excuse. But I think he likes killing. It gives him pleasure. Best case, he's insane.”
“Shut up,” Louis said, wincing as the pain hit home. “You don't know what the hell you're talking about.”
“No? What's the body count in your son's name? Six? Seven? More? We'll make it what, nine? You know Natasha tried to save Gizmo, don't you, Evelyn. If Lindley hadn't hit your poor sister, you think he'd have let her live?”
“It won't work,” Louis said, pulling the survival knife from its resting place and gripping it in his bloody left hand to point the tip at Ward. “You're not going to save yourself by making up this psychological mumbo jumbo. You're a dead man.”
Ward didn't intend to shut up. “You don't feel anything, because psychopaths can't feel anything. You kill so you can, but there's no lasting satisfaction in it. And it's your only purpose. There's no stopping place. Everybody is responsible for your son's death except you. Everybody but you should die. So why did you start sleeping with that sergeant, Evelyn? Was it because you never felt loved? We're all just cardboard targets in Louis's world. He wants you to believe he loved your son, but what kind of love allows him to paint his son's legacy in blood? What kind of a meaningful monument is it? Natasha has spent the past three years saving children and raising money for a children's surgical center at the hospital, while he's spent the past three years killing people. Louis wants to kill Natasha, and his selfishness will do harm to innocent children, all like your son, for decades to come.”
“Bullshit. You're suing the people who killed your son,” Evelyn said. “That's revenge, just so you'll get hundreds of thousands of dollars.”
“The people responsible for killing Barney should pay for their mistake, but that money is going to the hospital in our son's name so something good can come out of our loss. We want to honor Barney's memory long after we're gone. You'll kill us and we'll be together with our Barney. What will Gizmo's life have counted for?”
“I'm going to gut you like a fish,” Louis said evenly. “While Natasha watches.”
“I suppose you can't believe in life after death,” Ward continued. “We do. If there's life after death, maybe Gizmo is watching you. He must be proud of his parents.”
“You're using bullshit psychology on us,” Louis said. “It won't work. Trying to divide us against each other. It's good, Ward, but she loves me. She loved Gizmo.”
“She's scared shitless of you,” Ward continued. “She's doing this because she knows that until we're gone, she's safe. Slipping that disk into my computer, getting close to feed you information on us. Doing her part while you snuck in and drugged me at home, and screwed with our heads. Once that's over, she knows you'll only have her left to punish.
“You're going to get caught,” Ward said, finally. “You'll see. And you're going to hell, and you won't ever see your son again because he won't be there.”
“Enough of this bullshit,” Louis said. He flinched and closed his eyes tight for a second.
Evelyn looked at her husband and back at Ward. Ward had gotten to her, but how much good that would do was impossible to gauge.
“Shoot the kid,” Louis said, opening his eyes. He put down the blade, grabbed up the gun and held it out to Evelyn, butt first. She looked at it, bewildered.
“What?” she asked.
“Shoot the toad,” he repeated. “You hate the bitch and she has to die. Or do you want me to do all the work myself?”
Evelyn's eyes reflected horror. “Me shoot her?”
“Take this, go over there, and put the fucking gun to her forehead and blow her brains out. Do it now!”
“I… can't do it,” she said, her eyes darting around the room.
“You've never killed anybody,” Ward said. “He wants the satisfaction of seeing you be like him.”
Louis flipped the weapon in his left hand to grip it. “You can't? You can't? Yes, you can, and you will!”
“She didn't do anything,” Evelyn protested.
“Did the boys in Lindley's cabin? Did you ever say, ‘They didn't do anything’? No, you said it was a good thing. Alice is an annoying little thief. And she's a witness. Do you want me to let her go so we can watch her testify against us?”
“You can do it,” Evelyn said. “You know how.”
“I taught you to shoot. But you don't mind if I kill her?” he asked.
Evelyn nodded. “Please.”
Louis aimed the gun at Alice, who pressed herself against Natasha, and squeezed the bag tighter to her chest.
Natasha held her tight, protectively. “Alice never even heard of Gizmo until she came here and we told her. She's as innocent as Gizmo was.”
“Collateral damage,” Louis said.
“Like those teenage boys at the lake,” Ward said. “Like Trey. You killed Trey, didn't you? And that hacker you hired. And Thumper?”
“Yes, I did. Now shut the fuck up.” He turned to his wife. “Are you going to take this gun and shoot her?” he demanded.
“No,” Evelyn said. “I won't do it. I can't, Louis.”
Louis winced, opened his eyes, and seemed to be weighing something for several seconds.
“I let you live in the trailer, because you promised you'd do whatever it took to help me pay back the bastards who killed Gizmo. Against my better judgment, I didn't use the torch on you, didn't fill you with spray foam. This is my reward?”
“You know I love you, Louis. I've proved that. But I can't and I-”
As she spoke, Louis turned the muzzle from Alice and fired. The bullet passed through the base of Evelyn's neck, ending her words, and punched a large hole in the window behind her. The thick double panes of glass around the hole formed a spiderweb of tiny cracks around it.
Evelyn looked at Louis, bewildered, and collapsed. Natasha screamed out, and Louis stood, aiming the gun at her.
“You bastard!” Ward yelled.
Louis waved the gun. “I ask her to do one little thing and she refuses. In all this time she's never done anything but sit back and keep her hands clean. She never loved Gizmo. She never loved anybody but herself. Totally selfish.”
“Let me help her,” Natasha demanded, straightening.
“She's beyond help,” Louis said, unloading the gun and putting it back down on the table. “I think we should get this finished.”
He picked up his knife and came into the den with blood streaming down his arm, dripping off his fingers.
Ward sprang from the chair and grabbed the poker. He raised it up like a major league batter and moved toward Louis. Blood dripped rapidly to the stone floor, the rug. Crouching, Louis held the knife in his left hand. Except for his hair, his bright teeth, and steel-blue eyes, the coating of ash totally obscured his features.
Louis pounced like a cat and was on Ward so fast he didn't have time to swing the poker. The knife passed through Ward's left shoulder, striking the bone as it went through the tissue.
Louis sprang back, balancing and waving the blade in a figure eight. Ward swung the poker, missing by a foot.
Natasha lunged from the couch and jumped on Louis's back, wrapping her arms around his neck and applying pressure.
Without so much as swaying, Louis snapped his head back and connected with Natasha's forehead, with a sound like a hammer striking a coconut. She collapsed behind him in a heap.
Despite the weakness in his shoulder, Ward raised the poker and swung again, stepping into the blow to close with Louis. Louis seemed to vanish as he ducked the poker's wide arc, moved in, and swung his blade, opening Ward's shirt and releasing a gout of blood through the sliced fabric. Ward dropped the poker as he fell backward against the fireplace. His right arm on the stone mantel for balance, Ward felt the prototype against his hand and gripped it.
Meeting Louis's eyes, and drawing strength from the victorious smile on the killer's lips, he mustered all of his strength and threw the car as hard as he could.
