Morgan shoved past and heard Gary close the door. There was no time for games or pleasantries—his long sentence confined to the bed had taken enough time, and although it’d given him the time to think, he wished the answers had come sooner. “I know where Cooper Kelley is.”

  “What?”

  “When I was passing out the other night, I heard Arthur St. John talk about the place it all began. I didn’t think anything of it until I woke up this morning, but I think it might help us find them.”

  “Where it all began is—”

  “The place his family was killed. The crash site.”

  “It seems a little too obvious, don’t you think?”

  Morgan shook his head, sweat dripping from it. “Not at all. Think about it: his family was driven off the road by a whole bunch of people. Years later he comes back and starts killing them all in cars. People like him… I mean, it seems like poetic justice, doesn’t it? To end on a high at the one place which stands out as the most life changing of all?”

  “But Cooper isn’t the last survivor. What about Tom?”

  “Who knows if he’ll come back for him? At the moment this is all we’ve got.”

  Gary exhaled, giving an exaggerated blow while scratching his scalp. His eyes perused the floor, rolling up the wall until he tilted his head back and stared up at the ceiling with his mouth wide open. “Ugh… it’s a long shot, but we can check it out. We’ll have to do it fast too. Do you know the exact location? I can drive us there if you—”

  “We need the cops on this one.”

  His head snapped back, and they locked eyes. “You’re sure?”

  There was nothing he was more certain of. Morgan nodded, now far beyond the petty idea of vigilante justice. It was no longer about him, or even about Dusty: Cooper Kelley’s life hung in the balance—if he wasn’t already dead—and that was all that mattered. “Listen, after what happened with the DC Carver, I know better than to hang around and wait for everything to tie up in a neat little bow.”

  “What do you suggest?”

  “I’m going over there.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “As a heart attack.” Morgan knew it was a dumb move, but anything he could do to stall would be helpful. “My car’s parked outside. I’m going to head over there and see what I can do. I want you to get in touch with a backup team and send them over as soon as you can. How long do you think it’ll take?”

  Gary grabbed his coat off the rack and replaced the robe he wore, snapping the collar to stand it up around his neck. “Not long. A few minutes at most. Look, if you’re sure about this, then just be careful. We won’t be far behind you, but you’re not invincible.”

  “I know that,” Morgan said, but he thought back to his last encounter with Arthur St. John. Morgan was no athlete, but he’d gotten away with not being knocked around, and he’d even done pretty well in catching up with the killer. Until that final moment, anyway. Still, it told him that Arthur was a dangerous man to those who’d ruined his life, but to everyone else? He didn’t know if he was capable of hurting an innocent. After all, his murders seemed to be out of a sense of duty to his loved ones. He hadn’t been killing for fun. “Just be quick with that backup, okay? Anything could happen in the meantime.”

  “They won’t take long. Don’t worry.”

  Together, they ran outside and got into their cars. Morgan fired up the engine and sped away, while Gary disappeared from sight behind him. He was probably calling for backup, Morgan figured—and hoped, considering he was now completely alone, racing toward a killer and his next victim.

  And that was the one thing that stood stubbornly in the forefront of his mind: there was no way to know for sure if Cooper had been killed yet. Hell, there was even a chance that they had the wrong place altogether—this could all have been one intricate ploy to lead them in one direction while Arthur headed off in another. All Morgan could do was steady his breathing while he made the journey, hoping beyond hope that he didn’t arrive to find a dead body.

  If so, he would never be able to forgive himself; he was supposed to protect Cooper, and so far he’d done nothing but fail in that, the same way he’d failed to look after Dusty. It was all coming full circle, and the last thing he wanted was to make the same mistake twice, letting yet another innocent man die because of one tragic accident.

  An accident that had ruined a man.

  Morgan drove on, forcing these thoughts aside.

