Page 121 of A Smile Full of Lies
Thayer spun toward her, but he was too slow. And she didn’t miss.
Not once. She pulled the trigger once, twice, a third time. Two to the chest, one to the head. His head snapped back as red mist and brain matter exploded out the back of his skull. For what felt like forever, he stood there, still as stone.
The ringing in my ears wouldn’t stop. It pulsed like a war drum, dull and distant — like my brain couldn’t keep up with how fast my blood was leaving my body.
Finally, I heard Thayer hit the floor, the thud heavy and final. His fingers were still tight around the knife
Boots moved across the tile, deliberate and fast. Alyssa stepped over me and knelt by his side. Her gloved fingers pressed to his neck, her jaw locked tight.
One beat. Two. Three.
“No pulse,” she said. Her voice was calm, clipped, cop mode fully engaged.
No shit. His brains are all over the fucking kitchen.
She straightened and reached for her radio.
“Shots fired at 308 Harper Lane. Suspect down. Repeat — suspect down. I need EMS on sitenow. Victim is conscious but bleeding heavily from a slash wound to the left side and a stab wound to the chest.”
Then she dropped to her knees beside me, her hands on my face, grounding me.
“Ros,” she said, eyes wild with worry now that the threat was gone. “Hey. Look at me.”
I tried. I really did, but my vision kept tunneling.
“Stay with me, babe,” she said, voice soft but sharp as a blade. “I need you to hold on, okay? Help is on the way.”
I shivered violently. My lips felt cold. My jaw wouldn’t unclench.
“Did it work?” I rasped through clenched teeth. “Did we get enough?—”
“We got everything,” Alyssa said. “He confessed. You did fucking incredible.”
Her hands were already pressing gauze against my side and chest, applying pressure to both wounds.
“You’re gonna be okay. Just hold on.”
I tried to nod, but the room spun and everything went black.
ALYSSA
Ros’s voice cut out with a sickening thud as her body crumpled sideways on the floor, blood smearing across the polished marble like someone had sliced open a vein of red ink.
“No — no, no, no?—”
I was already moving, adrenaline flooding every nerve ending. My gun was still warm from the kill shot. Thayer’s body lay twisted on the floor in a halo of red, butcher knife still clutched in his slack hand. I didn’t check him again. I’d felt the impact. Knew from the sound and recoil that I’d put two bullets center mass and one right between his eyes. He was gone.
Ros wasn’t… not yet.
She was bleeding fast, too fast. A deep, arterial gash sliced across her floating ribs, low and stopping near her belly button. Then there was the puncture wound high and close to her heart. Her pulse thudded faintly beneath her skin, but her eyelids fluttered with a weakness I didn’t like one fucking bit.
“Ros,” I snapped, “Don’t you dare die on me. Knox will skin me alive if you die.”
I pressed one hand against her chest wound, the other going for my shoulder mic.
“Dispatch, this is Detective Allen. I need immediate medical assistance at 308 Harper Lane, unit 3B. Civilian stabbing, female victim unconscious and losing blood. Suspect is down. Repeat, suspect is down. Shots fired, one fatal. Send backup and EMS now.”
I didn’t wait for a response. Tossed the mic, grabbed my field kit, and yanked gauze from the pouch like my hands were on fire. Pressed hard. Too hard. She whimpered — but that meant she was still with me. Still fighting.
