Chelsea’s hands trembled once as she reread the message and took another good look at Alice’s photo. She allowed herself one shiver before she steeled her jaw. Never had she experienced the cold determination that descended over her. All at once, she knew what she had to do. A sense of purpose spread through her veins, washing away any trace of fear or doubt. She would save this woman. She was going to save Alice. She would face Aideen and bring her down.
All these thoughts ran through her mind in seconds as she dashed into the bedroom, pulled on her jeans and a sweater. She hesitated but decided to tuck the gun Evan had given her into the small of her back. This wasn’t something Aideen could trace with her computer skills, and if Chelsea stood a chance, she would need the gun. She was sure Aideen was armed too—Christ alone knew with what.
As she rushed to the front door and pulled on her coat, her mind worked frantically. She grabbed her purse and dug out her car keys. What else could she take? She didn’t dare take her phone because Aideen might track it somehow through its GPS function.
Should she call Evan? Aideen might track that too. She could have spoofed her phone and followed her calls. Chelsea suspected Aideen was itching for a reason to kill Alice and damned if she was going to give her one.
Besides, she wouldn’t place Evan in danger. She had to do this alone to regain her self-confidence. Until recently, Aideen had been just a distant memory, one in a million. Now, she had become her nemesis, one Chelsea had to face and defeat once and for all.
She inserted the code to disable the alarm, went out, and closed the door behind her, listening as it clicked shut. She ran down the stairs, thanking God her car was here. She’d insisted on bringing it in case she had to go out when Evan was not at home. Hopefully, it would be a life-saving decision.
Starting the engine, she mentally traced the fastest route to Glasnevin Cemetery. Time was short—too short. What if she didn’t make the deadline and arrived only to find Alice dead? No. Aideen would wait for her. If she knew anything about psychopaths, she knew that Aideen would want her to watch while she killed Alice. And Chelsea was not going to let that happen.
She took a right turn, doing her best to respect the speed limit. The last thing she needed was to be stopped for speeding. The roads were slick with the rain that continued to fall, reducing the visibility and making everything blurry. The windshield wipers could barely keep up. Absurdly perhaps, Chelsea thought it was as though the skies were crying in anticipation of her confrontation with Aideen. Was this a weeping of sorrow or a promise of triumph? Who would win on this freezing November night? Her? Her enemy? Would she be Aideen’s last victim? Was she going to die next to her mother’s grave?
“No fucking way.”
She looked at her watch for the umpteenth time. Twenty-seven minutes had passed. Thirty-three left. She was going to make it. If only she’d had more time to find a strategic way to approach this, to plan. Aideen wasn’t foolish enough to give her that opportunity.
She conjured up the topography of the cemetery. It was a place she knew all too well, but so did Aideen. They’d spent plenty of time there together. If only she had known then where that destructive friendship was going to lead…
Chelsea shook off her sorrow. It wasn’t doing any good, and neither was the thought of Aideen desecrating her mother’s grave. Chelsea hadn’t been there in several weeks, but she knew the grounds. There were trees everywhere, which would give her an advantage. She knew where Aideen was, unlike Aideen, who didn’t know from which direction Chelsea would come. It was a slight advantage, but still an advantage.
The cemetery gates appeared in her range of vision. She looked at her watch. She had seventeen minutes left. The barrier that gave access to the parking lot at the entrance was down. Chelsea cut the engine and rushed out of the car, careful to keep quiet and not to slam the door. She was grateful for the late hour and terrible weather. At least no one else was around to become a collateral victim.
The rain was vicious, lashing at her face, beating down on her scalp, making her vision swim. Her breath huffed in rhythmic clouds as her strides turned into a jog. Instead of heading to the main pathway, she took a side route and decided to walk along the surrounding stone wall. This was no easy job because the wall, bordered by thick vegetation, was built on an incline with a steep downward angle. Rainwater had gathered in the trench. As she made her way through the thick brush and trees, Chelsea felt the icy water creep up and reach her ankles. It was painfully cold. Her feet stuck in mud every few steps. Stray branches scratched her face and hands, which she held up protectively like a boxer. She was grateful for the rain, though. The sound of it on the cement lanes and marble headstones covered any sound of her approach.
She had five minutes left when she estimated she was somewhat parallel to her mother’s grave. Cautiously, she stopped and looked up at the wall, sleek with rain. It wasn’t very high, but to her, it looked huge. How would she climb that wall? Had she made a mistake that was going to cost at least one life?
“Goddammit!”
Panting, she looked around, knowing it was useless. She could see nothing but darkness. Getting on her knees, she began to search for a rock, a fallen log, something she could use to give herself a lift. There was nothing. Desperate, she put her hands against the wall and felt her way up. She almost gave a cry of joy when she felt a small crack in the stone barrier. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for her to place her foot into and give herself a boost. She had a nanosecond to coordinate her frozen limbs to make the jump and grab the edge of the wall while fumbling wildly to find the tiny crack and plant her foot in it. Pulling herself up required a herculean effort, but adrenalin was doing a lot of the heavy lifting right now. Suddenly, she was over the wall and landing with a quiet splash in the mud on the other side.