  It was all he could do not to scream until his lungs gave out.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  He’d parked right where his family had died, on a part of the road that overlooked a fifty-foot drop onto a strip of highway. Ten years ago, he’d rolled down that hill, terrified for his life and the lives of those he loved. Arthur remembered hanging upside down, panting, letting his brain catch up with what happened before finally turning, turning to see…

  “It’s time to get out.”

  Arthur reached deep into the trunk and grabbed Cooper by his sweater. He dug his nails in and hauled with all his might, dragging his wiggling body onto the ground with a thud and then pulling him toward the driver’s side door. Cooper made noises under the thin rag he’d used for a gag, but Arthur ignored it and proceeded to lift him into the seat. There was no reason he should take pity on the guy now—his family hadn’t been given that mercy, so why should he? This was a necessary course of action.

  While his victim continued to protest, Arthur St. John kept in mind that he had a gun in his pocket. That, he’d gotten from a street merchant who sold more than just CDs and DVDs. In the other he had a knife, which he was far more willing to use. He pulled it out and showed the blade to Cooper, twisting it under the sunlight that now beamed off the sharp edge. “I don’t want to cut you, but if you don’t stop making this so difficult, I’ll have to.”

  Cooper silenced then, tears streaming down his cheeks as Arthur closed the door and returned to the trunk where he took out a roll of duct tape. There’d been no time to find more handcuffs—at least not ones that couldn’t be traced back to him—so this had to suffice. It didn’t matter much to him anyway. His work was nearly done.

  Shutting the trunk, Arthur climbed into the passenger seat and leaned over, forcing Cooper’s hands onto the wheel. He looped the roll in circles, tightening the bond until he was certain those hands were going nowhere. When that was done, he started to get out of the car to check his alignment with the rocks below, but a singular thought stopped him.

  Arthur hesitated, then turned and took out the blade.

  Cooper’s eyes widened and he shook his head frantically from side to side.

  “Don’t move,” Arthur told him, gripping Cooper’s jaw between a thumb and forefinger. Pinning him down, he swiped the knife, slashing a thin slit of tape between the guy’s lips. He watched him shake, sucking up air through the newly formed hole. It was pathetic. “Do you know why this is happening to you?”

  “Y-Yes.”

  “Then you’ll know there’s no getting out of this.”

  “Please…”

  “Spare me your begging.” Arthur rolled his eyes and sat back, looking out over the dashboard, where normal, everyday life continued without him. Cars traveled down the road below, some heading into the city, while others headed out. He wondered where those people were going. Were they starting new lives? Making a long commute to work? Perhaps some of them were traveling to see friends, he thought. They were all normal things. Arthur remembered when his life had been normal. Before all this. Before the agony. “You know, Tom Walker did a shitty job of covering for you. As soon as I had him, he gave your name up really easily.”

  Cooper’s breathing was hard and unsteady, his chest rising and falling under his thin, gaunt face. He looked away, sobbing while he gazed out onto the road, probably looking for some kind of rescue party that wasn’t going to come.

  “See, after everything you did, you still can’t look me in the eye.”

  In a flash, Cooper turned and looked. “I’m sorry, okay? It was an accident!”

  “Accidents like that don’t happen around here.”

  “But it did. Y-You talk as if we didn’t all lose something. We got hurt too, you know. Look, I’m sorry about what happened to your family—I really am—but it’s not like we got into that car knowing it would happen. Please, just let me go and I’ll find a way to make it up to you. Whatever I can do to make amends, just tell me and we can—”

  “You think you can fix this?” Rage burned inside Arthur. His entire body filled with fire that roared as it erupted through his voice. “Huh? You think you can repair this kind of damage, you little shit? Look what you’ve done to me! I’m a killer because of you!”

  Crying harder, Cooper turned away again. He must have seen that his pleas were no good. How could they be? All he’d done was try to excuse himself for the mistake he’d made all those years ago. And to think, he hadn’t even had the balls to stay in the car and own up to what he’d done. No, some other poor guy had leapt into his seat, protecting this monster.

