“Did you do everything else we talked about?” asked the voice on the other end.
“Yes. I didn’t have to go through security, so explaining the gun was no issue
.
B
esides
,
the cop on duty has seen it before.”
“Good. You made sure no one else was on the floor and left down the stairwell?”
Stella reached for the cigarette smoldering in the ashtray on the glass coffee table, her hand remarkabl
y
steady for a woman who’d just shot her husband. “I did. By the way, thanks for taking care of the security cameras on that level and the lights around
the
ground floor exit.
It was just like you said
:
unguarded
.
“I also locked his office door when I left, like we discussed, so maybe no one will find the sniveling worm until early morning. Although once in a while, the night cleaning crew comes in ahead of schedule
.
A
ctually
,
they could be there about now. Either way, I’m ready.”
Static rolled softly to her ear as her new confidant, one of them, grew silent. She heard soft breathing filter through the handset. It reminded her of rhythmic waves echoing against the ship’s hull while Gavin and she had
held each other
in their cabin on the
Ocean Duchess
. Gavin had insisted on leaving th
eir balcony
door open as they sailed the Caribbean
,
and he had been
correct
;
the effect was almost magical. At least
he’d been
right about one thing.
But that’s where he lost it,
wasn’t
it? That’s when he stopped being the cop, the man, the protector she had fallen in love with. He’d changed. He was no longer Mike
’
s hero or her knight in shining armor,
her lover and
her
rock
,
but instead a pathetic, depressed old man scared of his own shadow. She felt the anger rise like heat in a sauna, her disgust evolving from a
crevice
to a canyon.
He had failed to protect Lexy, like a good cop would have, and let her die like a slaughtered lamb. Now their son’s life was in shambles. The boy was so far down the well of despondency that he might never crawl out. It made her heart ache like only
a
mother’s can. But she couldn’t really blame
Mike
;
it wasn’t his fault. Seeing what Argyle had done to his new bride, her
precious
daughter-in-
law
,
would widen anyone’s path toward insanity.
Stella crossed her long legs and exhaled. She sensed the smoke twirl and waltz, responding to a sonata it
alone
could hear.
Gavin had failed at his most basic assignment
:
protect thy family
. The FBI, Manny Williams, all of them, were responsible, but Gavin was the patriarch of the Crosby clan. I
t
all fell on him. But not anymore. His reign was over. If he couldn’t
handle
things, she
—they—
would. The law had let her down and ruined everyone close to her. It was time to
balance that scale
.
“You did the right thing, Stella. You know that, don’t you?”
Emotion surprised
her
with unexpected
resolve. It rushed
the steel wall of disdain and hatred she had constructed against her husband
. F
or a brief moment,
it
threaten
ed
her newly-discovered religion
. She massaged away the lone tear. It
had
been the right thing to do. Weakness could no longer be tolerated
, a
nd Gavin Crosby had come to personify frailty
.
T
hat made him expendable, husband or not.
She sat up straight and
steadied
herself. “I know.”
“Remember what we’ve set out to do,” encouraged the voice.
“It’s all I think about. I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but we have a chance to make a difference.”
“I’m sure men like Mitchell Mor
se
and Siggie Ashcroft wouldn’t agree, maybe even Manny and the rest, but they don’t get a vote. Not anymore.”
Stella heard the tiny laugh at the other end and found herself smiling
,
too. “And the last two nights are only the beginning.”
The land line rang and
the caller ID said it was from
the Department. “It’s them. We’ll talk later.” Stella hung up.
She let it ring three more times and finally answered in her best
“
you
just
woke
me
up
”
voice
.
“Gavin?”
There was
a
small, pregnant pause
,
and she heard someone catch their breath. “Mrs. Crosby, this is Officer
Swift
down at the station. Ma’am, I’ve sent a car to pick you up
—
”
“Why? What’s going on?”
s
he interrupted,
false
panic searing through her voice.
“I’
m not sure how to say this, but
the Chief has been shot.”
Chapter
-19
“You’re not as bright as I thought, are you
,
my
fine
Detective?”
said
Dr. Fredrick Argyle, wiping away the last of the temporary
blond
dye that had covered his now wavy
,
brown hair. He dabbed at a few last streaks
watching the slow, confid
e
nt smile spread over his chiseled face
. They would never put it together. He was going to sail out of St. Thomas, free as a bird, and move forward with the end game he’d so meticulously put together over the last three months.
