What happened next was a blur of motion and sound. Tracey jerked her hand upward, and a shot rang out. Someone screamed. Tracey and Rebecca toppled backward, hit the wall and landed on the floor. The scalpel clattered across the tiles, landing in a pool of blood.
“Rebecca!” Marcus screamed.
An officer held him back. “Zur has her, Mr. Taylor. She’s all right.”
“But I saw blood,” he replied with a moan.
“The Whitaker woman. Detective Zur shot her. She’s dead.”
“I have to see Rebecca. John!”
Zur glanced around, saw Marcus and rushed over. “I can’t let you any further, Marcus. It’s a crime scene. But what I will do is bring her to you as soon as we’ve taken her statement. Go wait in the exam room with Simms and Geraldo.”
“Kingston is in the cafeteria,” Marcus said.
Zur nodded. “We got him. He’s already in custody. We’ll talk later, okay?”
As Zur walked away, Marcus struggled to get a glimpse of Rebecca. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw her moving around, uninjured. She was okay. Well, as okay as she could be after Tracey held a knife to her throat.
He watched as Zur led Rebecca back to her room. With nothing left to do, Marcus wandered down the hall, replaying the night’s events in his head.
Tracey Whitaker and Wesley Kingston had conspired to murder Rebecca.
He shook his head. How could he have been so wrong about Kingston?
Not the money the kids would inherit, but the money used to pay off Delaney. That’s what had thrown Marcus. He’d been so sure that Kingston had no access to such a large amount of money. Twenty-five thousand dollars? But it had been Tracey who’d come up with payment. One coldhearted bitch.
And now one coldhearted
The guy was downstairs eating dinner, for Christ’s sake. The mastermind had been right under everyone’s noses.
Marcus took a detour and headed to the stairwell. Taking the steps two at a time, he was on the main floor in less than two minutes. A few patients wandered the floor, along with three interns and an ER doctor.
He strode down the hallway, hell-bent on pounding Kingston’s face to a pulp. When he reached the cafeteria, he found Wesley Kingston standing near a table, his hands cuffed behind his back while an officer read him his rights.
“I had nothing to do with this,” Kingston shrieked.
The officer led Kingston toward Marcus. They locked eyes as they passed.
“It wasn’t me,” Kingston insisted. “I swear, I didn’t try to kill her!”
“Bullshit!” Marcus said, his fists clenched at his sides. “Tracey already admitted you planned it all. You’re going down for attempted murder. Of your wife
“You’re wrong,” Kingston sobbed. “I’d never hurt them. I have no reason to want them dead.”
“I can think of about eight hundred
Kingston shook his head. “What you’re suggesting is ludicrous. I’m not capable of murder.”
“Money can make people do desperate things,” Marcus said between gritted teeth. “Things they thought they were never capable of.”
“I didn’t do this,” Kingston hissed. “Tracey—”
“Is dead,” Marcus snapped. “That’s what your plan got you. A dead fiancée and a prison sentence.”
Kingston was led away amid shrieks of protest and denials.
Marcus ran a shaky hand through his hair and released a pent-up groan. He’d wasted enough time on Kingston. The man would get what was coming to him.
He walked back to the elevator and stepped inside.
Chapter Forty-Four
Rebecca’s hands quivered as Dr. Monroe inspected the stitches in her side.
“Everything looks good here,” the doctor said before leaving the room.
Rebecca watched the clock on the wall and wondered how her life had gone so wrong. At what point had she taken this detour into hell? And what had she done to deserve such atrocities?
“I still can’t believe it,” she said to Detective Zur, who was seated by the bed. “Tracey Whitaker?” She shook her head slowly.
“She was a desperate woman. She wanted you out of your husband’s life, so she could have a future with him. And the money.”
“And Wesley agreed to it all.” She stifled a sob. “I can’t believe I was so mistaken about him. I was married to him, for crying out loud. How could I have misjudged his character so badly? How could I have allowed my children to be anywhere near him?”
The detective shrugged. “You didn’t know.”
She clenched her teeth, then said, “Well, I should’ve known.”
“Try not to be so hard on yourself, Mrs. Kingston. Some people are schemers and liars. They find ways to bend the truth, twist it to their realities. Your husband and Ms. Whitaker, they’re both master manipulators. They wanted you to see what they presented.”
“But I was so gullible.”