“Yeah. And then he committed suicide. You’re wasting your two minutes. You don’t know him. You don’t know what he wants.”
“I know that he was your favorite person on earth. I know that he let you win at video games and, when that girl on your bus told you there was no Santa, he took you aside and told you that the spirit of Santa is in all of us.”
“So what? He’d behappythat I’m finally punishing the wrongdoers. I’ve dedicated my entire life to getting him justice.”
“There’s a difference between justice and revenge, and Jackson doesn’t want revenge. He wants you to see the value of each human life.” She glanced at Griffin, who was blubbering about how much he was going to miss fresh dry cleaning. “Even the pathetic, terrible ones.”
“Hmmm. Nope. Not buying it.”
She felt the nudge in her brain and let the visions come. She saw it all playing out, each scene connected by a silver cord.
“It was a terrible thing that you lost your big brother to bullying. But he’s still out there trying to look after you,” she said. “Think about it. You killed Larry Rupley in the house next door to mine. You chose the victim and the location. My boyfriend was hired to find Larry. That’s a pretty big coincidence, don’t you think?”
“If you want to waste your time with rhetorical questions, then sure,” Hudson said smugly.
“I was hired by Detective Weber to consult on Bianca’s case. I wouldn’t have even been here at Channel 50 interviewing people if he hadn’t asked me to. Before today, I had never once set foot in Chelsea’s house. She just so happens to live next door to my parents, and my dad’s cow got loose. What are the odds that I would keep showing up like that in your life over and over again?”
“You’re right. It’s a sign,” he admitted. “A sign that I need to definitely kill you so you don’t prevent any future heroes from finishing the work I started!”
“Listen to me. To Jackson. Justice would be letting these people keep on living their miserable lives full of hate and fear. Justice would be allowing their communities to shun them now that you’ve unveiled them for who they are.”
“They’re not living miserable lives. They have everything!” Hudson yelled.
She shook her head. “Griffin and Bella have been cheating on each other for their entire relationship. She can’t stand the way he touches her, and he hates the sound of her voice. Chris lost his hair and his first marriage to this job. He only sees his kids every other weekend. And Chelsea’s sons moved across the country to get away from her. She’ll never be a part of their daily lives again.”
“Yes, I will! My boys love me! I gave them everything!” Chelsea howled from the sports desk.
The clock was down to ten seconds, and Riley was feeling desperate. “Mr. Pickles!” she said.
“Is she having a nervous breakdown?” Chris whimpered from the floor.
“Not everyone is cut out to be on-air talent,” Griffin said.
“After you killed Larry, you went back to his place and rescued his cat, Mr. Pickles, because you knew no one would come looking for Larry for a while, didn’t you?”
Hudson shrugged. “I always wanted a cat.”
She felt the nudge at her consciousness. “But you couldn’t have one because your brother was allergic, wasn’t he?”
“It wasn’t his fault he turned into a snot rocket around cats,” he said defensively.
“What if I tell you that your brother sent you Mr. Pickles? Who is going to feed Mr. Pickles tonight if you don’t come home? Think of Mr. Pickles,” Riley said.
“First of all, I’m not an idiot. Mr. Pickles has an automatic feeder that will last at least a week. And after I blow up the station, the cops will be all over my apartment. Mr. Pickles will be fine.”
The timer had ended on-screen, but Hudson hadn’t noticed yet.
“The cops will take Mr. Pickles to a shelter. You know how overcrowded shelters get. What if there’s no room for Mr. Pickles? He’s innocent. He never hurt anyone. You can’t just let him go to a shelter to be put down.”
“Poor Mr. Pickles,” Chris sobbed from the floor. “My wife will take him! We don’t want him to die too.”
Hudson pushed his glasses up his nose with the barrel of the gun and grinned. “See? Problem solved. Chris’s widow will take him. And guess what Miss Fancy Psychic? You’re out of time.”
Ah, hell. She was going to have to do this the hard way.
“Yeah, well, so are you,” Riley said, drawing her gun.
42
