Trigger Warnings: Guns, Violence, and Mentions of Attempted Rape Standard Disclaimer for this whole work: I own nothing all credit goes to Lena Diaz and maybe a few credits goes to Fox's Glee creative team.

Chapter Thirteen

Rain whipped at Sam's face like dozens of icy-cold needles pricking his flesh. The ground was turning to mud, making the field treacherous and hard going. Lightning flashed overhead. He instinctively ducked down, not that it would have done him much good if the lightning had been close enough to hit him.

"Stop stalling. The cabin's straight ahead. Move."

He looked over his shoulder. The long bore of the rifle pointed steadily at him, but too far away for him to have any chance of knocking it down.

"Move," Rachel repeated, shouting to be heard above the storm.

"Drop the gun," he called out to her. "You haven't shot anyone yet. You can still get off without much jail time, maybe only probation."

She laughed bitterly. "I'm not going to jail. And if you want your girlfriend to live, you'd better get moving."

He clenched his fists but started forward again. Just ahead, the silhouette of a familiar cabin loomed in the dark. The same cabin he'd seen in dozens of crime-scene photographs, the one at the edge of the Anderson property where it joined his father's, and now his, as well. The cabin where Cooper Anderson had been killed ten years ago.

And now Sam knew who'd killed him.

He stopped at the door and glanced back. "Now what?"

Rachel motioned with her rifle. "Go inside and shut the door behind you."

Something metallic flashed in the moonlight just over Rachel's shoulder. She stiffened, then very slowly raised her hands in the air. The person behind her yanked the rifle away and shoved her toward Sam. Lightning flashed again, illuminating the man behind her.

Blaine Anderson, holding a wicked-looking knife.

He shoved the knife into the top of his boot and straightened, the rifle pointed at Rachel now.

"You okay, Detective?" he called out.

Sam looked at Rachel, who was glaring at Blaine.

"I'm fine," Sam yelled back. "Thanks to you. Follow me back to my house and I can handcuff her and check on Cedes." He grabbed Rachel's arm and yanked her toward Blaine.

When they reached him, Blaine was shaking his head. "Too far. This lightning's getting too dangerous to be outside. My house is much closer, and I've got a generator. We can call the police from there."

Another bolt of lightning struck close by, the thunder boom almost right on top of it. Sparks showered down from a nearby tree.

Sam swore, the hairs on his arms standing up from the electricity in the air. "That was close. Where's your house? I thought you lived with your father?"

He motioned toward the trees on the other side of the cabin. "Straight through there. I had it built for when I got out of the military. Close enough to help my dad when he needs me but not so close that I give in to the urge to strangle him." He grinned. "You know how families can be." He waved at the cabin. "The roof's gone on that, no shelter there. My house is the only place that makes sense. Let's go."

He headed past Sam, going at a fast clip toward the trees.

Sam hesitated, looking up the hill that would lead him back to his house. He hated leaving Cedes alone. If she woke up and saw the charred wood on the deck and his bloody handprint on the glass—both courtesy of Rachel's sick plan—she'd think the worst. What would she do then? Especially since Rachel had forced Sam to take his and Cedes's cell phones and toss them into the lake?

"He's waving at us," Rachel grumbled beside him, tugging at her arm to get him to let her go.

He tightened his grip. "Come on." He hurried after Blaine, pulling Rachel with him.

As soon as they rounded the copse, the lights from a two-story house came into view. Blaine was right, his house was much closer. He was standing on the porch already, waiting for them.

Sam bounded up the steps, pulling Rachel with him. When he reached the top, he shook his head. "It's a monsoon. Can't believe we were out there in that."

Lightning flashed again, thunder cracking overhead.

"It'll play itself out soon if you believe the weatherman. Come on in. The mudroom's on the right. We can dry off there."

The three of them sloughed off the rain with a handful of towels as best they could, then they headed into the main room of the house.

Sam directed Rachel to a chair beside the couch. "Sit down. Don't make me chase you. I'm mad as hell at you and won't take kindly to having to run out in that storm after you again."

She rolled her eyes and plopped down, crossing her arms and promptly ignoring both of them.

"Mad as a hatter," Blaine said.

Rachel glared at him, then turned away.

Sam shook his head. "I don't think Rachel's insane. I think she knows exactly what she's doing. She must have planned this from the moment she saw Cedes and me in town."

"What exactly did she do?" Blaine asked.

"Set my back deck on fire, for starters. I saw flames flickering outside and ran out to see what was going on, thinking lightning might have hit something close by. She was waiting right outside the sliding glass doors with her rifle. The rain put the flames out pretty quick and she poured a bottle of blood onto my hand and made me press it against the glass. Cedes is going to think the worst if she wakes up and sees that."

"It was possum blood. But your girlfriend won't know that. She'll think you got hit by lightning and you're done for. It'll be nice for her to be scared for a change, for her to see how it feels to have someone you love die," Rachel said.

"That was your plan?" Sam asked. "To kill me in that cabin? Like you killed Cooper?"

