Faithless Angel

by Kimberly Raye

  But this … This situation was entirely different. This was why she’d sat through four years of college. Why she’d volunteered hours on end at every shelter in the city that would have her. Why she’d spent nights with a telephone glued to one ear, answering phones for the local crisis hot line. To help troubled kids.

  Here was a troubled kid, and he needed help.

  His life or death wasn’t going to be predetermined by a freak twist of fate. The outcome rested in his own hands. And hers.

  Nobody’s savior.

  Not in Jane’s case, but maybe for Daniel …

  Please, she silently begged. For Daniel.

  Fear slipped away as she stepped across the threshold. Police officers clustered just inside the doorway, none daring to venture out onto the roof, into Daniel’s line of fire.

  “Daniel,” she called his name, her gaze as desperate as her voice. She stepped just outside the doorway.

  “Hold it there,” the detective ordered. “Not an inch farther, Ms. Jansen.”

  She heard the words and she knew of the danger. Daniel had a gun, for heaven’s sake. She knew, yet she stepped forward anyway, against all reason and logic, as if the softly gusting summer wind changed direction and reached out for her, hauling her forward rather than pushing her away.

  “Dammit!” the detective swore, reaching out for her, but Daniel waved his gun.

  “Get back!” the barrel pointed wildly in their direction and the detective froze.

  “You!” Daniel said to Faith. “You go back home.” For all the viciousness in his words, he didn’t point the gun at her. He kept it trained on the doorway behind her, on the cops who muttered and cursed at Faith’s foolishness.

  And they were right. What she was doing was foolish—and had never felt more right—as if all her training had led up to this one moment. This final test.

  “You ain’t wanted here,” Daniel told her.

  She shrugged. “Maybe not, but I’m here anyway.” She held up her hands. “So why don’t we talk?”

  “You don’t want to talk to me,” he said, as if he’d crawled inside her head and read every past doubt she’d ever had. “I’m just another responsibility to you, another messed-up kid. Another burden.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Ain’t it? You walked away from Faith’s House that first day, away from me. ’Cause you had enough problems already, right?”

  “I …” She shook her head, feeling suddenly like a bug under a microscope. “I had to go then, but I’m here now. I want to be here.” As if he sensed the sincerity in her voice, his gun hand dropped to his side, and Faith took the opportunity to inch forward, step by slow step. “I want to help you, to be your friend.”

  As if Detective Miller had the same idea, she heard the squeak of his boots, the soft thud somewhere behind her, just to her left.

  “Hold it!” Daniel jerked his hand up. The gun streaked through the air to aim at the roof door again.

  The detective let loose another string of curses, echoing through the small group clustered at the top of the stairwell.

  “And I don’t need any friends,” Daniel said, turning to Faith, yet he didn’t point the gun at her. He kept it trained over her shoulder. “I don’t need not one stinking friend.”

  “I do.” Another step, then another. “I need all the friends I can get. Life is tough, even tougher without somebody to share it with.” She took another step. Then another.

  He shook his head. “I ain’t into sharing, and I don’t like people nosing into my business. I don’t want any friends.”

  “But what about needing them? There’s a big difference. I don’t necessarily want to be a foster mother, but I need to. It’s something inside me that I can’t control.” The words came on their own, from deep inside her, and Faith marveled at the ease with which she said them. It was the truth, a truth she’d ignored for so long. Yet it was there, no matter how she tried to bury it. It was there, defining who she was, her actions.

  And so she was here now. Trying her hand at salvation.

  One more time.

  One last time. The thought drifted through her head at the same time Daniel laughed.

  “Get off it, lady. You don’t have to be anything. None of us do. Ain’t you ever heard of freedom of choice? That’s what we got here in America.” He laughed again, a sad, bitter sound that drifted across the distance to her. “Land of the free and all that crap.”

  “Then I’m free to come out here and talk to you, right?”

  He shrugged. “And I’m free so’s I don’t have to listen.”

  “But I can still talk.”

