In Big Trouble

said-and I promised, and I keep my promises, I always keep my promises. He was the one who broke his promise. He said no one would be hurt. Only bad people, he said. Only bad people, who deserved what they got.'

The door opened, and Clay stumbled in, a police officer at his side. Good for him, he hadn't waited the prescribed fifteen minutes. They would need a cop to get an ambulance through the crowds, to get Crow the help he needed. The parade was starting, she could hear the strains of a marching band, blasting out something that sounded like 'I've Been Working on the Railroad.' She looked up hopefully into the face of the cop with the rifle on his hip.

Steve Villanueve took off his dark glasses.

'Don't feel bad, Tess,' he said. 'You weren't the only one who never stopped to think that Pilar Rodriguez had a family, too. Or that there was someone who loved her enough to avenge her death.'

Chapter 29

'Pilar Rodriguez was my family's cook,' Clay said stupidly. Tess noticed he was still holding his book, a finger at his place, as if he might have time to finish a chapter or two before Steve killed all of them.

'Pilar Rodriguez was my grandmother.' Steve used the rifle's long barrel to prod Clay into the corner where Tess crouched, her hand still bearing down hard on Crow's wound. The door was less than fifteen feet away on a diagonal, Tess judged. If she or Clay ran, they might make it before Steve got off a shot. But she couldn't leave Crow, and Clay seemed to be in a trance.

As did Emmie, who couldn't stop staring at her cousin. She chewed a knuckle, eyes wide, her back pressed so hard against the wall that she might have been nailed to it. It had probably been a year since she was this near to him, since he had been close enough for her to touch, to gaze into the shadowed eyes so like hers.

In a room full of people, Tess was clearly on her own.

'You did fool me,' she told Steve. 'I thought you were an overeager rookie, trying to win points with the boss. But you were miles ahead of Guzman.'

He nodded curtly, too distracted by the events swirling around him to pay much heed to her fake praise, much less be taken in by it. Sweat beaded on his brow, and his round face had a flushed, feverish quality. He had looked like that when they were running together. Yet this day was cool, and the little room, away from direct sunlight, was cooler still.

'Pilar Rodriguez,' Tess said, musing aloud. 'No, I never gave much thought to her. ‘The cook.' That's what Guzman, everyone, always called her. The cook.'

'As if she were nothing,' Steve said. 'As if she weren't a person, too.'

He was still looking out the window. He would have a very precise plan, Tess knew. He had probably written it down, gone over every possible scenario, then committed it all to memory. Tess suddenly realized he was the one who had put the gun beneath Crow's bed, left his T-shirt at Espejo Verde, hoping to be rid of him before today. He was that careful. He was so careful that any disruption, any unexpected contingency, would throw him off his stride. How flustered he had been in the park that day, when she had seen through him. Well, almost seen through him. Crow's appearance today would have kicked up the first stone in his path. Now here were Tess and Clay. Everything was falling apart.

'I don't remember her,' Clay murmured. 'I know her name, of course, but I don't remember her.'

'I do,' Emmie said. 'She smelled like vanilla. She was the one who called me Dutch.'

'She wasn't yours to remember,' Steve said. 'She was your employee. She cooked your meals, she took care of you, so she would have money for her own children and grandchildren. Money, but no time, because she worked six days a week, living in your house. She made the food that made Espejo Verde famous. So then she had two jobs. Before too long, she had a third job as well-babysitting, while Lollie Sterne fucked her best friend's husband in the little bedroom off the kitchen.'

Steve leaned out the window, checking on the parade below. Even if anyone noticed him, it wouldn't matter. Why shouldn't a cop in a bullet-proof vest be watching the parade from such a vantage point? Why shouldn't he have a powerful rifle with a scope?

'I know that. We all know that,' Tess said, although she wasn't sure what Clay knew, but he didn't seem surprised by anything he had heard so far. 'Why so much talk? Go ahead, kill us. If my time is up, I don't want boredom to be the last thing I experience.'

'You just wait,' Steve muttered, still looking out the window. 'You won't be bored much longer.'

She looked down at Crow, now barely conscious. She thought she saw him try to jerk his chin toward Emmie, but that must be wishful thinking on her part. Was he trying to tell her something? Maybe she should be focusing on Emmie, instead of trying to fence with Steve. After all, one never knew what she might do.

'Why not jump right now, Emmie?' she asked with elaborate carelessness. 'Clay's here. That's what really matters, isn't it? Him watching you die. Everything else-killing Darden and Weeks, killing Gus-is gravy. Go ahead and jump. Because it's not really about avenging the death of your mother, is it? It's about you. It was always all about you.'

'Not just me-'

'Clay, too, of course. But not Lollie, or her death. You never really knew your mother. But you knew Clay. You loved him. And he chose his father over you.'

Emmie scratched furiously at her legs, but gloved fingers couldn't draw fresh blood through her pink tights. Clay looked at Tess with undisguised revulsion. She didn't care. She watched Steve's eyes dart nervously around the room. His plan was unraveling, slipping through his hands like so much string.

'Shut up,' he said. 'Just shut up.'

'You do understand, Emmie, he's going to kill Clay,' Tess continued in the most conversational tone she could muster. 'He has to. In fact, I think he always intended to kill Clay. Oh, sure, he told he would kill Gus, then let you jump in the confusion. With your body broken, and such an easy solution at hand-Gus Sterne's homicidal cousin finally does him in after years of trying-they won't look too closely at the physical evidence. I bet Steve even had you write a letter, confessing to everything, telling Guzman how you figured out that Gus Sterne was the man who hired Darden and Weeks to kill Frank Conyers.'

'There is a letter,' Emmie muttered, almost to herself. 'But to Clay-I wrote you a letter, Clay. So you'd know, so you'd understand. I'd do anything for you, anything.'

'Clay's not going to be reading any letters,' Tess said.

'Stop talking,' Steve ordered, waving the rifle at both of them. 'I can't hear myself think, with all this chatter.'

Tess looked at Steve. 'How many fingers did you have to cut from Weeks' hand before he confessed, before he gave you the name that Emmie already knew? All ten or was that simply for show? Did you have to stuff Crow's T-shirt in his mouth to keep his screams from being heard, or did you and Emmie bring that back later, when your first attempt to frame Crow failed? Not that I blame you for your methods. After you killed Tom Darden, Weeks was your only chance to find out for sure if Gus Sterne had arranged the murders.'

'I'll kill him,' Steve said, pointing his rifle at Crow. 'I'll put his brains in your lap if you don't stop talking.'

'No, no, no, no, no,' Emmie sang to herself, covering her ears. 'No, no, no, no, no.'

Tess took a deep breath, exhaling the way one does on a difficult weight exercise. 'Go ahead,' she said. 'Show Emmie who you really are. Kill Crow. Kill me. My only regret is I'm not going to live long enough to watch you try to convince Emmie that Clay has to die, too, and by her hand. But he always was the target, wasn't he? That's why you dragged him in here when you saw him waiting outside. You don't want to kill Gus Sterne. You want him to live, the way you've lived. You want him to grieve.'

'Steve?' Emmie asked.

'Don't listen to her. She's trying to turn you against me. I'm the only one who ever understood you, Emmie. The only person who doesn't think it's crazy to die for love.'

'You're killing for it, not dying,' Tess said. 'There's a difference. If you want to die for love, I won't stop you.'