by Dana Mentink
I will not let you fall.
The metal of the fire escape groaned as he tried to better secure her. He could hold her in place for a while longer, but didn’t have the leverage to pull her up by one wrist.
“You gotta help me, Candace,” he grunted. “Help me, honey.”
She tried feebly to raise her other arm and grab hold, but she was too depleted. Fear and defeat crept into her gaze.
I...will...not...let...you...fall.
His shoulders began to tremble with the excruciating effort. Marco breathed through the pain, drawing on reserves from way down deep.
With every nerve screaming in displeasure, he began to pull her up, inch by torturous inch.
Brent burst from the building onto the fire escape, reaching over to grab Candace’s sodden jacket. Still, Marco didn’t let up a fraction.
Together they hoisted her up until they were able to ease her onto the landing. Marco collapsed next to her, unable to get his muscles to respond to any kind of orders from his brain. Their faces upturned to the rain, they gasped together, sucking in lungfuls of precious air, until he finally got himself into a sitting position.
Brent bundled Candace back inside the clinic and set her on the exam table, and Marco trailed after, sinking into a chair. He sat panting, his muscles twitching from the abuse. Her hand found his as Brent checked her over for injuries.
“Tracy,” she sobbed. “He said he’d kill Tracy if I didn’t jump.”
Brent tried to soothe her. “It’s okay. You’re safe now.”
She struggled to a sitting position against his restraining grasp. “Don’t you understand? He’s got Tracy.”
“No, he doesn’t,” Brent said firmly.
She stared at him. “What?”
“I took Tracy out of the clinic after we got separated, and handed her to Donna.”
“Rico doesn’t have her?” Candace whispered.
“No. Tracy is safe. We’ll get you to her as soon as you can stand. Dev said the building is clear. Rico got away again.”
Candace let go of Marco’s hand, turned on her side and began to sob. Brent looked at Marco.
“Give her a minute,” Marco said, grateful that he, too, would have time to get his body back in line.
Brent nodded. “I’ll call the others. Watch for shock.”
“Yeah.”
A security guard charged through the door. “We’re okay,” Marco said. With a nod, the man whirled away to continue his sweep of the floor.
Marco thought through the next block of time in his mind. There would be cops. Lots of them. Questions. Candace looked so small curled up on that exam table. Rico had made her think that the only way to save Tracy was to sacrifice her own life. It tore at Marco worse than any pain he could remember. Rico was not just a terrorist, he was a monster.
With agonizing effort, Marco stood and rested his hands on her head. He wanted to pray aloud, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he stayed still, breathing with her.
He couldn’t erase the terrible reality of what had just happened to her, but he could spare her from any more trauma, at least for tonight. He sucked in a breath and fought through the agony in his body.
“Gonna get you out of here. I’ll stay to talk to the cops.”
She didn’t answer, didn’t move.
He smoothed a hand over her wet hair. Still no response.
“Candace, can you walk?”
She was sobbing quietly, her face shrouded by her hair. He pulled a sheet from the shelf above the bed and wrapped it around her. With a brutal effort that strained every sinew, he picked her up and walked down to the van, where he knew Brent and Tracy would be waiting.
* * *
Candace held her daughter all the way back to the safe house. Tracy was full of questions, because Brent had gotten her out of the clinic before she’d witnessed any violence. Candace was deeply grateful. She knew she should feel other things, too, like anger and relief and fear, but now she was numb, cold on the outside and frozen to the core.
Her mind couldn’t process what had happened. It was as though she was watching bits and pieces from a bad movie. Brent drove, and Donna kept sneaking worried glances at her from the corner of her eye as they went, Dev trailing behind them on his motorcycle. She wanted to ask about Marco, but simply couldn’t make her mouth work. Flashes of his face, his hands gripping hers, the agony in his eyes, darted through her mind.
When they arrived, Brent took Tracy off to find Bear. Angela hugged Candace, stroking her hair and whispering to her. Candace was mute. Angela pulled her to arm’s length and seemed to peek inside, as if she understood the confused misfiring of Candace’s heart. And maybe she did. Maybe this was what Angela’s PTSD felt like, as if she was trapped in a well of black emotion. Candace took her sister’s hand and squeezed. It was the only gesture she could manage.
“Come with me,” Angela said. “You need a hot shower.”
Do I? Candace thought dully. She didn’t even know what she needed, and was grateful to let her sister take charge.
Angela led her to the bathroom and started the water, adjusting the temperature until steam began to fill the tiny space. She helped Candace off with her clothes and guided her under, sliding the shower curtain closed.
“I’ll be sitting right outside the bathroom door,” Angela said.
And then there was the comfort of hot water and noise that seemed to mute the memories of what had happened, at least for the fifteen minutes she was in the shower. She tried hard not to think, just to feel the warmth. When the water started to run cold, she turned off the tap and Angela was there with a towel, her pajamas and a robe.
She guided Candace to the bed.
“Auntie?” Tracy asked from the doorway, tentative. “Can I see Mommy?”
Angela looked questioningly at Candace.
Candace pulled back the covers. “I saved a spot for you,” she said, her voice cracking.
