With her last bit of strength, Olivia pushed herself up. Spotted the broken handle of the knife near her feet, where Deck had discarded it. A small portion of the blade remained intact. As Drake dealt another blow, she scooted as far as the chain would allow her and reached for it. Drawing it nearer with her fingertips, she wrapped her blood-slick hand around it and swung.
The blow glanced off the side of Drake’s knee, as if she’d thrown a pebble at a giant. But when his head spun toward her, his teeth bared in rage, Deck seized the opportunity, landing a flurry of punches that rendered him stunned.
Olivia could only watch, spent, while Deck pinned Drake to the ground and wrapped his hands around his neck.
She drifted in and out again, her fading mind playing tricks. The inky shadows made it impossible to tell where Drake ended and Deck began.
Seventy-One
Will had long imagined his hands around Drake’s neck. Had imagined throttling him. But in his wildest imaginings, it had never felt like this. So raw and real the connection between them. Drake’s dark eyes bulged, his breath coming in terrible gasps. Drunk on his own power, Will pressed his thumbs into the small divot at the base of Drake’s throat.
It felt too right to be wrong. Too good to be bad. As Drake swatted at his forearms, Will dug in harder and leaned in close, close, closer. Until he saw his own reflection in Drake’s wide eyes. His features, distorted by anger, Will hardly recognized himself. What he saw so repulsed him that he lessened the pressure on Drake’s neck.
“You’re just like me,” Drake rasped, a satisfied smile stretching his bloodstained lips. “I knew it all along.”
Decker! Stop! Will couldn’t tell if the voice came from his own head or from God himself. But it cut deep, its echoes spreading through every vein of the mine, impossible to ignore. Then, a light, so bright it blinded him.
“Decker!” The voice of God sounded a lot like JB’s. Looked like him, too. Covered in sweat and dirt and wielding a flashlight with Graham alongside him. “He’s not worth it.”
Will stared at his hands, still fixed around Drake’s neck. They’d taken on a life of their own, a dark life. Will couldn’t seem to stop them, couldn’t pry them away.
“He doesn’t deserve to live,” he heard himself say.
“I know.” JB put a stern hand on Will’s shoulder. “But that’s not your call, partner. You need to help Olivia now. Understood?”
Olivia.
Will let go, slowly straightening his fingers, which for a moment stayed locked like a bird’s talons in a claw grip. He stood with urgency, surprised his trembly legs still worked, and retrieved Drake’s gun, along with his own. With JB’s assistance, Graham rolled a semiconscious Drake onto his stomach, securing him in cuffs.
“Him too,” Will said, gesturing to the heap of Wade’s body. His chest barely moving, Wade clung to life. “He’s our guy. He killed the Foxes.”
While JB and Graham tended to Olivia, wrapping a strip of Graham’s T-shirt around the wound, Will scoured Drake’s pockets for the handcuff key that would release her. Turned them inside out. Searched the ground with JB’s flashlight. Came up empty.
“Looking for this, Detective?” Drake’s eye barely opened. The other had swelled shut. His head lolled to the side, and he stuck out his tongue at Will, mocking. The same way he had on the day he’d escaped. A silver handcuff key rested there, winking at Will from the pink, rolled center of Drake’s tongue, until it disappeared inside his mouth.
“Shit. He swallowed the handcuff key.”
“What about this one?” Graham offered the cuff key from the secret pocket on his belt. As Will expected, it wasn’t an exact fit. Looking at Olivia’s pale face, her drooping eyes, he panicked and tried to force it, nearly breaking off the end. Frustrated, he chucked the key at the rock wall.
Drake choked out a sputtering laugh. “This isn’t over, Decker.” Even half-dead, Will hated the sound of him.
Dropping to his knees, Will pulled at the chain that tethered Olivia to the track.
“The cuffs can wait. What we really need to do is break this goddamned thing.”
“The EMTs will have something,” JB said, patting the radio affixed to his waistband. “They’re on their way.”
“We don’t have time for that.” Will turned his attention back to Olivia, trying to rouse her. She clung to him, wobbly, mumbling unintelligibly. JB stationed himself on her other side to support her. “She’s already lost a lot of blood.”
