by T. M. Cromer
“No, that didn’t mean you had to go with me, I’m sure it’s nothing.”
“When has one of your inner voice warnings been nothing?” Dane asked, offering a hand and jerking him up. “If Mason had listened to you all those years ago, Melanie would probably be alive today. You told him something was off that day.”
“Yes. And when Erica’s house burned down, my first gut reaction had me comparing it to Christie’s handiwork. But believing she was dead, I thought I was just being paranoid.”
“Well, you know what Mom would say. ‘While your last name is Sharp, it’s the McAdams blood that runs through your veins.’”
Both brothers shared a grin. Their mother swore their McAdams ancestry was what made them great. She would tell tales about family members who all had a sixth sense or ‘the second sight’ all while the boys had been growing up. Connie had been the only adult who asked for Zack’s opinion on every major financial decision she’d made. That ninety-nine percent of the time it was correct, lent to her belief that her middle son had the family gift.
“Well, if anyone has the gift, it’s Josh,” Zack laughingly said, then sobered as he thought of his cousin who used to run the McAdams Pub here in town.
Josh’s wife and son had been missing for the last four months. When they’d been gone for only a week, he’d told the police he believed them to be dead. Law enforcement had interrogated him for days on end, thinking he’d harmed his family. After he’d been released, Josh stayed in a drunken stupor for approximately a month. On the first night he’d been sober, he’d been hit by a drunk driver while walking home. As far as he knew, Josh was still in a coma. His siblings, Derek and Rosalyn, now ran the bar.
They both said Josh’s wife’s name simultaneously. “Angela!”
Dane must have had come to the same conclusion at the same time. Reaching for his phone, Zack dialed Bucky.
“Hey, Buck. Have you checked the woman’s DNA against Josh’s missing wife?” he asked when the other man answered.
“How did you know?” Bucky asked, his shock obvious.
“Dane and I… Well, I don’t know. The idea just came to us.” Zack hissed out a breath. “So it is her?”
“Yeah, Derek and Ros are being informed as we speak.”
“Then why did you need my DNA if you knew it was Angela? Why didn’t you test the boy’s against hers? Wouldn’t it have told you if it was Ryan? Not to mention it would have been an easy matter to get a sample from Josh,” Zack questioned, confused.
Silence on the other end of the line clued him in to the truth.
“You didn’t know it wasn’t Erica and Jacob when you asked for my DNA, did you? You wanted a sample to see if I’m behind their abduction,” he surmised. Rage flooded through him. “You know what? Fuck you, Bucky! Fuck your whole piss-poor department! You’ve known me my whole damn life. You really think I could do something like that? Char-broil my own fucking kid?”
“Zack, I’m sorry. We had to be sure,” Bucky hedged.
“Go fuck yourself,” he snarled and hung up.
Dane plucked the phone from his hand and replaced it with the empty whiskey glass. With a sweep of his hand, he gestured toward the fireplace. Zack hefted it up and hurled it toward the brick with all his might. Shattered glass rained down on the base of the hearth.
“Feel better?”
“No! Fucking bastards!” Zack yelled.
Dane plucked another glass off the sideboard and again handed it to him with the same result. After Zack had smashed his fourth glass, he was somewhat calmer.
“Done?” his brother asked, no inflection or judgement in his tone.
“Yeah.”
“Good. Those glasses are expensive. Let’s go. You drive, I’ll get Mason to meet us at your house.”
Chapter Twenty-One
As they where only a block away from his home, Zack suggested Dane duck down in the vehicle until they were safely ensconced in the garage. If he was correct and Christie was around, he didn’t want to take the chance of her realizing he wasn’t alone. He’d told Mason to come in the rear, then use his alarm app to disengage the sensor and unlock the back door.
Maybe his feeling would be a dud, but all three Sharp men agreed it was better to be prepared. Zack had also told Mason to call Shonda and clear things up. If something happened tonight, he didn’t want there to be any regrets between the two. Of course, his older brother, being the stubborn asshat he was, called him a dickhead and told him to fuck off.
