The New Husband(109)
“Thank you,” he said. “You don’t know how happy you’ve made me.”
Wheeler came into full view, a stair creaking under his weight as Simon sprang out from behind the staircase. Whirling around to face him, Simon fired three shots—pop, pop, pop—before Wheeler fired one. His bullet sank harmlessly into a concrete wall; all three of Simon’s sank into flesh. Wheeler tumbled down the stairs, spilling onto the concrete floor, spreading blood everywhere.
Simon went to him. Wheeler, on his back at the bottom of the stairs, gazed blankly at the ceiling. Pulling the gun from Wheeler’s weakened grasp, Simon tucked it into the waistband of his khakis. He looked down at the detective as though he were assessing something too bizarre to comprehend.
“Detective,” he said sorrowfully, “why on earth are you here?”
Nina watched the erratic rise and fall of Wheeler’s chest. “Connor.… worried … called,” he managed to wheeze.
Simon sounded surprised. “Why would he be worried?”
Nina swallowed a gasp. She’d forgotten about the camera in the woods. It was still taking pictures in the daylight. Connor must have been checking for signs of Daisy and maybe saw a picture of Nina entering the house. He would have at least noticed her car parked in the driveway. There must have been another picture of Simon’s arrival, and Connor would have known she was still inside. That’s why he had called her. And when she didn’t answer, he called the police.
Good boy. Good boy, she thought.
Nina moved out from behind the stairs to take a tentative step toward them. Trying to sneak up on Simon while he had his back to her was like playing the children’s game, red light, green light.
Simon stood to the side of the staircase closer to the dog crate, Wheeler splayed out at the bottom step, Nina creeping up from behind. Out of the corner of his eye, Wheeler watched Nina approaching. Then he looked away, focusing as best he could on Simon—to keep him from noticing her, she thought hopefully. Nina continued her silent advance, bending at the knees to pick up something off the floor.
Wheeler spit a gob of blood from his mouth. “Officer down. Backup—call for backup … call, backup.”
He was disoriented. A pool of blood darkened his shirt. Every word he spoke was a struggle. Nina now knew the detective hadn’t asked for backup when he came to investigate. No additional police were coming. Help wasn’t on the way.
Simon covered his mouth with his hands like he couldn’t believe what he’d just done. His shoulders slumped as though he was supremely disappointed in himself.
“I’m so sorry for doing that to you,” Simon said, indeed sounding genuinely remorseful. “You’ve been … helpful to my efforts. You did a really exemplary job. End of watch, that’s what the police call it, right?”
Simon raised his gun, aiming it at Wheeler’s head, but lowered it as he surveyed the rest of him. There was no need to fire another bullet.
“Why?” Wheeler had to know what he was dying for.
“For love. For a second chance,” Simon said.
Wheeler’s fading gaze looked past Simon at Nina, who had snuck up close enough to be within striking distance, wielding a huge glass shard from the smashed television like a dagger.
She thought of Maggie, at lunch, gasping for air as her swollen throat closed up. She thought of the EpiPen she had driven hard into her daughter’s thigh on more than one occasion. It’s just another pen, Nina told herself, thinking of the glass. Do it again. Do it again.
Nina locked her eyes on her target. Swinging her arm in a similarly wide arc, she drove the glass shard into the side of Simon’s neck with powerful force. When the glass had penetrated the skin and dug in far enough to do damage, Nina yanked hard, slicing open her palm in the process as Simon’s neck split wide. The severed veins made a ripping sound as jets of dark blood sprayed geyser-like in a horizontal direction.
Simon sank to the floor, dropping his weapon to clutch at his bleeding throat, choking to death on his own blood. His legs spasmed as his body jerked about wildly.
Reaching for the gun Simon dropped, Nina picked it up, and retrieved Wheeler’s weapon as well. She thought about shooting Simon, but preferred to watch him writhing, gasping, dying as blood poured from his body in rivers. She looked over at Wheeler. His wide eyes were open, seeing nothing. His chest no longer rose or fell.
Nina had taken CPR as part of her numerous certifications. She pumped hard and fast on the middle of Wheeler’s chest while Simon gagged on his blood. With her hands soaked in Wheeler’s blood and her own, Nina delivered rescue breaths she knew were pointless as she watched Simon die. She could deliver all the rescue breaths in the world; Wheeler wasn’t taking them. His eyes were milky with death. There was no point in doing anything more, and Simon was still alive.
Nina had something important left to do. She approached Simon without caution, knelt down next to him, not caring that his blood was getting all over her shoes, her pants.
“Where is Allison? Did you do something to her? Where is she? Where is the baby?”
Simon gazed up at Nina with a look of pure bewilderment.
“Give her peace, Simon,” she said, pleading now with urgency in her voice. “Did you hurt her? Do you know where she is?”
Simon’s breathing grew labored. He gurgled on his blood. Time was running out. He was going to take this secret, if there even was one, with him to his grave. But she had something else to say. The last words she wanted him to hear. The last words he’d ever hear.