Another camera came to life, this one showing the woods behind me. Spider moved into view, sighted his weapon and took aim.
In the oak, Bram followed suit.
Give them a shot, my mind directed. I dropped to the ground, and a second later, a bullet pulsated above me.
The Russian screamed, and his semiautomatic fell as he clutched his bloody, dangling hand.
I scrambled for the firearm, stumbled up and moved back to the garage wall, covering the wounded man and careful to stay out of Spider’s line of fire.
Like a vengeful dark angel, Spider reached the Russian, threw him onto his stomach, and cuffed him, left hand to left foot, right foot to left foot, in a three-point hogtie. Then he bound the injured arm tightly to the man’s chest with his belt.
The assailant moaned in pain, but Spider ignored him.
Bram emerged from the trees, racing to the back of the house while—Bobbie? Am I hallucinating?—came around the other side of the farmhouse, pistol in his grip.
Bram shouted, “If you bastards can hear me, don’t move. If you can’t hear me, it’s your problem. I’ll gladly save the county the cost of a trial.”
Spider positioned himself to one side of the still-stunned three at the back of the house.
“One at a time, Bobbie,” called Bram, “and don’t get between them and me.”
Bobbie grabbed zip ties from his jacket pocket and, one by one, flipped each assailant to his stomach and cuffed him as Spider had done. Once the trio was secured, Bobbie dragged the injured man to lie with his comrades.
“Which one’s Artur?” Spider asked me, his voice tight and cold enough to freeze air in July.
“The guy nearest the tree line.” I swallowed hard, knowing the rage that had burned inside me at the deadly force Artur so coldly promised against Spider’s children and Aunt Terry. How much more hotly must it flare in their father! “Don’t kill him, Spider. We need him alive to exonerate Mick.”
“Too damn bad,” he muttered. When he reached Artur, he performed a careful search and set aside a gun and a wicked-looking knife.
A Korshun? I wondered.
Spider rolled Artur onto his back and bent down, face-to-face, speaking words I could not hear. When Artur spat, Spider’s fist connected with the killer’s cheek. With a sharp craaack, Artur’s head snapped to the side. Spider rose. “That’s for threatening my family,” he said as he towered above Artur. “It would be much worse for you if Angie didn’t need you.”
He and Bobbie finished searching the others while Bram stood sentinel. In the end, a pile of guns and knives lay alongside the jerry cans.
A surreal sense of detachment engulfed me, as if I were a spectator to the events that played out before me… until a wave of dizziness began to roll over me, and I reached out a hand to find support.
Spider quickly materialized at my side. “Y’okay?” He helped me to a sitting position. “Adrenaline overload. Totally normal.” He crouched and his voice softened. “You did great, Angie.” His hand gently rubbed my back in circles. “I will owe you forever. Now put your head down and breathe while I clear the house and get the kids and your aunt outta the safe room.”
Bobbie took his place next to me and put an arm across my shoulders. “You were awesome, Angie, but I have to tell you, I just about passed out when Bram got the call from Spider. We were at the shooting range together.”
“Good thing.” It emerged as a croak that morphed into a squeak. “Sorry. Vocal cords are tight.”
“Everything on me is tight,” Bobbie said, “except for a particular area that feels damn loose. I’m trying not to let go. No change of underwear.”
I started to giggle, and then the laughs turned to tears as Bobbie held me. Wukowski will be so upset at me putting myself in harm’s way, I thought, but oh, it will be lovely to be alive and let him rage.
Chapter 54
For this relief, much thanks.
William Shakespeare
With Bobbie’s hand under my elbow, I managed to rise and toddle forward on unsteady legs. Inside the kitchen, Aunt Terry rushed to me, intoning, “Thank you, Lord. Oh, thank you,” again and again as she enveloped me in her embrace.
I concentrated on my breath. In… out… repeat. It took several iterations before my heart stopped straining hard against my chest and my windpipe unlocked. “I need to sit down,” I told her. Bobbie pulled out a chair, and I gracelessly plopped into it.
From the basement stairs, Joey, Gabriella, and Daniel emerged, engulfed in their father’s arms.