“Why did you tell Mason to make it right with Shonda? You don’t think anything will happen to him, do you?” Dane asked, cutting him a sharp glance.
“I don’t think so. It’s just…”
“A feeling,” they said in unison.
“When are you going on the fortune telling circuit?” Dane teased.
“Fuck off,” Zack replied without heat. “Okay, we’re here. Stay low and quiet. If she’s in there, I’ll direct her away from the garage door. I’ll leave it cracked so as not to set off the door chime, so don’t let it close. You come up behind her and bash her skull in, but only after I have the location of Jacob and Erica.”
“You do realize it’s murder if I kill her without her attacking me, right?”
“I don’t care,” Zack said, cold and determined to end this.
“If I go to prison, my milkshake will bring all the boys to the yard,” Dane quipped.
“Do you even know what that means, you idiot? You’d have to have breasts to have a ‘milkshake’ and you only wish you were that pretty.”
“Wow, aren’t you Mr. Pop Culture,” Dane said. “Maybe I’ll get implants. I can charge admission. They’d be worth two packs of smokes on the inside.”
“Will you focus and shut the hell up before she hears you?” Zack snapped.
“You don’t even know she’s here.”
“She’s here,” he said grimly.
Dane became hyper-focused. “Maybe we should think about calling the police.”
“No. This ends now.”
* * *
Zack didn’t even try to be quiet as he stepped through the entry leading into the hall from his garage. There was no point. Christie would have heard the car pull up and the overhead garage door open. He, on the other hand, could scarcely hear a thing for the pounding in his ears. His heart felt like it was ready to burst from his chest at any moment. Even when he worked out, his pulse never beat this fast or hard. Fear did that. Kicking everything up a notch. His hands shook as adrenaline surged through his body.
“Oh Evil Spawn of Satan, I’m home,” he sang out walking down the hall. Hoping to ease Erica’s mind. He heard a muffled snort which made him feel moderately better. That would be her. She appreciated his snark.
“In here, lover,” Christie replied.
He knew she’d think he was referring to her. He was inclined to let her.
As he stepped through the entrance to the living room his heart stopped. There in the center of the room sat Erica and Jacob, hands bound in front of them, forced to sit facing each other in chairs which rested inside small separate kiddie pools. The smell of gasoline permeated the air. Jesus! Christie planned to burn one, or both, alive!
Over the expanse of the room, his worried, blue eyes locked with Erica’s tired brown. She looked like hell, as if she’d hardly slept in the four and a half days she’d been a prisoner. He noticed she took ragged half breaths and there was a gray pallor to her skin, what wasn’t purple and green from multiple bruises.
He surveyed Jacob for any similar damage, but other than being tired and frightened, his son didn’t appear to be suffering.
Christie stepped from behind Jacob. In one hand she held a flip lid lighter, in the other a small Beretta. “Nice of you to join us. Took you long enough.”
A fury, like none he’d ever known, seized hold. His body trembled with the need to separate Christie’s head from her body. How dare she put those he loved through such torment!
�
�You know I thought they were dead with your little exploding house stunt,” he growled.
Erica gasped. Apparently, Christie hadn’t bothered to share that small detail with her victims. It surprised him. He would have thought she would have enjoyed taunting Erica.
“Yes. One of my finer ideas. Similar to the hospital fire,” she stated proudly.
“Have you had Angela and Ryan all this time?”
A side glance showed Erica frowning, her confusion complete. He concentrated on Christie. If he became distracted, it could cost them all dearly.
“She showed up with the boy to clean the house where I’d been hiding. It wasn’t planned.”
Her breezy and uncaring attitude infuriated Zack. She went around taking lives and destroying others with no concept of the grief she instilled in others.
A quick dart of his eyes to Erica showed silent tears streaming down her face.
“How long have they been dead?” he asked, trying to keep his tone even and curious, while not showing his horror.
