Book sat in a chair at the conference table and Fine sat across from him. Lena, who was still unconscious, lay between them.
“Should I assume that there is no SWAT team waiting to burst in on your command?” Book asked.
“Just me, Carlton,” Fine replied. “Just little ol’ me.” The detective smirked. “The brass refused to shell out the greens for backup based on a slim hunch. Kept mentioning budgetary concerns and shit. Besides,” he added, flashing a thin smile, “I’ve got the gun.”
“How long have you known?” asked Book, his eyes dropping to the sleeping Lena.
Fine sniffed. “Since you dressed up as the janitor and mopped my hallway,” replied the detective. “Cute touch. You picked a name of an accountant.”
“de Cervantes was a tax collector, actually,” Book said.
“Whatever,” Fine said with a shrug. “I noticed a spot on the back of your neck without makeup and figured it had to be you. Good job on the hall, by the way.”
“Thanks,” said Book dryly. “And you played along when I came in as Scarborough?”
Fine nodded. “Ballsy move!” he said with a grin. “You got titanium ones the size of New Jersey dividers, brother! I will admit I thought you were the real deal at first, then I knew it was you.”
“How?” asked Book.
“Your only mistake,” replied Fine. “You came to me directly, versus clear it through the Commish’s office. Procedure. So I figured since you didn’t find out if you were on that video or not when you played mop-boy, you took a chance and moved it up to the next level. Very legit looking paperwork, by the way. Your handiwork?”
“Am I?” asked Book, ignoring the question.
“What? The video? Yes and no,” said the detective. “Yes, you’re on it, but because of the poor lighting, and because Mrs. K used the same tape over and over again, its quality degraded. We couldn’t make out your face and the facial rec program couldn’t make a hit. There’s nothing to connect you to Kostakis. But before we leave tonight, you’ll be giving me a full confession.”
“Maybe you’re not hearing me,” Book said. “I didn’t kill Kostakis. Or any of the Killer’s victims. But I know who did.” Book’s eyes bore into the detective’s. “And so do you.”
Fine’s mouth twisted in a smirk. “Oh, this ought to be good,” he said. “Go ahead. Enlighten me.”
“Frank Costa,” said Book.
Fine stared at Book for several seconds before laughing heartily.
“Frank?” he said. “You want me to believe Frank Costa is the 3-Monkey Killer?”
“I have proof,” Book said.
“Oh do you now?” Fine replied.
Doubt flashed in Book’s eyes. It lasted less than a millisecond but the detective caught it none the less and smiled.
“I can’t put the weapon in his hand,” said Book. “And it could be looked at as circumstantial evidence, but Costa had an abusive childhood and his father’s repeated beatings killed his mother. It’s very possible that he killed his own father. He’s been written up several times for being too aggressive, and those cases involved abused women and children. When his wife walked out and took the kids, that set him off and he became the 3-Monkey Killer. Remember, it was Costa that came to you with the victim’s true background.”
Fine looked at the accountant and nodded. “If Frank was 3-Monkey, why would he bring me the information?” Fine asked.
“I don’t know,” Book said. “Maybe he was showing off; playing with you. A game of superiority. Saying, ‘I’m standing right in front of you and you still can’t catch me’. Or he wanted you; someone he respected to see the types of people the 3-Monkey was killing, hoping you’d be okay with it.”
Fine smiled and nodded to Book. “Bravissimo!” he exclaimed. He raised his weapon an inch and returned it to Book’s chest. “I’d applaud your analysis, but y’know.” Fine leaned forward. “You put a lot of work into this, and for that you have my respect. And please don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re a fucking accountant! Not a cop. Not a shrink. A fucking number cruncher!”
“But what ab ... “ Book began.
“Frank Costa has had a lot of bad breaks,” Fine said, his tone iron. “And the poor bastard has always fought each one and came out on top! Daphne taking the kids was wrong. Flat out fucked up. But that doesn’t make him a serial killer!”
“Does papering his walls with files and photos from the 3-Monkey case seem sane to you?” Book snapped.