She stared around at the dozens of tombstones. There were soft nightlights scattered here and there, giving this realm of spirits a surreal quality. While they helped her orient herself, they also worked against her because now she wasn’t as inconspicuous as she’d wanted. She made her way forward among the graves, heading to the place where her mother was buried. She did her best to stay in the shadows and masked her steaming breath by pulling the neck of her sweater up to cover her mouth.
She squinted at her watch. Two minutes left. She was almost there. Stopping next to a majestic oak, she supported herself against the sturdy trunk. And as she peeked beyond it toward the approximate location of her mother’s grave, she saw a silhouette faintly outlined by dim light and splattering raindrops. Aideen.
Chelsea’s eyes narrowed involuntarily, her nostrils flaring. Finally, she had a chance to face this bitch who’d wormed her way into her life and made a mess of it while taking two others. It was payback time, for Shannon, for Jenny, for Alice… for herself.
Like a warrior before a battle, she fought to steady her breathing and gather her strength. An image of Evan flashed through her mind, smiling, his peaceful face resting on her breast. If God were watching tonight, He would help her get back to her lover—her love. She wanted to enjoy moments like that with Evan for the rest of her life. But first, she had business to finish.
Reaching under her wet coat, she felt the reassuring cold steel of the gun at the small of her back. After a moment’s thought, she grabbed it and moved it to her right hip, where it was concealed by her coat yet easily accessible. Then, she stepped out of the shadows.
As she drew closer, she saw Alice tied to the tombstone where words she’d memorized had been inscribed by people she didn’t know: Here rests Cassandra, beloved wife of Martin and loving mother of Chelsea. You will be dearly missed.
Aideen was pacing several steps away. The light of a tall, slim lamp fell across her, and Chelsea saw her from behind. She wore a black leather coat and thick boots. Her hair was soaked with rainwater, and she held a deadly-looking revolver in her right hand. Chelsea swallowed, wishing she had a Kevlar vest, wishing she’d practiced target shooting… Useless thoughts now. The best weapon she had was her brain—and she had to prevent Aideen from putting a bullet in it.
With a deep breath, she took another step forward.
“Hello, Aideen.”
She felt a wave of satisfaction as Aideen whirled around, startled, then took a step back. In a corner of her mind, Chelsea marveled that she wasn’t afraid when Aideen pointed the gun at her. She didn’t look at it; she just looked at Aideen’s face.
All at once, it was as if time stood still, and they were back in high school. She studied Aideen, just as the other woman studied her. Time had been kind to her old classmate. She hadn’t changed much, other than her dyed hair, rain-darkened and plastered against her head. There were only a few lines on her face, sadly none of them laughter lines. Usually, loneliness and bitterness left traces on one’s face, but Aideen could pass for a girl instead of a woman. She was still slim, no visible curves under her black clothes. But beyond the smooth skin, her face betrayed her. It was a mask of rage, and her eyes sparkled with hate and madness.
“Well, well, Miss Big-shot shrink finally figured it out,” Aideen said, revealing her teeth in a rictus of a smile.
Her voice sounded the same as Chelsea remembered, uneven and high-pitched like her mother’s. It was the voice of a teenager during puberty, oscillating between ups and downs related to hormonal changes. Chelsea wondered what processes had gone on in Aideen’s mind to keep her from moving on from that stage in life.
Her heart constricted as she looked down into Alice’s terrified face. Blood was running from her temple, tears streamed down her cheeks, and she seemed to have difficulty breathing. She looked imploringly at Chelsea, her eyes wide and terrified.
“Let her go,” Chelsea told Aideen, hitching her chin toward Alice. “This is between you and me now. You don’t need her anymore.”
Aideen gave a short laugh. “Let her go? Not a chance. I have big plans for her.”
“At least take the duct tape off her mouth. Her nose is stuffy with tears; she can’t breathe!”
Chelsea strained not to kneel beside the wounded young woman and tear off the duct tape herself, but she knew if she made a single move, both she and Alice would be dead.
Aideen glanced down at Alice, then shrugged. “She’s fine. It won’t matter anyway. I’m not stupid, Doctor Campbell. Do ye think I’d free her mouth so she can scream her head off and ruin our little party?”
Chelsea clenched her teeth, afraid to insist any longer. Anything could trigger Aideen and push her to the edge. Hell, they were all on edge. She gave Alice a hang-in-there look, then focused all of her attention on Aideen.
“People don’t bring guns to parties—at least none I’ve been to,” she said, keeping her tone calm.