“Since the day she found me,” Christie said. The lighter lid started to open and close, indicating to Zack she didn’t like this line of questioning. “Why do you care? It’s not like you were dating her. She was married to that loser who runs the bar.”
“That loser is my cousin, Josh. And that boy you killed? Yeah, he was our son’s best friend, you bitch!”
“Whatever. Jacob will have other friends… if I decide to let him live,” she stated airily. “That brings us back to now. It’s time for you to choose.”
Zack attempted to stare her down. She refused to be intimidated, looked amused by his efforts, if the truth be told. It worried him. Her stance exuded confidence. Did she have an ace up her sleeve? What could it be?
“I’m not going to choose, Christie. What would be the point?” he asked as unaffected and casual as he could. Inside his stomach was in knots. Sweat pooled in his pits and on his lower back. His knees felt shaky and he wondered how long they would hold him up. “It strikes me that you will do the opposite of whatever I want. Perhaps out of spite or revenge? Regardless, it seems to me you’ll kill whoever you think holds the most of my love. Am I wrong?”
Her eyes lit with a mixture of madness and anger. Yes, he’d guessed correctly.
“You have ten seconds to pick,” she snarled.
A minute shake of Erica’s head caught his attention. Resolve lit her gaze as she conveyed silently all the things they couldn’t say aloud. If he had to guess, his own would be tormented and full of regret. She straightened as best she could and turned to address the woman who’d made her life hell for the last weeks.
“Oh for god’s sake, Christie,” Erica inserted. “Just let Jacob go. His only crime is being born to the two of you. Of course a father is going to love his son and choose him over a woman he’s sleeping with. Why wouldn’t he?”
Horror filled Zack. What the hell was she doing? Christie wouldn’t think twice about hurting her own son. She’d tried to drown him as a toddler.
“But like you said, he sent Jacob to live with your parents. So what does that tell you? I’m really the one he wants. It’s why he won’t say. He doesn’t want Jacob’s last memories to be of coming in second,” she scoffed. She shifted to address Jacob. “Sorry, sweetie, but facts are facts. Because part of you comes from her, there will always be a part of you which repels him. ”
Dear lord, she intended her speech to sacrifice herself. His terror was for her now. Erica would antagonize Christie until there was no other option.
“Is this true?” Jacob asked him, tears streaming down his face. “You don’t love me?”
There was no way he could answer. To destroy his son by admitting to a lie, even if it was to save him, was impossible.
“Let’s see, shall we?” Christie called their bluff and put a gun to Jacob’s head.
“No!” Zack screamed in unison with Erica.
“Do you think I’m stupid?” she screamed into Erica’s face.
“Yes?” Erica said.
The gun slammed into the side of her temple and she moved no more. Zack charged forward three steps before the muzzle swirled to point to his son’s heart.
“Uh, uh, uh. Stay right there, lover. Any closer and I pull this trigger.”
Where the fuck were his brothers?
“I’m tired of this. Do what you’re going to.”
A groan from Erica had him breathing a sigh of relief. Still, he watched Christie. She wanted all his attention, she had it. He only had to wait for an opportunity to strike. He prayed she’d make a mistake soon.
“Mason, you might as well come out now,” Christie called. She lowered her voice and directed her next statement to Zack. “I know you’d never come here alone. You don’t have the balls.”
“Actually, I did come here by myself.” He spoke just a fraction louder than he normally did, trying to make it seem normal and relay the bluff to the other two men.
“Hmmm. Well then let’s see about that. Mother?”
The door behind her opened and Mason entered, followed closely by Judith, who had a Glock jammed into his spine. His brother’s anger at being caught was palpable. Zack felt an inappropriate bubble of mirth. He’d have let it loose if the situation hadn’t called for being on guard and serious.
“Dude, you let an old woman get the jump on you?” he asked. Apparently, his inner child couldn’t resist.
“Fuck off, dickhead.”
