by Karen Rose
A racket in the hallway had her stiffening, listening. She opened her mouth and drew a breath, trying to decide if she should scream for help. But if anyone lived here, they were probably drug addicts like him. They wouldn’t help her and she’d just make him mad. So she closed her mouth, praying they’d be quiet and let him sleep.
So I can run. Please. Please, just let him stay asleep.
Her hopes were dashed when someone jiggled the doorknob and cursed. The door creaked when whoever was outside threw themselves against it, trying to break it down.
Above her, the bed pitched as he rolled over. He’s awake. Dammit.
‘Go away,’ he slurred. ‘Jus’ go the hell away an’ leave me alone.’
‘Gage?’ The voice was low and urgent. Uncle Denny. ‘Open the door.’
Jasmine’s heart leaped, then fell with a hard thud that felt like somebody’d punched her. Uncle Denny had known her father was here. Denny had been a part of this. Can’t trust him.
No, she corrected herself, Gage Jarvis was not her father. He was a killer. Not my father. And for that she was grateful.
Gage didn’t stir from the bed, moaning another plea to be left alone, but Denny began banging on the door.
‘Open up! Open this door or I will turn your fucking ass in, and I am not kidding!’
‘Shut the fuck up! I’m coming!’ The bed creaked as Gage hefted himself to his feet. He staggered to the door, nearly tripping over Jasmine and Janie. ‘Goddammit,’ he snarled, and kicked at them. The toe of his shoe caught Jasmine’s hip, but he’d thrown himself off balance and it didn’t really hurt. Not like it might have.
He made it to the door, his back to them now. Covering Janie’s sleeping body with her own, Jasmine looked around frantically. There was just one door, and the window was stuck shut. She knew that because he’d complained when he’d been unable to open it himself.
Think. Think. Janie was still tied. I shouldn’t have stopped. Shouldn’t have rested. She’d never get past them. Not if she was carrying Janie. But I’m not leaving her behind. No matter what.
Gage opened the door a crack. ‘What do you want, for God’s sake?’ he hissed.
His back was to them, so Jasmine sat up and pulled Janie’s feet close, frantically yanking at the knots. Just a little more. A sob was building in her throat. Don’t cry, she told herself. He’ll hear you. He’ll kill you both and Uncle Denny won’t help you.
‘I’m here for Ma,’ Denny said in a duh voice. ‘You told me to come get her.’
‘You’re hallucinatin’,’ Gage said, shaking his head. ‘And I’m the drunk one.’
‘Let me in. I’ll take Ma home and you can go your merry way.’ The door moved as Denny tried to force it open.
Gage shoved it back. ‘And I’m telling you she’s not here. She’s at the fucking park.’
‘Right now? It’s dark outside.’
‘How should I know where she is right now?’ Gage spat back belligerently. ‘Last time I saw her she was in the park. That was this afternoon.’
‘This afternoon?’ Denny echoed, panic edging into his voice. ‘Why would she go to the park in the first place? It’s over a hundred degrees out there.’
Gage sighed heavily. ‘Because she met me there, okay? She was still there when I left. I’m sure she’s fine.’
But even Jasmine could hear the uncertainty in Gage’s voice.
‘What have you done, Gage?’ Denny asked, the panic in his voice becoming fear.
‘Nothin’. And I got nothin’ more to say to you,’ Gage said thickly. He tried to close the door, but Denny pushed harder.
‘But you texted me,’ Denny insisted. ‘Here, look at my phone, at this picture.’
‘I did not send you any text. Get your phone out of my fuckin’ face.’ He was still a little drunk, but mostly he sounded sleepy and grumpy. From the corner of her eye Jasmine saw him push Denny’s hand away. ‘Look at the picture yourself. I need to sleep.’
Her heart pounded in her throat as her fingers scrabbled with the rope, but it finally – finally – loosened and she flung it away. Janie stirred, also finally, but her eyes were wide and glassy. Like Gage, she was still half asleep.
Jasmine put her finger over her lips and Janie closed her eyes again with a smile.
‘Oh no,’ Denny said quietly. ‘Oh God. This picture wasn’t taken in your room. It was taken at the hospital.’ He sounded even more panicked now, his voice lowering, like he was talking to himself. ‘I didn’t see the tubes before. She’s in the hospital, hooked up to machines.’ His voice grew louder, desperate. ‘You didn’t send this picture. Ma really isn’t here, is she?’
