by Mallory Kane
Hammond’s gun in her back urged her forward. Rachel heard a car turn in, its tires squealing. She looked in that direction.
“Watch it, Rachel. Just keep walking. Ignore the hot rod.” Hammond prodded her again. “We’re going to my car. It’s the black SUV over there.”
She blinked tears away and tried to spot the vehicle he was talking about.
“Just keep walking straight until you pass between these two cars directly in front of you, then turn right. Go around the SUV and get into the driver’s seat.”
She was past the point of arguing with him. Because she didn’t have her purse, she didn’t have her driver’s license, but she was going to be driving the Deputy Chief of the Ninth Division of the St. Louis Metropolitan Police Department. Even if someone stopped them, all they’d do was apologize to the chief and wave them on.
The tears kept falling. She wanted to touch her stomach, spread her fingers protectively over the precious place where her baby was growing, but she didn’t dare.
I’m sorry, she said silently to her baby, holding her breath to keep from sobbing. She wasn’t going to make it through this night alive, and her baby—Ash’s baby—was going to die with her.
Chapter Seventeen
Ash killed the engine and jumped out of his car. He started to call out to Rachel and whoever was walking with her. All he could tell was that it was a male, and both of them were walking stiffly. Stiffly and doggedly. A flutter of apprehension in his chest told him there was something wrong.
He paused while there was still a row of cars between them. He wanted to get a better look at the man who was walking behind her.
At that moment they walked under a streetlight and he saw the features of the man. It was the chief. The flutter in his chest turned to full-blown panic. Without moving, he reached into his pants pocket for his cell phone and pressed the quick-dial button for Neil Chasen.
He slowly raised the phone until it was close to his mouth. “Neil, I need backup at Rachel’s apartment. The chief’s got Rachel. Repeat—need backup.”
Before he finished speaking, Hammond muttered something to Rachel and they both stopped. Hammond swept the parking lot with his gaze.
He’d heard him, Ash realized in dismay. Still, he froze in place. If he stood as still as a statue, maybe the chief wouldn’t see him in the dark. Once Hammond walked past the first row of cars, Ash could get the drop on him.
Hammond nudged Rachel with his hidden hand, and she started walking again.
Ash caught a reflection of light on metal. Damn it, Hammond had a gun on her back. His heart sank to his toes. No wonder they were both moving so stiffly. Within a matter of a split second, Ash’s mind sorted through the possible scenarios for how this situation could play out. He didn’t like any of them. The problem was, as soon as he moved, Hammond would see him, and a gun in a paddle holster behind Ash’s back was no match for a gun that was already in Hammond’s hand.
If Hammond squeezed the trigger in surprise, Rachel would be dead. Rachel and their baby. Their baby. Dangerous, hazy tears stung Ash’s eyes. He blinked furiously. No time for emotion. He needed strength, courage and focus.
They were getting closer. Hammond had already heard him. Now he was alert to the sounds in the parking lot, waiting to see what had made the sound he’d heard.
So Ash decided to play dumb. He dropped his phone to the ground and muttered a curse as he bent to pick it up.
“Hold it,” he heard Hammond say softly. “Stay still.”
Ash straightened up. “Oh, hey,” he said and stepped out of the shadows. “Chief. Rachel. What are you two doing? Going for a late dinner?”
He met Rachel’s terrified gaze and tried, without showing any change in expression, to tell her telepathically that everything was going to be all right.
If he read her right, she knew he was lying.
Then he turned his gaze to Chief Hammond, who looked like hell. “Hi, Chief. I hope you’re feeling better.”
Hammond appeared to be stunned. His eyes darted from Ash to the right and back again. Ash figured he was measuring the distance to his vehicle and comparing it with the distance between Ash and them.
Ash held up his cell phone with his left hand. “I was trying to call you, Rach. I dropped my damn phone.” He blew on the case, as if dislodging dust. “I hope I didn’t break it.” All the while he was talking and gesturing with his left hand, he was carefully and slowly inching his right hand back to grab his weapon.
