First Girl Gone(95)
She focused on her breathing. Forced her throat to open, to let the wind in. It took a second to get the rhythm of it back under control.
Will. It was Will. How could it be him?
She ran the story of the missing girls back through her mind in fast motion, drawing the line between Will and the crimes. He’d known both of the victims, representing Kara Dawkins professionally and doing business with Amber Spadafore’s father. Will had been the one who’d told her about the Red Velvet Lounge and had apparently frequented the place enough to be considered a regular. He would have had easy access to not only Charlie’s office but her apartment, would know better than most when it was likely to be empty. And then there was the Leroy Gibbs connection. The falsely accused murderer was his cousin as well as his client, for God’s sake. Will had access to Gibbs’ property to plant evidence, and he knew the long-term history as well as anyone on Salem Island. Gibbs. Allie. He knew all of these people personally, rotated in the same orbit as everyone enmeshed in the crimes.
He’d been present at every step of the investigation, asking her questions about it, hiding in plain sight. A snake. A murderer.
Another thought struck her then. If Will was setting Gibbs up now, had he done it before?
She went over everything in her mind, the things Will had said to her about Allie.
Dear God. Had Will killed Allie? Was that why he’d been so certain that Gibbs couldn’t have done it?
Nausea roiled in Charlie’s gut. Lurching and spitting like a lantern. A twinge of sickness stabbed at her, so sharp in her middle that for a few seconds she thought she might vomit.
She swallowed a few times in a dry throat. Let the queasy feelings pass.
It made sense. Crazy as it seemed, it all made perfect sense. Will Crawford was the killer.
Charlie raised her shaking arms, pointed the gun at Will’s back, tried her best to steady the weapon, to stop the muscles up and down her forearms and shoulders from twitching like mad.
When she spoke, her voice came out loud and sharp, ringing out over the empty park.
“Don’t move.”
Chapter Seventy-Eight
Will turned in slow motion. The furrow between his brows loosening when he saw it was Charlie behind him. For a split second, he looked pleased, a smile forming at the corners of his mouth. Then his eyes shifted down to the gun in Charlie’s hands, focused on the black bulk of the weapon clasped between her fingers, and his eyebrows shot straight up.
“Charlie, what are you doing?”
“Put your hands up,” Charlie said.
Her voice shook just a little. She hoped he didn’t hear that.
All sound seemed to be whooshing around her now, the night air sibilant, whispering a string of nonsense syllables that seemed to fall in and out of time with the blood roaring in her ears. She swallowed and gave her head a shake. Tried to fight off the auditory hallucinations without effect.
Will’s hands lifted up to near his ears, looking red from the cold.
“I don’t understand what’s happening.”
“You’ve been spying on me,” Charlie said.
His mouth opened and closed, as if he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to try to deny it or not.
“You installed a keylogger on my computer.”
“OK, look. I can explain.” His shoulders came up in a shrug. “This isn’t what it must seem like—”
“Quiet now,” Charlie cut him off.
She wasn’t interested in hearing his excuses just now. Didn’t think she’d be able to process it all with the shock still running through her. She needed to focus on keeping the gun on him until Zoe got here. After that, there’d be time for talk.
Probing with her elbow, Charlie could feel the bulk of the walkie-talkie in her right coat pocket. She wanted to get the thing out, call Zoe, but she didn’t dare take either of her hands off the gun, didn’t dare take her eyes off Will. Not now.
Zoe would come. Soon. They’d made a plan, right? Seven minutes. That had to be coming up already. Had to. Any second now.
“Charlie, lower the gun at least. Please. I’m not dangerous. This whole thing is a misunderstanding.”
“Shut up.”
Will took a step forward, one of those elongated shadows from the branches above falling over his face for a second, blotting out one eye.
Charlie backpedaled several paces.
“Stay back.”
She gestured with the gun as though to remind him that she had it. Any intimidating effect was likely undercut by the fact that her whole body was trembling.
The night whooshed louder. Flapping insects seemed to surround her, swooping ever closer. Her heart raced, more of a slurred murmur than the knocking beats that had pounded in her chest earlier. Some distant part of her thought she may be verging on a panic attack.
Where the hell was Zoe? She had to be here by now. Didn’t she?
She took one hand from the gun and reached for her pocket. Her fingers clasped around the walkie-talkie, gave a pull. The bottom slid out easy enough, but the antenna caught on the edge of the pocket. Charlie glanced down, just for a second, only wanting to get the walkie unstuck.
And the next thing Charlie knew, Will was on her. The walkie-talkie spilled out of her pocket, striking the pavement somewhere in the shadows, but she was too focused on keeping her hold on the gun to think about that now. Will gripped her forearms, fingers as hard as steel. He threw his weight into her, his hip bashing into her abdomen. Knocking her back on her heels. Off-balance.