“I said get off him!” Emily repeated, louder this time, but Misty wasn’t listening.
Justine clambered to her feet, grabbed the tire iron, and rushed Clint.
A decade’s worth of pain and suffering coalesced inside Emily in that split second. The images of Heather, Keith, and Ray flashed in front of her eyes.
The weapon fired. Emily jerked with the recoil.
Justine dropped the tire iron. She stared down at the blood bubbling from the hole in her chest. Then she looked at Emily, her mouth worked as if she wanted to say something, but she crumpled to the ground.
Misty howled in agony. She jumped off Clint and rushed Emily. Clint grabbed Misty around the waist and held her back.
The sirens wailing in the distance sent a wave of relief crashing over Emily. Maybe she’d hit that green button, completing the call, after all. Either way, help was almost here. Her head felt woozy and her knees were weak.
“Put the weapon down, Emily,” Clint urged above Misty’s shrieking. “Put it down, okay?”
Emily lowered her arms to her sides as the world started to spin around her.
She’d killed Justine.
The weapon slipped from Emily’s fingers, landed in the charred grass. Her gaze shifted from the gun to the woman who had been her coach ... her teacher ... her friend. Emily’s chest rose and fell with the emotion building inside her. The tears spilled past her lashes.
She hoped that bitch burned in hell for all eternity.
Uniformed officers rushed toward them, shouting orders.
Emily’s gaze met Clint’s and the corners of his lips lifted reassuringly. It might not be over, but at least they were alive.
57
5:20 a.m.
Night had grayed into dawn, bringing a light drizzle with it. The trailer was trashed. And cops were everywhere.
The county sheriff had dropped by to make sure backup wasn’t needed. According to what Clint overheard, the arrangement had been set up by Ray a couple weeks ago. Whatever happened at Clint’s place fell under the jurisdiction of Pine Bluff’s finest until further notice. Paramedics had arrived and taken care of Clint’s arm. It wasn’t nearly as bad as it could have been.
Once she’d calmed down, Misty had given her statement, which conflicted in most every way with Clint’s and Emily’s. As Clint watched, the woman was settled into the back of a cruiser in preparation for transport to City Hall.
Clint had a bad feeling about how this would go down. As much as he wanted to believe that justice would prevail as long as he and Emily stood together, history wasn’t on his side.
Mike Caruthers walked over to where they waited. “Clint. Emily.” He looked from one to the other. “We need to go on down to City Hall and get your statements done.”
Clint figured that was a good idea, considering the press had arrived in force. “The sooner we get this over with, the better,” he said to Emilyas he put his arm around her. They were both exhausted. “You okay with this? You want to call someone first?”
As much as Justine had deserved what she’d gotten, he hated that Emily was the one who’d had to do the job. That moment would forever be etched on her psyche.
She looked up at him, her eyes sad, her expression weary. “Let’s just finish this.”
Caruthers escorted them toward the waiting squad cars. “My officers will make sure the press doesn’t follow. Clint, you’ll go with Deputy Fitzpatrick, and Emily will ride with me.”
Emily looked unsure of the arrangement.
“Look, Caruthers,” Clint argued. “I don’t see why we can’t ride together. You already know what happened here. It’s not like we’re going to change our stories.”
“Sorry, Clint, we have protocol on these matters.”
Clint knew there was no point in arguing. He kissed Emily’s forehead. “I’ll see you there.” Then he refused to get into the car with Fitzpatrick until Emily was settled.
Once Clint had climbed in, Fitzpatrick pulled out onto the dirt road right behind Caruthers. Clint tried to relax, but with Emily out of his reach, he couldn’t. It was a short drive to town. He had to believe in the system that had failed him once already ... it was all they had. No need to get himself worked up like this, but his instincts wouldn’t stop humming.