“Ash,” the chief said. “Don’t move.”
Ash froze. He stared at Hammond as if he couldn’t believe what he’d said. He took a step forward. “Chief? What’s the matter?”
Hammond wrapped his left forearm around Rachel’s neck. She uttered a short, cut-off shriek.
Ash immediately raised his hands. He still held his cell phone in his left hand. “Chief? I don’t understand—”
“Shut up!” the chief yelled. Pushing Rachel ahead of him, he moved forward, toward the end of the sidewalk and the beginning of the parking lot.
“Uncle Charlie—” she gasped.
“Shut up!” he bellowed. “Ash, get down on the ground. Flat, arms out to your side. Do it now!” He pushed Rachel farther forward, until they were nearly past the back ends of the cars. It gave Hammond a clear shot at Ash.
Ash knew if he sprawled on the ground, it would all be over. Whatever Hammond was planning, he didn’t seem to care if he came out of it alive.
“Chief, listen to me. I know what happened. You went to Campbell’s house, right? Was he already in the tub with his wrists cut?”
Hammond frowned. “How—?”
“I saw his bathroom. It’s the only thing that makes sense. You got there too early. Bad luck. Ten more minutes and Campbell would have bled out and you could have left the scene and let someone else find him.”
“Stop talking and get on the ground.”
“Campbell’s death would have taken the heat off the police department and you never would have had to defend your decisions.”
“I made the right decision! Campbell was guilty!” Rachel winced and cried out as Hammond shoved the gun even harder into her back.
Hammond was running out of patience and Ash was running out of time “Chief, wait. The M.E. can’t say whether Campbell was dead or alive when he suffered that blow to his head. What if you found Campbell dead and decided to drive him up to that lake so his mother wouldn’t know—?”
“Stop it. Just stop it! Get! Down! Or I swear I’ll shoot her.” He dug the barrel of the gun deeper into Rachel’s back. She cried out in pain.
Ash knew he would. He could see it in his pale, panicked face. He measured the distance between them. At least twelve feet. Too far. A standing jump would never carry him far enough to grab Hammond. But he was pretty sure of one thing. If he dived at him, the chief’s response would likely be to push Rachel aside and turn the gun on Ash.
Ash could die. But by the time Hammond shot him, maybe Rachel could recover her footing and run. Or maybe Neil would show with backup.
He looked at Rachel, the woman who’d screwed up his carefree life by getting pregnant. The woman he wanted to make a new life with, raise their child with, grow old with.
Did he rush Hammond and risk dying? It was the only thing he could do to save Rachel.
Hammond squeezed Rachel’s neck tighter.
“I can’t—breathe,” she gasped, grabbing his forearm with her hands and trying to pull. “Please—Uncle Char—I—”
“Shut up!” the chief yelled.
Ash jumped. He sailed toward the chief, knowing as soon as his feet left the ground that he was going to fall short.
Hammond let go of Rachel, who went sprawling to the ground with a scream, and turned his powerful Sig Sauer on Ash.
As his forward motion decayed and he began falling toward the ground, Ash’s super-attenuated senses saw Hammond’s finger squeeze the trigger, saw the powder flare, watched the bullet fly toward
him.
The impact of the bullet propelled him backward. His fingers brushed Hammond’s pant legs below the knee and Ash grasped at his legs.
He slammed to the ground, which hurt more than he’d ever dreamed anything could, and Hammond fell on top of him. Dimly, Ash heard the clatter of metal on pavement and something or someone screeching in his ears.
“I DO NOT—NEED TO GO to the hospital,” Rachel protested through her sobs as she watched Ash’s ominously still form being loaded into the back of an ambulance. “Please, let me go with him.”
The EMT kept a firm hold on her arm and continued examining her neck. “He’s in excellent hands. They’ll take good care of him for you.” He put his hand on the gun. “Now why don’t you let me have this. You don’t need it anymore. The policeman here wants to take it.”
