“I thought you were in the hospital. I thought you were attacked by Kim Gleeson. He already confessed to all the murders.”

Well, shit. I snorted a little at the thought. He would get more than he bargained for. Apparently, I’d ruined the perfect get out of jail free card by signing myself out of the hospital and coming to look for Darby.

“Gleeson probably thinks his son is the killer. He caught the prick watching some heavy-duty snuff movies and he and his wife paid off a girl in Anchorage who said the little shit tried to rape her last year.” I’d read all their text messages and emails. “He must have worried the kid had graduated on to bigger things.” I might have helped convince him of that notion by planting a hidden porn file in one of his folders and using the company credit card for a few purchases that might make the IRS frown. “That’s why the Gleesons moved here. Trying to protect the pervert from justice.”

Darby gasped.

“Yeah, I know. I actually thought the cops would pin it on the kid. Never imagined dear old Dad would sacrifice himself.” It was as amusing as hell watching them cover for someone so morally corrupt. He might be a teen, but he wouldn’t change. He was a serial rapist waiting to happen. I slowed, my breath heaving in and out of my chest in labored bellows, beginning to feel the anesthetic and painkillers waning from my bloodstream. Stabbing myself in the chest had been a calculated risk and I hadn’t pushed the knife too deep. I’d roofied myself first which had helped a lot, and I was grateful I hadn’t frozen to death in that alley before someone had found me. That would have been ironic.

“How they can have him in the same house as their daughter, I don’t know.” I shuddered.

“So, you set up Gleeson the same way you set me up?” She turned to look at me.

I laughed, but I wasn’t enjoying the lightheaded feeling or the throbbing burn of my wound. I’d lost more blood than anticipated and now the windchill snatched my breath and made my lungs burn. I needed to rest. I glanced up, disorientated by the blowing snow and monochrome landscape.

“No. I set him up way better than I set you up. You were spur of the moment. He was always part of the plan.”

“Why would you do that?” she asked, huddling deeper into her jacket.

I pulled a face. She was such a girl scout. “Because I needed things.”

“What things?”

“Clothes, food.” A way of getting close to you. I didn’t say the latter. I didn’t want to completely freak her out. I didn’t want to have to shoot her if she ran. I wanted her to like me. I switched hands again and, even though I couldn’t see her eyes, I knew she followed the movement. Good. I didn’t want her to forget I was the one in charge.