Page 67 of Traces of Kara

“Marissa!” Roland’s voice came closer, echoing outside the door.

Hot tears streamed down Mimi’s cheeks. This was how they would die, and it would be all her fault. If only she’d put him into an institution. If only she’d moved further away. If only…she’d not fallen in love with Al. Poor Al. He’d died protecting them. I’m sorry, Al. Her mind jumped to Ted. Renewed tears fell. She’d let him down, too. For all she knew, Roland had killed him, and Jackson, too. Oh God, what had she done?

Fear gathered around her like a cloak, constricting her chest. Her rapid heartbeat pulsated within her aching body. She counted each second, placing small kisses on Kara’s forehead, pushing hair away from her beautiful face. “I’m sorry,” Mimi whispered again. She touched Kara’s chest, feeling for a heartbeat. She felt movement under her hand. Her own heart skipped with hope. She leaned down, putting her cheek next to her daughter’s mouth. A rush of breath pushed through her lips.

There was a clanking sound outside the door.

“Mimi,” Roland’s voice was deep, his tone even and dark.

Mimi listened to the sound of something being pushed across the floor. A clank, followed by a harsh thump. Mimi jumped, despite her constant internal urging to remain still.

The wheels of the metal cart skittered across the floor.

Shit. She imagined Roland’s hands clawing at the equipment, the frenetic way his eyes scanned a room. She remembered his eyes when he was just a boy—shadowed and manipulative—always calculating. She’d taken to waking in the night, just to check on Marissa. Roland had treated her as if he owned her, as if Marissa were part of him, rather than a twin. She remembered the way Roland had eyed her, even at the age of three. At first, she’d thought it was cute, the way he’d called her, “My Marissa.” That adorable connotation quickly turned to an obsessive protection of her. He would hover around her, watching, waiting to insert himself between Mimi and Marissa. He’d cut off Marissa mid-sentence, commanding she follow his lead. Mimi’s muscles tensed at the memories.

The doorknob turned, and the door flew open. Roland stood, the outline of his hulking figure spilling into the room where Mimi and Kara hid behind the equipment.

Mimi swallowed hard, trying not to breathe. Her eyes were riveted on Roland’s silhouette. The menacing bottle of antifreeze hung heavily from his right hand. His left arm was hidden in the darkness. She listened to his heavy, labored breaths.

Roland took a step into the room. His putrid odor wafted toward Mimi. Her heart lodged itself in her throat. She was sure he could hear the echo of each rapid beat.

Chapter Fifty

“Greer’s got an entire arsenal of information on ways to kill without signs—mostly poisons.” Grant listened to his officer relay the message from Lieutenant Huang. “They said he’s got notebooks stacked twelve high with information about someone named Marissa, which, near as I can tell from the photo of the house, is Kara Knight.”

“Right, I know.”

“Who’s Marissa?” The young officer didn’t wait for a response. “They found a calendar, Detective, and today’s date is circled in red with an “X” across it. It’s Greer’s birthday.”

Grant covered his eyes. “Shit.”

Jackson sat in the passenger seat, shivering beneath the heavy police blanket. The firehouse alarm rang out in the distance, loud and rhythmic.

“Where the hell’s the FBI?” Grant asked.

“On their way, I think. They called to assess, and we hadn’t heard from you, so we thought it wasn’t urgent. Then Huang called a few minutes ago, and—”

“Jesus. Who’ve I got for backup?”

“Morris and me. The Lodge convention was tonight. I called over there. He’s the only one sober enough.”

The high pitched ambulance sirens sounded in the distance. Grant shook his head. “Well, get your ass over here. Tell Morris he’s got two minutes.” He looked at Jackson. “Do me a favor, will ya? Have dispatch call Nancy Darner.”

Jackson shook his head vehemently.

Grant covered the mouthpiece and lifted his eyebrows.

“No. I don’t want her anywhere near here. I’ll wait here, in the car. Or, or I can drive myself home. Please, don’t call her.”

Grant listened to Jackson’s fret-filled plea with a heavy heart. He eyed the inside of the vehicle, then glanced back at the plant. With a sigh he said, “Fine, but don’t you get out of this car for anything.” He lowered his chin, staring up with a serious glare. “Not one step.”

Jackson shook his head so fast his cheeks shook. “No. No, I won’t.”

“Nix the call,” he said into the receiver.

Grant stood outside the patrol car in the pouring rain, watching the flashing red lights of the ambulance above the trees. His heart thumped against his chest. He was too pumped with adrenaline to remain confined in the vehicle, and too smart, now that he knew the situation, to go inside the plant without backup. Grant knew every second counted. He also knew that the ambulance siren might alert Greer and hasten his actions. Grant would be no good to Mimi and Kara dead. He’d have a better chance with backup. They’d move swiftly, now that Jackson had filled him in on where to enter the building—a frickin’ broken window, how clichéd could you get?

The siren silenced as the ambulance drove down the long driveway to the plant. Heavy, rain-soaked branches scraped the top of the large vehicle.