He gazed at me over their heads. “Angie, Terry, I can never thank you enough. You saved the most precious things in life to me and Magda.” His normally impassive eyes filled with tears.
Before I could start to bawl, Joey shouted, “We played the best game of intwudah hide-and-seek evah, didn’t we, Daddy?”
Spider kissed the top of his head. “You sure did, Joey. The very best.” Easing back to look him in the face while still maintaining his fierce embrace, Spider said, “And thanks for showing Miss Angie what to do, because I never played the game with her, son.”
In a little boy voice, Joey asked, “Is Mommy heah?”
“Real soon,” Spider assured his mini-me.
I turned to Aunt Terry, whose expression reflected the exhaustion I felt. “You were a rock,” I told her.
She gave a wan smile and said, “I think that accolade belongs to you.”
“Then let’s agree to share it.”
Spider put the twins in their high chairs and produced bottles from the fridge. While he waited for them to warm in a pan of hot water, he produced a cup for Joey.
“I called in the assault. We don’t have much time before the SWAT team arrives,” Spider told us. “They’ll be on high alert. Any unexpected movement or sound can trigger a defensive response, so I want you all upstairs in the master bedroom while Bobbie and I go back outside and wait with Bram. We can defuse the situation.” With the expertise that only comes from caring for little ones, he tested the temperature of the twins’ bottles. “Just right,” he said. “Angie, Terry, would you each take a baby and a bottle?” Lifting Joey onto his shoulders, he led the way, and Aunt Terry and I followed him upstairs.
I held Gabriella as she drowsily sucked on her bottle, her intermittent breaths tickling my neck. Daniel’s head lolled against Aunt Terry’s shoulder. We gently eased them onto the big king-size bed, piling pillows around them for safety.
“I’ll let the SWAT leader know you’re in here, Angie. They’ll send someone up once they’ve secured the scene outside. Just stay put and keep away from the windows.” Swinging Joey down to the floor, he placed a hand on the child’s shoulders and said, “Listen to everything Miss Angie tells you, Joey, and do exactly as she says. Got it?”
“Got it,” the affirmative reply rang out.
“How about you sit with Miss Terry where Mommy likes to read to you, while I give Miss Angie a few more directions.”
Before Spider could rise, the boy’s arms wrapped around his father’s neck. “You won’t go away, Daddy, wight?”
“I’ll be right outside. I need to tell the police about the bad guys. Is that okay with you, buddy?”
“Pwomise?”
“Cross my heart and…” He couldn’t complete the phrase. We’d all been too close to death tonight. “I promise,” he finished.
Aunt Terry took Joey’s hand and said, “Let’s grab your pajamas and toothbrush from your room so you can get comfy. We need to be very quick.”
“Like a bunny,” Joey said, and he raced down the hallway and back before Aunt Terry could call to him to wait.
Spider pulled me aside. “I have some pretty special equipment in the safe room. I’d like it if you told the police that you hid out in the office. It will simplify things for you as well. But I don’t want to force you into a position you feel uncomfortable about.”
“No problem,” I said. “I’ve told bigger lies. I’ll let Aunt Terry know.�
�
With a hug and a whispered “you’re the best,” Spider turned and glided down the stairs. I heard the front door shut quietly.
When the nighttime rituals were complete, Aunt Terry directed Joey to the plush love seat in the reading alcove. “Why don’t we have a story?” she said and selected the top book from a nearby basket.
With a fist pump, Joey proclaimed, “Captain Undahpants—yay!”
My cell phone still resided on the kitchen counter downstairs, but a digital clock on one of the bedside tables read 09:37. How can that be? It was closing in on eight o’clock when the assault team first entered the driveway. The eternity of terror belied the reality of the time it lasted.
I located a thick, folded quilt in the walk-in closet and sank down to the floor, next to the bed. With my head resting on the mattress, I listened to the twins’ even breathing.
Soon the police would come up to interview me and Aunt Terry.