Zack grinned to show Mason no hard feelings. Although, he was concerned Dane hadn’t made a move up to this point.
“Come out, Dane, or my mother shoots Mason where he stands,” Christie called out.
“He’s not here,” Mason told her. “The pussy’s home nursing a broken nose.”
“Is that right?” she asked skeptically. Three heartbeats passed before she whipped her gun around and shot him in the thigh.
“Jesusfuckingchrist!” he groaned as he dropped like a stone.
Zack got three more steps in before she’d spun around and aimed the weapon at him. “I told you not to move.”
His breath came in short huffs as if he’d finished a 10K run. Did that demented whacko intend to take them all out? He sent a mental message to Dane to contact the police. It’s not as if his brother would get the silent communication, because neither was telepathic, but maybe some supernatural force would intervene in their favor.
He caught movement from the corner of his left eye. It took every ounce of staying power not to look down the hall. No one should be coming from that direction. Had Dane circled around the house? He couldn’t have gotten in the French doors off the master without a key. As far as he knew Mason had the only spare. As the person snuck down the hall, he gave the universal sign to stop from where his hand rested by his side. If Christie or Judith saw the gesture, the gig would be up. But he had to let whoever intended to help know there was a loose board there. The squeak would send up an alert.
The signal worked. He was careful to only move his index finger. An indication to walk around that particular spot. Again, the rescuer picked up the cue. A few more feet and he could see out of his peripheral vision, Shonda was poised to move when the opportunity struck. She held the gun she’d offered up to them a few days before.
Still, where the hell was Dane?
“Christie, call this off. Please. I’m begging you.” Zack wasn’t above ditching his pride in an effort to make her see reason. There was no pride without his family, and they were all in danger now. “Surely the neighbors heard the gunshot. The police still routinely patrol this block looking for you.”
That was when Dane moved into position, shovel raised high above his head, ready to strike.
“Christie, for fuck’s sake. Light the damn match already. I need to sleep,” Erica snapped, in an effort to distract her.
She’d seen his brother also.
Red-faced, Christie took a single step toward her. The shovel in Dane’s hands came down on Christie’s
wrist, effectively sending the gun skittering across the floor to Zack. As Judith aimed at Dane, Shonda stepped from the hall and squeezed off a round. Judith dropped next to Mason, who was quick to scramble for her weapon.
As the scene played out, Zack rushed to get Jacob out of harm’s way, urging him to run for the back door. When he spun back to get to Erica, Christie was there, flipping open her lighter to set the gasoline ablaze.
“No!” he screamed, trying to gain purchase on the now gas drenched floor.
Two reports of gunshots sounded, and a look of stunned disbelief crossed Christie’s face before she fell. The whoosh of air extinguished the flame of the lighter.
Erica slowly straightened up, walked the two feet to Christie, and promptly kicked her in the ribs.
“I hope you’re dead, you fucking piece of shit!” Whack. “Rot in hell!” Whack.
She got off two more well placed kicks before Zack pulled her to him. A sharp inhale had him easing back.
“I think my ribs are broken,” she panted. “I forgot for a second.”
Sirens sounded in the distance much to the relief of everyone in the room.
Zack held her head in his hands and dropped a soft kiss on her split lip. “Don’t you ever go off on your own again.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t think you h-have to worry ab-bout that happening,” she struggled to say. If possible, she was even more gray. Zack lunged to catch her as he witnessed her eyes roll back.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The overhead light burned brightly as Erica struggled to open her heavy lids. Machines beeped and voices could be heard in the distance. When she would have shifted for comfort, sharp pain shot through her upper torso reminding her of the beating she’d taken.
In slow increments, it all came back. She wondered how much time had elapsed. She didn’t remember anything past kicking that twat, Christie.
A visual survey of the room found it empty. She supposed Shonda would be in with Mason, and Zack would be with Jacob. That left Erica the odd victim out. It didn’t bother her much. As long as she wasn’t in the clutches of the evil schizoid, she supposed she had nothing to complain about.