On My Knees: The Complete Series Box Set

by C. J. Thomas

  “So they’ll never find us, huh?” She pushed the flat-screen TV off the dresser in a furious rage. It crashed to the floor, along with two water glasses. I flinched every time, nearly in tears.

  She was totally unhinged.

  Her eyes darted around the room as she tried to think of what to do.

  “It’s too late now, Margo. Just go. Run. They’ll be looking for you, yeah, but they’ll want me, too. Leave me here. If they find me alone and unharmed, they’ll be less likely to go after you.” I was babbling, frantic, panicked.

  “Bullshit.”

  The sound of sirens grew louder. I had to think straight, even over the growing elation in my heart. I wasn’t home free yet. Dan was out there, but I was still tied up with an armed lunatic.

  “I’ll tell them to let you go, then! I swear, I will. No article, nothing. Hell, you don’t even have to be the person who took me. Tell them somebody stole your car! Something!”

  She looked like she might buy it for a moment, then changed her mind. “No way. You still know too much.” She stormed over to me and I flinched away. “Stop being a baby. I swear to God, you’re the worst.”

  Instead of killing me, as I’d assumed she would, she yanked me off the bed and onto my feet. I cried out at the pressure on my aching arms.

  “Would you shut up?” She opened all the curtains until she found the window which led to the fire escape. Turning to me, she said, “Come on. We’re leaving.”

  “What? Down the fire escape? I need you to untie my hands!”

  “Bullshit. You can walk with your hands tied.”

  “I’ll be off-balance!” I sat on the windowsill, gun pointed at my face.

  “You’ll find a way.”

  She pushed me and I fell out the window, hitting the landing with a shattering thud. I thought my shoulder might have gotten dislocated and I howled in pain.

  “Shut up, damn it!” She climbed out after me, hauling me up by my arms.

  I cried out again, sounding like a pitiful wounded puppy even to my own ears. She stood behind me, gun pressed firmly against my back.

  “Go,” she ordered, pushing more gently than before.

  It was still enough to get me moving down the escape—slowly, given my circumstances and the screaming pain shooting through my body. The stairs were steep, as all fire escapes are. I fought to maintain my balance and not go hurtling headlong down the steps.

  “Here.” She took my good arm, pressing the gun against my side, and helped me down.

  Time was of the essence, of course. The cars had to be closing in, more and more by the sounds of it.

  We got to the last landing before Margo saw the error of her plan. A ladder.

  “Fuck!” She looked for a second like she might throw the gun in anger. She looked at me. “You’re a bigger pain in the ass than I thought you were. Come here.” She made short work of my restraints and I nearly wept once my arms were free.

  The only problem was, I could only use one of them. My right arm wouldn’t move much, telling me the shoulder was indeed dislocated.

  “Climb down the ladder,” she ordered, pointing the gun at me.

  I tried to stall as best I could. “I can’t climb down with one arm. You’ll have to leave me here.”

  She cocked the hammer again. “No way. Go. You can do it. Wrap your good arm around the side.” She went down first, showing me, then pointed the gun up at me. “You don’t come, I shoot you dead. I have nothing to lose now.”

  I did the best I could to mimic her climbing, but still cried out when I landed on my stiff legs. I saw an opportunity, falling to the ground like a sack of bricks.

  “Get up! We don’t have much time!” She pulled me by my good arm at least, rough enough to almost dislocate the other shoulder. I yelped but complied. I could only hope I’d bought us enough time.

  “They’ll be in the garage!” I said as we ran.

  “I know. You think I planned to the use the same car? Give me a little credit.” She directed me to a car at the end of the long alley behind the hotel and the rest of the buildings on the block.

  The Toyota I saw that day, on the way from lunch, was parked in plain sight. She was the one following me.

  We ran through stagnant puddles, garbage, what looked like a dead bird or two. The stench was almost too much to bear. All the while, the pressure of a gun in my back was enough to keep my feet moving. I wanted to take off and run the rest of the way to the street, run straight to Dan.

