by Lolli Powell
Coughing and gasping in air, he kicked her viciously in the ribs. She rolled away from him, but he went after her. Will had made it to his feet, and as Artie drew his foot back to kick Jen again, Will made several unsteady hops and launched himself against Artie’s back. The two of them went down, but before Will could roll away and try to get back to his feet, Artie punched him in the midsection, knocking the wind out of him. Will bent his legs, and as Artie started to get up, he kicked out and caught Artie in the hip, knocking him back down.
Will rolled toward Artie. Maybe he couldn’t get to his feet again, but he could kick lying down. Beyond Artie, he could see Jen rising up and thought she’s amazing. Her face was swollen, one eye nearly shut, her forehead bleeding, her lips split open, but the look in her good eye was determined. She never looked his way, instead focused on Artie, and right then Will decided he wouldn’t like to be in Artie’s skin.
Artie must have decided that fighting the two of them—even with one restrained and the other partially restrained—was a losing battle. He jumped off the floor, and in seconds was back at the table where he’d left his gun. He wasted no time snatching it up and pointing it their direction. His hands were shaking, but he began to laugh, his eyes filled with mad glee.
“What did I tell you, Agent Anderson?” he rasped out between gulps for air. The front of his throat was an ugly red that was rapidly turning purple. Will guessed Jen had done damage to Artie’s throat, but unfortunately, not enough. “She’s a fighter, isn’t she? Much stronger and smarter than the great FBI guy. I can’t wait to get started on her.”
He zeroed the gun’s sight in on Jen.
“Get up and get over here.”
Jen told him to do something anatomically impossible to himself.
“Gonna be like that, is it?” Artie swung the gun toward Will. “Okay, then, how about this? Every time you refuse my commands, I’ll put a bullet in a piece of your sweetie here. I won’t kill him—yet—but by the time I’m done, he’ll be begging me to do it. I’ll start with a foot—no, maybe just a toe. Start small, I always say, then work up.”
“No, no, wait! I’m getting up. See?”
Jen got to her feet, stumbling a bit as she straightened. Will could see she was woozy from the blow she’d taken from the spotlight. He bent his tied legs, trying to get them under him. If he could make it to his feet, he might be able to put himself between Jen and Artie and give her a chance to escape.
“Jen—” he started, but before he could say any more, the door to the cabin burst open, slamming against the inner wall thanks to the kick Al had delivered.
Artie’s eyes widened, and he began to swing his gun toward the new arrival, but Al fired before Artie could complete the motion. Al hadn’t had time to aim, and the bullet only struck Artie in the right arm. The gun dropped out of his now useless hand to the floor, and he screamed in pain, grabbing his arm.
“You shot me!”
“Yeah, but you’re still breathing,” Al said.
He took two steps closer to Artie, focused on the man, his gun trained on his midsection. As Will saw his finger start to tighten on the trigger, Jen called out.
“Al, don’t! You got him. You saved us. That’s enough.”
“Remember what I said, Jen?” Al kept his eyes on Artie, not looking at Jen as he addressed his words to her. “He’ll get off on an insanity plea, maybe get locked up in some institution, but he’ll live. Trish didn’t get to live. Neither did the other women he murdered. Why should he?”
“He won’t get off, Al. Ted Bundy didn’t get off, did he? BTK didn’t get off. He’ll go to prison, and there’s a good chance he’ll get the death penalty. Even if he doesn’t, he’ll never get out.”
Will saw Al’s finger tighten more. He was a hair away from exerting enough pressure on the trigger to fire the gun. Artie knows it, too, Will thought. Artie was staring at the gun, but there was no fear in his eyes. He was looking at the weapon with what looked like fascination, as if he had just seen something he couldn’t explain—or maybe something he welcomed. Maybe he did welcome death, Will thought. Maybe he figures he’d be reunited in Hell with the monster who raised him.
“He wants you to do it, Al.”
Al glanced at Will, startled, as if he’d just realized he was in the room.
“What?”
