Hushed (22 page)

Tuesday, November 25
^th

Classes crept by at the pace of an eighty-year-old lady with arthritis. Archer did a lot of staring at the ceiling. Or the floor. Or his hands. Focusing on everything except classes. The only reason he bothered showing up at all was to avoid getting kicked out completely. He’d missed too much already.

He chucked his bag into the passenger seat afterward and drove faster than was necessary to get to the station. Evan would be meeting him there. They had their cell phone bills, complete with a breakdown of the texts they’d received from Vivian. It was sheer luck they contained nothing that would incriminate
him
.

Detective Stevens met him in the lobby. No Evan. “He had class, but… Maybe he’s caught in traffic.” Even as Archer said it, he knew better. Evan’s last class today got out at noon. It was nearly six. No reason for him not to be there.
He would have texted. Called.

Unwilling to wait around any longer, Stevens ushered him into an office. Archer didn’t emerge for an hour and a half, and still no Evan in the lobby.

“Might’ve missed the memo,” Stevens said absently.

Archer shot him a glare. It wasn’t like Evan to run late, even if an emergency came up. He tried calling as he headed out to the car. No answer.

He fell asleep. Phone’s on silent. Maybe something happened with his family. Maybe he lost his phone…

None of the theories sat right.

Vivian was missing, and the cops were going crazy looking for her. They hadn’t tethered her to Mickey or the redhead’s murder yet, but as Archer had suspected Hector turned up dead in the park. Gunshot wound. Now Evan wasn’t responding and the words from her first text kept flashing through his head.

You’re in over your head.

He felt it as real as he could feel his hands shaking on the steering wheel as he hurried home. Something was wrong.

§

Evan’s apartment lay silent and empty and dark. A plate sat on the dining table, telling Archer he’d at least eaten lunch there. But that was it. No note, no nothing. Except as he left, he spotted Evan’s car in the parking lot. His keys hadn’t been hanging inside the apartment door.

My place.

He couldn’t run across the complex fast enough. There was no sign of Vivian’s car, but it didn’t mean a thing. If she knew the police were looking for her, she wouldn’t be stupid enough to drive her own around.

He took the steps to his door two at a time. Outside, he stopped. Called again. Pressed his ear to the door and listened for any sound of Evan’s ringing phone inside.

Nothing.

His fingers brushed the knob and the door creaked open an inch. Whoever had come in last hadn’t closed it. Or locked it. Evan didn’t have a key to his place yet. Didn’t leave a lot of options. Did he call the police? They would tell him to wait, not to go in. He couldn’t do that, not if something had happened to Evan.

Deep breath, and he stepped inside. The bedroom door was shut, but he remembered leaving it open. So focused on that fact, he shut the door and didn’t notice Vivian at first, stepping out of the kitchen. Archer found himself staring down the barrel of his own gun. She had papers in her hand. It looked suspiciously like the story he’d gotten back from Gonera.

“Hey, baby.”

She was out of his reach; he couldn’t grab for her. He was willing to bet she had shitty aim, but she didn’t need to know how to aim at this distance with a human-sized target.

“Where’s Evan?” he asked quietly.

“Oh,
God.
” Vivian threw her free hand into the air. “First words out of your mouth. Of course. Do you have any idea the shit I’ve been going through this week? I haven’t even been able to go
home
, Archer. Someone’s been parked at my complex, waiting for me.”

The detective hadn’t mentioned anything about that. Then again, why would he have? Or maybe Vivian had completely lost it and was getting paranoid. Archer’s eyes flicked from her to the gun and back again. Her eyes were dark-rimmed and puffy from lack of sleep, her hair pulled back into a haphazard ponytail. The bones of her thin shoulders, of her collarbone and cheeks, were more prominent than ever.

She pointed to the coffee table. “Take out your phone. Put it down.”

Slowly, Archer slid the cell out of his pocket and did as he was told. “You killed Hector.” Without a doubt, he knew that she had. The one person out of Brody’s friends who had tried to make something out of his life, tried to turn himself around
…
“What about Bobby?”

Her voice wavered. “What does it matter if I did? The cops were coming after me anyway. Figured I might as well finish what you wouldn’t.”

That logic sent his heart racing. Someone who had nothing to lose was a hell of a lot more dangerous than someone who could still make it out of this. If she knew they had her pinned, what reason did she have to not put a bullet through someone else?

Evan. Where is Evan?

“Sit down on the couch,” she ordered. He did. He thought of lunging. Grabbing the gun. But she was far enough away he didn’t trust he’d get to it before she could fire. Vivian waved the papers at him and tossed them to the table. “I read your story. Not bad. The little boy is you, right? Even though you never killed your mom.”

Some of the papers slid to the floor, on top of his feet. He didn’t break his gaze from her face. “It’s a story, Vivian.”

She cocked her head. “Who was the person at the end? The one that saves him?”

He set his jaw. “It’s just a story. What does it matter?”

“Is it me?”

“No.” Clipped. Easy. He didn’t care if he hurt her feelings now.
Marissa
had been his savior as a kid. There would’ve been no childhood without her. “I’m not playing these games with you. What do you want from me, Vivian?”

Her lower lip trembled and tears spilled down her cheeks. They didn’t make him feel guilty. He felt… What did he feel?

Nothing. Blissfully. Nothing.

“I want to know why you left me. I want to know why you chose
him
.”

There was an answer to that, but she wouldn’t want it. Archer resisted the urge to turn and look toward the bedroom. “I’m not telling you anything until you tell me what you did with him.”

She stomped the ground fitfully. “He’s fucking
sleeping
, okay? I shot him full of tranquilizer. And I’ll do the same to you if you’re not going to give me answers!”

