by C. J. Lyons
She remained silent, knowing anything she said would make it worse. Nick would understand.
“And Megan. How about if I show her what I did to your mother? What you let happen, Lucy. After you disobeyed me and went after my man. Actions have consequences, Lucy.”
“Grams?” Megan said, her voice a strange combination of fury and worry. “Don’t you dare hurt my grandmother!”
“Poor girl,” he said. “If she lives through the night, she’s going to need some serious counseling. Oh, that reminds me, you really should keep your knives sharpened. They were so dull. Caused much more pain than necessary—something else you’re to blame for.”
Lucy bit the inside of her cheek to avoid screaming in frustration. “You’re right. It’s all my fault. You’re angry. At me.”
“Trying to manipulate me again, Lucy? You know that won’t work. I’m in control here. I’ve always been in control. I’m the one with the power.”
“I know that. How could I not? You hold my family’s lives in your hands.” She couldn’t risk glancing down at Nick, had to keep the killer’s gaze locked on her, but in the edge of her peripheral vision she saw Nick slowly stretch his body. Preparing to strike. “If you wait for the police, no one will get out alive.”
“Including your family.” His gaze dared her to say the words, make them fact.
“Including my family.”
What was Megan doing back there? It shouldn’t take this long to loosen the screw. She still wasn’t sure how Megan would get the IV pole to Lucy when the time was right. Timing. It all depended on split-second timing.
“Everyone you love will die because of you, Lucy. Because you thought you were smarter, better than me. Because you dared to think you could win.”
“But I’m not. Not smarter, not better, not going to win. We both know that. And you can prove it. Take control of the situation. Leave now before the police get here.” Her words came through clenched jaws. She held her breath, hoping he didn’t see the flaw in her argument—it would only take a few seconds for him to kill Nick and Megan before escaping. But she was counting on his need to see their pain—her pain. To see her crushed, totally surrendering.
To emerge the victor.
She almost had him when a pounding sounded on the door. “Open up. FBI!”
The man whirled in anger, aiming his weapon first at Nick, then at Megan, who ducked down behind Lucy. Lucy pushed herself out of the chair and stood, blocking the man’s line of fire. From the corner of her eye, she saw that the light on the intercom beside Megan was now blinking red. Ahh… smart girl.
The man said nothing, but his gaze filled with venom. He placed a foot on Nick’s throat and aimed once more at him. Then he cocked one eyebrow, daring Lucy to make a move. She stood, unsteady, weight on one foot.
Lucy ended the silence, unable to bear it anymore. “Take me hostage. Leave them.”
She had to get him out of here before he realized there was no escape. Given the basement’s layout, stepping out into the hall would be stepping into what SWAT guys called the fatal funnel. “You don’t have much time. They won’t negotiate for long.”
“No. I don’t have much time.” His tone had changed. Less rushed. Lower, restrained… in control. Shit. He’d made a decision, and it wasn’t the one she wanted. “Neither do you. We’ll finish this. Now. Together.”
Now
8:07 p.m.
“Who dies first?” the man asked. Only a few feet separated him from Lucy, but the way she was tottering, pain spiking through her leg, she knew she’d never reach him. Not in time. “Your choice, Lucy.”
Nick looked up from his position on the floor. Met her eyes. Smiled. Then scissored his legs to kick the man’s feet out from under him. The gun went off, a bullet striking one of the chairs against the far wall. The man landed on one knee, aiming at Nick.
A blur of motion came from beside Lucy as Megan slid the IV pole free. She ran forward, using it like one of her karate staffs, darting to strike the man’s wrist, then whipping the pole back, swinging it into the man’s face. The man dropped the gun. Nick scrambled to grab it.
Nick leapt to his feet, holding the pistol, hauling Megan back as she aimed yet another blow on the downed man. Megan’s hair had fallen into her face, and when she brushed it back, her expression was fury personified.
Lucy hadn’t moved. “Megan, get behind me,” she ordered. Nick gave Megan a quick hug, and Megan backed up a few steps, standing between Lucy and the man on the ground and still holding the pole like a club.
