I screamed and raised one knee hard—I felt it pummel something solid, and he lost his grip on my upper body. Briefly free, I rolled to the side and continued kicking like Boba Fett trying to escape the Sarlacc. My foot hit Craig again, and he swore. He pulled back, and I heard the gun click. It fired, deafening at such a close range, and I distantly heard glass shatter. I huddled into a ball and rolled farther away.
The smoke began to clear off, and I spotted the fire extinguisher. I grabbed it, whimpering when my wrist screamed in pain, but I embraced the smooth metal cylinder with both hands. Though I was lying down, I put the force of my body behind it, rolled to the side, and swung the extinguisher at Craig. It hit him in the head with a dull metallic clang.
He collapsed backward. I gasped, my voice high and frightened. Craig went limp. I kicked him off my legs, dropped the fire extinguisher, and dragged myself to my feet. I staggered as I ran down the hallway for the stairs. The gas from the fire extinguisher had spread out, filling the air with flour-like powder, which veiled the entire hall in a ghostly half-light. My breath came in tearing gasps, and I hit the door to the stairs with the full force of my body.
I bounded down the stairs two at a time, half running, half falling as I scrambled for the safety of the first floor. I sobbed as I ran, terrified for Nick and Paige, terrified for myself, thinking of Wes’s final minutes—had he been this frightened? Had he too tried to run from Craig? Had he been too slow?
I fell headlong when I reached the landing for the main floor, tasting blood and cracking my knee against the tile, but I bounced back up before I could feel the pain. The cops had to be here, someone had to have followed me, help was near, it had to be. I threw the door open—
—and ran smack into Max, the security guard. I screamed, an involuntary cry ripped from my throat before I could even register who I’d hit.
He caught me by the shoulders and steadied me. “Whoa, there,” he said. “Autumn?”
I faltered for a moment, tears running hot down my cheeks. “Craig,” I said. “Nick, Paige—he killed Wes!”
Max wrapped an arm around my shoulder and pulled me out into the still-dark hallway. “What’s going on?” he asked. “You’re not making sense.” He guided me toward his desk.
“Craig—attacked me,” I gasped, trying to put my words in order. “He has Paige and Nick upstairs—we have to get help. He killed Wes.”
We reached his desk, and Max leaned me against it. He faced me, his wrinkled face concerned. “Did he tell you all this?”
I shook my head spasmodically. “No. I mean, yes. Sort of. He’s trying to sell the building and use his commission to buy into the development. He blackmailed Donald.” I felt like I couldn’t get my thoughts into the right order. I could feel blood seeping hot into my mouth, and I desperately wanted to spit. My wrist burned with pain, and I could feel more blood oozing from my knee onto my jeans. My whole body shook.
Where were the cops? Was Craig unconscious?
Max moved away from me and went behind the desk. He dragged his chair out to sit at the end of his station, patted the seat, and went to take my elbow. I let him push me toward the rolling chair, and my legs gave out. I collapsed into the seat, rolling backward a little. Max stood beside the desk. I saw that the bag and keys were still sitting on the surface of his desk, and I wondered where he’d been when I was getting my ass kicked.
“Are the kids still up there?” he asked.
I nodded. “They need help. Maybe you should call the cops again—I thought I heard them coming.” I glanced toward the phone and saw that it was off the hook. I looked up at him. “Did someone call?”
Max nodded absently. “Maybe I should go check on them.” He wasn’t looking at me but gazing steadily up toward the fourth floor, where the light from the camp lantern was dimly visible. “Might need help.”
I rolled toward the desk. “I’ll just . . . call . . .”
Under the desk was an open box of smoke bombs.
It took my brain a moment to catch up with my eyes, and I gaped at the box. Max—Max—our harmless security guard—he had access to everything, everyone in the mall. He had a new investment plan, something that would let him retire. He had an alibi, because he was always here, always at his desk. No one would ever suspect him. No one had suspected him.
I looked up at him. He had shifted to watch me, his rheumy eyes glinting in the dim light. “You?” I croaked. “You and Craig? Why?”