  He didn’t say anything. He just tilted his head upward and stared into the sky for all of five heartbeats. Enough time for her to move even closer.

  “Are you crazy?”

  “He’s got a gun!”

  “Don’t be foolish!”

  “This is suicide!”

  The phrases echoed behind her. Far away, it seemed. So far, and Daniel was so close. No more than five or six steps.

  “You should listen to them.” He motioned toward the doorway. “Playing the hero ain’t worth your life, lady.”

  “That’s right, it isn’t. My life is worth more than that gun in your hand, and so is yours.” Another step. “It is, Daniel. I know it seems like such an easy way out, a solution, but it’s not. There’s no answer in giving up.”

  “You oughta know that.” He smirked. “Given up a couple of times yourself, huh?”

  “Yes,” she said, the word trembling on her lips. “But here I am anyway.”

  “You don’t have to be,” he told her seriously, and the way he said the words shifted something inside her. “You could walk away. I’ll let you walk away. Just turn around.”

  “Why are you doing this?” she asked.

  “Haven’t you figured it out by now?”

  “You’ve obviously got a death wish. But why?” She took another step forward. “Are things that bad?”

  “Damn straight. I ain’t got no home. No family. Nobody.”

  “You’ve got me.”

  “You and your pity, right? I don’t want it. I don’t want anything. I just want to be left alone.”

  “I can’t do that. You’re my responsibility. I signed papers promising to look out for you. I know things seem bleak right now, but they’ll get better if you just step down off that ledge, put the gun down, and talk to me.”

  He shook his head. “It’s too late for talk. I need this. This is what I deserve.” He turned tortured eyes on her. “My ma killed herself, did you know that? Took one of these babies”—he held up the gun and pointed the barrel at his forehead—“and put a bullet right here. Bam!”

  Faith flinched.

  “Then it was over,” he went on. “So quick. So final. I was standing right there and I didn’t even have time to grab her hand. She was my ma, the only person I had. Then she was gone and I had nothing. Story of my life. A kid from nowhere with nothing but a foul mouth and a bad attitude.”

  “You’ve got more than that.”

  “You’re right,” he said, scratching his temple with the gun barrel, his finger resting on the trigger. “I’ve got this baby here.”

  “I was talking about me. You’ve got me, Daniel. I want to be your friend, if you’ll give me a chance.” She swallowed, fighting back the chill that chased down her arms as he tested the weight of the barrel near his temple. “Don’t do this now. If things are really that bad, you can always end it later. Tomorrow. What’s one more day?”

  “No use putting it off.”

  “Maybe not, but you’ve made it this long. Another twenty-four hours isn’t going to make that much of a difference. Just step down and talk to me.” She reached him then, no more than an arm’s length away, and stopped. She held out her hand. “Put down the gun, step down off the ledge, and well both walk away and go someplace to talk.”

  He stared at the gun in his hand, and for all his har
sh words a moment before, his hands trembled. He shook his head. “I can’t,” he said, his voice suddenly small. “I have to do it this time. Things keep getting worse and I can’t stop it.”

  “Faith!” Jesse’s voice rushed at her and she glanced over her shoulder to see him in the roof doorway, struggling between the detective and a uniformed officer who fought to hold him back.

  What the hell are you doing? The words exploded in her head like a loud boom of thunder.

  It’s okay, she thought, praying with all her might he could hear her. Everything’s going to be okay. Trust me.

  She turned back to Daniel. “Things don’t have to get worse. You can help yourself, Daniel. You can let me help you. No more foster homes, no more detention centers. Just trust me, Daniel. Work with me, and things will be better.” His gaze collided with hers and she saw the desperation. He wanted so much to believe. “Things don’t have to be bad. You can have a good life, a home.”

  “A home …” He echoed her words, wonder in his voice. “A real home.” The words were so soft they might have been her imagination. But then he leaned down. The gun clunked against the concrete.

  “Yes,” she said, her pulse leaping. She reached forward and held out her hand. “Now step down off the ledge. Take my hand and step down.”

