Rogue

by Izzy Gomez

  But he'd never felt sheer terror until that moment, his sight gone, the air around him so still anything could attack from out of nowhere. Every muscle tensed, preparing to defend himself. Yet if the attack came, he was defenseless. He'd spent his whole career training to take down bad guys, only to lead to this.

  Useless.

  Was this how Phil felt when he faced Martin Gorkey and his gun? Had he known he was going to die?

  That Greg would die was a given. So did he give up and deny Todd the satisfaction of a struggle, or preserve his dignity and go down fighting?

  The pain shooting through his shoulder pointedly reminded him of his position. Hog-tied and muzzled, he had little choice.

  Even expecting it, the trunk lid popping open sent a jolt of fear through his core. In shadows, Todd loomed over him, a dark, menacing figure straight out of a child's nightmare. Behind him, tree branches with only a few remaining leaves blocked out the sky. A creepier death scene Greg couldn't have imagined.

  He should probably be freaking out. Good stuff, Propofol. Maybe he'd get that peaceful death everyone longed for.

  So he had that going for him.

  Todd wrapped an arm around Greg's neck and pulled. Greg immediately started choking, coughing and gasping for air. Todd only pulled tighter. He used his arm and his body strength to haul Greg from the car and throw him to the ground.

  Greg's shoulder and hip landed hard on the concrete, giving him yet another shot of pain. He couldn't hold in a groan.

  "That's the best you got for me?" Todd pulled his foot back and kicked.

  Even seeing it coming, Greg was unprepared for the blow to his gut. His body tried to contract forward but his tied limbs prevented it. He gagged and choked. His vision blurred.

  Do it quickly. I love you, Amanda. Mom. Dad.

  “Don’t worry, I’m not going to kill you yet.”

  Why not?

  “How does it feel to have to be rescued by a girl?” Todd’s tone was mocking.

  It felt pretty damn shitty. Not because Amanda was a girl, but because he felt pretty damn shitty.

  “This is no good. I want to hear you.” Todd ripped off the tape.

  It stung, but on the scale of injuries Greg had endured tonight, it barely registered. Mouth free, he sucked in large gulps of air, coughing in his zeal.

  Maybe.

  This little extra freedom gave him hope. If he could somehow convince Todd to let him fight back...

  A long shot, but the only one he had. He didn’t recognize the concrete path—there were so many downtown and his brain was still running at about fifteen percent—or the surrounding woods. But it didn’t matter where they were. No one was coming to his rescue.

  If he was going to see tomorrow, it was up to him. He had to get out of this. He hadn’t told Amanda he loved her.

  Armed with singular purpose, he raised his head, ignoring the vertigo nearly flooring him. He opened his mouth, although he didn’t know exactly what he would say.

  “Any last words, asshole?” Todd asked.

  Sure, why not? “Tell your sister I love her.”

  The heel of Todd’s boot sent Greg’s head snapping back to the cement. Warm and sticky, blood flowed down his chin.

  Somewhere it occurred to him it was a bad sign he felt barely any pain from that last blow.

  Never mind the hope. What a foolish notion. He was going to die never telling Amanda how he felt.

  Al swung his car into the parking lot of the zoo. “OK. Where are we headed.”

  Where would Todd take Greg? Somewhere deserted, but this time of night, that was the whole area.

  “Near where we found my stepmom, but not as exposed. In the trees somewhere, I think.”

  Al swung toward Amanda, one eyebrow cocked. “You think? I thought you knew. You said it had to be here.”

  She wanted to pace. Or run. Something to ease the frustration crawling over her.

  Think, Amanda. Dammit, think!

  “It’s a big area. I don’t know exactly where Todd would take him. There wasn’t one specific place Karen tortured us. It was kind of an all the time thing.” She threw off her seatbelt and kicked open the door but it didn't come close to stilling her restlessness.

  “Jesus fucking Christ, Schreiber.”

  “Not helping.” She closed her eyes and tried to sink into memories. Where was the worst humiliation Karen inflicted on them?

  “Either by the pavilion or the roller coaster.”

