Multiple screams rang out.
Pain ripped through Melissa’s left shoulder. Her arms had gone numb from hanging above her head so long, but the bullet’s abrupt passage slammed her hard against the wall. At first, it felt like being hit with a really fast baseball, but then the burning, aching pain took over. She couldn’t make heads or tails of anything else going on in the room. The world had been reduced to fiery pain and deep sorrow.
***
The instant Josh fired at Mel, Sam made a snap decision. He always wore a pocket pistol strapped to his right ankle but getting to that would take time he didn’t have. In most situations, it would simply be a matter of going for the crazy guy with the gun, only this time, there were two such targets. Screams filled the room, adding to the confusion. Blocking out the distractions, Sam tackled Josh.
The blow drove the younger man into the wall. The gun clattered to the ground. Josh had youth, speed, and bulk on his side. Sam had desperation, fear for Mel, and actual hand-to-hand combat training going for him. They fell over in a tangle of arms and legs. Sam tried to keep his arms wrapped around Josh, but the young man thrashed like a cornered bear. The back of Josh’s head met Sam’s chin, splitting his lower lip and giving him a massive headache. Heaving up, Sam used the leverage he had to slam Josh back to the ground, hopefully knocking the wind out of him. The thrashing continued but with less vigor. Encouraged, Sam changed his grip long enough to throw a short, quick punch into his opponent’s head.
Knowing he had to end the fight quickly, Sam flipped Josh over and smashed his left fist into his cheek. At the same moment, the air whooshed out of him as Josh’s fist crashed in from the side. Not sure how long the victory would last, Sam looked frantically about for the gun.
He spotted it over by the dental chair. If he dove, he could have it in a second.
“Stop.” The order wasn’t loud, but it seemed so in the absence of screams.
Still climbing off of Josh’s prone form, Sam didn’t need to look to know Andy’s gun would be pointed his way. Stopping his efforts to rise, Sam shifted his body so he’d have easier access to his backup gun. His eyes moved past Andy’s gun to Mel. Mercifully, she’d passed out, but blood still soaked the left side of her shirt.
Tearing his gaze away, Sam looked at Andy. The young man looked more like a lost little boy than a threat, but he still held a gun with a bullet in it.
“Help her!” Jenn pleaded, addressing Andy.
If Sam drew now, he had a good chance of taking down Andy, but in the close quarters, he also had a good chance of hitting Jenn, the other woman, or even Mel. Besides, insane or not, Andy was Mel’s brother. Shooting him would have to be a very last resort. He drew his gun anyway but kept it out of sight by his ankle. His knees began to burn from crouching, but he didn’t want to break the uneasy calm that had fallen.
Something nagged at Sam, but his weary brain refused to define that feeling with any clarity.
“Andy, she’s going to bleed out,” Jenn said urgently. “You love her. You said it yourself. Don’t let that happen. Let us help her or save her yourself, but do something!”
My gun!
The thought burst into Sam’s mind. His gaze whipped down in time to see Josh pull the gun free of his pocket. Desperately, Sam slammed the butt of his gun down on the man’s head.
The gun went off.
Everybody froze.
In slow motion, Andy dropped to his knees before Mel. A neat hole appeared in his back. Then, blood trickled down.
Whipping out his handcuffs, Sam secured Josh’s hands behind his back and double checked that he was still unconscious. Searching the man’s pockets, he found a cell phone and used it to call 911. After a short, tense conversation to relay the facts, Sam dropped the phone and rushed to Andy.
The man had fallen to his hands and knees, sobbing. Sam stretched him out on his stomach, trying not to disturb the wound. This time, he conducted a thorough search for weapons. Riffling through Andy’s pockets produced a ring of keys. In a moment, Jenn, the other woman, and Mel were released from their chains. Sam applied the handcuffs that Jenn had worn to Andy and one of the support slats on the chair she’d sat in.
“Go watch Josh,” Sam instructed his sister. “Make sure he stays quiet.”