Desmond Fine’s eyes widened, then narrowed and darkened. “You went in Frank’s house?” he whispered.
“It covers the ent ... “
“You went in Frank’s house?” he repeated.
Book felt the room go suddenly cold. “Yes,” he said.
Fine stared at Book for what seemed like an eternity.
“During our days in the police academy,” Fine began slowly, “We had a drill who taught us that the only way to solve a case is to get inside it. And the only way to do that would be to make the case the first thing you see when you wake up and the last thing you see when you go to sleep.” He swallowed. “Obviously you’ve never been to my home or else you would have seen the same thing.”
Book’s jaw dropped open as a thought filled his head.
“Yes!” grinned Fine mirthlessly, and rolling his eyes. “I am the 3-Monkey Killer! I fooled you all along! And if you don’t stop me, I will kill again!” The detective’s face went flat. “Asshole,” he said.
“I’m not the 3-Monkey Killer!” Book said.
Fine sniffed and shook his head. “I’ve been trying to help you catch him!” Book said. “Can’t you see that?”
“I see a friggin’ psychopath who knew I was close to catching him,” said Fine. “Who’s desperate enough to pull a stunt this ballsy, feed me total bullshit to point me in a different direction, and dig deep into Frank’s past to find an alib ... “ A thought crossed the detective’s face. “Frank’s past,” he hissed. “That’s your reasonable doubt.”
“I’m not ... “said Book.
“You ever wonder why your Glock is still out in the open?” Fine asked suddenly.
Book looked down. It was there all along, still next to Lena’s hip, but it was the first time he noticed his gun. He looked back up at Fine.
“Because I’m hoping that you’ll resist arrest and I can shoot your sorry ass,” the detective said. “After all the heinous shit you pulled and the people you’ve killed, now you’re talking about setting up my best friend? Buddy, I really, really hope you’re going to go for the gun.”
“I’m not touching the gun,” said Book. “And I am not the 3-Monkey Killer.”
“Then explain to me how would an accountant have the connections to falsify official documents, obtain classified departmental information, or know anything about makeup and disguise?” asked the detective.
Book stared at Fine then looked down at Lena Truman. Her eyes were still shut and he remembered how much he loved her eyes.
Got to get you out of here , he thought.
Book looked back at the detective.
“What about her?’ he asked.
“What about her?” Fine replied. “She’s still sleeping the sleep of the innocent.”
“Isn’t your job to protect and to serve?” Book asked.
The detective’s eyes hardened. “Don’t you even think to presume what my job is,” he warned.
“Get her out of here!” Book pleaded. “Do me this one favor.”
“How about this?” asked Fine glancing down at Lena, a dark smirk pulling at his lips. “You confess to the murder of Kostakis and all the others, I cuff you to the table and I call the medics?”
“Don’t use her like this!” Book exclaimed. He ran his fingers through his dyed hair. “Look, this is between you and me,” he said. “Can’t we take a break; call a temporary truce or something so we can get Lena away from here? Maybe put her in the office down the hall?”
Fine stared at him.
“Please!” said Book. “I’m begging you. Get her to safety.”
“Why?” asked Fine. “You planning on going for the gun and you don’t want the lady to get caught in the cross ... “
“You’re not listening!” Book exclaimed pushing back further from the table and the gun. “Here! Take it. I’ll sit right here. I won’t move a muscle. Just get her out of here! Please.”
Fine frowned and lowered his eyes to Lena Truman on the table between them. He sat up in his chair and looked Book directly in the eyes. “You love her,” he said mystified. “You really love her.” The detective’s eyes did not leave Book’s. His frown deepened. “The makeup,” he said. “The disguises. The false ID. Everything! You’re not who you say you are, are you?” he asked slowly. “You’re not an accountant. You’re something more.” Fine eyes lit with a thought. ”You’re trying to cover up something other than the Kostakis murder.”
Book swallowed.
The color in Fine’s face suddenly drained and filled with uncertainty. He looked down at Lena’s tranquil face.