  He stared at her, indecision in his eyes. Then it was like seeing an eraser wipe the trouble from his gaze. His features smoothed and he actually smiled.

  And Faith’s heart stopped beating altogether. Because she knew that smile—so warm and soft and familiar. His eyes sparkled, so rich and brown—She blinked. The color brightened into an undeniable blue and she shook her head to clear it.

  This wasn’t Jane. This was Daniel.

  Nobody’s savior.

  This time she was. This time.

  He leaned forward, his fingers brushing hers, and Faith’s heart thudded a victorious rhythm. Her fingers twitched, then closed, but it wasn’t Daniel’s hand she held. She held nothing.

  She stared at her empty palm, which still tingled from his brief touch; then her gaze jerked up to capture his.

  “Home,” he whispered a heartbeat before he turned and stepped off into thin air.

  “Nooooooooooo!” She lunged forward, grabbing for him, but it was too late.

  “Faith.” Jesse’s arms closed around her, pulling her down off the ledge where she now stood. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  But it was too late for sorry. Too late.

  Daniel was—

  “He’s still alive!” Jesse said, staring down. “I saw him move.”

  Faith took off running then, Jesse on her heels. She flew down the stairs, out front to where the paramedics were looming over Daniel’s body.

  “I don’t understand,” a fireman was saying. “The tarp was right below him. He shoulda hit smack-dab in the middle.”

  But he’d missed it by a precious few inches, his body broken and bleeding on the pavement.

  “The pulse is jumpy, but it’s there,” a paramedic said excitedly. “Let’s get him loaded up. Radio Ben Taub that we’ve got a critical one.”

  “I need to go with him,” Faith said, her gaze fixed on Daniel’s bruised and bloodied face, as if, if she stared hard enough, she could will his eyes open.

  “I’ll take you.” Jesse stood behind her, his hands on her shoulders, so warm and comforting. But she felt neither. She felt cold and isolated. Desperate.

  “I want to ride with him,” she said. “Please.”

  The paramedics nodded and motioned Faith inside once they had Daniel loaded.

  “I’ll be right behind you,” Jesse promised, and Faith nodded at him, her gaze meeting his for the two seconds before the doors swung shut.

  You did all you could, the reassurance echoed through her head, Jesse’s gaze drilling into hers. You tried. That’s all anyone can ask of themselves.

  She nodded and a tingle of warmth rippled through her, thawing the ice that had settled into her bones. She took her seat near Daniel, careful to stay out of the way of the three paramedics who rushed here and there, turning on machines, hooking up IVs, each of them desperate to sustain this boy’s life for those few precious minutes to the hospital.

  And afterward?

  She tried to focus on what Jesse had said. You did all you could. You tried. That’s all anyone can ask….

  But his deep voice still couldn’t keep the memories at bay, or soften the dreaded truth that Faith Jansen had failed again.

  I’m sorry, Ms. Jansen.

  Massive trauma.

  We did all we could.

  Faith reached for Daniel’s bloody hand, closed her eyes, and did the only thing she could. She prayed.

  Please! Faith’s soft voice whispered in Jesse’s head, and tears burned his eyes, blurring the fast-disappearing ambulance.

  He turned and climbed onto his motorcycle. He needed to get to the hospital. To be with her, talk her through this—

  But that wasn’t the reason Jesse followed the racing ambulance. He knew there was nothing he could say to ease her grief or restore her hope. His dream of a life here with her had been just that. A dream.

  He’d wanted to be all things to her—the answer to every problem, the hope that opened her eyes in the morning, the strength that lulled her to sleep every night—and he could be, but not in this life.

  His comforting words and embraces couldn’t help her now, but his actions could. One final action that would separate them forever.

  One miracle.

  And as much as that scared him, it drove him on, her image, her sadness so heavy inside him that he felt it as his own. It was his own, because he loved Faith Jansen with all his heart, the emotion stronger than any he’d ever known.

