Chapter 143
Chapter 143
Chapter 143
Rose ran across the motel parking lot, her mind racing faster than her feet. The worn soles of her expensive shoes slapped against cracked asphalt as panic clawed at her chest. Herod was going to tell the FBI everything. Her plan, her revenge, her future, all of it would crumble if he talked.
She reached her car, not her car, really, but one of Herod’s cars. Her hands shook ashe fumbled with the keys. The recorder. The damned recorder he’d shown her. How long had he been recording their conversations? What exactly had she said?
Rose stopped, the key halfway to the lock.
She couldn’t run. Not yet. Not while Herod sat in that motel room with a phone pressed to his ear, her name on his lips, and evidence of her crimes in his pocket.
In the distance, sirens wailed. Still far away, but coming closer.
Rose looked back at Room 17, its faded blue door visible from where she stood. Behind that door sat the man who could destroy everything she’d built. Everything she’d sacrificed for.
If he talked, it was over.
If he lived, she was finished.
Rose reached into her bag, her fingers wrapping around the cold metal of the gun she’d bought from one of Anton Bessonov’s men. She’d never fired it. Had never planned to. It was just insurance, protection against the rough types she had to deal with for their plan.
Now it was her only option.
The weight of the weapon felt strange in her hand as she pulled it from her bag. She’d watched enough movies to know how to hold it, how to aim. But the reality of it, the solid heaviness of death in her palm, made her stomach turn.
Rose didn’t allow herself to hesitate. Hesitation was for weak people. For people like Camille, always looking for someone else to make decisions for her. Rose wasn’t weak. She’d proven that time and again.
The sirens grew louder. Minutes, maybe seconds before they arrived.
She walked back toward Room 17, each step steady despite the storm inside her mind. All those years fighting to escape the foster system. All those years pretending to be the perfect adopted daughter. All those years watching Camille get everything Rose deserved.
She wouldn’t let Herod take it all away. Not now. Not when she was so close to winning.
Outside Room 17, Rose paused, listening. Through the thin door, she could hear Herod’s voice, the words unclear but the tone unmistakable. He was telling them. Giving them details. Betraying her.
Rose raised the gun, aimed at the door, and pulled the trigger.
The explosion of sound shocked her. The gun jumped in her hand, the recoil stronger than she expected. A hole appeared in the cheap wooden door.
Inside, Herod’s voice stopped.
Not enough. She couldn’t be sure. She fired again. And again. Three holes now punctured the door, forming a rough triangle.
Silence from inside the room.
Rose stepped closer, pressed her ear to the door. Nothing. Not even movement.
Had she hit him? Was he dead? Wounded?
She had to know. Had to be sure.
With her left hand, Rose turned the doorknob slowly. The door swung open with a creak.
Herod lay on the floor near the bed, the phone fallen from his hand. Blood spread across his chest, staining his white shirt with expanding circles of red. His eyes were open, staring at the ceiling, his mouth moving slightly as if trying to form words.
“Rose,” he managed, the name barely audible.
Successfully unlocked!
She stepped into the room, the gun still raised. You should we betrayed me,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt.
“They’ll… know…” His words came between shallow breaths.
“They’ll know nothing,” Rose replied. “By the time they find you, I’ll be gone. And if they come after me, I’ll tell them you were obsessed with me. That you forced me to help you. That I was afraid for my life.”
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Chapter 143
Herod’s eyes found hers, filled with a clarity that unnerved her. Even dying, he saw through her. They
wt bebevey “They always believe me, Herod.” Rose’s finger tightened on the trigger again. “Everyone always does fmvery convers He tried to reach for the phone that had skittered across the floor. Rose stepped on his hand, grinding it under her hed he gasped in pain.
“Where’s the recorder?” she demanded.
Herod’s eyes closed briefly, then opened again. The ghost of a smile touched his lips “Gone
“Don’t lie to me.” Rose knelt beside him, keeping the gun aimed at his head while her free hand searched his pockets. Nothing. “Where is it?”
“Safe.” Blood bubbled at the corner of his mouth. “Evidence… against you.”
Panic surged through Rose again. The sirens were closer now, maybe only blocks away. “Tell me where it is, or 13 make your last moments very painful.”
Herod’s breathing had grown more labored. Each word seemed to cost him tremendous effort. “You can’t hurt me anymore.”
Rose stood, aiming the gun directly at his face. “Last chance. Where’s the recorder?”
“With… someone… who’ll know… what to do…” Herod’s voice faded to a whisper. “Charles… would be… proud
Rage exploded in Rose’s chest. Even dying, Herod defied her. Even with a gun pointed at his face, he wouldn’t give her what she wanted.
Her finger tightened on the trigger.
The sirens screamed into the parking lot outside, red and blue lights flashing through the thin curtains. Car doors slammed. Voices shouted commands.
Rose didn’t have time for a clean shot anymore. She needed to run.