“Deck’s right. We need to get her out of here now. Coffman too.” Graham rummaged through the pockets of his khaki cargo pants, producing an old Swiss Army knife. “Found it! I knew Uncle Marvin’s rescue knife would come in handy one day.”
Will held his breath—and Olivia—watching Graham saw at the rusty chain with a small steel-toothed blade. After a few minutes, the metal had weakened. With JB holding the chain taut, Graham positioned the damaged link on the tracks, giving it a hard smack with the butt of his gun.
The clang of metal on metal reverberated through the mine. Graham struck again and again until the chain threw off sparks. The beams of the old mine creaked in warning, and Will knew they had to hurry. A cave-in could happen at any time, triggered by something as benign as the vibrations of their footsteps.
“You… got… shot.” Olivia barely managed the words, her voice so small beneath the raucous clanging. But at least she was still alert. Will wanted her to keep talking. “Wade… shot… you.”
“He did.” Will tapped his chest with his free hand, giving a nod to Graham. “But I never leave home without my body armor. Not when Drake Devere’s involved.”
He swore he heard Olivia laugh, even if it was all breath, just before the chain split open, finally freeing her. As the approach of distant sirens beckoned from somewhere above ground, Graham pointed down the long, dark tunnel opposite of where Will had come.
“This way,” he directed, positioning Wade’s body so he could hoist him in a fireman’s carry. “There’s a ventilation shaft that lets out in the grove behind Olivia’s house. JB and I found it on an old map of Clawfoot. That must be how they got her down here so fast.”
JB radioed the EMTs their exact location, as he pushed Drake ahead of him along the path. Will scooped Olivia up in his arms and moved as quickly as he could, while Graham brought up the rear, Wade slumped like a sack across his shoulders.
When a plaintive creaking travelled down the mine shaft, Drake cackled. Clawfoot had mounted its final protest. Will turned back in time to watch a support beam collapse behind them. Small rocks shifted and tumbled down, sending up a cloud of dust.
Drake dug in his heels, wrestling his hands from JB. As the rocks tumbled around them, Will wondered if this had been part of his plan all along. To end them here, buried in a mass grave of wood and earth and stone.
“Leave him!” Will bellowed to JB, still holding tight to Olivia.
Graham kept trudging forward with Wade, passing them, yelling over his shoulder, “C’mon! Hurry!”
JB’s eyes volleyed between Will and Drake. Between freedom and duty. Life and death. For a moment, his feet cemented to the ground, paralyzed by indecision. Then, he moved with certainty, his choice made, just as another beam gave way, filling the tunnel with rubble.
“Are we… going to… die?” Olivia asked Will.
“Not if I can help it.”
Will supported a still-cuffed Olivia from behind while she climbed rung by rung up the ladder of the ventilation shaft, out of the collapsing mine, and into the grove behind her house. He recognized that same redwood stretching its branches toward the sky, realizing he’d walked right over the shaft’s entrance, unknowing.
Once Olivia arrived at the top, to the waiting arms of the paramedics, Graham and JB helped hoist Wade up in a stretcher, both men following behind. Finally, Will scurried up the ladder himself, pausing to take a last look behind him at the tomb of Drake Devere.
Overwhelmed by emotion, he collapsed o
nto the grass, JB and Graham breathless next to him. Above them, the morning had finally dawned, impossibly blue.
Seventy-Two
Will paced the emergency room of Fog Harbor General, waiting for word on Olivia’s condition. His side ached. His head throbbed. He had cuts and contusions in places he couldn’t even see, and his ears wouldn’t stop ringing. But knowing those two men would never take another life made the bruised ribs and mild concussion worth it. Fire Lieutenant Hunt assured Will they’d recover Drake’s body as soon as the mine had stabilized. Wade had been hemorrhaging, his blood pressure dropping dangerously low by the time he’d arrived at the hospital. The prognosis was grim.
“Shouldn’t you lie down, City Boy?” From his seat near Will’s bed, JB glanced up, worried. “The doc’s not gonna be too happy if he sees you getting all worked up. Besides, you’re giving me a fright in that hospital gown. Some things you just can’t unsee.”
