“Claire,” she barked. “Come out now!”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Harper Devery safely cleared what he assumed was a guest room. No Claire Vallejo in there.
When he stepped back into the hallway, he noted that the main bedroom, which Goodwin had taken, was empty. The detective must have already cleared it. The door to another bedroom just up the hall was half-open. He assumed that's where Goodwin had gone next.
Heading in that direction, Devery reached the guest bathroom. The door was closed. He pushed it open and flicked on the light. It was empty. He was about to leave when he noticed something in the sink. It was a pair of scissors.
He could see what looked like dried blood on them, but nothing fresh. He pulled out a glove, slipped it on, and grabbed the scissors. No point in leaving them for Vallejo to come back for.
He stepped back into the hallway and started toward the bedroom that he assumed Goodwin had entered. He pushed the door open all the way. Someone was in the shadows on the other side of the bed. They spun around. Devery lifted his gun and was about to pull the trigger when he realized it was Goodwin, pointing his own weapon. Devery quickly held the gun up over his head to show he wasn’t a threat.
“I almost shot you,” Goodwin hissed.
“Sorry,” Devery whispered back. “Have you cleared the room yet?”
“All but the closet,” Goodwin said.
“I’ll cover you,” Devery told him, “By the way, I found these scissors in the sink. Maybe Vallejo tossed them and already bailed from the house entirely?”
“Let’s check this closet first,” Sam said. “Then we can find Jessie and let her know.”
Devery nodded and took up a position across from the closet door. Goodwin approached it from the side. He silently counted down from three, then yanked it open. Devery didn’t see anyone.
Goodwin started feeling around on the wall just inside the door, searching for a light switch. Before he found it, they both heard a familiar voice from the far end of the house.
“Claire, come out now!”
Goodwin immediately forgot about the light switch and started for the bedroom door, rushing past Devery, who was about to follow him.
That’s when it hit him. He might never get a better opportunity than right now. Jessie was out of sight. Goodwin’s focus was elsewhere. Circumstances had perfectly aligned, almost as if the universe was calling out to him, saying “do it now!”
So he did. Officer Harper Devery dropped his gun on the bed and took a step toward Goodwin.
“Detective, wait!” he hissed, raising the scissors above his head.
“What is it?” Goodwin asked as he spun around, sounding annoyed.
By the time he saw the scissors coming down toward him, it was too late. Devery jammed them into the detective’s neck multiple times in quick succession. Blood sprayed everywhere. Devery ignored it as he moved onto Goodwin’s chest, going for the heart.
Detective Sam Goodwin tried to lift his gun but Devery was prepared for it. With his free left hand, he grabbed Goodwin’s wrist and forced it back down, even as he continued to thrust the scissors into the man.
Goodwin’s knees buckled. Devery grabbed him and eased him to the floor. The gun fell from the detective’s hand. He looked up at Devery with confused horror.
“I know it’s hard to understand,” Devery said as he rested the man’s head gently on the carpet. “But it has to be this way. I didn’t want the first loss to be a man. It almost goes against the code. But let’s be honest, you’re a bit of a beta male, Sam.”
Goodwin blinked several times and his eyes got hazy. Devery wasn’t sure if the detective could even hear him anymore. But he kept going. The man deserved to know why this was happening to him.
“Consider yourself a casualty of war,” he whispered into Goodwin’s ear. “Jessie Hunt and all the uppity bitches like her have gotten too comfortable with power. Did you know that since she started profiling for the LAPD, the number of women who have applied to the police academy has nearly doubled. They all want to be investigators or profilers. They all want to ‘make a difference.’ The feminization of law enforcement is a virus, Sam. But not just there. They want to stamp out masculinity everywhere. They want to take over. And it looks like they might.”
Devery didn’t care if Sam Goodwin could grasp what he was saying. He had to tell him anyway. He’d kept this all to himself for so long that speaking the words out loud was cathartic.
“But that’s all about to change,” he continued. “When I’m through with her, she’ll be a cautionary tale to all the other whores who want to take what rightfully belongs to men. They’ll see what happened to her and they’ll scurry back to their kitchen to put on their aprons. And you’ll be a part of that, Goodwin. No one will ever know that you betrayed your gender. You’ll be a martyr to the cause.”
Goodwin had somehow mustered the strength to press his palm against his own throat. It was stemming the tide of blood slightly, but not nearly enough.
“I have to go now, Goodwin. My work here is only half done. You’ll keep our little secret, won’t you?” he said standing up, and sliding the scissors into the back of his pants.
