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- Author: Adam Nicholls
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It was an unusual experience to be escorted to the back of a police car by the captain himself, but it felt right. Morgan glanced back toward the ambulance, which was now rounding the corner. He let out a half smile while being led to the only other ambulance on the scene and stepped up into the back.
“Two minutes, and not a moment longer,” Bray said, and then he closed the door.
Morgan was left alone in the confined area. Only he wasn’t completely alone; Nick Hansen lay on a stretcher. His shirt had been removed, and bloody patches on his arm and shoulder had been smeared to make room for assessment. They’d been told he would survive, and for that Morgan found himself oddly relieved.
He’d said it before, but nobody deserved to die.
“Got a minute?” he asked, watching Nick’s eyes inch open with all the strength of a butterfly. Morgan took a seat on the opposite stretcher, a strong whiff of something medical filling his nose. When Nick saw him and jerked to alertness, Morgan continued. “I wanted to tell you that I forgive you. Taking Rachel and putting her in danger was the worst thing you could’ve done to me. If anything had happened to her, I might not be in here saying this to you. But as it stands, I forgive you.”
Nick watched him with astonishment, his eyes widening and struggling to find their focus. When they finally landed on Morgan, his thin lips curved into a wry smile that could’ve spooked the Devil himself. “But I don’t forgive you. I had to kill my own mom because of you. If you hadn’t interfered…”
Morgan wanted to tell him the truth and wipe that smug grin from his face, but he figured it could wait another minute. After all, he’d just gone to Hell and back, so what was sixty seconds between archrivals? “You did that yourself. The only real wonder was how you managed to get Emma Cole past her. A woman like that—she has to keep a watchful eye over her son, whether she chooses to step in or not. What happened?”
“Why should I tell you?”
“Because nobody else will listen.” Morgan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together. “I’d hurry up though; the captain gave me two minutes, and I’m figuring we have around thirty seconds left.”
Nick glanced at the door and then tried to sit up. He winced, a trickle of blood oozing from his wound, and slumped back down. Groaning, he craned his neck. “I didn’t have to hide it. My mom knew all about what I was doing. She knew from the very beginning.”
The reveal should’ve hit Morgan harder than it did. He sat in silence, studying Nick’s expression, which was nothing short of wounded superiority. He couldn’t believe that the horrors he’d seen had all been caused by this one little man who was now bleeding all over himself like an injured animal. It was the least he deserved.
“Cat got your tongue?” Nick said, grinning from ear to ear.
The door swung open then, and the captain stood in the moonlight pointing at his watch.
Morgan stood and bent over to keep from hitting his head on the low ceiling. He made for the door, ready to leave, but there was one little nugget he couldn’t help but tell. It was the one thing he had to rub in Nick’s face, and he simply couldn’t resist.
“What you didn’t know,” he said, turning his head just enough to watch his expression change, “is that you didn’t kill your mother. She survived the gunshot and is currently recovering in hospital. She’s given her statement, and she’ll testify against you in court.”
Nick’s jaw dropped in both amazement and horror. His eyebrows contorted into a pained and confused expression. He shook his head rapidly from side to side. “What? That… No. Why…” He gave up on speaking, his cheeks turning ghostly pale.
“Cat got your tongue?” Morgan let out his own grin, turned, and stepped out of the ambulance, closing the door behind him. With any luck, that would be the last time he’d ever see the man known as the DC Carver—a demented man killing for revenge—and with the exception of one little errand, the investigation had come to an end.
They entered without a word, Gary storming toward the hospital bed while Morgan rested his back against the nearest wall, where he watched, waiting. It was never going to be an easy thing to watch, but it was better that he was there; Gary was likely to be aggressive, and he wanted to ensure no harm came to her. Not under his watch.
Lyonette Hansen wrapped her large fingers around the rail she was handcuffed to. She inclined the electric bed, slowly coming to and meeting Gary’s stare with wide eyes. She looked like one cat being bullied by another, backed into a corner and growing defensive. “If you came here to interrogate me, I’ve already told my story,” she said.
“I’m not here for that. I came because I have something to say to you.”
Gary turned back to Morgan, silently seeking approval.
Morgan nodded with caution.
“Your son is in custody, Mrs. Hansen,” Gary stated, dragging his shoulders back to make himself look stockier than he was. “He murdered an acquaintance of mine, went after her friends, and then he was shot three times while attempting to execute my best friend.”
Her wide face fell into a heavy sulk, as if she’d lost control of her muscles. But she didn’t say anything—she simply chose the pity-me performance and ran with it, lowering her eyes as her chin touched her chest. It was a painfully annoying thing to watch.
Gary cleared his throat, a dry croak creeping in and threatening to break his voice. “I was never officially a part of this investigation, but I hired the man behind me to ensure that your son was brought to justice. You’ll never know the pain I’ve felt, because you’re sick and twisted. And you know what? Your screwup of a son is no better.”
“Hey—” Morgan stepped away from the wall, taking a warning step. For as long as he was here, it was his job to keep Gary in line. Otherwise, who knew what would happen? It wasn’t a secret that Gary wanted a few minutes alone with the man who’d killed his ex-girlfriend, but the mother who’d let it happen wasn’t about to get away with it.
Morgan could only imagine his rage.
“Okay.” Gary waved him off and crept closer to the bed, making Lyonette quiver in his shadow. “I’ve nothing left to say to you. Only that I hope your precious son becomes somebody’s bitch in prison. And he will—believe me, he will. The toughest, most badass killers in Washington will use him for things he never thought he’d do, and then they’ll make him clean up the mess. He’s just a small boy, Mrs. Hansen. A small boy who picked on small women. I want you to go to bed each night knowing that you made this happen.”
Something shocking happened then; Gary hocked up some phlegm and spat in her face. Lyonette recoiled, the spit joining the tears as it dripped from her red cheeks. She made a noise that sounded like “ormph” and wiped it away at once, wincing with disgust.
Morgan, who hadn’t been given the chance to stop it from happening, took Gary by the arm and dragged him out of the room, squeezing a little harder than he should have. He closed the door behind him, shoving Gary a few feet away from it. “A little too much.”
Gary began to pace. “I know, but I feel better.”
“I hope so.”
“Do you think I got to her?”
The truth was, Morgan didn’t know. If somebody had spoken to him like that, it’d stay with him for sure. In fact, the spit would only ingrain it deeper into his memory. But Lyonette Hansen? After what she’d allowed to happen, it was a wonder she was even able to register things emotionally. Morgan settled for a soft nod. “For sure.”
Gary stopped pacing. He looked Morgan dead in the eye and straightened his tie. “It feels like a bit of an anticlimax. I was hoping that when this moment came it would be some big, controlled speech. Like it would make everything okay again.”
“I know what you mean.”
“But it’s not, is it? Carrie is still dead, and nothing will change that. The only difference is that her killer can’t hurt anybody else. And I… I have you to thank for that, buddy. You’re more than just a strong investigator. You’re a good friend. I shouldn’t have made you do this. The things you went through, and with Rachel…”
Morgan spared him the words and rushed forward, embracing him. It wasn’t something he was conscious of in front of the cops; Gary was his best friend, and he had no problem showing that, especially if it helped keep Gary from tears. “It’s over now. Let’s just keep looking forward, right? Because now the job is done, and it’s time to move on.”
The words were meant for Gary, but Morgan took them on board too. After all the drama, the worry, the confusion, and the heartache, he was ready to go home to Rachel. Whatever happened next—whatever life threw at them—he was sure they would face it together, and that would make them unstoppable.
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