I ran through my story. Hearing the driveway alarm. Seeing the vehicle enter from the road. Armed men piling out. Rushing the children into the home office. Listening as footsteps pounded up the stairs. A man ramming against the hard steel surface. Metal on metal. Angry words, shouted in a foreign language. My cell phone on the kitchen counter. Waiting. Trying to distract the children. Unsure when it would be safe to leave. Hearing the lock’s mechanism click and Spider’s voice calling us to come out.
Keep it simple, I told myself. Embellishments will only trip you up.
Chapter 55
A lie would have no sense unless the truth were felt as dangerous.
Alfred Adler
“Ma’am?” came a quiet voice.
I bolted awake, my heart racing. A heavy-duty flashlight rested on the bedside table. I lunged, yanked it into my hand and stood, brandishing it like a club.
The uniformed officer raised her hands, palms toward me, and said, “Ms. Bonaparte, it’s okay. I’m Sergeant Mallow from the Delafield Police Department.”
Feeling extremely sheepish, I placed my erstwhile weapon back on the tabletop. The clock ticked over to 10:29. “Sorry, Sergeant. I… uh… dozed off and you startled me. It’s been an extremely stressful night.” That was akin to labeling double pneumonia a bit of a cold.
“Absolutely understandable, ma’am.”
I sank onto the bed, careful not to disturb the sleeping babies. “Call me Angie,” I said. “I really hate being ma’am-ed.”
She glanced around the bedroom. “The older boy? And your aunt?”
“In the alcove over there.”
Aunt Terry slowly emerged, rubbing her eyes. “Here I am,” she said. “Joey’s asleep on the love seat. I hope you don’t have to wake him until his mother arrives.”
Mallow, a thirty-something woman with kind eyes, smiled. “I doubt that will be necessary. First I need to ask if any of you sustained injuries.”
“No, we’re all okay… physically,” I told her.
She acknowledged the limitation of my statement. “It’s likely you’ll experience some level of PTSD following this ordeal. The department can recommend counselors who are trained to help with that. Now”—she withdrew a small recording device from her shirt pocket—“I’d like you to give me a brief statement of events.”
“Let me put the little ones in their cribs,” Aunt Terry said. “It’s so easy for them to roll off a bed.”
“Of course,” said Mallow. “I can start with you, Angie.”
As Aunt Terry ferried first Daniel and then Gabriella out of the room, I related the story that I’d concocted before I fell asleep, keeping details to a minimum.
Aunt Terry returned, checked on Joey, and then sat next to me on the bed.
When it was time for her statement of events, she shrugged and said, “I’m sure my niece’s account is accurate. I was too scared and preoccupied with the children. My brain seems a bit fried. I can’t recall any details.”
Clicking off the recorder, Mallow said, “That’s very common.” From her shirt pocket, she retrieved two business cards and placed them on the bed. “I don’t think I need more from you.” Voices sounded from the kitchen and she half turned. “The lieutenant has finished preliminary interviews with Mr. Mulcahey, Mr. York, and Mr. Russell. You’re free to go downstairs now.”
“You go,” I urged Aunt Terry. “I’ll keep watch over Joey.”
From the stairway, a softly accented voice spoke. “I’m home, Angie. Let me look in on my babies and I’ll be right with you.”
After a minute, Magdalena entered the master bedroom and moved swiftly to the alcove. When she returned to us, tears were welling out of her eyes and rolling down her cheeks. Enveloping me in a mama bear hug, she whispered, “Gracias a Dios, my children are safe. You are safe.” She reached out to pull Aunt Terry into the embrace. “I have no words. Nothing is enough to thank you. Nothing.”
We stood in that tight circle, enclosed in a mother’s love and distress, for long moments. Then Aunt Terry shifted and pulled away slightly. “I, too, thank God for our deliverance, Magdalena. And for the fierce courage of my niece. I promise you, no one would have made it past her to harm your children. She was a lioness tonight.”
“Any mother, any grandmother would do the same,” I told them. “Now, if you don’t mind, I need a restorative cup of tea.”
Spider popped his spiky head around the doorframe. “Bobbie’s brewing it right now,” he said. “Querida, I’ll carry Joey to bed.”
“No, Len. He must see me. He must know I am here, or he will wake with nightmares.” She slipped away, and in moments, we heard Joey say, “Mommy” in a tiny voice.
