by Sally Mason
“Do you know what happened to Hallie?” After her fighting performance at the cabin, we can’t be too careful.
“When I snuck in, she was blasting the music on her iPod. I didn’t want to knock her out since any noise could have alerted Luke. I’m sure that her cast will slow her down, even if she ran after us.”
With the snow patches and ice on the ground, her cast would be a serious hindrance. For now, Luke is the only enemy. My eyes dart across the field. I have no idea where we are. We could be heading toward the lake or the main road. Best to keep heading opposite the approaching noises.
I push myself forward when Finn takes off, racing behind him through the knee-high grass. There are still a few patches of snow which I avoid by hopping around them. Finn takes long even strides, his arms and legs pumping in perfect unison. He’s a hell of a sprinter. Watching him, he makes it look easy, like a gazelle dashing across a veld. It spurs me on and I find my rhythm, flying across the clearing. The tree line on the other side is getting closer. We have almost made it.
A shot ricocheting through the night kills my false sense of security. Something hot grazes my arm, a stinging burn making me gasp. Another shot almost splits my eardrums—I feel like prey in the open. Swaying from left to right, I try to avoid being an easy target, like a rabbit averts the hunter. Keep moving is the only thought on my mind.
A figure steps out of the forest on the other side. A sudden panic paralyzes me, and if my body wasn’t on autopilot, I would have probably fallen or peed my pants. The moon is behind him, throwing a long shadow onto the clearing, which makes his frame appear gigantic. I can’t see his face, only the gun in his hand. The metal gleams menacingly in the moonlight.
When he lifts the gun, I stare at Finn, who keeps moving in his direction.
“Over here,” the figure shouts, and I realize it’s Marcel. Once again, the cavalry has come to my rescue.
I slow down when I reach him and turn back to my pursuer. “Be careful, Marcel,” I mutter, gulping down large mouthfuls of air. “Luke is Napoleon.”
Fog from my rapid breath distorts my vision, and it takes me a second to realize that Luke has stopped, gazing at us from about thirty yards away. A rifle is pointed right at the middle of my stomach.
“Drop the gun, Marcel, or I’ll shoot her.” His voice is calm and composed; there’s no doubt that he is serious.
“That won’t be necessary.” Marcel’s gun swings around, zooming in on Finn. “Sorry, bro, but I’m with Luke here. Game’s over.”
CHAPTER 35
For the second time that night, I’m stunned that someone I have trusted explicitly could betray me like this. My lips tremble and I’m about to tell Marcel what I think of him when Finn seizes the opportunity.
“What the hell!” His voice is laced with utter bewilderment. “I got a text earlier that you and Tyrone—”
A pistol whip to the back of his head silences him. Marcel aims directly at me. “Wanna run your mouth off, too?”
With a clenched jaw, I shake my head. Tears burn in my eyes, but for the first time tonight, it’s not from pain or fear. It’s rage. If I was the one holding the gun, Marcel would be dead. His betrayal stings almost as much as Luke’s—he played us all for a damn fool and we blindly trusted him.
Luke lowers his rifle. “What do you want, Marcel?”
“What everyone wants.” Marcel smirks. “Money.”
Luke glares at Finn’s figure on the ground. He is out cold, but his chest is moving evenly. At least he is alive and isn’t bleeding. Maybe Marcel’s blow wasn’t as bad as it looked.
Luke’s gaze travels back to Marcel’s face, whose dark, cold eyes freeze the fibers in my bones. This is the look of a killer.
“How much is it gonna cost me?” Luke asks.
“A lot.” Marcel hisses when I twitch, his head shaking with a warning. “My boss ran into some legal troubles that prevent him from further employing me. I need to disappear. Make it a hundred grand and I’m out of your hair.”
Luke whistles. “That is a lot. What makes you think I got that type of money?”
Marcel’s dry laugh is like a bark and makes me sick to my stomach. “Don’t play games, pretty boy. We both know your daddy has been pulling strings in the background. It won’t be the first time he’s paid someone off.”
I gulp, refusing to accept this new revelation. “Roy knows about this?”
