Chapter Thirty-one
He thought about just killing them both. Not with the gun—too much noise. But he had Dead Jane’s knife, and he had other ways.
Wouldn’t it be fun to watch her face when she came home and saw their bloody bodies?
But that’s what happened with—what was the little bitch’s name? Who cares. It hadn’t been enough, just not painful enough.
This time, he’d make her watch him kill them. That way when he killed her, she’d have those images in her head.
She’d suffer, and she needed to suffer. She’d pay, and she needed to pay.
He had an ugly scar on his arm—her fault. He’d gained weight—her fault. And just a few hours before, one of his back teeth had started aching. Her fault.
Every hour he’d spent in a musty motel room, every mile he’d driven in some piece-of-shit truck or van, her fault.
He deserved the best, had earned the best. And once he killed her, it would all come back. All his bad luck lived in her.
He’d had the bitches drag the nice, sturdy dining room chairs into the living room, then made the old one zip-tie the other one to a chair. He’d had to give her a couple of smacks, but he didn’t mind that.
He’d zip-tied old Grandma himself, nice and tight, then used a roll of duct tape for good measure. They’d tried to talk with him, all quiet voices or tearful pleas, so he’d just slapped more duct tape over their mouths.
He paced awhile, scoping out the house, shoving popcorn in his mouth.
When he heard the chairs rattling, he went back in.
“Keep it up and we’ll see how you like a bullet in the knee, or maybe the gut.” He sat on the sofa facing them, the popcorn bowl in his lap. “When she comes in, she’ll see you. That’s phase one. She’ll know it’s her fault. It’s all her fault. Do you have any idea what she cost me? What she took from me?”
As anger built up, the rage spewed out. “I’ve been living like some derelict, some failure, and she’s living here? I bet she’s got a big, soft bed upstairs—I’ll take a look later. Big, old house—got some antiques, I see, some fricking heirlooms. How come she gets that when she ruined my life? I’m here to take it back, you get that? I’m taking it all back.”
He reached for more popcorn, found the bowl empty, and threw it across the room. Glass shattered, flew.
In a flash, his face went from fury to calm and contemplative.
“Now I’m thirsty. Let’s see what you’ve got, and if I hear a sound in here, Morgan’ll find you both dead in a pool of blood.”
When they heard him moving around in the kitchen, Olivia shifted again—quietly—so Audrey could try to maneuver her hand, her fingers, to pull the cell phone from her mother’s pocket.
The hard plastic tie dug into her wrist, drew blood, but she kept trying, felt her heart pounding when her fingers brushed against the top edge.
Then they heard him coming back.
“You bitches are loaded.” He took a long pull from a bottle of Coke. “Some nice wine in there, but I’ll save that for after. I need a clear head to do my work. And speaking of loaded.”
He strode over, ripped the tape from Olivia’s mouth, beamed at the shock of pain that ran over her face. “This house is worth a bundle, and you’ve got a whole lot more tucked into brokerage accounts, business accounts. No reason in this world a woman like you should have all that. Money’s a man’s privilege, Granny.”
“I’ll sign it all over to you. You can walk away with every penny and disappear. Live the life you deserve.”
“That’s what they all say—if I give them the chance. I don’t want you to give me a fucking thing. I take. Understand?”
He closed his hand over her throat. “Understand!”
When she nodded, he released the pressure. “I bet you’ve got a nice laptop. You’re going to tell me where it is, tell me the password, or I’m going to get one of those plastic bags you’ve got in the kitchen, put it over this one’s head. And you can watch me smother her to death.”
She told him.
When he went to get it, Audrey tried for the phone again.
Bailey stayed to close the bar with Morgan.
“You keep in touch,” Morgan told her. “I want to hear how school’s going, the job’s going—because you will get it—how everything’s going.”
“I will. Promise. I’m excited to go back, but I’m going to miss you, and everyone. Maybe you can save a slot for me at the bar over winter break.”
“If you want it, you’ve got it.”
Bailey took a last look around. “Summer’s really over.”
