had anticipated it would come to this. Roland had had another plan all along.
Roland distanced himself a few paces from Tom. The gun was steady in Roland’s hand. Moonlight fell on Dee’s bloated face. The man had one arm wrapped around Jill, and Tom could see the glint cast off by his massive ring. Dee’s other hand held a gun pointed at Jill’s head.
“Get on your knees, Tom,” Roland said.
“What are you doing, Roland?”
“Get on your knees now, Tom. Or Frankie will shoot your daughter.”
Jill let out a muffled cry. She struggled again to get free. Dee pressed the gun barrel against Jill’s temple. Tom sank to his knees, as though praying to the duffel bag that lay in front of him.
“This is the scene of a double homicide. A murder-suicide, to be exact. You killed Lindsey Wells. You couldn’t let Jill live, because the scars of what you’ve done will damage her forever. No, you decided she’d be better off dead. It’ll be easier for her that way.”
Tom heard Jill’s muffled shriek again.
Roland circled out of Tom’s direct line of sight. Tom kept his eyes focused forward and locked on Jill. He didn’t turn his head to see where Roland had moved. Instead, he listened to Roland’s footsteps. Roland was standing to his right. He assumed Roland was pointing his gun at Tom’s head. It made sense. Murder-suicide. Roland would shoot Tom in the side of his head. Then he’d shoot Jill.
Tom kept his eyes locked forward. He focused only on Jill. He looked into her eyes. Even in the dark he could see they were wide with fear, like two black moons against a pale white sky. Those eyes were filled with tears. She struggled again to get free. But Dee pressed the gun barrel to her head until she stopped fighting.
Jill went limp. Fainted, perhaps. Dee kept her propped up like a doll.
“Sorry it came down to this, Tom. But it’s the cleanest way. You’re a family man. You can understand. I have to do this for my family. I can’t give up on my boy.”
Tom heard the emotion in Roland’s voice. A weakness in his resolve, perhaps.
“Did Mitchell kill Lindsey? You want to pin this on me, is that it?”
“Kids can make stupid mistakes,” Roland said. “You and I both know that.”
“Roland, you don’t have to do this. There’s another way. We can come up with something.”
Silence.
Tom’s heart pounded in his chest. Jill had come back to her senses and was struggling again. But Dee held her fast.
Roland spoke. “There’s no other way, Tom. This cleans it all up. Nobody will investigate anything now. It’ll all fall on you. You’re the guy running the sexting ring. You killed Lindsey to silence a witness. You realized all the lives you ruined. You took decisive action.”
“The angle of your shot won’t be right,” Tom said. “Forensics will pick up on that.”
“Won’t happen. I know where to hit you. But if it isn’t, I’ve got the connections to make questions go away.”
“What about the gun? Where’d I get it? Did you think of that?”
“You stole it. Stole it from me, in fact. When you broke into my house. The police report’s already been filed.”
“Why wouldn’t I use my own gun?”
Roland laughed. “You know, I thought you’d have one, being a SEAL and all. But we looked. When you were at Marvin’s funeral, Frank searched all through your house. He found the knife and put that where the police would find it. But no gun to be found.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Roland—”
“Good-bye, Tom. I really am sorry it came to this.”
“I do have a gun.” Tom fell sideways. In a single motion, he reached behind his back and pulled a gun from the waistband of his sodden jeans. The gun was remarkably well preserved, even though it had lain hidden beneath the water for fifteen years. For fifteen years, the gun had been sealed inside a waterproof dry bag. Its only companion was a stash of drugs that a young Tom Hawkins couldn’t allow to get wet and ruined.
The gun was a Beretta M9. An army private named Kip Lange had used it during a robbery gone bad. It had been fired only twice. On his way back to the Spot, Tom had checked the gun over for corrosion, to see if it still had a chance of firing. The bullets, four in total, were dry and lodged inside the magazine. Tom believed the gun would fire. But he didn’t have any proof. Just as Rainy believed in his innocence but lacked the proof. Just as Jill believed in her father enough to trust him again. Tom
And so he pulled the trigger as he fell. There was a flash. An explosion and burst of light followed. The recoil from the thrust as the bullet dislodged from the barrel.
There was his proof.
The first bullet slammed into Roland’s shoulder. The second shot hit him in the leg. Roland fell to the ground with a thud.
Frank Dee did exactly what Tom expected of him. He acted to remove the immediate threat. Dee pulled his gun away from Jill and pointed the weapon at Tom. Tom fired two quick shots before Dee got off one.
The first bullet hit Dee in his firing hand. Dee’s gun fell to the ground as a splash of blood sprayed out from the fresh wound like a burst of red fireworks. Tom’s second shot could have been a kill shot. He had the time and skill to take aim and hit the target. But killing was in his past. So the bullet that could have flattened Dee’s skull instead tore through the man’s abdomen. Blood spurted from that hole as well. Dee fell backward to the ground.
Jill sprinted to her father as Dee was falling. Dee landed on the ground, groaning and clutching at his wounds. Tom doubted he’d hit any vital organs. Dee would live. Roland would live, too.
Killing was in his past.
Jill stumbled as she ran. Tom got to his feet and wrapped his daughter in his frozen arms. He removed the gag covering her mouth and unbound her wrists. She was hyperventilating. Couldn’t speak. She clutched Tom like a life preserver that she couldn’t grip tightly enough.
Tom went over to Roland, who was still on the ground. He dropped the Beretta into the duffel bag, then retrieved Roland’s gun, which had fallen nearby. He stared down at Roland, who was writhing in pain and covered in blood and dirt. He heard Dee groaning, too. Both threats were neutralized.
Jill kept clutched to her father’s waist. She was shivering. But he was hot with adrenaline.
“If all you wanted were the drugs, why didn’t you make any demands?” Tom said to Roland. His speech came out rapid and breathless. “Why’d you frame me for having an affair with Lindsey? Why make it look like I was running a sexting ring, but never try to blackmail me into giving up where I hid them? It doesn’t make sense. I need to know why you did it.”
“Wouldn’t you… like to know…” Roland’s words came out in spurts. He licked at his shivering lips to wet them. His breathing, labored and heavy, accentuated the rise and fall of his heaving chest.
“Yeah, I get it. You’ve got people who do it for you,” Tom said, kneeling beside Roland. “You’ve got Cortland. But my question is why?” Tom dug the barrel of the gun into the bloody mess he made of Roland’s shoulder. Roland shrieked out in pain.
“It wasn’t me!” he yelled. “I didn’t do it.”
“Bullshit,” Tom said, using the barrel to poke around for the actual bullet hole.
“I swear… it wasn’t me…. I didn’t set you up….”
Tom heard footsteps approach.
“Tom? Are you there? Tom?”
Tom looked in the direction of the voice. He saw a flashlight beam dance in the darkness. A figure emerged from the path that led to the Spot. Moonlight helped Tom to see the woman who had spoken. The voice that had come from the woods.
Adriana Boyd.
Chapter 83
