~ ~ ~
Quick footsteps sounded behind them, and Johnny knew whose they were without even turning around. Bailey. He released his fingers from the gun, letting it fall next to Jerry’s body. It was finally over, he realized as his eyes sought Katherine’s. His short dream of freedom, of stability—of love—had come to an end. She returned his gaze, the last several months of misunderstanding between them forgotten, her eyes telling him she finally understood what had come between them, what he’d been going through. That quiet moment between them, during which no one else existed, seemed to last a lifetime. It seemed to make up for the previous weeks of mistrust and tension.
“Kate!” The brief, peaceful interlude was crudely shattered by Wesley rushing in, hitting his shin with a loud smack on the coffee table. He limped over to Katherine and turned her to face him, pulling her close. “You all right?”
Johnny stood watching as Katherine relaxed into his arms, nodded, and buried her face in Wesley’s shoulder—like she used to with him. He barely even noticed the presence of the other two men, for, in that instant, all his mind could process was that he and Katherine were over. Over.
“Step away from the gun, Morgan,” Bailey instructed. Johnny slowly turned his attention to the two detectives who held their guns drawn on him. Green’s eyes had the look of I told you so.
“Stop!” Katherine pulled herself from Wesley’s embrace and cried in a voice full of tears. “He just saved my life—it was self-defense. You have nothing on him.”
“Was Drake’s death also self-defense? One of the officers down in the lab managed to get another fingerprint off the gun found in his hand. Guess whose it was?” Bailey’s voice was sharp, his eyes never leaving Johnny’s face. “He has to come down to the station with us and answer some serious questions.”
“No, you don’t understand.” Katherine stepped between Johnny and the police. “He didn’t kill Drake, Jerry did. He confessed to me himself. Johnny’s fingerprints were on the weapon because he helped Jerry cover it up.”
“Oh, so he was only an innocent accomplice to murder?”
All the while Johnny was fighting off a feeling of claustrophobia as he mentally tuned out the conversation. He felt as though the prison walls were already closing in around him. He couldn’t go through that again. Couldn’t go back. And he took the only opportunity he saw.
He bent faster than a lightning strike and snatched up the gun from the floor with his right hand; with his left he crudely grabbed Katherine and pulled her in front of him, twisting her arm behind her back as he held the gun to her head. “Put the gun down or I shoot her. Now!” he shouted, giving a little jerk to Kate’s arm so that she cried out in pain, a noise that finally registered the situation to the detective’s startled senses. Bailey gave a subtle nod to Green and both slowly lowered their guns. “Now drop them and kick them over here!”
They both kicked the guns over. Johnny turned to Wesley. “Pick them up by the barrels and put them in my pant pockets—slowly, or your girl dies.” He gave her arm another jerk.
Wesley stepped forward, bumping his leg on the coffee table again as he uncomfortably bent down to pick up both guns. He approached Johnny slowly, awkwardly holding the automatics and fumbling slightly with them as he placed them both in Johnny’s pockets. One less likely opponent he had to worry about. He got the distinct impression that Wesley had never handled a gun before.
“Nobody move!” After Wesley released the handles and took a cautious step back, Morgan began edging towards the door keeping Katherine in front of him. “If I anyone moves or follows I’ll shoot her. Got it, Bailey?” The detective nodded a begrudging, angry yes.
Johnny could feel Katherine wince slightly from the tight grip he held on her arm as he propelled her in front of him out of the door; the moment he kicked the door shut behind him he loosened his grip slightly and pulled her into a run down the hallway.
He didn’t pause to wait for the elevator but instead took the stairs. He took them two at a time, Katherine almost tripping on the third one.
“Wait!” She pulled to a stop, forcing Johnny to a stop as well. “Just leave me here, Johnny. There’s no point in taking me along. Besides, I’ll only slow you down. I can’t go as fast as you can. You should get away without me—while you can.”
“We’re almost to my car, come on!” Johnny pulled her to continue the headlong race down the stairs, but deep inside he knew she spoke the truth. Even so, he couldn’t bear the thought of breaking away by himself. He selfishly wanted a few final minutes with her.
They reached Morgan’s car in record time where it was parked in the small alley at the rear of the apartment. Gasping for breath, Katherine quickly let herself into the passenger seat as he dashed around to the driver’s side. Despite her recent fainting spell, a new wave reckless carelessness seemed to sweep over her.
“Don’t get in a wreck!” She steadied herself with a hand on the dashboard as he swerved the car out of the alley and turned her head to see that the screeching tires had left a trail of burnt rubber on the pavement.
He nodded and slowed down. There was no point in calling attention to themselves. “Where is Bailey parked?”