“Why isn’t Graham back by now?”
JB consulted his watch. “He’s only been gone five minutes. It’ll take him at least that long to make it over to the ICU. We don’t even know if she’s out of surgery yet.”
Will sucked in a breath, overwhelmed by it all. By Wade’s unmasking. By Drake’s twisted game. By how close he’d come to losing it. To losing her. The ER doctor had rushed Olivia straight into surgery to remove the .22 caliber bullet lodged in her upper thigh. She’d already gone into shock, requiring two units of blood.
“So what happened down there?” JB asked. “Wade Coffman? I didn’t see that coming.”
“Me either, partner. That’s not even his real name.” Will flumped back on the bed, eager to talk shop. He needed his mind anywhere but here. “Olivia discovered the case in Peter’s files. His client, Overton, murdered Wade’s—aka Dwayne Holt’s—entire family and walked free two years later. Same MO as the Fox murders. Bullet to the head and torched the place.”
“Sheesh. That’ll turn anybody crazy. How’d he hook up with Devere? Match.com for psychopaths?”
Will shrugged, still uncertain. But the pieces had started to come together, forming a grotesque picture he never wanted to see again. “Drake admitted he’d been watching us. I think he saw an opportunity to use Thomas as bait. A way to get us exactly where he wanted, so he could carry out his revenge. Bullock’s broken neck was Drake’s handiwork, and Wade confessed to throwing Thomas in the water. Thought he was doing the kid a favor.”
Graham pushed through the door, carefully balancing three cups of coffee. He doled them out with a lopsided grin that reassured Will. “Olivia’s damn lucky. The doc said the bullet narrowly missed the femoral artery. There was damage to the muscle tissue, and she’ll need physical therapy. But she’ll be okay.”
Relieved, Will took a sip and laid back against the pillow, staring up at the dingy white ceiling, a kidney-shaped water stain smack dab above his head. He felt grateful for that water stain. Grateful for the sickly-green pallor of the emergency room walls. For the lukewarm coffee and his stubborn-as-an-ox partner. Even for knucklehead Graham.
“Hey, Bauer,” he said, feigning annoyance. “I thought I made myself clear. You weren’t supposed to come looking for me. You were supposed to keep it to yourself.”
Graham spun around, his eyes narrowed. A dart poised on the tip of his tongue.
“Kidding.” Will chuckled, extending his hand to Graham. He still didn’t like the guy. Still thought he made a lousy cop. But he couldn’t deny the obvious. “Thanks, man. You saved my life. I owe you one.”
With a hint of a smirk, Graham said, “Buy me a cold one at the Pit and delete that mortifying arm-wrestling video, and we’ll call it even.”
Will pondered for a moment, relishing Graham’s discomfort, along with the knowledge that JB had made no such promise. “Deal.”
“Stop, you two. I can’t take it.” JB shielded his eyes. “Can you imagine Batman and the Joker grabbing a beer? Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader splitting a rack of ribs? It’s unnatural.”
After his discharge a few hours later, Will navigated his way to the Post Anesthesia Care Unit on the hospital’s second floor. He had to lay eyes on Olivia for himself.
When the elevator doors parted, Chief Flack stood outside the recovery room.
“Didn’t expect to find you here,” he said, shuffling toward her. His sore ribs protested every step.
“I let you both down.”
Will joined her outside the glass, both of them looking in at Olivia. With her body bruised and battered, the rise and fall of her chest was a reassurance. The steady beep of the electrocardiogram was the best sound he’d heard all day.
“We could’ve lost her.” The chief wiped a tear from her cheek so quickly Will wondered if he’d imagined it. “We could’ve lost all of you down there.”
“But we didn’t.”
“No thanks to me. I should’ve listened to you. I should’ve trusted your instincts about Devere.”
Will shook his head. “Don’t beat yourself up, Chief. You couldn’t have known. Besides, we’re in the same boat. In a million years, I would’ve never guessed Wade Coffman for our killer. I thought he was one of us. You know, one of the good guys.”
“What are we going to do about Bauer?” she asked. “Mayor Crawley said he’d leave it up to me, though he made his position known.”