The door burst open, and Walden rushed inside, accompanied by a sheriff’s deputy. The deputy whirled on Nick, but Walden stopped him. “He’s one of ours.”
The deputy knelt to secure the man whose eye was already swollen shut and wrist bent at an unnatural angle. Megan was stronger than she looked—but Lucy knew that already.
Lucy reached for Megan, who was trembling from head to toe. Hugged her hard from behind. “Nick, take her out of here.”
He gave the weapon to Walden, hauled in a breath, eyes wide, as he turned to Lucy. But he wrapped an arm around Megan, carefully steering her around the fallen deputy and as far away as possible from the man on the floor.
“Walden—” She didn’t have to say anything more. He nodded and joined Nick and Megan, escorting them out of the room.
“I made a mistake,” the man on the floor said, his voice muffled as the deputy pushed his head down to search him.
“You made a huge mistake,” Lucy agreed, most of her mind mentally mapping Nick and Megan’s exit to safety. Adrenaline jangled her nerves. All she could see was the man’s gun aimed at Nick, then at Megan as Megan swung the pole. A split second either way… She turned her head away, swallowing hard against acid that filled her throat as her gut clenched with fear. She’d almost lost them.
“I chose the wrong victim,” the man said. Why the hell wouldn’t he just shut up?
“You chose the wrong family.” She sank down into the wheelchair, hoping he didn’t see that she simply didn’t have any strength left to stand. She wished the deputy would hurry and take this filth from her sight so she could get out of here and be with Nick and Megan. She still had to tell them about her mother. Needed to find out if her mother was okay.
Exhaustion tempted her. Her eyes were so heavy, her energy gone. She kicked her bad leg against the chair, using the pain to keep her alert. Couldn’t relax. Not until she made it to Three Rivers and her mom.
“Your family. They don’t make you vulnerable or weak.” He craned his head up to meet her gaze.
God, she was tired. So very tired. She didn’t have patience for his games. “No. They don’t. They give me strength.”
“They’re why you never lost hope. Why I couldn’t break you.”
He had. Deep inside, she knew he had. She wasn’t sure if that fracture could ever be healed. But she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing. The deputy hauled him to his feet as she said, “No. You couldn’t.”
A security guard appeared in the doorway, holding a pistol. He holstered it and joined the deputy to remove the man. The man acted as if they weren’t there, as if no one existed except him and Lucy. He twisted within his captors’ grips to look over his shoulder at her. Then he smiled. “Thanks for the fun, Lucy. You were the best ever.”
Startled, she glanced up at his words. His expression wasn’t of a man defeated. Rather of a man who’d just won, big-time.
As the two men escorting him separated to fit their threesome through the door, the killer abruptly dropped his weight, pivoting to push the deputy away, and grabbed the security guard’s weapon with his restrained hands. Then he vanished into the hallway.
Where Nick and Megan were. Terror propelled Lucy back onto her feet as the two men raced after him, leaving her hobbling behind. The sound of gunshots…
Oh God, oh God…
“Nick! Megan!” she screamed, but the gunfire drowned her out.
Finally, there w
as silence. Somehow she’d made it to the doorway, but now she wasn’t sure if she could bear to see what was on the other side. She lurched into the hallway.
The security guard was down, the deputy standing over him. Beyond them the man in the suit sat slumped, back against the wall, his white shirt now peppered with blood. More blood gushed from his mouth, and his face was slack, eyes dull. He still gripped the stolen pistol, held awkwardly to one side of his body in his handcuffed hands.
Walden approached him, weapon drawn. He kicked away the man’s pistol and checked his pulse. “He’s gone.”
The dead man had chosen his own way out, kept control of his destiny, just like he said he would.
She couldn’t see Nick or Megan. Had he destroyed what was left of her family during his suicide-by-cop?
Using the wall for support, she limped down the hall.
“Nick? Megan?” She could barely say their names. Her heart was already shredded, caught between hope and despair. She couldn’t tear her gaze away from the dead man. The man with all the answers.
