My heart pounded as I waited for him to find me.
“What do you care if I’m blackmailing Feliks?” Stu snapped. Panic gripped me as the slow crush of his shoes suggested he was moving in Wade’s direction. “He’s a despicable human being. It was about time he suffered a loss. He doesn’t care about anyone else’s pain. He’s never helped anyone. Healed anyone. He doesn’t deserve the kind of wealth he’s amassed at the expense of innocent victims.”
“And you do?” I called out. I squeezed my eyes shut as I listened to Stu pivot toward me.
“I can hardly afford a car payment after my mortgage in this county! What’s a couple million to a guy like Feliks Zhirov? It’s pocket change to him. I deserve that money more than he does.”
Wade choked on a laugh. “You deserve to be in a prison cell with him.”
“I can still kill all of you and take the bag!” Stu shouted.
“Wouldn’t be the first time you killed someone for cash,” I called out. A heavy silence fell over the deck. “You’re EasyClean, right? The same EasyClean Sam and Nick found on that women’s forum the night it disappeared.” My skin prickled through the silence that followed. I didn’t like that I couldn’t hear him move. That Vero wasn’t responding. That Wade’s struggling grunts had gone eerily quiet.
I poked my head out of my hiding spot and froze.
Stu’s gun was raised, less than ten feet away, pointed right at me. I scrambled back on my hands as he stalked toward me, holding the duffel bag. My back smacked into the roof ledge; nowhere else to go.
“How many people have you murdered for money?” I asked, desperate to keep him talking.
“I’m not a monster like Feliks. I didn’t do it for the money.”
“You charged a fee for it.”
“I provided a service for which I charged fair market value! The jobs I chose were all carefully vetted, and believe me, their transgressions were far worse than mine. They all deserved what was coming to them.”
I stared up at him. How was he defining these transgressions he’d vetted? “What do you mean, worse? I don’t understand—”
“No, you can’t understand,” he corrected me. His voice shook with barely contained rage as the nose of his gun came terrifyingly close to me. “You’re here for fun, playing at a citizen’s academy, making up stories as part of some big PR circus! When it’s over, you’ll go home and write some bad guys into your book, but you don’t actually know any of those bad guys—not like I do. You’ve never actually seen real crime scenes or real bodies. You live in a world of metaphors. Of simulations and dummies. I can’t explain my reasons to you; you can’t possibly understand them!”
“Then explain them to me,” a voice called out.
Stu’s body went rigid. I peered around his legs toward the fire escape, but all I could make out was Nick’s silhouette as he limped into view. His gun was extended, trained on Stu’s back. “I’m listening, Stu. I want to understand. Put the gun down and talk to me.”
Stu’s finger hovered over the trigger, his voice growing thick. “Do you have any idea how many perpetrators I’ve interviewed for this department? How many victims I’ve counseled?” He shook his head as if he couldn’t fathom the answer to his own question. “I’ve listened to hundreds of mothers and wives recount the details of their abuse. Watched their husbands and boyfriends released and returned home on bullshit technicalities. I’ve attended funerals for their children, knowing I’d done all I could and it would never be enough. There are people out there who need help, Nick. The kind of help police and social workers can’t give them, but EasyClean could. You, of anyone, should understand why I did it. You’ve watched Zhirov hurt people over and over, and every time he’s walked away unscathed.”
“Doesn’t excuse it.” Nick’s arms were steady as he limped closer. “We both took oaths when we signed on for this, Stu. You swore to do no harm.”
Stu whirled, swinging his gun toward Nick. “You swore to protect and serve!”
“I swore to uphold the law! I never once stooped to Zhirov’s level!” I held my breath as they circled each other, guns extended, twenty feet apart. “You used Feliks’s forum to conduct your own illicit business. You used your clients—you used me—to advance your own agenda. You murdered people and took money for it, same as Zhirov. Don’t make that same mistake now.” Nick lowered his voice. He looked Stu in the eyes. “Put the gun down. Let’s go inside and talk.”
Stu’s finger shook as it slid away from the trigger. After a long moment, his elbows bent. He dropped the duffel bag and lowered his gun. I only started breathing again when it clattered to the deck. I scrambled for it and tossed it away from him.
Nick’s voice was gravelly when he said, “Put your hands on your head and turn around.” Stu’s expression was mournful as he slowly turned to face me. “Get on your knees,” Nick said.
Stu kept his hands on his head as he eased himself down. His resigned calm made me uneasy. He didn’t look angry or confused or even scared anymore. He seemed sad, as if he’d come to a decision he’d hoped he wouldn’t have to.
Nick holstered his gun. He limped forward, reaching into his pocket for his cuffs.
A gust of wind caught Stu’s coat. One side of it blew open; the other seemed held in place, weighed down by something in the pocket. My eyes shot wide as I remembered Wade’s gun.
I shouted Nick’s name as Stu reached inside his coat. He pulled the gun and turned it on Nick. With the uninhibited conviction of an impassioned five-year-old, I hurled myself toward Stu and threw my arms around his legs, remembering the lessons I’d learned that week, about survival and size and not second-guessing yourself when you’re ready to pull the trigger. About not holding back. The force of my tackle hug sent us crashing to the ground. Wade’s gun flew from Stu’s outstretched hand and skittered across the roof deck.
Nick’s shoes skidded to a stop beside me. He pulled me off Stu and cuffed Stu’s hands behind his back.
“Any other guns I should know about?” Nick asked, grinning at me with an awestruck expression as I dusted off my hands and caught my breath.
“Just that one.” I gestured toward the one protruding from the back of Vero’s pants. She had a foot braced on the half wall as she dragged Wade over the ledge.
Stu wrenched his head off the ground as Nick frisked his clothes. “You know me, Nick. We’ve worked together for years. I’m not one of the bad guys. You don’t have to handcuff me—”
Wade tumbled onto the roof deck and sprawled on the concrete. “Now would be a really good time to shut up and wait for your attorney,” he panted.
Someone groaned behind the pump house. “Jesus, my head … what the hell…？” Vero cringed as Joey started shouting. “Someone get these cuffs off me! And where the hell is my gun?”
Wade rose stiffly to his feet. “Relax, you cranky bastard. I’m coming.” Vero looked sheepish as she offered Joey’s gun to Wade. Wade waved her off. “If Joey gives you a hard time, you have my permission to shoot him.”