“Jesus,” Madigan muttered, “Kayleigh’s the fourth victim. The last verse. ‘Trouble can find us in the heart of our homes.’ Alicia’s going to kill her in her house.”
Dance ripped her phone from the holster and punched in the singer’s number.
I SHOULD WRITE a song about things like this, Kayleigh thought, thoroughly enjoying the bath, the soundtrack of Loretta Lynn, the violet scent of the candle she’d lit.
“The small pleasures,” she sang. No. “The little pleasures.” Scans better. The extra syllable helped.
It would be about how the tragedies in life, the things we can’t control, are often diminished, if not cancelled, by the small things.
“An antidote to pain.”
Nice line, she thought. Nobody’d ever used “antidote” in a song that she knew of. Good. But then… wait. Hold on. You don’t have to write a song every five minutes.
But she didn’t actually
In the other room she heard her phone ringing. Kayleigh debated. Ignore it. Four rings, then voicemail.
“I love the summer rain… It’s an antidote to pain…” Hm, she thought wryly. Awful! Just because some lines come fast doesn’t mean they’re any good. But part of being a pro is knowing what sucks and what doesn’t. She’d work on it.
Then, hearing the mobile trill again, she thought of Mary-Gordon. Was Suellyn calling because she was sick, did she want Kayleigh to bring a special toy from the house? Concern for the little girl was what prodded Kayleigh out of the tub. She dried off and dressed fast in jeans and a blouse. Pulled on socks. And her glasses.
Maybe it was Alicia calling back. What exactly did she want to talk to her about, out of Bishop’s hearing?
Could be anything, she decided. The assistant and Bishop had never really gotten along. Her father liked women who fawned. Alicia did what she was supposed to for him-he was the head of the company-but there was always some tension between them because she would not kowtow to the big man.
She picked up the phone. Ah, Kathryn’s number. She hit the CALL-BACK button.
As it rang, she glanced out the window. It was dark now but she made out Alicia’s blue pickup truck sitting in the drive. Kayleigh hadn’t heard her arrive but she could let herself in. She had a key.
Dance’s phone clicked.
Kayleigh started to say, “Hey, how’re-?”
But the agent said urgently, “Kayleigh, listen to me. I don’t have time to go into the details. Alicia Session’s on her way there. She’s going to kill you. Get out of the house. Now!”
“What?”
“Just get out!”
Downstairs, the kitchen door opened and Alicia called out, “Hey, Kayleigh. It’s me. You decent?”
THROUGH HER PHONE Kathryn Dance heard Kayleigh’s voice catch. Then she whispered, “She’s here! She’s downstairs. Alicia!”
Oh, no. How to handle it?
Dance, Harutyun and Madigan were in the FMCSO cruiser speeding away from Alicia’s apartment in the Tower District. Dance told the men that Alicia was already at Kayleigh’s house and then said into the phone, “Is Darthur there?”
“No, he’s gone. We thought it was all over with, with Simesky dead.”
“Get out. Can you run into the woods?”
“I… No. I’m upstairs. I don’t think I can jump. And I’d have to go past her if I went downstairs. Can I talk to her? Why does she-”
“No, you have to hide, stay away. She has a gun. We’ll have troopers there as soon as we can but it’ll be twenty minutes. Are you in a room with a lock?”
“My bedroom. Yes. But it’s not much.”
“What about a weapon?”
“My gun’s downstairs, locked up.”
“Just barricade yourself in the room. And stall.”
“Oh, Jesus, Kathryn. What’s going on?”
“Barricade yourself as best you can. We’ll be there soon.”
The siren spread outward on the hot, dry air and the urgent blue and white lights ricocheted off cars and signs and windows as they raced through the evening.
“KAYLEIGH?” ALICIA CALLED again from downstairs.
Where was she? Kayleigh wondered. Still in the kitchen? The den?
“Down in a minute.” She stared at the door.
Close it, girl! What’s the matter with you. Buy time. Lock it, barricade it.
At the door she called, “Just out of the shower. I’ll be down in five.” She closed and locked the door. But the chair she tried to wedge under the knob was too low. Her dresser was too heavy to move. The vanity table wouldn’t stop Mary-Gordon.
Find a weapon. Anything.
A nail file? A lamp?
Don’t be an idiot, jump!
She ran to the window. Below her was not only concrete but a wrought-iron fence. If she didn’t break her back she’d be impaled.
Listening at the door again, ear against the wood.
“Kayleigh?”
“Be down soon! Have a beer or make some coffee!”
Jump out the window. It’s your only chance.
Then Kayleigh thought suddenly: no fucking way.
I’m fighting.
She grabbed the vanity stool and ripped off the Laura Ashley padded covering. The furniture was five pounds of hard wood. Not much but it would have to do. I’ll lure her up here and bash her head in.
Kayleigh moved to the door, listening. She took a firm stance, gripping the stool like a baseball bat.
Then her phone rang.
Squinting at the screen. The number was vaguely familiar. Wait… It was Edwin Sharp’s! She recalled the number from the label of the redwood tree toy he’d helped Mary-Gordon pick out.
“Hello, Edwin?”
He said tentatively, “Hey, Kayleigh, listen. I’m almost there. Alicia asked me not to call you, just to come over. But, I don’t know, what’s this all about? Is it some kind of settlement thing? I don’t want anything from you. It wasn’t your fault what that guy with the congressman did.”
And with a heart-shaking jolt, Kayleigh understood. For whatever reason Alicia had set up Edwin. She’d asked
“Oh, Edwin, there’s a problem.”
“You sound funny. What’s the matter? I mean-”
“Stay away! Alicia’s here. She’s going to kill me. She wants to-”
A pause. “You’re not, like, serious?”
“She’s setting you up. She’s here now.”
“I’ll call the police.”
She said, “I did. They’re on their way.”
“I’m five minutes away.”
