I broke into a jog and wheeled around the end of the hall to see Jack kicking Koss's gun out of the way.
"Huh," I said as I walked over to Koss. "Seems you forgot someone."
I crouched beside Koss. His face was pale with shock. Blood gushed from his thigh. The femoral artery, I was guessing. More blood seeped out around him from a shot to the back. Neither was immediately fatal.
It took a moment before he realized that. He wasn't dead. He'd been shot by a professional killer, at point-blank range, and he was still alive. Hope flashed in his eyes. Then they narrowed, as his brain whirred. We'd kept him alive. We still wanted something. He could use that.
"Quinn?" Jack said. "Could you guard the front?"
Quinn nodded and headed off. I waited until he was gone. Then I flipped Koss onto his back. He let out a squeal of agony as fresh blood surged.
"Hurts, huh?" I said.
I crouched beside him, staying out of the blood.
"The crime-scene report from Amy's murder said she was found on her back," I said. "Just like this. Is that right?"
Koss's eyes rolled with pain. "I need--"
"You need to answer the question. Was she like this?"
"Yes. Is that what you want? An apology?" He gritted his teeth. "Fine. I'm very, very sorry--"
"Don't bother. I was just checking." I put my hands around his neck. "This is how you did it. right?"
His eyes widened then, panic sparking. "N-no."
He tried to buck me off, but he'd lost too much blood, was too far into shock, too far into death, his body shutting down.
"This is how you killed her," I said. "And this is how you'll die."
CHAPTER 53
We spent Friday in Chicago. Not much choice there. Jack was in no shape to leave, and we had the mess with Contrapasso to clean up.
The latter wasn't nearly as big a deal as I'd feared. They'd screwed us over, and we'd retaliated. They were shockingly fair about the whole thing. We hadn't injured their people. We hadn't caused the car accident. They might have wanted to interrogate Koss, but they'd lost that right when they double-crossed us.
They even offered medical care for Jack. He refused. He had someone in the area so that's where we took him. The bullet hadn't done any serious damage. One nicked rib and torn tissue. He wouldn't be work-ready for weeks, but he'd be fine.
As for Koss, we let Contrapasso handle that--both the immediate cleanup and the long-term repercussions. They'd make sure the families of his victims got closure and that their daughters' remains would be found wherever possible. Investigations would be reopened. Koss would be fingered as the culprit, apparently having left his confession and fled for parts unknown.
Would those investigations find him guilty? Or would people say his enemies framed and murdered him? Impossible to predict. He was dead. The families would know their daughters' fates. That was all that mattered to me.
We left Chicago Saturday morning. Though Emma and Owen didn't expect me back for the weekend, Jack knew it was best if I missed as little of it as possible. I'd drive us while he rested. Or that was my plan, though I knew sedation might be required to actually get him to rest.
Quinn was still with us, dealing with Contrapasso. What happened hadn't soured him on them--or vice versa. If anything, his loyalty to his comrades seemed to solidify their initial interest and they'd moved from flirting to making plans for a first date.
Contrapasso was also interested in Jack and me. While I knew Jack was a "hell no," he wasn't actually saying that. They knew more about us than we liked. It behooved us to play coy, rather than reject their overtures outright.
When Quinn came to see me before we left, it was the first time we'd talked since Koss's death. He helped me carry the bags to the rental car while Jack rested in the hotel room.
"I want to thank y
ou again," I said. "For coming back."
"I shouldn't have left," he said as we got on the elevator. "Jack was right. I lost my temper. I said things I didn't mean. I stormed out when you needed me."
"You shouldn't have found out like that. I should have told you."