She rocked herself. “He’s going to kill us! He’s going to shoot us!”
Peyton cussed under her breath and placed her gun carefully at her knee, then she pressed the gauze to the bubbling hole in Bartlet’s neck. Reaching out with her left hand, she grabbed Genevieve’s hand and forced it onto the gauze.
“If you let go, I’ll shoot you! Do you hear me!” she shouted in her face.
Genevieve made a mewling sound, a strange and strangled cry, ducking her head. Peyton grabbed her other hand and pressed it to the wound.
“Don’t you dare let go!” she hissed, then went still.
Someone had come up behind her.
A shiver went down her spine and she could feel the cold press of metal against the back of her head.
“And people say there’s no such thing as serendipity,” came a cold, chilling voice.
Peyton’s fingers tightened on Genevieve’s. “Don’t let go!” she ordered as she eased back on her knees. She clenched her hands into fists, cursing herself. “Chuck, this has gone too far. I need to get him to an ambulance.”
Slowly the gun rotated around her head until he was standing in front of her, the muzzle pointed right at her forehead. He had dark circles under his eyes and his thick, grey hair was mussed. If possible, he looked like he had aged ten years since she saw him last.
“Just the cop I was hoping to see.”
She glanced at her gun, but he nudged it away from her. Not far, just enough that she would have to grab for it. “Please Chuck, he’s just a kid. He’s innocent. He doesn’t deserve to die.”
“Who does, Inspector Brooks? Who doesn’t? We all die, we just don’t know the time or the place or the circumstances.”
“Don’t do this, please. Let me take them out of here. Let us go, Chuck. I know you want this to end. I know you’re tired.”
“Oh, I am, but I’m not going to be some political ploy on the righteousness of capital punishment. I’m going out the way I choose.”
Peyton knew she had one chance and one chance only, and if she bet wrong, they were going to die. “This isn’t what Miss Opal would want, Chuck. She wouldn’t have wanted any of this.”
He gave her a tired smile. “That’s why this is so perfect. I had planned to pick them off as they came through the door, one by one, adding up bodies until they came at me full force, but this is so much more poetic.”
Peyton glanced at her gun again. “What do you mean?”
“You said Miss Opal wouldn’t want this. Well, I didn’t want what happened with her either. Sometimes we don’t get what we want.”
“What happened with her?”
“He killed her!”
Peyton glanced at Genevieve.
The radio crackled. “Inspector Brooks, I need an update! Inspector Brooks?”
She ignored it, turning back to Chuck Wilson. “You killed your own wife?”
“She asked me to do it. What could I do? She was suffering. But I did it wrong. I didn’t think it through. I should have made sure we went together. That’s how it should have been.” He gave Peyton a sad, weary look, then reached out and touched her cheek with his free hand. “You remind me so much of her. I just wish she’d had your spirit, your fire. You would never have asked me to do what she did.”
Peyton suppressed a shiver of revulsion.
He straightened, but the gun never wavered. “You and I are going to do it right.”
Peyton realized she was hyperventilating again. Black spots danced in her peripheral vision. “What?”
“One shot, Inspector Brooks, one for each of us. Pick up your gun and we’ll end it.”
Peyton wasn’t sure she was hearing him correctly. Every nerve in her body seemed to be on hyper-alert. She was aware that someone was speaking over the radio, but she couldn’t understand the words.
“Come on, Inspector Brooks. I know you want it to be over as badly as I do. One shot. No pain. It ends.”
“I don’t want to die.” The voice didn’t sound like hers. “Please, I don’t want to die.”
“I’m giving you a way out of the pain, Inspector Brooks. A hero’s death. A warrior’s end. No more suffering, no more fear, no more pain.”
“Please, please don’t do this. I need to live. I have someone like you had Opal. I have someone who needs me.”
“Handsome? That’s just a fling, Peyton. Didn’t the shrink tell you that?”
Peyton could hear her own teeth chattering. All of the blood seemed to have left her upper body, chilling her.
