“Just arrived.”

“Do you see any blood by the kitchen door?”

“No, nothing. It’s clear back here.”

“Good.” He smiled now. “Have your guns ready and pointed that way. She may be armed.”

Chapter 42

Behind the copper-roofed Kerbs Boathouse in Central Park, Aqua sat cross-legged. His eyes were closed. His tongue was pressing against the roof of his mouth. His thumbs and middle fingers formed circles. His hands rested near his knees.

Jeff Raynes sat next to him.

“She found me,” Jeff said.

Aqua nodded. He had loaded up on his meds today. He hated them. They made him miserable and depressed, like he was underwater and couldn’t move. They made him feel lifeless. Aqua often compared himself to a broken vending machine. When it was on, you never knew what you got. You may get scalding hot coffee when you asked for cool water. But at least the machine was on. When he was on his drugs, it was as though the machine was unplugged.

Still, Aqua needed the clarity. Not for long. But for a few minutes anyway.

“Do you still love her?” Aqua asked him.

“Yes. You know that.”

“You’ve always loved her.”

“Always.”

Aqua kept his eyes closed. “Do you believe that she still loves you?”

Jeff grunted. “If only it were that simple.”

“It’s been eighteen years,” Aqua said.

“You’re not going to tell me time heals all wounds, are you?”

“No. But why are you here, Jeff?”

He didn’t respond.

“Isn’t your talking to me a futile exercise anyway?”

“What do you mean?”

“You saw her today.”

“Yes,” Jeff said.

“You let her go once. Do you really think you have the strength to do that again?”

Silence.

Aqua finally opened his eyes. The pain etched on his friend’s face made him wince. He reached out a hand and put it on Jeff’s forearm.

“I made my choice,” Jeff said.

“And how did that work out for you?”

“I can’t regret it. I wouldn’t have my daughter if I hadn’t left.”

Aqua nodded. “But it’s been a long time.”

“Yes.”

“Maybe everything happened for a reason. Maybe this was how your love story was supposed to go.”

“She’ll never forgive me.”

“You’d be surprised what love can overcome.”

Jeff made a face. “Time heals all wounds, everything happens for a reason, and love conquers all? You’re loading up on your clichés today.”

“Jeff?”

“What?”

“My meds aren’t going to hold me together much longer. In a few minutes, I will crash and start panicking again. I will think about you and Kat and I will want to kill myself.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Then listen to me. Einstein described insanity as doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. So what are you going to do, Jeff? Are you going to run away and crush both your hearts again? Or are you going to try something different?”

• • •

Reynaldo knew he had Dana trapped.

Still staring at the bloody footprints, he worked the mental layout of the kitchen. The table, the chairs, the cupboard—there was no place for her to hide. Her only hope was to attack him when he entered. Or . . .

Without warning, he shoved the door hard with both hands.

He didn’t follow the door into the kitchen. She might be expecting that. If she were waiting near the door, if she were hoping for him to enter blindly so she could surprise him, Reynaldo would see it.

She would make a move, cry out, flinch, something.

Just to be on the safe side, he took a step backward as he shoved the door.

It flew open, banged against the wall, and then swung closed again. The wood vacillated a few times before coming to rest.

There had been no movement on the other side.

He had, however, seen more bloody footprints.

With the gun drawn now, he entered the kitchen. He aimed the gun right, then swung it left.

It was empty.

Then he looked down at the floor and saw the bloody footprints again.

They led to the cellar door.

Of course. Reynaldo almost slapped himself in the head. But no matter. He knew there was only one other exit from the cellar—an outdoor storm door with a padlock on it.

Number Six was truly trapped now.

His cell phone buzzed. It was Titus. Reynaldo brought the phone to his ear.

“Have you found her yet?” Titus asked.

“I think so.”

“You think so?”

He quickly explained about the cellar door.

“We are on our way back,” Titus said. “Tell Dmitry to start destroying the computer files.”

“Dmitry is dead.”

“What?”

“Dana killed him.”

“How?”

“From the looks of it, I think she has the axe.”

Silence.

“You still there, Titus?”

“There’s gasoline in the barn,” Titus said. “A lot of it.”

“I know,” Reynaldo said. “Why?”

But Reynaldo knew the answer, didn’t he? He didn’t like it. He knew this day was coming. But this farm had been his home. He and Bo liked it here.

It made him angrier than ever at that bitch who was ruining everything.

“Start spreading it throughout the house,” Titus said. “We’re going to burn down the entire operation.”

• • •

Kat had no idea where they were headed.

For over two hours, she had followed the SUV down the New Jersey Turnpike, getting off on the Pennsylvania Turnpike, traveling north of Philadelphia. The FBI had sent out a chopper. It was following from a safe distance, but that didn’t mean Kat was ready to relax.

The Ford Fusion had enough gas. She wasn’t worried about that. Kat was in constant contact with the FBI agents. They had no new information to give her. The black SUV’s original plates had been stolen too. YouAreJustMyType.com was dragging its heels and demanding a subpoena. Chaz had located what he thought might be two more victims, but he couldn’t be sure. It would take time. She got that. On cop shows, it all got wrapped up in an hour. In reality, it always took much longer.

She tried not to let her mind wander to either her father or Jeff, but as time passed, she couldn’t help it. Sugar’s words kept reverberating in her ears, about what he’d sacrifice, what he’d forgive, if he could have just a few more seconds with Kat’s father. She could see that Sugar’s love was real. It wasn’t an act. It made her wonder. Had her father been happy with Sugar? Had he known passion and love? Kat hoped he had. When she stripped it down, when she dismissed her not-so-subconscious prejudice—she was, after all, from the neighborhood too—maybe Kat could be grateful for that.