Killian felt a trickle of sweat creep down the middle of his back.
His heart was beating like a nail driver against the walls of his
chest. Half of him wanted to think clearly; the other half wanted to
rush forward and wrest the gun away from Lynn, taking on any new
wounds as they came along.
The air was still and suffocating. Particles of dust swirled and
floated about in the flickering florescent light of the abandoned
closet. Killian thought suddenly that he might die in such a lousy
place, when there were at least a dozen other lousy places he would
have preferred, dives where the people would have raised a pint in his
name at his passing.
Lynn gave Killian an empty smile. She'd keep talking to him until the
fear came into his eyes – the fear of death. It gripped all her
victims eventually, and that was always the perfect moment to send
them screaming into the other world. She craved that look, and she
hadn't seen it in such a long time.
"So those weren't her last words. So what. Tell me what they mean
anyway," Lynn said, thrusting her gun at him.
Killian thought back to the sentence: "I am dying for you; you are
dying for another." It was a Punjabi proverb. Killian and Rajani had
always traded proverbs with each other – her Punjabi ones for his
Irish. They just repeated them to each other, never explaining them
or reflecting on them in depth. Now his life belonged to one, and
Killian knew that if he even guessed at an explanation, Lynn would
have no reason to keep him alive.
"Why didn't you just become a doctor, if you're so much smarter than all of us?"
"Love. Aren't you going to call me love? You call everybody else
love," Lynn said. "Go ahead, call me love."
Killian looked at that shelf holding the cleaning supplies. It was
his only chance to defeat her, but he couldn't get it to fall over by
simply willing it. He was running out of time. He saw the doorknob
slowly twist. He couldn't let Lynn notice.
"You're bloody off your rocker, love," Killian said, with a menacing
crack of lips baring teeth.
Breathe in. Breathe out. John had sent Evangeline outside to wait
for Bo and the SWAT team, so that she could direct them to the supply
closet. He didn't want Evangeline to see him get killed, should it
happen. She'd already seen him shot, and it had taken its toll on her
with nightmares and small panics that she could hide from everyone but
John could hear Killian speaking with a woman. She wanted to know
something, but he couldn't hear exactly what it was. The voice
sounded familiar, but John couldn't place her. It was a woman. A
woman. John tucked that into one of the files in his mind.
He turned the doorknob to the supply closet slowly and looked over his
shoulder at Michael. His brother was right behind him, like when they
would play games as children. Mikey had been big for his age, but he
had still trailed at John's heels like the little brother he was.
If he'd had a choice, John would have sent his brother along with
Evangeline, away from whatever was about to happen. But Mikey was a
grown man now, a doctor who could be useful in a medical emergency.
John pushed Michael back a little and gripped the doorknob again.
Killian slammed his open palm against the wall and stomped his foot at
the same time. The wobbly shelf shook again. An old bottle of
industrial bleach slid off, and Lynn was forced to steady the dark
brown wire frame with her free hand.
"Now!" Killian screamed.
John burst through the door, instantly deciding to ask questions later
and shoot first. Bullets whizzed by his head – one nicking the top of
his shoulder – as Lynn fired off a few rounds.
Killian lunged forward at the same time, pulling down the shelf on top
of an already mortally wounded Lynn.
"Michael," John yelled, as he kicked Lynn's gun away from her body.
His brother was already behind him, briefly checking John's flesh
wound. Michael moved succinctly on to Lynn's body, where Killian was
already taking her fading pulse.
"I think I understand now. I am dying for you. You are dying for
another," she said, coughing violently.
John turned around, with his gun raised, as two members of the SWAT
team entered the closet. They parted to reveal Bo, and John went over
to him, quietly explaining what happened, never taking his eyes off of
Lynn. He heard Evangeline gasp, and he walked over to her quickly.
"Don't look. Don't look," he said, gently, coiling his good arm
around her waist.
Bo asked Michael if he needed any nurses or help. Michael looked at
Killian, and they conferred with their eyes. Michael shook his head.
John stepped away from Evangeline for a moment and knelt beside Lynn's
body. He finally recognized her from the hospital on the mountain.
She was pleased by his look of surprise.
"Miss, I need you to tell me about the death of Rajani Fahey," John said.
Lynn laughed, blood staining the corners of her mouth. "Doctor on
doctor crime," she said, turning weepy. "My son, Steven. He'll be all
alone now. Steven did it. He killed both your girls."
She looked back and forth between them, dying as she turned toward
John for the last time. "I'm dying for you," she said.
John felt Evangeline's fingers pull back the ragged fabric around his
flesh wound. She called for Michael. John assured her it was nothing
before he turned to Killian with a flock of questions fluttering
against the inside of his lips looking for escape.
"It was Steven Haver. She thought of him as her protégé. She's the
one who taught him how to kill properly. I lead Rajani to him that
day. It's all my fault," Killian said, plainly, withdrawing into
Evangeline tried to bring him back. "She was the one trying to kill
you?" she asked, surprised it hadn't been a relative of Rajani's dead
on the floor before them.
Killian nodded, suddenly unsure whether he had really wanted to go on
living. He had come so close to Rajani, and now, he'd learned who had
killed her. And, he didn't know if he could go back to medicine. He
didn't think he'd ever trust another nurse in his life.
"One down. One to go," John said.
He decided he would take advantage of Alcazar's offer of a security
detail for Killian, though John was sure Killian didn't need
protection from anyone besides himself. John could remember how he
had felt when he'd discovered who'd killed Caitlin. He knew Killian's
feelings would be dangerous, once the numbness went away.
"Mike, can you tell me for sure if this woman was a mother or not," John said.
Michael pulled up the nurse's top to display more of her already
exposed stomach. There was a wide scar.
"We don't even have to do an autopsy for that, bro. Caesarean
section," he said.
Killian and John locked eyes. There was another enemy out there, and he was faceless. They only had a name. Steven Haver Jr.