“In front, I suppose.” Katherine clicked her seatbelt firmly into place. “They’ve been watching my place from the front for some time now. Why?”
“Just going to slow them down a bit is all.” Johnny replied as he pulled up behind the squad car parked next to Green's black one in front of Katherine’s apartment. He reached into his pocket and passed her the small penknife he always kept on him. “Slash the two back tires; he’ll have a spare in the back, but only one. That should give me a good half hour head start.”
Katherine didn’t hesitate hopping out of the car, knife in hand. Johnny watched her from the rearview mirror, his throat tight. His heart felt like it was going to be ripped from his chest. She was such a trooper. This reminded him of the Kate he knew before, the fun Kate, before all this business with Drake happened and ruined everything. He couldn’t drag her along with him to the border for his own insurance. Who knew what could happen on the way? He could get into an accident, the cops could begin shooting on sight . . . For once in his life—probably the first time—he would do the unselfish thing and release her. Tears welled hot behind his eyes.
“I got four of the tires! Two on each car.” Katherine breathlessly returned to her seat and passed the knife back to Johnny. “That should hold them up even longer than a half hour, don’t you think?” Her smile faded as she saw the tears standing in his eyes, noticed his quivering chin. “Johnny?”
“Kate.” Johnny forced a calm voice and kept his eyes on the rearview mirror, avoiding hers, waiting to see signs of pursuit. It looked as though Bailey and Green were actually following directions. Hopefully Wesley would insist on it—Johnny knew the way he felt about Katherine.
“Yes, Johnny?”
“Do you still want to marry me? Are you willing to leave the country with me and lead the rest of your life in a foreign place?”
She took a deep breath before answering. “I do love you, Johnny. I always have. There’s nobody I care more about . . . but there’s Wesley too, and I—I hope Wesley and I might . . .”
“That’s all I needed to hear.” His voice was tight. “I suspected you had feelings for him, but with everything else going on I didn’t want to think about it. I also needed to hear it directly from you so I won’t wonder about it for the next ten years of my life in Mexico.”
“Johnny—”
“Get out of the car.” His eyes were focused on the steering wheel. He didn’t dare look at her for fear he might lose his resolve and take her with him.
“What?” She stared at him. “But I thought I was your safety net, your hostage, until you get across the border?”
“No. It’s too dangerous for you. You know I’d never hurt you—I had to make them believe I was serious. Get out of the car; go back to Wesley. Well, actually”�
�he grinned suddenly—“wait a couple minutes for me to get a head start first, okay?” He finally looked at her, then quickly returned his gaze to his mirrors.
Tears filled her eyes as she nodded slowly. “Of course. I’ll wait as long as I can.” She leaned across and gave him a kiss on the cheek, before choking up. “Goodbye, Johnny . . . and . . . good luck.” All her memories of her times with him were flooding her mind, how she felt about him, what he'd come to mean to her.
He nodded, unable to speak, but just watched her silently as she unbuckled the seatbelt again and got out. She didn’t have time to close the door before he returned his foot to the gas pedal and ground it down. Changing his mind again wasn’t something he could allow, plus he was losing time. Every minute counted.
“Johnny, wait!” He heard her scream suddenly. He slammed on the brakes again, disregarding the loud squeal. She ran up to the passenger door again, out of breath and climbed in.
“Tell me what happened that night in Drakes apartment.”
“What? You’re crazy, Kate. I’ve gotta’ get out of here.”
“No, Johnny. Tell me—I have to know.”
“I went there with Jerry to rough him up a bit, make him pass over the letters.”
“Who shot him?”
“Jerry did. He lost his temper when Drake wouldn’t pass over the letters, and
shot him. But my fingerprint was on the gun because I had to adjust it, help make it look like a suicide.”
“So when I got there, you were still there?”
“I’d stayed behind, after Jerry, making sure there was nothing left. I heard
someone knocking and beat it to the fire escape. I had just started down when I recognized your voice. I couldn’t let you just barge in like that on him. I had no idea you were going to come over that night, you have to believe me.”
“I believe you.” She fumbled around in her purse and pulled out a black lighter.
His black lighter with the small diamond on it.
“Where did you find that?”
“It was in my apartment after you and Jerry searched it. I pocketed it before
Bailey could see it.”
“About that—”
“Plenty of time to explain on the way. You answered my questions.” A smile lit
her face as she reached up and pulled on the seatbelt again.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m going with you.” The sound of the seatbelt clicking firmly into place didn’t
leave room for argument. “I hear there’s a great demand for women architects in Mexico nowadays . . ."
Retribution Page 34