She spotted movement at the end of the hallway. A door opening. Nick and Megan. Running toward her. Safe and whole and alive.
The pain in her foot vanished as she lunged forward, pulling them into her arms.
She had no idea how much time passed before the medical people arrived. “Guess we’ll get that MRI at Three Rivers,” the nurse said. Lucy’s gaze caught on the dead man, now surrounded by police officers.
She didn’t even know his name. She didn’t care.
Just as Nick was helping her back into the wheelchair, Walden reappeared, clenching his phone in his hand. He met her eyes, shaking his head sorrowfully.
A howl of anguish escaped her as Lucy realized the price she’d paid for surviving.
After
January 22, 12:04 a.m.
“Do you understand what I’ve explained to you about the complications of the procedure, Mrs. Guardino?” The vascular surgeon at Three Rivers Medical Center wielded a clipboard filled with consent forms. “Animal maulings aren’t like normal injuries. We’re dealing with nerve damage, crush injuries, infection, necrotic tissue. There’s a good chance we won’t be able to save the leg. And, even if we do, it’s questionable how much function you’ll regain.”
Nick watched as Lucy stared listlessly at the forms. She wore a patient gown as well as an assortment of bandages, splints, and dressings. She lay on a stretcher, and her left leg was propped up on a foam triangle, strapped into place, a thin layer of gauze hiding the ugly mass of swollen and dead tissue. IV tubing bristled from her right shoulder, where they’d inserted a special line that fed into her heart to give her fluids and antibiotics. Medication that was probably too late to save her foot but that could still save her life.
She finally answered the surgeon. “You’re saying I won’t be taking my husband dancing.” Then she laughed. A hollow sound, it thudded against the tile walls and made the seasoned trauma doctor flinch.
Nick didn’t blame him. Ever since Walden had told them about Lucy’s mother dying, it was as if his vibrant wife who never surrendered to anything had been lost to pain and exhaustion and grief. Not to mention the haze of drugs.
At least he hoped he could blame the drugs for most of it. They’d wear off in time. The rest…
She signed the form the surgeon held for her, her signature a random scribble, not at all her usual confident loops and spirals.
Nick couldn’t help but wonder if Lucy would ever be herself again. A flutter of fear beat against his chest wall as he held his wife’s hand and she didn’t return his loving grasp.
Back at the other hospital, he’d been torn between leaving Megan with Walden and staying with Lucy. It was the type of decision Lucy made every day, but he’d felt lost, overwhelmed. Until Walden rescued him by declaring the case a matter of national security, thus federal jurisdiction, and bringing both Nick and Megan here to Three Rivers to be with Lucy.
Only Lucy wasn’t here. Not really. Sometime after that man had died, after she’d seen her daughter forced to defend them all, Lucy—his Lucy, the fierce warrior filled with passion and compassion—she’d vanished, leaving only this empty shell of a woman.
The surgeon also seemed to realize Lucy wasn’t herself, even though he’d only met her a few hours ago. He turned his clipboard toward Nick. “Perhaps you should give consent as well, Mr. Guardino.”
“It’s Callahan,” Nick corrected. “Dr. Callahan, in fact.” He sounded like an ass, saying that, didn’t know why he did, except he desperately needed to regain some control over this nightmare, over his life.
“Oh, you’re a medical doctor?”
Nick took the clipboard and pen. “No. PhD. Psychology.” He scrawled his name. Signing consent for the surgeon to cut off part of his wife’s body.
The forms completed, the surgeon lost interest. “A nurse will be in to take her to the OR in a few minutes.” He left them.
Nick had never felt more alone. Standing beside his wife, holding her limp hand, waiting for this all to be over. Would it ever be over?
During their fifteen years of marriage, he’d seen Lucy through every possible emotional storm: passion about a case, frustration at the system, anger when justice wasn’t served. He’d seen her exhausted, in despair, even frightened.
He’d never seen her surrender. Not like this. Vacant, drained. Defeated.
