Twenty Eight

Addy

“False alarm, honey,” Jay called. He looked at Addy and nodded. She knew what to do now; they had to find something—anything—that could be evidence against Laurel. Preferably the pills she’d used to drug him.

Addy slipped past Jay and went to work, searching first through the suitcases as thoroughly as her trembling hands would let her. Jay was working on the dressers, gun steady in his hand as he dug through clothes and other personal belongings.

The bathroom door creaked open then, and both Addy and Jay turned to look. A woman in her forties stepped out, holding a white towel in one hand. She was tall, slim, garbed in a black cocktail dress and sandals studded with diamonds. She was a beautiful woman, one of class and elegance—not someone who looked like a murderer.

“Laurel,” Jay said, his voice catching with emotion.

Addy’s palms went clammy as the woman’s eyes flickered back and forth between them. She saw Addy kneeling in front of an open suitcase, then spotted the gun Jay held. Laurel set the hand towel down on the closest table and cocked her head to the side, looking almost curious. She showed no fear.

“It’s been a while,” she said to Jay. Her voice was sultry—almost sexy. Jay’s only response as far as Addy could see was his thumb stroking the metal of the gun. “How have you been?”

She moved forward confidently as if everything was Goddamn peachy. Addy felt the smooth glass of the window behind her, cooling the heat of her hands. She turned and pulled the curtains shut, realizing at that moment that the whole world might see them through the window alone. Then she continued to dig for the pills she could only pray were somewhere on them.

“I’ve been swell,” Jay said to her. He’d stopped searching for a moment and ran his free hand over the windowsill, collecting dust on the tip of his fingers. His eyes caught Addy’s as he passed her, and he smiled briefly, reassuring. “Nothing too significant. Mourning. Running. Hiding. My prison sentence was fun.”

“Mourning?” Laurel repeated.

Addy’s face flamed when she saw Laurel’s eyes travel over her as if sizing her up.

But Laurel’s expression was only vaguely curious. She turned her head back toward Jay. “Why would you be mourning, my dear son?”

She moved to the middle of the room then, picking up a bottle of lotion from the nightstand. Then she took a seat on the edge of the bed and pumped some cream into her hand.

“I didn’t come here to play games,” Jay said.

Addy looked at her watch again. The police should have been there by now. They were running out of time.

“What do you want from me, Jay?” Laurel asked. She crossed one slender leg over the other, applying the lotion slowly, her face smug. “Why did you come here?”

“Why do you think?” he said. “I want a confession.”

She laughed, her tone a sing-song. Then she stood up and crossed the room. Her eyes were again on Addy, and she suddenly felt like she was standing under a hot, bright light.

“Who’s your friend?” she asked. Addy recoiled as Laurel reached out and touched her cheek softly. She smelled of peaches, a calming scent, but Addy was too frightened to feel any level of relaxation. She pulled her head back, away from Laurel’s fingers, and put on her best scowl.

“Don’t touch her,” Jay said. His voice was icy cold, his expression daunting.

Laurel’s hand dropped from her face. She backed away, but she was smiling. Addy hated that smile. There was something hidden beneath that smile, but Addy wasn’t sure she wanted to know what it was.

“Nice new catch,” Laurel said. “Not as cute as that fling you had back home, but she’ll do. Your father would be proud.”

Addy’s legs were heavy as steel as she forced herself forward, toward the door. She wanted to leave, and she wanted to take Jay with her, but she couldn’t. She wouldn’t.

“Have you found anything, Addy?” Jay asked.

“Nothing yet,” Addy said. She was frustrated, willing this to go faster. What could they tell the police—who were inevitably on their way—if they found no evidence to support Jay’s claim? He was a criminal and she was his sidekick. What would happen to them both?

“You both need to leave,” Laurel said. She crossed her arms and glared at Jay. Her voice was tight now, and the calm, fake bravado she’d been playing was gone. “You won’t get what you came for, Jay. Your best bet is to keep on running until you can run no more. There’s nothing here for you.”

