‘Derrick Poole?’ A woman pushed her way through the cameras. She was in her thirties maybe. She wore a nice suit. She looked like a reporter. He turned to her as he was getting in the Town Car.
‘I have a question, too. How will it feel to meet the devil?’ she asked, with a broad smile. ‘Are you excited?’
He heard the gunshot first, then he felt the pain in his gut. He stared into her dark eyes as the screaming began all around him.
‘A gun! A gun! She has a gun!’
‘Oh my God!’
‘She’s shooting!’
‘He’s been shot!’
People ran in a dozen directions. The crowd that had gathered around him dispersed. Gemma ran, too. He watched her run off. She never even looked back. The only one left was the woman. Even the cops were gone.
Derrick looked down at the blood that was now spreading across his white dress shirt. It was a new suit, too. He’d bought it especially for the trial. He held out his hands at the woman and saw they were covered in blood. There was a hole in his stomach.
‘That was for Noelle,’ the angry woman said, just as calmly as when she’d first walked up. He fell to his knees. ‘But you won’t be seeing her again, you fuck, because she went to heaven.’
Then she pointed the gun at his forehead and fired again.