  “Would he risk breaking in to the zoo and getting caught by their security?” Al nodded in that direction.

  “Pavillion it is.” She started jogging in that direction.

  Smythe and Jordan pulled into the lot. Both officers were immediately out of their car and following.

  “When we find them,” Amanda’s words came out breathless as they hurried over the lot, “you guys stay out of sight. I want Todd to think I’m alone."

  “I don’t like it,” Al said.

  “I don’t care.”

  “I’m not going to sit and watch that motherfucker kill my partner.”

  “You think I have any intention of letting him kill me?” Amanda shot a look at Al over her shoulder. His face was screwed up in uncharacteristic concern. Something inside her softened, just a little, just for a moment. She forced it to harden. No time for soft now.

  “You don’t have to put me out of sight. Just stay out of his. Hide behind a rock or a tree.”

  “Detectives,” Jordan said.

  Amanda looked over her shoulder to see Jordan had stopped at the turn onto the trail. He waved his flashlight over the ground.

  “What?” Al’s impatience came through loud and clear.

  “Tire tracks.” Jordan continued to illuminate the pavement. It revealed faint but noticeable dirt in the pattern of tire treads.

  Smythe flipped on his light and followed the tracks along the path behind the zoo.

  “Get those beams out of sight.” Amanda pulled a penlight out of her jacket and bent to study the tracks. At such an awkward angle, progress slowed. But the marks were new. The smell of freshly-disturbed sod teased her nose.

  As they approached the pavilion, Al grabbed her arm. “Listen,” he whispered.

  Straining against the silence, she waited.

  A grunt. Coughing. An angry voice drifted through the night. Too far away to make out the words, but she recognized it.

  Todd.

  Chapter 31

  Greg’s vision came and went. Stubbornly, his consciousness hung on. His whole body cried in misery, from the odd position, from the repeated kicks. There might have been a few slices with a knife but he wasn’t lucid enough to be certain. His pain was so complete, he barely distinguished the individual blows.

  He tried to speak but the words didn’t make it past his swollen tongue. All he could do was grunt and groan and cry. The agony was all-encompassing. He didn’t care if he sobbed like a baby. He just wanted it to end.

  He would never get to tell Amanda he loved her. Never get to make love to her again. Never get to hold her hand or touch her face or see her smile.

  Never get to look into her beautiful eyes.

  And then, suddenly, he was looking into those eyes. Was she an angel? Had she come to take him away?

  She wasn’t smiling. Her beautiful eyes pulsed with fury and despair. She looked more upset than he’d ever seen her. She couldn’t be an angel, then. Angels were happy. They floated and sang and played harps.

  No, don’t be upset. He tried to reach for her.

  Pain shot up his thigh. His vision blurred. Amanda was gone.

  Had he imagined her? Likely.

  “Let him go, Todd.”

  Her voice. Or was he imagining that too?

  “Anahah.” Dammit, that was supposed to be Amanda.

  “Fuck you,” Todd snarled.

  Greg’s hair nearly ripped from his skull. His head jerked back and slammed against Todd’s chest. He balanced precariously on one kn
ee.

  Todd pinned his arm across Greg’s neck. Greg struggled to breathe. His arms tugged against his bindings, wanting to grab Todd’s arm and yank it away.

  Greg’s vision kicked back in just in time to see a knife coming at him. Todd pressed the tip to Greg’s jugular. If he moved even slightly, it would slice his skin and he would bleed to death in the grass.

  Fuck.

  “You win, Todd,” Amanda said. As livid as she looked, she sounded calm.

  No. You can’t let him win. I’m going to die anyway. Take him down.

  But Greg didn’t bother trying to speak. The movement would hasten his death and the words would come out gibberish anyway.

  At least some rational part of his brain still worked. Yippie.

  Amanda trained her gun on Todd but there was no way she could take a shot, justified though it would be. As long as Greg was Todd’s human shield, Amanda wouldn’t risk it.

  But if she had the shot, she would do it. She would kill her own brother to save Greg. That much was clear in her hard expression. The hatred in her eyes.