“I told you,” he said. “I told you I had a new investment plan that would set me up.”
“No. No. We trusted you.” I swallowed. “You attacked Meghan, didn’t you?”
“She was in the way with her little plans for the building. Craig couldn’t see it. He sent an email from her to Donald, hoping it would persuade Donald to back out. He would take care of her, he said, but I knew it wouldn’t work. I knew she needed to be scared off.”
“But you screwed up. You guys did too much—it was obvious it wasn’t just about Wes. When you threatened me and Meghan, we knew something else was happening.”
“We would have pulled it off,” Max said. “We would have made those two kids look like a murder-suicide, like they were trying to frame Craig. No one would have known I was involved.”
“It’s too late now,” I said. “The cops are coming.”
His teeth glinted in a feral smile. “You think so? When the security guard told them everything was quiet here?”
I shook my head. Denial was my friend. “They wouldn’t believe that.” Jordan would never get talked out of making sure I was safe. She would be here, if no one else came.
“So where are they?” He held out his hands, and we both fell silent, listening. There were no more sirens, no sounds of panicked people, no cops with megaphones demanding entrance. There was only silence. A dull roaring filled my ears, a whooshing sound of panic. I tried to shut it out, shaking my head, but it wouldn’t go away.
I pushed my chair back and tried to stand, but my injured knee didn’t want to cooperate. “Too bad your buddy’s out cold,” I said. I tried to sound confident, ballsy. “It’s just us.”
Max stepped toward the desk, reaching for the bag, and it occurred to me that I really didn’t want to know what he had in there, what he had used to knock out Paige. I forced my feet under me and scanned the desk for something to use to defend myself. His desk was clear except for the smoke bombs, a newspaper, and a canister of pens, and I felt my blood pressure rise. It wasn’t far to the door, and I only had to be faster than Max.
He lifted the bag—it was empty, I realized, as he shook it out. He had ropes, though, and a mean look in his eye. I struggled to my feet and caught myself on the desk. Max watched me, a little smile on his face, as I scrabbled for the cup of pens. I snagged something, drew it out and bared it like a lance—it was a wooden pencil, neatly sharpened. Max started to laugh.
I growled at him and did not lower my new weapon.
But at that moment, as I prepared for one last fight, I finally identified the source of the rushing noise.
Someone had called the elevator, and it had arrived on our floor. Max turned from me to watch it, and I lowered my pencil, horrified. The doors dinged, the lights turned on, and the doors began to slide open.
23
CRAIG STOOD INSIDE. HIS face was bloody, and the whites of his eyes showed brightly. He leaned against the wall of the elevator, breathing heavily, and my heart leapt into my throat. The gun dangled from his limp hand.
“Ah,” he said. “You got her.”
“Yep,” Max said. “Was just about to tie her up. I figure we can make her part of the little scene upstairs—like she tried to stop Nick, got herself killed in the process.”
I shook my head, mute. Craig smiled at me, made a tsking sound. “That hurt, Autumn.”
“You think that hurt,” I said. “Wait till you feel a good beating in prison.”
“I’m not going to prison
.”
“No? This is too much,” I said. “You kill me, and you’ll get caught for sure. Four people dead, your own girlfriend injured in a stupid attack? There’s no way you’ll hide all the evidence, not even if you burn this place to the ground. Donald ratted you out, too—there were half a dozen witnesses. And Jordan will come.”
“You always think your little friends will get you out of trouble. So trusting. You’ve never changed.”
“Maybe not. But I’m glad I haven’t changed if changing means turning into something like you. You’re disgusting, Craig. You’re a monster.”
“Okay, okay, that’s enough,” Max said. He stepped toward me, bag held out. “You want to do this the easy way or the hard way?”
“Neither?”
Craig tightened his grip on the gun. He didn’t aim it at me, but he did tap it against his leg. “Now, Autumn, we’re going to need you to cooperate. We can’t kill you here. I won’t let you wreck another crime scene.”
