Erica Spindler: Last Known Victim

“Yes,” June said, nodding. “We are. I knew that but you-”

“Didn’t,” she finished for her. “Will you ever forgive me?”

“You had sex with Riley.”

“A mistake. The whole time, I was looking for you, and-” Her voice caught on a small sob. “I didn’t see, you were right there.”

June’s grip on the gun wavered. A tear rolled down Yvette’s cheek. “Hold me,” Yvette pleaded. “Please…just hold me.”

June helped her to her feet, put her arms around her. With a whimper, Yvette brought her cupped hands up, as if to stroke June face.

Instead, with a primal cry, she ground something into June’s eyes.

June howled and fell backward against the vanity, clawing at her eyes.

The gun hit the floor. Yvette dove for it, falling hard, elbows cracking loudly against the tile floor.

She got it, anyway, curled her hands around the grip and pointed it at June, her hands shaking so badly the muzzle bobbed up and down.

“Give me the gun!” Patti ordered. “Let me do this.”

Yvette shook her head. “I can’t. I won’t.”

“Give me the gun,” she said again, more firmly.

“She killed Riley.” Her voice trembled. “Sweet Miss Alma. Tonya. They never hurt anybody. They didn’t hurt her.”

“I did it for you,” June said again, dropping her hands. Her eyes were tearing, the skin around them blotchy and bright red. “So they’re dead because of you.”

“No! That’s not true!”

June’s stance and expression altered subtly, becoming more masculine. “If you hadn’t come on to Riley, like a little whore-” The pitch of her voice changed, deepened. “If not for you he’d be alive.”

“Shut up!” The gun bobbed. “It’s not tru-”

June lunged. Patti shouted for Yvette to watch out. The sound of the weapon discharging was deafening in the small room.

June stumbled backward, a hand to her chest, a look of utter disbelief on her face. Then she went down.

In the distance came the sound of sirens.

The cavalry. Thank God.

With a sob, Yvette dropped the gun. Drawing her knees to her chest, she began to cry deep, wrenching sobs.

Patti dragged herself to the young woman’s side. “You’re going to be okay,” she said, voice cracking. “We are. Because of you.”

She sobbed harder. Patti caught Yvette’s hand, curled her fingers around it. “You saved our lives. You saved mi-”

“I…wouldn’t…count on that.”

Patti’s blood ran cold. Feeling as if life had gone into slow motion, she turned her head. June had the gun. She lifted it, aimed at Yvette.

No! The word resounded through her head even as she mustered all her strength and threw herself on top of Yvette.

The gun went off. One shot. Pain. Intense, searing. She heard Yvette’s scream, the voices of others, shouts. Spencer.

And then silence.

Sunday, May 20, 2007

9:15 a.m.

Patti opened her eyes. Spencer sat beside her hospital bed. He was smiling at her. “Hello, sleepyhead,” he said.

She returned his smile, groggy from pain medication. “Hey.”

“Doc says you’re going to be okay. Bullet went through a fleshy spot, raised a little hell, but didn’t do any permanent damage. As for the scissors, you’re gonna have one ugly-ass scar.”

“Can’t kill someone as ornery as me.” She found the remote and, with his help, raised the bed until she was in a sitting position. “That’s better. How are Stacy and Shauna?”

“Dehydrated. Sick from the mold. Otherwise unharmed.”

She curled her fingers around his. “And you and Stacy?”

“We’re good, Aunt Patti. Really good.” He cleared his throat. “You were right about Yvette. And Franklin. And I was so wrong. If you hadn’t stuck to your guns, Yvette would most likely be dead and Franklin standing trial for a murder he didn’t commit.”

She had found Sammy’s killer. Stopped the Handyman from ever hurting another woman.

Yet she couldn’t rejoice. She had been betrayed by someone she had loved.

Seeing Patti’s expression, he curved his fingers tighter around hers. “I’m sorry, Patti. I can’t believe Aunt June…you know. I just…can’t.”

Neither could she. She might never be able to truly accept it.

“At least I know the truth about Sammy.”

She could let go now. Take the next step in her life.

Yvette tapped on the door. “Can I come in?”

Spencer smiled and stood. “Hey, Yvette. I was just leaving.” He kissed Patti’s cheek, then straightened. He walked to the door, stopped and looked back at Yvette. “By the way, peppermint salt scrub in the eyes? Good thinking.”

When the door clicked shut behind him, Yvette turned to Patti. “I’ve got something for you.” She was grinning, obviously pleased with herself.

“What?”

She crossed to the bed and plopped down on the chair. She held out a check.

Patti frowned. “A check? What for?”

“Take it and see.”

She did. It was made out to Patti O’Shay in the amount of ten thousand dollars.

The deposit to keep her from running.

Patti looked at Yvette in question.

“When I accepted your offer of fifty grand, I thought it’d be enough for me to start a new life. Give me a fresh start, a shiny clean slate. I’d go to school or start my own business.”

“You still could.”

“I’ve already started my new life.” She leaned forward. “It was never about having enough money. It was always about what was inside me.

“You took a bullet for me, just because you believed it was the right thing to do. This way-” she reached out and curved Patti’s fingers gently around the check. “-I’ll have stayed and helped you for all the right reasons.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

Yvette smiled. “I could use a friend? A real one this time.”

Patti returned her smile. “I like the sound of that. Friends.”

Erica Spindler's bestselling novels include Dead Run, Bone Cold, All Fall Down and Cause for Alarm. She lives in the New Orleans area with her husband, an advertising executive, and their two sons.