Rachel squeezed even tighter the handle of Chief Hammond’s gun. She’d crawled across the pavement to grab it when Ash had knocked it out of his hand. If the sirens and the screeching of tires hadn’t startled her, she’d have shot her “uncle.” Because he had shot Ash.
The police officer stepped up and nodded at the EMT. “Dr. Stevens, I’ll take the gun now. We need to log it into evidence so we can prove whose it is.”
Prove whose it is. She nodded and opened her fist. “Keep the chain of custody,” she warned him, then sobbed again.
“Don’t you worry. I’m definitely taking care of this weapon,” the officer said solemnly.
The EMT pressed a place near her jaw.
She jumped.
“You’ve got some pretty nasty bruises here. Your neck is going to be real colorful for the next couple of weeks. Now, where else were you hurt?”
He’d already cleaned and put bandages on her elbow and her knees where she’d scraped them on the pavement.
“Uncle—Chief Hammond pushed the gun into my back. It—hurt.” She squeezed her eyes shut. She knew she was acting like a baby, but she couldn’t stop herself. She’d thought she was going to die. Then she’d watched Ash get shot. She didn’t think she’d ever be able banish from her head the sight of his body jerking violently backward as the bullet slammed into him.
“What if he dies?” she whispered.
“The detective who was shot? I’m sure he’ll pull through.” How could he know?
“You don’t know that!” she snapped. “Don’t tell people things are going to be okay when you don’t know.”
The EMT had lifted her shirt and was looking at her back. “You’ve got some bruises here, too, but you should be fine.”
She rested her hand on her stomach. “I’m pregnant,” she cried, the sobs climbing up her throat again.
“Oh, yeah?” the EMT said. “How far along are you?”
“Nine weeks,” she said as he felt her belly and took a stethoscope and listened.
“Congratulations. Looks to me like everything’s fine. But we’re going to send you to the hospital just to be sure.”
“I told you—”
“No arguments,” he said, crouching down so he could look her in the eye. She knew she had no choice.
TWO DAYS LATER, ASH WAS making his way slowly around the hospital room, collecting his belongings when a rap came on the door.
“Hey,” Neil said as he walked inside, his gaze taking in the overnight bag and Ash’s shirt and khaki pants. “What are you doing up? Didn’t you just have surgery?”
“Two days ago.” He gestured toward his left side. “Luckily Hammond was off balance. The bullet plowed a furrow in my side, but that’s all.” Ash reached across the foot of the bed for his shaving kit and groaned in pain.
“That’s not what I heard. They told me that you were in surgery for two hours. That the bullet came way too close to your spine.”
Ash shrugged and pretended to check the contents of his bag one more time. “So have you seen Rachel?” he asked casually.
“Not since that night. Her mom picked her up at the hospital and took her home with her, kicking and screaming.”
Ash turned. “What does that mean?”
Neil smiled. “It means Rachel wouldn’t leave until you were safely out of surgery and in the recovery room.”
“Really?” Ash heard the longing in his own voice and cleared his throat.
“Really,” Neil answered on a laugh. “You’ve got it bad, don’t you?”
Ash looked back down at his bag and zipped it. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Right.”
“Did you come here just to give me a hard time? Because Nat’s waiting downstairs.”
“I just came from the chief’s arraignment,” Neil said, his voice sober now. “He pled guilty to murder in the first degree.”
“What?” Ash was shocked. “Who the hell’s his lawyer?”
“I don’t know the guy, but he wasn’t happy. He entered a plea of not guilty by reason of insanity and asked for a hearing to determine if the chief is competent to stand trial.” Neil shook his head.
“Ash, you should have seen him. I swear he looks like he’s lost twenty pounds and aged twenty years. He’s not the same man. It’s like the chief is gone and all that’s left is the shell.”
Ash sat down on the bed. “It doesn’t make sense. What did he get out of killing Campbell? Except life in prison?”