“Really? Didn’t your boyfriend have his gun at that Halloween party you went to last week?”
“You were there?”
Aideen chuckled. “I’m always there. I know everything about you, Chelsea. And about him. I made it a point to kill that bitch right there, so you and he would find her. The first body was a coincidence, but after I realized where things were going between you, I thought I’d have some fun.” She giggled. “He’s just as fucked up in the head as you are. A burned-out cop who’s still grieving his parents and couldn’t deal with tough cases anymore. He’s a criminal, you know,” she said tauntingly. “You were supposed to wonder if he was the killer after getting those emails about his past.”
“I never thought that. Why did you do this, Aideen? Why did you kill those poor women? Why do you want to destroy me?”
“Because you stopped being my friend!”
Her shout reverberated around the tombstones. Tears tracked down her cheeks along with raindrops, making her look like an anime character. Her face was contorted as though she was in unbearable pain.
Everything seemed surreal—the situation, the setting, Aideen… Chelsea did her best not to stare at the barrel of the gun or acknowledge the trigger-happy grip Aideen had on it.
“Because of you, everyone hated me,” Aideen said, her voice lowering. “High school was fun until you dumped me like trash.”
“You betrayed me,” Chelsea reminded her and then quickly sidetracked as the killer’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe I shouldn’t have stopped talking to you, but I was only a kid, Aideen. I didn’t know right from wrong; to me, everything was either black or white back then. Hell, you should’ve tried to talk to me, to tell me how you felt—”
“To what end? It wouldn’t have made a difference. You always thought you were better than me.”
“That’s not true.”
“Yes, it is!” Aideen couldn’t control her voice anymore. “That day changed my life, you fucking bitch! I had to move to another high school because no one would talk to me anymore. You ruined my life, my self-confidence, took away my friends, while you moved on and became a fucking star, an award-winning psychologist. Did they know that your mom was crazy? The people who gave you that award? Did they know you’re a fraud and always tried to hide the fact that she killed herself?”
“That’s not true,” Chelsea said through gritted teeth. “I didn’t try to hide it, but I sure as hell didn’t advertise it. You took care of that when we were in high school, remember? Remember all the lies you used to say about me? And now you’re trying to say I’ve ruined your life?”
“You did! You always treated me like your shadow. No one saw me because of you. You were always the pretty one, and all the boys were interested in you, never in me. You always blocked me from everyone else’s view. You made me invisible to everyone else. Now I’m going to make you invisible, just like I did with the other shallow, self-centered bitches. How did their beauty serve them? They’re rotting in the ground, just like you will be soon.”
She raised the gun and pointed it straight at Chelsea’s chest.
Chelsea was still stunned by the twisted way Aideen had reasoned everything in her mind. Now she was out of time. She could have gone for her gun, but she’d be dead before she could fumble it from her waistband. If she turned and ran, Aideen would shoot her in the back. There was no escape. This was it. She couldn’t reach her weapon. Unless…
“You’re a coward, Aideen.”
Even Chelsea was surprised at how cold and calm her voice sounded.
So was Aideen. “What?”
“You heard me. You think shooting me will give you back your self-confidence? Aye, that’s brave. Keep your distance and use a gun built by someone else to destroy your enemy. Fucking heroic.” She scoffed, then leaned forward, her tone a taunting whisper. “You’ll never be rid of me unless you take me down fairly. If you have a trace of bollocks under that silly coat, put that gun away and face me with a bit of courage. Or are ye still the same chickenshit you were in school? You were afraid of me then, and you’re still afraid of me now, cladhaire.”
Jackpot! She’d bluffed, she’d gambled, but she had nothing to lose. Chelsea saw the moment her words struck home, and her jaw tightened in triumph. In her own way, Aideen had a huge ego, and it wasn’t going to let her turn away from the challenge Chelsea had issued.
The battle gleam in her eyes matched Chelsea’s as she tossed the gun aside. In her peripheral vision, Chelsea saw the gun was fairly close to Alice, and she prayed the girl was resourceful enough to find a way to get to it. Until then, she focused on this fight, tossing aside her own jacket and gun. Ever since she’d learned Aideen was the killer and her stalker, Chelsea had been itching for this moment. She respected Aideen now for giving her the pleasure of kicking her ass.
She took a step forward, her foot slushing in the sticky mud. She sensed Aideen was about to take a step back, but her opponent caught herself in time and stood her ground. Chelsea was glad her enemy wasn’t going to make this easy.
“What’s wrong, bitch? Afraid to get any closer?” Chelsea taunted.
With an ear-piercing scream, Aideen charged her, her hands like claws directed straight at Chelsea’s eyes.
“You fucking cunt! I’ll kill you!”