“Look at him. He wants you to do it. He doesn’t want to be locked up like his crazy father. He wants to go out in a blaze of glory. Don’t make it easy on him by giving him what he wants.”
“He deserves to be wiped from the face of the Earth.”
“I can’t argue with that,” Will said. “And if you pull that trigger, I’ll back you up. I can’t speak for Jen, but my guess is she will, too. We’ll say that you fired both times because he was holding a gun on us. But is that what you want? Do you want to let him off easy and make us live with a lie at the same time? Do you want to live with that lie? You’re a good and honorable cop, Al. Don’t let him take that away from you.”
Al and Artie stared at one another for several seconds, Artie smirking as if he was the one who had the upper hand. And maybe he does, Will thought. When you’re willing to die, you do have the upper hand.
Al sighed and relaxed his trigger finger. He had opened his mouth to speak just as Artie made a lunge for the gun he’d dropped when Al shot him. Al fired, and Artie dropped to the floor, screaming, blood spreading across the knee of the left leg of his pants. In a second, Al was across the room, kicking the gun away from Artie’s reach.
“Oops,” he said. “Missed again. Guess I need to put some time in on the range. Bet getting shot in the knee really hurts, doesn’t it?”
Before Artie could respond, the room was overrun as Lonnie, Don, and five uniformed officers stormed into the cabin.
“We need three ambulances up here stat!” Lonnie shouted into his radio. The radio crackled as the dispatcher acknowledged him. In a more controlled tone, Lonnie added, “I’ll get a uniform down at the road to direct them. Tell ‘em to hurry.”
Will lay back on the floor and turned on his side so Don could get the cuffs off him. He sat up, unbuckled the belt around his ankles, and unwound it from his legs
“Brandon?” Will heard Jen say.
“He’s okay,” Lonnie said. “He’s at the station waiting for you.”
“Ada?” Her voice broke.
“Last I heard, alive. He hurt her, though. Bad.”
One of the uniforms handed Will a pocketknife. He began sawing on the rope around his calves, but his hands wouldn’t stop shaking enough to make any headway. Suddenly Jen was beside him on her knees.
“Let me.” She extended her hand and took the knife away from him. In just a few seconds he was free. He reached out and pulled her to him. She buried her face in his chest and began to sob. If Artie hadn’t still been there to see it, Will thought he might have joined her.
CHAPTER 63
The mood was somber as Will, Jen, and Brandon made their way across the parking lot. Brandon had insisted on wearing his suit. Will wore a suit as well, and Jen felt a little underdressed in her slacks and top. She’d put one of her nicer dresses on at first but had decided the black eye, purple cheek, and angry red cuts looked extra bad when combined with dressier clothes.
She ached all over, and her eyes felt gritty from lack of sleep. The aches were partly to blame for her insomnia but so was guilt. How many times had Ada begged her to get out of police work? She’d been afraid for Jen’s safety, but it had never occurred to either of them that Ada might be the one in danger.
She took a deep breath as the automatic doors slid open. Will squeezed her hand and stepped forward to the reception desk.
“We’re here to visit Ada Levinson,” he said to the grey-haired woman behind the counter.
“Levinson, Levinson,” the woman repeated the name as she typed it into her computer. “Room 330.”
She smiled at Will and gestured toward the elevators.
“It’s two floors up. Turn left when you get off the elevator.”
Will thanked her, and the three of them headed for the elevators. Will, Jen, and Brandon moved to the back of the car as an orderly pushing an older man in a wheelchair got on with them. The patient didn’t bother to hide his curiosity as he stared at Jen and Will, who had a few bruises of his own showing on his face.
“You two go a few rounds?” he said, smiling to show he was joking.
“You could say that.” Will smiled back at the man. “Not with each other, though.”
“They caught—” Brandon started, but Jen put her hand on his shoulder.
“That’s enough, sweetie,” she said.
The orderly and the patient glanced from Brandon to her. Something in her expression must have told them to drop the subject because they did. They got off on the third floor, too, but turned the opposite direction from Ada’s room. Jen waited till they’d moved out of earshot before turning to Brandon.
