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HE KNOWS HE SHOULD be upstairs helping Julie get ready for the holiday tomorrow, but he can’t bring himself to stop obsessing over the news of Matt’s arrest and current condition. He keeps refreshing the news pages on his laptop, waiting for an update. He has even gone as far as sending a nonchalant text to Heather, asking if she’s heard anything. This was supposed to be simple. He should be dead. Just like the rest.
When Heather mentioned she wanted to go visit him in the hospital, Ryan was surprised, but he immediately volunteered to come to get Evie. This was the surest way to get Heather to the hospital quickly so she could give him the inside scoop on Matt’s condition.
He cannot believe the bastard survived. It would have been a perfect crime, had Quinn not come over and ruined everything. His plan was for the sleeping pills to kick in so Matt wouldn’t fight back as Ryan fastened the noose. Instead, he had to hold a gun to his head and threaten to kill him and Quinn both if he responded to her voice, which sounded like it was getting closer and closer to the basement stairs. He panicked and had no choice but to strangle him with the rope before hanging him from the ceiling, which was no easy feat. He was certain he didn’t feel a pulse but couldn’t wait to find out as he heard Quinn’s footsteps. He kicked the chair out from underneath Matt and scrambled back out the basement window where he originally entered. He was back in the car before he realized he still had the rest of the rope in the front pocket of his hoodie, along with the engagement ring he found Matt sitting on the couch and staring at when he caught him by surprise an hour earlier. He still can’t believe Matt was planning on proposing to that mousy little blonde that’s always tagging along with Quinn Harstead. What could he possibly see in her?
Speaking of Quinn Harstead, the original plan was obviously to frame her. The stupid, careless woman who painted him as an adulterous asshole in a book that was read by millions. He received so much hate mail, he quit opening the envelopes at all. His mother was already gone, and she tried to kill his reputation, too. He should have finished her stupid little novel to see that the main character was the killer, not some faceless man. He never meant to make the community point their fingers at Heather, but once the narrative fit, he had to kill that roofer to keep the pattern going. This all seemed like a good idea until he realized the mother of his youngest child would be spending the rest of her life in prison and having another infant around full-time wouldn’t exactly suit his lifestyle. He needed to pin it on someone else. He didn’t have any particular animosity toward Matt Harstead, he was just the perfect person to frame. It made sense.
Now he sits in his basement, staring at the box of mementos from each of his murders. Mementos he never meant to keep, but now he’s glad he did. He hates that he had to get rid of their cell phones, but knew they were needed to properly frame Matt and assure there were no loose ends. Now Quinn can suffer as she should. Her brother is a killer and took his own life in shame. Her writing inspired his crimes. If all goes as planned, she may never write another book for as long as she lives.
Ryan keeps opening his phone to check for a text from Heather, confirming Matt has died. Or, even better, Matt lives but he’s a vegetable that can’t think or talk. That would give Quinn Harstead sufficient suffering.
Ryan continues fidgeting with the engagement ring meant for Matt’s girlfriend. It’s small and sad and Ryan knows Matt probably should have asked his sister for money so he could buy a proper ring. What a pathetic man.
Ryan hears a commotion upstairs and assumes Julie has invited over a few of her insufferable friends. That idea changes when he hears male voices. He stands in confusion as the basement door flies open and a fleet of officers storm the room.
“Ryan Matthews, you are under arrest for the murders of Susan Grant, Dottie Carlson, Kent Savard, and the attempted murder of Matthew Harstead,” one of the officers shouts, body slamming Ryan on the ground and handcuffing him behind his back.
As he is led up the stairs, he passes Julie, who is holding a crying Evie and grasping Hunter’s tiny toddler hand.
“Call my dad,” he says calmly, and she nods.
“Ma’am, you’re going to have to take the kids and find somewhere to stay for the next day or two while we search the house.”
“Of course, officer,” she responds, wiping a tear from her cheek and shushing Evie as she bounces her on her hip.
As the officers leave, she watches them load Ryan in the back of the police car. He makes eye contact with her and gives her a brief wink. She nods in response. She takes out her phone to shoot Heather a quick text; she’s going to need to drop Evie off, and she’ll explain when she gets there.
Julie then walks upstairs to their massive master bedroom and pulls a packed duffle bag from beneath the California King-sized bed they share. She smiles to herself as she considers how much better they’ve gotten at preparation since college when they were young, inexperienced, and made reckless mistakes. She knew she’d have to pack for a night or two away if either of them made a mistake big enough to get caught. Lucky for her, it was Ryan who got caught first.