An animalistic growl from the other woman warned Sam a second before she lunged at Andy. Catching her around the waist, Sam threw her back into the chair she’d just exited and reapplied the handcuffs.
She rained down curses on him, but he ignored her.
“Ma’am, this is for your safety and mine,” Sam said calmly.
“Let me kill him!” she screeched.
“Natasha, please,” said Jenn. “We don’t have time for this. We need to save Mel.”
Leaving the beast-taming role to his sister, Sam gently lowered Mel to the ground. Stripping off his rumpled dress shirt, he wadded it up and pressed it over Mel’s shoulder.
She groaned at the renewed pain.
“Lie still. Let me stop the bleeding,” said Sam.
Her head lolled to the side and she caught sight of Andy. Mel tried to sit up, but Sam held her down.
“Please.” She didn’t get any further, but Sam got the gist.
“Jenn, see if there’s something you can do to stop him from bleeding out.” Sam didn’t look at his sister, but he could imagine the look she was giving him.
Natasha loosed another curse-laced rant until Jenn threatened to duct tape her mouth shut and stomped off to get a cloth or bandage to help Andy.
With the worst of the crisis over, Sam leaned down and kissed Mel’s sweaty forehead. The move hurt his split lip, but he didn’t regret it.
“I know my timing’s terrible, but I love you.” He had a whole lot more to say, but it would have to wait until she woke up again.
Chapter 45:
Psycho67
Andrew Novak’s Private Residence
Florence, New Jersey
A haze of pain carried Melissa Novak along in a state somewhere between consciousness and unconsciousness. Someone nearby held one of her hands and spoke in a low voice, but her mind refused to make sense of the words. Instead, one word forced its way through the haze and blazed within her mind.
Psycho67.
Because she’d been fully convinced she was about to die, Melissa had paid attention to every nuance of the conversation with Andy before things went from bad to worse. Andy had spoken the name with a childlike, trusting tone. The numbers told her the name probably doubled as an online handle. Who would choose a name like that though?
A devoted fan.
Connections clicked together almost faster than Melissa could follow. To organize her thoughts, she listed the facts she had, regardless of how much they hurt her to think about. Andy was a murderer many times over. He might come across as crazy, but he followed logic that made sense to him. According to her fellow prisoners, he rambled a lot about fate, destiny, and being called to clean up the world. That sort of crazy usually didn’t spring up in isolation. It required a following.
Psycho67 meant something to Andy, so whoever owned that moniker was either a mentor or a fan. The tone used had her leaning toward mentor.
As kids, Andy, Josh, and Mel had played games exchanging letters in words and substituting numbers.
Hitchcock’s movie Psycho had been a family favorite when they were kids.
They’d vacationed in California one year when the boys were very young and seen a 49ers game together as a family at Candlestick Park. Despite concerted effort from their father, the boys had been 49ers fans ever since.
The only book in high school they hadn’t whined about reading was Catch-22.
Josh is Psycho67.
Melissa couldn’t fathom everything that meant, but it opened up a new, soul-deep ache within her.
He loved playing with numbers. Psycho67 would make perfect sense to him if he combined the things he enjoyed. Most people used numbers from their birth year, but 1967 was
way before Josh and Andy’s time. If one took the number 49 and brought the first digit up by two and the second digit down by two, they’d end up with 67.
Forcing her eyes open, Melissa tried to sit up. She needed to get to a computer.
Sam’s concerned face loomed above her.
“Don’t move. The EMTs will be here shortly.”
“Josh!” Melissa tried to put the urgency she felt into the name.
“The police will deal with him. He’s fine,” said Sam, not understanding her meaning.
Groaning with the effort, Melissa shook her head.
“He’s … responsible.” She swallowed hard and drew some quick breaths. She didn’t remember talking being this difficult in the past.
Sam smiled down at her sympathetically.
“Mel, Josh has a lot to answer for, but Andy’s the killer. You’re the only one Josh shot, and I think you’ll live.”