Marcel clicks his tongue. “You’re so naïve, Kelsey. Do you think your bro here could have pulled this off by himself?” With a smug smile, he glances at Luke. “Tell her, man. Open her eyes that she never had a chance to find justice.”
I realize that this goes far beyond what I imagined. Almost everyone I know seems to have their fingers in the pie.
Luke chuckles. “Who else do you think tipped Jed off when the police came to arrest him that night without a warrant? His old friend Larouge kept him in the loop when they couldn’t find a judge fast enough in the middle of the night to sign the paperwork, and it only took a couple of phone calls to set things up with the tape. My dad is so obsessed with me becoming a lawyer that he’ll do anything to make this go away.”
Only howling wind follows his words. I’m totally numb, the world crashing down on me. I was denied justice—not because of some screwup—but because the people around me are vicious liars. All Roy’s ranting and raging about Jed getting off was just a show, a well-orchestrated scheme to protect his son.
I shake my head, trying to focus. “But you beat up Jed!”
“Those beatings were warnings to keep Jed in line.” Luke beams, probably thrilled that he can finally reveal the truth. “After we sent you the book, he wanted out. He has always been a coward, and it was only a matter of time until he would’ve opened his big mouth. Shooting him was the only way to permanently quiet him.” The satisfied smile twitching on his lips is plain evil.
Marcel prods Finn with his foot, who responds with a moan. “He’ll wake up soon. Let’s get this over with.”
Luke’s eyes cut into me when he raises his rifle. “Sure thing.”
I want to squeeze my eyes shut but can’t get myself to tear my gaze off him. We glare at each other before he smirks—that same wicked grin that he had when he raped me tonight.
“On second thought—” His rifle swings around. A boom breaks through the night as it discharges. It takes me a second to realize that the bullet misses me—hitting Marcel instead straight in the chest.
In slow motion, I watch him fall backward, his body crashing to the ground. My mouth opens, but the scream is stuck in my throat. In that moment, my survival instincts take over. I dive forward, my eyes fixed on Marcel’s gun.
Without a second thought, my fingers clutch the grip. I whirl around, pointing the barrel in Luke’s direction. My eyes squeeze shut as I pull the trigger. Pain tears my shoulder apart. It feels like I’ve been kicked by a horse as the backward momentum from the gun pins me to the ground.
When bright light replaces the darkness, I actually think that I’ve been hit, and this is the end. I expect to float up and see my own body or walk through a bright tunnel to get to my ultimate resting place, but instead, loud voices echo around me. I cup my hands over my ears, refusing to listen, too afraid of what I might hear.
Someone pulls me on my feet and shakes me. “Kelsey, are you alright?”
I squint at Detective Larouge, trying to make sense of his question, before my eyes dart around to assess the situation. The mouth of the forest path and the clearing are filled with cops. A couple are crouched next to Finn, who is sitting up with an icepack resting against the back of his head. He is talking and seems fine. My eyes find Marcel, who lies motionless on the ground. A few officers huddle around him, one zipping his jacket open.
“He’ll live, sir,” she mutters. “The bullet went straight into his vest. Luckily, he wore a plate and it was only a twenty-two.”
My head is spinning, and I clutch Larouge’s arm when a bulky cop slaps th
e handcuffs on Luke. My brother can barely keep himself on his feet, blood spilling from his shoulder. His whole face is contorted into an ugly grimace. He struggles against the cops who pull him toward a waiting stretcher, yelling at them with a flood of colorful curses.
As he passes me, his eyes interlock with mine—they glow with so much venom that every part of me recoils. “This is not over,” he shouts in my face and I flinch backward. “I’ll get out of this, and when I do, you’re fucking dead. You’ll pay for this”—he tears on his handcuffs—“and you, too, Marcel.”
My lips form a response. I want to tell him to rot in hell for eternity, but no sound leaves my mouth. The momentary relief that Napoleon can’t hurt me anymore is replaced by an agonizing pain—my heart wails that I lost my brother for good.
