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“I don’t like it when heroes turn out to be the bad guys.” Detective Lynn Baker glowered as she stood behind her desk. “Makes my job one major pain in the ass.”
Beau grunted. His stitches pulled but he wasn’t about to complain. He was finally out of the hospital. No charges were being filed against him. And Avalon was safe. One hundred percent safe. “What about when the bad guy turns out to be the hero? How do you feel about that situation?”
Avalon’s soft fingers slid down his arm. “We have been over this. You are not the bad guy.”
“Debatable,” Detective Cunningham muttered as he perched on the edge of Lynn’s desk. “Still not so sure you needed to fire four times.”
Ah, such a suspicious man. “I was out of my mind because of the horse tranquilizer that Wesley Vaughn had given me when he drugged and abducted me. I saw him coming at Avalon with the knife, and I reacted. I was afraid he’d stab her or try to pull her back into the flames.” Or do both because he was a crazy, murdering bastard. “I barely remember pulling the trigger.” Oh, yes, he did remember firing. Again and again.
Had to make sure he was dead.
“You have plenty of evidence to tie Wesley Vaughn to the crimes,” Avalon said. Voice crisp. “Frankly, you should be thanking Beau. It’s because of him that a dangerous predator was finally stopped. I know the cops and Feds have been able to tie Wesley with dozens of arsons now.”
Yeah, dozens. And they feared there were more. The man had been starting fires for years. Then he’d go in with the other firefighters and put out many of the fires he’d created. The guy had been a sick sonofabitch.
Just as sick as his buddy, Everett Thomas.
Wesley Vaughn. Not the man’s real name. Turned out, his dental records and his fingerprints had traced back to a Daniel Alexander. Kid who’d aged out of the foster care system in New Orleans and seemingly vanished. Only he hadn’t really vanished. He and Everett had just moved on.
Daniel Alexander had reinvented himself as Wesley Vaughn. He’d become a firefighter so he could get close to the flames that he loved so much. And he’d continued his killing ways.
What were the odds that two twisted killers had found each other when they were so young? The Feds seemed fascinated by their cases.
They’d grown up together, perfected their crimes together. Turned into monsters together. And now, they were both in hell together. Fitting. Or at least, Beau thought it was fitting.
“You really don’t remember seeing Everett and Wesley together when you were a teen?” Lynn asked Avalon. Her question brought Beau’s attention snapping back to her.
Avalon shook her head. “I had my birthday party at the country club that year. But no one…no one drowned.”
“Because you interrupted before they could kill her,” Beau growled.
“I don’t remember.” Her head turned toward him. Her gaze was stark. Sad. “And that’s one of the things that guts me. We just go through our lives and don’t even realize that there are victims out there—victims every single moment. They could be right in front of us, and we don’t see them.” A shake of her head. “I didn’t see her.” A tear twisted down her cheek. She swiped it away. “I barely recall that birthday at all.”
“We think we found her.” From Cunningham. “Or at least, found out who she could have been. A sixteen-year-old girl named Cassidy Gorgas was reported as a runaway around the time of Avalon’s house fire in New Orleans. She worked as a waitress at the country club. The Feds are going to talk to her family. Looks like she might have been an early victim of the Slasher.”
Back when he’d been trying to figure out how he liked to kill.
Water muted their screams.
Beau saw Avalon swipe away another tear from her cheek. He ached, but not from the stitches this time. He hated her pain. “Sweetheart…”
Her head turned toward him. “I wish that I could remember Cassidy. But when I think about that time, all I remember is fire and fear and you.” Her hand lifted to brush his cheek. “Always you. You saved me. No one saved her.”
His head turned. His lips pressed to her palm. “You saved me, sweetheart.” In ways she probably would never imagine.
“Yeah, she did.” A murmur from Cunningham. “Drove a damn Jag through a wall to save your ass. Almost hit me in the process.”
Avalon pressed another kiss to Beau’s palm. “You were clear, Detective Cunningham.” Prim. “You were busy fighting with Royal.”
“Thought he might be the bad guy. I rushed to the scene because Ophelia and Lane said it was an emergency situation. At the time, I didn’t know that Royal was the one who’d texted them to come to LeBlanc’s.” A sigh. “I got there and saw him banging on your car’s windshield like a maniac. I tried to help.”
The cop had helped. So Beau wasn’t using his nickname any longer. Or at least, not for the moment. The cop’s handcuff key and gun had come in mighty handy.
“So, are we free to go?” Beau asked. There were no charges against him. Douglas had already been clear on that score. The DA was currently trying to sort through every fire case that Wesley Vaughn had ever worked in the area. The DA and the Feds were unraveling a spider web of lies and secrets tied to both Everett and Wesley.
Two serial killers. Together for far too long.
“You’re free.” Cunningham slid off the edge of the desk. “Try to stay on the straight and narrow, would you?”