“You’d never hurt her,” he said in a hollow tone more to himself than to Book.
“I love her,” Book said in a pleading voice.
“No matter how desperate you are, you’d never hurt her,” Fine muttered, either ignoring or not hearing the accountant’s declaration. He looked up at Book. “If you’re not 3-Monkey, then who trashed her apartment, roughed her up and brought her here?”
There was a blur and an explosion. Book, whose eyes had automatically squinted shut from the sound of the blast, opened them and looked down the barrel of his Glock. On the other side of the weapon was Lena Truman. She held the gun in two hands, partially because of the binding strip around her wrists. Behind her wearing a surprised expression was Desmond Fine, blood spurting from the hole in his throat. The .45 dropped to the table as his hands lifted to his neck to apply pressure to the open wound. He made several gasping/croaking sounds and his hands dropped weakly to his lap.
“I love you too,” Lena said.
Carlton Book had stopped breathing. There was a small chuckle building in his chest, but not one associated with humor. It was born of shock and a mounting hysteria.
Part of his mind screamed in protest (No! It can’t be her! Not her!), while another part viewed his inner spreadsheet, realizing that the error in his calculation was due to the one variable he did not foresee.
Tears came to his eyes and his chest filled with a heartbreaking loss. He saw Lena as the only pure and good thing in his life. She was untouched by the avarice and jealousy he saw in his clients. She was an oasis in a barren desert that was lined with bleached skeletons; order in his world of chaos.
Now she was an unknown variable he needed to understand. Book felt if he understood the problem, he could correct it. He could save her.
He could save them.
“Too close, don’t you think?” she asked. With feline grace she slid across the table using her legs, hips and the heels of her bunny slippers, still holding the weapon on Book. She went off the edge and sat in a chair. Across from her was Fine’s weapon.
“Lena?” he said.
“Yes, Carlton,” she said. “Me.”
“You’re the 3-Monkey Killer?” he asked.
She nodded.
“How ... how could you ... ?” Book stammered.
“How could I?’ she asked. “The same way you do it.”
Book’s eyes widened.
“Yes, Carlton,” she said. “I know all about your hits. That’s the proper word, isn’t it? Hits? I’ve known since before Kostakis.”
“Before?” he asked.
She nodded again. “Your ‘out of town’ clients,” she said. A guilty expression crossed her face. “I got a little jealous and thought you were fooling around. I followed you one night and watched you garrote this man.”
Book paled.
“It had to be fate, Carlton!” Lena exclaimed. “Following you was a sign telling me I was no longer alone! I always suspected that there was something special between us, but until that night, I could never put my finger on it. We have a bond that no one can break! It made me love you more than I already do!”
Book looked at Lena; into her.
“Kostakis,” Book said, “You set me up.”
“I saw you checking out Kostakis’ place and wondered what you were up to,” she said leaning back in her seat. “I didn’t know if he was one of your clients, or one of your hits.”
A hardness crept into her eyes. Book tried to recall if it had always been there.
“Or if you were going to try to stop me,” she said. “I didn’t know. To cover my bases, I took him out earlier than planned and switched on the camera before you came in. If the video was clearer, everyone would think you were the 3-Monkey Killer. You would be arrested and I could continue my mission. It would be a huge sacrifice to lose you, but you know what I’m doing is bigger than both of us.”
Book remained silent, staring at Lena.
She leaned forward in the chair and rested her elbows on the edge of the table, the gun’s sight still aimed at Book’s chest. “And because of the importance of the mission, I had to test you,” she said. She smiled, a light filling her eyes. “And you passed! You don’t know how happy I was that you passed!”
“Test?” Book repeated.
“You’re imaginative. You’re pretty good with the makeup and wigs; better than me, I must admit. You’re good at what you do. We’d be perfect together.” She sat back in her chair, her face hard. Serious. “Carlton,” she said. “I want to make you a proposition.”
“What kind of proposition?” asked Book.