“Pick up the gun, Inspector. Finish this. This is the only way out, the only end! You know some part of you wants this to be over! Some part of you wants to stop hurting! Here’s the way, Peyton. Pick up the gun!”
“I’ll do it.”
Peyton closed her eyes. God no! Oh, please God not this!
“I’ll end it, Chuck. I’ll play your game.”
She glanced over her shoulder. Marco stood just outside the hallway, near the first body she’d found. Oh please God, don’t let this be happening!
“You said you’d give me a second chance! Well, give it to me! Let’s play this game together!”
“I lied,” said Chuck in a low, deadly voice.
Peyton’s eyes whipped back to him, stared down into the barrel of his gun.
“There are no second chances!”
The gun swung away from Peyton’s face. The roar of it was deafening. Instinctively Peyton flattened herself over Bartlet’s body.
The first bullet took Marco in the left leg, just above the knee. Peyton stared, horrified as he staggered backward, the leg buckling. The next bullet took him high in the chest on the right side, sending him over onto his back.
Peyton bolted toward him, not even aware of what she was doing.
She skidded, landing on her hands and knees, beside him. He was gasping for air, the shot to the flak jacket knocking the breath out of him. She reached for the ties on the flak jacket, striping them away.
“Take shallow breaths, shallow breaths!” She pressed the radio. “Officer down! Officer down! I need help!”
Suddenly she was aware of a hot dampness seeping into the knees of her jeans. She looked down and stared in horrified fascination at the spreading pool of dark red beneath the both of them.
“What a shame! Looks like I got the femoral artery. Poor bastard’s gonna bleed out in a matter of minutes!”
Peyton scrambled for her belt, her fingers trembling on the buckle. Somehow she managed to strip it off, then she fumbled to tear the holster away.
“Quick thinking, Inspector Brooks. Very quick thinking! I’m impressed. Too bad, though, ‘cause the next bullet’s going right between his eyes!”
Peyton went still.
Her gaze tracked across Marco to his gun. It lay right beside his hand, where he’d released it when he fell. She could hear Chuck Wilson’s boot heels on the concrete floor of the warehouse, coming toward them.
She lunged for the gun, curling her fingers around the handle.
Swinging it up, she pivoted on her heel, squeezing the trigger. The gun bucked in her hand, the bullet slamming into Chuck Wilson. His body jerked, his arms flinging outward, but she didn’t stop. She squeezed the trigger over and over again, his body convulsing with the impacts, until there were no more bullets to be spent.
He weaved back and forth for a moment.
His gaze met hers…then he crumpled to the floor.
Peyton dropped the gun and swung back to Marco, grabbing the belt. She slid it under his thigh, sliding the leather end through the buckle. Leaning close to him, she whispered, “I’m sorry,” then she drew the belt taut.
He gave a tortured cry of pain, arching his back, but she twisted the leather around her fist, exerting as much pressure as she could to stop the bleeding. Bringing her mouth close to his ear, she kissed the side of his face.
“Stay with me, Marco. Stay with me!” she said. “They’re coming. They’re coming to help us!”
“Please stay with me,” she said, realizing that tears were streaming down her face. “Please, please don’t leave me. Please, don’t leave me, Marco!”
CHAPTER 20
Jake hurried into the waiting room of San Francisco General Hospital, searching the people huddled in pairs and small groups. He found her, sitting in the back corner, staring at her clasped hands. He crossed the room and slid into the seat beside her.
She glanced up. She was wearing hospital scrubs, her hair pulled back in a severe ponytail.
“Where is he?”
“Surgery.”
“Have you heard anything?”
“Abe went back to find out for me, but…” She wrung her hands. “His heart stopped as they were putting him in the helicopter. His heart stopped…”
He put his arm around her shoulders and she sank against him. He rested his chin on the top of her head. “But they got it going again. They got it going.”
She reached up and gripped the front of his shirt. “I’m so sorry, Jake. I’m so sorry.”
“For what?”
“When Zoë died, we came in and tore your life apart. We didn’t give you time to grieve. How can you not hate me?”
