Page 124 of The Murder Club
“What have you done?”
“What have I done?” Thorpe laughed. “I balanced the scales. I am no longer willing to be the sacrifice. Not for my father. Not for my grandmother. Not for my brother.” His gaze swept over his mother with a loathing that was almost tangible. “And certainly not for you.”
Lorene released a low groan. Had the awful truth at last smashed through her refusal to admit Logan was gone?
“Is he dead?”
“They’re all dead. Except for you.” Thorpe paused to allow his mother the opportunity to feel the full agony of Logan’s death. Then he stepped forward. “Now it’s your turn.”
Lorene arched her back, her fear overriding her grief. “No, please.”
“Ah, I knew in the end you would plead.” There was genuine pleasure in Thorpe’s voice. As if he’d been given a treasured gift. “That’s all I’ve wanted. All I’ve dreamed of . . .”
Bailey struggled to her feet. She didn’t know what Thorpe intended to do to his mother, but she knew she couldn’t just sit there and watch it happen. Whatever Lorene had done in the past she didn’t deserve to be murdered. Besides, once he was done with his mother, Thorpe was going to turn his attention to her.
Better to try to do something while he was focused on Lorene.
Desperately glancing around the derelict bathroom, Bailey searched for something she could use as a weapon.
She was still searching when there was a blur of movement in the doorway and someone appeared. Dom! Her eyes widened as he stepped into the room, his motions oddly stiff.
He was alive, but it was obvious he’d been injured.
“It’s over, Thorpe,” Dom growled.
Thorpe released a frustrated growl, glaring at the unexpected intruder. “You’re supposed to be dead.”
“It’s going to take a better man than you to get rid of me,” Dom taunted, stepping back as he flicked a quick glance in Bailey’s direction.
He was trying to get Thorpe away from the open doorway so she could make a run for it.
“Well, I was forced to be a Boy Scout when I was young and we were taught to be prepared for any emergency.”
Thorpe tried to match Dom’s casual confidence, but it was a brittle act that didn’t conceal his unease. He was a tough guy when he was lurking in the shadows or abusing women. He wasn’t nearly so brave when he couldn’t control the situation. Still, that didn’t make him any less dangerous, Bailey realized as he reached into the pocket of his jacket to pull out a knife. With a twist of his wrist, he flipped it open to reveal the wicked-sharp blade.
“I intended to christen this blade with the blood of my mother,” Thorpe said, holding up the knife to catch the overhead light. “But I suppose you’ll have to do.”
Dom took another step back, luring Thorpe toward the center of the room. “And then what?” he asked. “There’s no way you’re walking away from this. The sheriff’s already on his way.”
Thorpe arched his brows. “Do you honestly think I didn’t have an escape plan in place?” he scoffed. “My bags are packed and a rental car is waiting for me just down the street, along with a dozen passports and enough money to last me for years.” He shrugged. “I’ll disappear overseas, and when the time is right I’ll return with a new identity and a new life. But first . . .”
Thorpe lunged forward, slashing his arm toward the center of Dom’s broad chest.
“Bailey, go!” Dom shouted, dancing away from the blade.
“Don’t go far; I have plans for you,” Thorpe hissed, his gaze never leaving Dom as he moved to the side, looking for an opening.
Bailey dashed forward, but she didn’t head for the door. Instead, she crossed the short distance to where Lorene Donaldson was tied to the chair, her face pale and her eyes wide with shock. Something that might have been hope eased her tight features as she watched Bailey dart around her, as if assuming Bailey intended to untie the ropes holding her in place.
Nothing could be further from Bailey’s mind.
She wasn’t thinking about escape. There was no way in hell she was leaving Dom to battle a crazed killer. But without a weapon the only way to help was to knock Thorpe off-balance. And she had the perfect means to do that.
Grasping the high back of the chair, Bailey clenched her teeth and shoved it forward with all her might. The tiled floor was broken and littered with shards of ceramic, but desperation gave her enough strength to force the chair forward, and after a few inches the momentum kicked in, allowing her to pick up speed.
It was Lorene’s screech of fury at the realization of what Bailey intended to do that alerted Thorpe to the approaching danger. He whirled around, his eyes widening as he watched his mother hurtling toward him.
Bailey never hesitated; she rammed the chair directly into Thorpe even as Dom swung his fist and caught the man square on the jaw.