  I couldn’t.

  She’d shoot me.

  I was sure of it—like she’d already said, she had nothing to lose.

  “Get in.” She nearly threw me inside the back seat, my head hitting the opposite door, making me see stars. I was still sore from the hit she gave me the day before, this bump only making everything worse.

  She started the car and peeled away, driving erratically even for an alley.

  I wondered if either of us would make it out alive.

  It sure as hell didn’t seem that way.

  161

  Dan

  THE INSIDE of the hotel was just as bad as the outside. What a pathetic place, somewhere people went to hide from the world.

  The two people I found loitering in the lobby turned tail when they saw Frank and me enter. I guessed they knew cops well enough when they saw them.

  I wasn’t interested in them so I didn’t bother to get their attention. Instead, I turned to the squirrely looking guy behind the front desk. It was more an office, really, with a plexiglass partition reminding me of a doctor’s office. His attention was on a crossword puzzle. Frank rapped on the partition to get his attention. His head snapped up, his eye glassy. Oh, this’ll be great.

  “Tell me which room this woman rented.” I showed Margo’s picture to the clerk who squinted behind thick glasses.

  “I don’t know who that is.” He shrugged, then returned to his crossword puzzle. He looked to be somewhere between forty and death—grizzled, thin, with bags under his eyes and a slight twitch to his limbs. I wondered when he’d last gotten high.

  “Come on, asshole. Tell us what we need to know.” Frank had no problem reaching through the window into the office and pulling the man by the yellowed collar of his tattered t-shirt. “We know she’s here. Her car’s in your garage just under the building. There’s a missing person’s report out on her and the woman she was with yesterday. Tell us what we wanna know unless you want your ass hauled down to the station and booked for obstructing justice.”

  From the way the man shook, I wondered if he hadn’t pissed his pants. He already smelled like it, so there was no way to tell.

  “She’s up-upstairs,” he stuttered, his eyes downcast. “Fourth floor. Four twenty-seven.”

  Frank let him go. I ran upstairs to find Julia.

  “I’m going back out to see if she already left,” Frank called, going back outside. I hardly registered his words. I could only think about Julia.

  Gun drawn, I kicked down the door to the room at the end of the dim, narrow hall. What a depressing place. The door swung open, revealing an empty room the size of my closet.

  “Fuck!” How far ahead of us were they?

  The window was open.

  I ran to it, sticking my head out to look up and down the rancid alley below.

  The fire escape.

  Of course she had. But how would she get away without going to the garage?

  I saw a car speeding by beneath me, looking just in time to catch the color of the driver’s hair. Bright red. I slammed my hands on the sill. “Shit!” I had just missed them.

  I took off running down the hall, back down the stairs. Frank’s voice sounded out over my radio. “I just saw Margo haulin’ ass out the alley! I’m gonna follow her!”

  “Was she alone in the car?” I asked, reaching the lobby.

  “No. There’s somebody in the back seat.”

  “Julia.” My heart leaped. She was still alive. I darted to my car, throwin
g it into drive before the door was fully closed. I turned on the siren, praying the traffic would lighten up for once and be on my side.

  It didn’t. Fuck. Typical LA. Then I realized this worked in our favor.

  The siren would get everybody out of my way, but not out of hers. I felt almost triumphant when I announced it into the radio. Other voices answered.

  “She’s got a head start on us. Heading south on Alameda.”

  South—the direction of the 105. She wanted an interstate. We had to catch her before then.

  “We’ve gotta head her off there. I need a car at exit ten.” It was the closest one to Alameda. I decided to screw Alameda and head down Compton to Imperial. I hoped to cut her off there.

  “Shit! She just took a sharp right onto 103rd!”

  “She wants the One-Ten!” She was serious, then, hoping we would lose her there.

  “It’s too jammed on 103rd. She’ll never get far!”

  “She’s weaving in and out of traffic like she doesn’t give a shit!”

