Everything to Lose

by Danielle Girard

  She took another step forward.

  “I swear to God, lady. Don’t take one more step or I’m gonna waste you.”

  She halted. Hands raised. “Z, are you hurt?” She squinted at the two figures in center field.

  So far away.

  She could shoot at the boy, but she couldn’t be sure she’d hit him. He held a gun pointed at Z who sat on the ground, feet in front of him. If he wanted Z dead, there was nothing she could do.

  Z’s upper body was bent over to his knees, his left hand gripping the opposite shoulder. “Z, where are you hit? How bad is it?”

  Z rocked forward and back. “It hurts like hell, Jamie.”

  “Is it your shoulder, Z?”

  “Yes.” The answer came through gritted teeth.

  “On the arm or closer to your chest?”

  “It all hurts.”

  “You have to let me see him,” she said, taking another step forward. “You want to shoot someone, you can shoot me.”

  “Jamie, no!” Z shouted. “Leave her alone, Jacob. She didn’t do shit to you.”

  The boy, Jacob, looked between them, unsure what to do. His features were similar to Z’s. His hair was longer. He wore a black DC baseball cap and long basketball shorts. A hoodie, where one hand was tucked. The other held a gun. She considered whether there was something else in his pocket. Shoes with no laces would make it hard to run away. She wished he’d run but knew he wouldn’t. Kids like this didn’t run. He would hold his ground. She studied his gun. Might have been a Springfield. Some of those held nineteen rounds. Illegal in California, but that didn’t stop them from showing up.

  She took a step forward, then another. Jacob was watching Z.

  “Jacob,” she said softly.

  “Stay away,” Jacob shouted, waving his gun at her. “This is between me and him.”

  “I have to be sure he’s okay,” she said. “You don’t want him to die. I know you don’t. He’s your family, right?”

  “Damn it, Z,” Jacob shouted. “Why you gotta be so mouthy?”

  “He didn’t tell me,” Jamie said. “But you two look alike, you know?”

  “No, we don’t,” Jacob said. “My cousin looks like one of them.” He waved his gun in a circle. “Uniform with his name on it and shit. Here he is at this fancy school, in his fancy baseball uniform. Like some rich kid and shit.”

  His cousin. Their similarities were undeniable. Looking into the other boy’s face was like staring at an angry, scared Zephenaya.

  “You do. You have the same eyes,” she said, although she wasn’t sure if that was what was so similar. “Your voices, too. Michael Delman was your uncle.”

  The boy stared at his cousin. “Shit.”

  “Z had your mitt? I found it in his bat bag.”

  “Wasn’t mine,” Jacob said. “Belonged to one of those rich white kids. I took it.”

  Z rolled onto his side. “But you gave it back, Jake. That counts for something.”

  “Yeah. I gave it back all covered in blood. Christ.” Jacob wiped his face.

  Jamie inched forward.

  Z moaned. “It really hurts, Jake.”

  “You ain’t gonna die,” Jacob shouted. “That bullet barely hit your sorry ass. I been shot through the gut and I didn’t die.”

  “I’m going to check him,” she said. “We need to get him to a hospital.”

  He turned his gun on her. “No. He ain’t going nowhere and you ain’t getting one step closer.”

  “Jacob, man. It hurts.”

  “You don’t know shit about pain, Z. Where you been the last five years? I been living in that shit hole. I been shot. I been beat to shit. My mom kicked me outta the house like four, five times. I spent four weeks on the street, man, when your dad wouldn’t take me in neither. Said I was a punk. I almost shot some poor fool just to get me a warm bed.” He lifted his face to the sky. “And you? You been at this fucking school, gone all white and shit.”

  “Jacob, I can help you,” she said, easing closer. “If you let me.”

  Jacob narrowed his gaze at her. “What are you going to do, lady? Adopt me too?”

  “If that’s the best thing,” she said.

  “What the fuck? You walk into the poor neighborhoods, adopting up the sorriest looking kids?”

  “No,” she said carefully. “Not normally. Z ended up coming to me, but I’m glad he did. I’m glad I can help him. He’s very important to me. I’d like to help you, too.”