Too bad. He would have preferred the other contingency. Plan A would’ve been ideal.
So this is the best law enforcement available? No wonder the country was going to
hell
in a handbasket. But then again, who was like him?
He stretched to his full six-foot
-
four frame, ogled the mirror
,
and marveled at his physi
que
. Gods had to look the part, too, and he certainly had accomplished that. There was no match mentally, and he could hold his own with anyone physically. God was a good word.
After one last look, Argyle moved back to the bed, finished unpacking
,
and
then moved to the balcony facing the
h
arbor and Charlotte-Amalie. The waxing moon appeared to be almost full
,
sending
glittering moonbeams off the ocean
.
It was b
eautiful by any standard.
Yet, dichotom
ies
like th
e
deceitful moon existed everywhere.
S
hining beauty hid the dark, cold, unseen,
and even
deadly
persona
that everyone possessed
.
He was just more honest than most. More real. More god
-
like.
But he
did
recognize beauty when he saw it.
The misconception that men like him were incapable of
such appreciations
was not entirely true. Most of
the social interaction was an act
, a lesson in mimicry. But appreciation wears many faces
,
and he did enjoy the island
qualities;
it seemed to enhance his fairly new journey from
prison
drudgery to absolute liberty.
He felt the blood rush thro
ugh
his body. He could do anything he wanted. The lack of inhibition, of any dictated moral compass
,
allowed it. Freedom. The very word resonated truth. So what if there was collateral damage
?
A small price to pay to see his genius manifested.
Shifting his feet, he frowned. Men like Manny Williams
failed to
understand
,
but he would do his best to help with the detective’s education, and soon. After that, when he was through with Williams, his family, and the rest of
the
Lansing
idiot
s
, he’d make
an unexpected visit to an FBI agent or two.
The attractive Chloe Franson could be an
endeavor
worthy of his attention.
Worthy indeed.
Then he would dedicate himself to a more far
-
reaching purpose, one worthy of his vast abilities. His disdain for politicians in general could be cultivated to include some serious accountability for the corrupt, the crooked. Maybe a face-to-face with the President could be arranged. What about getting
an
audience with Billy Graham or even the Pope? The things they could “discuss
.
” But who knew for sure? The world was his oyster
,
and there was no one to stop him. Life was good
,
his
life
.
Argyle
strolled
in from the balcony and removed
his shirt
, turn
ed
out the lights, and
spread
out on the bed.
His overloaded mind began to unwind just as the knock came to his door.
Ah. It was time
.
He sat up, realizing instantly that someone had figured out his location
. . .
and that Manny Williams couldn’t be in two places at the same time. He smiled.
Let’s see how good they really are
.
He
slipped on his shirt
, grabbed his bag, took one last look around the room
,
and went to the verandah door. He would simpl
y
swing down or over to another balcony and make his escape that way. They really were
dense
to think he
didn’t have this part of the game planned. He’d give Williams kudos the next time they met. No one else would have gotten this far.
He slid the glass door open
,
and stepped directly into the barrel of a Glock
.
40. Two more weapons pressed against the side of his head and chest.
“Good evening Dr. Argyle,
you have no idea how
nice
it is to see
you
again
,”
taunted Manny
.
Chapter
-20
Three thirty
a.m. never felt so good. Manny watched as Argyle, surrounded by armed and ready local officers, was folded into the backseat of a small police cruiser. As the taillights of the miniature convoy disappeared
en route for
the island’s police headquarters, he simply couldn’t stop grinning. His body was fully alive, awake, like he
had
dr
u
nk
a little too much coffee right after a chocolate rush. Adrenaline
will
do that to you, but he thought it the best fe
e
ling he’d had in years.
They had done it. Dr. Fredrick Argyle would never hurt anyone outside
of a
prison again. The FBI’s field
agents
from San Juan would pick
Argyle
up in a few hours
,
process the paperwork, (there was always paperwork), ship him to Miami, and then in a few days
or a week,
to Lansing where he would stand trial for the murders of Sylvia Martin, Liz Casnovsky, Lexy Crosby, and Eric Hayes.
No case
was ever
open
and
shut
, but this would be as close as it came.
“So, you going with me to interrogate this creep?” asked Josh.
More grinning. He looked to the others standing in a loose huddle, talking in excited, low tones. Then back to
A
gent Corner.