“She’s got a little life in her yet, but yeah, you can feel her starting to bow out. It’ll be my first autumn in Vermont.”
“I didn’t realize that.”
“Army, school. So Christmas, some summer visits. I’m looking forward to it.” And to all the autumns that came after. “Ready?”
“Yeah. Until winter break.”
They walked out together. Morgan saw Deputy Howe leaning on his patrol car, talking with one of the night security team.
Routine now, she thought. Cops and guards, all routine.
Bailey turned, wrapped her in a hug. “Please stay safe.”
“That’s the plan. And you kick grad school’s butt.”
“Also the plan.”
She walked to her car. “Jerry, Deputy.”
“Night, Morgan. You drive safe now.”
“Hard to do otherwise with a cop in my rearview.”
As she drove, she let the work portion of the day slide away, let herself think about the next. Some laundry, a hair appointment where she intended to show the stylist the type of dress she had in mind so they could strategize wedding hair.
Nell had recommended a photographer—one her ladies agreed on as well. She needed to set up an appointment. She knew a lot of couples did engagement photos, but she didn’t think she and Miles were that couple.
And she had the selfies from the hike.
The little spikes of annoyance she’d felt for him earlier had smoothed right over. He worried, she reminded herself, because he loved her. If she accepted love—and boy, did she—then she accepted what came with it.
Maybe she thought the unsafe word silly, but it could be something they’d laugh about years from now. While Rozwell sat in a maximum security prison.
He waited up for her texts. He didn’t say so, but he must, as he answered them within seconds. Just: Get some sleep. Or: Talk tomorrow. Never just: Good night.
But he waited every night they weren’t together until he knew she’d gotten home safe. She should be grateful.
“I am grateful.”
She pulled into her driveway, locked her car. Deputy Howe idled the patrol car at the foot of the drive while she walked to the door. When she unlocked it, opened it, she turned, waved. Shut the door behind her, reset the alarm.
She started to walk straight to the stairs and up, but a sound from the living room had her glancing over.
And everything inside her turned to ice.
She saw the bruises on her mother’s face, on her grandmother’s, the fear and grief in their eyes.
Laughing like a lunatic, Rozwell jumped up from his hiding place behind the sofa. “Surprise!” he shouted, waving a gun in one hand, a knife in the other. “Go ahead and scream, go on and make a move, and I slit their throats, shoot you, and I’m gone before you hit the floor.”
Whatever it took, whatever it cost, he wouldn’t hurt her ladies.
“I’m not going to scream, Gavin. What’s the point in that? And you won’t shoot me. It’s not your style. It’s lazy.” She looked into his eyes. If she looked into her mother’s, she’d fall apart. “You’re not lazy, and you haven’t come all this way to shoot me and be done with it.”
“You think you’re so smart.”
“Smart enough, but you’re the smart one. You know there’s nothing I can do when you have my family. As long as they’re alive, there’s nothing I can do.”
Alive, keep them alive. It was all she had.
“That’s right, you bitch. You can’t do anything. I’m in charge. I’m always in charge. Hey, did you like the flowers?”
“No.”
He’d gone back to the blond hair, but it no longer shone, and the cut was uneven, choppy. She could see he’d put on makeup, and where he’d rubbed at it, the redness—too much desert sun—came through. He no longer looked fit and stylish, but doughy and rumpled.
He had an ugly scar on his arm, puckered and puffy.
She tried to remember everything Jen had taught her. She couldn’t run. No one would hear her scream. She couldn’t hide.
She promised herself she’d fight if she got the chance.
He’d played her once, she thought. She’d play him now.
“You wanted to scare me. You did. You want to scare me now. You are. I can’t be worth the risk you’re taking, Gavin. I’m nobody.”
“You ruined my life.”
“I didn’t—”
She broke off when the phone in her pocket signaled a text. And the gun he held pointed—rock steady now—at her face.
Slowly, she lifted her hands. “It’s my phone. In my pocket. I won’t touch it.”
“Who the hell’s calling you? It’s two in the morning.”
