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"I can't believe he's your son. Why did you keep it a secret?"
"Because I thought I could help him more if no one knew of our connection. But he betrayed me. And he wasn't just a bad killer, he was a bad artist. He fooled even me at first, but then I realized what he was doing."
"What was he doing?"
"Copying obscure artists who had real talent and selling the work as his own. Arthur found out and vowed to destroy him. I told Marcus I would take care of it, but he wouldn't listen. He had to kill using my legendary painting, only he completely screwed it up. He lost my painting. And then I found out he'd kidnapped Callie. It was the last straw."
"So you came here to stop him?" he challenged.
"No. I came here to kill him," she said bluntly.
"Your own son?"
"I gave him away when I was sixteen. I couldn't allow that baby to ruin my life. I had big plans for myself. But when Marcus found me, I thought maybe I'd been wrong to turn away from him all those years ago. He was my flesh and blood. But I wasn't wrong. He was always going to be my downfall. Now, I have to kill myself. Or you can do it. You can shoot me. It would make for a dramatic exit from this world. I could appreciate the art of that."
He shook his head, seeing the mad light in her eyes. "How did you hide your mental issues for so long?"
"People see what they want to see. And I was always very good at my job."
"Why did you do it, Victoria? Why did you kill all those people?"
"They threatened my power in one way or another, so they had to go. I'm in charge. They needed to know that. They needed to fall from the heights of their glory. I should have killed your father after he broke into my house, but I wasn't sure he'd seen the painting, and I never dreamed he'd risk his life of freedom to turn me in. But he always had a weakness for you. You were his one regret."
"It's over, Victoria. Drop the gun."
She did as he asked, but then she turned toward the railing.
He started forward a second too late.
She hurled herself over the rail, falling to the cement floor below like a broken rag doll.
As he looked at the scene below, he was reminded of the view from the top floor of the museum when Arthur had fallen to his death.
Victoria had wanted to die in the same artistic way as her previous victims.
He couldn't say he was sorry. Now he had to find Callie.
He jogged down the stairs. When he hit the second landing, he saw Callie running toward him. She threw herself into his arms, and he held on tight.
"I thought she was going to kill you," she said.
He closed his eyes for a split second, relief flooding through him that she was all right. Then he looked at her, wanting to make sure she wasn't hurt. "I was afraid for you, too, Callie. Where did you come from?"
"I was hiding. I got out of the storage room, but then everyone came in, and I didn't know where to go."
He nodded. "We'll talk about it all, but we need to get downstairs. I have to check on my father and make sure Marcus can't hurt anyone else."
She nodded and followed him down to the first floor. Marcus was bleeding and lying crippled on the floor, his leg shattered, and his eyes dazed with pain.
His father was also bleeding, but his arm wound didn't look too bad, and his dad was still on his feet.
"Are you all right?" he asked his father.
"I'll live." His dad offered Callie a smile. "I'm glad you're alive. My son was very worried about you, Callie, so worried he even let me help him."
"Thank you for that."
"Oh, and nice throw. You ever play softball?"