“Those weren’t my orders.”
“Your orders?” I swipe at the rapidly falling tears. “What the fuck does that mean?”
She huffs and glances around as if waiting for someone, which makes me nervous. “The abortion Kace made me have? Ended up taking place at the Pregnancy Center. In the waiting room, one of the women dropped a couple of kilos of cocaine when she slipped on the wet floor. I pulled out my badge and wanted to call Kace to arrest her. It would have propelled his career, but the doctor, the same one you went to, offered me a better deal.”
Dirty cops? I thought those were myths. “What kind of deal?”
“A lot of money and an opportunity to have my baby. Well, not the baby he had rid me of and discarded as medical waste, but a new one. Within a year, he froze my eggs, and we came to an understanding: I fed him information, he paid me very well, and offered to implant me for free. No paper trails.”
“So at some point helping Kace in his career didn’t matter?”
“I help him every day!” she shouts. “When we got partnered together, things were different and then you came along … The Pregnancy Center tip couldn’t have come at a better time. All I needed was to bring the clinic the semen. It took a while to get him—”
“Oh, my God.” I rub the furrow in my brow. “Kace went there to be a sperm donor and case the center before I went.” It must have been about a week or two before they called me in, and Stefanie had come up with the idea. “You tricked him.”
She nods, a wide grin plastered on her face as she studies me. “I had my eggs frozen at the center. Fresh sperm is always the best for implanting embryos.”
This is twisted. “What was the plan?” I didn’t even need to ask. The messages. “You wanted Kace to sleep with you, so you can say you were pregnant? And what, you thought he’d leave Tyler and me?”
“You getting involved sped up the process. I would’ve happily killed you and kept your baby. It was your own fault Tyler died.”
“My fault?” I glance at the gun in my hands. “Did you use this gun?”
“Yes,” she said proudly. No wonder the Bullet Man traced the bullet back to the precinct but couldn’t pinpoint the killer. We all have the same gun, and we get the bullets from inventory. “How? We sign them out in batches. The bullet would have been traced back to you.”
Another creepy, uneven smile. “I’m pretty smart, Eleanor. You don’t need a gun to buy bullets. Or in my case, to have them given to you. They were supplied by a different inventory. I made sure to wear gloves, so there were no fingerprints.”
Bullet. Fingerprints.
Tank. Evidence.
Smart. Doctor.
Parallel lines. The photographs on the office’s wall that all looked the same. I’ve seen those before. Black and white images of bullet striations. Ballistic fingerprinting.
The bullet didn’t match the stock used at the precinct, but the markings on the ammunition could be traced to the weapon it was discharged from. Ballistic fingerprinting led him to the precinct.
Oh shit. Body language flashes before me, followed by thoughts—lots of thoughts.
Evidence bag on his desk. Government-funded project.
He knew my due date. He knew about the case. Letter to the Bullet Man.
I told him everything.
All this time, I had been talking to the Bullet Man, thinking he was my therapist.
“Nolan Mills,” I whisper, distracting her.
“Who the hell is Nolan Mills?”
“He’s the Bullet Man. The one who figured out you shot me.” I’m reminded of my plan, and I switch the conversation, using the gift he gave me. “Why did you wait for me to get off the second bus stop?”
“It was the busiest. And from the alley, no one would see me. So Kace met you first, and I volunteered for the second spot.”
“It was you who called it in?”
“I waited a little bit, hoping you’d die, but I didn’t have a choice. When I told the doctor you were there to investigate, he was not happy with you or me. He specifically ordered you to remain alive, so he could teach people a lesson.”
“You included?” It doesn’t change anything for me, but I ask. “He would’ve killed you if you hadn’t?”
“Probably, but I’ve been plotting your death for a while. I’ve only had two objectives: kill, after you had the baby, of course, and get pregnant.”
“That’s deranged.” I hold the gun to her as she rattles the chair, cradling herself back and forth like some demented demon being exorcised. “So why haven’t you killed me? You could’ve put me out of my misery.”
She cradles harder, trying to free herself. “Maybe I like to see you suffer.”
The diamond on her finger pulls my mental trigger. I aim for her chest and step forward, bringing her closer to death. “You haven’t had the opportunity.”
She smirks and stops trying to free herself.
My brow curves inward as I study her movements. I look around the room, wondering if her doctor would be showing up, but then she distracts me.
“One out of two isn’t bad.”
My mouth falls open. No amount of training could’ve kept my shock contained. “You’re pregnant?”
“Guess who’s the daddy?”
The sound of wood cracking echoes in the room, distracting me. A body crashes into mine and topples me over, slamming my head into the ground. In the rush of the moment, my vision blurs and I cling to the gun as the person tries to wrestle it out of my hand.
My finger is still on the trigger.
And Stefanie is still here.
The sound of a bullet being expulsed from the barrel pierces through the muddled confusion, before I hear her scream.
And then the screaming stops.
15
The Shed
Dr. Nolan Mills
She strains against me, fighting underneath my grasp. She’s strong, but not strong enough to subdue me. I take the needle from my pocket and pierce the skin on her neck, injecting the sedative.
“Frank?” she asks, panting and out of breath. She’s pinned beneath my thighs, her neck is in my hands, while she strains to catch a glimpse of the blood staining the tile grout.
“You shot her,” I confirm as Elle’s eyelids grow heavier. The effect of the benzo is fast-acting, and she’ll be out in a few moments.
What are you doing?” she asks breathily.
“Taking you with me.”
Before she can ask where, her muscles give out and she stops struggling against my force. Her eyelids grow heavy, and she repeatedly blinks, struggling to stay awake. Her lips move, but no words come out.
She’s talked quite enough today. Honestly, I found the exchange between them fascinating. Dominance transferred between both of them frequently, and had the pregnancy bomb not been dropped, I would’ve called Eleanor the victor with her back-handed manipulations.
I’m glad I stuck around this time, or I wouldn’t have heard Eleanor declare me as the Bullet Man. She was quite clever, my little cop. My curiosity with Eleanor Devero and Kace Dalton started the second my eyes landed on her file. Having both of them come to me gave me a unique perspective on the influence of love on revenge.