“I think it was like you told me. He was going to try and make it look like suicide, but Campbell fought. After that, I think the chief just lost his mind and thought if he could make the body disappear—” Neil trailed off.
Ash shook his head. “I was making that up as I went along, hoping I could get him to let Rachel go. Did Hammond explain anything when he pled?”
“He talked, but he didn’t make much sense. He just kept raving that Campbell had to be guilty. That he wasn’t wrong twenty years ago and he wasn’t wrong now. It was pretty sad to watch.” Neil sighed. “He always seemed so—you know—large and in charge.”
Ash laughed ruefully. “In charge, definitely.” He stood again and gathered up his belongings. “Let’s go. I’ll walk down with you.”
“Don’t you have to wait for a nurse to wheel you down?”
“No. I already told them I was leaving under my own steam.”
“What about flowers? You poor sucker. Didn’t you get any flowers?”
“Nat already took them.” He reached for the door and grunted.
Neil laughed. “How come she didn’t take your bag?”
“Her hands were full.”
“Give it to me.” Neil took Ash’s bag from him. “So you gonna let your aunt take care of you?” Neil asked as they reached the elevator.
“That would be great, for about twenty minutes. No, Natalie’s taking me back to my house.”
“So she’ll be taking care of you.”
Ash laughed weakly. The walk to the elevator had worn him out. He sucked in a deep breath. “That might work for an hour, but no. I’ll be fine.”
Neil assessed him. “Then you must feel a hell of a lot better than you look.” When the elevator opened on the main floor, they walked out the doors together.
Neil waved at Natalie, who was leaning against her car, waiting. She waved back and gave him a smile, then she glared at Ash.
“Why aren’t you in a wheelchair?” she scolded. “You look like you’re about to faint.”
“Give me a break, Nat. I’m fine.”
“Yeah? Get in the car.” She took his bag and held the passenger door open for him.
He sat carefully in the seat, then went to lift his leg. Pain grabbed his side and twisted like a giant fist. He gasped.
“See. That’s what I thought. Lift your leg with your hand.”
“With my hand? I’m not paralyzed.”
“Do it.”
Ash did what she’d said and found out it was much easier. “Okay, fine,” he grunted, lifting the other leg and carefully positioning himself in the passenger seat.
Natalie grinned at him and slammed the door, then walked around to th
e driver’s side and got in. “Where to, sir?”
“Home,” Ash said, trying to figure out why his vision was going dark at the edges. He leaned his head back against the seat. “My house.”
“Aunt Angie has chicken potpie cooking, especially for you.”
“Please don’t, Nat. I can’t eat. All I want to do is sleep.” He closed his eyes, but he could feel his sister’s gaze on him.
“Okay, but you’re the one who’s going to have to tell her. I’m not about to try and convince her that you’re better off home alone.”
“No problem,” Ash whispered, grimacing at the pain in his side. “Go by the drugstore first. I’ve got a prescription for pain meds.”
Natalie drove to the pharmacy and filled his prescription, then took him to his house, carried his bag inside for him, fetched him a big glass of water, and admonished him to keep his phone by his bed and drink plenty of liquids.
As soon as she left, he took a pill, then eased his weight down on the bed. He unbuttoned his shirt, amazed that the simple task was so hard. He tried to lift a leg to toe off his shoe, but it hurt too much. Gingerly, he lay back on the pillows without trying to undress any further.
He closed his eyes, but all he could see behind his lids was Rachel gasping for air around Chief Hammond’s choke hold.
He remembered diving for Hammond, praying that the chief would instinctively let go of Rachel and turn his weapon on him. It had been a desperate choice. Do nothing and let Rachel die. Or bet her life on Hammond’s reaction.
He didn’t find out whether she had survived until he’d woken up after surgery. A nurse had checked for him and reported that she had been released from the Emergency Room and her mother had picked her up.
He threw his arm over his face and pretended the dampness in his eyes was just a reaction to the pain. That was all. It wasn’t because now he knew that he finally did believe in forever, but it was too little, too late.