“Because you gave me a life in return. You gave me purpose and friendship and...a dog.”
She gave a sobbing laugh. “I can’t do this, Jake. I’m not strong enough. I don’t want to live without him.”
“You don’t have to. He’s gonna pull through. This is Marco, Peyton. He’s too damn grumpy to die.”
“I keep trying to relive it, but everything’s a blur.”
“Have you heard about Bartlet?”
She nodded. “He’s going to live. There was another guy, a maintenance worker. He stumbled into the building and Wilson shot him in the head. They told me he had a new baby at home, three weeks old.”
Jake tightened his hold. “Chuck Wilson isn’t going to hurt anyone else, Peyton. It’s over.”
“It’s not over. Marco’s in surgery, Jake. I’m not lying. I don’t think I can do this.”
“If anyone can, it’s you. You are the strongest person I know, Mighty Mouse.”
Commotion at the entrance distracted him. Peyton lifted her head as Vinnie appeared. She rose to her feet as he hurried across the room, catching her in a bear hug. A moment later the rest of Marco’s family entered, surrounding Peyton until Jake couldn’t see her anymore.
* * *
Vinnie turned her to face him, placing his hands on her shoulders. “You have to tell us what happened?”
She tried to collect her thoughts. “He was shot. Once in the thigh and a second time in the chest. His flak jacket stopped the second bullet.”
“Is the leg wound bad?”
Peyton swallowed at the lump in her throat. “The bullet severed the femoral artery. He’s in surgery right now. Abe went back to find out information.”
“Okay, so a leg wound? Okay?”
Vinnie clearly didn’t understand, but Peyton wasn’t going to tell him how bad it really was. What was the point? So they could feel as empty and terrified as she did?
Abe came around the corner of the waiting room, pulling a cap off his dreadlocks. He slowed when he caught sight of Marco’s family. Moving to her side, he ran his hand over her back. “They’ve got him stabilized. They did a transfusion and his blood pressure returned to normal. The surgeon’s on his way out to talk to you.” He focused on Marco’s parents, Mona and Leo. “There are some important decisions you have to make.”
“Like what?” asked Mona, fingering her rosary beads.
Abe started to answer, but another doctor appeared. He was a small, thin man with a goatee and a thick head of black hair. He came up to the group and Abe introduced him.
He shook hands with Marco’s parents. “I’m Dr. Cohen, the trauma surgeon who operated on your son.”
“How is he?” demanded Vinnie.
“We have him stabilized. We gave him a transfusion and restored a regular sinus rhythm.”
“What does that mean?”
“According to the medics, he went into cardiac arrest at the scene. When he arrived here, he was in arrhythmia, most likely due to blood loss.”
Mona gasped and covered her mouth.
“What do you mean he went into cardiac arrest?”
“His heart was restarted at the scene, but a transfusion was necessary in order to get a normal heart rhythm again.”
Marco’s family needed a moment to adjust to that information.
Vinnie scrubbed a hand over his mouth. “But he’ll be all right now?”
“That’s what we need to talk about. The femur was shattered by the impact of the bullet, the femoral artery almost completely severed. He would have bled to death if someone hadn’t thought quickly enough to apply a tourniquet; however, that comes with problems as well. It saved his life, but it may have caused tissue death in the lower extremity. The second bullet fractured his clavicle, but his bullet-proof vest prevented any severe damage. He has a hairline fracture, but we’ll let that heal on its own.”
“Clavicle?”
“Collar bone,” offered Abe.
Dr. Cohen nodded. “However, the left leg is a different matter.”
“You can do surgery, right?”
“We can; however, the reconstruction we’re talking about is a lengthy operation and even so, there’s no guarantee the limb will be viable again. If he does regain some mobility, he’ll require extensive physical therapy and…” He sighed. “There’s no guarantee he won’t be in lifelong pain.”
“I don’t see that there’s another option,” answered Vinnie.
“There is.” The doctor glanced at Abe. “We can take the leg.”