  “That’s because she doesn’t!” I screamed, racing down Compton, then right on 92nd.

  Cars made room for me, thank God, when I leaned on the horn along with sounding the siren. I flew down the street, hoping I could cut her off.

  “The closest entry ramp is on Century. She has to go north to get there. Shit. We have to catch her by Broadway.” After that, she’d be clear to get on the Harbor Freeway. I hated to think of a chase there. Regular streets were dangerous enough.

  “Shit! She just blew through the red at Wilmington and cut right! Caused a three-car crash! And she made it through. Unbelievable.”

  I punched the steering wheel when I heard. Damn her for being so reckless. The next light she decided to run could be the wrong light.

  Just like I’d predicted, too, she was heading for the freeway. A left on Century and it would be a straight shot.

  My heart raced the faster I went. Julia, Julia, Julia. She was all I could think about. “Remember, she’s not alone in the car! Refrain from shooting! I repeat, refrain from firing shots.”

  “It’s believed she’s armed, Pierce. We found an empty box of shells in her glove box in the garage.”

  “Shit!” I wanted to throw my radio out the window. This would all be for nothing if I lost Julia.

  At the jog on 92nd, my tires squealed. A sharp left, then a right through the light had my heart racing as I avoided all the other cars. I caught sight of drivers staring at me, wide-eyed.

  Horns sounded and drivers screamed at me, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was catching her before it was too late.

  I hated to think of Julia even being in the chase. I imagined Margo going out of control, hitting another car. Speeding through an intersection, getting T-boned. Slamming into a wall. All the work to get Julia back safely, for her to die in a car.

  No way I was going to let it happen if I could help it.

  “She’s caught up in a snarl at Central. We’re trying to get through, now.”

  Another car. “I’m going north on Central. I might be able to reach her before it clears.”

  I waited with bated breath, still fighting my way through traffic of my own. I was just about to reach San Pedro. I was closer to Broadway than she was. I had to head south from there, but with the siren on my side I hoped I could catch her at Broadway and Century, only a block from the freeway. That would be the end of the line for her, either way.

  “Damn! She slipped by!” I let out a string of curses. Who was this woman and why was she so good at slipping through our fingers?

  “Did you see Julia Mabel? Is she in the back seat?” I asked.

  “I saw somebody. A woman. Sitting up, looking out the window.” Oh, thank God. Just a little more, baby. Hang in there a little while longer. We’ll get you.

  My tires squealed again as I turned left to go south on Broadway. In the first turn of luck since finding where Margo was hiding Julia, traffic actually pulled to the side when they heard my siren and I could fly down the street.

  I parked in the middle of the intersection at Broadway and Century, confident that Margo hadn’t made it there yet. Drivers screamed, sounded their horns. I ran out into the middle of it, waving them off, badge in hand. Enough of them got the message, moving to the side or turning right or left to avoid being in the way. Their agendas could not possibly be as important as mine. I was saving the woman I loved.

  Another half-dozen cars joined me, lights and sirens going, forming a sort of wall to prevent Margo from getting through.

  Frank arrived, parking behind my car, leaping out with his gun drawn. He stood beside me.

  By this time, civilian drivers were ditching their cars, ducking for cover in the restaurants and other businesses nearby. They knew something big was about to go down. We blocked traffic in every direction, waiting for Margo to come through.

  “Come on,” I muttered, waiting. “See if you can drive your way out of this.” I watched, gun drawn, as the white Toyota approached from two blocks away.

  162

  Julia

  “YOU CAN’T GET AWAY with this!” I screamed as the car seemed to explode from the alley in a flurry of squealing tires and the smell of burning rubber. “It’s not going to work!”

  “Shut your stupid mouth unless you want me to throw you out of this car!”

  I thought my chances might be better if she threw me out, though how she thought she could do that without stopping the car, I had no idea. I’d already tried the doors, anyway, but she controlled the locks from the driver’s door panel.

  Crap.