“Are you alright?” Larouge repeats, his hand softly stroking my back.
I stare at him, my mouth dry like it’s filled with cotton wool. “I—I don’t know.” I glance around like a lost and scared animal—terrified of what the future might hold. Just as my knees are about to buckle, I’m pulled into a tight embrace, which prevents me from falling.
Finn’s face nuzzles into my hair. “Don’t worry, we’ll get through this. I’m here for you.”
I want to believe him and shout at myself that everything will be alright, but when the tears begin to roll, the terrible fear that I will never feel whole again traps me. Of all the possibilities, why did my tormentor have to be Luke?
CHAPTER 36
Just like the night of my first rescue, the blanket around my shoulders doesn’t provide any comfort. My insides are frozen to ice, and every time I flinch, my sore body aches in protest. What is different, though, is that I am alert despite the late hour, my mind racing at mega-warp speed. I still refuse to come to terms with the events of the last hours as my eyes stare blankly at the wall.
The hospital went by in a blur. They bandaged my arm and torso, gave me a bunch of painkillers, and told me to take it easy when I refused to stay. Luke was being attended to in the next room, and I couldn’t stomach being anywhere near him.
Finn has not left my side, holding my hand through the entire ordeal and allowing me to cry into his chest when a new wave of sorrow sears through my soul. I am glad. Since my days of cutting are over, I desperately need a friendly face in my corner.
“Hey, how are you two holding up?” Marcel asks from the doorway of the small office they stuck us in, studying us before closing the door behind him. I’m still utterly confused about his role in all of this, but judging by the fact that he is still walking around a free man with his DEA badge dangling around his neck, he must somehow fall into the category of a good guy.
The look Finn gives him reflects my mood—he is thoroughly pissed at his friend. “Bro, you better start explaining why you knocked me out.” He rubs the back of his head. “First, Luke, then you. My head is about ready to explode.” His gaze travels to the badge. “And what’s with the dog tag? Don’t tell me you’re some damn cop.”
Marcel smirks. “Sorry.” He plops into the chair behind the desk, propping up his feet. “You were just about to spill that I was supposed to be in jail, which would have raised Luke’s suspicion. Didn’t mean to hit you so hard.”
Finn doesn’t look convinced, and neither am I.
“So this was something like a setup?” I ask.
“Yep.” Marcel shifts his weight in the chair with a twisted face. He seems to be in a lot of pain. “I suspected Luke already while we were all searching for you. He was a little too nonchalant for my taste, like he wasn’t really worried. Even tried to convince me once that you might’ve just needed a break and I should let it go.”
I frown. Why didn’t he tell me this before?
“The night he shot Jed, I knew I was right,” he continues. “But Larouge couldn’t pin him down. Luke was slick, always putting his father into play whenever he got himself into a tight spot during the interrogation. At some point, he refused to cooperate altogether. That’s when Larouge threw him in jail. He thought Luke might break under the pressure, but no, he hung in there. Eventually, he would have walked on the self-defense claim, and if he was found not guilty after a trial, double jeopardy would have prevented us from ever charging him for Jed’s murder again. That’s when we made up that story about the knife. Larouge needed more time to investigate.”
Finn lets out a low chuckle. “So let me get this straight. You and the cops—tonight was all part of some grandiose thought-out plan?”
Marcel grimaces. “Unfortunately not. We didn’t think he would grab Kelsey again without Jed—too risky. There was clearly an accomplice, but I thought it was his dad. Roy is a corrupt lawyer, but no kidnapper, so I never figured Luke could have a helper. It was stupid on my part. I should have known something was up with Hallie when Donna voiced her concern about her odd behavior. After her arrest tonight, she gave a full confession. Luke and her started dating when they met while he was taking you down to Portland for your therapy sessions. She’s totally obsessed with him and would’ve done anything he cooked up in his deranged mind.”
Finn rubs his head again. “She sure is a conniving little bitch. They lured me out of the restaurant, claiming they had this surprise for Kelsey. When they got me to the van and I noticed it was my uncle’s, Luke jumped me from behind while she gave me this angelic smile. Luckily, she wasn’t a Girl Scout—she couldn’t tie a knot worth shit.”
