter—he would always be in her life, in one way or another. “You saved me.”
“You saved yourself—again.”
“Kayla helped.”
“I guess we’ll give her some credit.”
“So where will you go now?” she asked.
He shrugged. “I’ll see what cases come up.”
“What happened to you? Really. I mean, come on, you’ve seen me at my worst.”
“So it’s only fair? Bullshit.” But he smiled. “It’s the boring
, clichéd story, Abs. Vic falls for agent. It’s inevitable, really. You’re spending so much time together. Bonding over anger and fear and pain. They save you and get a hero complex.”
“For the record, I don’t have a hero complex over you,” Abby said dryly.
“Noted.”
“Where is she now?”
Jacoby fixed his gaze on her. “Last I heard, he was back at work at the bureau, slowly killing himself.”
She frowned, mainly because if the man Jacoby fell for was back at the FBI, that meant Jacoby had been the vic… “There’s a lot about you I don’t know.”
“I’m sure that eventually you won’t give a shit.”
“I doubt that.”
“Think Teige’ll be okay?” he asked finally. “I know he’s been through hell in his job…and shit like this, almost losing you and Kayla can take a toll after the fact.”
He must know from experience. “He’s working through it. They both are. Some days are better than others. I guess that’s the best all of us can hope for.”
“Christ, I hope not,” Jacoby muttered. “Hope for more, Abs. You deserve it. All of it.”
“So do you.”
“Say it enough and maybe one day I’ll believe you.”
*
Kayla had moved in with Teige. Of course, Willa Mueller’s cards had told her that a while ago, but she always kept things like that to herself. Most people didn’t want to know their future.
Teige’s sister had taken over renting Old Man Kennen’s house. Abby was a pretty woman, pulled between several men, according to Willa’s tarot cards. Abby was a sweet girl. But that boy riding the motorcycle…he wasn’t for her. No, they both had people out there for them, she mused as she laid the cards out on the table.
Of course, they were also both haunted. And Willa Mueller knew haunted.
Coming Soon from Stephanie Tyler
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