The sergeant and her detectives are busily sorting through the evidence, hoping to finally piece the case together, when her phone rings.
"Bower," she says, turning away from her crew.
Kirk and Jerry are still bickering over a conflicting piece of evidence. Their voices rise, making it difficult to hear. Frustrated, the sergeant shoots them an unnerving stare as she waves at them to hush. They're worse than my kids, she thinks, blocking her free ear.
"Are you sure it's her?" She pauses for a moment, then says, "We'll meet you there."
Hanging up, she turns towards her crew. "That was Branson PD. They claim they spotted our suspect entering an abandoned motel on Gretna Road." Standing, she grabs her jacket from the back of her chair and then her gun from the desk drawer, turns, and says, "Suit up and meet me out front in ten."
***
Getting a call from Josh's lawyer felt like a punch in the gut. The attorney claims that both he and Jake are being held and that the officers are working on a search warrant for their homes, urging her to flee. Millie despises the idea of abandoning them, especially since she's the one that got them into their current mess. It will only be for a little while, she reassures herself, knowing she can finally turn the tables, removing all suspicion away from her and them.
Millie replays the facts in her mind. If not presented right, the evidence could send me away for the rest of my life. She then pictures Jake and Josh's faces in her mind and sighs. It's a chance I have to take. Frantically tossing her belongings back into her suitcase, she calls her friend for a ride.
Millie glances around the cabin one last time before doing the deed that could very well put her away for life. This is it, she nervously gulps, closing the door behind her.
***
She's settling in her motel room when she hears a knock on the flimsy wooden barrier. Assuming it's the manager, she rushes to the door. Her body trembles, and her heart pounds furiously in her chest as she stares at her visitor in disbelief. It can't be, she thinks. Memories of her stabbing him replay in her mind. She then recalls Steven taking a final deep, labored breath. He couldn't have survived my attack. She closes her eyes, then opens them again only to find he hasn't budged.
"Nice try trying to get rid of me," Steven says, shoving his way inside.
She stumbles back, landing on the edge of the bed with a gasp.
"Don't look so confused, Millie."
"But I'm…"
"You killed my look-alike, not me." Steven flicks his fingers dismissively. "
"She nervously glances towards the door, hoping the one she was expecting didn't show.
The manager, Julia Clark, William's wife, was supposed to be her grand finale in her killing spree, but now she knows Steven is still alive; she'll have to deal with him too. Glancing at the knife lying across the room, she quickly calculates the distance in her mind. Two seconds tops, she thinks, her eyes darting between the weapon and him.
Steven's expression turns cold and hard as he crosses the room. He scoops up a fistful of her curls, then tightens his grip to make sure it hurts. His hot, alcohol-tinted breath pelts against her face, nearly making her sick as Steven moves in. Grabbing the gun with his free hand, Steven shoves it against the center of her forehead. He presses the weapon firmly against her skin and says, "I'm ending this fiasco you call a marriage once and for all."
****
The sergeant and her crew pull into the motel parking lot to find several empty cruisers parked on the far corner of the lot. She looks towards the building to find a few cops around back. The remaining officers are heading towards the front. Rachel glances at the scene again to find the entire team suited in heavy, ballistic vests. A moment later she sees a man in a tactical jacket walking towards them.
Parking, Rachel and her crew climb out of the car.
"Sergeant Bower, I'm Captain McNeal. We spoke earlier on the phone," he says with a curt nod. The man thumbs over his shoulder towards his crew before he continues. "We were going to wait per your request, but then we got a call about shots being fired in your suspect's room."
The sergeant turns towards her crew. "Jerry, you and Bill take the back; Kirk and I will cover the front."
"There's no need for…"
Rachel and her crew were gone before he had time to finish.
Reaching the crew, Rachel makes her way to the front. She taps the first in line on the shoulder.
He turns, recognizing her, and gives her a quick nod.
The battering ram smacks the barrier, wood splinters, and the door flies open.
The sergeant steps inside to find a woman hunkered down in the corner, her legs drawn up to her chest, sobbing uncontrollably. Blood is splattered across her face, clothes, and walls. Stepping further in, she notices a man identical to Steven dead on the floor with what appears to be a single bullet wound to his heart; a dark stain pools all around him. A .33 is lying on the stained carpet between the victim and the terrified woman.
Walking over, Rachel kicks the weapon away. She grabs the woman's arm and firmly lifts the suspect to her feet. In a stern voice she says, "You are under arrest for murder."
"I shot him in self-defense," the woman cries, tears spilling down her blood-streaked cheeks.
Steven's fiancée, Julia, glances up from the motel desk to find her recent check-in being led across the lot in handcuffs, her eyes focused on the ground. Julia then notices the blood splatter covering her hand and face.
A few minutes later, she sees two EMTs pushing a gurney towards their bus.
A sense of relief surges through her. I'll never have to put up with his shit again. She smiles.
Taking Steven's new will from the desk drawer, she reads it and smiles. Everything he owns is to be left to me. It was something she'd planned when they first met. She rubs her swollen stomach, then turns to her second child playing on the floor. Her smile broadens when she says, "Mommy made sure that we'll never have to do without ever again."
Julia had considered killing him herself, but his sudden change in his will would make her a
suspect. So instead, she made the call—telling Steven where his estranged wife was, fully
aware of what would happen the moment Millie saw him again. Thanks to her putting
everything in place, Millie now realizes what a scum Steven truly is. I only had to embellish
a little, she laughs, recalling what was said. Besides, the cops like her for six murders, so,
one more won't hurt. She chuckles again.
Julia is picturing her lavish lifestyle in her mind when she hears a voice echoing in the back. She turns to find a tall, thin figure emerging from the darkness. She reaches for the gun hidden in the desk drawer only to find it isn't there. More panicked than ever, Julia scans her surroundings, hoping to find something that will suffice as a weapon.
The footsteps continue to get closer.
Grabbing a letter opener from the top of the desk, Julia turns to find Millie's lookalike heading her way. Tightening her grip on the metal object, she glances at the woman crossing the lot and then at the one walking towards her. "I…I don't understand." She mutters, a look of confusion on her face.
The mystery woman nods towards the busy lot. "That's Lilly, my twin. She, William, and Steven were trying to frame me for all the murders. Speaking of my darling husband, I wouldn't count on his money anytime soon." She slides a photo towards her before she continues. "Steven is living it up in the Bahamas with his new fling."
"That's not possible."
"Oh, but it is."
"No, you don't understand." Pointing to the photo, Julia continues to explain, "That can't be Steven because I…"
"Set him up to be killed? Yeah, we know. Only it was the imposter that came to the motel, not Steven."
"How do you know?"
"The police have a recorded conversation between you and who she assumed to be me."
The police dart into the room. "Julia Clark, you're under arrest for conspiracy to commit murder."
"But I…"
"Save it for the judge."