Till Death(80)

My gaze darted behind him. “I’m sorry, but I need—”

“I didn’t mean to knock you down the stairs. That was an accident,” he said, coming forward. “I didn’t mean to do that. You have to believe that.”

“Okay,” I said, deciding to agree with him at this moment was the best possible practice. “I believe you, but I can’t talk right now. I have to go. Maybe we can set up a time—”

“I would’ve stayed and helped, but I freaked out.” Outside, a truck turned on, engine churning loudly. “But I didn’t do it on purpose. I swear.”

“It’s okay. I’m fine.” I forced my voice to remain level as I shifted my weight. I was stuck between the two cars, only able to go backward, farther away from the doors, and he was too close, way too close. “But I really can’t talk—”

Currie lurched forward, grabbing my arms before I could move back. I gasped as his fingers dug in. “This can’t wait.”

My heart ended up in my throat. Fear rose as my purse slipped from my grasp and hit the ground. “Please let me go.”

“I didn’t have anything to do with what happened to Angela. God, I would never do something like that.” His brown eyes were wide. “We were screwing around and I’d left one of my jackets at her place. I just didn’t want it to get out. My wife would leave me and it would be all over this goddamn town. I knew she left a key here in case she locked herself out. I thought I could grab it and get out without being seen. That’s why I used the tunnel—”

“You need to let go of me.” I tried pulling free, but his hands tightened. A hundred different scenarios flashed before me, nearly all of them involving me kicking him between the legs. “You need to let go of me.”

“But I had nothing to do with what happened to her or—” Coach Currie’s body jolted forward as his hands let go. I jumped to the side, bumping into Mom’s truck as Currie’s eyes rolled back. He fell forward, smacking into the floor.

My head jerked up, and I saw Jason standing there between my car and Mom’s. He was holding a wrench. Wide eyed, he stared down at Currie. “I just remembered I left my gloves here yesterday, behind the desk. I was coming back to get them when I saw the doors open.”

I almost laughed out of relief. “Oh my God.”

“It was him? He was the one responsible for all of this?”

“I . . . I don’t know,” I whispered.

“Are you okay?” he asked, stepping around the prone body of the coach. “I heard you telling him to let you go, and I—I just reacted. I picked up the wrench that was on a shelf and I didn’t think.”

“I’m okay.” I reached out, placing my hand on his arm as I stared down at the coach. “I think we need to call the police.”

Jason lifted the wrench and swallowed hard. “And maybe an ambulance.”



“You did the right thing.” Derek stood next to Tyron, inside the lounge area. Luckily our guests were out, and I hoped the police would be gone before they returned.

Jason had his glasses in his hands and was fiddling with the arms as he sat in one of the chairs. “Is he . . . going to be okay?”

“The paramedic said he should be fine.” Tyron folded his arms. “You’re not in any trouble.”

That was a relief to hear.

“I’m going to head to the hospital.” Derek turned to the detective. “You coming?”

“In a few.”

Derek said his goodbyes and left, probably getting tired of showing up here. I turned my attention to the detective. I’d already given my statement, and the ambulance had carted off Coach Currie.

“Do any of you have any questions before I head to the hospital?” Tyron asked.

Mom stood behind the chair I sat in, her hand resting on my shoulder. “Was he responsible for what has been happening?”

“We don’t know that yet, Mrs. Keeton,” he replied. “But hopefully we’ll find something out once he awakens.”

I watched the flames ripple behind the glass. A huge part of me didn’t believe that he was the one who killed Angela and sent her severed finger to me, unless what he’d been saying outside had been a complete lie. I guessed that was plausible, but why lie about that?

“It has to have been him,” Jason said. “He was grabbing Sasha and he admitted to messing around with Angela. Maybe he did the whole finger thing to throw people off.”

That was also a decent theory.

Mom murmured under her breath as she pushed away from my chair and sat in the one closest to the fireplace. “Do you think that’s possible, Detective Conrad?”

“Anything is possible.” His phone rang from inside his jacket pocket and he pulled it out, glancing down at it. “I’ve got to go. Anything else?”

I shook my head.

“You better call Cole before he finds out,” he said as he walked away.

I sighed. “Was planning to!”

Jason scooted forward in the chair. “Well . . . today has not gone as planned.”

“I don’t think any day recently has gone as planned,” Mom said.

I laughed dryly as I slid down in the chair. “That is the truest thing spoken.”