She fired once more, the bullet striking the floor beside Herod’s head. Not a kill shot, but enough to make her point. This isn’t over,” she hissed, then turned and ran for the bathroom window.
It was small, but Rose was smaller. She forced it open and squeezed through, dropping into the narrow alley behind the motel. Her car was out front, now blocked by FBI vehicles. She’d have to find another way out.
Behind her, shouts came from the motel room. They’d found Herod. Soon they’d be looking for her.
Rose ran through the alley, away from the motel, away from the sirens, away from the man she’d shot but not killed. Her mind raced with possibilities, contingency plans forming and dissolving with each step.
Herod might survive. He might tell them everything. But without the recorder, without proof, it would be his word against hers. And Rose had always been very good at making people believe her.
She’d need a new identity. New papers. Money. She’d had all of that arranged already, in case their plan went wrong. In case they needed to disappear after destroying Camille and Victoria Kane.
Now she’d use those preparations to save herself.
Rose slowed to a walk as she reached a busier street. She couldn’t look like she was running. Couldn’t draw attention to herself. She smoothed her hair, adjusted her clothing, and wiped the fear from her face. The gun went back into her bag. hidden beneath a scarf.
A taxi approached. Rose raised her hand, forcing her most charming smile.
“Where to?” the driver asked as she slid into the back seat.
“Bus station,” Rose said. “I’ve got a long journey ahead.”
As the taxi pulled away, Rose watched police cars speed past in the opposite direction. More units responding to the shooting. More people who would soon be looking for her.
She leaned back against the seat, forcing her breathing to slow, forcing her mind to focus. This wasn’t over. She could still win. She just needed to adapt. To evolve her plan.
Herod had been a tool. A useful one, but replaceable. She’d find another way to destroy Camille. Another path to the life that should have been hers all along.
And if Herod lived? If he told them everything?
Rose touched the gun in her bag, her finger tracing its deadly shape through the fabric.
Then she’d just have to silence him permanently. Him and anyone else who stood in her way.
The FBI would be watching airports, train stations, bus terminals. They’d have her photo, her description. But Rose Lewis had disappeared before. Had become someone new. She could do it again.
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Chapter 143
For now, she needed to get out of the city. To vanish until the hunt died down. And then, when they least expected it, she would return.
After all, she still had unfinished business with Camille.
Special Agent Diana Chen crouched beside the bleeding man on the motel room floor. The medical team worked frantically to stabilize him, their hands moving with practiced efficiency.
“Three gunshot wounds to the chest,” one of them reported. “He’s losing blood fast
“Can he talk?” Chen asked.
The medic shook his head. “Not now. Maybe not ever.”
Chen stood, surveying the room. Three bullet holes in the door. Shell casings on the carpet near the entrance. Signs of a hasty departure through the bathroom window.
“Rose Lewis,” said Agent Morgan, joining her. “Room’s registered under her name. Paid cash for three nights.”
“She was careless,” Chen remarked.
“Or in a hurry.” Morgan pointed to the open drawers, clothes strewn about. “They left in a rush. Split up when he decided to turn himself in.”
“And she decided to shut him up permanently.” Chen’s eyes fell on the phone on the floor beside the victim. “Was he still connected when we arrived?”
Morgan nodded. “Call to the FBI tip line. Operator said he identified himself as Herod Preston, said he wanted to turn himself in. Then she heard gunshots and the line went dead.”
“So she shot him to keep him from talking.” Chen looked at the man being loaded onto a stretcher, an oxygen mask covering his face, IV lines already running into his arms. “But she failed. He’s still alive.”
“For now,” Morgan said grimly. “Doctor says it’s fifty–fifty at best.”
Chen watched as the medical team rushed Preston out to the waiting ambulance. “Put guards on him at the hospital. If he wakes up, I want to be the first person he talks to.”
“Already arranged.” Morgan handed her an evidence bag containing a phone. “Found this in his jacket pocket. Tech team’s working on it now.”
“And the woman? Rose Lewis?”
“APB is out. Every law enforcement agency in the state is looking for her.” Morgan’s face hardened. “She won’t get far.” Chen wasn’t so sure. Women like Rose Lewis, women who could shoot a man three times and still have the presence of mind to escape through a bathroom window, were dangerous precisely because they were resourceful. Adaptable. “Check the surrounding buildings for security cameras,” Chen ordered. “Traffic cams too. I want to know which direction she went.”
As the team dispersed to carry out her instructions, Chen stood in the center of the room, trying to read the story written in blood and bullet holes.
Herod Preston had been ready to confess. To implicate Rose Lewis in the bombings. And she had tried to kill him for it. What had Preston been about to reveal? What secrets was Rose Lewis willing to kill for?
Chen didn’t know yet. But she would find out. And when she did, Rose Lewis would have nowhere left to hide.
The chase was on.