‘I told you that, fuckwad. Now leave me alone. I’m going back to sleep.’ Gage leaned on the door, but stumbled back when it flew open abruptly.
Denny charged in, his shoulder down like a football player, knocking Gage across the room. Jasmine quickly dragged Janie under the bed to get out of his way.
This is it! We have to run – now! She shook Janie’s shoulder. ‘Wake up!’ she whispered. ‘Janie, wake up.’
‘She’s not here!’ Denny cried, and the bed bowed down as he and Gage fell on it.
‘What the fuck, Denny?’ Gage sputtered. ‘Dammit, you’re hurting me.’
‘I’ll do worse, you sorry sonofabitch. She’s not here because she’s in the fucking hospital.’
‘Let go of me.’ There was the crack of a fist hitting bone, and the bed dipped again. They were rolling around up there. Fighting. And not paying attention to her and Janie. ‘Denny . . .’ Gage’s voice was rough and all gaggy, like he was being choked.
This may be our only chance. She shook Janie’s shoulder again, harder. ‘Wake up,’ she begged. ‘Please.’
‘I ought to fucking kill you,’ Denny gritted out. ‘Ma’s in the hospital with an IV in her arm. I didn’t see it in the picture before, but now I do. It’s there. What did you do to her?’
‘I gave her a little something to make her sleep,’ Gage said hoarsely. ‘That’s all.’
The bed rattled and the choking sounds got louder. ‘You gave her a sedative? Then left her in the park . . . alone? In this heat?’ Denny roared like a lion. ‘You moron. She’s got fucking Parkinson’s. You put her in the hospital! Look!’
Another pause. ‘Where did you get this picture?’ Gage asked, suddenly sounding a lot more sober.
Run. Run. Carry Janie if you have to. Jasmine edged out from under the bed, dragging Janie with her. Her sister’s eyelids fluttered open and Jasmine pressed her finger to her lips, trembling with relief. ‘Quiet,’ she mouthed, and Janie nodded, still groggy.
At least I don’t have to carry her now. Jasmine hadn’t been sure how she’d have managed that. Janie was really heavy for a little kid.
‘You texted it to me,’ Denny yelled. ‘Are you that damn drunk that you don’t remember?’
‘Are you that damn stupid? You’ve been played. You moron.’ The bed began to shake again and Jasmine could see their feet change position as they rolled. Gage had control now, and she flinched at the sound of more punching and Denny’s grunts of pain. ‘The cops tricked you. They faked my number to get you to come here.’
‘No. It’s not possible. Nobody followed me. I was careful.’ Denny sounded terrified.
‘What you are is a fuckup, and I’ll be goddamned if you take me down with you.’
A sharp click followed, and Denny started to babble. ‘Gage, no! No! Put the gun down. Please. Think about this. I helped you. I helped you.’
That’s it. We have to go. Jasmine grabbed Janie’s hand and pointed at the door. ‘Run fast,’ she mouthed. ‘Don’t stop.’ She drew a breath, said a prayer, then leapt up and ran.
The door was still open a little. As she dragged Janie through, she could hear Denny begging.<
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‘I won’t talk, Gage. I promise. I wouldn’t, because I’d go to jail too. Just let me up. We’ll get away. I’ll help you get away.’
‘No,’ Gage said. ‘I’ve got leverage. You’re a liability, Denny. Sorry.’
Leverage? Halfway down the stairs, Jasmine froze, her hand clutching the banister. That’s us. We’re the leverage. But they weren’t in the room anymore. He’ll be mad. So mad. And Jasmine knew what he could do when he was mad. ‘Hurry, Janie,’ she urged, half lifting her sister so that they could run down the remaining stairs.
He’d discover they were gone any minute. Think, think. He would catch them. He was faster. He was coming down the stairs. She looked right, then left. Two doors. Front and back. Trick him and hide. The front door was closer. He’d think they’d gone that way. She grabbed one of her shoes and threw it toward the front door, then dragged Janie to the back. Where’s the door to outside? Where’s the—
It was in the laundry room. The handle turned, and Jasmine could feel the heat of the outside on her face. It was dark when they burst through the door.
