He needed to appeal to that side of her.

Not the side that watched her brother rape nearly two dozen women.

“Delilah? Can you come out so we can talk?”

“No! He’s doing it wrong!”

Delilah was angry and Miranda glanced from her to Quinn nearly a football field away.

Delilah had been hiding behind a hollowed-out, rotting tree. Her goal was to shoot Quinn when he came for Miranda. So Miranda could watch him die.

But Quinn wasn’t playing her game, and now Delilah was angry. She pounded the ground and pouted.

Quinn’s voice came over the speaker. “Delilah, this is between you and me now. No one else. You tell me what you want, and I’ll figure out how we can get it for you. Okay?”

“No!” Delilah jumped up and strode over to Miranda, the tip of the gun touching her head. Miranda couldn’t stop shaking. She’d seen Dick Walters’s body. Delilah would kill her, too.

And she would kill Quinn if she had an opportunity.

“Put the gun down so we can talk,” Quinn said. He was walking around the short side of the meadow. Seeming to be moving farther away, but Miranda knew what he was doing. Trying to get closer. Trying to distract Delilah from everything else going on. Miranda saw only one cop among the trees. There had to be more.

“No, no, no!” Delilah kicked the ground. “Don’t you see?” she shouted. “Don’t you get it? She has to die. But it doesn’t mean anything unless she sees you die, too. She killed Davy. She needs to suffer for taking him. Don’t you see that?”

“Delilah, I understand what you’re going through,” Quinn said. “Grief is a powerful emotion.”

“You know nothing about grief.”

“Try me.”

“No. You’re buying time. What are you doing? Getting a SWAT team to run in here and shoot me? Well, I’ll tell you, your girlfriend’ll die too.”

Delilah’s hand was steady, but she sweated profusely. Her eyes kept darting back and forth, like a rodent’s. Miranda waited for an opportunity to do something, but she had no idea what. She watched Quinn for a signal, but he wasn’t looking at her. His eyes were on Delilah.

He moved closer.

“Delilah, you don’t mean that. You made some wrong choices, but you didn’t kill any of those girls, right?”

“Who cares? No one cared when I told them what my mother did to Davy. They didn’t believe me.”

“I believe you, Delilah.”

“I’m not stupid, Special Agent Peterson,” she shouted. “I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to get me to break down in remorse and say I’m sorry. Well I’m not sorry. The only thing I’m sorry about is I didn’t let Davy kill this bitch-” she kicked Miranda in the side “-when she got away.”

Miranda started to close her eyes, ready for the pain of a bullet, when she saw Quinn motion with his hand. It was sign language. They were required to learn it at the Academy.

Get low.

From the opposite side of the field, a voice shouted, “Mom! Don’t!”

Delilah turned and the gun moved away from Miranda’s head. Miranda leaned down as far as she could.

“Ryan? You would betray me too?” Delilah turned the gun toward her son.

Then the noise.

Whap! Whap whap whap whap whap!

Delilah’s body was thrown backward into the tree as the bullets hit her. She fell into Miranda’s lap, her eyes looking right into Miranda’s.

“Peace,” she gurgled.

Her body jerked and she died. Miranda stared at Delilah Parker’s dead body.

Quinn knelt at her side and pushed Delilah’s body off her, then pulled out the gag. He untied her as he tried to hold her at the same time.

Quinn got her hands undone. She grabbed on to him, holding him tightly to her, silent tears running down her face. He picked her up, carrying her farther into the trees, away from death.

He kissed her, held her close. “I’m sorry we had to bring in Ryan, but-I only did it as a last resort.”

“I know.”

“Now, Miranda, it’s really over.”