by David Gane
chapter 134
The rocking chair has caught fire and the flames promptly spread up the wall. We need to get out of here quickly.
“Why couldn’t you boys have just stayed in your rooms?” Spencer shouts.
“Get off him,” I growl, and he pulls himself off Charlie, rising slowly.
“I knew you were persistent, but I didn’t expect you to be this much trouble.”
I ignore him and focus on my friend. “Charlie? You okay?”
He’s moving but slowly, trying to clear his vision.
“What are you going to do, Anthony?” Spencer asks, edging this way, though his hands remain raised in surrender. “Are you going to shoot me? Eye for an eye for Mike?”
“Shut up!” I yell.
The fire climbs the wall; flames lick at the ceiling.
“Charlie, you need to get up now,” I say, not taking my eyes off Spencer.
“That was a nice touch, calling me about Maggie,” he says, and the fact that his tone is so … so normal creeps me right out. “Very caring,” he adds with a sneer as he inches closer.
I have a clear shot. My finger is on the trigger. One squeeze would bring him down. But fear grips me.
There are only two moments: this moment and the moment after I pull the trigger. Am I ready to take a life?
Spencer sees the hesitation and rushes at me, but my game instincts kick in and I deke to the right. He stumbles and falls into the hallway.
“Charlie!” I yell, turning to my friend for a split-second.
Spencer recovers more quickly than I thought possible, and he sucker punches me in the kidney. I buckle to the floor.
He’s on me at once, going for the gun, but I tighten my grip. He fights to loosen my hold, but I’ve got the advantage of both arm length and strength, and he can’t get it away from me. But neither can I do much except hold on, he’s gripping the barrel so tightly.
He starts twisting it in my hand, and I think he’s trying to wrench it from my grasp, but then I realize he’s trying to turn it on me instead.
I counter, trying to aim it anywhere else.
He forces a finger between mine and the trigger guard—
Bang!
It’s a deafening sound and the pistol nearly shakes free of my sweaty palm. I’m breathless but feel no searing pain. I’m sure it hasn’t hit me, but I’m not positive about him—
Bang!
The gun fires again, and other than the ringing in my ears, neither of us seems affected. As long as I keep out of range, I have no problem emptying the chamber this way. It’ll be one less thing to worry about.
Spencer tries to force me onto my back. He’s built solid like Charlie, but I spread myself out, making it harder for him to flip me over. He slams a knee into the side where he punched me, over and over, and I crumple up tight.
It’s enough.
Now he’s on top, still grabbing at the pistol, bringing it up between our chests, using all his weight and strength against me. But I’ve got the floor to push against—as long as he doesn’t pin my arms, I might still hold him off. I struggle hard to get the gun out of the tight space between our bodies, certain he’ll headbutt me if I don’t do something to stop him. My strength is wearing thin … I won’t be able to keep this standoff going much longer—
That’s when I see Charlie rise up behind Spencer, tree branch in hand, and he has time to aim carefully and take a full swing.
The club catches Spencer in the ribs, but he doesn’t loosen his grip. Still, he’s weakened enough that I can pull the gun away completely.
Charlie yanks him off me. “I knew those golf lessons would come in handy,” Charlie says as he helps pull me up.
We turn on Spencer together, Charlie holding the stick, me holding the gun. I feel pretty good about our odds.
But he’s not scared. At all. His hands are out, half in defense, half in preparation to attack, always advancing, looking for an opportunity to strike.
“You’re just a couple of dumb kids who’ve let your friends get stabbed and murdered, and ruined the lives of those around you with your stupid actions.”
“So why come after us, then?” I spit at him. “Why kill Mike—?”
“Dammit!” Charlie exclaims, realizing. “He did it for love.”
I look from Charlie to Spencer, trying to follow. “Wait. You blame us for Gekas?”
“She was strong and capable before the two of you came into her life. You nearly got her killed!”
I shake my head. “But why Harriet, then?” I ask.
It’s only a flash across his face, but it tells me enough.
“Shit, Charlie, this has nothing to do with love,” I say. “This is all about revenge!”
Spencer lunges, and Charlie swings the stick, pushing him back into the thickening swirl of smoke.
“We need to get out of here,” I say, tugging Charlie by the shoulder, keeping the gun trained on Spencer.
“What are we going to do with him?”
A voice behind me speaks. “Let me take care of him.”
I turn to see Gekas amid the flames and smoke in the dining room, service revolver drawn.
chapter 135
We only have a minute or two before this whole place goes up.
“We have to get out,” I yell.
“You two go,” she says calmly, though I can see the raging tempest building inside. “I think he and I are going to stay here a moment.”
“Maggie—” Spencer says, but she cuts him off.
“You don’t get to use my name anymore.”
“But this is all for you!”
“No,” she shakes her head slowly. “None of this is on me. You chose—”
“For you. To make you strong again.”
“This has nothing to do with me!”
The heat of the fire is unbearable, the flames have spread to the far side of the dining room. Soon there won’t be a way out.
“Detective, we have to go, now!”
