“Now we’ve just got to figure out how to get you out of this.” He pauses for a moment, and then nods. “Alright. Leave it to me. We’ll make sure the cops know you were just... unlucky enough to stumble onto the scene. It shouldn’t be too difficult to establish that Phil was the shooter, seeing the gun was in his hand when you got there, and I’m sure his actions will be backed up by gunshot residue. If we can prove that, we can cast enough doubt on your involvement.”
“Whatever it takes, man. I would happily have gone down for this crime if I actually did it. But I didn’t.”
“Then we’ll get you off,” he promises. “That’s my job. As long as you’re honest with me, we have a great chance of making this all go away.”
I nod. “I will be.”
“Good. Then we’ve got a chance. But next time, Dex?” He leans forward, fixing me with a sharp look. “Leave the murder kits at home.”
I glare at him. “Noted.”
For now, all I can do is trust him to work his magic. But one thing is certain—Phil may have stolen my thunder, but I’ll be damned if I let him take my freedom, too.
As I sit in the cell overnight, I can’t help but feel cheated. I was supposed to be the one to end Timmy’s reign of terror. I was supposed to be the one to deliver justice for Margaux.
But instead, I’m stuck here while Phil gets to die the hero—or at least the martyr.
I stare at the cold, gray walls and take a deep breath.
At least Timmy’s gone.
At least Margaux is safe.
But damn, I wanted to see the fear in his eyes when he realized what was coming—I wanted him to know what true helplessness felt like.
And now, thanks to his father, I’ll never get that satisfaction.
CHAPTER 150
MINE
MARGAUX
Timmy is dead.
The words don’t feel real. They float in the air like smoke, curling into my mind but refusing to settle.
I first hear about it on the news. I’m curled up on the couch, a glass of rosé in my hands, when the anchor’s voice cuts through the room.
“This just in—a murder-suicide has left two individuals dead in a cabin in Montana. The victims have been identified as Timothy O’Malley and his father, Philip O’Malley.”
I leap to my feet, glass in hand, getting as close as possible to the TV, as if that might give me additional information.
The anchor continues. “Authorities are currently investigating the involvement of Dexter Barrett, who is already in custody.”
Dex’s mugshot flashes on the screen, and my world stops.
I gasp, the wine glass slipping from my hands. The glass crashes to the floor, shattering into a hundred jagged pieces. I barely notice. My heart feels like it’s doing the same thing in my chest.
“No,” I whisper. My voice is barely audible over the pounding in my ears. “No, no, no…”
I stagger back, my legs buckling as I sink to the floor. My body feels disconnected from my mind, like I’m watching myself from above, a broken puppet with severed strings.
The night stretches on endlessly.
I can’t sit still. My thoughts race, each one colliding into the next until they’re an unrelenting tangle of confusion and fear. I pace the living room, my feet crunching over the shards of glass I still haven’t cleaned up.
Timmy is dead.