Fine inhaled sharply and his body shook once as he died. A thin tear ran down Lena’s cheek and she sighed sadly in her chest.
“There was this woman,” she began. “She was repeatedly beaten and sexually abused by her boyfriend. And when she was near-crippled, the boyfriend started on her five-year old daughter. Out of desperation, she went to this other lowlife for support who convinced her to press charges. And you know what happened to the boyfriend? He walked. The mother-fucker walked. How? Because he had a good lawyer who made the jury believe that she was okay with it. He brought up her past affairs, her drug and alcohol abuse and said that it was consensual; that she liked it rough and that she knew what he was doing to her daughter. The guy she went to had a record, one of which was attempted rape. Back-story: he was having sex with a sixteen-year old while he was seeing other women. The girl found out, had a ‘hell hath no fury’ moment and called it rape. He was arrested for having sex with a minor. Eventually the charges were dropped. But because it was on his record, the jury saw him as a sexual predator and he was convicted of abusing the little girl. The woman was deemed an unfit mother, child services put the baby into that wasteland we lovingly call ‘the system’, and the scumbag boyfriend left town to build a new life.”
Book saw a fire burning in Lena’s eyes; one that bordered on insanity.
“The woman tried for years to clear her name and to get her child back,” continued Lena. “She got a good job, stayed off the booze and drugs and made a home for her and her daughter. Then she found that her daughter, who was going on nine at the time, had been placed in a home where she was sexually abused by the foster dad.” Lena swallowed, his eyes filling with tears. “She went to the police. They checked her background and immediately dismissed her. Only one of them listened to her.”
She leaned back in his seat and stared at something only she could see. “Detective Fine was the only one to believe her,” she said softly. “By the time he received the authorization to raid the house, it was too late; the little girl was dead,” Lena said. “Raped with a screwdriver. She bled out. Child Services had received reports of something wrong going on in that house, but because of their backlog of cases, they did not follow up on a regular basis. And when they did, they called and told the son of a bitch they were coming. It gave him time to tidy up the place and make things look ... normal.” A brief bitter smile crossed her face. “Detective Fine shot the foster father who had repeatedly raped and murdered the girl. Five times. Because it looked like overkill, Internal Affairs checked it out. They found the foster dad was hopped up on PCP and had come at him with a knife. They called it a righteous kill. But I know better.” She shook her head. “He had to tell the woman that her little girl would never be coming home, but there was some form of justice served.” Lena swallowed. “The woman hung herself in the room she made for her daughter.”
Lena’s eyes refocused on Book’s face. She saw that he had tears in his eyes, feeling exactly what she felt. It made her love him more than she already did.
“The woman; Diane, was my younger sister,” she said. “Diane lived day to day in silence while being beaten and raped. Never telling anyone about it, coming up with lame excuses for her injuries, afraid of talking about what this piece of shit was doing to her and my niece, and taking the blame for it all. She was dead; they were dead while this son of a bitch was hanging out, drinking and having a good old time.” Lena’s smile changed to a feral grin. “I followed him,” she said. “He was going under an assumed name and was living the good life. I confronted him and he laughed at me. Laughed. He said since they arrested the other guy, he could never be convicted of any crime. That was the day the 3-Monkey Killer was born.”
Book used the heel of his hand to wipe the tears from his eyes.
“I realized that there were others who needed the justice the system wasn’t giving them,” she said. “Before I got the job here, I did social work at shelters and found it to be more of the same. Abusers with high-priced lawyers. Bastards getting off on technicalities. And I watched good cops like Fine being beaten down by the system. Ones who’d falsify their testimony for a few bucks or favors, because they knew these creeps would be out on the streets in a few hours.” Lena Truman’s face was a mask of torment. “Carlton!” she exclaimed. “Someone had to do something!”
Book stared back at Lena and nodded once.
“Which brings us here today,” she said returning to calm. Lena looked deeply in Book’s eyes. “My proposition. I want you to work with me.”
“Why Parnell?” Book asked.
