InSight

Stewart expelled a series of grunts and sputters, as he gasped for the same air he took from his adversary moments before. The sound of his body crumpling to the floor sent Abby’s hopes ― her life ― tumbling down with him.
    Tears welled in her eyes. Stewart gave all he had, marshaling his depleted body for one last surge to save her, to give back part of the life he had stolen.
    “No, Mr. Collyer,” Mrs. Gentry cried. “Don’t shoot him. It’ll spoil everything.”
    Abby turned around. “No, don’t do it,” she screamed. “Don’t, please.”
    “I’m touched,” Collyer said, pushing Abby to the ground. “But I’ve had enough of this lunatic.”
    Stewart’s words echoed in the sudden stillness of the room. “Finally ,” he said. “Peace.” As he took his last pained breath before the blast of the gun shattered the silence, he uttered, “I will love you in the hereafter, Abby. Forgive me.”
    Abby’s head rattled. Stewart’s lament echoed in her ears. Then, the sharp crack of the gun harkened back eight years, to other gunshots, to other smothered lives. Abby screamed. “No, no, Stewart.” She crawled toward where she heard his last words, touched his shoes, and felt her way up his body. “I forgive you. I forgive you, Stewart.”
    “This is breaking my heart. Get up.” Collyer yanked Abby upright.
    “Oh, Stewart, my beautiful son,” Mrs. Gentry cried. “You fool, what have you done? You’ve killed my son.”
    Collyer clutched Abby by the arm, digging his fingers into the soft flesh. “You killed your son eight years ago, Mrs. Gentry, the minute you authorized filling him full of drugs. Too late to cry over it now. Pull yourself together. We have things to do.”
    Mrs. Gentry sighed. Abby heard her brush the wrinkles from her clothes. Then, as if a director yelled CUT, her tone changed.
    “Of course you’re right. I’ll mourn later.”
    Herbert Scanlon emerged from his silence in panic. “I didn’t sign on for murder, Carlotta. Drugs are one thing ― medical research to further healing—but murder is something else.”
    Mrs. Gentry’s haughty manner returned, erasing the feigned compassion of moments before. “If you think your research hasn’t been responsible for any deaths, Herbert, you have been deluding yourself. Do you know what some people do in the throes of psychedelic drugs? You haven’t made a peep all these years while using Stewart and the others as guinea pigs for your medical experiments. Why now have you grown a conscience?”
    “This is different,” he sputtered. “This is outright murder. I have to draw the line somewhere.”
    “What’s done is done. There’s no going back.” Then Mrs. Gentry screeched in Abby’s direction. “I told you I didn’t want a mark on Abigael, Mr. Collyer. Look at her. Nose and blouse all bloody. What were you thinking?” Then her tone changed once more, and the familiar ice-cold delivery knifed through Abby’s shoulder blades. “Clean her up.”
    Collyer laughed. “I don’t think so, Mrs. Gentry. Our plans have changed. Dr. Gallant will die right here in this building next to your son. Their bodies will be identified from dental records, because they’ll be nothing but charcoal after this place goes up.”
    The room went quiet and stayed that way until Mrs. Gentry spoke. “Yes, of course. Why didn’t I think of that? Brilliant, Mr. Collyer. Brilliant.”
    “You can’t send this place up in flames,” Scanlon said. “There are people here, sick people. And attendants. Plus years of my research. You can’t.”
    “Oh, stop it, Herbert. Labs can be rebuilt.”
    Other people in the building? Abby had forced Collyer to hit her, setting him on the path to mass murder. What had she done?
    “I don’t have time for this,” Collyer said. “Doctor Scanlon, remove the bullet from Stewart’s body.”
    “What? I’ll do no such thing.”
    “Yes, you will, or I’ll put another one just like it into you. Then I’ll remove both of them. This place will go up like a bonfire. Stewart couldn’t very well rig the place to blow with a bullet in him, now could he? ”
    “Do it, Herbert,” Mrs. Gentry ordered.
    Scanlon groaned. The sound of rubber gloves snapped in place. No one spoke.
    “I suggest you and this sniveling, bleached doctor pet of yours get the hell out of here, Mrs. Gentry, because we’re about to have a major Fourth of July pyrotechnic display.”
    Abby could almost hear Mrs. Gentry thinking as she