“I would have had to be Scheherazade to block him from that obsession.” She shuddered. “From the very beginning, you were the real target.” The tension and horror of the last moments were hitting home.
No, more than that. From the time Doane had taken her from the cottage and the people she loved and started her down this nightmare path of madness and terror, she had been the victim fighting for her life. It was incredibly difficult to believe that she was not still that victim.
“Eve.” Joe’s gaze was on her face. “It’s over.”
“Is it? I don’t think so. Not quite yet.” She walked over to Doane, who was still on the ground, gasping for breath. She looked down at him. All those days of torment and captivity, of trying to hold on to sanity, of fighting being the victim.
He had to realize that she had never been that victim, that she was the one who had won.
Eve knelt beside him. “Just so you know, Doane…”
He looked up at her with bloodshot eyes.
She bent lower and whispered, “I really am that good.”
Doane looked incredulously at her, an expression that froze forever, as one last breath escaped from his body.
* * *
JANE COULD FEEL HER CHEST tightening with tension as she looked out at the moonlight gleaming on the sea. She had just entered the hills, and the cottage should be somewhere beyond them on this road.
Was Harriet ahead of her?
Or had she already reached the cottage?
Was Eve dead?
Jane wouldn’t think of that possibility. She would just keep going and hope.
She rounded the curve and saw the cottage in the distance. It was brightly lit, but Jane could see only one car parked on the beach in front of it.
And it wasn’t the Cadillac Escalade Harriet had been driving. Relief surged through her, taking her breath. Harriet hadn’t reached the cottage. Not yet. Eve could still be safe.
But where was Harriet? She’d expected her to be delayed but not—
Her phone rang. Catherine.
“Eve’s safe, Jane.” Catherine’s voice was shaking. “We got to her in time.”
“Thank God. I can’t believe—” Jane had to stop as emotion overcame her. “How is she? He didn’t hurt her?”
“Not physically. We’ll have to see how much of the stuff he threw at her had any mental effect.” She paused. “Joe killed Doane.”
“Good,” Jane said fiercely. “Harriet?”
“No, she’s not here yet. Doane got a call from her that she’d had trouble halting the bleeding in her wound. She was supposedly approaching the hills at that time.”
“I’m coming out of the hills now. I can see the cottage.” She said slowly, “The only answer is that she’s behind me.”
“Stay where you are. We’ll come up to—”
“No.” She pulled off the road into the trees. “There’s probably not time. And the last thing we want is for her to see you all coming after her and panic. She still has that detonator.”
“All the more reason for—”
“No, Catherine.” She hung up.
No, Catherine. I have to be the one to do it. She has to be mine.
She got out of the car and pulled out the revolver Caleb had given her at the sand dune. That seemed such a long time ago.
A lifetime ago. Trevor’s life.
She moved away from the car, so she would have a clear view of the road.
Come on, Harriet. I’m waiting for you.
She listened.
No sound.
It would come.
She would come.
One minute.
Two minutes.
Three.
A sleek, powerful roar in the distance.
The Cadillac.
Closer. Closer.
Right around the bend.
She prepared herself and raised the gun.
Make it count, Joe had always said.
The Cadillac came around the bend.
Blam! Blam!
She blew out the two front tires.
The Cadillac went skittering across the road, and it was so close she could see Harriet’s strained, angry face behind the steering wheel. Then the car was down in the ditch, and Harriet was scrambling out of it.
“You took a long time to get here,” Jane called out. “That was Trevor’s fault. When he shot you, he already had three bullets in him, but he still managed to pull that trigger.” She heard Harriet cursing. “I hope he hurt you. Because I intend to hurt you, Harriet.”
A bullet struck the metal fender of the car a foot from Jane’s head.
“I told you that it was only a postponement,” Harriet said viciously. “I’m glad that you showed up so that I can put an end to you. Then I’ll go to that cottage and kill your precious Eve.” She pulled out the cell-phone detonator. “And then I’ll tend to Kevin’s last bit of business.”
Kevin’s business. A million deaths …
Death.
Trevor …
Don’t think of Trevor now. Her hand had to be steady.
She moved carefully into position.
Another bullet shattered the driver’s mirror a few feet away.
“That was close, wasn’t it? I told you I was a good shot.”
“Yes, you did, didn’t you?” Jane said. “And you are. But it won’t do you any good. You won’t kill me, and all your other plans are going to go down the tube. Doane screwed up, and Zander and Eve are free.”
Silence. “You’re lying. I talked to James not fifteen minutes ago.”
“Doane is dead.” She aimed carefully. “And so are you, Harriet.”
“What are you talking about? You’re the one who—” She screamed as her right hand exploded. The detonator dropped to the ground.
Jane quickly aimed again. She fired four shots in quick succession.
Harriet screamed again and bent double in the dirt.
Enough. It was done.
Jane got to her feet and slowly walked over to where Harriet lay on the ground.
Harriet was gazing dazedly up at her. “I’m going to get up in a minute. You … couldn’t have hurt … me. Not you…”
“Oh, I hurt you. You were boasting how well Kevin taught you to shoot.” She stared fiercely down at Harriet. “He taught you to kill. Joe taught me to shoot, too. I got pretty damn good. But it was to protect myself. Everyone thought that in the end I would never have the killer instinct. I didn’t think so either until I met you.”
“I’m not going to die,” Harriet said as she struggled desperately to sit up. “You’re not strong enough to kill me. I’ll find a way to survive. I always have, and I always will.”
“You’re already a dead woman. I aimed very carefully. One shot to blow your right hand off so that you wouldn’t be able to press those buttons. One shot to the other hand to get rid of your gun.” She added with cruel malice, “And three shots in your abdomen and chest, just like Trevor’s wounds. He died very quickly. Since that stump of a hand is bleeding even heavier than his wounds, you should die even sooner. No one can save you. Not your Kevin. Not Doane.”
“I’ll save myself.” A trickle of blood was running from the corner of her mouth. “Bitch. A weakling like you will never—” She trailed off as pain overcame her. “Why do you think you could ever—destroy me? You’re like those silly children Kevin had to have. Weak. Worthless…”
“I have destroyed you.”
“Liar.” Her eyes were glazing over. “James told me he thinks Kevin … is becoming part of him. I … laughed at him. Kevin wouldn’t want him. He’s not strong enough. Not like me. I’m the one Kevin always…” Her eyes were closing. “Kevin, help—me. I always—helped you. Sweet, sweet, beloved … Now you have to—help me.” She roused herself, and her words came strong and biting with venom. “Kill her!”
For an instant, Jane felt an icy chill. And then it was gone.
And so was Harriet.
Her eyes were wide-open, staring blindly up at the night sky.
Jane stood there looking down at her for another moment. No regret. No guilt. She only wished Harriet were still alive so that she could do it again.
The true killer instinct.
Eve.
Jane picked up the detonator, turned, and slowly headed down the beach road toward the cottage on the hill. She could see the lights in the cottage casting a glare over the driftwood graveyard. Then the shadowy figures that she thought were Catherine and Gallo.