She smiled slightly, not surprised in the least by his question. “Same as Magic, Carlton; a favor,” she replied. “Abby deserved a second chance.” Lena’s eyes went hard and faraway. “She deserves a lot of chances,” she muttered. “I followed Fine one evening and saw him pick up Abby. I watched him with her and saw his concern; his kindness. He probably felt that getting her a job was the only justice he could give to her. But he didn’t give her freedom. Magic would have found her and put her back on the street. So as a favor to her; to him, I took care of Magic.” The muscles in her face relaxed and her eyes returned to Book. “As for Parnell, I know the thought of taking him out crossed your mind at least once. And we both know if you did it, with your comings and goings, you would be a suspect.”
Book swallowed. Because of me, his mind thought.
He buried his feelings for a moment and saw the spreadsheet he had devised for when he met the 3-Monkey Killer. The numbers that would normally fill each cell were replaced by actions and emotional triggers; each to move forward to its sum. Understanding that he was not dealing with a rational entity, Book came to several different possibilities on how this would end. Some he walked away from; others he didn’t.
He mentally erased certain parts of his calculations and entered ones containing his knowledge of Lena Truman. His eyes rested on her face and he felt his heart break even further. He pushed the pain aside and saw that there were several unknown variables that prevented him from forming a conclusion. He needed more data.
“Why me?” he asked finally.
“Who else could it be?” she asked. “You and I are doing the same thing, Carlton! We’re giving needed justice to people who are forced to live with their pain! We’re giving them closure! This is what we were meant for! Can’t you see that?”
“I see a troubled soul,” said Book softly. “I see someone who witnessed her sister and niece’s abuse and could do nothing. I see a woman who saw the abused suffering in silence; in pain and longing for justice. But we’re not doing the same thing, Lena. I was doing it for money, not payback.”
“Don’t you think I know that, Carlton?” Lena asked. “Work with me and I’ll give you a purpose; a reason!” She licked her lips. “You understand! You’re the only one who does!”
Book’s jaw tightened and he glared at Lena. “I do understand, sweetheart,” he said. “But I don’t understand your need to test me.”
Lena lowered her eyes slightly and nodded. “And for that I deeply apologize,” she said. “I needed to, Carlton. I had to see if we ... “ She stopped and frowned. “Carlton,” she said softly. “I love you with all my heart and soul. I’ve always believed that. I’ve never doubted that. But I had to see if I could trust you on this.” She chuckled sadly. “You have to admit that this part of our lives is not your average couple issue.” The smile softened and she looked deep into his eyes. “Carlton, you showed me how much you loved me by joining forces with the only person who could take you down. You risked everything for me! I could never have a better man or a better partner in my life!”
“The kidnapping thing was well staged,” Book said with an edge to his voice.
“I had to!” Lena said. “I had to see what you’d do!” She smirked and lifted her eyes upwards towards the bruise. “And you have no idea how much running into a wall hurts!” she said. “Should there be a next time, remind me to use less chloroform. I almost passed out.”
“Use less chloroform,” Book said flatly.
She smiled a smile he recognized. For a brief second he saw the Lena he knew (remembered, his mind corrected); having dinner, talking, sleeping next to him. Not a monster who butchered people.
There’s a reason , his mind whispered. You find the reason, you complete the formula; you make the correction.
“Carlton,” she said. “You know how much I love you!”
“Enough to plant evidence to incriminate me,” he said flatly.
“Insurance,” she replied sadly. “I took the hairs from your comb and brush just in case you turned against me.”
“You videotaped me!” he barked.
“But they can’t make you out!” Lena replied. “You heard the detective!”
“And if it did, what would you have done?” asked Book. “If the tape showed my face clearly, what would you have done? Break into police headquarters like Rambo and blow everyone away until you got the tape? Or would you have just gone on your merry way and allow your murders to be pinned on me, then sit back and wait for the police to uncover my own? Would you be at my trial? Would you be there for my execution?”
Lena’s expression was sad, but hard. “But none of that happened!” she said.
