Or to someone else.

But now she was through with him?

He flashed back to his suicidal thoughts of a few moments ago, and now he found he didn’t want to die just yet. He had to warn people, let them know what was going on in Rockville. But who would believe his crazy story? The police? Like hell. Jake? Probably not. Kelsey and Will would believe him. But they were kids, too. No adult would ever believe any of them. Still, he would have to try. And soon. If Myra meant to have him killed, he would be killed. There was no way around it. So fuck it, he’d spill his guts to Myers when the detective returned. Caution be damned. Let them toss him in that padded cell and throw away the key. At least he would have tried something. And maybe-just maybe-Myers would be smart enough to take a longer look at some of the odd things that had been going on in his town.

He heard a scuff of boots on the room’s tiled floor. He looked up in time to see the guard posted at the door moving toward him. The uniformed female officer was pulling her service pistol out of its holster.

Trey gasped. “No.”

The officer was tall and slender. Her long, blonde hair was pinned back. Trey was sure she was one of the women he’d seen in the clearing that first night. The gun looked large and imposing, bigger than life, like a cannon wielded by an angry goddess. It was aimed at the narrow space between his eyes.

The woman thumbed back the hammer and grinned. “Now you die.”

The voice was Myra’s. It sounded strange emanating from the blonde officer. Her mouth just hung open while the words came forth: “It’s going to look like you attacked this woman. You’re unstable. You’re ill. She’ll kill you in self-defense.” Myra’s laugh came out of the woman’s open mouth. “Are you ready for the bullet? Your brains will look lovely painted all over that drab wall.”

Again, the laughter.

“Nobody will ever believe that.” Trey glanced pointedly at the video camera mounted high on the wall in a corner of the room. “It’ll all be on tape.”

Myra’s vessel looked at the camera. “Oops.” Then she looked at Trey again. “No matter. This acolyte is expendable. Her sacrifice will be rewarded in the next world. Say goodbye, Trey.”

Trey screamed.

The door to the interrogation room flew open and two uniformed cops ran in. The blonde officer whirled around as they were drawing their weapons. One of them, a muscular black man, had just pulled his 9mm clear of its holster when a hard, concussive noise filled the room. The black man’s life ended as a bullet penetrated his brain. He hopped backward and spasmed before falling to the floor, blood jetting from the opening at the back of his head. Another bullet knocked down the other officer, and the blonde woman swung back around, again aiming the gun at Trey’s head.

Trey felt paralyzed. There’d been times in his life, especially after seeing a particularly thrilling action movie, when he’d visualized himself in a situation like this. He always saw himself acting decisively, heroically, making some kind of bold move. He’d never imagined this. He felt impotent. He was a coward. Myra, whatever she really was, had been right about that.

So Trey just stood there, waiting for the bullet that would end his life.

The woman advanced on him, keeping the gun aimed at that place between his eyes. She backed Trey all the way to the wall. He whimpered and began to slide to the floor.

Other people entered the room. He heard raised voices. Screaming. Someone out in the hallway was crying hysterically. There was a shouted command. He recognized Myers’s voice. He was telling the blonde woman to put down the gun. Telling her he would shoot her. As if that mattered. Trey almost laughed. There was no way Myers could know this woman was one of Myra’s acolytes. No way he could know no threat would sway her from this task.

The barrel of the gun pressed against his lips.

He heard Myra’s voice again: “Suck it.”

Trey was as helpless as ever. He opened his mouth and drew in the barrel of the gun. He licked the cold steel, and the blonde woman moved the barrel in and out of his mouth, mimicking the motion of a thrusting cock.

He heard Myers say, “Jesus fuck…”

Someone else said, “Aw, shit, man. Fucking shoot her!”

This was the voice of his brother. Trey felt an instant of mortification at the thought of Jake seeing him like this. But then he laughed around the barrel of the gun. He was about to die, but Myra would lose this follower. And maybe the strangeness of the blonde woman’s behavior would merit investigation of possibilities the cops might otherwise have ignored.

Trey saw Myers move into view over the blonde woman’s shoulder. The man was big and beefy. He had a helmet of thick black hair and a bushy black mustache. His brown eyes looked hard and determined. He placed the barrel of a 9mm pistol against the blonde woman’s temple. “Let’s stop this right now, sugar.” The cop’s accent was old-time Southern-fried hard-ass. “You don’t wanna hurt this boy. And I don’t wanna shoot ya. But I sure as shit will put a hole through your fuckin’ head in about one more second if you don’t step off.”

The woman’s head snapped toward him, and she flashed him a feral grin. “Okay.”

She eased the pistol from Trey’s mouth.

A look of uncertainty crossed Myers’s face. The detective knew something unnatural was happening here. Trey could see it in the man’s eyes. He wanted to cry. He thought there was at least a ghost of a chance this man might believe his story now.

Then a forced grin replaced the uncertain look. “That’s a good girl. Put the gun in my hand.”

Keeping the barrel of his own gun on her temple, Myers extended a hand.

Her smile then was saccharine sweet. “Yes, sir.”

A strangled cry emerged from Trey’s throat. He wanted to scream at Myers not to trust her, but he couldn’t get his vocal cords to work. He wasn’t paralyzed with fear, not this time, but Myra was again pulling his strings. He seethed with frustration.

The woman’s gun grazed Myers’s fingertips.

Then, before the detective could react, her hand moved with superhuman speed and jammed the barrel of the gun against the detective’s stomach. She squeezed the trigger twice, and the detective staggered backward. Blood blossomed across the front of his starched white shirt as he tumbled dead to the floor. His gun flew out of his hand, struck the wall close to Trey, and spun across the floor. The other officers that had entered the room behind Myers were shooting at the female cop and she was returning fire. As Trey stared up at her, chunks of blood-red meat flew from her back as her tan uniform blouse turned a dark shade of crimson.

Yet she remained on her feet, firing until her gun clicked empty.

Someone yelled at her to drop the gun.

Trey was flabbergasted.

Didn’t these people get it yet?

This bitch was not about to surrender.

She ejected the 9mm’s spent clip and calmly reached to her belt for a fresh clip. She slammed the clip home, racked a bullet into the chamber, and aimed again. The stupid Rockville cops finally decided to start shooting again, but they continued directing their fire at her torso.

Fuck it, Trey thought.

He pushed away from the wall and scrabbled across the floor. Two more of Rockville’s finest fell down dead before he managed to get to his feet with Myers’s gun in hand. Imitating the two-handed firing stance of the cops, he aimed the barrel at the side of the woman’s head and pulled the trigger. The bullet punched a hole through her head just above her ear, and a red spray like water shooting out of a hose erupted from the other side of her head. The force of the shot threw her sideways, but, to Trey’s astonishment, she still managed to remain upright. Goddamn, it was like trying to kill a zombie in a video game. And if he’d learned nothing else of value from playing video games, there was at least this-nothing succeeds like overkill.