“It’s going to be okay,” he murmured into her hair as he kissed her forehead, avoiding the staples holding together one of her many lacerations.
No response.
He was thankful the hospital staff hadn’t let Megan into the pre-op area. His stomach knotted at the thought of her seeing her mother like this. Hell, he wasn’t sure he could bear to see Lucy like this.
“Lucy, really. I promise. It will be okay.” He squeezed her hand again, his wedding band rubbing against the empty spot where hers should be. Would they ever get it back? Or would it be forever entombed in the bowels of some evidence locker? “You know me. I never make a promise I can’t keep.”
He squeezed harder. So hard it had to be painful. She didn’t answer, didn’t meet his gaze.
The nurse came. “It’s time. You can wait in the family area outside the OR.”
“No. I’ll go with you as far as I can.” Nick couldn’t bear letting go of Lucy, not one instant before he had to. Together they rolled her stretcher down the hall until they came to a set of double doors leading into the operating suite.
“I’m sorry,” the nurse said. “This is as far as you can go. You need to say good-bye now.”
Nick reached across Lucy’s body to embrace her, his tears wetting her cheeks as he kissed her. Her lips were cold, her face slack.
“I’ll be right here,” he promised. “Both Megan and I will be here when you wake up.”
She blinked at Megan’s name. Finally nodded. Squeezed his hand. “Remember what you promised,” she whispered, her voice low, so low he could barely make out her words. “Don’t forget.”
He kissed her again, hope rekindled by the tiny spark that had returned to her. “I won’t. It will all be okay. I know it will. You’re strong, Lucy. The strongest person I know. You’ll make it through this—we’ll make it through this. I promise.”
Her eyes slid closed as if she were too weary to keep them open. But she nodded again. “I believe you. I love you, Nick. And Megan. More than anything.”
“I know. We know.” He gave her hand one final squeeze as the nurse opened the door and pushed her through to the other side, to the sterile area where ordinary men like Nick were forbidden.
Suddenly it occurred to him that their entire marriage had been like this. Lucy crossing each day into a strange world filled with violence and evil and chaos. A world ordinary people lived their ordinary lives hoping they never had to acknowledge even existed—along with their need for people like Lucy. Men and women strong enough to enter that world and save them.
Now it was N
ick’s turn to save Lucy—and Megan as well. His entire family was at risk, contaminated by the evil that had escaped from Lucy’s world into theirs.
Part of him was angry, wanting to blame Lucy for tonight’s bloodshed. If she wasn’t the fierce, passionate warrior she was, this would have never happened.
He held onto that pain, using it to fuel the fire he’d need to get through this. Because he’d promised Lucy they would get through this. Because everything that happened to their family was as much his fault as hers.
When he’d first met her, he knew who she was, what she was, and he’d fallen hopelessly in love with her and everything she stood for. Part of him felt a coward that he could never fight on the front lines like she did—part of him felt relieved that because of people like her, he didn’t have to.
Nick gripped the railing that ran along the wall, head bowed, fighting to regain some sure footing amid the emotional turmoil engulfing him. Mostly, being with Lucy made him strive to be a better man, to find the courage to change the lives around him just as she did.
When he looked up, Lucy was gone and the doors had closed. He stared at them for a long moment, feeling lost and alone. Then he drew in a deep breath, chasing away ghosts of fear to focus on the one thing he was certain of: Lucy would survive.
With that thought as his anchor, he went in search of the family area, his mind already spinning with ideas, ways to help both his daughter and wife—and himself. Names of counselors he trusted, victim advocates, child psych specialists, patients he’d worked with, soldiers who would understand what Lucy was going through better than he could…
He was not about to let the darkness claim his family. Never. He’d promised Lucy.
And Nick was a man of his word.
Dear Readers,
As Lucy says, her family is her greatest strength and what keeps her fighting. You, my readers, are my family, and I need you to have faith in Lucy and me. The story isn’t over. Stay tuned for Lucy’s return in Hard Fall.
Thanks for reading!
CJ