Her eyes widened. "I didn't kill Cooper. Cedes did."

Was Blaine right? Had Rachel lost her sanity and convinced herself she hadn't done what was now obvious? He studied her carefully as he said, "Cedes didn't kill Cooper."

"Oh, please. Everyone knows she did."

"I'm afraid that's my fault," Blaine said, sounding regretful. "I allowed everyone to think that for so long that after a while it seemed more like fact than conjecture."

Sam grew very still and turned toward Blaine. "What are you talking about?"

The rifle in Blaine's hand lifted, pointing straight at Sam's gut. "I think it will be better if I show you. Rachel, be a dear and get the DVD out from beneath the TV over there, the one on the bottom in the red case." He shrugged. "Red seemed only fitting. Makes it easy to find, too."

Rachel hesitated, looking confused.

The rifle swung toward her. "Hurry up," Blaine ordered. "Knowing dear old Dad, he'll make one of his men bring him over here to check on me in this storm. Not because he gives a damn but because the chosen one is long dead and I'm the only heir he has left." His mouth twisted in a sneer. "I'd rather have all of this over with before he does. It will be easier that way."

"What will be easier?" Sam asked, taking a step toward the other man.

"Don't," Blaine said, aiming the rifle at him again. "I don't want to hurt anyone. Don't force my hand. All I want you to do is watch a movie. Rachel, if you please."

She pressed a button, and a black-and-white picture displayed on the TV. Sam recognized it immediately.

"That's the interior of the cabin where your brother was killed."

"Yes, it is. Father is a bit obsessive about security. He has cameras all over the place. Imagine my surprise when I discovered he had one at the cabin. Thank goodness I was smart enough to look for it. This is the recording from that day. Oh, I have to warn you. Parts of it might be hard for you to watch, Sam. And the end, Rachel, I guarantee you won't appreciate that part. But I'm looking forward to our little movie night. I've been wanting to set the record straight for some time now."

The door opened on the screen.

"Ah, here we go," Blaine said. "Too bad we don't have popcorn. Ah, well. It's not like I planned this for tonight. When I saw Rachel out skulking around the property, I had to act fast. But I'm rather good at making the best of a bad situation. You'll see."

Sam clenched his fists at his sides as, on the screen, Cedes entered the cabin. There was no sound. But he could see the puzzlement on her face as she looked around. And he could clearly read her lips as she apparently called out, "Sam?"

"Isn't that sweet?" Blaine said. "She's looking for her lover, for Sam. Rachel, you'll want to pay particularly close attention to this next part. You've convinced yourself that Cooper loved you, that he wasn't using you for sex every time he went after his primary target and failed. I mean, come on, Rachel. Did you really think Cedes wanted Cooper? He was a slimeball. He stalked her for months. And every time someone saved her from his clutches, he'd run to you so he could pound out his frustration inside your body. That wasn't love, my dear. That was abuse. The man was sick."

Rachel stood off to the side, her face pale from both Blaine's words and the tableau playing out on the screen.

Sam wasn't doing much better himself. He was sick to his stomach seeing Cooper surprise Cedes in the cabin, then throw her to the floor, pawing at her and forcing her to suffer his groping hands all over her body. If Cooper Anderson had been alive today, Sam would be hard-pressed not to kill him himself.

"Turn it off," Sam ordered.

"And miss the best part? I think not." He winced. "Oh, that had to hurt."

On the screen, Cedes had just smashed a wine bottle against the side of Cooper's head. He dropped to the floor like a stone.

Rachel keened an animallike cry between her clenched teeth.

"Oh, good grief," Blaine said. "Even after seeing her supposed boyfriend trying to rape another woman, she's still upset over him getting hurt. You really need professional help, Rachel, love."

Sam had a pretty good idea that Blaine was the one who needed professional help. All these years he'd thought Cooper was the only crazy one. Apparently the crazy gene ran in the family.

As Cedes ran out of the cabin on the TV, Sam inched his way toward Blaine, very slowly so as not to draw his attention.

Blaine stared at the screen, his eyes lit with a half-mad light. "And now, folks. We've finally reached the good part."

Sam looked at the screen. A man wearing a dark jacket with a hood over his head entered the cabin and bent over Cooper. He slapped Cooper's face several times. Cooper winced, then his eyes fluttered open.

"Ah, there, you see?" Blaine said. "Cedes didn't kill my brother after all. That's what I wanted you both to know. Now watch very closely."

It didn't take long. The man in the cabin, with his back to the screen, was apparently arguing with Cooper. Cooper shoved him out of his way and headed for the door. The bat seemed to come out of nowhere, swinging right for the middle of Cooper's back. His body slammed against the door and plopped down onto his back on the floor, a trickle of blood dribbling out from the corner of his mouth. The bat slammed down again, this time on Cooper's stomach. Again and again it came down. Cooper raised his hands to protect himself and rolled over, trying to push himself up. The bat came down once more, twice, and then Cooper was still.