  “Jacob, she’s not lying,” Z said.

  Distract and move in, that was her plan. “Can you tell me what you saw? When Charlotte fell?”

  “Fall my ass. Someone threw her down those stairs,” Jacob said.

  “Did you see anyone?”

  “No. I didn’t see shit. I’m walking in front of her. It’s dark. I hear something and look back and wham, I’m slammed in the head. I went down. Woke up and Charlotte was at the bottom of the stairs. Not moving.” He choked on a sob. “Fuck, I was so scared. I ran and got Mike.”

  “Your uncle.” She moved two steps closer.

  “He wanted to call the police, but I couldn’t,” he said. “I got two strikes and, as a juvie, one more and I’d go away for good. And not to some kiddie place neither.”

  Jamie spoke around the tightness in her throat. “Michael Delman wanted to call the police.”

  “Now, he’s dead.” Jacob looked around, his back and arms tensing.

  “Let me help you,” Jamie said softly.

  “She can help, Jake,” Z said.

  But Jacob was wound up now. He scratched at his neck, leaving bright red lines where his nails scratched into his skin. “Bullshit,” he screamed. The gun quaked in his hand. “I didn’t do nothing. You hear me. Nothing. Only thing I did was fall for her. I let her get in my head, man. But I didn’t come after her. She tracked me down.” He waved his gun at Z. “She came to Z for my digits.”

  “Jacob,” Jamie said. “This doesn’t have to end this way. We know you didn’t hurt Charlotte Borden.”

  “How the hell you know that? Far as the police care, I threw her down them stairs. Ain’t no evidence says I didn’t. You’d all love to send me away for that shit. Three strikes, I be gone for a decade.”

  “I know she loves you,” Jamie said. “Charlotte loves you, Jacob.”

  “Listen to her,” Z said. “She’s not shitting you. Charlotte’s crazy ’bout you, man. She told me herself.”

  Z lied. He knew Charlotte well. Well enough to have that conversation. If he had told her the truth… She stopped herself, focused on Jacob.

  Lips pressed together, he said nothing. Tears streaked his face. He used his free hand to wipe down his face. “Why the hell she pick me, man?”

  “Because you’re a good person, Jacob,” Jamie said. “She knew that. Just like Z knows it. He’s been protecting you.”

  Sirens blared in the distance.

  “The police coming.” Jacob glanced at Z. “Where I go now?”

  “Nowhere,” Jamie said. “You stay and I’ll help you work this out.” She took the final steps to crouch by Z. She touched his shoulder. He grimaced.

  “You,” Jacob shouted.

  Jamie looked up.

  He waved at her. “Uncle Mike got hisself killed on this thing. No way I’m going down like that.” He pointed his gun at her and waved it to get her to move. “You going to help me get outta here.”

  “I’ll help you.”

  “No, bitch,” he shouted. “Not your way. My way. Put your hands up and come here, or I’ll shoot him. I swear I’ll do it.”

  Jamie reached behind her back.

  Jacob took a step forward and aimed at her, his gun maybe six inches from her face. “Let me see that other hand.”

  She pulled the gun out and held it upside down by the stock. “I’m removing my service weapon so no one gets hurt.”

  “Un-fucking-believable. You got a gun.” His own weapon stiffened in his hand. Aimed directly at her head.

>   Jamie exhaled and tossed the weapon across the grass. “I don’t want anyone to get hurt, Jacob.”

  “Bullshit, lady.” He spat as he spoke. “You as full of shit as the rest of them. You can’t never trust a cop.” He aimed his gun toward the ground and pulled the trigger. The low boom of the gun. Then, a searing pain in her shin. Jamie dropped.

  “Jamie,” Z screamed, struggling to sit up.

  “I’m okay,” she said quickly. A quick breath. “Z, lie back down.”

  “What the fuck, Jacob?” Z screamed at his cousin.

  “Shut the fuck up, rich boy!” Jacob shouted. His teeth were bared. “Just SHUT. THE. FUCK. UP.”

  “Z, do it,” she said, shaking. “Lie down. Be quiet.”

  Jamie drew in a couple of tentative breaths, then tried to pull one to the bottom of her lungs. Her leg had a pulse of its own. She reached for it, rolled her pant leg slowly.

