Chapters (51)
Paul staggered twice and tipped over. When he hit the hard floor, the .40 he’d stolen from Spooky’s crib came loose and clanged to the floor. Rhonda tried to scramble for the gun, but Paul grabbed her by the leg and dragged her back. She tried to fight him off, but the punches she was landing didn’t do much to stop him. Paul was too far gone. Rhonda managed to wiggle loose and make one last lunge for the gun. This time she got it. Just as Paul was pouncing on her, she was rolling over, holding the pistol. They tussled around on the ground and eventually ended up with Paul on top of Rhonda with the barrel of the gun pressed against his chin.
“Oh, you gonna shoot your baby’s daddy?” he asked, as if it was all a game to him. Paul struggled to get the gun away from Rhonda, but she had a death grip on it. “You better let this gun go before we have an accident.”
“Paul, you’re bugging. Get off me.” She struggled as he slowly bent the barrel in her direction.
“Fucking lying bitch,” he snarled, dripping spit on her. “You put me through all this and the kid wasn’t even mine. I’m gonna put an end to your shit, once and for all.”
“Paul…” She twisted the gun at his chest. “Stop it. You’re gonna—”
Rhonda’s words were drowned out by the gunshot. All was still for a moment, but when the smoke cleared, another young life had been lost.
When the police arrived at Rhonda’s apartment, the furniture was overturned and blood was all over the living room floor. They found Paul huddled up in the bathtub, babbling and clutching the printout. They tried to ask him what had happened, but he seemed incapable of coherent speech. It didn’t matter, though, the scene in the living room told the entire story.
Rhonda was stretched out by the window, with a bullet hole in her throat. Her lifeless eyes stared vacantly at the detectives and plainclothes officers who were moving through her house. Oddly enough, she would come to meet her end by the same man she sought so diligently to reclaim; just as she had always said, she “loved him to death.”
The police called it a crime of passion: “The scorned lover who had come to settle old scores with his estranged son’s mother.” At least that’s how the papers would write it.
When they tested the gun, they linked it to the murders of Groovy, Slick, and several other unsolved homicides. The police took Paul in and charged him with every last body.