“It’s a text—that’s a text. It’s nothing. I won’t touch it.”
He took one step back, jammed the gun under her mother’s chin. “Who’d text you at two in the morning? Fuck with me, I blow her head off.”
“All right. Please. It’s my fiancé. I text him when I get home, to let him know I’m home. Don’t hurt her, Gavin. I’m telling you, if I don’t text back I’m okay, he’ll call the cops. You don’t want that. I’ll show you. Let me show you.”
“Bring me the fucking phone.”
“I’m reaching for it. I’m going to give it to you.”
But his hands held the gun, the knife. She counted on it, so held out the screen so he could read the text from Miles.
Where the hell are you?
“Asshole. Answer. Stand right here where I can see what you say. Fuck around and find out, Morgan.”
“I won’t. She’s my mother. I won’t.”
“Yeah? I killed my mother. Fuck around and you kill yours.
sorry. She kept the screen angled so he could see. closing took a little longer but im home now say good night to howl and get some sleep love you.
“Who the fuck is Howl?”
“It’s his dog.” Letting tears swirl, Morgan blurted it out when he jerked her mother’s head back. “It’s just his dog. It’s just something we say. He’d wonder if I didn’t. Please. I did what you told me to do.”
The phone signaled again. Praying, her hand shaking now, Morgan held the screen for Rozwell to read.
I’ll do that. Good night.
He heard me, she thought. He heard me.
“Drop the phone.”
When she did, he stomped on it.
“Now unless you want my finger to twitch, step back.”
Miles was out of his house and in his car within thirty seconds.
As Morgan sent the text, Beck and Morrison got off the plane in Middlebury.
The head of the ground crew greeted them. “FBI. Coming in late.”
“Weather in Indianapolis, delayed takeoff.”
“Yeah, we got word on that. They sent a car for you.” He gestured, then handed them the key fob. “We’ll get your bags loaded in for you.”
“The resort’s what, twenty, twenty-five minutes out, right?” Morrison asked.
“This time of night, twenty’ll do it. Funny thing. You’re the second private to come in from Indianapolis tonight. First one got out before the weather.”
“Wait.” Beck gripped his arm. “You had another private out of Indianapolis? How many passengers?”
“Just the one. Some dude. Rich dude. Had a Mercedes C-Class rental waiting. Hey! Your bags!” he shouted as they raced for the car.
“Call Chief Dooley.” Beck jumped behind the wheel.
“I’m on it.”
As he sped through town, Miles called Jake.
“He’s got her.”
“What? Nathan reported in. He watched her go in the house just minutes ago.”
“He’s got her. He’s inside. Get there.”
“Wait for me.”
“No.”
“Goddamn it.” Jake dragged on clothes. And so did Nell.
“I’m going with you.”
“No, you’re not.”
“I have my own car, so I ride with you or alone. But I’m going. This is family.”
Morgan did step back, and kept her hands up in a gesture of submission. “I know you’ve been through a lot this last year. Year and a half.”
“You don’t know anything.”
“I know you didn’t want Nina. You wanted me.”
“That’s her name! Jesus, it was driving me crazy.”
“I broke your streak, and you haven’t been able to live your life the way you want to since.”
“The way I deserve.”
“Yes, there’s that. And I’ve been living mine. It’s really not fair. Sure, I lost my house, my savings, all of that, but here I am.”
She spread her arms, stepped back again. Bring him to you, she thought. Away from them.
“Living that life in this beautiful house. I bought a new car. But you know that. You know everything about me. You know I’ve got a hot fiancé. A rich one.”
“Diddling the boss, Morgan.” His lip curled. “It’s so tired.”
“Not when it works.” She lifted her shoulders, let them fall. “And he has this amazing house. I’ve got a thing for houses—you know that. And look at this.”
She held up a hand, wiggled her fingers so the diamond glinted. “Honestly, Gavin, when it comes down to it, I owe you for all of it. There I was, slaving away at two jobs, pinching every penny, living in that little box. Then you came along.”