He took a step toward me, moving into line with Max. I stumbled back, tripped over the chair. I disentangled myself and stepped behind it, shoving it forward. He caught it and pushed it away across the lobby. I was cornered behind the desk, trapped like a rat. A really stupid rat who’d tried to hunt a cat without any help. Max loomed, bag in hands, and Craig took another step. I clasped my pencil in my fist but kept it at my side.
“Don’t do this,” I said.
“It’s too late,” Craig said. “It’s already done.”
I took a deep breath. I wouldn’t go down like this, dragged to my death without even a struggle. I wouldn’t make it easy. I would not stop fighting, not ever. I dove for him.
His instinct wasn’t to fire the gun—he wasn’t that corrupted, not yet. He caught me, the gun in his hand, but I was ready this time. I raised my arm as high as I could, pencil in a death grip, and drove it into the meaty flesh just above his collarbone. Craig roared, staggering backward.
I shoved my way free and began a mad, limping dash for the front door.
The gun fired. I shrieked and staggered, but I felt no pain. I ran for the door, ran for all I was worth, ran to save my life and hopefully Nick’s life and Paige’s—
It flew open before me.
Jordan stormed in wearing a SWAT vest, Detective Keller at her heels. They both had their guns trained on Craig. Half a dozen more cops followed them in, shouting at Craig to lower his weapon, to stand down, to put his hands in the air.
I collapsed to the tile floor, gasping and crying and laughing all at once. There was blood on my hand from where I’d stabbed Craig, blood all down my leg, blood on my face, blood pounding in my ears. My clothes were coated with dust from the fire extinguisher, and my wrist throbbed in time to my rushing pulse. But I was alive. I’d done it.
Jordan knelt on the floor beside me. “Are you okay?” Her voice seemed very far away.
Shock, I thought. That was a thing that happened when adrenaline ran its course. This was way more intense than LARPing.
I nodded. “Yes. I think so. Nick and Paige, though, they’re upstairs—they’re hurt, I think. On the fifth floor.”
Jordan shouted something at someone, and a group of cops broke off and made for the stairs. Another group, headed by Detective Keller, had Craig and Max both in handcuffs. Detective Keller recited their rights in a tight, tense voice.
“How’d you guys know?” I asked. “Max said he sent you away.”
“We were outside and heard the gun fire upstairs. It took us a minute to get geared up. We were never not coming in,” she said, a funny smile on her face. “I wouldn’t have left you in here.”
“I know,” I said. “I told Max that.”
“Looks like you gave Craig what he had coming.” Jordan’s eyes were trained on him across the lobby. Blood ran freely from the wound in his shoulder, and dried blood crusted the back of his head and his face. “What did you do?”
“Um, hit him with a fire extinguisher. And then stabbed him with a pencil. He tried to shoot me.”
“Wow. Good for you.” We sat in silence for a moment, and then Jordan pounced on me. She squeezed me so hard I squeaked, her arms wrapped around me in a bone-crushing hug. “If you ever do something so stupid ever again, I will stab you with something way worse than a pencil.”
I laughed, but my eyes overflowed and suddenly I was crying. “He stabbed Wes with a pen. Can you believe that? I knew he had a mean streak, but Wes was just a kid.”
“Well, karma got him back—and you.”
I nodded, blubbering. Jordan, one arm still wrapped tightly around me, waved at one of the EMTs, who trotted over to check on me. It was the same woman from the day Meghan had been attacked, and she clucked over me as she pulled me to my feet and towed me out to an ambulance. They tried to force me onto a stretcher, but I refused to lie down and instead perched at the edge of it, so I could watch the action in the main lobby.
Cops brought out Max and stuffed him into a squad car while he glared balefully in my direction. I gave him a little wave, which caused the paramedic taping my sprained wrist to make a disgusted sound in the back of her throat. I ignored her, waiting for my moment of glory—Craig came out on a stretcher, one of his hands cuffed to the metal frame. He protested as they forced him into an ambulance, and one of the police officers who had made the arrest hoisted himself up with him. I was glad to know they were taking his slipperiness seriously—even at the hospital, he would be watched.