Tracy hopped into the bed. A second later Bear catapulted up, too, rooting around until he found a comfortable space.
Angela started to shoo him off.
“Let them stay,” Candace said. “We’ll be okay.”
After a moment, Angela nodded. “Call me for anything,” she said.
Tracy’s arms went around her mother’s waist. Candace stroked the soft skin of her cheeks. “We’ll get you some medicine for your sore throat soon, baby.”
“Okay. Mommy, are we ever going to get to go home? I feel scared here. I miss school and my friends. I’m tired of all this sneaking around.”
“We’ll be home soon. Very soon.” Candace sighed, feeling the ache in her wrists where Marco’s grasp had kept her from falling. He’d managed this time, but how much longer could they outwit Rico?
Something deeper prickled her soul. She’d stared into his eyes when he held her and glimpsed into the deepest part of him, seeing a tide of emotion so transparent that it could not be mistaken for anything else but love. The realization washed through her like a wave, both exhilarating and terrifying. A part of her wanted to wade into that tide, to lose herself to the promise of a new love with a God-fearing man who would sacrifice everything for her.
Then the rush of guilt took its place. Rick was her husband and he would always be her husband. She could not betray him by giving her heart to another man, not even Marco Quidel.
“I was thinking about your father, baby,” she said. “Do you want to hear about the time he found the kittens in our basement?”
“Okay, Mommy,” Tracy said, and Candace began to bring her husband’s memory alive.
They talked for a long while, then Candace must have dozed, because when she opened her eyes, Tracy and Bear had gone. There was a quiet tap on the door. Angela stuck her head in.
�
��Ready for reinforcements?”
“What do you mean?”
She stepped aside to admit Donna and Brent, JeanBeth, Lon and Dan, Tracy piggybacked on the doctor’s shoulders.
Her mother reached her first. “I told Lon I was coming with or without him. He wisely decided to bring me.” She kissed Candace, who couldn’t hold back the tears. JeanBeth smoothed her hair as she’d done through all the enormous ups and downs of Candace’s life—the incredible blessing of Tracy’s birth, the day she’d gotten the news about Rick. Through Candace’s miscarriage, the loss of Bruce, the privilege of watching Tracy in every school program, swim meet and Christmas morning for nearly eight years. Until she’d had Tracy, Candace didn’t fully understand the depth of a mother’s love. Now she did, and she submerged herself in it gratefully.
When her tears relented, she wiped her face. “Isn’t it dangerous for you to be here?”
“Would have been dangerous for Lon not to let her come,” Dev said, socking the other man in the shoulder.
Lon smiled. “Wasn’t followed.”
“How do you know?” Donna said. After a moment she waved a hand. “Never mind. I don’t really need to know that, do I?”
“Not really, ma’am,” Dev said.
Candace looked around. “Where’s Marco?”
“Still with the cops. I had to talk with them, too, after I escorted you back here.” He grimaced. “They were not terribly warm and welcoming, and I’ve got a tension headache to prove it.”
Her heart sank. After the physical beating Marco had just taken, saving her, he was now enduring an interrogation from law enforcement to spare her more discomfort.
JeanBeth stood. “So it’s time for some serious praying.” Angela, Donna, her mother and Tracy joined hands together. The men stepped to the back of the room, and Lon and Dev headed for the door.
Donna giggled. “I think we scared ’em.”
“Oh, Lon’s just shy, I think,” JeanBeth said. “He’s been working through a Bible study with me, though.”
Candace gaped. “You’re kidding.”
“No,” she said, innocently. “It’s been a couple of decades since he’s been to church, so we’re doing some reading at home until he feels more comfortable.”
“You’re amazing, Mom,” Donna said.
JeanBeth shrugged. “It only required some gentle encouragement.”
“That’s a Gallagher for you,” Angela said.
Candace laughed, the grip of the horrifying events loosening as her family filled the room with prayer.
FIFTEEN
Marco was offered a bottle of water at the police station. He could really have used a fistful of aspirin and a couple ice packs to dull the fiery pain shooting through his ribs. He’d probably cracked a few and definitely strained every muscle in his torso, but Candace was safe, so he counted it all as a win.
He tried to refocus on Ridley and Barnes, who must have figured he didn’t have any other place to go. It was the only reason he could imagine for them to be asking the same questions over and over, after the Long Beach PD had done their initial investigation.
“We need to talk to Candace,” Barnes said.
“She’ll call you after she’s rested.”
“That’s not acceptable.” She leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Rico made his move in public this time and no one else can ID him except her. We have witnesses to Rico’s right-hand man, but she’s the only direct link besides you.”
“What about his second guy? Or the one from the parking lot attack? I call him Shoe Guy.”
“Shoe Guy escaped, and since your backup let Champ go,” Ridley said, “we’ve got nothing.”
“My backup had bigger problems, namely helping me keep Candace from falling.”
“Don’t you get it?” Ridley said, smacking a hand on the tabletop. “Rico’s inches from killing her because you and your massive ego are refusing to allow us to help.”
Lid on the temper, Marco. “This isn’t ego.”
