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She looks at her brother. His eyes are closed. She can’t tell if he’s dead or alive, and she feels sick.
Slowly she pushes herself up from the mud. He raises the gun and points it at her. Her blood runs cold.
“Leave,” he says. His voice sounds desperate. He’s pleading with her.
“No.”
“This has to end. These serial killers, these men, they’re the best at what they did.” He pauses, wiping his face with the back of his arm. “And I’ve beaten them all. All my life, I’ve been told I was nothing. That nobody loved me, that I would achieve nothing.”
“I love you, Noah,” Cara whispers.
“You don’t!” he shouts through his tears. Cara can see his whole body is shaking. “You love Roo and your kids and Griffin. You don’t love me—not like that. I have to do this. I have to. This has to end tonight.” Noah’s words catch in a sob; snot, rain, tears, sweat, running down his face. “Leave. Please,” he begs.
“Noah …” Suddenly it’s all too much. She’s crying, her vision blurred. She knows if armed response arrives before she gets the gun from him, they’ll shoot him. He’ll die. She holds her hand out again. Cara can barely see through her tears. “Please,” she sobs.
He raises the gun to her head, and tenses his finger against the trigger.
“No, Cara, no …” he whispers.
She’s next to him now. The gun is against her skull; if it goes off there’ll be nothing anyone will be able to do. But she doesn’t look at it, and slowly she reaches out her hands and touches him on the shoulder.
She looks him right in the eyes, and she sees him. Her Noah.
“You’re my best friend, Noah. I love you,” she repeats. His face crumples, the gun drops, and she knows then that it’s over.
She hears sirens in the distance, the armed response vehicles finally here.
He’s crying harder, and she reaches forward without thinking, pulling him into her arms. It’s her natural response, but as she stands, hugging her partner, her gaze drifts up to Lauren. At her unblinking eyes. She thinks about the pain she must have gone through. Excruciating, unbearable agony.
And she looks at her brother and Jess. Jess has dragged herself over to where Griffin lies, silent, his eyes closed. Jess is cradling his head in her arms, talking to him, telling him to hold on, keeping him alive.
Cara feels the repulsion, the anger. She realizes what she’s doing and lets go, Deakin sinking to the ground, still sobbing. She takes a step back, as armed police barrel into the clearing. They hesitate, staring at the scene, horror contorting their faces.
She looks at Noah. He’s making no effort to move, his face a mess of tears and rain and mud. She can see he’s given up. He’s crying, repeating the same words, but she’s not listening anymore.
“Him,” she says. “It was him.”
Men in black with huge guns surround Deakin, wrenching his arms hard behind his back, pulling him to his feet.
“My kids …” she says to one of the officers. She can’t bring herself to finish the sentence. “My husband …”
“They’re fine,” the policeman replies. “Being taken to the hospital now. More paramedics are just behind us.”
She expects to feel relief, but it never comes. She’s completely numb, and dimly acknowledges she must be in shock. She thinks of the dead women, the butchered men. The rapes, the torture. Of Libby, of Mia, of Lauren.
Her legs give way and she slumps to her knees in the mud. She looks back at Noah. He’s still howling the same words as he’s being taken away, his voice desperate, almost lost in the noise of the police and the wind and the rain.
But she can hear what he’s saying.
“I’m sorry,” he says over and over again. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
CHAPTER
82
Day 10, Two Days Later
Wednesday
