Page 111 of A Deeper Darkness

She guided them past Culpepper’s now-still form and herded them out onto the porch.

There were steps beside him, and Whitfield appeared on the porch, night-vision goggles around his neck. He looked utterly wrecked, hair sticking up, blood on one shoulder. He nodded tersely at Fletcher.

“Son of a bitch slipped past me. Sam, are you okay?”

“I’m okay, Xander.”

“Thank Christ.”

Fletcher heard a note in Whitfield’s voice, one of genuine concern, genuine…something else. Anger flared up—she was his, damn it—though he shoved that right back down where it came from. She’d been pretty clear earlier she wasn’t interested. Why in the hell his feelings were somehow hurt by the possessiveness he heard in Whitfield’s voice… He was imagining things. That was it. He was simply overtired and hearing things.

Xander took three steps to Sam and checked her over, just to make sure, then checked the kids, too.

“Where’s Maggie?” Sam asked.

“I’m here. Don’t shoot.” A tall, fit woman stomped onto the porch. The kids crowded around her. The youngest finally started to cry. Maggie holstered her weapon and pulled her little girl into her arms.

“Thank you, Sam. Thank you for keeping them safe.”

Sam swallowed hard. “I didn’t do anything. It was all you.”

They heard movement. Culpepper had come to and was trying to prop himself up.

Three weapons pointed at him immediately.

“You have to listen to me,” Culpepper said, the pain in his voice making Sam wince. She should want to help him, to be a doctor, to follow her code. She didn’t move a foot.

Fletcher went to him instead. “Shut the fuck up, Culpepper. You’re lucky you aren’t dead.”

The colonel looked smaller when he was on the ground, bleeding. Xander had popped him in the thigh, high and right. An impressive shot. Fletcher had caught him in the shoulder of his gun hand, which effectively ended his ability to shoot. Not a bad shot, either.

“Detective, you don’t understand. I’m here to protect them. You’re all in danger.” Culpepper wheezed out his proclamation.

“Yeah. Danger from you. You stupid son of a bitch.” Maggie edged closer, her weapon trained on her rapist. “I wouldn’t have said anything. I took your money and kept my mouth shut all these years. Why did you think I’d disgrace myself, admitting I’d been tainted by you?”

She hauled off and kicked him in the side. Fletcher grabbed her and pulled her back.

Culpepper laughed, a high, tinny squeal.

“It wasn’t me. I swear it. I had no interest in seeing those boys dead.”

Xander had crossed his arms on his chest, across the top of his gun, was staring down at Culpepper with loathing. Fletcher was just waiting for him to draw a knife and stab it in the man’s chest. He stepped closer.

“No, you just snuck up here loaded for bear to tell us you had our backs, right?”

“I did. I wanted to make sure you were safe. Xander, I’ve lost so many of you. I didn’t want to lose you, too. This is all my fault, but no, I didn’t kill them.”

“And that’s why you left Susan Donovan tied up in your house? Is that why you shot and killed Gino Taranto, dumped his body in the river? Is that why you shot my partner, you piece of shit?” Fletcher demanded.

Culpepper didn’t respond.

“I’m sorry then,Mr. Culpepper, but I’m going to place you under arrest now.” Fletcher read him his rights, and Culpepper lay there quietly, pathetically bleeding on Xander’s kitchen floor.

When Fletcher finished, Culpepper simply said, “It wasn’t me. I’d like my lawyer now.”

Xander blew up. “Even now, you can’t tell the truth. Even now, you’re lying, covering things up. You killed King, you bastard. How could you do that? He was one of us.”

Fletcher saw Sam step forward and take Xander’s arm. Maggie signaled with her head toward the open door. Sam dragged Xander away, out the door, yelling all the while.