214 Palmer Street(61)

Sarah listened, spellbound. So she’d been right about the machete. “Then what happened?”

Kirk shrugged. “She kept swinging that machete. All three of us tried to take it away from her but Jeremy got too close, and the blade sliced into his abdomen. He bled out before we could get help.”

Sarah looked from her husband to Gavin, trying to process the story she’d just heard. “But why didn’t you tell anyone?”

Before he could answer, Gavin interrupted. “You were the one who invited her,” he said. “This was supposed to be a guys’ club and suddenly Clarice is there, embedded in our group, part of everything. If you remember, I objected at the time, but no, Kirk said she was cool.” He looked Sarah in the eye. “He isn’t the best judge of character.”

Kirk nodded. “You’re right. This is all on me. Right from the start, I made a mistake. I had no way of knowing how it would go.”

“Jeremy was so sure she had a thing for him.”

“She played all of us,” he continued. “Clarice was the consummate liar, telling all of us what we wanted to hear. I know she fooled me—at least at first.”

Gavin said, “I caught on to her right away, but Jeremy never did. He was clueless.”

“He was just a kid. I mean, at the time, we all felt like adults, but now in retrospect, we hadn’t even started to live.” Kirk shifted, his hand going to his pocket, thumb looped over the edge. “Such a tragedy. The way she hit him with that machete was unreal. I still have nightmares about it. So much blood.”

Sarah sat in disbelief. Clarice killed Jeremy? The woman she’d spent hours with—chatting over lunches, planning events at work, telling her the story of her parents’ deaths, something she rarely mentioned to anyone—had killed an innocent person, a teenage boy? And Kirk and Gavin had witnessed it and covered it up?

All these years Jeremy’s family had lived in limbo, yearning for their lost son when all the while three people knew exactly what had happened to him. A tragedy compounded by a thousand.

Gavin gruffly said, “Just so you know, it’s not like I wanted to kill Clarice. She couldn’t be reasoned with—said she was going to come clean. I couldn’t let her do that. I gave her plenty of chances to cooperate.”

“Killing her was the right thing to do,” Kirk said approvingly. “You had no choice.”

Sarah inched forward as a test, but neither man noticed, so intent were they on what the other was saying. Kirk’s method of emotionally disarming Gavin with a trip down memory lane, rephrasing it as Clarice’s issue and pointing out their previous solidarity was shrewd. But was it enough?

“Damn right I had no choice.”

“I’m glad we understand each other,” Kirk said. Even without looking at his face, Sarah could imagine the smile, well-practiced from years of selling cars. “Put the gun down and let’s figure out what to do with Clarice’s body.” Kirk gestured to Sarah with a slight bob of his head. She thought he was indicating this was her opportunity. Run!

She knew it was a bad plan. Gavin physically blocked the only way out. There was no way she’d get past him. He was a head taller, much stronger, and had a gun. She’d be dead in seconds. A distraction was needed. The flashlight she’d been using lay on the floor, beam shining. It was too small to use as a weapon but turned off it might cause some momentary confusion, giving them an advantage. She surreptitiously moved slowly in that direction.

“Freeze!”

Her glance went to Gavin’s face. He had the gun barrel trained on her.

“Whatever you’re thinking of doing, forget about it,” he told her.

Her stomach dropped and she felt like crying. She wanted to beg him to let them walk away, but she held back, sensing he’d love to hear her pleading, reveling in the idea that he had the upper hand. She’d made a big mistake, drawing his attention. She should have just gone for it. Now she was going to die here, kneeling in the dirt, covered in sweat. Once he shot her, she’d bleed out like Clarice. Another dead woman in the hole.

Kirk said, “Why don’t you let her go? You and me, we can work this out.”

Sarah let her fingers trail the floor of the bomb shelter, hoping to scoop up dirt to throw in his direction, but she only came up with small damp clumps. Her fingernails scrabbled at the ground, reaching further from where she kneeled, and when she hit something solid and metal, she immediately knew what it was. The crowbar she’d brought with her earlier. It had been knocked out of her hand when Kirk fell on her, but it hadn’t gone far.

“Enough!” Gavin swung the gun toward Kirk. “You always did talk too much. I’m done listening.”

Sarah’s fingers curled around the crowbar. Adrenalin surging, she leapt to her feet, swinging the tool up and bringing it down with all the force she could muster. She felt the impact when it struck Gavin’s head. Her ears registered the muffled noise of the gun as it simultaneously went off. She heard Kirk crying out, “No!” as if from a distance. His wail echoed off the concrete walls. She watched in utter horror as he clutched his chest and toppled to the ground. At the same time, Gavin staggered and fell backward onto the stairs. The gun he’d fired bounced to the shelter floor.

Sarah rushed to her husband’s side and dropped down next to him. She pressed her palms against the wound in his chest, trying to staunch the bleeding. “Hang in there, Kirk. Don’t leave me.”