May forced herself to look at Peter. “We have to get out of here. This is not okay.”
Peter exhaled slowly and looked at the floor, as if searching for something steady in the linoleum.
May’s brain began calculating distance. The door. The gun. The counter behind her. If she screamed?—
“You scream, I’ll shoot you,” Kyle hissed.
She met his eyes. They were empty now. Cold. “You wouldn’t shoot me,” she said, though she was not sure she believed it.
“Try me,” he said. “I kind of want to.”
Peter held up a hand. “Don’t. Just give me a second.”
“Stop thinking,” May said. “There’s nothing to think about. He just killed someone. He killed Jack.” Her heart pounded as her mind clicked facts into order. Wait a minute. There was only one way this computed. “Kyle. You killed Laura.”
“Of course I killed her.” His voice rose with irritation. “That worthless twit thought she could tell me no.”
May felt the blood drain from her face.
“She looked like you,” he continued. “Close enough. I offered her a ride home that night, and she was oh so flirty. We made out a little, and then she said no. That she was into someone named Tyler. Nobody rejects me. I lost it. I don’t even remember the moment exactly. I just remember coming back into myself and finding her on the ground and not breathing.”
Peter closed his eyes briefly.
“I called Peter,” Kyle went on. “He handled it. Like always.”
May stared at Peter. “You handled it?”
Peter looked older than he had ten minutes ago. “I left her down by the water, so she’d be found and her family wouldn’t have to wait long.”
“That makes you a hero,” May shot back, fear sharpening her words.
Peter flinched.
She straightened and backed into the exam table, the paper crinkling loudly behind her. Her pulse hammered in her ears. If Ace walked in right now, what would he do? How long did a hearing take? Thirty minutes? An hour? It felt like days.
Peter suddenly moved, grabbing a stack of paper towels from the counter and pressing them against Jack’s chest.
“Stop it. He’s dead,” May protested.
Peter’s hands stilled but he left the towels in place.
Kyle shifted his grip on the gun, the metal tube tracking lazily between Peter and May.
“Now what?” May’s mind raced. “You think you can just carry a body out of a clinic in the middle of town?”
Peter glanced toward the window.
Kyle’s eyes flicked to her again. “We’ll figure it out.”
May swallowed. She had to keep them talking and buy time. She couldn’t let them take her out of here. “You already messed this up. You shot him inside my clinic. There’s blood everywhere. You think that just disappears?”
Peter crouched beside Jack’s body and grabbed him under the arms, dragging him a few inches away from the wall. He studied the blood spatter. “I can clean this up enough that nobody will know. The place already smells like bleach. Blood isn’t unusual in a clinic.”
May stared at him. “What about me?”
Peter glanced at her, then at Kyle. “That’s another issue.”
“What is wrong with you?” she shot back. “You can’t just follow him around cleaning up murders.”
