Hailey stood, her legs rooted firmly to the floor, pointing the gun straight ahead at eye level, just a few feet from Sookie Downs’s face. She sounded like a maniac, but looking into Sookie’s pale eyes, Hailey knew she wasn’t crazy at all.
Sookie Downs was a cold-blooded killer.
Hailey’s pause only served to egg Sookie on, emboldening her to stupidly taunt Hailey Dean.
“You know you won’t do it, Hailey; go ahead, give it back to me, I know what to do with a gun, Hailey. You don’t have the guts for it. After your little fiancé was shot, you can’t even stand the feel of the gun… You don’t even know what to do… do you?”
With that, Hailey smoothly and calculatedly, almost mechanically, lowered the gun down… down from Sookie’s face, then further down to her knees. Without wasting another moment, Hailey Dean took aim directly at Sookie’s long legs. Her beautiful long legs, legs like a foal’s, legs showcased a million times in a million places, legs that seemed to bloom down out of thousand-dollar designer minis, legs she showed to her advantage whenever possible. Specifically, Hailey took aim at the right kneecap.
Staring Downs straight in the eyes, Hailey squeezed the trigger. The blast was muffled by the silencer and Sookie screamed in agony, falling to the floor. Hailey stepped back just a few steps, gun still aimed straight at Sookie Downs, now crawling across the carpeted floor toward the door.
The room was lit only by the light in the closet where Fryer sat bleeding and unconscious. Hailey raced to the phone in the far corner of the room and, barely able to make out the digits, punched the numbers 911. A woman’s voice answered.
“911 Dispatch. What’s your emergency?”
Before she could answer, Hailey realized the worst. Sookie wasn’t heading for the door; she’d crawled across the carpeted expanse to her handbag, sitting in a chair a few feet from Noel Fryer. Before Hailey could utter another word, Sookie lurched her body forward, reached one hand into the bag, and pulled out a second gun. In a sitting position, Sookie held the gun up, aimed directly toward Hailey, and pulled the trigger.
In the back of Hailey’s mind, she heard the blast and dived hard to her right underneath a long dinner table set up in Fryer’s office apartment. A burning pain tore through Hailey’s left side, but even then, mid-dive, Hailey took aim at Sookie yet again, squeezing off a second, and last, round.
A searing pain took over Hailey’s body. The last thing Hailey Dean saw was the bottom of Noel Fryer’s heavy, ornate dinner table.
Chapter 45
WILL WAS THERE. SHE COULD SEE HIM. HAILEY REACHED OUT BOTH her arms for him to come closer, but he wouldn’t. Will smiled at her, then evaporated. There were voices… a low buzzing that seemed far away. She tried to open her eyes, but her eyelids wouldn’t work. The voices grew louder, no longer just a buzz.
When Hailey finally opened her eyes, Will was definitely gone, leaving an empty feeling in her chest. But there were cops, uniformed and plainclothes, everywhere, swarming all over the room. Hailey could see them beyond the door in the office of the GNE CEO suite. She looked down to see she was now lying stretched out on a long, deep-blue velvety sofa off in one corner.
Glancing around the room, now brightly lit with overhead fluorescent lights as well as every floor and table lamp, Hailey immediately spotted Kolker, his back to her. He was huddled over Tony Russo, who was lying in a heap at the door of Noel’s office. Noel himself was sitting up, awake and alert, the blood wiped from his face and a bandage over his eye. He was talking into a microphone held by a young, thin man who squatted on the floor while balancing a camera on his right shoulder.
Two cops were trying to attach a huge piece of cardboard to the window gaping open and framed by splinters of clear glass, what little was left after the shooting, in order to curb the blasts of winter wind gusting in. The thick carpet on the floor was covered in broken glass, shards of every shape and size.
Sookie Downs was strapped on a gurney. Her hair stuck to her head and the sides of her face in dark red tendrils. Tears were running down her cheeks and she was staring venomously straight at Hailey Dean. “Kolker, is Sookie Downs cuffed?” Hailey sat up straight and called it out loud and low across the room… just in case they hadn’t all figured out exactly who had been shooting at whom.
Kolker stood up and turned around. He was smiling.
“Yeah, Hailey. She’s cuffed.” He stepped over to Sookie’s gurney and pulled the thin blanket up off her body, revealing that she was cuffed to the metal side rails, hands and ankles. A thick white gauze bandage was over her right kneecap, blood flowering out through the thick cotton. She had a similar patch across her left shoulder, the sleeve of her lavender silk blouse now cut off and lying on the floor next to the gurney.
“Nice shooting, Ms. Dean. I can only assume this was your handiwork. I can’t wait to hear about it.” He gave Hailey a thumbs-up, as he replaced the blanket.
“What happened to Tony? Is he okay?” Hailey felt sick to her stomach looking at Tony, pale and crumpled.
“We’re not totally sure yet, but we think he came looking for you, saw blood, and passed out. He’s okay, just a little case of shock.”
Hailey tried to stand, but settled for sitting when the dizziness hit. “Quick, Kolker. Call the corporate jet company. You gotta get the bathroom drain out of the plane Sookie took out to LA.”
“What plane? And why do we need a bathroom drain?”
Hailey realized they didn’t get it yet. She tried to capsulize as best she could. “Sookie took the GNE corporate jet to LA, cooked up a dinner meeting with Cassie Lake, shot her, and flew back. She colored her hair on the way. It was Sookie Downs in the passenger seat of Cassie’s car. She’s the dark-haired man… she’s tall enough, right?”
“She’s the man? She dyed her hair?” Kolker looked over at Sookie, who looked as if she wanted nothing more than to get her hands around Hailey’s neck.
“Yes. She’s the killer. She didn’t want to arouse suspicion, sending Tony out for a brunette wig, so she sent him to the drugstore for hair dye instead, thinking he’d never notice the shade was brunette, not bright red. Tonight, she came here to get rid of the evidence… the corporate jet log naming her as the only passenger, Teterboro to LAX, the same day, right after the Harry Todd taping. Cassie Lake gets home around 4 p.m. California time. Sookie beats her out there by taking the GNE private jet, meets her; they head to the Italian restaurant in Cassie’s car. By flying charter, she can smuggle on a gun, no metal detectors, and has the plane’s bathroom all to herself for four hours to dye her hair. They probably didn’t even check her driver’s license, much less do a firearms check.”
Kolker looked at Sookie Downs as if a light had just turned on over his head. “And speaking of the gun, it’s her father’s, from the Second World War. When you call LA, get them to process Cassie’s car seats for red particles. They’re paint… They’re off the gun handle. Look at it, Kolker. He must have painted it with the old lead paint while he was in Burma. I saw a picture of it in Sookie’s wine cellar… on the steps.”
Kolker turned and spoke quickly over his shoulder. “O’Brien, quick. Get a warrant and get out to Downs’s mansion in the Hamptons. Call Suffolk P.D. to assist. We have to get that photo before she has somebody destroy it. And seize all the computers, hard drives, search the desk, the bedroom… anything connected to the victims or the murders.”