“No!” Her storm breaks and tears stream down her face. “Why should he get to live?”
I’ve never seen Gekas so exposed, so raw. It frightens me.
“Did he give anyone else a chance? The people he killed? The families he hurt? How about what he was going to do to you two?”
She’s ready to kill him, to let him die here, and she doesn’t want us to see it.
But I can’t give her that permission.
I step up to her, and reach out a hand, setting it gently on her forearm. “No, Detective. We both know this isn’t the way.”
I can feel her whole body shake under my touch. I know how close she is to pulling the trigger.
“Detective? We’ve stopped him. He can’t hurt anyone anymore.”
She tenses and looks at me, and I can see all the pain and sorrow in her eyes—then she finally breathes and lowers her gun.
chapter 136
We have little time left.
“There’s someone still upstairs. Charlie, you good?” I ask.
After the pounding Spencer gave him, he’s still shaking out some of the cobwebs. But he’s on his feet and running on adrenaline. “Good enough,” he says.
Gekas wants to argue, but I’m not having it. I rush for the stairs and Charlie’s close behind.
I take a quick breath as I reach the top, and hope it lasts long enough for me to find Harriet. The smoke hangs low and stings my eyes.
I’m going by instinct, and head to the end of the hall, checking the door first—it’s cool enough, I think—before Charlie drives his heel into the wood by the knob, shattering it.
We’re hit by a roomful of smoke that immediately worms its way into my nostrils. Only by squinting can I make out the blurry vision of a body on the floor. Lungs bursting, we rush over to him. I bar
ely register the sledgehammer and the busted rubble of a chimney beside him.
I get between Harriet’s legs as Charlie grabs him by the shoulders. Together, we hoist his limp body and move out the door. The hallway is already thick and sooty, and we can no longer see at all, stumbling down the hall, and bouncing off walls.
I’m dizzy and my lungs can no longer wait. I exhale in an explosion and my body fights for more oxygen. I’m running on empty as we reach the top of the stairs, and I inhale against my will, smoke searing my throat and lungs.
By the time we’re back on the main floor, the living room is an inferno; the heat singes our hair and clothes, but I barely notice. I stumble and drop Harriet’s legs, but Charlie keeps dragging him down the hallway.
“Shepherd, come on!” Charlie calls out, and I pick myself up and follow them into the kitchen. Charlie throws his body against the back door, and the three of us tumble into the cool spring air.
chapter 137
I grab Harriet’s legs again and we stagger out past Spencer’s car, getting as far as we can from the burning building before collapsing into a heap.
My eyes and throat feel like they’re on fire and I’m retching out black, tarry spit, but my brain is crying out to help Harriet. I roll him over, struggling to see if he’s alive—struggling to see anything in the bright sunlight—but everything’s a messy blur, and I can’t breathe without hacking up a lung.
It isn’t until I feel Gekas’s hand on my shoulder that I know she’s beside me, helping.
“Where’s Spencer?” I stammer.
“In my car, not going anywhere.”
I give her an uncertain look.
“Don’t worry. He’s alive.” She puts a bottle of water in my hand. “Drink.”
I take a swig, and it tastes sooty and brackish and I cough it up. I have to rinse and spit before I can finally take a long swallow, and the cool water feels good in my throat. I pour some on my face, washing my eyes until the stinging fades a bit.
Gekas works on Harriet, cutting away his shirt and attaching an AED she must have brought from her car. She yells, “Clear,” and while the machine analyzes Harriet’s state, she radios dispatch from a walkie-talkie and updates them on the situation.
Charlie’s beside me, cleaning his eyes with another bottle of water, and it’s only now that I can fully see how much of a beating Spencer gave him. His face is swollen and bloody, and I’m impressed he was even able to rally enough to stand, let alone help get Harriet out of there.
The machine says, “Shock advised,” in a cold electronic voice, and Harriet jolts as Gekas pushes the button. He’s still not breathing, so she starts chest compressions.
Watching Gekas at work is impressive. Whatever she felt earlier in the house, it’s gone. She’s in the moment, handling the situation, and I have nothing but respect for her.
She checks Harriet’s heart rhythm then moves onto CPR. She delivers two quick breaths and his chest rises, then she starts compressions again.
All at once, Harriet coughs violently, his whole body fighting to breathe on its own, and he’s suddenly aggressive, arms swing wildly.
Gekas holds him back, protecting herself and him, all the while speaking calmly. “EMS is on the way. You’re going to be okay.”
As soon as he settles, she drops, the energy drained from her.
“I think this is yours,” I say, pulling her badge out of my front pocket and tossing it to her.
“I figured that son of a bitch had it.” She glares toward her car where Spencer waits in the backseat. “Used it as bait, hoping you two would be foolish enough to come looking for me.”
Her words hurt, but she’s likely just dumping on us to cover the real pain. “Detective, are you okay?” I ask.