If the police had followed Denny, they were here somewhere. She had to find them. I should have gone out the front. They’re probably there. At least that was where they waited on TV. She and Janie were standing in the middle of a long line of houses. Row houses, all connected. No alleys to cut through to get to the street. I should have gone out the front. Now they had to run all the way to the end. Which way should they go? Which way?
She picked the right and started to run, dragging Janie, but the sound of gunshots made her stumble, her feet freezing in place. Two gunshots.
Janie tugged her shirt. ‘Jazzie? What was that?’
‘He shot Uncle Denny,’ Jasmine whispered, jolted out of her shock. That Denny had shot Gage was too much to hope for.
‘Daddy?’ Janie asked, confused. ‘Daddy shot Uncle Denny?’
Not our daddy. But she’d deal with that later. ‘Run, Janie. Fast as you can.’ Forcing her feet to move, she ran, dragging Janie with her.
Baltimore, Maryland,
Sunday 23 August, 10.03 P.M.
‘He’s been in there for three minutes,’ Joseph said over the radio. ‘Probably long enough to know his mother isn’t there. I’m going in. JD, you take—’ Two sharp cracks in rapid succession interrupted him.
Taylor flinched. Oh God. Somebody was shooting. And the girls . . . She’d been praying they were in there. Now she was praying they weren’t. That they were okay. Still alive.
‘Shit,’ Joseph spat. ‘Shots fired. Hector, call for backup, and then the two of you get up here. Leave the van where it is. Ford, do not leave the vehicle. JD, let’s go.’
Taylor stared at the TV monitor in horror as Detective Rivera and Agent Novak followed Joseph’s orders, leaving her alone with Ford. ‘How many shots?’ she asked hoarsely.
‘Sounded like two,’ Ford said, his jaw set. ‘Doesn’t mean Gage shot the kids, Taylor.’
‘I know. He may have shot Denny.’ She couldn’t rip her eyes from the screen. ‘If Denny’s dead, we led him into the trap. His blood’s on our hands, Ford.’
‘Denny knew who he was dealing with,’ Ford said stubbornly. ‘He knew what Gage did and he protected him. Hell, Denny may have fired the shots himself. It could be Gage that’s down. You don’t know. But whatever happens, Denny knew the score going in.’
‘True,’ she murmured, hoping that someday she’d believe it.
She watched Joseph and Rivera enter the front of the building while Fitzpatrick and Novak circled around to the back. It was a long row of houses and the one Denny had entered was towards the middle, so Novak and Fitzpatrick had to run up one side and down the rear. Hurry. Hurry, dammit.
Her thumb suddenly burned and she realized she’d bitten the nail past the quick. She folded her hands in her lap and returned her gaze to the monitor. The view of the house was static. Nothing happening, no movement.
But on the other side of the split screen . . . What the hell? She stood up and leaned close to the monitor, not believing her own eyes. ‘Ford, look.’ She pointed at the edge of the building nearest them, where two small figures had appeared, running as fast as they could.
It was Jazzie, dragging Janie behind her.
‘Oh my God,’ Ford whispered, horrified. On his next breath he was moving, yanking the van’s side door open. He shoved his phone at Taylor. ‘Call Deacon. Tell him to hurry.’ Then he was out of the van, running toward the children. ‘He’s on my favorites,’ he called over his shoulder.
Taylor fumbled the phone, her hands shaking. She’d just found Novak’s name when another person rounded the corner. Big, male and carrying a gun, which he pointed at the two girls.
Oh God. Novak wasn’t going to be able to get there in time. She was out of the van and running after Ford before she’d consciously made the decision.
‘Jazzie!’ Taylor shouted. ‘This way!’
The expression of relief on Jazzie’s face would go a long way to erasing the memory of Gage’s scream when Taylor had fired that afternoon – and any residual guilt that came with it. Jazzie made a sharp turn and Janie stumbled, pulling her sister down with her.
‘Miss T-Taylor!’ Jazzie cried. ‘H-help us, p-please!’ Falling to her knees, she looked over her shoulder in a panic, then scrabbled back to her feet and started running again, never releasing her sister’s hand. ‘He’s chasing us! He has a gun! He’s coming!’
