LOGAN DIDN’T MOVE. HIS BODY DIDN’T RECOIL, HIS HANDS didn’t fly to the wound. He didn’t blink, didn’t waver, didn’t utter a word. He just stared at Margot, the smile slowly fading from his face. His eyes went glassy, and then he simply collapsed onto the landing. His body shuddered once, and was still.
“I’m sorry,” Margot whispered, her throat so constricted she barely made a sound.
She felt Kitty’s hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay?”
Margot tore her eyes away from Logan’s motionless body. “Yes,” she said. And she meant it. She placed the gun in Kitty’s hand.
“You scared the shit out of us,” Bree said.
Margot smiled out of the side of her mouth. “Sorry.” Her eyes strayed to Ed, his head cradled in Olivia’s lap. She crouched next to him on the floor, taking his hand gently in her own. His eyes fluttered open and he forced an easy smile, but his skin was unnaturally pale.
“He’s losing a lot of blood,” Bree said. The sweater she held to Ed’s wound glistened, utterly soaked.
“My fault,” Ed said. “This is all my fault.”
“Don’t talk,” Margot said.
“John’s getting help,” Kitty added. “You’re going to be fine.”
Ed shook his head. “I need to explain.” He pushed himself up on his elbow, wincing with the effort. His right hand, fingers streaked with blood, crept toward his jacket pocket. He fumbled blindly, then pulled away. In his hands, he held a corner of paper that looked as if it had been torn from a larger sheet.
Margot lifted the scrap of paper from his hands. Words were printed on one side, and she recognized them right away. “The last scene of Twelfth Precinct.” She glanced down at Ed. “This is from my prompter’s script.”
Ed nodded, and motioned for her to turn the page over. As she did, she found another set of words. These were handwritten.
“‘Keep your mouth shut,’” she read aloud, “‘or next time she dies.’”
A memory stirred. Margot was watching Logan onstage, dancing with Olivia in the finale. He was all smiles, until he saw something in the audience and the smile dropped. He looked scared. “Logan saw you the night of the show. Saw you arrive at the theater.”
Ed nodded. “He must have thought I found out that he’d been at Archway too. He managed to sneak backstage. When I got there I found this note beside your . . .” His voice trailed off.
“You’re going to be all right,” Olivia said. Tears streamed down her face. “Just rest, okay? You’re going to be fine.”
Ed closed his eyes. “I was trying to protect Margot and I thought I could deal with the killer on my own. Then the photo . . .” Ed’s eyes flew open, his face pinched. “Margot?”
“I’m here,” she said, leaning closer to him.
Ed smiled. “He sent me a photo. In the envelope.”
Kitty laid her hand on Margot’s shoulder. “Logan threatened to destroy what we loved,” she explained.
“But he screwed up,” Ed continued. “I could see his reflection in the photo. I tried to keep everyone safe. Called 911, but they wouldn’t listen.”
“I had that problem, too,” Bree said.
“So I pulled the fire alarm, then I went looking for Logan. Only—” Ed was interrupted by a violent cough. A trickle of blood appeared at the corner of his mouth. Thundering footsteps pounded overhead. The authorities had arrived.
“Ed?” Margot cried. “Hold on. You hear me? Don’t give up.”
“But you’re safe . . . now. I am considerably . . . out of . . .”
Ed’s head lolled to the side as John led the paramedics down the stairs.
