Page 64 of The Engagement Party

In the worst of all outcomes, Brendan’s murder became a rallying cry for a few to justify more killings. A rage-filled, grief-stricken genius turned into an emotional black hole who thrived on chaos.

Another killer was born.

Chapter Forty-Eight

Ruthie

Thanks to a combination of panic and inexperience, Ruthie had placed the gun too high up on her thigh. Covertly reaching up under all that material to grab it proved tricky. She needed to time this perfectly and not attract Dylan’s attention, not provoke him, before her finger hit the trigger.

She knew too well what he was capable of doing because she’d created him.

“Who wants to confess first? Any volunteers?” Dylan looked around the room as if he expected someone to raise their hand.

The gun remained trained on them. He handled the weapon like the expert he was. They’d spent hours together at the shooting range under the guise of teaching her how to defend herself. He’d been obsessed with her safety and determined that she never become a victim. Now who lived and who died might be determined by which one of them possessed the better shooting accuracy and if he still believed she deserved saving.

Ruthie felt the uncomfortable tick of someone staring at her. Sierra forced eye contact before her gaze wandered down to Ruthie’s leg and back up again. When she did it a second time,Ruthie got the message. The gun. She dreaded using it but responded with a tiny bob of her head.

Sierra cleared her throat, silently demanding Dylan look at her. “You’re asking someone to step up and make themselves a target.”

“Exactly.”

That voice. The singsong quality, so amused and in control, toying and playing with them, told Ruthie that he’d tipped over the edge. Gone was the hopeful computer nerd who thrived on finding answers. A man confident in his beliefs and driven by an unmet need pounding inside him to find the truth. Brilliant but socially awkward. A guy who experienced pain and slowly, over months of burying himself in online theories and conspiracy nonsense, now wanted to inflict pain on others. Despite who he once was and all that promise, he now presented as an evil shell of a man consumed by a stark determination to kill.

She’d started this. She’d failed to understand how loyal he was to his idea of justice and how deep his vein of rage ran. She’d unleashed this horror. Now, she had to rein it in or risk becoming a target.

“You can walk away. Stop this right now.” Ruthie jerked at the lack of strength in her voice. She’d aimed for confident, but a squeaky tone came out. She could not show fear no matter how much it bubbled up inside her.

Dylan finally looked at her. The full intensity of his focus knocked the breath out of her. She stumbled over her words, searched her mind to find the right ones. He’d blown her well-structured plan to hell. Used her notes and her life until nothing was left but a twisted carcass of a plan. He introduced a level of danger she couldn’t control.

She’d spent the last half hour desperate to stay under the radar, trying to figure out a way to hold her scheme together while minimizing his. But that wasn’t possible.

“You’ve scared the hell out of everyone. You’ve proven you’re more powerful. Smarter. No one questions your abilities or your will.” She spoke directly to him on a private level she knew he’d understand if he could snap out of this role. “They now know they can’t hide from you. That you’ll be watching, and they’ll spend every day of their lives waiting for you to come after them. You’ve won.”

“Have I?”

She refused to get sucked into this mess any deeper. She needed control. There was no way to fix the hellish damage he’d done, but she could contain the carnage going forward. Stop the bleeding... literally. “You can leave now and disappear.”

Cassie made a noise that sounded like a gasp but, for once, she stayed quiet. They all did. Ruthie had their rapt attention. More important, she had Dylan’s.

“Why should I do that?” he asked in a deadly quiet voice.

She’d started their relationship by appealing to his sense of fairness. After a month of watching his online interactions, she’d fed him a line about being a decent man who’d lived through the unthinkable. He gave her a small opening and she moved into his life. She told him what she needed and, in a short time, his compulsion fed off hers. She thought that meant they were in sync, but his thoughts grew disjointed. All those conspiracies other sleuthers offered twisted and turned in his head. His rage grew as his thin and fraying tie to reality stretched then snapped. He talked about killing without remorse.

She’d had no choice but to cut him off after a few months andignore all those plans they discussed, some possible and some too ridiculous to try. She moved. Changed her number. Pushed aside his needs and focused on her own.

Instead of working with him, she went right to the source and insinuated herself into Will’s life. He was the easiest target of the Bowdoin group because he was so clearly floundering when it came to interpersonal relationships. She’d studied and knew that Will, unlike Mitch, welcomed companionship.

She figured Dylan would cry foul but then slink back into his own life. Find another person to latch on to. She thought he had because he stopped all contact, but now she knew better. He’d been waiting and creating his own ending to her story. This. The “bloodbath” he’d referenced, only in this version he stole the spotlight.

“You’re not really a killer.” At least he wasn’t until he’d met her.

He smiled. “I think I’ve proven I am.”

“You’re talking to him like... I don’t... it sounds personal, right?” Will asked.

The question made Dylan laugh. “Yeah, Ruthie. Care to explain to the group?”

“I’m begging. Don’t do this.” She knew her comment could be taken so many ways, and that was on purpose.

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