“No. Yes.” Melissa let out a noise that somehow hit both groan and growl. Gritting her teeth, she said, “Get me to a computer.”
“Slow down, woman,” said Sam. “Your email can wait.”
Melissa gripped Sam’s hand as hard as she could with her rapidly depleting strength.
“Must … show you something.”
“Can’t it wait until after we get that hole in you patched?”
She shook her head and tried to sit up yet again.
“Hang on. You’re not going anywhere, Doc,” said Sam. “Let me check the wound. If it’s not too bad, I’ll help you sit up.” He turned his head to look over his shoulder. “Jenn, see if you can find a laptop.” Cradling Melissa’s hand between his, Sam grumbled a question. “Why do doctors make poor patients?”
Not having the energy to offer an answer, Melissa closed her eyes and tried not to pass out.
Jenn soon returned with a laptop.
“It’s password protected,” she warned.
“Is Andy conscious?” asked Sam. “He’d know the password.”
“He’s still out cold,” Jenn said, sounding tentative. “And there’s an awful lot of blood.”
Forcing her head up, Melissa looked at Jenn. “Help me, please.”
“Let him rot,” said Natasha.
They collectively ignored her.
“He got hit saving her, and he’s still her brother,” Sam said, speaking to his sister but still looking at Melissa. “If you don’t want to help him, come sit with her.”
“I’ll do it.” Jenn clearly wasn’t happy, but her voice held sincerity.
Since Sam still wouldn’t let her get up, Melissa had him hold the laptop while she tried a few passwords. On the fifth try, the computer unlocked.
“How’d you know?” asked Sam with an annoying amount of surprise.
“He’s good with computers; lousy with passwords,” Melissa explained.
The one that had worked had been a combination of her nickname and Josh’s name in alternating letters.
Typical Andy.
Sam moved the laptop so he could type but angled it so Melissa could watch the screen.
“What am I looking for?”
“Search for ‘psycho67.’ I think it’s Josh.”
The search yielded dozens of hits. Sam whistled after reading a few entries. He looked to the opposite side of the room and glared. Melissa assumed his target was Josh.
“Got anything to say about this?” asked Sam.
“He knew,” Melissa whispered. “He wanted it to happen.”
The truth of the words made them harder to bear. How could her brothers have strayed so far from right? How could she not have seen it? She wanted to stop thinking, but her mind conjured one more terrifying thought.
If I’m so bad at judging character, what does that mean for Sam?
This new pain was distinctly different than the others she’d felt today. Melissa looked up into his handsome face and knew what she had to do. She had to protect him from the fallout.
“Sam.”
He met her eyes.
“I’ll have my people dig into this computer later,” Sam assured her. “They’ll find out how much Josh was involved.”
“Sam,” she repeated. Melissa clung to slippery scraps of courage. “I—”
Sam placed a finger over her lips.
“Oh no, you don’t. We already broke up once this weekend because of them. It’s not happening again.”
“But—”
“You’re not them, Mel. You haven’t made their choices.”
“But all those people, those families ….” Melissa let that sentence end unfinished. There was no easy answer.
“I know,” said Sam, “it’s going to be messy and difficult, but we’ll face it together.”
His words weren’t particularly profound, but she believed him.
“Sam? I love you.”
He grinned.
“Finally, you’re talking sense!” Leaning down, he gently kissed her lips. “And just for the record, I said it first.”
Melissa didn’t remember if he had or not, but once again, she believed him. The love wrapped around her heart and gave her hope that she could face the future.
Epilogue:
Old Bet, Fresh Start
Four Months Later …
In a Plane
Somewhere over Eastern Pennsylvania
“One hundred bucks. Pay up, Kerman!” shouted Sergeant First Class Neil Cunningham.
Melissa watched as Sam nodded solemnly and handed over a crisp bill.
“What was that about?” she asked, when he came up beside her. She’d already paid their fees for the jump.
