by Tom Hogan
“Half?”
“Let’s say you’re being threatened and you have access to your pistol. And all of a sudden, despite all the training and target-shooting, you realize that, if you pull that trigger, that person will be dead. Or you visualize the damage the bullet is going to do and you freeze, because you’re not ready for chunks of that person to explode or get torn off.”
She looked down into her lap and nodded to herself. Then she looked back up at him. “So how do I prepare myself for something like that?”
“Get Cavanaugh to show you the corpse of someone who’s been shot—let’s say a head shot that did a lot of damage. You don’t need to be comfortable with it, but you can’t be afraid of it.”
“Okay. I’ll talk to Cavanaugh. But I’ll also want to know all the other techniques you were talking about, in case I can’t get to my purse in time.”
“Whenever you’re ready. If you want, we’ll start tomorrow. Now what else did you want to talk about?”
“Tonight at the bar, I was watching the couples. Most of them I knew, like Tony and Heather. I envied how comfortable they were with each other and I wondered if I’m ever going to feel that comfortable with a man again.”
She looked down at her lap. “I feel bruised, Josh. Down here. I don’t know if it’s real or psychosomatic, but I don’t know if I’m ever going to feel better.”
“You will. That’s one thing I can tell you that I’m sure of.”
She nodded. “If that’s true, then I want to start now.” She moved over. “I want you to lie down with me.”
He grimaced. “I’d rather not.”
“I know you’d rather not. But I’m asking anyway. This isn’t about sex. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready for that.” She stopped. “I hate hearing myself say that—it’s like Paul took something else from me—but it’s true.”
The bed whispered as she kept sliding over. “This is about intimacy.” Her voice thickened. “I feel like I’m shutting down a little more each day, and I want to stop it before it gets permanent.”
The chair creaked as Josh lifted himself. He stopped next to the bed and looked down at her. “I’m no good at this.”
“There’s no good or bad. Just lie down.”
Josh lowered himself onto the bed, coming to rest in a seated position. Alexis smiled. “Under the covers. And lie down, goddamn it.”
He did as he was told. Alexis patted her hand twice on his chest. “Thank you.” She rolled onto her side and put her head on Josh’s chest. He stiffened but stayed where he was. Alexis reached up, took his arm, and placed it around her shoulders.
“Thanks,” she whispered. “You’re a good friend.” Five minutes later, she was asleep, her head rising and falling gently with Josh’s breathing.
CHAPTER 50
For the next eight nights Josh shared Alexis’s bed, Alexis sleeping fitfully, Josh rarely, if at all. Twice during those nights she made it through the night without the recurring nightmare about the rape, but most nights the dreams came, sometimes more than once. If the sleep was light, she often didn’t wake up, whimpering and twitching her feet and arms, like a dog having a bad dream. But if she was deep in sleep, the nightmare hit hard. She would stop breathing, then her eyes would fling open and she would grab the front of Josh’s t-shirt in a death grip. Her throat would constrict, emitting a low, guttural moan and she would burrow into his side. Josh would relax his grip on her shoulder and rub the small of her back in small circles. He would maintain the soothing activity until she either went back to sleep or stood up and headed for the shower, at which time he retreated to his cabin and tried to get a couple of hours of sleep before joining Clark for the day’s work.
The search for Paul was in its third week; even Cavanaugh was showing signs of defeat. The story had moved from the newspapers and televisions to the inner pages and then to the post office walls. The only positive, as Cavanaugh told Josh, was that the hysteria had died down, both in terms of the phantom sightings and the possibility that a trigger-happy cop might overreact.
One night, just after Josh had turned off the light, Alexis moved so that her head was in the crook of Josh’s arm and not on his chest. “Josh?”
“Hmm.”
“When you say you’ve never been with a woman before, that doesn’t just mean sex, it means something like this. What we’re doing right now. Correct?”
“Correct.”
“Well, then, I envy you. Because if you ever do wind up loving someone and letting them into your life in an intimate way, you’ll be old and smart enough to appreciate what’s happening.” She smiled. “I don’t remember my first kiss. I do know that Jerry Reynolds was the first guy I had sex with, but that was just five forgettable minutes. Things happen quickly and blend together when you’re young. But you…you’ll be aware of things as they happen and afterwards you’ll remember everything.”
The heavy night air seemed to wrap itself around the bed. Josh closed his eyes. “Am I really missing that much?”
“Yeah, you are. I mean, sex by itself is a helluva lot of fun. But it’s afterward, whether you’re curled up and just nodding off to sleep or you wind up talking, it’s a feeling that goes deep. And if you find the right person, each time takes you a little deeper.”
She put her head back on his chest. “You know what worries me the most? That I’m never going to have that feeling again.”
After dinner that night, as Josh and Lucky were doing the dishes, the phone in the L rang. Donna answered it, asked one question, then waved to Josh. Drying his hands on his pants, he raised his eyebrows as he approached.
“Cavanaugh,” Donna mouthed. As he took the receiver, she whispered, “They found Paul.”