  Jacob held his gun aimed at her head. “Now, you get me out of here or I’ll do it again. This time I’ll shoot higher.”

  “It’s okay,” she told him. Her voice was breathy. She glanced down at the wound. Touched her skin. “I’ll get you out of here.”

  She fingered the center of the wound. Not a through and through. Not deep enough to be a bullet hole. Had to be a piece of shrapnel. Ricochet maybe.

  “Let’s go lady. Hurry it up.”

  “She can’t get up,” Z screamed at him. “You shot her.”

  “One more word out of you and I’ll put a bullet in your motherfucking brain.” He shoved his gun down in Z’s face. “You hear me?”

  “It’s okay. I’m getting up,” she said. She used her hands to push herself up onto her good leg.

  Z quieted.

  Standing, she locked her right knee and put a little weight on her left foot to test it. Roaring pain. Her knee threatened to buckle. She reached down, clasping both hands across her knee. Vomit rose in her throat. She swallowed it down. Took a deep breath. Stood up.

  The sirens wailed closer.

  Jacob waved her over with his free hand. She watched his movements; the front pocket of his hoodie appeared empty.

  “Hurry up,” he said.

  She moved toward him. “Okay. Let’s get out of here.”

  The sirens blared one last time then silenced. The police had arrived. Jacob would know it was only a matter of a minute or two before they were surrounded. “We need a way out of this place. Now. You better make that happen, cop lady.”

  Jamie thought about the choir group. “Sure. There’s a back entrance. Leads right into the Presidio.”

  Jacob shoved his gun into her neck. She stumbled forward, weight on her bad leg, and cried out.

  “Jamie!” Z cried out, reaching for her. “Don’t hurt her,” he shouted. He was fighting back tears.

  “It’s okay,” she whispered. But it wasn’t. She had no way out. She scanned the grass behind him. Her gun was too far. Only one thing to do. She took a step toward the far side of the baseball diamond and hoped someone would be out there, waiting for her.

  Chapter 41

  Jamie moved steadily forward in the dark. As much as she could with a gun pressed to the base of her skull and a bullet in her leg. Behind her, Jacob’s breathing was rapid and raspy, like someone suffering from an asthma attack. They exited the baseball diamond on the first base side and were suddenly shrouded in darkness.

  She stumbled once on the uneven grass and caught herself with all her weight on her injured side. She cried out, tears flooding her eyes. Jacob stopped, too, and for a moment, he didn’t push her. She wiped her face with her sleeve and started moving again, all her energy focused on finding level footing.

  She had lied to Jacob. She’d never been to this side of the campus before. She had no idea where it would lead them. But they were moving away from the others and that was good. To their right was the main campus. Lights were on in the math building and in the one beyond where the choir had been practicing. To their left was a standard wire fence, maybe six feet high. Its cheap utilitarian nature was at odds with the school’s penchant for expensive aesthetics, which made her think it was the neighbor’s fence. Beyond it was an expanse of woods. It smelled of the cypress, eucalyptus, and pine trees planted by the army men who lived there a hundred years ago.

  The fence seemed to continue indefinitely. Its presence would make it difficult for the police to come around and overtake Jacob from the forest side. Nothing to do but keep walking. Jacob’s breathing grew raspier, louder. The pain in her leg more acute. More crippling. It became harder to put weight on it.

  As she struggled to keep moving, she prayed that the paramedics had reached Z. “Jacob, I’m not going to make it much farther.”

  “You have to.” The desperation was audible in his voice. “I have to get out of here, okay?” He came around to her left side and wrapped his arm around her. “Lean on me.”

  She put her left arm over his shoulder and let him carry some of her weight. He moved gently, almost tenderly. He’d shot her and now he was holding on to her. Tears streamed down her face as they made their way. She tried to think of some way to change his mind. To make him drop the gun and come in peacefully. He might go to jail, but at least he wouldn’t get shot. “Jacob—” she started when Vich appeared in front of them.

  His gun leveled at Jacob. Jacob pressed his gun into Jamie’s skull and pulled her in front of him again.