  It was no use. Arthur knew at this point that there was no getting through to him. If Cooper was really sorry he’d have confessed long ago, submitting himself to the courts for a fair trial. Instead, he’d continued his meaningless life like the loser he was. For years, Arthur had woken up each morning wondering if the people in that car still thought about him—if they thought about what they’d cost him. Now, as he was facing the final sinner, it dawned on him that his loss was nothing more than a passing thought to them.

  “I just want to know one thing,” he said, lowering the knife.

  Cooper sniffled, but he didn’t look.

  “Do you feel responsible for the death of your friends?”

  “You killed them. Not me.”

  “And why did I kill them?”

  “Because you’re sick.”

  Arthur shot forward and grabbed his hair. With all his strength, he shoved his head into the window. A deafening crack came with the collision. Blood painted the glass where a thin line opened into a larger crack. It looked like a snowflake. “I killed them because they deserved it. I killed them because every one of them got into that car and didn’t try to stop you. You didn’t even have a license, did you? You didn’t even properly know how to drive. So, did you think about the safety of others when you got behind the wheel? I’m guessing not.”

  Cooper shook his head, making a wheezing sound. “Just… let me go.”

  “No.” Arthur shook his head. “We’re past that. Way, way past that.”

  Without wasting another moment, he climbed out and shut the door, ignoring the cries that came from inside. With all that was about to happen, he took one last breath of fresh air while he walked to the back of the car and got ready to push. This was it: the moment had finally come that he could say he hadn’t let them die without consequence, and although one still lived, he knew he’d at least made them all suffer.

  All he had to do was give one little push.

  And then commit his final act.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Morgan had lost Gary some time ago, but although he knew they’d both still make it, he couldn’t help but feel alone. His eyes kept darting toward the vanity mirror, searching for his best friend: the man with the gun. Gary was his safety blanket, among other things, and to have him lag so far behind only made him more anxious for what was coming.

  As he got nearer to the place where it all began, Morgan saw a parked car overlooking a steep drop onto the highway. There was a winding road that led up behind him, made mostly of rocks and gravel. This must be the place, he thought as he pushed on the accelerator to reach his destination. He could see how easy it would be to lose control of a car here, but he sped up anyway. If he could do anything to keep Cooper safe, he was going to try it.

  The closer he got, the more he saw. Morgan peered over the steering wheel and squinted through the winter sun. Up ahead, Arthur had one hand on a gun and one on the trunk of a car, doubled over like he was about to push it. Morgan shifted into fifth, spraying dirt from under the tires. He was nearly there now, and the figure stood up straight, staring in his direction with his hands in his pockets.

  “Arthur,” he mumbled under a ragged breath.

  This was it. The moment of truth.

  Morgan slowed the car to a stop and got out slowly with his hands above his head. He exchanged stares with Arthur, who looked like he’d been awake for days. His bloodshot eyes were fixed inside a pale, gaunt face, his beard scruffier now than the last time they’d met. He was a dangerous-looking mess of a man. He quickly drew a hand from his pocket to reveal a handgun. He took aim but didn’t fire. Not yet anyway.

  “Don’t come any closer,” he called above the nearby passing of cars.

  You don’t have to tell me twice, Morgan thought as he took slow, steady sidesteps while his heart pounded its way up into his throat. He leaned just a little, looking into Arthur St. John’s car for any sign of Cooper. The sun bounced off the windshield, making it hard to discern anything at all, but he could make out a pair of hands on the steering wheel. “Is he all right?”

  Arthur glanced toward the car, his shaking hand taking firmer grip on the hilt of the pistol. “He’s alive. For now. What’s it to you?”

  “Call me a concerned citizen.”

  “I’ll call you a dead citizen if you don’t stand back.”