“Wayne?…Is he alive?…Where?…So what happened?” He listened without responding for over two minutes, his body sagging into itself. He leaned against the doorway and put his head on the frame. “Okay, what do you need from me?” He listened for a moment. “No, if they don’t know where the camp is, they’ll miss it. You know The Gimp’s? Yeah, the bar. I’ll be there in twenty.”
He was about to hang up, then he pulled the receiver back. “Wayne, you still there? I know it’s not your jurisdiction but tell them that this doesn’t have to get any worse than it already is.” He listened some more. “I know, especially when it’s one of their own. Maybe they’ll listen to you, because they sure as hell won’t listen to me.” He nodded into the receiver. “Just do what you can.”
He hung up and turned to the waiting faces. “He’s in Santa Barbara. A cop stopped him, simple traffic violation. But Paul panicked. I don’t know if he had a gun or grabbed the cop’s, but either way, he shot him.” He breathed slowly. “He shot a cop. He tried to escape but another black and white arrived on the scene. So he ran into the nearest house and barricaded himself.”
“Alone?” William asked.
“A mother and her little girl.”
“How’s the guy he shot?” Clark asked.
“Still alive, but critical.”
“How do things stand now?” Donna asked.
“All Cavanaugh said was that they reached Paul by phone and he said he wanted to talk to me, that they’d better get me down there if they didn’t want anyone else to get hurt. So Cavanaugh’s got a plane warming up and a unit on the way to The Gimp’s.”
“You want me to come with you?” Donna asked. “It’ll keep them honest if they’re getting trigger-happy.”
Josh hesitated, then shook his head. “Not yet. I need the cops on my side, and you’re still a bit of a red flag. I’ll call you from the scene.” Then he left.
He went to his cabin, threw a handful of clothes in an old leather satchel, and turned to leave. Alexis stood in the doorway, a small bag at her feet. “I’m going with you.”
“No. I’m sorry, but no.”
“You’re not cal
ling the shots here, Josh. I drive, I’m down there in four hours, tops. Or I fly with you. Either way, I’m going.”
“This is my brother’s life we’re talking about.
“Mine, too. Remember? You tell me—if the situation were reversed, would you be content to just sit up here?” She looked at his face. “I didn’t think so.” She nodded at the door. “So am I flying or driving?”
Josh stared at her, his face hard. Then he picked up her bag with his free hand and motioned for her to get the door.
The Gimp met them at the front door with two steaming cups of coffee in large styrofoam cups. “Good luck,” he said and eased the door shut as the black and white pulled into the parking lot.
They sat in the back of the unit. The driver turned on the red and blue flashers but kept the siren off. “The lieutenant’s waiting at the airport. He’ll be flying down with you. Says you’ll be on the ground in Santa Barbara in less than an hour.” They rode the rest of the way in silence, the unit making good time even on the mountain section of the highway. Alexis took Josh’s hand, but if he noticed her touch, he gave no indication.
They bypassed the Kinsella terminal and slowed as they approached the gates behind the terminal. The driver honked twice and the gates slid open, a man in overalls motioning them through. A twin-engine eight-seater police plane was warming up, Cavanaugh next to the steps, talking on a radio. He shook Josh’s hand and nodded past Josh to Alexis.
“Sounds good, Captain. His brother just arrived—we’re on-site in less than an hour. Get the word in to him, okay? And if it starts to go south, or if he wants to talk to his brother, you can reach me on this frequency.”
He stepped aside from the stairs and motioned Alexis to board. As she passed him, he caught Josh’s eye and nodded towards her. “Your idea?”
“Hers.” And he was past Cavanaugh and up the stairs.
The pilot pulled up the stairs behind them. Three minutes later, they were airborne, banking gently to the left and headed for Santa Barbara.
Ten minutes before landing, Cavanaugh was summoned to the cockpit for a call from the Santa Barbara PD. He returned a few moments and sat down across from Josh.
“Okay, here’s the play. The residence’s been secured and they’re waiting on us.”
“Meaning SWAT.”
“It’s a hostage situation, Josh. You know the rules. But they’re holding off on any assault until you get there.”
“What’s Paul say he want?”
“Nothing except that he wants to talk to you. In the house, not over a bullhorn.”
“How’s the officer he shot?”
“Still in surgery.”
“How about the people inside with him?”
“So far, so good. They’re all sitting in the living room, according to him. In the line of fire, he added.”
“How’s he sound? In control or panicking?”
“In control, according to the negotiator. But that’s for now. If that changes, they’re going in.” He paused. “Also, the press is there.”
It was a repeat of the ride down the mountain—no siren, flashing lights—but this time the speed approached eighty. Cavanaugh sat up front, spending most of the ride on the phone. The little girl was hungry, he reported, so Josh would be bringing in sandwiches and drinks. Paul had put the mother on and she had reported that they were safe and would stay that way as long as the police stayed out.
The car pulled up to a barrier. The driver identified himself and nodded towards the back seat. The car entered the cordoned area, its lights off, and came to rest next to a nondescript, mid-green van. The van doors were open, revealing a wall lined with rifles, each with a night scope.
“Jesus,” Josh said under his breath.
Alexis gripped his arm. “Just bring him out and all this goes away.”
