Harlan Coben - Stay close

Broome stopped.

“Anyway, let’s skip ahead a few months. To Mardi Gras night. Mr. Wonderful Hubby gets pissed drunk and takes a tire iron to me. So I killed him. Just like that. And you know what, Broome?”

“What?” he said.

“It was the best thing I ever did. I was free and happy.”

“No remorse?”

“Just the opposite, Broome. What’s the opposite of remorse?” Lorraine snapped her fingers when the answer came to her. “Pure satisfaction. That’s what I felt. I moved into the city, got a job at La Creme, and well, every Mardi Gras, I celebrated my freedom, if you will, by helping another girl go free. You know the rest.”

“Not really.”

“Oh?”

“I don’t know the part where you decided to celebrate your freedom and pure satisfaction by turning into a serial killer.”

Lorraine chuckled at that. “Serial killer. Ooo. Sounds so… I don’t know… Hannibal Lecter or something. But it’s a fair point. I could remind you that every guy I killed deserved it. They were all scum, beating girls at the clubs, ruining lives. So, yeah, that was part of it. I could also remind you that by killing those losers, I gave many girls a second chance. No one missed these guys. A couple of the wives even pleaded with you not to find their husbands, didn’t they?”

“That doesn’t excuse what you did.”

“No, it doesn’t, does it? I mean, I use it as a justification, certainly. We kill innocent animals, right? These guys were worse. I had my outlet. But you’re right. It’s not really an excuse. I can only tell you this, Broome. You’ll think it’s odd, but maybe you’ll get it. You called me a serial killer before, but my theory is, and, yeah, this will sound strange”-her voice became a whisper-“but there are a lot of us out there.”

The temperature in the room dropped a few degrees.

“Think of them as sleepers, Broome. Millions of them, I bet. A lot of people are natural-born killers, serial or otherwise. They just don’t know it. I mean, how would you ever know, if you never did the deed? I had no idea, see, and then I killed Mr. Wonderful and it was like opening a floodgate. It felt so good. Not just because he deserved it. But the very act itself.”

Police sirens shattered the morning air.

Lorraine sighed. “We don’t have much time, Broome. I guess the rest of the answers will have to wait.”

“Wait for what?”

She didn’t reply. Broome wondered what that meant-what she planned on doing. Surrounding her house with police cars would not be helpful. Broome glanced down at the dead body.

“Why, Lorraine?”

“Weren’t you listening?”

“Because they deserved it.”

“Yes. And because I liked it. They needed killing. I needed to kill.”

It was, in the end, as simple as that.

A bullhorn sounded. “Lorraine Griggs? This is the police.”

Lorraine gestured toward the window. “Our time is up.”

“So what are you going to do now?”

“Do?”

“What’s your plan?” Broome spread his arms. “Are you going to, what, enjoy one more kill before they arrest you?”

“Ah Broome,” Lorraine said, giving him a smile that shattered his heart anew. “I’d never hurt you. Not in a million years.”

He looked at her, confused.

The bullhorn again: “Lorraine Griggs. This is the police…”

“I got it all planned out,” she said to him. “This is where it ends. I told you yesterday. I’m dying. I don’t want to spend my last days on the lam.”

She spun the gun on her finger. The barrel was now pointed at her.

Broome said, “Don’t.”

“What?” She looked down at the barrel. “You thought I was going to kill myself? Oh, that’s sweet, Broome, but, no, that’s not my plan.”

Lorraine handed him the gun and held up her hands. “Arrest time.”

“So that’s it? You’re just going to surrender?”

“Yep, hon, that’s it.” She once again gave him the crooked smile. “Stick a fork in me, I’m done.”

Broome just looked at her. “I don’t know what to say, Lorraine.”

Her eyes flicked to the door then back to him. “Remember how you said you’d be there when I die?”

Broome nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

“So here’s your big chance to prove you’re not a liar.” There were tears in her eyes now. “Promise me you won’t just leave me. Promise me you’ll stay close.”

“Are you ready? ” the doctor asked.

Del Flynn nodded. He held his beautiful Maria’s hand. The doctor pulled out the feeding tube and disconnected her breathing apparatus. Del knew that somewhere outside this room, the cops were steadily closing in on him and Goldberg, but that was okay. He had already lost whatever really mattered. This-what was going on right here, right now-was all that mattered now.

Del never left Maria’s side. He never let go of the hand. For eight hours, he talked to Maria about the first time he had ever seen her, how he knew even then that they were destined to be together. He laughed about their first date, how he stumbled jumping out of the car to open the door for her. He recounted every second of the day Carlton was born, how he had nearly fainted at the sight, how he had never seen her look more beautiful than when she held her little boy. And in the end, when there were only scant minutes left in Maria’s life, he started to sob. He begged her to forgive him. He pleaded for her not to leave him all alone. He ranted and raved, but he never told her what had happened to Carlton.

Maria died with Del holding her hand.

Before Ray Levine was released from prison, he agreed to help the authorities try to find the remains of Stewart Green. His lawyer, Flair Hickory, drew up the papers. In exchange for his help, Flair demanded that no charges be filed against his client. The county prosecutor’s office quickly agreed. In the end, Ray Levine would only be guilty of disposing of a dead body anyway, a crime where the statute of limitations had long since passed.

At the request of Sarah Green, Stewart Green’s widow, Broome was put in charge of the search party. Ray Levine led them down yet another hidden path-so many hidden paths in this case-to the remote cliff where he had hurled the bundled and bagged body parts into a lake.

In something of a final shock, the divers found a few of them still intact.

So now they were all at the cemetery, lowering the remains of Stewart Green into the earth. Sarah, officially widowed now, stood between her daughter, Susie, and her son, Brandon. Broome watched their faces and wondered what next. Sarah had been living in that state of suspended animation for so long he worried that she wouldn’t be able to move out of it.

For others, life had moved on. Ricky Mannion, for example, had been exonerated of the murder conviction and released from Rahway. When he walked out of the gates, no one was there to meet him.

The casket hit the bottom of the hole.

Broome had just come from yet another visit/interrogation with Lorraine. She would only talk to him-that was her rule-but then he was free to discuss what he learned with others. At first, he wondered what her game was, why, other than exhaustion and not wanting to be on the lam, she had so easily surrendered and what all that talk about a “plan” was.

It took some time, but eventually he got it.

Broome had become Lorraine’s confidant and confessor, and while he hated to admit it, he still liked being with her, which, of course, might explain his troubled relationships with women.

Lorraine knew that he had questions still, so she tried her best to answer them. During their last private meeting, he said, “Tell me about Ross Gunther.”