TWENTY





What are you doing here? Sydney asked as she sat up and drew her knees to her chest.

Sloane's trademark creepy smile appeared on his lips. Some of your friends broke into my house after you and I had our little chat.

Sydney shook her head. I know, um, they decided to storm the house when I went back and— She swallowed hard. —told them the story.

The story being...? Sloane urged her to explain.

I told them the information I received and how it—erm—ended.

Sloane nodded.

What do you want? Sydney asked, growing frustrated. I thought this was over.

You honestly believed that? Sloane asked.

Sydney's bottom lip trembled and she looked down to hide her tears from Sloane, who scoffed and shook his head.

Why can't it end? Sydney asked him as she looked up, her chocolate-brown eyes glassy.

It could have, Sloane told her, if you hadn't betrayed me.

Sydney stared into his eyes. What you call betrayal, I call

Sloane narrowed his eyes at her, willing her to look away. Sydney refused to avert her gaze. In one quick movement, Sloane produced an automatic pistol and fired in Sydney's direction.

She barely flinched. The shot pierced a shampoo bottle near her then lodged itself in a wall.

I'm not afraid of you, she said bravely.

Sloane cocked his head to one side and kept his gun trained on her. You really think you're in a position to make such a comment?

I don't care anymore. Her eyes were still locked on Sloane's and didn't show the slightest hint of fear.

Sloane steadied the gun and moved it to where he wanted to fire.

Sydney shrugged and shook her head. Do it, she urged. It doesn't matter. She sighed a little. You killed me years ago.

Sloane almost seemed hurt by the remark, but kept the gun aimed at her.

Sydney continued. I have one person to live for, and I think he would understand if you did this.

Sloane clenched his teeth but stayed silent.

He would no doubt infer that I had something to do with your final decision in deciding whether or not to kill me and would certainly understand why, so go ahead.

Sloane cleared his throat. What if I told you that I was planning on killing him, too?

Sydney's eyes widened. You mean, after you kill me, you're going to stay here and stake him out?

Not exactly, Sloane told her. You see, your precious Tippin is tied up in my car.

Sydney's eyes began to tear.

I caught him walking out of the house, Sloane explained.

Sydney swallowed and suddenly felt a tinge or bravery again. So what are you waiting for? Kill me. Get it over with.

Sloane gave a small sigh of frustration.

What's the matter? Sydney taunted. You're not afraid, are you?

Sloane clenched his teeth and fought to steady the gun.

Do it, Sydney commanded. Sloane stayed still. Oh, I get it: you're afraid of having someone's blood on your hands. You're not the least bit remorseful when you have someone else do your dirty work. She glared at him, saw him look down, probably thinking of what had happened with Danny.

Sloane suddenly felt his eyes start to water. Sydney noticed and tried to decide if it was in guilt or the fact that he was no longer in control of the situation. He lowered the gun and held his head in one hand.

Just then, someone crept up behind him with a vase and broke it over his head. Sloane stared at Sydney for a moment before falling forward onto the floor.

Sydney smiled when she saw who it was. She rethought her response to Sloane. Maybe she had two people to live for.