Josh nodded absently and exited the car. Cavanaugh was already out, talking to an officer in fatigues. The two men were pointing at different parts of the house, Cavanaugh nodding at each sequence. The reconnaissance done, Cavanaugh motioned Josh over.
“Josh, this is Captain Bill Logan, SBPD. It’s his scene.”
The two shook hands. “We’ve got no desire to go in there, Mr. Clements, unless your brother forces our hand.”
“How are the mother and daughter?”
“They sound okay, but phones can be tricky. That’s your first job, once you get in there. You need to let us know that he hasn’t done anything to them.”
“What do you mean?”
“We’re in the middle of a PR nightmare here. We’ve got an accused rapist holed up with a woman and her little girl. Right now, we’re, as the press would put it, ‘exercising restraint.’ But if it turns out that he’s been enjoying himself with that woman—in front of her little girl, no less—then we’re going to look like…” He looked at Josh. “We’ll look like idiots. Enabling idiots.”
“Got it,” Josh said. “I’ll be in touch the first moment I can, once I’m in there.” He looked past the captain. “Anything else I need to know?”
Logan looked at Cavanaugh, who nodded. “Yeah. The officer your brother shot? He died twenty minutes ago.”
“I’m sorry,” Josh said, his voice gravelly. “Very sorry.”
Logan nodded. “Get the mother and daughter out, if you can. At the very least, let me know how they’re doing. I’ll give you as much room as I can, but the rules changed twenty minutes ago. You know that, don’t you?”
“I do. But before I go in there, I need us to be clear on a couple of things. First, I mean what I said. I’m very sorry about your man. And I appreciate your waiting for me to get here, especially after you got the news from the hospital.” He looked at the house. “But that’s my brother in there, and I want to get him out of there alive. I think you’re playing straight with me, but I also know you could be using me to lure my brother into a turkey shoot. Just so we’re square, if you try anything like that, I join forces with my brother and you’re coming after two of us. Okay?”
Logan’s mouth twisted into a thin, joyless smile. “Just so we’re square, you’re right about the shoot. That was our original plan. Cavanaugh said your brother wouldn’t see it coming, but that you would. So there’s no attack option right now. You’ve got my word.”
“I appreciate that. So let’s have everyone stand down until I can get you a report. Tell Paul to open the door in three minutes, that I’ll be on the porch.” He looked around. “Where’s the food for the little girl?”
CHAPTER 51
At two minutes forty-five seconds, Josh walked up the path to the porch, passing two SWAT men in the bushes. He carried a brown deli bag filled with sandwiches and cokes in one hand; the other hand he kept empty and within sight. He reached the door and knocked twice.
“Josh?”
“It’s me.”
“Are you alone?”
“I’m alone. It’s okay, Paulie, Let me in.”
The door opened slightly, Paul’s hand on the top, the rest of him out of sight. Josh eased it open and slipped in. He put down the bag of food and looked up. Paul pushed the door shut and stood there, his hands empty. He was in jeans, with a tailored dress shirt and topsiders. His hair had grown out and he sported a beard.
Behind him in the living room the mother and daughter sat on the couch, their arms tight around each other. The woman was in her late twenties, pale but composed. The little girl looked at Josh, but her mother kept her eyes on Paul.
Josh tried a smile. “Times must be rough, when you have to resort to looking like me.”
Paul tried to return the smile. “I don’t think my agent would approve. But then, I don’t think I’m going to have much work for a while.”
Josh put a hand on his brother’s arm and eased past him, stopping in front of the couch. “I’m Josh Clements,” he extended his hand.
<
br /> The woman hesitated, then released her daughter and took his hand. “Linda Carson,” she said in a soft voice. “And this is Katie.”
Josh knelt down on one knee. “Hello, Katie. I heard you were hungry, so I brought you some food.” The little girl looked at him for a moment, then turned away, burying her face in her mother’s waist. Josh eyes went to the mother. “How’re you two holding up?”
“Scared. But okay. Can we go now?”
“Not quite yet.” He looked at Paul. “But soon. I promise.” He looked around for a moment, then, catching Paul’s eyes, he nodded at the multiple windows. “Tell you what, since we’ve got all this food, Katie, why don’t we go into the kitchen?” He picked up the bag of food and waited for the mother to rise. Then they all went down the hall and into the kitchen.
Once in the kitchen, everyone came to a halt and looked back at Josh. He motioned to the woman to take a seat in the breakfast nook. When she and her daughter were seated, he took the food out of the bag and placed it on the table. Then he backed away, taking Paul with him.
He leaned back, his hands gripping the tiled countertop. “What do we do now, Paulie?”
“It’s good to see you,” Paul said in a calm, strong voice. “I was going to call you tonight. Just to talk. About the waves, actually. I was out today, it was building all afternoon, six to eight feet, great shape. You’d have loved it.”
“Sounds like you’ve become quite the bodysurfer.”
“Well, there’s not much else to do these days. At first my thought was just, stay somewhere warm. Then I thought, might as well stay near the ocean, see if I could gain some ground on you with the bodysurfing.”
He joined Josh in leaning against the kitchen counter. “He’s dead, isn’t he?”
