Beautiful Maids All in a Row (25 page)

I pushed my communications button. “Luke, what's up?”

Everyone, including Shepherd, turned toward me. I guess they all heard me.

“The police arrived on the scene,” he said. “Mooney's car was parked in the driveway. They've set up a perimeter around the cabin.”

“Are they there?” Shepherd asked urgently.

“Confirmation on Mooney, but none on Ms. Hall,” Luke answered. “They've established contact with Mooney, but he won't let Diana speak.”

“Have Hostage Rescue been deployed?” I asked.

“They're mobilizing now, but the ETA's half an hour after we arrive.”

“Has he hurt her?” Shepherd asked.

“We don't know. He says he'll only talk to Dr. Shepherd.”

Shepherd turned back to his window. I thought I saw a tear fall down his cheek. He quickly wiped it away. “Jesus, laying it on a little thick, don't you think?” I muttered. Thankfully nobody could hear me.

“This is all my fault,” Shepherd said. “If I had just told you the truth…”

“She's going to be fine,” Clarkson assured him. “We handle these things all the time.”

Shepherd turned toward Clarkson, cheeks glistening in the setting sun, and nodded. “Thank you.”

I turned back to my window, trying to hide my disgust. He played the victim very well. All those years with Mom made him an expert. I shook my head. I felt like I had a rock in my stomach weighing me down. Been a while since I felt it. Not that I missed it. Dread. Pure dread. This was not going to end well; I felt it. I
knew
it.

Someone was going to die tonight.

The Samsonville PD certainly had their act together. In thirty minutes they managed to secure a half-mile radius around the two-story log cabin, not an easy feat. A dozen local officers were placed at strategic points all around the cabin and in the surrounding woods, giving them the perfect vantage point of every angle of the cabin. Some sat in trees with sniper rifles pointed at the black windows, others sat low to the ground with automatic weapons. Gotta love rural police forces; they could supply a small country with guns.

Police cruisers blocked the driveway and road, giving Mooney no means of escape by car. A command post equipped with rifles, tear gas, bullhorns, and stun guns sat fifty yards from the front door. Lieutenant Stuart Blanchard, the man in charge of this siege, was short with eyes that bugged out of their sockets. When he barked orders at his men, he reminded me of a psychotic drill sergeant ordering them to jump off a cliff. It was effective, though.

After our grand entrance—it was impossible to be subtle in a helicopter—we approached the small, red-faced man. Everyone but Shepherd and me flashed badges at him. Blanchard was not impressed.

“We have it under control,” Blanchard snapped. “I'm tired of you Febes bossing us around, giving us your scut work. It's the second time today. We'll have no problem talking this wacko down.”

“We know him,” Luke said. “The man is a suspect in one of our cases.”

“You're probably the reason he's pulled a Patty Hearst,” Blanchard said. “Lord knows what'll happen if you take over. I watched the Waco thing; I know your policies. I'll be damned if I let something like that happen in my jurisdiction. So why don't you all get back into your fancy cars and let the real police work?”

That was it. “Listen very closely to me, you pathetic little shithead!” I shouted, pushing past Luke to get in Blanchard's face. “There's a woman in there held at gunpoint. She's probably hurt and scared out of her mind, and you're standing there trying to prove you're the big dick around here? Get the fuck over yourself and let us get her out of there!”

I turned from a stunned Blanchard and grabbed the nearest bullhorn, smacking it against Shepherd's chest. I took a step toward him and leaned into his ear. “I know you're responsible for this,” I whispered through gritted teeth. “I know Mooney's going to come out of that house and say he killed all those women. I do. But right now, I really don't give a shit. I just want Diana out of there. Safe. That woman in there loves you, despite the fact that you're a
fucking psycho.
And I swear to you on my husband's grave, if she doesn't come out of that house alive, you will not live to see your next birthday. I have no qualms about shooting you dead, and you know it. So do whatever you have to do to get her out of there. Do you understand me?”

He pulled his head away to meet my eyes and a fleeting smile crossed his face. He leaned into my ear and whispered, “It'll be such bliss watching you break. I'm hard from the mere thought.” He stepped away and turned to Luke as if nothing had happened. “How effective is Kevlar?”

Before arriving on the scene, we were all given flak jackets, Shepherd included. You never knew when or where the bullets would fly in a situation like this.

“Very,” Luke answered. “I'd bet my life on it anytime.”

Shepherd nodded. “Okay.” With bullhorn in hand, he took a deep breath before walking toward the edge of the perimeter.

Luke stepped beside me. “What did you say to him?” he asked.