  “Please, Margo! You have to think rationally about this, okay? It’s not going to work. They can get through traffic! You can’t!”

  “Oh, yeah? Watch me.” She floored it, leaning on the horn. It was enough to scare a handful of cars out of the way, then we had fairly smooth sailing until we reached Alameda.

  That was when all hell broke loose.

  Police cars seemed to appear out of nowhere, from all directions. Margo let out a squeal of mixed surprise and rage.

  My heart soared—I knew they’d stop her. I just didn’t know whether she would let me live through it. I buckled myself in, just to be on the safe side, fumbling with the lock since I could only use my left arm.

  “What the hell are they doing?” she screamed. I wondered if she was going to wave them out of her way—she was that delusional. Why ask that question? They were following us, of course. “I thought you said they didn’t think I did anything wrong! I thought you said they were only treating me as a missing person!”

  “How the hell was I supposed to know?” I lied. “I don’t know what’s happening any more than you do. I was in a hotel room with you, remember?”

  She weaved in and out of traffic, and my head flopped from side to side as she did. My heart was in my throat and I gripped the handle of the door so tight my knuckles turned white.

  “Why are you doing this?” I screamed. “Why keep trying? They’re going to catch you!”

  “We’ll see about that, lady. I’ve got you, haven’t I? You’re my good luck charm. They probably know I have a gun, too—if they don’t yet, they will soon if they don’t let me through without any trouble. I’m not afraid to use this thing.”

  I craned my neck to find it sitting beside her, in the passenger seat. I wondered what the odds were of me leaning forward and grabbing it before she could stop me. I had a bad feeling she’d either swerve, still steering without looking where she was going, or hit the brakes, sending me flying through the windshield.

  Neither scenario sounded worth trying. I couldn’t risk her hitting pedestrians, either, which was exactly what I feared she would do if she didn’t stop running red lights. We’d already had two close calls.

  I looked behind me to see flashing lights pursuing us. I held my breath, wondering if Dan was in any of those cars. Oh, Dan. Please be careful.

  “What do you think of your boyfriend now, Jul
ia? Putting all these people at risk, just because he wants to get his hands back on you. Is it worth it? If he causes an accident and innocent people die, would it be worthwhile?” She hung a sharp right, spinning the wheel, leaving me grateful I’d strapped myself in. I wondered if she was a race car driver in a former life.

  “Why are you blaming him? Why do you always blame other people, dammit? You’re the one leading the chase. You’re the one who did all of this. Not Austin or Emelia or me or Dan. You did it. You didn’t have to, but you did.”

  “Shut up!” She cut the wheel left and I groaned as the jolt sent pain through my shoulder and head. My entire body ached excruciatingly.

  I closed my eyes as we sailed through yet another red light, and this time I heard crashing, glass breaking. I screamed, turning as best I could to see three cars crumpled together. “Shit, Margo! What did you just do?”

  “It’s not my fault. If they’d just let me go so I can be with him, none of this would happen.” Her voice had lost the tremulous, almost pleading quality I’d heard in it. Now it was steely, angry, the voice of a woman willing to do whatever it took to survive. I thought I was more terrified than I’d been at any other time since waking up in the trunk of her car.

  “Please, Margo. Please. They can make this easier on you, or harder. It’s up to you.”

  “No, it’s not. Don’t you get it? I know you do. You’re trying to talk me out of this.” She leaned on the horn again, driving on the wrong side of the street to get around a line of cars at a red light, then swerving right to lead the pack.

  I breathed a sharp sigh of relief when the light turned green just as we started moving through the intersection. The timing was right that time, at least.

  More sirens, more lights. Fewer civilian cars—they must have been blocking off the cross streets all along Century, I realized. Sure enough, I saw them at every block as we sailed toward—

  “The freeway?” I asked.

  “Damn straight, the freeway. That’s where this has all been heading.”

  “Where do you plan on going after that?”

  “Wherever the hell I want. I’ve got a full tank of gas.”