Book felt his insides deflate. “It doesn’t matter,” he said softly. “The point is you did!”
Lena’s eyes turned cold. “The point is the mission is bigger than both of us,” she said. “You know that.”
No other way , he thought. God forgive me, there’s no other way.
Book leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs placing his ankle on his knee. “Is it, Lena?” Book asked, boring his eyes into hers. “You have someone who loves you. Someone who is willing to risk everything for you. To give his life for you. And despite that; despite everything, you take steps that would put a needle in my arm.”
“It’s not like that!” she exclaimed.
“It is like that!” Book snapped. “This mission; this vendetta has consumed you! So much so you cannot see what’s right in front of you or what you’re doing. All you see is a partner that will help put more bodies in the ground.”
The room turned quiet. Lena’s face looked miserable as every thought flew through it. “What does it feel like to you?” she asked.
Book stared at Lena for a beat. “You mean ... ?”
She nodded. “What do you feel when you do it?” she asked.
Book understood how he felt now. Part of him entertained thoughts of suicide but knew that his single death would never bring back the many lives he had taken. How did he feel then?
“Nothing,” he replied.
“Nothing?” she asked. “Not a thing?”
Book nodded. “It’s like deleting a figure on a spreadsheet,” he said. “No emotion. Just business.”
Lena nodded. Her eyes turned inward and a soft smile filled her face. Though her eyes stared off in the distance, the weapon did not waver in her hands. Her eyes filled with tears that ran slowly down her cheeks.
“Lena?” Book said softly.
“Yes?” she said.
“What do you feel?” he asked.
Lena’s eyes focused on Book’s. The light had returned.
“Peace,” she said.
Book looked at Lena; at the gun in her hands. He looked into her eyes and made the last entry on the mental spreadsheet. No! his mind cried. The voice was soft and came from a distance. You can’t do this. She’s not one of your contracts! This is Lena! She’s ...
Only a number , finished another voice; a stronger one.
Book cursed himself and adjusted his leg, bringing it up his thigh. “You have to stop, Lena,” he said. “You have to end this.”
“I love you,” she said, tears now flowing from her eyes.
“And I love you,” he replied. “But you have to stop.”
She shook her head. “What about the victims?” She shook her head again. “There are too many out there. There’s too much silence.”
“You want us to enact justice for everyone, Lena?” Book snapped. “How many is that? How many more killings? Does it ever end?” His index finger tapped against his lips. “Wait a second,” he said, his eyes narrowing. “How’s this sound? I get down on my knee and propose to you. I call all my friends and business acquaintances, you call your friends and the people from the office and we break the news. We have a huge engagement party, followed by a beautiful wedding, a great reception, with videos and photos to break out on anniversaries. When we’re old and gray, we can look at the pictures and reminisce about who we killed on our honeymoon. Because the mission. Never. Ends!” he said sourly. “What the hell kind of life is that, Lena?” Sadness filled every corner of his face. “What kind of life is that?”
Lena’s brow furrowed in thought.
There’s a chance , Book’s mind said hopefully. I’m getting through to her!
“Sweetheart,” Book said. “Listen to me. I’m giving it all up for you. For us! No more secrets. No more disguises. No more killing.” Tears filled his eyes. “Without your love, I know that I’d self-destruct with all those deaths on my conscience. But together; with you, I can last another day. I can move forward. We can move forward! Please, Lena. End this.”
Lena looked back at him. She sniffed and tossed her hair back from her face. She looked at Book and smiled sadly. “The greater good,” she said softly.
“Excuse me?” asked Book.
“The greater good,” Lena repeated softly. “What we have to do; the mission, it’s too important. And I understand now.” Her smile widened and became sadder. “People like us, Carlton; even the good detective here, we can’t have love in our lives. Not while we have an important task to perform. There’s no room.” Her face became hard. “There’s no fucking room for anything else.”
“What are you saying, Lena?” Book asked slowly.