“Nothing.” I moved away from Luke and over to the table filled with assault rifles. It gave me the perfect view of Shepherd, who stood at the edge of the perimeter, holding the bullhorn up to his mouth. The rock in my stomach doubled in weight when Shepherd opened his mouth.

“Henry, it's Jeremy,” he said into the bullhorn. “I'm here like you asked.”

I stared at the dark cabin illuminated from every direction by spotlights. All the lights inside were off, and all but one of the windows were covered with curtains. A dark figure passed behind them. “Jeremy?” Mooney shouted from inside the house.

The officers holding their guns turned their aim toward the open window with the white lace curtains billowing out. At least a dozen rifles and guns cocked around me. Blanchard probably told them to shoot on sight.

“I'm here,” Shepherd answered. “Henry, is Diana all right? May I speak with her?”

Mooney began to sob faintly in the distance. “I'm so sorry,” he cried like a hurt child. “I didn't mean to hurt them.”

“Hurt who? Is Diana hurt?” Shepherd asked.

I scoffed at his false concern. They probably had this whole exchange scripted. I would have bet money Mooney had a piece of paper with each response in front of him.

“I didn't want to kill them,” Mooney sobbed, “but they would have told.
She
did! Oh, Jeremy, they were so beautiful. I couldn't help myself.” He began to wail, “Lord, forgive me.”

I looked over at Luke to get his reaction. He just stared blankly at Shepherd with his jaw set. I turned back to Shepherd.

“I know you didn't mean it,” Shepherd said. “I'll get you the best lawyer in Manhattan, I swear this to you. Just let Diana go.”

Silence filled the woods for an unbearable minute. The only sound was the static of the police scanner behind me. Everyone was holding his or her breath in anticipation. I knew I was.

“Henry?” Shepherd asked. “Please. Let her go.”

“I'm sorry, Jeremy,” Mooney finally wailed. “I never wanted you dragged into this. You were always good to me. I'm sorry I let you down. I just want you to know that. Goodbye.”

The boom of a single gunshot echoed through the woods in waves, causing the birds perched in the trees above to go flapping into the sky. Everyone around the house—myself included—crouched instinctively to the ground. For a second everyone stayed low, waiting for a second shot that didn't come. After that second, we all got our wits about us and rose. The dozen officers stationed around the house began barreling toward it, rifles and shotguns pointed at the window. The curtains continued to billow in the breeze, but now little red stains marred the white lace. “Dear God,” I muttered.

I stood there, unable to move as the officers kicked down the wood door, sending it crashing inward. Five officers in full tactical gear disappeared into the house, checking corners with their guns as they moved. A few seconds later, one came out and stood in the demolished doorway. “All clear!” he shouted. Two paramedics pushed past me with Luke, Clarkson, and Liu following them close toward the house. I decided to bring up the rear. I really, really,
really
didn't want to go into that house.

But I had to.

As we ran to the house, we passed Shepherd sitting on the ground, staring into space, and rocking back and forth. One of the paramedics knelt down and pulled out a blood pressure cuff. Shepherd didn't seem to notice. Catatonia, a symptom of shock. He was doing a fair impression of it, though it wasn't exactly hard to fake. I looked away from him in disgust.

The cabin was a zoo. We pushed our way into the living room, where all the activity was. Officers and paramedics went about their jobs, checking around the bodies and already bagging evidence.

I learned in college that the best way to trigger memories was through smell. A whiff of baking cookies could instantly take some people back into their grandmother's kitchen. The smell inside the cabin brought another memory back to me as the acrid odor of burnt flesh, cordite, and human waste assailed my nostrils. This was what my house smelled like after Hayden was shot. My brain recognized it and shot me a snapshot of Hayden lying on his back with a large, bloody hole where his right ear used to be with a thin stream of smoke billowing out of it. I swallowed down the bile.
Keep it together, Iris.

A paramedic knelt beside Henry Mooney's body, checking his neck for a pulse. He wouldn't find one. The left side of Mooney's head was nothing but a pulpy mixture of red blood and brain matter. To his left was the remainder of his brain, which resembled raw hamburger meat flung against the brown wood wall. His dark brown eyes stared blankly up at the ceiling as he lay on his back, a gun gripped tightly in his right hand. Blood trickled down the wall and pooled on the floor. This was way too fucking familiar.

