Once again, Loftus lifted the rifle and aimed at the canister.
She took a panicked step toward him. “You could ask for immunity,” she said.
“There’s no immunity for killing innocent people.”
“If you testify against the contractor-”
“They’re the ones with the money. The lawyers.”
“You can name names.”
“I already have. There’s an envelope in my truck. It has numbers, dates, names. Every detail I can remember. I hope it’s enough to bring them down.” His hand tightened around the rifle stock, and Maura’s breath froze in her throat. Where are you, Jane?
The rustle of branches alerted Maura.
Loftus heard it, too. In that instant, whatever uncertainty had plagued him suddenly vanished. He looked down at the canister.
“This doesn’t solve anything, Loftus,” said Maura.
“It solves everything,” he said.
Jane emerged from the woods, weapon clutched in both hands, barrel pointed at Loftus. “Drop the rifle,” she said.
He looked at her with an expression that was strangely impassive. The face of a man who’d given up caring what happened next. “It’s your move, Detective,” he said. “Be a hero.”
Jane took a step toward him, her weapon rock-steady. “It doesn’t have to end this way.”
“It’s only a bullet,” said Loftus. He turned toward the canister. Raised his rifle to fire.
The explosion sent a spray of blood across the white ground. For a second Loftus seemed to hang suspended, like a diver about to plunge into the ocean. The rifle dropped from his hand. Slowly, he collapsed forward, to sprawl facedown on the snow.
Jane lowered her weapon. “Jesus,” she murmured. “He forced my hand!”
Maura dropped down beside Loftus and rolled him onto his back. Awareness had not yet left his gaze, and he stared up at her, as though memorizing her face. It was the last image he saw as the light left his eyes.
“I didn’t have a choice,” said Jane.
“No. You didn’t. And he knew it.” Slowly Maura rose to her feet and turned toward the vanished settlement of Kingdom Come. And she thought: They didn’t have a choice, either, not those forty-one people who died here. Nor had Douglas and Grace, Elaine and Arlo. Most of us march through life never knowing how or when we’ll die.
But Montgomery Loftus had made his choice. He had chosen today, by a cop’s bullet, in this poisoned place.
Slowly she breathed out, and the white cloud from her breath curled into the twilight like one more untethered soul drifting into the valley of ghosts.
37
DANIEL WAS STANDING ON THE TARMAC, WAITING TO GREET THEM when Sansone’s private jet taxied to the executive air terminal. The same high winds that had delayed their flight to Massachusetts were now lashing Daniel’s black coat and whipping his hair, yet he stoically endured the gale’s full force as the jet came to a stop and the stairway was lowered.
Maura was first off the plane.
She walked down the steps, straight into his waiting arms. Only weeks ago, they would have greeted each other with only a discreet peck on the cheek, a chaste hug. They would have waited until they were behind doors, the curtains drawn, before embracing. But today was her homecoming, her return from the dead, and he pulled her against him without hesitation.
Yet even as Daniel held her, joyfully murmuring her name, pressing kisses to her face, her hair, she was aware of her friends’ eyes watching them. Aware, too, of her own discomfort that what she had tried so long to conceal was now in the open.
It was not the biting wind, but her awareness of being watched that made her pull away from Daniel far too quickly. She glimpsed Sansone’s darkly unreadable face, and she saw Jane awkwardly turn to avoid meeting her gaze. I may be back from the dead, she thought, but has anything really changed? I am still the same woman, and Daniel is the same man.
He was the one who drove her home.
In the darkness of her bedroom, they undressed each other, as they had so many times before. He kissed her bruises, her healing scratches. Caressed all the hollows, all the places where her bones were now far too prominent. My poor darling, you’ve lost so much weight, he told her. How he’d missed her. Mourned her.
It was not yet morning when she awakened. She sat in bed and watched him sleep as the night lifted outside the window, and she committed to memory his face, the sound of his breathing, the touch and the scent of him. Whenever he spent the night with her, dawn always brought sadness because it meant his leaving. On this morning, she felt it once again, and the association was so powerful that she wondered if she’d ever again be able to watch a sunrise without a stab of despair. You are both my love and my unhappiness, she thought. And I am yours.
She rose from bed, went into the kitchen, and made coffee. Stood at the window sipping it as daylight brightened, revealing a lawn laced with frost. She thought of those cold, silent mornings in Kingdom Come, where she had finally faced the truth about her own life. I am trapped in my own snowbound valley. I am the only one who can rescue me.
She finished her coffee and went back into her bedroom. Settling down beside Daniel, she watched him open his eyes and smile at her.
“I love you, Daniel,” she said. “I will always love you. But it’s time for us to say goodbye.”
38
FOUR MONTHS LATER
JULIAN PERKINS CARRIED HIS LUNCH TRAY FROM THE HIGH SCHOOL cafeteria line and scanned the room for an empty table, but they were all occupied. He saw other students glance at him, and noticed how quickly they turned away, afraid that he might misconstrue their looks as invitations. He understood the meaning of those stubbornly hunched shoulders. He wasn’t deaf to the snickers, the whispers.
God, he’s weird.
The cult must’ve sucked out his brains.
My mom says he should be in juvie hall.
Julian finally spotted an available chair, and as he sat down, the other kids at the table quickly scooted away as though he were radioactive. Maybe he was. Maybe he emitted death rays that killed anyone he loved, anyone who loved him. He ate quickly, as he always did, like some feral animal afraid that his food would be snatched away, gulping down the turkey and rice in a few ravenous bites.
“Julian Perkins?” a teacher called out. “Is Julian Perkins in the cafeteria?”
The boy cringed as he felt everyone turn to look at him. He wanted to duck under the table where he could not be found. When a teacher yells your name in the cafeteria, it sure as hell isn’t a good thing. The other students were gleefully pointing at him, and already Mr. Hazeldean was coming toward him, wearing his usual bow tie and scowl.
“Perkins.”
Julian’s head drooped. “Yes, sir,” he mumbled.
“Principal wants you in his office.”
“What did I do?”
“You probably know the answer to that one.”
“No, sir, I don’t.”
“Then why don’t you go and find out?”
Regretfully abandoning his uneaten chocolate pudding, Julian carried the tray to the dirty dishes window and started up the hallway toward Principal Gorchinski’s office. Truly he did not know what he’d done wrong. All the other times, well, yeah. He should not have brought his hunting knife to school. He should not have borrowed Mrs. Pribble’s car without her permission. But this time, he couldn’t think of any infraction that would explain the summons.
When he reached Gorchinski’s office, he had his all-purpose apology ready. I knew it was stupid, sir. I’ll never do it again, sir. Please don’t call the police again, sir.
Principal G’s secretary barely looked up as he walked in. “You can go straight into his office, Julian,” she said. “They’re waiting for you.”