Page 55 of Grissom
Where, oh, where was Grissom?And how had this mean-spirited woman breached his security system? The brick laying just outside the deck door couldn’t be how she’d gotten inside; the glass doors weren’t broken, not even cracked. The crowbar tossed aside on the deck hadn’t been used, either. There was no damage to the sliders. None at all. All evidence pointed to the charming little boy holding that goody bag. Luke. Grissom’sthree-year-old. He must’ve remembered the four-digit security code. He’d let his mother in.
“So what’d you do, Pam? Decide to stay behind, miss the tour, and…?”Do something as cruel to Estes as what you did to Tanner? Sabotage his plane? Kill him and everyone with him? Just because he made you mad?Tuesday had no idea how someone like Pam could be smart enough to do that.
“Ha!” Pam’s head jerked back again in what might be a sign of a nervous disorder, as hard as it rocked her balance. “Used my knife, what’d you think? Stabbed a few holes in his wing. Dumb shit didn’t know he was losing gasoline when he took off.”
“That would work,” Tuesday hummed to herself. Wings on most small aircraft were gas tanks. Susceptible and exposed, out in the open. Ready targets waiting for a deranged, jealous woman to come along.
“The dick put that slut in my seat! My! Seat!” Man, this woman could scream. “He set her ass up front, right beside him! In the fucking cockpit! You bet I killed him. Killed her and the fools with him, too. What was I supposed to do? Sit in the back like a nobody? After I paid his way home? Let him get away with treating me like a whore?”
Tuesday almost answered,‘You mean after you stole Grissom’s sons and his hard-earned paycheck.’But her migraine was pounding a drum solo in time with the blaring alarm, and poor Luke was listing to one side. His eyes were closed and bits of whatever treat Pam had given him were sliding out between his drooling lips. “What did you give him?”
Pam turned coy. “Something he likes. Gummies. They’re his favorite.”
“Uh-uh! She gave him poison, Miss Tuesday!” Tanner yelled from where he stood behind his brother, both boys still in their Christmas pajamas. “She told him not to give me none. Said it was only for good boys and I’m—”
“You’re worthless!” Pam screeched. “Never were good for anything! I brought that treat for Luke, not you. They’re to keep my baby calm until I get him out of here!”
My baby? Like hell.“No!” Tuesday yelled over the din of the raucous alarm. “You gave these sweethearts to me, and I’m not giving them back. You need to leave, before Grissom comes back.”
“I’m already here,” Grissom growled behind Tuesday. His hand on her shoulder should’ve released the tension running through her like flaming det cord. It didn’t. If anything, his presence made everything worse. He stepped around Tuesday, closing in on Pam with both fists clenched. “What have you done?” he barked.
“Drop the weapon, Pam,” Alex ordered. “It’s over.”
“Or what?” she spat, her pistol still pointed at Tanner. “You’ll shoot me? In front of my sons? I don’t think so.”
“Try me.” Alex’s voice turned deadly calm.
Everything was happening too fast. Grissom had turned into a charging bull, and the pistol in Pam’s hand was the matador’s red cape. Something snapped deep in Tuesday’s gut.
Tanner and Luke needed their dad more than they needed her.
Grissom needed to get his baby boy to the ER.
His. Son.Not Tuesday’s son. Never Tuesday’s child.
This was why she’d survived when her mom, dad, and Freddie hadn’t. For this moment. For this right here and right now. This was why she’d ended Maeve Astor, not the other way around. All those deaths had brought Tuesday Smart to this precise day and time. To this very second. She was only alive so Tanner and Luke would always have their dad.
So be it.
Tuesday burst off the balls of her feet and plowed past Grissom, elbowing him aside and out of her way. With oneshoulder lowered for maximum impact, Tuesday collided with her target, digging her clenched fingers into Pam’s throat, while she fought to get that pistol out of her fist.
“Get off me!” Pam shrieked, jerking backward.
Like she thought she could take on the mother bear Tuesday had become?
“No! Tuesday, no!” Grissom bellowed.
“Miss Tuesday! No! She’s gonna kill you!” That was Tanner. Bless his pure little heart.
“Son of a bitch!” Alex roared.
But the wheels were already in motion, and Luke’s future was sure. Tuesday understood everything now. Her life had always been forfeit, and that was okay. She’d never be a mother, but she could perform this one last motherly act. It would be her ultimate pleasure to die for the people she loved.
Before Pam could change directions and fire, Tuesday pulled her in for a smothering hug. A hug too tight and too close. A hug too personal to allow the demented woman to move, much less aim with precision. Pam couldn’t see past Tuesday. The pistol was trapped between them. If it went off now, it would kill her or Pam. That was the only way to save everyone else. It was the right thing to do.
BOOM!The handgun jerked against Tuesday’s ribs. She felt the impact. A scorching finger of death ripped through her flesh. She felt the burn. She smelled the coppery scent of singed flesh and blood. Her skin. Her blood.
Like the insane freak she was, Pam cackled, “I got you, bitch!”