Aunt Terry twined her arm with mine and guided me to the stairs.
Chapter 56
The longest road out is the shortest road home.
Irish Proverb
Bobbie and Bram sat at the kitchen table, drinking delicious-smelling coffee and munching from a plate of Magda’s homemade cookies. In moments, Spider joined us and poured tea for me and Aunt Terry.
I found it strangely uncomfortable to look him and Bram in the eyes. They’d been prepared and ready to kill. Knowing their special-ops backgrounds, I supposed that reality had always been in my head, but tonight I witnessed firsthand what it meant. And remembering the ferocity of my response after tossing the flash-bangs, how could I fail to acknowledge my own deep rage?
As if he could read my thoughts, Bram spoke, his tone matter-of-fact. “You went through a lot tonight, Angie.”
After a long silence, I looked at him. “Yes, I did. But… that’s past. I’m grateful that you arrived when you did. Artur would never stop coming, never stop seeking what we’d found, even though we don’t understand why.”
I pictured Spider’s precious little children or his wife, used as collateral to force us to hand over what Artur wanted. For that matter, my kids or grandkids could fill that same function, I realized with a shock. Or Aunt Terry. Or Papa—although I pitied the man who tried to take out that tough old Don. And Debby, always looking over her shoulder? And Rebecca? Whenever I heard the word “evil,” I would always see Artur’s face.
“You did the right thing,” I told Spider and Bram. “It might have been a bloodbath.”
“To be honest, Angie, if you hadn’t disabled them, it would have been.” Spider’s tone mirrored Bram’s, as if he were observing how nice the weather would be tomorrow.
Wanting to avoid his reality, I asked, “What’s next?”
“I had a word with the SWAT team leader,” Spider told us. “Pointed him to the FBI and the killing in Illinois. Of course, we can’t know for sure that Artur is involved, but I’d bet my last dollar that the Feds already have him on a watch list. We’ll have to see how it plays out.” He bit into a cookie.
“If they decide to tell us,” Bram said.
“Did you give Mick’s samples to the SWAT team?” I asked. “I can send them a copy of his note.”
“Not their area of expertise,” Spider responded.
&n
bsp; “Then I’ll let Wukowski handle it,” I told him. “Once the flames stop shooting out of his nose, that is.”
Bobbie snorted. “I’ll tell him how you handled yourself tonight. He’ll be too scared to take you on.”
“You were a warrior, Angie.” Bram lifted his coffee cup and the other two followed.
From upstairs, Magdalena called softly down. “Take cookies home with you. That will mellow him. It always works with Len.”
Tears started to form, but I blinked them back.
With a glance at Bobbie, Bram said, “It’s been a long, rough night. Ready to head out? I’ll drop you at your car and take Terry and Angie home.”
Home. Shelter. Safety. Such simple words, but with so much power.
Chapter 57
The best and most beautiful things in this world cannot be seen or even heard, but must be felt with the heart.
Helen Keller
Bram insisted on following me upstairs to my front door to “secure the premises.” We entered and he proceeded down the hallway, weapon at the low ready, as I hung my jacket in the coat closet.
“Wukowski, I almost shot your damn head off,” I heard him growl from the living room.
“Same for you, York.” Wukowski’s voice was a deep bass.
I paced into the room, looking from one man to the other. “I’m strung so tight that I can’t stand myself. And tired beyond belief. The last thing I need is a face-off between you two.” Approaching Bram, I placed a chaste kiss on his cheek and said, “Thanks for coming to the rescue.”
He shot a stern look at Wukowski and said, “Helluva night. Don’t make it worse.” Without another word, he let himself out.
Wukowski laid his gun on the coffee table and followed Bram.
I heard the lock and dead bolt slide into place before he came back to me. Please don’t tell me all the reasons I didn’t belong in that situation, I thought.
With his hands on my shoulders, he stooped down and examined me. “You’re all done in, kochana. There’s a hot bath waiting for you and a glass of wine next to it.” He kissed me gently and aimed me toward the en suite.
Blood Kills Page 17