  “Jacob, this is my partner, Vich,” she said. “Vich, this is Jacob. He’s Z’s cousin.”

  Vich didn’t take his eyes off Jacob.

  “I want to help him, Vich. He’s a kid.”

  She started to cry. What the hell was wrong with her? Was it that she could feel Z’s presence in the scared, confused boy behind her? That the stroke of luck that brought her son to her was all that had saved him from this same fate? Could anyone really argue that anger was in a child’s nature? Was there really some crime gene? Or did we simply have too many people who had no way out?

  “Let her go, son.”

  “Fuck you,” Jacob replied.

  “One of you is going to tumble down this hill and get hurt.”

  Jamie looked at him. The finger of his left hand pointed to the ground. Then, she saw three fingers.

  He stared straight at Jacob. “You understand me?”

  “Screw you,” Jacob snapped back.

  Jamie understood.

  From the trees came the rustling sounds of others getting into position. There were cops all around them. Jacob tightened his grip.

  “Hold your fire,” Vich shouted out.

  Jacob looked around frantically, yanking her off balance to glance behind them. “I’ll shoot her. I swear, I will.”

  “You don’t have to do this,” Jamie whispered.

  “I got nothing,” Jacob said back. His voice cracked with desperation.

  Jacob shuffled to the side, pulling Jamie along with him.

  Vich merely pivoted to track them with his weapon. There was no way out. All Jacob could do was move a little one way or another. He was surrounded. Holding Jamie at gunpoint wouldn’t prevent a sniper from taking off his head. If she could get away, maybe she could save his life.

  “Jacob, if you let go, you won’t get hurt.”

  Jacob said nothing.

  Vich flashed three fingers on his leg. He was giving her a count. She tensed. She was afraid to leave him. They would shoot.

  “Let them take you in,” she urged. “I’ll talk to the DA. We’ll work something out.”

  “You can’t help me,” he said. “I shot a cop.”

  Vich pressed the three fingers into his leg again.

  Jamie shook her head.

  Vich nodded.

  “I can talk to them, Jacob.”

  Jacob didn’t respond.

  Vich wiggled one of the three fingers. “No one shoots without my go ahead,” he shouted again.

  Then, one finger vanished. Two. She had to go. Jamie stooped slightly to make herself a
s small as possible under Jacob’s hands. Vich flashed one finger. Jamie took a breath and exploded upward, driving the gun’s barrel toward the sky, then dropping like a stone to the ground. Clasping her hands over her face, she rolled. Something hit her shin and she cried out but kept rolling.

  A single gunshot.

  Jacob screamed.

  Jamie stopped herself, scrambling to her feet. Cursing the pain in her leg. Crying outwardly. She was too far down the hill to see Jacob. “Jacob!”

  Vich raised a hand in the air. “Clear.”

  “What did you do?” she screamed, struggling back up the hill on two hands and one leg. “He’s a kid. He’s Z’s cousin.”

  Vich walked to meet her, pulling her up and half carrying her up the last part of the hill.

  Two officers stood over Jacob. One had retrieved Jacob’s weapon and released the magazine, removed the bullet from the chamber. The sight of the 9mm bullet was dizzying. Would he have shot her in the head?

  She pushed the other officer aside. “Let me see him.”

  Looking more like a kid, Jacob was curled on the ground, crying.

  She stooped over, afraid to put her injured leg down on the uneven ground. “Jacob? Are you okay?”

  He shook his head.

  She touched his back and shoulders, put her hands on his head.

  He tried to push her away, but she knocked his hand away. No blood. She couldn’t find any blood. “Where is he hit?”

  “He’s not,” one officer said.

  “I shot the gun out of his hand,” Vich said.

  Department policy. Never shoot to maim. If you have to shoot, shoot to kill. “You broke department policy,” Jamie said, ignoring the voice in her head reminding her of her own recent policy breaches. Big ones.

  “No,” Vich said carefully. “I missed.”

  Jamie stepped back as the officers pulled Jacob to his feet. They cuffed him and led him away. He said nothing, nor did she. Just watched them go. She could think of nothing to tell him and she wouldn’t make any promises. Not now, anyway.