2 Sisters Detective Agency(71)

Vera climbed onto the bed, straddled the girl, and wrapped her fingers around Beaty’s thin neck.

The machines started ticking and singing around her. A part of Vera’s mind knew this was a bad plan. That killing her this way would bring nurses and doctors, and she’d have to dispense with them too. But she had to take Beaty. Then Jacob. She’d worry about plans later. She was good at this. It had always been in her. She was so good at killing she didn’t need an exit strategy. This was her entry into a new life.

The girl bucked and twisted underneath her, the gagging, jerking dance of the unconscious body deprived of air. The girl’s eyes flew open. Vera held on. She’d imagined killing someone this way a few times before. This kind of death would be perfect for her mother. A slow, drowning, intimate death. Vera felt her whole body come alive with pleasure.

A slamming door cut the euphoric feeling short. Two nurses burst in, their squeals of surprise and horror making Vera retract her hands from the girl’s throat as though her skin was hot. She leaned over and fumbled in the handbag she had thrown on the table beside the bed while Beaty coughed and spluttered. Vera grabbed her gun and fired twice, hitting a nurse with each bullet. They lay still on the ground.

Outside the door, chaos was growing. People had heard the gunshots and were shouting out, trying to get a sense of what had happened in the room, too afraid to come look. They knew, of course. The distinct sound of a gun in a crowded public building meant only one thing in the modern United States. Vera heard running footsteps, alarms beginning to sound. But as she focused back on strangling the invalid girl, all she was really listening to was the sound of Beaty’s final gasps for air as the life drained out of her underneath Vera’s hands.

And then he was there. Jacob came into the room silently and quickly, striking so fast that his movement was a blur at the corner of Vera’s vision. He wrapped an arm around her neck, dragged her backward, and threw her against the wall. The gun clattered onto the floor between the two dead nurses. Vera righted herself and locked eyes with the man in the dimly lit room.





Chapter 98



The two teenagers ran through the streets. Above them, tall, thin palm trees looked like dark prison bars against the orange sunset sky.

They didn’t talk. Baby tried to turn down an alleyway, but Ashton grabbed her hand and pulled her in a different direction; after that, there seemed no reason to let go of her fingers. They were warm in his, and he needed something to hold on to.

Baby eventually took her hand back when they stopped on a street corner to lean against a fence, huffing with effort. The sweat on her forehead shone like a mist of diamonds.

“We need a plan,” Baby said. “You’ve got an assassin after you. I’ve got the police and a cartel on my tail.”

“I can’t believe this is happening.” Ashton tried to suck in air, but his chest was tight. “It was never meant to be like this. I’m not this person.”

“You can have a mental breakdown about it later.” Baby held a hand up. “Right now, we’ve got to get off the streets.”

“Can you call Rhonda?” Ashton asked. “She knew what to do. She can tell us what to do.”

“The police would have taken her phone, probably,” Baby said. “It’s just us now.”

Ashton shivered. The words hit him hard. It’s just us now. At least it meant Baby was going to stick with him. He hardly knew her, couldn’t trust her, but she was all he had. They were two kids on the run, and he’d never felt more like a kid: confused, angry, on the verge of tears, so completely out of his depth. Ashton knew how stories like these ended. They ended on lonely highways with the car littered with police bullets or they ended with the kids in jail for the rest of their lives.

“But Rhonda—”

“She can’t help us,” Baby snapped. “Her big plan was to go to Colorado and hide. She was right about one thing. We need to get out of the city.” The girl wheeled around on Ashton. “You’re rich. You’ve got money. We go to a bank and you get as much cash out as possible. We go to an airport and hire a pilot to take us to, like, Bermuda or something. Maybe a private jet. Have you got a private jet?”

“No,” Ashton said. “And I’m not as rich as you think. My parents are rich. I’ve got access to a couple of thousand bucks or so of pocket money, but that’s it.”

“What? Are you kidding me?”

“I overspent a while back.” Ashton could feel his neck and jaw becoming hot. “They put me on lockdown. I get two thou a week spending money. That’s it.”

Baby chewed her lip, shook her head in disgust. Her thoughts seemed to be racing.

“I might know where we can get three million bucks,” she said. “That should keep us safe for a while.”

“Jesus,” Ashton said. “You think? We could buy a boutique hotel to hole up in. Maybe a passable yacht.”

“Getting the cash will be dangerous, though,” Baby said, his attempt at humor shot down with a single glance. She grabbed his hand again, and Ashton felt his stomach plunge. “Come on,” she said. “This way.”





Chapter 99



“Goddamnit.” Summerly yanked the wheel again. We had been driving along in stony silence when his phone rang. He’d listened to the call and then thrown the phone onto the dash of the car. “Baby got away.”