Across the room, a second paramedic knelt beside Diana. Luke stood on the other side of the body, staring at her face. I stopped beside him and gazed down. Diana Hall was as beautiful in death as she was in life. The only difference between then and now was the small red-and-purple hole in her forehead, with a thin stream of blood dripping to the side. The blond hair beneath her head was now red, saturated with blood. Her head was tilted to the left, and her mouth was open an inch. Her vacant black eyes gazed at the red floor. She lay on her back, palms up. A loud gasp escaped my mouth when the realization hit me.

Oh, fuck me. Oh, God. He…

I turned from Diana's body and bulldozed my way through the countless officers bringing equipment in. Without thinking, I sprinted toward the now standing Shepherd so fast it was like I'd grown wings. Shepherd was about to open his mouth when I reached him.

“You motherfucking son of a bitch!”

Before I realized it, my right fist made contact with his jaw, his limp body falling to the ground as he held his jaw as if he were afraid it would fall off. The paramedic just stood there, stunned. I may have been thin, but I was strong, 105 pounds of pure hatred. But my fire-hot rage was not assuaged by one punch. I took a step toward him, raising my right leg back at the knee, getting ready to kick the crap out of him. He held up his arms, pleading softly for me to stop.
No way in hell.
Just as I was about to bring my foot forward, I felt a vice tighten around my waist, pulling me away.

“Iris, stop it!” Luke ordered, tightening his grip on me.

“Let me go!” I howled, kicking and scratching his hands with my fingernails until I drew blood.

His grip only tightened more. “Calm down!” Luke yelled. I kicked and I hit his sides with my fists for lack of something better to do. Nothing worked; he still held onto me for dear life. “Iris, stop it or I'll arrest you.”

I let my body go limp, holding up my hands in defeat. “Okay, I'll stop,” I said. “I'll stop.”

“Can you control yourself?” Luke asked, almost breathless.

“I can. I'll be good.”

He released me. A strong ache in my hand rocketed up my arm, painful enough that I groaned.
Fuck.
I tried to move my fingers but the pain worsened.
Great.

Shepherd had gotten to his feet during my tantrum and was being examined by a paramedic. Though tears filled his eyes, he moved his jaw around. Luke stepped toward the duo. “Is it broken?” Luke asked.

“No,” the paramedic answered. “I didn't hear a crack.”

Great, I probably had a broken hand and Shepherd walked away with a bruise. If there were any justice in the world, I would have knocked off his entire jaw. Shepherd looked over at me through the tears. “You're out of your fucking mind!” he shouted at me. “You're going to jail, Ballard. I'm pressing charges!”

I stepped toward him, ready for round two, but Luke moved in front of me. “Iris, just walk away. Just walk away, okay?” he pleaded through gritted teeth.

I glanced at Shepherd, who just stood there clutching his wounded jaw.
So not worth it.
I turned back to Luke and nodded. His tense body seemed to relax a fraction at least. I jutted my chin out and walked past Shepherd with my head held high. I maintained this facade until I got into the command post.
If at all possible, never let them see you sweat.

Officers walking to and fro eyed me as I passed. I tried to ignore them by looking straight ahead at the flashing lights, but I could still feel their gazes on me. There was an open police car off to the side, away from the havoc. The perfect place to hide. I climbed into the passenger's side and sat facing the trees. If I couldn't see behind me, I could ignore everything and maybe it would all go away. If I just sat there staring at the calm trees long enough everyone would just vanish, and I would have peace. Seemed logical at the time.

Of course it was hard to find peace with a throbbing hand. My fingers were already swelling, with my index finger turning a light shade of purple. I was going to need X-rays and a splint at the very least.
Fuck,
I used to pull my punches better. Guess I was out of practice.

I slowly wiggled each finger up and down at the knuckle. They moved, though not without a painful protest. I was working the thumb when Luke came up to me with an ice pack in his bandaged hand. “Is your hand broken?”

“I don't know.”

He gently took my hand and began moving my index finger around in a circle. I winced in pain. He shook his head before placing the ice pack on my hand. I winced again. “I don't think it's broken,” he said. “We'll take you to the hospital just to be sure.”

I nodded and sighed. I hated hospitals. After my last stay, I swore I'd never set foot in another one again as a patient. I just couldn't seem to keep my promises lately. “Are
you
okay?” I asked, eyeing his bandaged hands.

“Not too bad. I'm just glad you keep your nails short.”

“I am
so
sorry. I just saw red.”

“It was horrible in there. I wanted to punch somebody too.”

“You always did have better impulse control than me.” He didn't contradict me. “I really screwed up, didn't I? But after what he did, I…” I shook my head. “He did a good job, didn't he? Got me to do exactly what he wanted me to.”

“Iris, what the hell are you talking about?”

I quickly looked up. “You know.”