I jump on my feet, unable to breathe. All this conspiracy with me as bait doesn’t sit well with me and I long for some fresh air. I head for the door. The two guys don’t stop me, probably knowing that I will take Marcel’s head off if he gets in my way.
It’s still dark when I step outside, the chill of night freezing me to the bone. I stare into the sky, wondering how this could be justice. In one night, my brother, my stepdad, and my friend are gone from my life. What did I do to get the losing end of the bargain?
With chattering teeth, I rub my arms, hissing when I accidentally touch the bandage. The pounding pain is quickly overpowered by surging rage—the whole world has been fooling me. My bawled fist hits the wall, accompanied with a loud “Arghhh” shouted into the darkness.
“I guess you’re mad.”
Marcel’s voice startles me, and I punch him in the shoulder, which makes him cringe.
“Careful there, Kelsey. I’m already damaged enough.”
“Why?” I snap. “You could have told me the truth the night we were arrested in New Haven. I could have died tonight if Finn hadn’t been there.”
He fishes a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, offering me one. I shake my head, done with everything that could harm my body. After lighting the cigarette, he takes a long drag. His eyes close when he allows the smoke to escape from the corners of his mouth. For the first time, I realize his hand is shaking slightly—his nerves must be shot.
“Truthfully, Kelsey, when it came to Luke, I wasn’t sure where your loyalties lay. You were so dead set on trusting him that I was scared you would let it slip eventually.” His eyes drill into mine. “Believe it or not, this case was more important to me than Tyrone’s, and even though I had some pretty selfish motives, I do care about you.” When I frown, he laughs. “Not like that, just as a friend. Despite what everyone might have been tellin’ you, you’re a really strong woman, which I admire. I know you’ll pull through this eventually, even though it might take some time.”
I search his face for a sign of insincerity, thinking he is just trying to smooth things over, but he openly holds my gaze. He doesn’t even break eye contact when he takes another drag, and it is me who finally ends our staring contest.
“So what were your motives?”
“Simple really.” He flicks the ashes away before taking another drag. “I wanted out of the DEA, but no police department would touch me with a ten-foot pole. You see, before I became a cop, I was really in a gang.” The drags are more frequent—this is hard for him.
�
��How did you get out?” I ask when he remains silent.
“When I was sixteen, I shot an FBI agent during a raid and put him in a wheelchair. They were gonna lock me up for a really long time, but he intervened, making me a deal. If I turned my life around, he would make sure my case stayed in juvie court, and eventually, he’d get my record expunged.” He lights another cigarette with the butt of the first, tossing it away with a little too much force.
“So I agreed”—he blows the cigarette smoke toward the sky—“but police agencies who hire transfers still have access to your file and know about these things. No one wants a former thug on the team unless it’s for undercover work, and Larouge actually laughed in my face when I inquired if there were any jobs. He told me to get lost. In his eyes, I was nothing but a criminal.”
I click my tongue; that’s so typical for Larouge. He’s third-generation detective and undoubtedly looks down on guys like Marcel. What he doesn’t realize is that not everyone is born with a silver spoon up their behind.
“So Larouge said if you give him Napoleon, he’ll hire you.”
“Pretty much. Your abduction case was one of the few he hadn’t been able to solve, and it looked bad on his record. Yet he didn’t only want Napoleon, but also the guy who tipped off Jed. His department looked terrible after the warrant incident and he wanted blood. After we zoomed in on Luke, Roy was the most likely suspect, but with his reputation and pull with the bar association, we needed hard evidence. And the only one who could give us that was Luke.”
Now the pieces finally come together. Larouge wanted the full package, handed to him on a silver platter, and since I was already messed up and Marcel his pawn, he didn’t care what would happen to us as long as he could make his arrest.
In a sense, he had done me a favor, since otherwise, there would have probably never been enough evidence against Roy. And knowing my stepdad, he would have found a way to get his son off. I would have been denied justice once again—now, I at least have a chance.