Chapter 267

Chapter 267:

“They always believe me, Herod.” Rose’s finger tightened on the trigger again. “Everyone always does. I’m very convincing.”

He tried to reach for the phone that had skittered across the floor. Rose stepped on his hand, grinding it under her heel. He gasped in pain.

“Where’s the recorder?” she demanded.

Herod’s eyes closed briefly, then opened again. The ghost of a smile touched his lips. “Gone.”

“Don’t lie to me.” Rose knelt beside him, keeping the gun aimed at his head while her free hand searched his pockets. Nothing. “Where is it?”

“Safe.” Blood bubbled at the corner of his mouth. “Evidence… against you.”

Panic surged through Rose again. The sirens were closer now, maybe only blocks away. “Tell me where it is, or I’ll make your last moments very painful.”

Herod’s breathing had grown more labored. Each word seemed to cost him tremendous effort. “You… can’t… hurt me… anymore.”

Rose stood, aiming the gun directly at his face. “Last chance. Where’s the recorder?”

“With… someone… who’ll know… what to do…” Herod’s voice faded to a whisper. “Charles… would be… proud.”

Rage exploded in Rose’s chest. Even dying, Herod defied her. Even with a gun pointed at his face, he wouldn’t give her what she wanted.

Her finger tightened on the trigger.

The sirens screamed into the parking lot outside, red and blue lights flashing through the thin curtains. Car doors slammed. Voices shouted commands.

Rose didn’t have time for a clean shot anymore. She needed to run.

She fired once more, the bullet striking the floor beside Herod’s head. Not a kill shot, but enough to make her point. “This isn’t over,” she hissed, then turned and ran for the bathroom window.

It was small, but Rose was smaller. She forced it open and squeezed through, dropping into the narrow alley behind the motel. Her car was out front, now blocked by FBI vehicles. She’d have to find another way out.

Behind her, shouts came from the motel room. They’d found Herod. Soon they’d be looking for her.

Rose ran through the alley, away from the motel, away from the sirens, away from the man she’d shot but not killed. Her mind raced with possibilities, contingency plans forming and dissolving with each step.

Herod might survive. He might tell them everything. But without the recorder, without proof, it would be his word against hers. And Rose had always been very good at making people believe her.

She’d need a new identity. New papers. Money. She’d had all of that arranged already, in case their plan went wrong. In case they needed to disappear after destroying Camille and Victoria Kane.

Now, she’d use those preparations to save herself.

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