“Oh, that’s exactly what this is. You think you’re smarter, stronger and better trained than law enforcement, don’t you?”
Barnes cleared her throat. “Take it down a notch, Ridley. That’s not helping.”
“Uh-uh. I’m tired of this hotshot here treating us like some bumbling amateurs. The fact is, Rico knew you were taking the kid to the clinic, and you can’t blame that one on us, can you? It was a leak on your end, if you’d engage your brain for a minute.”
Barnes shot him a warning look.
Marco shifted, the action uncorking a wave of pain in his side. He’d spent the ride over to the police station mulling over that exact detail. How did Rico know? How was he privy to their movements? Who was feeding him information?
“Mr. Quidel,” Barnes said. “We need Candace Gallagher. She can put Rico away and end all of this violence. Rico did his dirty work in a clinic this time. Candace wasn’t the only one in danger. There were doctors, nurses, patients. It could have been a catastrophe.”
He’d thought about that, too, between the rounds of questioning. Rico’s actions were getting desperate. Rico’s out of control. He’s gonna bring us all down. Marco had thought Champ was trying to skirt the blame, saying that, but maybe there really was unrest in the Pack about Rico’s actions.
His hands ached, trembling slightly from the excruciating effort of keeping Candace from falling. He put them under the table.
“You understand better than anyone how bad this guy is,” Barnes was saying.
Marco recalled Candace slipping slowly from his grasp as she dangled from the fire escape. Oh, yeah. He knew. “I understand your position,” he said, “and she will be contacting you. But she needs her family right now so you’re going to have to give her time.” He stood slowly, trying to keep the groan of pain inside. “If we’re all done here, I’d like to leave now.”
Barnes gave him a resigned nod. “All right. She must call us. Soon. Tell her.”
Ridley didn’t stand as Marco trudged for the door. “Your pride is gonna get her killed, you know,” he muttered.
“Like I said, this isn’t about my pride.”
“Yeah? Then what is it? Guy trying to save his lady love?”
Marco’s temper blazed hot. “Doing my job.”
“Your job is running a private investigation office. Following cheating husbands and chasing down stolen pets.” Derision simmered in his words. “Don’t get confused and think you’re still a navy hero because you’re not. You’re a civilian, Quidel.”
Marco continued out the door, his gut knotted tight. He stopped to fire off a question. “The other witness. Do you have him in protective custody?”
A quick tightening of the cop’s mouth told the truth.
“What happened, Ridley?”
Ridley stared at the faded bulletins tacked to the wall.
“What happened?” Marco repeated.
Ridley glared at him. “He’s dead, and a cop wounded. He was being transferred to another location and there was a drive-by shooting.”
It was so quiet he could hear the ticking of the clock high on the chipped stucco wall. “So Candace Gallagher is the only chance you have to bring down Rico.”
“Yeah.”
Marco knew in that moment he would take down Jay Rico on his own, no matter what. In order to do it, he might need to separate from the Gallaghers, for their protection, but if the cops couldn’t do it, he would have no other choice. The thought added to his pain.
He took the stairs slowly, suddenly feeling much older than his years as the discomfort attacked his every joint.
Candace was the only person who could destroy Jay Rico.
And Rico knew it.
* * *
The sun chased away th
e storm by midafternoon. Candace knew she should be calling the police, but she simply couldn’t make herself do it. She was sore and exhausted, with frequent flashbacks leaving her in a strange state of inertia, so instead of contacting the cops, she accompanied Tracy and Bear to the beach with JeanBeth, Lon and Marco. Perhaps the buttery sunlight would drive away the chill that seemed to have penetrated deep into her pores.
Her wrists ached, but the pain reliever Dan had brought with him dulled the edge of the discomfort. He’d also brought the antibiotics for Tracy that Dr. Finch prescribed after the strep culture came back positive, and assured her that a quick beach excursion would be safe. Marco and Dev had already scoured every inch of beach and tree line. Even so, Dev headed for a position down the road so he could radio Marco at the first sign of danger.
Candace sat on the remains of a fallen tree and watched Tracy making what appeared to be a sand volcano with her grandma. They had a lively conversation about the difference between lava and magma. Lon assigned himself to the job of retrieving rocks to decorate the construction. He went cheerfully about his mission, but continually scanned the beach. She caught a glimpse of the gun tucked in a holster under his arm.
The wind whipped Candace’s hair into a wild tangle, the air still cooler than usual after the passing storm. She felt a presence behind her.
Marco handed her the red scarf she usually kept crammed in her jacket pocket.
“You left it in the kitchen. Thought you might need it.”
She twined it around her hair and tied back the curly mop. “Thank you.”
There were so many things she wanted to say, but where to begin? Gratitude, she figured, was usually the best starting point.
“Thank you for saving me from falling.”
He looked away. “Sorry it happened in the first place.”
“Your ribs must hurt, and your arms. Bad?”
He shrugged. “You?”
“I think I’ll recover.” She held out her wrists. He took one gently in his big hand and skimmed an index finger over the bruises. The gesture made little sparks trail up and down her spine, so she eased herself from his grasp.