Marcus shifted his aim to the deputy, but the blow had rendered the man unconscious.
The sound of Maggie screaming was like a dagger of ice slicing deep into his core. He thought of the last thing she had said to him in the trunk. “If it comes down to it … I mean … with my father. He’s chosen his path. I guess what I’m trying to say is … do whatever you have to do.”
But he knew those were just words. The Sheriff was still her father, no matter what the man had done. She might understand. She might forgive him. But he knew deep down that whenever she looked at him from that day forward, she would see the man who had murdered her father.
Eventually, her wailing died down. With her cuffed hands pressed to her face, she sobbed quietly.
He sifted through the pouches on the unconscious deputy’s belt and found a pair of handcuff keys. He hoped that the cuffs Andrew had used were taken from the Sheriff’s office and that the deputy’s keys would work in them as well. If not, he’d have to pick the cuff on his left hand and the cuffs on Maggie’s wrists. That would require him to get close to her, and he wanted to give her some space.
With a twist of the key, he freed his left hand and placed his cuffs on the sleeping deputy. He threw the key into the dirt in front of Maggie. She didn’t reach for it. She didn’t acknowledge him.
He stared out across the desolate plain, and tears formed in his eyes. He had killed again. The questions and doubts flooded over him. Was there another way? Is this really who I am … a killer? Then, he thought of the Brubakers. If I had killed the Sheriff then, would the Brubaker family still be alive?
He hated himself—for what he had done, and what he had failed to do.
He looked down at the gun in his hand. Maybe I should finish it. Truly finish it. Maybe I should just … Finish it … Finish what you begin … Ackerman.
His knuckles turned white as he squeezed the pistol in a crushing grip. He closed his eyes. What does Ackerman have left unfinished?
His mind sifted through all the tiny bits of information he knew about the killer. He wished that he had been able to study an actual case file, instead of just hearing second-hand information.
Then, he did something that he hated to do. He put himself inside Ackerman’s mind. He became the killer.
He had always been able to think like a killer. It was another dark gift that made him question his own sanity. What do I consider unfinished?
He thought back to the first time he had seen Ackerman’s face, and the realization washed over him like a tsunami claiming the shores of his mind.
He opened his eyes and looked back toward Maggie. He knew that she couldn’t follow where he had to go. He considered telling her that he was going after Ackerman but decided against it. He turned and ran back up the path to Alexei’s car.
Behind him, he heard Maggie screaming for him to stop, to wait. “You don’t understand,” she screamed.
But he understood all that he needed to. He now knew where Ackerman had gone. He had let the killer escape. He had caused so much death. And now he would set things right.