Sam stared in horror at the screen. Rachel had covered her mouth with her hands. And then the hooded man turned around, looked directly up at the camera, and smiled.

The same smile Blaine Anderson was giving Sam.

"Now you know," he said, sounding as if they were discussing the best crops to plant next spring, his voice relaxed and upbeat.

They were in big trouble.

Sam glanced at Rachel, then toward the French door behind her. She gave him a subtle nod, letting him know she understood.

He took a step toward Blaine as the movie went to black-and-white snow before replaying on a loop. "Why did you keep that recording all these years? And why play it now?" He intentionally positioned himself to give Rachel the most cover, moving another step forward to hold Blaine's attention.

The rifle pointed straight at him. Blaine held it at hip level, both hands keeping it steady. "Not another step, Sam. I just did you a favor. I saved your life out there."

"You did. And for that I'm grateful. But I'm not so sure you intend for me to live out the rest of this evening. Otherwise you wouldn't have played that movie."

"Well, yes. There is that. I might have lied just a bit about not wanting to hurt either of you," he conceded in a companionable voice. "It's been so hard keeping that secret all these years when all I ever wanted to do was brag to anyone who would listen that I'd finally erased that scumbag from the Earth. He was sick. I could tell you stories for days about the things he did. But it didn't matter. Not to our father. He knew how evil Cooper was. But he was the firstborn, the heir. So Daddy dearest did nothing, turned the other way. The only concession to Cooper's sick tendencies was that Dad hired all those security thugs to keep an eye on him. Not that they did much good. Cooper had his hands in Daddy's money already and he used it to grease the palms of the guys who worked for our father. Soon they were his cohorts, covering his tracks instead of stopping him. You know that better than anyone, Sam. They must have beaten you up half a dozen times while you were trying to get Cooper to back off from Cedes. You should be thanking me for killing him."

"I repeat, why save the recording?" Sam asked.

"For Cedes, of course. I like Cedes. She was always good to me back in school, even in middle school when I got teased and picked on so much, before I grew bigger and took self defense especially boxing and they became afraid of me. Before all that, Cedes would take up for me, tell the bullies to leave me alone. Don't you remember the early years of middle school when the girls were taller than us, before you sprouted up? I do. Cedes saved me from a lot of beatings back in the day. And I always regretted that I couldn't do more for her. Until Cooper. When I finally realized what he was doing, I vowed to figure out how to stop him once and for all. So I did. I saved Cedes. And I cleaned up all the evidence of her having been there so your boss couldn't prosecute."

Sam took another step toward Blaine, then stopped when the rifle raised to chest level. He put his hands in the air and wondered if Rachel was close enough to the door yet to make a run for it. "Easy, Blaine. I'm just trying to understand here. You saved Cedes by killing Cooper, but then you let everyone think she was the one who killed him. Why?"

Blaine winced. "I hated that part. Of course, I didn't want to go to prison. But I would have, if I had to. I saved that recording, and all of the evidence I took from the cabin, to use one day if I absolutely had to in order to keep her from being convicted. I would have sacrificed myself for her if it was necessary. You have to believe that. It's the only reason I saved such damning evidence."

He didn't know what to believe. But he played along. Why hadn't Rachel gone outside yet?

"I believe you," Sam lied. "You were a good friend to Cedes."

"Yes. I was."

"So what happens now?"

Blaine sighed. "Sadly, you and Rachel have to die. Neither of you will let Cooper's murder go. Ever since Cedes came back to town, you've started digging, digging, digging. That has to stop. With you and Rachel gone, and my dad dying soon from the cancer, there won't be anyone left who cares enough to push for answers about Cooper's death."

Blaine's finger moved from the frame of the rifle to the trigger.

Sam tried to stall him a little longer, inching closer. "Wait. I don't understand why you hired those gunmen—to grab Cedes at the Piggly Wiggly? Or to scare her?"

Blaine shook his head. "Don't ask me. That was all dear old Dad's doing. Say a quick prayer, Sam. Renounce your sins. Because you're about to meet your maker."

"What about the blood?" Sam rushed to ask him, holding his hands in the air. "If killing me is supposed to make the investigation into Cooper's death go away, won't my blood all over your living room just start a new investigation and put you right back in the same situation?"

"Well, I do plan on cleaning up the mess," Blaine reasoned.

"You can't clean up blood completely, not good enough so that a CSI guy can't find traces of it. You need to kill me outside, in the rain."

Blaine moved his finger back to the frame of the gun. "I know you're just stalling for time. But you do have a point. I wasn't too worried about blood when Cooper died, since it was all his anyway. But you're right. Explaining your DNA in my home might prove to be a problem. Move." He motioned with the rifle toward the front door.

The French door behind Sam finally swung open, slamming back against the wall in a burst of wind and rain.

Blaine's eyes widened and he stepped to the right, swinging the rifle toward the door.

Sam lunged toward him, praying he was close enough to reach him as Blaine swung the rifle back toward him.

Bam!