a forum, something?”
“Even on the internet, it takes personal connections to vouch for, say, certain professionals.” Mr. Delaney shrugs, as if this is the most obvious thing in the world. Maybe for him, it is. Maybe for my husband, all those years, all those aliases, logged online, it was as well. I know too much, I think, and yet still feel like I know nothing at all.
“Conrad figured you out,” I venture. “Surfing the dark web, he came upon something.”
“Ironically enough, he lodged a complaint against a particular gun for hire. When I went to mediate … I realized from Conrad’s e-mail who’d sent it. I knew then, it was only a matter of time before Conrad realized my role as site manager as well.”
I stare at him. I don’t care anymore about the smoke stinging my eyes, the intensity of the nearing flames, the feel of my mom tugging my hand. “Tell me,” I order, my voice so thick I barely recognize it. “I want to hear it. Straight from you. Tell me exactly how you killed my husband.”
“I didn’t have a choice—”
“Tell me!”
“I waited till you were out,” Mr. Delaney says slowly. “I went into the master bedroom and retrieved Conrad’s gun, which both of you had mentioned before. Eventually he came home, went to work in his study. I appeared in the doorway. ‘I never heard you knock,’ he said. Then I … Then I did what I had to do. Then it was done.”
“You killed my husband. You burned down my house.”
“I did what I had to do.”
“You burned your own house. Then this house? My mother’s house?” I’m practically screaming. At least I think I am. It’s hard to hear over the flames.
“She knows,” he said. “And now you do, too.” He stares hard at my mother again. “Sixteen years ago, you didn’t suspect?”
My mother doesn’t say a word.
“But when Evie told the police the truth, you started thinking about that day again, too. If Earl hadn’t shot himself, then there were only two logical solutions: The hired gun had come to the house, maybe to see you, and got in a confrontation with Earl instead. Or the only other person who knew everything that was going on had done it—namely, me. Of those two choices, who do you think you were going to turn on first?”
“You killed your best friend,” my mother finally snaps. “He loved you!”
“You hired a contract killer to take out the competition. And he loved you still!”
“He was going to leave me!”
“No! You should’ve just been patient, Joyce. For the love of God, you weren’t going to lose him.”
“No. You took him from me instead.”
Suddenly, my mom’s grip on my hand tightens. Except this time, she doesn’t tug. She yanks me backward. I stumble, falling halfway through the open bathroom doorway. Just as my mother, my platinum-and-pearls mother, ducks her head and charges.
She plows straight into Delaney, his pistol, the black smoke.
“Run, Evie, run!” my mother cries.
Then she and Delaney disappear into the flames.
• • •
YOU SPEND ENOUGH time chasing a dog to get back a precious black boot, you start to think like a dog. Spend the rest of your time chasing criminals, and you learn to think like a criminal.
Rocket was going over the wooden privacy fence across the street. D.D. knew it. He was counting on his youth and athleticism to launch himself up and over and leave his chaser in the dust.
D.D. couldn’t beat him to the fence. Nor was she swinging over tall wooden structures anytime soon. Ten years ago, maybe, but now she’d be kidding herself./
What she could do was tap him, just enough. Vaulting took timing, balance, and a proper launch. Rocket knew how to start a fire; D.D. knew how to take someone out.
A last burst of speed on her part. Her lungs did not appreciate it and she made a mental note to get back to morning runs, even if it was snowy and cold and she hated winter. Sound of a vehicle up ahead. Rocket heard it the second she did. He made his move, a mad dash in front of the vehicle, which he most likely assumed would slam on its brakes—or, better yet, swerve and hit D.D. instead.
D.D. smiled.
Just as Phil turned right into Rocket’s path, and the kid slammed into the side of the hood. Then D.D. was on him, yanking both arms behind his back, as Phil flew out of the front, weapon drawn and covering