“Answer it.”
I can’t hear what Matthew is saying, but as I watch Skip’s expression transform from anger into a kind of primal terror, I act on instinct. I pull Romeo into the back seat of my car, jump into the driver’s seat, and start my engine, while Skip leaps into the passenger’s side.
“He’s going to hurt her!” Skip shouts. “I’m calling 911!”
I’m already making a U-turn, my wheels squealing against the pavement, as I head towards the Bishops’ house. There’s no traffic on a Sunday afternoon, and I’ll run any red lights we encounter. We’re only a couple minutes away.
Matthew must know his threat will bring Skip to his door, but he won’t expect me to be there, too.
Matthew had a long time to plan this. But I’ve got the element of surprise on my side.
I’ve got something else, too. As we race toward the Bishops’ house, I steer with one hand and reach across Skip to unlock the glove compartment of my car with the other. I take out my fully loaded .38 pistol and set it on my lap.
“I know the code for the back door. Give me the gun.” Skip is leaning forward, one hand on the door handle, ready to leap out the moment we get there.
“No!” I instinctively say. “He’ll be expecting you to go in that way.”
Then I tell Skip what we’re going to do.
By the time we pull up by the curb down the street from the Bishops’ house, Skip has his jacket off. He leaps out before my car comes to a stop and sprints diagonally to the front door, banging on it and yelling Marissa’s name.
He’s creating a diversion. If Matthew is watching out a window, his eyes will be on Skip.
I lock Romeo in my car, then quickly survey the terrain. The Bishops have neighbors on both sides. To their left is a house with a manicured lawn and two cars parked in the driveway. The one on the right is surrounded by trees and thick bushes. I opt for that one, hoping the cover of the foliage will camouflage my movements.
By the time Skip is breaking a window at the side of the house, as I told him to, I’ve arrived at the back door.
I punch in the code Skip gave me—S-A-M-B, for the name of Bennett’s pet gecko—praying no one has changed it recently. The light on the lock switches from red to green.
I’m in.
The kitchen is empty, but I hear the sound of retching, then Matthew barking, “Get a grip, Marissa!”
They’re in the hallway, heading toward the noise Skip is making.
I step into the hallway, a half dozen feet behind them. My gun is raised. It’s difficult to shoot a moving target, so I aim for center mass, envisioning a bull’s-eye on the back of Matthew’s light blue shirt.
We move almost in unison toward Matthew’s office, my footsteps light and nearly soundless in my running shoes. I’m like a ghost, creeping unseen behind the Bishops.
As I step into the office, I hear the distant siren of a police car, then see Skip struggling to pull himself through the window.
“Walk toward the window,” Matthew instructs Marissa. “I’ll shoot you now if you don’t.”
“I’ll kill you if you hurt her!” Skip is shouting.
“Actually, it’s going to be the other way around.”
I scan the scene, knowing I’ve only got a few seconds to act. Matthew is going to shoot Marissa just as Skip clears the window and heaves himself into the room. Skip will lunge at Matthew, and Matthew will shoot him, too.
Then Skip stops moving. He has spotted me.
“Look, Matthew, it was my fault, okay? Not hers. You don’t have to do this.”
“Keep walking.”
Marissa steps forward. Skip is trying to distract Matthew, while my gun remains fixed on the invisible bull’s-eye.
I can’t shoot Matthew, though. Marissa is directly in front of him. My bullet would probably tear through him and hit her.
“Marissa picked you, not me.” Skip’s desperate, playing to Matthew’s ego. Skip must have done the mental math, and he knows there is no way he can get to Marissa in time.
“Sure she did,” Matthew replies sarcastically. “Just like my dad prefers me to you. Just like Tina did, too.”
Marissa stops moving.
“Things didn’t end up so well for Tina, either.” Matthew’s tone is pure evil. “Do you know she thought it was you chasing after her when she was sitting on the pier alone that night? She looked so disappointed when she turned around and saw me. But not for long.”
You sick bastard, I think.
Matthew raises his gun slightly, and I know this is it: the moment he’s been planning ever since he discovered his wife and good friend betrayed him. Marissa is completely silent; she must be in shock. Skip is still too far away to help.