The lid popped free. Spotlighted in Fast’s upside-down beam, a noxious mix of mud, stagnant water, and arsenic-laced sludge spilled from the barrel and spread across the ground. A form took shape in the muck.

Annaliese Ruben lay on her side, long dark hair pasted to her face, features blue and rubbery in the cast-off light. Her legs and arms were tightly flexed. Below her chin, a lifeless hand lay curled on her chest, translucent skin peeling from the fingertips.

My pain gave way to a wave of pity.

Annaliese resembled the poor dead baby she’d hidden under her bathroom sink.

The sound of frantic scrambling snapped me back.

With a guttural howl, Fast lurched to his feet, head canted at an unnatural angle.

I tightened my grip on the spade. My pulse thudded in my ears. Blood pumped in my throat.

Swing again? Go for the gun?

That second of hesitation gave my opponent the advantage he needed.

Moving surprisingly quickly, Fast kicked the shovel from my hands and several feet from me. He then dropped on all fours and began groping for the Baretta.

I heard the spade clatter in the darkness and lunged to retrieve it.

Too slow!

With an animal snarl, Fast grabbed my hair and brought the gun up to my head. “Now you fucking die!”

He spun me and drove the Baretta into the back of my skull.

Against my will, I cried out. For a moment all was silent except for the soft trickle of water.

Then. A swish.

Where? To the left? The right?

Or had I imagined it?

Fast dug the muzzle deeper. I smelled his sweat and hair cream. Would they be the last sensations my brain would register?

In my mind I saw Katy, Pete, Ryan, Birdie. Tears streamed from the corners of my eyes. I braced for the bullet.

Then. A scrape. Like a shoe being placed with stealth.

Fast tensed and pointed the gun in the direction of the sound.

The Baretta discharged with another thunderous crack.

A locomotive blasted my right side. My body went airborne, hit the ground hard. Almost instantly, I heard another shot.

Lungs in spasm and gasping for air, I strained to comprehend what was happening.

Blood and bone burst from Fast’s shoulder and splattered the wall at his back. He gave a keening yelp, then toppled with a sound like meat hitting wood.

In the smoky haze lit by Fast’s bottom-up helmet, I saw three figures. One squatted beside me. The other two crouched by the cart.

All three had weapons trained on my would-be executioner.

Chapter 40

TWO P.M. TUESDAY. OUT MY WINDOW, THE SUN WAS A HARD white ball in a perfect blue sky. The bay looked glassy and still.

Between the koi-pond plunge, my gritty cart ride, and ricocheting fragments from Fast’s bullet, my face resembled postwar Dresden. And I ached in places I didn’t know I had.