“Let’s not talk about what happened to everyone we run into, okay?”
“But, Mom, it’s all over the news anyway. You guys are heroes.”
“No, we’re not ‘heroes.’ We were just doing what we’re paid to do.”
“They’re saying you’re heroes on the news. You and Will and Al.” Brandon glanced at Will as if to say “help me out here,” but Will just grinned at him and shrugged his shoulders as if to say “you’re on your own, kid.”
“Newscasters like to label things,” Jen said. “It’s boring just saying a cop did his or her duty and caught a bad guy. Labeling them heroes is more dramatic.”
“Your picture was on the news,” Brandon pointed out. “So people are gonna know who you are anyway.”
“With this face?” Jen waved her hand at her bruised face. “Does this look like the picture you saw on the TV?”
“She’s got a point,” Will said. “That woman is gorgeous. This one? Monster material.”
Brandon burst out laughing.
“Keep it up, you two.” Jen gave them a mock scowl. “And you’ll see the monster come out.”
“You’re no monster, Mom” Brandon said. “You’re a monster-slayer.”
“That she is.” Will slid one arm around Brandon’s shoulders and the other around Jen’s. “That she is.”
As the three of them continued down the hall, checking numbers as they passed the rooms, Jen relished the warm feel of Will’s arm around her shoulders. The only time they’d been separated since the cabin was while being treated in the emergency room, and even then they were in neighboring cubicles. The doctor had insisted on admitting Jen overnight to rule out a concussion. He’d wanted Will admitted as well, but Will had refused.
“I’m staying in her room,” he’d said, “so if anything goes south with me, I’ll be right here. But I’m not letting her out of my sight.”
The doctor had reluctantly agreed, and when Jen went upstairs to a room, the staff found him a cot. Al brought Brandon in to see them, and after tears and hugs all round, took him to spend the night at his house.
“Thank you,” Jen had said, tears in her eyes. “For everything.”
“I should be the one thanking you,” Al said.
“For what?” Brandon was the only one in the room who was out of the loop, and Jen wanted it kept that way. But before she could come up with something her son would believe, Al came to the rescue.
“What do you mean, for what? For letting me and Sally have you as a guest. Of course, you’re gonna have to do some work for your bed and food. Let’s see—wash dishes, take out the garbage, run the vacuum—maybe laundry if you won’t mess it up. Does he know how to do laundry, Jen?”
“No, but he’s a quick learner.”
“Okay, if you don’t want to tell me, don’t tell me.”
“What do you mean, don’t tell you? I just did.” Al ruffled his hair. “Let’s get outa here. Sally’s ordered pizza, and these guys need their rest.”
Will had set up his cot close to Jen’s hospital bed, and the two of them had fallen asleep soon after, her hand dangling off the side of the bed and touching his. They’d been released the following morning. Before they’d left the hospital, they’d gone by Ada’s room. When she’d seen the old woman lying unconscious in the bed, looking so frail and helpless, she’d begun to quietly cry. Will had held her until she’d gotten herself under control, and then they’d gone to the station to take care of the mounds of paperwork that crime fighting required. They’d gone back to her apartment after and fallen asleep in one another’s arms.
Sally brought Brandon home the next day. The first thing he asked was if they could go see Ada. Jen hesitated, not sure she wanted Brandon to see Ada the way she was. But then she realized he wasn’t a child anymore. He loved Ada like a grandmother. If she died before he had a chance to see her, he might never forgive her.
“Let me call the nurse’s station,” she said, “and make sure it’s okay. Some hospitals have age restrictions.”
“That’s not fair,” Brandon started, but she held up her hand.
“Fair or not, that’s the way it is. But I’m pretty persuasive, so why don’t you go get ready?”
Jen half hoped the hospital would refuse to let Brandon visit. That way she could protect him from the shock of seeing Ada without having to be the bad guy. But when she was transferred to the nursing station for the floor that Ada was on and was informed that Ada was awake, everything changed. The nurse was hesitant at first about Brandon visiting, but like Jen had told Brandon, she could be pretty persuasive.
