Catch Me (Detective D.D. Warren, #6)(115)

From the other side of the counter, Tom frowned at me. “Isn’t that a matter of semantics?”

“No, it’s a broader category. I had two best friends. But there are three people I love.”

“Aunt Nancy.”

“I think so. I’ve tried calling her hotel twice, but there’s no answer. Detective O was supposed to interview her sometime today. Of course, Detective Warren gave those orders before she knew O’s true identity.” I made another sideways move. Almost at the end of the counter, where in two steps, I could lunge around, reach him where he stood in the kitchen.

My hands, shaking harder. My throat tightening, forcing me to swallow, take deep breaths.

Everyone has to die sometime. Be brave.

All these years later, my mother was coming for me. That’s how it felt on some level. In a way I didn’t understand yet, she had won, and I had lost, and twenty years later she was still making me pay.

Except I wasn’t a little girl anymore. I wasn’t going quietly into that good night.

I had learned my lessons. I was prepared to die. But more than that, I was prepared to fight.

“You sure this Abigail is going after your aunt?” Tom was asking now. “Because you still have only two victims for analysis. And if this detective is your long-lost sister seeking revenge, still makes sense she’d go after you.”

“If all she wanted was to kill me, she could’ve done that in the beginning. Knocked on my door and told me her name. I would’ve let her inside, Tom. I would’ve stood there and willingly let my baby sister place her hands around my neck and squeeze. But she didn’t. She went after my friends. She doesn’t want me dead. She wants me to suffer. Probably, just like she has.”

“That why she framed you? Gonna kill your friends, your aunt, then get you tossed in jail?”

I shrugged, hoping it looked casual as I executed my final sideways shuffle. “I think the framing thing was just to buy time. It got me isolated and on the defensive, making it even easier for her to go after my aunt.”

“All right,” Tom said decidedly. “Where’s your aunt staying? We’re on our way.”

“I don’t think so.”

“I can call for backup. We make up an excuse. Burglary in progress, a fire, hell code the living daylights out of it, get the place crawling with uniforms. That’ll set her back on her ass.”

“I don’t think so.”

He picked up his keys, ignoring me completely, as I knew he would do.

“Got a surprise for you—” he started.

I lunged around the end of the counter. Two steps, half pivot, left hand up, eye-to-eye with my opponent. Jab, jab, jab to his nose, fingers curled tight, thumb to knuckles. Tom didn’t get his hands up. He didn’t defend himself against this surprising attack from a girl. He didn’t defend himself against me.

Final blow. Overhand right to the head. I pivoted my back leg and rolled my shoulder into it. My fist, bearing the extra weight of a tight bundle of coins, connected with the side of Tom’s head.

He went down. First collapsing at the knees, then swaying, before finally toppling back and to the side. His shoulder cracked against the hard wood of the kitchen cabinets. I winced, closing my eyes before I caught myself.

If you can attack the man who three hours before would’ve been your lover, the man who would still be your lone defender in the world, then you can damn well keep your eyes open and absorb the blow.

He crumpled on the floor. I shook out both of my hands, my knuckles and wrists already aching from impact. But that’s the point of training—it prepares you for the pain, enables you to soldier through.

Not much time now.

Nightfall. January 21.

I laid out Tom on the floor. Checked his pulse to make sure it was steady, found a pillow for beneath his head. Then I swapped out my dark jacket for a lined L.L. Bean camouflaged hunting coat I’d found in his closet. I wrapped his brown scarf around my neck, catching the scent of his soap and cologne. I pulled another brown knit cap low over my head. Conducted one last check of my pockets.

Everyone has to die sometime. Be brave.

I kissed his forehead. Gently. Tenderly. Regretfully.

Then, because I was only human, and my eyes were burning and my resolve shaking, I moved away.

I know Tom would’ve helped me. For that matter, I could probably partner with Detective Warren as well. But I didn’t want to. From the first moment D.D. had said my baby sister was still alive and coming for me, I’d known what I must do. The next few hours would be deeply personal.

A matter of family business.

I left a note, scrawled earlier with a brief apology that would never be enough. I took Tom’s keys, exited his apartment.

I got a fresh shock in the dimly lit parking lot. The low sound of a dog whining, which grew louder as I approached Tom’s police cruiser. There, in the front seat, staring at me through the windshield: Tulip.

He’d started to say he had a surprise for me. My dog. Tom had searched the city for Tulip and brought her to me.

Possibly, my eyes blurred as I worked the key remote for the police cruiser, opening the door, releasing the dog who was definitely my dog and feeling the solid weight of her as she hurled herself against my shaking form. I scooped her up and held her close. I was sorry for her, and sorry for Tom and sorry for my baby sister, whom I still loved, and sorrier still for my aunt, who might even now be paying for my sins.