“Old bet,” said Sam. He spoke directly into her ear to be heard. “Told him I’d never skydive again.”
“Knew I’d get my money back with interest someday,” said Neil, slapping Sam on the back. “So, you two love birds ready to fly?”
Melissa nodded, knowing her expression betrayed her terror.
“Ladies first,” said Cunningham.
Shortly thereafter, Melissa was strapped securely across the sergeant’s chest, ready for the tandem jump. Her eyes sought Sam, but he only waved.
“Don’t worry, princess. Prince Charming’ll be right on our heels.”
Melissa didn’t have time to reply because the soldier chose that moment to leap from the plane.
She screamed.
The first ten seconds were among the scariest of her life, but then, she peeled her eyes open and saw the stunning view. From up here, one could see for miles. The land stretched in a beautiful, multicolored ribbon punctuated by large swaths of green and gold. Bodies of water sparkled like fine gems. Her breath jerked out of her as the parachute deployed, giving her a moment to enjoy the rush of wind. Their descent slowed but continued as Neil used the steering straps to head toward an open field.
Once he brought them to a safe landing and set her loose, Melissa thanked him for the thrilling experience. The air down here was warmer than up in the plane or descending through the air but not by much. Melissa didn’t mind. Fall was her favorite season. Her jeans and sweatshirt kept her warm enough under the flight suit. Her left shoulder ached, but she appreciated being alive too much to care. The surgeon who’d removed the bullet had cleared her for the jump, though she didn’t sound pleased with the notion.
“Fun’s not over. K-man’s got one more surprise for you.” Neil’s voice took on a serious quality as he held out a hand for her goggles. “I can just show you, but it’ll be more fun if you close your eyes and let me lead you there. Totally up to you.”
The concern told her that Sam must have shared some of her recent experiences with his friend. The memory shot fear through Melissa, but she pushed it aside and handed over the goggles.
Andy’s not here. This isn’t his basement.
Things with her brothers were far from settled. Sam’s task force had linked Andy to a number of horrific crimes. His lawyer was talking about trying for an insanity plea, but he didn’t sound optimistic about gettin
g it. One of Melissa’s psychiatrist friends had started seeing Andy in prison. Josh had already been charged with attempted murder and kidnapping. The task force considered several other charges and conspiracy-to-commit charges, but she wasn’t sure what became of them.
Josie and the kids had moved in on a semi-permanent basis.
Thankfully, Sam’s team member, Agent Okiro, had made a full recovery.
Andy’s healing was slow. He might end up permanently paralyzed from the waist down from the bullet meant for her. He’d expressed some remorse, though transcripts of the conversations between him and his lawyer, which he let Melissa see, showed some serious gaps in logic. There might actually be some grounds for declaring him mentally deficient, but she didn’t know which way to wish that would go. Thankfully, such decisions were out of her hands.
He’d surprised her early this past week by granting her use of several large bank accounts. An entire team of lawyers and accountants had been over them with fine-tooth combs and concluded they were legitimately earned through a variety of online business ventures, including Matchmaker Miracles. She hadn’t told Sam about the money yet. When the lawyers got done salivating, they’d help her anonymously use some of the funds to support the victims and their families. She gave silent thanks that both Natasha Creswell and Layla O’Malley had recovered physically from their close encounters with death. To a man—or woman—the lawyers had advised against public support of the victims, for fear of backlash and to avoid sparking a slew of gold-digging civil lawsuits.
Realizing she’d been silent too long, Melissa forced a smile, closed her eyes, and held out a hand for Neil to lead her.
“I trust you,” she said.
“Brave lady,” quipped Neil, “but I already knew that since you date K-man.”
The soldier’s grip was steady enough to offer guidance without making her feel threatened. He kept up a running commentary about the beautiful scenery she was missing.
“And here we are,” Neil announced. “One safely delivered lovely lady. K-man, catch ya later. Three’s a crowd and all. Oops, almost forgot this. Do me proud, brother.”
“Out,” ordered Sam.
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