She moved back another step.
“Then I broke your streak. Sent your luck right down the toilet. Had the feds sniffing at your heels. You left me messages with the locket, with the bracelet. Message received.”
“They should’ve been you.”
“But they weren’t. You used your hands on them because that’s what you need. Not a gun, not a knife. It doesn’t work for you unless you use your hands. It has to be personal, especially with me. It has to be intimate. That gun’s beneath you, and it won’t give you what you need. We both know it.”
“I don’t need a fucking gun.” He set it on the mantel behind him. “I don’t need a fucking knife.” And stuck it in the sheath on his belt.
“I know, Gavin. I’ve dreamed of your hands around my throat. I’ve dreamed of begging you to let me live this life I’ve started, one you gave me. But you never do.”
Now he smiled, stepped slowly toward her.
“Beg me now. I want to hear you beg.”
“Please don’t hurt me. Take whatever you want, but please don’t hurt me.”
“I’m going to take what I want. Finally.”
She sucked in air as if to scream when his hands closed around her throat.
Then she did exactly as she’d been taught.
She brought her knee up hard as she dug her thumbs into his eyes.
And he’s the one who screamed.
When his grip loosened, just a little, she drove the heel of her hand to his nose, watched the blood spurt, felt it on her face.
Then she drew back with all she had, rammed her fist into his throat.
When he went down, she ran for the gun, but he grabbed her foot, sent her sprawling. Instinct as much as those lessons had her kicking back. They screamed together when her foot connected with his broken nose.
When the door crashed open, she thought it was him and scrambled up, grabbed the gun.
She’d never held one, never expected to, but whirled with it. Only to see Miles standing over Rozwell, fists clenched and ready.
“Miles. Miles, please take this. Please.”
“Point it down, Morgan. You’re okay. It’s okay now.”
The minute he had the gun, she dropped down to pull the tape off her mother’s mouth. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It’ll hurt.”
She pulled it off, did the same with her grandmother’s.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
“Stop that,” Olivia ordered.
“You saved us. Baby, my baby. You saved us.”
Seconds later, Jake came in, weapon drawn, then lowered it when he surveyed the scene. “Well, Christ on a crutch. Nell, call for an ambulance.”
“He can wait,” she said as she walked in behind Jake.
“Nell, for God’s sake.”
“Shut up, Miles. I’ll get something to cut them loose. I’ll find something.”
“First drawer next to the kitchen door,” Olivia said steadily, though her eyes filled with tears. “And we could use some water. Please.”
“I’ll get that. He’s got a knife on his belt, Jake.”
“Yeah, I see it. I’ll get it. Feds are coming,” he said as Miles handed the gun he held to Jake and went for the water. “They contacted me right after Miles did. Morgan, did you do all this?”
She looked down at Rozwell and nodded.
“Good job. Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Ladies, are you hurt?”
“He slapped us around some. He hurt Audrey more than me.”
“Their wrists and ankles are raw, Jake.” With the clippers, Nell crouched down to snip the ties.
“First aid kit.” Closing her eyes in relief, Audrey wrapped her aching arms around her mother and her daughter. “Mudroom cabinet, over the dryer. We’re okay. We’re all okay.”
Rozwell groaned when Jake cuffed him.
“He’s not.” Olivia’s hand shook a little as she took the glass of water Miles offered. “He came up against a Nash woman. You had his number, Morgan. She had his number. Got him to put the gun down, the knife down. Smart, and brave, and strong,” she managed, and finally began to weep.
Morgan looked up at Miles. “You heard me.”
“I heard you.”
“I heard you back. I knew you’d come.” She pushed up to stand, swayed a little. “My legs are going.”
“I’ve got you.” He pulled her to him, held, pressed his face to her hair. “I’ve got you.”
Beck and Morrison arrived before the ambulance, walked through the broken door.
Rozwell lay curled on the floor, eyes going black, nose swollen, blood dripping. Audrey and Olivia sat hip-to-hip on the sofa while Nell tended their wrists.