  Morgan eased off, keeping his back flat against the back door of his own car. Seeing him now, clear as daylight with the final victim beside him, Morgan didn’t think of him as a killer or a maniac—he was just a man in an incredible amount of pain. Like Morgan had been at the news of his cousin’s death. Like his Aunt Gladys had been when he’d seen her at the wake. “I’m not going to stand in your way, Arthur, but I want you to listen to me for just a little while, and then you can think this through rationally.”

  “I’ve thought it through. For ten years.”

  “And this is what you came up with?”

  “You don’t know how much they took from me.”

  Morgan nodded slowly, his hands still raised as he took a very slow and very cautious step forward. The last thing he wanted was to get shot, but something told him this man could still relate to another human being. Call it a look in his eye or just plain naivety, but Morgan had a faint hope that he could talk him down. Meanwhile, he kept his ears pricked for the sound of police backup behind him.

  There was nothing.

  “I know what they took,” he told Arthur. “Your wife. Your daughter. Their reckless driving cost you a great deal, and I know what that loss feels like. Your first victim, Dylan Young, was my cousin and a damn good friend. If you don’t think that hurt me, then think again.”

  Arthur’s eyes shone with a hint of tears. He stomped forward two steps, keeping the gun trained on Morgan while frequently glancing over at the car. “You’re lying.”

  “I’m not. And what’s more? I don’t want to take revenge on you.”

  “Good, because you’re doing a bad job of it.”

  “But I was hoping we could just talk. How about that?”

  Arthur’s eyes shot over Morgan’s shoulder, widening in an instant. Recognition flashed within them, and he snarled, storming back to the car where he stood by the driver’s side window and reallocated his aim to Cooper Kelley’s head. “You brought the cops.”

  Saying nothing, Morgan craned his neck to see Gary’s car racing toward them. Behind him, four police cars kept close to his tail. They looked like a small army coming to dispatch the villain, and Morgan hadn’t been so happy to see anything in his entire life. “They had to come. You’re about to kill a man, and that’s illegal. You understand that, don’t you?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “So… put down the gun.”

  “No chance.”

  The cars arrived a moment later, skidding to a stop as police officers launched themselves from the seats and drew their sidearms, taking aim on Arthur. Gary stopped close to them both, his own gun in his hand and fixed on the same target. It’d taken less than thirty seconds for a calm scene to become chaos, and Morgan knew immediately that his chances of settling this calmly had long since passed. All the same, as much as he wanted this to be over, he just didn’t want it to end in bloodshed.

  As a protest, he waved his arms and stepped into their line of sight. “Hold your fire!”

  “Out of the way,” Gary said. “I have a clear shot.”

  “I don’t want you to shoot this man.”

  Gary crooked an eyebrow, tilting his head to the side. He lowered his voice. “What?”

  “Just… give me a minute.”

  Sighing, Gary made a hand gesture to the team. “Hold your fire.”

  “Thank you.”

  Morgan turned back toward Arthur St. John, who continued to press the barrel of his gun at Cooper Kelley’s head. Lowering his hands slowly, Morgan stepped around the car, inching closer to the man who’d killed all those people. “Take it easy, all right?”

  “Wh-What happened? Why aren’t they shooting?”

  “Because I asked them not to.”

  “Why?”

  Morgan raised his hands in an I-don’t-know gesture. “You deserve a chance to turn yourself in. Nobody else has to die, and that includes you. So why don’t you just lower the gun and come quietly? We can figure this out.”

  “We can’t.” Arthur shook his head, his eyes turning redder as he ground his teeth. He looked out among the sea of police officers, evidently learning now that there was no way he could win this one. From there, it could go either way. “I need this.”

  “And I understand that.”

  “You do?”

  “Come on,” Morgan said, fighting through his anxiety and forcing out a smile that probably looked as false as it felt. “You murdered my cousin, made me drink poison, and then pointed a gun at me. If anyone can relate to feeling bitter, it’s me. But you know what? It’s okay. I can let it go, and in time you can too.”

 

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