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His face turned to steel. “Open it or I will.”
Her limbs went numb as she crossed to the door, her mind still frantically searching for any way out of the situation. Could she just open the door a crack and send him away somehow? But he’d want to know why she wasn’t letting him in—
She partially opened the door. Rick stood right in front of it, a toolbox in one hand and a clipboard in the other.
As soon as he saw her, he pushed in. “I know I’m not supposed to be here, but I dressed up like I’m a repair guy so it looks like you hired me to come fix something. I’ve been trying to reach you all morning and when I couldn’t get through I was worried you were this psycho’s next victim—” He stopped in his tracks when he spotted Chris. “Who’s this?”
Julia cleared her throat. “This is Naomie’s husband. My nephew-in-law.”
Rick’s face shifted as he calculated the relationship to Julia’s husband. He glanced from Julia, to Chris, and back. “I—”
Chris threw up a hand. “Don’t bother.” He turned to Julia. “You’re fucking this guy?”
Rick’s face shifted again. He was smart enough to know there was no point in denying it. He set the toolbox down and pulled himself up to his full, considerable height. “Julia and Pete are getting divorced. What she does and who she sees is no longer any of his business.”
Julia’s last shred of hope imploded. He was brave, and it was a gallant thing to do. He had no way of knowing it was exactly the worst thing he could’ve said.
Chris turned to her. Time slowed as she tried to read his emotions: his face flexed and twitched, and his fists squeezed open and shut.
“Son of a bitch,” he finally said. “Turns out, I’m a pathetic moron. You told me you loved me, and I believed you. You told me Pete was the reason we couldn’t be together, and that you’d never leave him. And all the time you were out whoring around with this joker.”
“Hold on right there, asshole,” Rick said, and stepped forward. “I don’t care who you are, you can’t talk to her like—”
Chris’s hand flew into his pocket and back out with a gun. He swung it up, pointed it at Rick, and shot him in the face.
CHAPTERFIFTY-SEVEN
Jo rounded the turn to Julia’s street at full speed, then slowed as they approached the duplex. “Isn’t that Chris’s SUV?”
“I think so,” Arnett said. “But who’s blue Civic is that by the curb?”
“No idea,” Jo said. “But I don’t have a good feeling about it.”
They climbed out of the car, carefully surveying the house and environs.
A gunshot rang out, followed by a scream.
Jo dropped back behind the car, then reached inside for the radio. As she called in for backup, Arnett unholstered his weapon, and started toward the house.
Jo pulled out her Beretta, and hurried to catch up. They climbed the few stairs up the porch as quietly as they could.
“What did you do?” Julia’s voice cried out. “He didn’t mean anything to me!”
“Then it won’t be a problem that I killed him,” Chris answered.
Arnett met Jo’s eyes, and, positioning himself by the door, reached for the knob. Jo nodded. He turned the knob and swung the door in.
Jo rushed into the room, Arnett covering her. Chris stood, gun pointed at Julia. A man Jo didn’t recognize lay dead and bleeding on the floor.
“Drop your weapon,” Jo yelled.
Chris’s head snapped toward her, and the arm with the gun stiffened. “Come any closer and I’ll kill her.”
“It’s over, Chris,” Arnett said. “We know you killed those women.”
“Then you know I don’t have anything left to lose, and I’ll have no problem killing another one.” He raised the gun still higher, now pointing directly to Julia’s head.
Julia stared at Chris, tears streaming down her face. “You’re going to killme, too, Chris? The woman you supposedly love?” Her voice rose, escalating to hysteria. “You used your love for me to justify killing Naomie, who loved you with all of her heart, and Madison and Helen and three babies who hadn’t even had a chance to live because you supposedly love me, but now you’re going to killme?”