  She shouldn't have that on her conscience, but he couldn’t form words to tell her.

  “Put the knife down, Todd. Let Greg go. I’ll help you. We’ll go to Mexico.” Even as she said the words, her gun didn’t waver.

  Surely she didn’t mean it. There was no way the woman he’d fallen in love with would turn herself into a fugitive to help a killer. Not with that look on her face.

  Did Todd buy into the lie that his sister would help him? Or, like Greg, could he see her determination to bring Todd down, no matter the personal cost?

  Todd shifted, taking Greg with him. The movement gave Amanda a better angle. She was an excellent markswoman and there was a good chance she could hit Todd and spare Greg.

  Don’t do it, Amanda. Don’t do it.

  If Greg could maneuver himself back into the line of fire, there was no way she’d be able to take the shot. It would be too risky.

  He had to get himself back between them. How did he shift without Todd slitting his throat?

  If he were more lucid, he would probably be more concerned with the ridiculousness of trying to put himself in the path of a bullet to shield a madman. But he couldn’t let Amanda sacrifice herself. Not for him and certainly not for Todd.

  Movement to the south caught his attention. Mindful of the knife, he shifted his gaze.

  Voegler.

  Almost entirely hidden behind a boulder, the muzzle of Voegler’s gun and a sliver of his face were visible.

  Greg stared, doing his best to make his glare palpable. And when Voegler met his eyes and recognition flickered, Greg hoped his message got across. Voegler had to be the one to take the shot. Which was just fucking wonderful. Voegler's inability to hit his target was legendary in the department. But what other choice was there?

  Greg’s dad said he’d wished for years he’d been the one to take down Phil’s killer. Wished he’d been there when Gorkey was arrested so the punk could have given him any excuse to use his weapon and kill the bastard. But over the years, Irvin wised up. He realized he wouldn't have been able to live with the guilt. It didn’t matter how justified the killing. He would be killing for revenge.

  It may be his last act on this earth, but Greg would make damn sure Amanda never had to question her motives.

  Maybe it was his imagination, but it looked like Voegler nodded.

  Now, how did he get Todd to move into a position where Voegler had a clean shot? A shot even Voegler couldn’t miss.

  They were fucked.

  “I will kill him.” Todd slid the knife along the underside of Greg’s chin.

  Greg sucked in his breath but that didn’t prevent the blade from slicing skin. A yelp escaped as the sting shot through his head. It was like a thousand concentrated papercuts. His vision blurred again.

  Unable to hold himself up any longer, he dropped his weight onto Todd’s arm. The side of the blade pressed Greg’s jaw and the edge nicked his skin.

  Make it a million papercuts. Holy fuck. His body shuddered and convulsed.

  Todd lost his hold. Greg hit the ground. Pain shot up his shoulder, then his skull, but he barely noticed.

  A gunshot exploded into the silence.

  Events simultaneously went into fast forward and slow motion. Amanda could swear she saw Todd go down before she heard the gunshot.

  He shrieked and stumbled to his knees. The knife flew as he lost his grip and used his right hand to clutch his bleeding left shoulder.

  “Motherfucker,” Al yelled. “I had that shot.”

  Amanda launched herself at Todd. They’d never been siblings who physically fought, but in that moment she wished she could pound on him. Beat the living shit out of him the way Gabby and her older brother did as kids.

  Instead she planted her foot between Todd’s shoulder blades and used it to shove him face-first to the ground. He howled. Good. Let him howl. Let him bleed. If they were lucky, he would bleed to death. The cretin didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as good, decent citizens.

  “Smythe! Jordan!” she yelled as she wrenched Todd’s left arm behind his back. If she pulled a little harder than was necessary as she handcuffed him, who the hell cared?

  “I’m shot!” Todd wailed. “I need medical attention.”

  Amanda cinched the right cuff a little too tight. Let him sue.

  “You can sit here in the dirt and bleed to death like the scum you are,” Amanda hissed in his ear. “You’re lucky Al was the one who shot you. Because I would have put the bullet in your shriveled black heart. You’d be in a body bag, not handcuffs.”