“There’s so many out there, Carlton!” exclaimed Lena. “So many suffering! So many in pain! They need us! They need us to be strong. Stronger than they are. Strong enough to do what’s right for them! And I know you, darling! You’re strong, just like me. You can do this! With me! I know you can! Tell me; tell yourself you can do this and we can be together!”
Book stared at Lena across the long table in the conference room and used his left hand to wipe a tear from his eye. The only sound he heard was Lena’s breathing and his thudding heartbeat.
“I love you, Carlton,” Lena said finally.
Just a number .
Book felt his insides shatter and crumble into dust.
Bullshit .
“And more than anything in this world, Lena,” Book said, “I love you.”
Book slid the .38 from his ankle holster and fired all six rounds at Lena from under the table. Lena jumped as each bullet entered her, her mouth and eyes widening in shock. The Glock slipped from her grasp and landed on the carpeted floor. She stared at Book from across the table and slid from the chair, landing next to it.
Book reached across the table, grabbed the detective’s .45 and ran into the hall.
He ran forward and through the doorway to the room with the cubicles and stopping at a desk. He lifted the phone and tapped 9 to get an outside line, then dialed 911. He waited until the operator came on the line.
“Man down!” Book cried. “Detective Desmond Fine has been shot! The Boone, Fitzsimmons, and Parnell building!” Book slammed the phone down. He looked at the .45 that he placed next to the phone and lifted it, checking the magazine and seeing only two shots were fired. He flipped off the safety and returned to the conference room.
He slid along the wall, his weapon held out in front of him. His eyes looked past the room and down the hallway, past the offices of the owners and to the arched opening that held the reception area. A calm filled him. That was where everything balanced out. Where everything equaled and had no variance. Where he could walk in any day of the week, the month, the year and see Lena Truman behind the kidney shaped desk, smiling and answering incoming calls.
He stopped by the conference room’s doorframe. He was about to enter the room, spinning suddenly around the frame, but Book’s mind quickly ordered him to stop and listen.
The offices were silent. No movement at all; especially from the conference room.
He had calculated for this. Despite her multiple gunshot wounds, he had to assume that she was still alive. Book began a slow count of ten in his head, surmising that his silence and lack of entrance had either made Lena believe that he had left the building or was exactly where he was; outside the conference room. On ten he would come in low and fast around the door.
When Book reached eight, a warning voice in his head screamed DOWN! He dropped to his knee just as the spot where his head was blew outwards, leaving a very neat hole.
“You disappointed me, Carlton!” raged Lena from inside the room. “I gave you all my love; my trust and you disappointed me!”
“Lena!” Book called loudly. “What I’ve been doing is wrong. You helped me to understand that. I can’t do it anymore. I’m no longer that person. And I agree with you one-hundred and ten percent that the abusers must pay for what they did, but you need to rely on the system!”
“THE SYSTEM DOESN’T WORK!” screamed Lena.
Book moved as a second hole appeared in the wall, this time lower than the first. “Sweetheart, please!” said Book. “I know it doesn’t work all the time! It’s flawed. But there are ways you can ... “
“Oh, God!” Lena groaned from inside the conference room. “It hurts!”
Book shut his eyes tightly and saw the smiling face of Lena Truman looking up at him. It was a face filled with trust and the belief that he would never hurt her.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so goddamn sorry!” He listened and heard the muttering of tight, low curses. “But if I didn’t join your ... your quest, you would have killed me. You would have killed more.” He listened to the silence on the other side of the wall. “Lena!” he cried. “You’re seriously wounded! You’re bleeding out! It’s over! It’s done! Let it go!”
Book’s hand lifted without command, holding the weapon ready. “There’s still time, Sweetheart!” he said. “You’ve lost a lot of blood, but I can get you to someone who can patch you up. Please, Lena! Listen to me while there’s still time!”
At first there was silence. A silence that was louder than his beating heart. Then he heard the sound of sobbing coming from inside the room.
“You’re right, Carlton,” Lena said in a defeated tone. “It’s over.”