Behind Addy, there was a sudden pounding on the door, rattling them into silence. She spun around, startled, her heart skipping a beat.

“Police!” yelled a male voice. “Open the door.”

Addy looked at Jay, and then back at the door. Before she could step forward to open it, the cops slammed into the frame, kicking it open, and a swarm of officers piled into the room, weapons raised and ready to fire. Addy stumbled back, falling against the wall, putting her hands in the air.

“Freeze!” one of them shouted at Jay. “PUT DOWN YOUR WEAPON!” Addy turned to see that Jay had grabbed Laurel around the neck. He had her pulled into him, the gun pointed at her head. Addy’s breathing seemed to cease, and she choked back a sob, eyes welling with tears.

“He’s come after me!” Laurel screamed. Now, she was sobbing, her face suddenly twisted into a mask of phony horror. “Do something!”

As she watched, Addy could see Jay’s grip tightening around her neck as he held her steady.

“Drop the gun, kid,” an officer said behind Addy.

“I know what that means,” hissed Jay. Addy closed her eyes, willing her heart to keep on beating. “She framed me, and nobody understands that. She framed me!”

“Jay—” Addy pleaded. “They’ll kill you!”

“Have you found anything yet?” Jay asked. “We need to find it.”

“Jay, don’t,” she pleaded. “Let them help you. I know you didn’t do it. I know you didn’t! But killing Laurel won’t bring your sister back. You know it won’t.” Addy stepped toward him, but Jay stepped back, dragging Laurel with him. She was still sobbing, but at least she’d shut up.

“I need to do this, Addy,” Jay whispered. “I’ve risked everything for this. If I turn myself over to them now, I’ll end up in prison. I can’t go back to jail. I need the evidence.”

“I won’t let you go to prison,” Addy said. “If you go to prison, I’m going to go to fucking prison with you.”

“You need to leave,” Jay said to her. “You have to go now. Get out of here.”

“No,” she said. “I’m not leaving you.”

“Addy!”

“You haven’t killed anyone yet,” the cop behind Addy said. “But your friend is correct. If you kill someone now, those options will no longer be available to you.”

Addy noticed that the grip on Laurel’s neck had tightened, and she closed her eyes, praying for this to all be over. She didn’t care if Laurel was hurt—not even a little bit. But she cared if Jay got in trouble for it.

Addy turned away from the scene in front of her and dropped to her knees beside the bed. It was their last choice. If only she could find something…

“Do something!” Laurel screamed.

“Mr. Dexter, lower the gun,” another officer said.

“I didn’t come all the way to let her squirm out of this now,” Jay said. “They’ve been on my trail this whole time, Addy.”

“You have three seconds to lower your weapon,” one police officer said. His tone implied no more bullshit, and Addy knew that it would be a matter of seconds before they’d shoot Jay dead on.

She was about to get back to her feet when she spotted it; there, under the bed, was a navy-blue travel kit. She ducked and reached for it, yanking the zipper down to empty the contents onto the bedspread. She was a second too late. The sound of Jay cocking the gun was distinct to her ears. It filled the silence of the room, like a pin dropping on a concrete floor—so minuscule, and yet so vivid.

“Tell them the truth, Laurel,” Jay shouted. “Tell them the truth or I’ll—”

The gunshot was deafening, painful like someone had cracked Addy upside the head with a steel bat. She hit the ground and covered her ears, head ringing with an unpleasant sensation. She could hear nothing around her, let alone focus on what was happening.

The shot echoed, ricocheting off the walls around them. For a moment after, there was silence. Blood roared in her ears, but the silence was suffocating. It was a frightening, dreadful silence that pressed at Addy’s lungs, daring her to breathe. When she lifted her head, she tasted pennies in her mouth. No, not pennies. Blood. In front of her, a body lay on the carpet, face down, unmoving.

“Jay,” she whispered as hot tears burned trails over her cheeks.