My glee at his confinement faded when they brought Paige and Nick out on stretchers. I could see Paige’s eyes fluttering open over her oxygen mask, but Nick seemed to be unconscious. I gave Paige a small wave, but I didn’t think she saw me as they wheeled her into another ambulance. Nick disappeared into the same vehicle, and it took off for the hospital, sirens blazing.
Jordan reappeared. “The paramedics who saw them said it looks like they’ll be okay, but they’re worried about Nick’s head injury. Paige was drugged. Both of them should be out of the hospital pretty soon, though.”
“Thank goodness,” I said. “Have they been cleared?”
“They will be once we bring the charges against Craig and Max.” She turned to study my face. “You were right—but did you know about Max?”
“No way. I was shocked. That’s how they almost got me.”
“Everyone will be shocked.”
“Did Donald make his statement?” I asked. “What about Meghan—did you find any evidence about their attack on her? And the pen that stabbed Wes, can you confirm it was Craig’s?”
“I think you’re in the wrong line of work,” a voice said behind me.
I tried to turn, flinching when I wrenched my bad knee. The paramedic muttered threats of hospitalization but fell silent when Detective Keller stepped around to the front of my stretcher. I attempted a smile. “I’m not so sure. Catching murderers seems bad for my health.”
“I’ll say.” She took in my bandaged wrist, my fat lip, and the paramedic swabbing at my bleeding knee. “You’ve looked better.”
“Thanks,” I said dryly. “And thanks for coming.” I flinched when the alcohol made my scrape burn, but I didn’t look away from Detective Keller’s sober face.
“It wasn’t a favor to you. Meghan Kountz called from City Hall and said you’d gone off after your friends. Right after, we got a call from Miss Harding’s parents saying they thought she’d been abducted—there were signs of a struggle at their house.”
“Did Donald tell you about Craig? Is that how you knew to come?”
“We knew to come because Officer Hansen here laid out your case. Mr. Wolcott’s story helped, but it certainly wasn’t the only thing that mattered.” She gave me a sour look. “You sure were thorough. I’ll admit, I thought you were nuts last night, but when the guys we had following Mr. MacLeod lost track of him this morning, we thought he might be up to something. He refused to answer any questions last night, you know.”
; “You were following him—you didn’t see him attack Paige?”
“He’s smarter than he looks.” She didn’t sound like she believed it, and her angry face said someone would have to pay for letting Craig get through her net. “He managed to lose our cops by hitching a ride out of his office with someone else. I’m betting it was your security guard.”
“I never thought he was involved,” I mused. We all watched as the police car with Max locked in the back pulled into the street and began to make its way, silent and slow, toward the police station. “Everyone saw him that night, but no one thought anything of it. We never thought anything of him being there.”
“He was the perfect partner,” Jordan said. “Practically invisible—no one ever thinks to suspect the person everyone trusts. Particularly when they seem so harmless.”
I wanted to point out that her bosses had been quick enough to suspect Paige when she seemed perfectly harmless, too, but it didn’t seem worth rubbing it in. Jordan had been right to chastise me for interfering, and I’d almost screwed things up for her—but she’d come through for me when things got dangerous, and even when I was stupid enough to put myself in danger, she had never stopped watching my back. We’d both done what we thought was right—had done what was right, I thought—and we’d caught the bad guys in the end.
“Will they go to prison?” I asked instead.
Detective Keller shrugged with one arm. “Not our problem. We’ve gotten enough evidence to arrest them and press charges now. Our part is done.”
“That’s not very reassuring.”
She rolled her eyes at me. “What do you want from me, Miss Sinclair? It’s not a police state—we can’t just lock them up and throw away the key because we have half of an incriminating story.”
“Right,” I said. I wished I trusted them to get it done. Maybe Wes would get some justice. I wanted to believe it, but it had taken my efforts—and the work of my friends—to get the cops to stop focusing on a pair of innocent kids and start hunting for the actual monster who wore a suit and killed a boy with an expensive pen just for overhearing an argument about a lousy million-dollar deal.
No Saving Throw Page 21