“No. Not yet,” she says, her voice cracking. “But maybe one day.”
chapter 138
It doesn’t take long for police and emergency personnel to arrive. Police cars and firetrucks pull up the driveway, and an air ambulance touches down in a corner of the yard. It’s already too late to save most of the house. I’m not surprised to see my parents arrive in a police car while Charlie and I are being treated for our wounds and smoke inhalation.
I can see they’re pissed—why wouldn’t they be—but surprisingly Gekas cuts them off on their way to us.
Charlie gestures to where they’re talking and grins. “You’re never going to see the light of day again, Shepherd.”
“Probably not.”
Neither of us is ready to face the fact that he’s going to be booted from our home as well. We look at the huddle of cops around Gekas’s car.
“So he did all this because he hated his brother,” Charlie says to me, and it’s like he can’t quite believe it.
“When we were inside, Harriet told me his brother accused him of desire, temptation—”
“You didn’t see that room in the basement,” Charlie puts in. “He’d been killing for a while. I think he was just looking for a direction.”
“So he projected all his weaknesses and insecurities onto his brother? Onto Gekas?”
Charlie nods. “Everyone who crossed his path was a potential victim.”
“Even Mike?”
“Like I said before, Shepherd, it’s not your fault. You can’t be responsible for the actions of someone like Spencer.”
I look over at Gekas and my folks. “How did she find us? How did she know where we were?”
Charlie shows me his phone. On it is a single message to my dad: a picture of the road map that he took when the service was spotty.
“You sent it to them?”
“Normally, I don’t worry about myself, but your parents would never forgive me if I let something happen to you,” he says with a wink.
I still can’t get used to this new version of Charlie. What a difference two years, a couple of near-death experiences, and too much time spent with my parents can do to a guy.
“Why didn’t you just tell me you were worried?” I ask.
“Hey,” he shrugs. “Just because I’m worried about a situation doesn’t mean I don’t think we should do the right thing. No such thing as an innocent bystander, Shepherd.”
“You really believe that, don’t you?” I say.
“Always.”
I never doubted otherwise.
chapter 139
The ride home is long and quiet. Not even Charlie is willing to speak, and I’m glad my smoke-damaged throat buys me a bit of time to think. When we pull up to the house, we all climb out of the car and walk in. No one suggests it, but we all go into the kitchen. Charlie puts the kettle on, Dad pulls out cups, and Mom grabs the collection of tea bags.
My throat is tight, but I can’t wait. “I’m not going to say sorry—”
“Anthony—” Mom warns.
“No,” I say, unable to believe it comes out of my mouth. “You can punish me all you want, but I want to have my say.”
Mom looks pissed, but Dad lays his hand on hers. She doesn’t say another word, but she takes hold of his fingers in a white-knuckled fist.
All eyes are on me. Better make this quick.
“This is my fault. This has nothing to do with Charlie. He did the right thing. He let you know where we were. He was the voice of reason. Don’t punish him for my mistakes. I made every choice. I take responsibility for it all.”
I pause, thinking through my next words. “I thought we were helping Gekas, but I was wrong. And my actions might have killed Mike.”
Charlie starts to argue, but I ignore him, the pain of my words bubbling in my throat and stinging my eyes like no smoke ever could.
“But I don’t take back what I did. That man was a monster and he wouldn’t have stopped until he was caught. And Charlie and I did that.”
I take a big breath. “So much of what we thought a
nd did was wrong. I put my life and other people’s lives at risk. But we also found Spencer, and stopped him and saved Mr. Harriet, and what we did was right. I know it. I feel it in my gut.”
I look my parents in the eye. “I’m always going to do what I believe is right. Nothing you’re going to do will stop me from doing that. That’s why I’m going to apply to be a police officer when I’m finished school so at least I can do the right thing the right way.”
Judging by the looks on everyone’s faces, it seems I’m the only one who hadn’t figured out that this was the path I was taking until now.
chapter 140
Even though I meant every word, none of it gets us completely off the hook. I guess angry parents will always beat great speeches.
But Mom and Dad surprise us.
“As long as you live in our house, you need to follow our rules,” Mom starts out. “However, we also can’t keep treating you like teenagers. You’ll soon be eighteen and on your own. You’ll have to make your own choices. So, tell us, what do you think a just punishment would be?”
I don’t say anything, unsure how best to proceed, but Charlie sits up straighter. “I say ground us until the end of the school year.”
“Charlie!” I yell. He’s totally buried us before we’ve even had a chance to negotiate.
“What?” he shoots me a look. “We disobeyed their rules. We snuck out of the house, took the car without their permission, and went into a serial killer’s house.”
“We didn’t know he’d be there!”
“Oh, we knew,” he says smugly.
“So what’s that mean? Straight home after school?” Dad asks.
“Definitely no weekends out—”
“Charlie!”
He ignores me. “Give us extracurricular chores, walking the dog, doing homework, and working at our jobs. Deal?”
Mom and Dad stare at us.
There’s not much I can say at this point, so I toss up my hands. “Fine.” I look over at him. “You actually wanted this, didn’t you?”
He raises an eyebrow. “It’s good to have some discipline.”