“For a few minutes only, though,” the nurse finally agreed. “For you as well. She needs her rest.”
“I understand,” Jen said. “Thank you.”
After she hung up and gave Will the good news, she began to wonder if the fact Ada was awake would make any difference to the effect on Brandon. It might be worse if Ada was awake but didn’t recognize them. But it was too late to worry about that now. She had permission and Brandon wanted to go.
Now as they stopped in front of the closed door of room 330, she hesitated.
“Mom?”
“Maybe they’re doing something,” she said to explain her hesitancy. “Maybe we should check with a nurse first—”
“Or maybe we should just knock,” Will said and rapped his knuckles twice on the door.
A smiling nursing assistant opened the door. The smile faltered when she saw the condition of their faces, but she quickly recovered.
“Hey, Ada, looks like you’ve got company,” she said over her shoulder. To them she said, “I was just checking her vitals.”
She stepped aside and motioned them through, then stepped out, closing the door behind her. Jen started toward the bed, but Brandon wiggled around her and got there first. Jen held her breath, afraid all he would get from Ada would be a blank stare, but her worry had been for nothing. Ada’s face split open in a huge smile, her eyes filling with pleasure.
“There’s my favorite young man.” She reached her right hand out toward Brandon, and he took it in both of his. As her eyes moved up and focused on Jen, her smile vanished. “Oh, my word. You look like you should be in this bed instead of me.”
“It’s not as bad as it looks.” Jen waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. Leaning over, she gave the old woman a peck on the forehead. “I’m so sorry for what happened to you, Ada. You shouldn’t have had to be involved in this.”
This time it was Ada who gave a dismissive wave.
“Oh, I’ll be okay. The doctors say I’ll probably be released in a day or two. I keep telling them I feel good enough to go home now, but you know how they can be with old people. They seem to forget that if we’ve lived this long, we must be pretty tough.”
“You’re definitely that, Ada.”
Ada turned her eyes on Will and motioned him closer.
“I’ve never been properly introduced to you,” she said. “I’m guessing you’re going to be hanging around the building a
lot, so it’s about time. I’m Ada Levinson.”
“And I’m Will Anderson.” He held out his hand, smiling. Ada pulled her right hand out of Brandon’s grasp, shook Will’s hand, and took hold of Brandon’s hand again.
“You don’t look quite as bad as Jen,” she said, “but you both look like you’ve been through the wringer. I saw the news. You got him, but it doesn’t look like it was easy.”
“He won’t be hurting anyone again,” Jen said. “That’s all that matters.”
“Yes, I guess it is.” Ada sighed. “Oh, I can’t wait to be out of here and back in my apartment. And when I am, I expect the three of you to come for dinner. That is”—she looked at Will—“if you’ll still be around?”
Will smiled and slid his arm over Jen’s shoulders.
“I will be unless this woman runs me out of town.”
“Hmmph.” Ada raised her eyebrows. “Fat chance of her doing that, don’t you think?”
“I certainly hope so.”
They only stayed a few more minutes as Ada started looking tired.
“She’s gonna be okay, isn’t she, Mom?” Brandon said as they waited for the elevator.
“It certainly looks like it,” Jen said. “Thank God.”
As they rode down, the conversation was all about Ada, but as they stepped through the sliding doors, and Brandon ran off to open the car, Jen looked at Will. She felt suddenly shy but forced herself to ask the question she had to ask.
“Did you mean what you said to Ada?”
“You mean, about being around unless you run me off? I sure did.”
“But what about your job? Won’t you have to go back to Chicago?”
“For a little while,” he said. “But there’s a vacancy in the Cincinnati field office and I’ve put in the transfer request. If that doesn’t go through, I’ll try for Indianapolis or Louisville. Either one would be closer than Chicago. And while I’m still in Chicago, I’ll be down every weekend.”