Turning on the speed, Ford reached the girls and grabbed them, one under each arm. ‘Follow me,’ he shouted to Taylor, ‘and be ready to pull those doors closed.’
Or this will all be for nothing, because Gage will kill us all.
Taylor ran after Ford, but even with his wounded leg he was faster, his stride longer, and he had the girls in the back of the van more quickly than she could close the distance between them.
Only a few more . . . Pain exploded in her thigh and she cried out, her voice tinny and shrill to her own ears. He’d shot her. Just like he’d shot Clay. Gage went for the legs, not the Kevlar. Should have remembered that.
She half hopped, half dragged herself toward the van, frowning when something large sailed past her, roaring with rage. She turned her head just in time to see Ford tackle Gage to the ground, grabbing him by both wrists. ‘You motherfucking bastard,’ Ford snarled. ‘You think you get to hurt whoever the fuck you want?’ Using the tactical helmet he still wore, he head-butted Gage hard enough to make the older man grunt with pain.
Good, Taylor thought. Hope it hurts, asshole.
Ford was squeezing Gage’s wrist, trying to get him to drop the gun, but Gage was surprisingly strong for a man who’d been shot in the shoulder. For a few seconds Taylor watched through bleary eyes, trying to think through the pain to figure out what she was supposed to be doing. Oh yeah. Help Ford.
She dragged herself over to the two men and dropped to her knees, gouging the knee she could actually control into Gage’s gun hand. Wrenching the weapon from his grip, she rolled away, coming up on the good knee to point the gun at his head.
‘I will end you,’ she told him quietly. ‘And you know I can shoot.’
Gage turned his head, his eyes cold and full of hate. ‘You cunt,’ he spat.
Ford head-butted him again, harder this time, the dull thud of helmet against skull audible. ‘Call her that name one more time and I’ll let her shoot your miserable head off. Shut your fucking mouth, Jarvis. You’re done.’
That last blow to the head appeared to have knocked Jarvis out, but because the man was a snake, Taylor didn’t take her eyes off him. So she heard Novak coming around the corner before she saw him.
‘What the ever-loving hell?’ Novak shouted. ‘You were supposed to stay put!’
Ford rolled off Gage and rose stiffly, pointing at the open van
where the two girls huddled, sobbing as they clutched each other. ‘You weren’t here,’ he said with a shrug. ‘He was seconds away from getting them.’
‘We’re not sorry, either.’ Taylor gritted her teeth against the waves of nausea rolling through her. The gun was shaking. No, that’s you, Taylor. ‘But I would appreciate someone taking over covering him, because I think I’m going to throw up.’
Ford took the gun from her hands while Novak cuffed Gage and bound his feet with a zip-tie, neither done too gently. Ford lowered her to the ground and ripped at the bullet hole in the borrowed scrubs she wore until he could see the wound. ‘She needs an ambulance,’ he told Novak tersely, his hands shaking. ‘Are you hurt anywhere else?’ he asked her.
She swallowed hard. Do not throw up. Not on Ford. Because that would be . . . awkward. The absurdity of the thought made her laugh, which told her that she was closer to going into shock than she’d thought. ‘No. He’s a creature of habit. Got me in the leg, just like Clay.’
‘Well, you’re not gushing a bloody geyser like Clay was,’ Ford said, relieved.
‘I didn’t think so.’ She gripped his shoulder and tried to stand. ‘Help me to the van, please,’ she said, then sucked in a startled breath when he lifted her in his arms and carried her, just like in the movies. She slid her arm around his neck, holding on for the ride, which was a little bumpy because he was limping. ‘Remind yourself to do this again when I’m not about to hurl, okay? Because it’s pretty damn impressive, I gotta say.’
He chuckled, his breath warm on her ear. ‘Yes, ma’am.’ He deposited her carefully on the floor of the van. ‘I’m going to get the first-aid kit. I’ll be back.’
She threw him a grateful look, then held out her arms for the two girls, who threw themselves against her, both still sobbing. ‘Hey,’ Taylor said softly, hugging them tightly. ‘It’s all over now. You guys are safe.’
‘He shot Uncle Denny,’ Janie wailed.
Taylor looked up at Novak, her brows raised in question.