No need to ask where she’d gotten drugs like that. Touring the hospital once a week with her nursing classes, she could’ve talked any gullible intern into filching it for her. Too bad stealing medical supplies didn’t strike him as a huge offense standing next to murder. But Evan was okay. He tried to cling to that thought. “I would’ve stayed with you.”

“But you didn’t.” She swiped at her eyes with her free hand. “I’ve lost Mom, I’ve lost Mickey, now you’re leaving me, too.
Why
?”

“You have no right to ask me that.”

“I killed Mickey for you!” she wailed. “I thought if I got him out of the way, it would be just me and you. We’re both monsters, and I thought that would make you happy. What is it, Archer? You only want me when you can’t have me?”

His hands trembled. Damn them. Damn
her.

“I would’ve jumped at the chance to be with you.” He curled his fingers against the tops of his thighs. Tried to will them still. “I would’ve stayed by your side for the rest of my life…if you had ever given me the time of day. But it was
never
me.
I
was never enough. All the boyfriends you went through, even the one that ditched you at prom—who was there, Viv? Who has
always
been there waiting for you?”

Her eyes pinched shut. Not long enough for him to lurch around the coffee table and grab her. She lowered the gun and started to pace. Back and forth. Back and forth. Like a caged animal. “Why’d you kill Brody and the others?”

“I thought it would make things better.”

“Then why wouldn’t you kill Mickey?”

He shook his head. “I realized I couldn’t make you happy. I wasn’t making myself happy. Parents are missing sons now because of me.”

Vivian stopped and stared. “Evan made you feel that way.”

“No,” he said quickly. “But he gave me a lot of things to think about.”

Her voice shook. “He doesn’t love you, you know. I do. I love you more, I proved it. I proved it, and you’ll see for yourself. I took care of you like you always took care of me.”

Even with the adrenaline racing through his veins, her words made him so tired. Nothing he said would make this better. “I was
miserable
, Vivian. I had to do what I had to do.”

“And what is that?”

Archer met her eyes, unflinching, unwavering. “I had to let you go.”

She choked on a sob, stepped back. “No.”

“Vivian.” He stood slowly.

“
No.
He’s not taking you away!”

Archer reached for her. She slipped away, made for the hall. The bedroom.

“I won’t be alone!”

She threw the door open. He barely saw Evan on the bed, groggy, but awake. Trying to move. He caught Vivian around the waist, tearing her away. A shot fired and he didn’t know where it went.

They staggered back into the hall. Him dragging, her kicking, screaming, beating her hands against his shoulders and arms. Her elbow caught him in the stomach, and he loosened his grip, enough that she squirmed and twisted around to face him. Her nails caught his neck, clawed down his face.

“Vivian.
Stop
,” he begged.
Don’t do this, don’t do this.
Everything they’d meant to one another, everything they’d been through…all lost in those seconds while she screamed and sobbed. He could feel the gun pressed against him, just beneath his ribs as she pushed at him, begging him to let go.

Crack.

A sharp sound. His ears rang. Blisters of light smothered his vision.

It didn’t register. Not until Vivian went still, eyes wide. There was blood on her hands, on her shirt.

He sagged back against the wall. His eyes didn’t leave hers.

She’d shot him. She’d
shot
him
.

“Archer…”

He pressed a hand to his stomach. Hot. Hot everywhere. It seared up into his lungs. Heart. Bones. Down to his legs. His fingers. He could feel it everywhere and yet it wasn’t exactly pain. Vivian knelt before him, touching his face. It stung were she’d clawed him earlier.

“
…Didn’t mean to, oh my God…”

Good intentions. The road to Hell. He couldn’t quite remember how the phrase went. And yet for all her
I didn’t mean to
, she didn’t try to stop the bleeding. She didn’t call for help. Didn’t put down the gun.

She cried.

But he didn’t think it was for him.

You’ll be alone now. How does it make you feel?

Vivian kissed him. Just once. Just briefly. Tasting of tears.

“Maybe it should be this way,” she whispered against his mouth. The world was muted, muffled. Maybe it was the sound of the gunshot still reverberating in his skull. Maybe it was the blood rushing out of him.

“There’s nothing else left.”

As he watched, she put the gun to her chest. Just watched. A spectator, out of his own body as she told him she loved him. He couldn’t say it back.

The gun went off again. Her body didn’t sink, it crumpled. Archer couldn’t reach her. He slumped over slowly to his side and they lay there, facing each other. Vivian’s body trembled and red bubbled past her mouth when she tried to speak, her blue eyes watching him. Watching, watching, watching. Scared and tortured.

Broken. Just like him.

They were alike after all, he dimly realized. Without him, without Marissa, Vivian was a shell. Just bones.

He touched two fingers to her lips.

“Hush, it’ll be all right…”

Vivian opened her mouth to say something, but the words didn’t come. Her shaking stopped. None of it mattered. Archer couldn’t protect her. Couldn’t save her.

Vivian was right. Maybe neither of them were worth saving.

???

An unholy heat scorched his insides from head to toe. People spoke in hurried whispers.

Loud. Fast. Urgent.

They prodded him, moved him.

Go, go. I’m tired.

Exhausted. He wanted to sleep.

The noise stopped. He was hot, but they covered him with blankets anyway.

A woman in mint green pressed a cold hand to his forehead. So cold it burned.

Evan,
he wanted to ask.
How is Evan?

She leaned over him. Worried. About him? He couldn’t ask. Eventually she left, too.

Archer was drawn back to darkness, lulled by the dull, rhythmic beep of machines.