his head. “Why Eliza?”
“Charley came to me. It was just business, just like this. This isn’t personal. You understand that, Trey, I know you do.
Trey nodded. I imagined the wheels turning in his head, behind the flat gaze. “How?”
“You were the one who pointed out how much of a safety breach that wall was at Beau Elan. Everybody worried about who might get in. Nobody gave a damn who might get out.”
I remembered then, the trees along the end of the wall, how simple it would have been to hop right over it that afternoon, hop right into Phoenix. Where Landon’s car was parked. How easy it would have been to find Eliza at my brother’s, kill her, then drive back to Phoenix, hop back over the wall. Thanks to Jake, Eliza’s security camera was focused on the sunbathing area at that time. Nothing would have shown up on the exit gate cameras, and nothing on the cameras in the Phoenix garage, not after they got smashed anyway.
Dylan hadn’t been lying—he hadn’t broken those cameras. It had been Landon all along.
“Dylan,” I said.
Landon made a noise. “First Eliza and then that idiot. Everybody gets in over their head. Eliza, Dylan, Charley. Now you two.” He put his mouth against my ear. “I told you to go home. I told you over and over in so many ways.”
“The bull’s eyes,” I said.
“Bull’s eye,” he repeated.
Trey didn’t speak. Neither did I. I wanted to. I wanted to beg and plead and say I’d do anything—anything—if he’d just let me go. But I couldn’t make my throat open.
“You framed Bulldog,” Trey said.
“Like that was a challenge. The idiot practically framed himself.”
I stared at Trey. He was watching me, not Landon. I saw something shift in his eyes and in his stance. Was he reaching for a weapon? Did he have another gun?
Landon noticed too. He moved the gun from my head and pointed it at Trey. “Don’t be stupid.”
I caught Trey’s eyes again. Did he remember? I hoped to God he did because it was the only chance we had. I closed my eyes, squeezed them tight, muttered what I hoped was a prayer…
And then I went limp.
Landon lunged to catch me, trying to swing the gun back around, but I smashed his arm up and hit the floor rolling, kicking, flailing, screaming. Trey moved so fast he was a blur, catching Landon by the throat and throwing him up against the wall. The gun flew across the room, but Trey ignored it and slammed Landon against the plaster, again and again, while Landon clawed at his hands.
I scrambled for my purse and snatched the gun free. “Let him go, Trey, I’ve got the gun!”
But Trey didn’t let go. He still had his hands on Landon’s throat, his thumbs pressed deep into his windpipe. Landon clutched at his fingers, going blue, choking and sputtering.
I stamped my foot and screamed louder. “Stop it, Trey! Let him go!”
It wasn’t happening. Trey had his face right up in Landon’s, and he was watching him suffocate. Watching him die.
I gripped the gun tightly, took aim, and fired. The recoil jerked my hands, but I hit my target—the crystal lamp across the room shattered in a cacophony. Trey whipped his head around to see what had happened.
“Let him go!” I screamed.
Trey shook his head, like a man waking up after a long sleep. He released his hold, and Landon collapsed to the ground, gasping and wheezing in leaky gurgles. He curled into the fetal position at Trey’s feet, his face ashen.
Trey looked at the glassy shards on the floor, then at Landon, then at me. “Call 911. Tell them we have a victim with a possible crushed windpipe. Tell them to hurry.” And then he held out his hand. “Give me the gun.”
I did. The room smelled like blood and cordite, like the car when I’d found Eliza. I was sick again, violently so. Trey kept the gun on Landon, his eyes on me. The shaking returned, my teeth chattering with each wave.
“This is where you tell me it’s going to be all right,” I said.
Trey holstered the gun. “It’s going to be all right.”
Chapter 48
The next hours were a blur of interrogation as first the police and then EMTs descended. They decided I was okay and tucked me in the backseat of a patrol car where I told my story over and over again. Trey told his story too, but he did it in an ambulance—where nobody