“I’m sure.The key, please.”
He shrugged and fished a plastic card from the pocket of what were apparentlynotboxers.“That’s the master key.It’ll open every door in the place.”
Kate took the key, tried not to think about the origin of the sticky substance on the plastic, and headed into the building.Behind her, the police lieutenant muttered, “Uppity bitch,” under his breath.Misogyny in law enforcement at its finest.
Kate entered the motel, which was decorated with wallpaper sporting coconut palms, surfboards, and crude drawings of misshapen dark-skinned women in bikinis.Because the one thing everyone associated with Pennsylvania was fun in the tropical sun.
A placard on the hallway past the lobby informed her that room fourteen was to her right, so she headed that way.Several other residents were in the hallway listening to the commotion coming through the door.When they saw Kate, they started to exclaim, but she chopped her hand for quiet and lifted her finger to her lips.A few of them crowded closer, and she shooed them away.
She stopped outside the door, held the card to the reader, and winced when it beeped.Fortunately, the beep came at the same time as the suspect shouted, “No!It’s too late!I’m damned!”
“You’re not damned,” Marcus said.“Hell, no one would blame you for what you did.You walked in on your husband getting a blowjob from another woman.Of course you went a little nutzo for a minute.”
Kate rolled her eyes.Jesus, Marcus, real tactful.
She pushed the door open a crack and got her first look at Rosalyn Pierce.She looked exactly as she had in her picture, short, not fat but plump around her hips.Her breasts were indeed very large, but they were modestly covered in a long-sleeved shirt.Her curly hair was matted and plastered to her neck and cheeks, and tears streamed from bloodshot eyes.
She held a knife to her throat and stared through the window at Marcus and an older woman in a police uniform who Kate guessed was the negotiator.The hand holding the knife was slick with blood and sported several cuts, some of which were scabbed up and some of which had been torn open, probably from when she stabbed her husband to death.“I know.I know, but I loved him.I just don’t understand.”
“Come talk to me,” Marcus said soothingly.“Let’s work this out together.You don’t need to do this.”
Kate pushed the door open all the way and crept into the room.Rosalyn was about eight feet in front of her.All she had to do was look right, and she’d see Kate.
Marcus recognized that and angled off.Rosalyn, keeping her focus on him and the officers arrayed outside of her window, turned away from Kate.He stopped and lifted his hands.“It’s okay.Everything’s going to be all right.”
Kate moved until she was three feet behind Rosalyn.The weeping widow spluttered.“It’s not.It’s not all right.He’s dead.I’m—”
Kate sprung forward, grabbing the wrist holding the knife in both of hers and spinning around.She threw the shrieking Rosalyn over her hip and planted her knee on the woman’s chest, still holding the knife.Rosalyn raked at her face with her other hand, but Kate was able to twist her upper body and keep herself out of the reach of the diminutive Rosalyn.
Marcus leaped through the window and grabbed Rosalyn’s other arm.With both her arms trapped, the fight went out of her.She went limp, weeping and mumbling over and over, “I’m damned.I’m damned.”
When she was cuffed, and the would-be suicide weapon in Kate’s custody, the two FBI agents shared a look.Marcus’s was full of sadness and sympathy.Kate couldn’t bring herself to the same place.There was no excuse for cheating, but there was no excuse for murder.Rosalyn could have handled this any other way, but she chose to kill her husband and write a Bible verse on the wall in his blood.
It wasn’t Kate’s place to judge, but as Rosalyn continued to moan that she was damned, Kate found herself agreeing.
***
Two hours later, the two agents were enjoying—well, drinking—coffee in the breakroom of the Allegheny County Sheriff’s Office.Rosalyn Pierce had calmed down by the time they reached the station and come clean to the investigators.
It was exactly what it looked like.She caught him cheating, went hysterical, stabbed him to death, then wrote the commandment on the wall and fled the house.She’d continued to drive around for a while before stopping at the motel when her car was low on gas.The knife she planned to kill herself with was one she carried in her glove compartment for self-defense.
“She’ll get ten for second-degree,” Marcus said.“Maybe fifteen, but she’ll be out in ten.Folks like a good revenge story, especially when it’s a wife killing a cheating husband.”
Kate frowned at him.“How very enlightened of you.”
He shrugged.“Am I wrong?”
She sighed.“No, probably not.”She sipped her coffee, thought about it, then decided she’d bit back enough of her words.“You looked sorry for her.”
“Iamsorry for her.It sucks to be cheated on.Doesn’t mean it’s an excuse for murder.”
Kate looked at him.“Is that what happened?With Cheryl?”
“No, that’s not what happened with Cheryl,” Marcus said in a clipped voice.
“Oh.”Kate’s cheeks flamed.“Sorry, I was just…”
He sighed and rubbed his eyes.“No, don’t be sorry.You’re just being a good friend.Cheryl and I got into another fight.I don’t want to talk about it, but it looks like I’m going to be couch surfing for a while.”
