“I don’t think so,” the voice says, peculiarly calm. “I came home and Ella Monroe and her boyfriend were in my house. Everyone knows she’s a basket case. Your colleague arrived and they stabbed him.”
A ray of light from outside crosses his face. “You came to warn me.” He approaches her. He’s holding a hunting knife.
Dale Steadman is delusional. His story will never hold water. But it will be too late for Keller before he understands this.
As he leans over her, she closes her eyes.
But they pop open to the sound of a roar in the dark, a man’s voice, desperate and primal, and she sees a form fly across the room.
Steadman crashes to the floor.
She hears a struggle, furniture cracking, and somehow climbs to her feet, the pain nearly causing her to black out.
Headlights from a car outside fill the room. Chris Whitaker is on the floor with Steadman, bloody and battered and fighting for the knife. Before Keller can locate her gun, Chris wails in agony as the blade thrusts into his chest.
Steadman pushes him off and locks eyes with Keller. She’s nearly at the gun, but the room is moving sideways. She’s unsteady on her feet. She manages to scoop up the gun, her index finger sliding over the trigger. But a split second later, Steadman slams her against the wall, the pain blinding as the arrow touches the wall and pushes in deeper.
When Keller’s vision returns, she’s lost hold of the gun, and Steadman stands before her clasping a knife.
“It’s over,” he says, his dead eyes staring into hers.
But Keller isn’t listening to him. She reaches behind her and pulls out the arrow. Before Steadman’s mind can fathom what she’s up to, she rams the arrowhead upward into the soft triangle under his chin.
He gags and topples into her.
Keller tries to push him away, but can’t.
She can feel the blood gushing from her now. She feels faint.
Still pressed against her, Steadman is releasing a horrible gurgling sound. He lurches forward, puts his hands around her neck.
She’s trying to gasp for air but he’s squeezing too tight. She’s losing consciousness. But at once his body jerks, he releases his hold, and he crumples to the floor. Behind him, Ella still clutches the spear that is jutting from Steadman’s back until she too hits the floor.
The next images come in waves, as if under a strobe light.
The room filling with figures.
Stan.
Hal.
Arpeggio.
A medic with a concerned look on her face.
Keller sees the darkened ceiling … she’s being carried away on a stretcher. She shifts painfully to look around her.
She passes Atticus, who isn’t moving … Chris, who isn’t moving … Ella, who isn’t moving.
And then everything goes dark.
EPILOGUE
ONE YEAR LATER
Keller waves to Bob, who’s pushing a double stroller that nearly takes up the entire sidewalk. He has an overstuffed diaper bag slung over his shoulder. She’s told him he doesn’t need to do this, but he brings the twins for lunch near her office every Wednesday. It’s a production, getting them seated at the diner, but he insists.
After the nightmare of folding the stroller, wiping down the table, setting up the baby seats, and having toys at the ready before one of them starts up, they finally look at their menus.
“You don’t have to do this, you know,” she says.
“I get an afternoon away from the moms at the park, and I get to see my favorite G-woman, why would I not?” He’s wearing a concert T-shirt and for a moment she’s taken back to their first date. Him fawning over her job, never once talking about himself, a rarity in the dating scene. He left his job shortly after the kids were born. When Keller was in the hospital that terrible night—when things were touch and go for both her and the twins—he told her he’d made a deal with God. If they got through this, all of them, then he would dedicate every second of his life to taking care of his family. He’s a tad dramatic, her husband.
“I have news,” Keller says.
He looks at her, waiting.
“Stan is transferring to the New York City field office. He’ll still be a SAC, but they’re grooming him to be the A-DIC.”
“Who came up with all these acronyms? They sound like jobs on a porn set.”
Keller smiles despite herself. “He wants me to come with him.”
Bob thinks about this. “What do you want to do?”
“I wanted to talk with you.”
“I’m a moron. Why would you want to do that?”