Paint It All Red (Mindf*ck #5)(13)

He frowns. “What does that have to do with it?”

Leonard takes on the explanation. “We have footage of the trial, including everyone in the trial room instead of just the immediate trial factions. Kyle was never there because he genuinely didn’t give a fuck,” Leonard says bluntly. “The killer would have wanted to watch each and every event unfold as he’d planned, and revel in the downfall of Evans in person.”

Devin sits back, deflated, as though he’s considering it. “So it wasn’t Kyle?”

I shake my head.

“Then who was it?” he demands.

“We’re still trying to figure that out,” I say, motioning toward the stack of DVDs. “We have every face that was there on a daily basis, and we’re ruling them out one-by-one based on all the facts and profiling we can possibly do. It’s odd how more of these discs are arriving by the minute by anonymous tipsters.”

He shakes his head, disgusted. “I still think it was him, and until you can prove otherwise, I think the current killer believes the same thing.”

“Doubtful,” Leonard says immediately. “The one killing now? They’ve spent ten years examining all the evidence and know far more details than we do now.”

His eyes meet ours. “I hope you never catch this one. I hope this one ends every shred of evil this town has left in it. I believe in avenging angels, Agents. And I think this killer has been granted a dark gift to rid this world of the corruption this town offers. I thought there was a soul left to save, but now I don’t think there is. I think the angels’ wrath is here.”

He stands abruptly.

“Where are you going?” Leonard asks.

He turns to face us. “If you’re not arresting me, I’m going to go pick up my baby sister and take her far, far away from this place.”

I cock my head. “Why?”

He heads to the door and doesn’t turn around until it opens. “Because this place is going to burn. I can promise you that.”





Chapter 4


Weakness of attitude becomes weakness of character.

—Albert Einstein



LANA



“I thought you were just going after Murdock,” Jake hisses into the phone as I finish tying the last knot on Murdock’s ropes, binding him to the chair.

He wriggles in the chair, his threats muffled by the gag in his mouth.

“Due to our latest visitor, I’m ensuring that no one escapes the list. Just playing it safe,” I chirp, grinning when I back up and see Murdock glaring daggers at my face.

It was almost too easy to beat the hell out of him and tie him up. The hard part was loading him into my trunk and dragging him up the stairs of the courtroom without being seen.

Fortunately, with all the chaos following Kyle’s death, no one was guarding the back entrance. I just needed Murdock’s key to get us in.

I pick up the gavel, examining it. Judge Henry Thomas is engraved on the handle.

“This is too risky.”

“Not at all,” I promise Jake.

“Shit,” he hisses.

“What?”

“Some redhead is getting out of a car in our driveway.”

My body tenses. “Hadley found us,” I groan.

“Shit. Shit. Shit. What the hell do I do with her?”

“Don’t hurt her,” I warn him.

“So invite her in for tea?” he deadpans.

“If she’s there alone, that means she’s there to help us. Just see what she wants. And I mean it; don’t hurt her.”

“Great. I’ll just make nice with the FBI while you’re killing a deputy and a judge,” he says dryly.

“Exactly,” I say before hanging up on him.

I put my phone away and study Murdock as he sweats, still glaring at me like he can condemn me to hell with just that scathing look.

“Your daughter and wife will be home tonight, safe and sound, in case you’re worried. I’m sure they won’t miss you if you don’t return.” I crouch in front of him, keeping my eyes on his as that anger slowly gets replaced by reluctant fear. “I’m almost positive they’ll cry a little, but secretly, when no one is looking at them, they’ll treasure that small bit of peace they have now that you can no longer hurt them.”

I stand abruptly, and he screams, the sound muffled by the gag.

Casually, I turn on the old vinyl record Judge Thomas has on the player, waiting for him to return to his chambers after a long day of hiding or burning any remaining evidence from my father’s case. Too bad he’s a decade too late in covering up his trail.

You know what they say about hubris…

For ten years, they got lazy, thinking this case was over and done with, not much cleanup necessary, considering they killed everyone involved and a FBI agent was on their side.

Mozart’s Requiem streams through the chambers, a dramatic composition full of passion and excitement.

I sway with the music, listening to it with my eyes closed. My father was always a Bach man, but Mozart had so much more emotion in all his compositions, in my opinion.

The sound of the door opening has me turning around and a smile dancing on my lips as Judge Thomas shuts the door behind him. I press the button on my remote, and my newly installed lock slides into place. The only way to open it is to get the remote from me.