  “You’ll be sorry you didn’t help me.” Todd’s words came out a moan.

  “No. I won’t. Ever.” Looking at him, she wasn't even sorry she hadn’t been able to help him years ago. He was a vile waste of oxygen, not worthy of her concern.

  Repulsed by his nearness, she moved away, careful not to be mindful of his wound.

  “Get him out of here,” she told Smythe and Jordan. “Make sure the sick fuck doesn’t have any more syringes or knives on him.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Jordan said as Smythe pulled Todd to his feet.

  “Come on, son. Let’s get you a towel. Can’t have you bleeding all over the back of my cruiser.” Smythe held Todd with one hand on his handcuffs, the other on his good shoulder. Jordan followed closely behind.

  The wail of an ambulance cut through the night.

  “We’ll direct them to you,” Jordan called as they disappeared.

  Tension and excitement from capturing Todd fading, adrenaline started leaking from Amanda’s system. It left her cold, trembling and terrified to turn her attention to the other man bleeding on the ground.

  So she went with another thought prowling the back of her mind, a much less significant but much easier to deal with thought.

  “What the hell was that?” She focused her attention on Al, squatting next to an unmoving Greg.

  Al didn’t look up from where he pressed his palm to Greg’s neck.

  Oh God. No. Nononononono!

  “That was me taking down a killer. That was me taking the shot you didn’t have.”

  “I had the shot.”

  “I didn’t want you to lose your nerve and shoot to wound.”

  Amanda laughed, hysteria bubbling through her mind. “What do you think you did?” Her legs turned rubbery and she dropped to the ground.

  She hadn't yet looked at Greg. Suddenly freezing, she hugged herself.

  Al glowered. “That was a kill shot.”

  From anyone except Al, she wouldn’t believe it. “You know you’re a lousy shot. Why the hell did you take it?”

  “I didn’t want you shooting to kill, either, OK?” Al snapped. “I don’t want you to have that on your conscience.”

  Oh.

  Well then. Tears burned her lids but she wouldn’t let them fall. There would be way too much opportunity in the coming days. She couldn’t tell the
extent of Greg’s injuries, but they were significant. He would need more than a few stitches and an ibuprofen before he could go home.

  She fanned her face, trying to dry the unshed tears. “Screw you,” she choked out.

  “Yeah, fuck you too.” Al’s voice was soft with affection.

  “He’s right.”

  Greg’s voice was so weak and his words so garbled, she almost missed them.

  Crawling across the grass to him, she finally looked at his bruised, bleeding face. His eyes barely opened.

  Oh God. Her gut twisted and see-sawed and clenched and almost emptied.

  The night had fallen silent. No more sirens. The paramedics would be there any second.

  “Could you two please stop bickering and help a fallen brother?” he croaked.

  Amanda took his hand with a shaky laugh. Al had cut the ropes off him and she could see the abrasions on his wrist. “I’m sorry.” For so many things.

  “I love you.”

  Activity flourished around them as two EMTs arrived with a stretcher. A short, thick black man set his bag next to Greg’s head and wedged himself between Greg and Amanda. “Excuse me.”

  She let Al pull her to her feet and guide her away so the EMTs could work. She watched, unseeing, as they did their thing.

  “He’s not going to die.” Al’s voice was barely a whisper, his hand on her shoulder a comfort she needed.

  “What?” She was still trying to process the last thing Greg said.

  “What he said.” Al nodded toward Greg. “It’s not the only chance he’ll have to say it.”

  Amanda’s heart pulsed in her throat. Al heard it too. She wasn't having auditory hallucinations.

  I love you too, Greg.

  And she would tell him the instant those stupid paramedics left him alone.

  Those stupid paramedics lifted him onto the stretcher and started down the path.

  “Amanda.” Greg’s voice was dry and raspy. He reached out a hand bearing an IV line.

  She started after him. Except she and Al still had work to do. Even if this wasn’t her case, she had to make a statement, or file a report, or do something.