Page 116 of All the Little Truths

Dempsey grabbed at his throat.

Blood spewed between his fingers as he clawed at the wound and the chopsticks planted deep in his artery.

He crumpled to the floor as the final chorus ...all I want for Christmas is you, baby... filled the air.

“Fin!”

Matt was suddenly holding her against himself, but she couldn’t take her eyes off the man flopping around on the floor like a fish out of water.

“Fin. Oh my God, Fin.” Matt’s fingers gripped her chin. “Are you all right, baby? Look at me.”

But she couldn’t. She had to watch this son of a bitch die. Had to make sure he took his last breath.

When Dempsey had gone utterly still, she collapsed against Matt. Relief flooded her being, and she couldn’t hold back the tears—not if her life had depended upon it.

“Please tell me you’re okay,” he murmured frantically.

He’s dead.

“I’m okay now.”

The nightmare is over.

Cagle Residence

Murfreesboro Road, Franklin, 9:30 p.m.

Finley watched Louise Cagle play “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas” on the baby grand while Matt’s parents, Maureen Downey, Jack, and the Judge sang the lyrics. Finley’s father chimed in from time to time, but mostly he watched his wife and friends and smiled. Finley hadn’t considered until that moment how difficult this terrible secret must have been for him to keep all these years.

The past couple of weeks had been a transformative time for all of them in some way or another. Cagle had been to the salon and gotten her hair done. She looked very much like her old self now. The gray was gone, replaced by a good color job to bring back the blonde of her younger days. Though she was still too thin, her skin had a healthier glow. The surgery and her new medication had her on the right track. She smiled as her fingers flew across the keys, and that smile gave Finley great pleasure. Jack watched the woman’s every move as if he couldn’t resist.

Finley suddenly wondered what life would be like with Jack no longer playing the field. Time would tell, she supposed.

Matt’s folks were thrilled that he and Finley had moved into his house—though not so much about Dempsey’s appearance. But that was over now. Finley expelled thoughts of him and all that he represented. He was dead, and she was glad.

She had killed him. After, while she’d answered Houser’s questions and watched the cops do what they do at a crime scene, her mind had seemed to float above the whole spectacle. She had killed a man. His death was by no means the first she had witnessed ... but it was the first time she had been solely and entirely responsible.

But once the shock had worn off and the cocktail of emotions that followed had subsided, she wanted to run and scream and ... celebrate. It was over ... the son of a bitch was dead.

Now she could really live again.

Her smile reappeared and her heart felt full as Matt walked back into the room, two new bottles of wine in hand. He placed them on the coffee table tray and joined Finley where she stood by the fireplace, watching the show.

“It was nice of Louise and Maureen to pull this off after we had to cancel.”

Finley leaned against him. The image of Dempsey lying dead on the floor flashed in her mind once more despite her best efforts. She kicked it out. Refused to allow him to intrude in her life ever again.

“It was,” she agreed. “And I appreciate Houser moving things along for us today rather than keeping us tied up for hours.”

Their house had been crawling with crime scene investigators and cops who had managed to get the job done in record time. After tomorrow’s second walk-through, they would be able to call in a cleaning service and then return home. Tonight, though, they had reservations at the Four Seasons. After the day they’d had, they both deserved a special night out. Why not go the distance?

“Houser is a good man, for sure,” Matt agreed. He kissed her temple. “I believe your quick thinking today will bode well with the voters.”

Finley had to laugh. “How do you figure that?” She’d killed a man with a pair of chopsticks—the cheap kind, at that—just inside the door of their home. Briggs would have a field day with this news.

Not that she actually cared. She would do it again in a heartbeat. Whatever it took to end the nightmare that was Carson Dempsey.

“Well,” Matt mused, “with violent crime on the rise in most larger cities, you just showed the folks of Davidson County that you aren’t going to stand by and let the criminals have their way.”

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