Book pulled himself up the wall to a standing position. “I’m coming in, Baby,” Book said. He waited for a response, but none was given. “You hear me?” he called. “I’m coming in!”
“Yes, Carlton; I heard you,” Lena replied softly. “Come in.”
Book peeked around the frame, then pulled back quickly, expecting a chuck of wall to explode by his head. When that didn’t happen, he cautiously moved around the doorway.
Propped up against the wall near the end of the conference table was Lena Truman. Everything below her sternum was soaked in blood and was turning the carpet beneath her dark. The Glock was still in her hands but both arms hung limply in front of her, still bound by the strip of plastic. Her legs were spread out in a V and Book could see darker holes below the waistband where the bullets hit. One of the bunny slippers was off and the other, still on her foot, was soaked red, its round plastic eyes staring straight ahead. Lena’s head was leaning to one side and her mouth was open, droplets of blood trickling down her chin.
Lying next to her on the floor was detective Desmond Fine. Book shook his head. Fine was a good cop and a good man who deserved better than this.
Book looked at them and felt a deep aching sadness.
“Lena honey, you’re a mess,” Book said as he walked in the room.
Lena chuckled and winced. “Yeah, I am,” she said.
“I’m sorry,” Book said.
“Me too,” she replied.
Lena’s arms suddenly lifted and she fired two shots from the Glock, striking Book in the midsection. Book cried out in pain and shock as he flew backwards into the doorframe.
As Book lifted the .45, Lena fired a third round that caught him in the upper right shoulder, making his arm useless. A fourth entered his chest.
As Book slid down the frame, he quickly moved the gun to his left hand and fired. The shot hit Lena in the upper chest, slamming her deeper into the wall she was propped against.
Book’s legs went out from under him and he landed hard, the gun dropping from his hand.
Lena’s breathing was ragged. Her hand twitched and released the weapon. It bounced from her thigh to the reddening floor. She stared across the room at Book.
“We should go together,” she whispered.
Book looked down and saw his open stomach and the blood draining from the wounds. He leaned his head back and rested it against the frame. From across the room he could feel Lena’s arms around his neck, her lips on his. He looked up at her and smiled.
“Yeah,” Book said. “Maybe we should.”
Lena coughed. She closed her eyes tight and shuddered as if struck by an icy breeze. She opened them slowly and smiled at him.
“You actually thought we were going to whack people on our honeymoon?” she asked.
Book tried to shrug and immediately regretted the attempt.
“I will admit,” Book said in a pained voice, “that was a bit much.” He chuckled and coughed. “ Whack? And you wonder why I am particular about the television I watch.” He coughed again and wiped the spittle away from his lips weakly with the back of his hand. His eyes glanced down and saw a line of blood on his shirt cuff. He raised his eyes to the woman he loved. “The emails; timed delivery, right?” he asked.
“I do it all the time for meetings,” she said. Lena smiled at him and her eyes began to roll in her head. She shook her head sharply and refocused on Book, her eyes looking wide and sunken. “You never told me,” Lena said, her voice growing weaker, “if you liked the DVD set.”
“You never asked,” he said.
“Asshole,” she grinned, her teeth coated with blood.
Book nodded. “It was great,” he said. “Thank you.”
“It’s a good series,” Lena said. She coughed and a clot of blood slid from her mouth and dripped down her chin.
“You made me think you were a guy,” Book said.
“That was your perception, love,” she replied with a smile. Her face then took on a melancholy expression. Tears formed in her eyes. “You know what I wish?” she asked.
“No, honey,” Book said trying to keep focused. “What do you wish?”
Lena coughed again and more blood poured from her mouth. “I wish we had more time,” she said smiling.
Lena coughed once and stopped breathing. The light and the life in her eyes slowly dimmed and faded. Her head tilted to one side.
Book looked at her. He felt very cold; very tired. “So do I,” he said finally. “More time would be ... nice.”
Book’s head leaned back on his shoulders and he found himself looking at the overhead lights. He squinted.
Looks brighter , he mused sourly.
Slowly, Book closed his eyes.