Her Last Word(102)

He rubbed her blood between his thumb and index finger. “You aren’t her.”

“I know.”

The pounding upstairs grew louder.

“Get rid of them,” she said. “We need more time.”

He wiped the blood on his pant leg. “No, that’s the thing, Kaitlin. I’ve been expecting them.” He crossed the room, opened the door, and closed it behind him.



Marcus’s black truck was parked at the beginning of the long driveway that led to a one-story ranch home situated in the center of a large lot surrounded by a ribbon of woods. The lawn nearer the house was neat and the hedges trimmed, but all the shades in the house were drawn.

Adler called Kaitlin’s number, but it went to voicemail. He pounded on the door as Quinn stood to the side, her hand on her weapon. “He’s here,” he said. “The truck is in the driveway. And Kaitlin sent the text. She wouldn’t ignore my calls now.”

“That’s assuming she sent the text,” Quinn said. “Kaitlin was lured into a trap with a text. You really think he brought her to his home?”

He drew his weapon. “Why not? The closest house is a hundred yards away. There are woods around the lot. He has privacy.”

“We’re assuming she’s still alive,” Quinn said carefully.

That thought had also occurred to him, but he’d chased it away. “I’m betting on Kaitlin. She’s resourceful, and she’s found a reason for him to keep her alive.”

“He already tried to kill her once. Why bother with bringing her here and then telling you what he’s doing?”

“I don’t know. Keep pounding on the door. I’m going around back.”

The flashing lights of four police cars pulled into the driveway and raced toward them.

Adler’s phone rang. It was Logan. “What do you have?”

“Marcus’s wife left him seven months ago. She packed up their kid and moved back to her mother’s in Maryland.”

“That’s the trigger,” Adler said.

“It’s enough to send a sane man over the edge,” Logan said. “The guy’s written hundreds of articles, not only about cold cases, but he seemed particularly obsessed with how the victims died.”

“Roger that,” Adler said.

“Jesus, man, be careful.”

“Right.” He ended the call. “I’m not waiting,” Adler said.

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going around the back to see if there’s another entrance. You and the uniforms break the front door down.”

As Quinn pounded on the door, he ran around the side of the house to a back door leading onto a screened porch. To the right was a set of freshly painted cellar doors.

He looked up and saw Marcus standing by the kitchen window. The man’s expression was calm, too calm. He wasn’t the least bit surprised to see Adler or the growing number of cops in his yard. This felt like a trap, just like the one the arsonist set.

Adler leveled his weapon, but Marcus laughed as he regarded him. He looked confident, almost triumphant as he watched the cop cars arriving. And then he raised a gun to his own head. In one second Adler tensed, shouted for him to put the gun down. And in the next instant, Marcus fired. His head snapped as the bullet cut through it, and blood sprayed the wall. His body went limp, and he dropped out of sight.

Adler’s gut clenched. None of this felt right. Why take Kaitlin, text him, and then just kill himself? Again, he smelled a trap.

He called Quinn. “Marcus shot himself.”

“I heard the gunshot. Are you sure?”

“I saw him drop. The suspect is down. I repeat he is down.”

“We’re going in the front door.”

He heard the front doorframe crack and then slam open. “I’m going through the cellar doors.”

Adler threw back the doors and immediately was hit with the thick scent of gasoline. Weapon drawn and the phone still connected in his hand, he moved down the side cellar staircase. Instantly he spotted the drums and the wires that led into them. On top of them was a digital clock ticking down. Thirty seconds remained. Marcus had wired the house to explode. Adler realized this was Marcus’s last stand.

Kaitlin pushed through a door and looked up at him. He saw the fear etched in her features as he ran toward her and grabbed her arm.

Time stopped, and each second played out agonizingly slow.

He holstered his weapon and shouted into his phone. “The house is rigged, Quinn. Clear everyone.”

Twenty seconds.

Adler and Kaitlin raced up the cellar steps. She tripped on the top step, and he gripped her hand tighter and steadied her as she caught herself. The land behind the house was open. He ran faster, pulling her with him. His heart pumped. Her breathing was fast and labored.

Ten seconds. They’d put forty feet between them and the house. He heard the shouts of the other cops yelling to retreat. He could only hope the house had been cleared.

Five seconds. He threw Kaitlin to the ground and covered her body with his. Three seconds. Two seconds. “Don’t breathe.”

The house exploded.

Time slowed as the blaze licked over their bodies, singeing his hair and exposed skin. It roared around them, like a destructive monster. He remembered the last fire that had almost killed him and Logan’s scream and his own flesh feeling as if it were being peeled away. But he kept his body tightly pressed against hers. She tensed and buried her face in the cool ground.