Mona made a stricken sound. Leo wrapped his arm around her shoulders, supporting her.
“With advances in modern prosthetics, he should have almost complete mobility again within months. Amputees now run marathons, hike, do everything that able-bodied people do.” He paused and shifted his attention to Peyton. “I feel that this is our best option. I’m not sure he’s strong enough to undergo a lengthy surgery.”
Peyton heard the words, but she was numb. Nothing had prepared her for this. Still, it seemed obvious. If this was the best option, then there wasn’t any choice. He had to get well. He had to come home. There just wasn’t any other way to look at it.
Tears streamed down Mona’s face.
“I’ll need permission from one of you to do the surgery,” Dr. Cohen said to Marco’s parents.
Mona shook her head, gripping her rosary beads so tight her knuckles went white. “I can’t do this. I can’t let you take my son’s leg.”
“I know how hard this is for you, Mrs. D’Angelo, but it’s the safest thing to do. It’s the most humane thing. If we try to reconstruct the leg, there’s no guarantee we won’t have to take it later due to infection. Better to spare him that pain and risk now.”
“No! No, there’s got to be something else you can do! You can’t mutilate him like this. You can’t take his leg!”
“Mama,” said Vinnie.
“No, I can’t do this. I can’t. Don’t ask it.”
The doctor exchanged another look with Abe. “There is a middle ground.”
“What is it?” asked Vinnie.
“We can start the reconstruction, but at the first sign of stress, an irregular heartbeat, a drop in blood pressure, we can switch to amputation. The problem is if we have to make that decision, there won’t be time to come out here and get permission. You’d have to trust me enough to make the call on my own. You’d have to give me permission to change the surgery in the middle if necessary.”
Mona continued to shake her head.
“Mama, you have to let him do this,” said Bernardo.
“No, no, I can’t.”
“Then you sign the papers, Papa,” urged Franco.
Mona grabbed her husband�
�s hand, forcing the rosary beads into it. “You can’t do this. You can’t agree to this. Promise me you won’t do this to him.”
Peyton moved forward, catching Mona’s hands and turning her away from Leo. “We don’t have a choice, Mona. We have to trust the doctor.” She pressed her hands tight, sealing their fingers with the beads. “We can’t lose him, Mona. We can’t chance having him leave us.”
Mona’s hands trembled in Peyton’s, her eyes swimming in tears. “How will we know he’s telling us the truth? What if he amputates without trying to save the leg? I can’t chance it.”
“I’ll be in the observation room, Mona. I’ll keep an eye on things,” offered Abe.
“Mona, please. Please. We can’t lose him. I can’t lose him. I don’t want a life without him. Please, trust me that this is the right decision. Trust me,” Peyton pleaded.
“I’ll sign the papers,” said Leo, tilting back his head defiantly.
Mona burst into sobs, but gradually she nodded her agreement.
* * *
Jake handed her a cup of coffee and sat down beside her. She took it, but she didn’t think she could drink it. Anxiety had her guts in knots. She’d stopped looking at the clock half an hour ago. More than four hours had passed and there was still no word about Marco.
Defino had arrived with the entire precinct and somehow secured them their own waiting room. She was glad for that. At least the drone of the television in the public waiting room had been silenced.
Jake touched her hand. “Take a sip. It’ll help. It tastes like diesel fuel, but it’s hot and caffeinated.”
She took a sip, grimacing at the bitter taste. “He made me an offer.”
“Who?”
“Chuck Wilson. He made me an offer and I couldn’t take it.” She looked up at Jake.
“What was the offer?”
“He’d let me pick up my gun and then we’d both shoot. That’s how he wanted to end it. He wanted us to go together.”
Jake reared back from her. “Dear God, Peyton, I…” His voice failed.
She bit her bottom lip, fighting tears. She wasn’t going to cry. She wasn’t going to give in, not now. “I told him I wanted to live, that I needed to live for Marco.”
Murder on Treasure Island (Peyton Brooks' Series Book 7) Page 33