  Nobody’s savior. She’d been wrong on that count. She was everybody’s savior, especially his. And he was hers.

  And his time here was finished.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “He’s dying.” Faith’s heartbreaking voice filled Jesse’s ears as she stood at Daniel’s bedside and held his hand. “Th-they said he has massive internal injuries….” The words trailed off into a strangled sob that reached inside Jesse and chipped away at his heart.

  He came up beside her and slid his arms around her waist, pulling her close. She seemed so cold, so alone as he cradled her, stroked her hair, and what was left of his heart crumbled.

  It made what he had to do all the harder.

  And also that much easier.

  After a long, heartbreaking moment, he pulled away from her and turned his attention to Daniel. The boy lay unconscious, the steady whoosh of air from a respirator lifting his small chest in a labored, artificial rhythm.

  “Daniel,” he whispered, taking the boy’s hand. There was no response; not that he’d expected any. Daniel would be dead soon by all accounts. Comatose, the doctor had said. Brain-dead. The machines were keeping his body alive, but there was little hope.

  He closed his eyes and concentrated on the fire burning deep inside him, the blessed soul-saving light he’d carried back with him from the other side. It burned hotter, brighter, like a growing tidal wave that finally broke, washing through him, surging through his fingertips into the near-lifeless teenage boy.

  Then it was done.

  Jesse opened his eyes to see Daniel’s chest rise with the pump of the respirator. His eyes remained closed, his body limp, but there was life in him now. Jesse could hear the steady beat of Daniel’s heart echoed in the pulsing red lights of a heart monitor. He could feel the steady thump in his own chest, just as he felt the anguish gripping Faith, the tightening around her heart, the coldness seeping through her. Her hope was dying. As she watched Daniel waste away, she was doing the same. Dying herself. Inside.

  Not for long, he told himself. Not for long.

  “It’ll be all right.” He drew her into his arms, soaking up the soft, warm feel of her, the fresh scent of roses and rainwater that made his eyes burn and his chest ache.

>   After a few precious seconds, he forced himself away. His fingertips touched her chin and urged her gaze to his. “Don’t lose hope, Faith. I know it’s tough, but hang in there.”

  Her lips trembled in answer. Her eyes glittered, mirroring the unshed tears stinging Jesse’s own eyes.

  Tears, of all things, from a man who’d never cried for anyone or anything. Not when his father had left, or his mother had died. Not even when he’d lain crumpled on the floor next to his brother and sister, dying. The tears had been there, burning the backs of his lids, threatening to overwhelm him, but then he’d closed his eyes, and … death. Then it had been too late to shed even one.

  He shut his eyes now, felt a drop of moisture squeeze past his lashes to blaze a trail down his cheek, and he relished the sensation. This was life. His last sweet taste.

  Faith’s hand cupped his jaw, catching the drop, as if it were the most natural thing in the world for him to cry, for her to comfort him. Her soft voice rang in his ears. “I’m so scared.”

  He opened his eyes then and smiled. “Everything will be all right this time.” He trailed a fingertip down the side of her cheek, memorizing the delicate curve, feeling her heat and her vulnerability and her soul-eating fear. “I promise.”

  And for the next instant, her anguish eased just the tiniest bit. Hope flared, and Jesse knew that Faith Jansen was going to be all right.

  Then he turned and walked away from her.

  For the very last time.

  “Doctor!” The nurse’s frantic cry filled the hospital room a few minutes after Jesse left.

  Faith had pulled a chair up next to Daniel to rest her cheek against his cold hand. At the noise, she jerked upright, blinking her tear-filled eyes.

  “What’s wrong?” Her gaze darted frantically from nurse to nurse as the hospital room quickly filled with medical personnel. Faith quickly found herself hustled out of the way as the medical team crowded around Daniel, blocking him from her view.

  “I told you,” one nurse rushed on. “One minute I’m sitting at the nurse’s station, I glance up, and then I see his heart monitor, and this.”

  “It can’t be right.” The doctor leaned forward to get a closer look. “This can’t be right.”