“Miles, we could use an ice bag or two.”
“I’ll get them. I know where they are.”
When he heard her voice, Rozwell tried to focus on her. “I’ll kill you.”
“No.” Miles moved into his sight line. “You won’t. She beat you. You get to live with that. Morgan Nash beat you.”
“Are you hurt?” Beck asked her.
“No. I’m all right,” Morgan insisted. “We’re all right,” she told the agents. “I need to get the ice.”
“So we see,” Morrison said. “Good work, Chief.”
“Not me. Morgan. She’s got some blood on her, and it’s all his. We’ve got an ambulance coming—and here it comes,” he added as he heard the siren. “He needs medical attention. Busted nose for sure, his throat’s bruised up, and his eyes bled some. Jaw might be busted.”
“I’ll go with him.” Morrison nodded at Beck. “You got the scene?”
“I’ve got it. First, I’m going to apologize for being two steps behind.”
“No.” Morgan came back in. “That’s just not true. You stuck with me all along. And if you hadn’t, if you hadn’t let me know so much, I wouldn’t have been able to do this. To string him out. If you hadn’t been behind him, kept him running, he would’ve come here long before this. Long before I was ready.”
“I can wish we’d taken him before you had to be ready. It can wait until morning if you’d rather, but I need statements.”
“Here, Mom.” Morgan laid an ice bag gently against her mother’s temple. “I don’t know how he got in, but when I got home, just before two, he had them in those chairs. Zip ties and duct tape. Gram.” She laid the second on Olivia’s bruised cheek. “I’ll make some tea.”
“Screw tea. Get me a whiskey. A double.” She gripped her daughter’s hand. “Make that two.”
At dawn, just as light sprinkled in the east, Morgan sat outside, drinking wine with Miles. Howl, fetched by Nell, lay sleeping under the table, one paw on her feet.
“They’re finally sleeping. I wish they’d gone to the hospital.”
“No way they’d leave you, or this house. And the EMTs cleared them both.”
“I know. I know. I just…” She tried to shove it aside. “First time I’ve had wine at dawn,” she said instead.
“Long night.”
“That stupid unsafe word wasn’t so stupid after all.”
“I’d have known anyway. You didn’t use any punctuation, no uppercase letters. That’s not how you text.”
“I wasn’t sure you’d notice that. Glad you did. I knew you were coming when you said good night. You never text good night.”
“It’s not a real good one when you’re somewhere else.”
Reaching out, she gripped his hand, and her voice went thick. “That explains that.”
“Try not to cry, okay? I’m worn pretty thin myself. I’m buying Jen the biggest arrangement of flowers ever known to man.” He kissed the hand that gripped his. “You cleaned his clock, champ.”
“I was so mad, Miles. Seeing them like that, helpless, bruised, bleeding. He wasn’t going to do to them what he did to Nina. And I could see he was weak and jittery, and really angry. I just had to listen and talk and gauge. I just had to be a really good bartender.” She lifted her wine, sipped. “Then do what Jen taught me and clean his clock.”
“You beat me to it. That doesn’t seem quite fair.”
“You broke down the door.”
“Yeah. I’ll fix it. I thought I knew how much I loved you before I got that text. I didn’t. My world just dropped away for a minute. Just went out from under me. Don’t do that to me again.”
“That’s definitely not in the plans. He’ll never get out. Later, I’m going to call Sam, tell him. He deserves to know. And Nina’s family. Sam should go tell them in person. Then we don’t have to think about him again.”
“I’m taking the day off. You’re taking the night off.”
“I don’t have anyone to cover the bar.”
“Nell will find someone to cover. That’s her job. Your job right now is to get some sleep, look after your ladies, let them look after you. Mine’s to do all of that and fix that door.”
She felt a little floaty, as if she stood just an inch outside herself.
“You’re rolling over me again.”
“Because you need it. You can roll over me when I need it.”
“That sounds like a reasonable deal. But let’s watch the day come before we go in. Let’s just watch it come. It’s the first day.”
So they did.