“It’s your call.”
“I’m asking for your input, Decker. You say the word, I’ll have him removed from the force and out of our hair for good.”
Will studied Olivia as she slept. It scared him how his heart had bloomed like a daisy in a sidewalk crack. He could hardly bear it. But, when she stirred, her hand moving at her side, he realized how lucky he was.
Feeling generous, he said, “Give him one more chance.”
*
Fog Harbor Gazette
“One Murder Suspect Dead, One Severely Injured in Shootout, Mine Collapse”
by Jeanie Turtletaub
Authorities in Fog Harbor, California, confirmed that escaped serial killer, Drake Devere, died yesterday, when portions of a ventilation tunnel in the long-abandoned Clawfoot Mine collapsed. Local security guard, Wade Coffman, was also seriously injured in the incident and has since been charged in the murders of Peter and Hannah Fox and their children, Dylan and Lily Fox, as well as the attempted murder of their four-year-old son. Coffman and Devere are believed to have kidnapped the four-year-old victim from a vacation home early Wednesday morning and held him captive before leaving him in the Earl River to drown. Fortunately, police and medical personnel were able to revive the young boy.
Devere is also suspected in the murder of veteran Fog Harbor police officer, Robert Bullock, affectionately known as “Bulldog” to his colleagues. Bullock served twenty-five years as a patrol officer and leaves behind two adult children. Also kidnapped and harmed by Coffman and Devere was local psychologist, Olivia Rockwell, who our sources learned had treated Devere when he was incarcerated at Crescent Bay State Prison. Rockwell sustained multiple injuries, including a fractured wrist, a bruised trachea, and a gunshot wound to the leg. She is listed in stable condition.
Though the extent of Devere’s involvement in the Fox murders remains unclear, Fog Harbor Chief of Police, Sheila Flack, intimated that Devere may have been motivated by his desire for revenge against investigating detective Will Decker, who originally arrested Devere on multiple counts of murder several years ago. Misty Hubble, the founder of Devere’s fan club—known as Drake’s Devotees—petitioned to claim his body for burial in her hometown of Devil’s Rock, Oregon. However, with no living blood relatives, Devere will likely receive a pauper’s burial on prison grounds in the Crescent Bay State Prison cemetery. Coffman remains in serious condition at Fog Harbor General.
The four-year-old victim was released from the hospital following treatment for hypothermia and hypoxia.
Seventy-Three
Olivia heard her name called from a great distance. Groggy, she fought her way to the su
rface, struggling to open her eyes against the harsh light streaming in from the hospital window. Each time she awakened, she remembered. The bullet hole in her leg, stitched and bandaged. The cracked bone in her wrist, reset in a cast. The lump on her forehead, turned bluish black. The slits of Drake’s eyes, as dark as midnight. But, she felt nothing. Only a dull throb at the back of her brain and Emily’s hand in hers. The benefits of modern medicine.
“Someone is here to see you.” Emily smiled down at her, trying to hide her worry. “He’s been lurking for a while now.”
Olivia put on a brave face, trying to nod her head, when she spotted Deck hovering, the badge on his belt catching a ray of sunlight.
“I’ll be out in the hallway,” Em said, with the authority of a little sister turned big. “In case you need me.”
Deck pulled up a chair, positioning himself next to her bedside. His hand rested on the mattress but he didn’t touch her. She wished he would.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“Been better.” Laughing hurt her throat. She took a sip of water from the hospital mug. “You?”
“If you’re alright, I’m alright.”
With effort, she turned her head to look at him, taking in his stubbled face. The brown eyes she kept falling into. “I’m alright.”
“Well, then.”
“Any news on Cy?” she asked, hopeful.
Deck hung his head. “No sign of him. But Doctor Jessup put up a flier at the office and JB’s wife posted a few around town. He may still turn up.”
Olivia patted the spot next to her, inviting him closer. He looked away, his jaw tight, leaving her cold.
“Em said Drake’s body was recovered.”
One Child Alive: An absolutely gripping crime thriller packed with nail-biting suspense (Rockwell and Decker Book 3) Page 28