Chelsea dodged, raising her forearms to defend herself. She was surprised by how much strength there was behind the other woman’s madness, and in a masochistic way, she thrilled in it. Unlike Aideen, she didn’t fight like a girl. Hands clenched, she swung her fist toward Aideen’s head, catching her over the cheekbone. Aideen howled in pain and fell back against the trunk of a tree, holding her face. Chelsea’s hand was throbbing, but she wasn’t done.
She launched herself at Aideen. Her enemy was recovering and kicked her hard in the stomach. Chelsea hadn’t anticipated the blow. If she wasn’t fighting for her life and Alice’s, she might have crumpled to the wet ground and vomited. But she couldn’t afford to do that. She half-collapsed, half threw herself at Aideen, pommeling her with her fists. She struck randomly, blinded by rain, by rage, probably by blood from the scratches Aideen had inflicted on her face. There was an animalistic pleasure in feeling her enemy’s bones crack under her knuckles, hearing her whimpers, sensing her opponent weaken with every blow.
“Chelsea, stop! You’ll kill her!”
She heard Evan’s voice coming from far away, but she ignored it. So what if she killed her? Images of Shannon, Jenny, and Alice swam through her head. Aideen deserved to die. No punishment the law could provide would be enough.
When strong hands grabbed her from behind, she fought to kick her way back to her enemy, to finish her off, to destroy the monster forever. But Evan’s voice was soft in her ear, dragging her back to him, back to sanity.
“Stop it, baby. It’s over. Stop. Just lean on me.”
Her lungs felt about to explode as she took breath after ragged breath. Her nose was probably broken because she couldn’t breathe. She just took big gulps of cold air, fighting to clear her head. Evan still held her tightly, her back nestled against his large, solid chest.
She watched as two Gardaí cuffed Aideen and dragged her up. She didn’t resist. On the contrary, she seemed glad they were taking her away. As she stared at Chelsea through bloodshot eyes, blood trickled down her face, washed out by the rain that fell incessantly. Her eyes were dull now, all traces of hatred and madness gone—a misguided little girl who’d lost her way. If she hadn’t seen her handy work, if she hadn’t seen the bodies of the two women and spoken to their families, Chelsea would have felt sorry for Aideen. But she knew that behind that innocent exterior lurked a monster. And it would have struck again if Chelsea hadn’t stopped it.
It wasn’t Chelsea’s fault, as Aideen had justified it in her mind. It was her parents’ fault for not acknowledging their daughter’s problems and getting her help. It was society’s fault for not putting up a red flag when they observed abnormal behavior. Social media bore the guilt as well, as did the dating website that didn’t screen its users well enough. The list could go on, but Chelsea was too tired to think about it. The adrenaline was wearing off, and her body felt like a well-used piñata. She saw Alice sitting by, assisted by a Garda who’d untied her and wrapped her in a blanket. Police lights flashed somewhere in the distance, unable to get closer through the labyrinth of graves and trees.
Chelsea squeezed Evan’s hand, then looked up at him, not wanting to imagine how she looked.
“Is Alice okay?” she asked.
“She’ll be fine; she’s just scared. You saved her life.”
“Yeah.” Chelsea shoved he wet hair away from her face. “How did you find me?”
“I went home to look for you and read the email O’Banion sent you. Why the hell didn’t you call me?”
Chelsea swallowed, sensing the taste of blood in her mouth. She’d bitten her tongue. As she moved it gently over her teeth, she was grateful none was missing or loose. Aideen had fought like a wildcat.
“I couldn’t call you; I was afraid she was monitoring my phone.”
“And you couldn’t find a way to let me know? What were you thinking, coming here alone?” Evan’s lips pressed together, and he clung to his self-control by a thread.
Chelsea shook her head. “I only had an hour. I made it with seconds to spare. There was nothing else I could do, Evan.” She looked up at him. “But I’m glad I came. I needed to confront her. I needed to beat the shit out of her.”
She was surprised by the passion in her words.
Evan couldn’t help a weak laugh. “And you did. I’m impressed. For a small woman, you pack a lot of crazy. If the situation wasn’t so drastic, it would have been sort of a turn-on.”
Chelsea started to laugh but stopped, wincing in pain when her split lip parted. “Kinky American.”
She lifted her face to his and allowed him to gently kiss her bloody lips. Then she drew away and asked him to wait for her a moment.
She was covered in mud from head to toe. Each step she took was a sticky, dragging battle, but she reached her mother’s grave and sank to her knees beside it. Tears flowed as she touched the gray, wet tombstone. She wondered what her mum would have thought of her. Would she have been proud? Disappointed? Chelsea had saved a life tonight—two if she counted her own. Not long ago, she hadn’t put that high a price on her own life, but now, looking over at Evan, she knew she valued it a lot more.
She traced the words on the headstone with the tips of her fingers, unmindful of her broken nails and bruised knuckles.
“I’m sorry, mum, but I’m not ready to join ye yet.”