by Mallory Kane
Her eyes focused on Faith. “Bastard hit me,” she slurred. “Didn’t hear him.” She shook her head gingerly. “Tea kettle.”
“I know, Glo. Here,” Faith said, pulling over a metal dinette chair. “Let me help you into the chair.”
Rory started pacing back and forth across the tiny kitchen. It was only two strides for him. “Stop it, Faith. Leave her alone. She’s fine. I need you to listen to me!” he shouted, still waving the gun around.
Faith held Glo’s arm and helped her into the chair.
“Damn it!” Rory shrieked. He fired a shot into the ceiling.
Faith froze. Glo screamed.
“I told you to listen to me!” Rory pointed the gun at Faith. The barrel shook.
She was sure she could feel heat coming off the barrel. “O-okay, Rory,” she said in a voice that cracked with fear. “I’m listening.”
He raved as he paced. “I got to get out of town. Got to get away tonight. They’re going to kill me, Faith. Kill me. But it wasn’t my fault. No. It wasn’t my fault.”
Faith winced every time the gun barrel swung her way. His forefinger was on the trigger. She didn’t know much about guns but she did know from watching TV that some of them had what the characters called hair trigger, and they could go off at the least touch. Didn’t Rory know that? Because to her, it looked like Rory was squeezing awfully hard on that trigger.
“Rory, you’ve got to calm down. If you hurt somebody with that gun, you could go to jail.”
“Hah!” Rory stopped and punctuated his words with the gun’s barrel. “You don’t know anything. I’m going to jail anyway. They screwed me, Faith. They screwed me good. Oh, God!” He resumed his pacing.
Glo, sitting in the dinette chair, raised her head and took a long breath. “Son of a bitch,” she said, touching the gash on her head tentatively. “Rory Stockett, you put that gun down right now.” Glo’s words were brave, but her face was a sickly gray.
Rory turned the gun on her. “You whiny old maid, you shut up or next time I won’t just hit you on the head. I’ll use the business end of this gun and put a bullet right through you.”
“I hope they do put you in jail,” Glo muttered. “Better yet, under the jail.”
“I’m warning you, you old bag!” Rory shouted.
“Rory,” Faith said evenly. “Tell me what’s wrong, and I’ll do whatever I can to help.”
Rory’s face had gone darker. Faith was terrified that he was going to snap any minute and shoot all of them. Glo’s taunts weren’t helping.
“Rory,” she said, taking a step toward him with her arms outstretched and her palms up. “Just tell me what I can do. I’ll do anything I can to help you. You’re my baby’s father, after all.” She hadn’t wanted to say that. She’d rather just forget about him and be thankful that he wasn’t the fatherly type.
Rory looked at her. “That’s right,” he said in a slightly calmer voice. “I am. And I’ll tell you something else. No two-bit wetback’s going to come in here and stake his claim on you and that baby. You’re mine. Both of you. Right?”
For an instant, the gun barrel slumped downward. “Oh, Faith. I thought I’d lost you. I was so scared you were going to get hurt.”
“Hurt?” Faith frowned. “Hurt how? What are you talking about?”
“I tried to warn you. I told you to stay away from the governor.”
“Oh, my God, Rory! You threw that brick!”
“I was trying to warn you! Don’t you get it?” He waved the gun again. “I was protecting you. Now you’ve got to help me. If they catch up to me they’re going to kill me.”
Faith tried to make sense of Rory’s raving. “Who’s going to kill you, Rory? What are you talking about?”
“I don’t have time for this, Faith. Where are your car keys?”
“My car keys?” Faith repeated. “Oh, of course! You can get away in my car? I’ll sign the title over to you. Then if you’re stopped, it’ll be legitimate.”
He looked at her narrowly. “Get away. Lay low for a while. Yeah! That’s what I’ve got to do.” His eyes lost their wild animal look.
“Yeah. I know what I need. Where’s your key to the basement, Faith? I need some money.”
“Money? No, Rory. I don’t have any. You pretty well cleaned me out.”
“Don’t B.S. me Faith. I know you’ve got cash stashed in the safe. You always do. You told me, remember?”
Of all the things Faith had told Rory in the months they were together, naturally the one he remembered was her offhand comment that she kept a couple of thousand dollars in the safe in case of emergency.
“Come on. I don’t have much time. I need that money, Faith.”
She shook her head, but before she could say anything else, he took a step toward her and pressed the barrel of the gun directly against the back of her neck. “Do what I say, Faith. Get a move on!”
Faith let him march her toward the door. As they left the kitchen, she looked back at Glo, sending her a silent message.
Get Kaleigh. Go down the back stairs.
Glo met her gaze, but she still looked dazed.
Please God, make her understand.
Please.
ONCE FAITH WAS FAR ENOUGH down the stairs, she saw the broken glass on the floor at the front of the diner. That explained the sound she’d heard just before the tea kettle whistled and how Rory had gotten in. He’d broken the glass on the front door and reached inside to unlock the doors.
She stepped off the last step onto the hardwood floors of the dining room. Rory nudged her forward with the barrel of the gun against her neck. “Have you got the key to the basement?” he asked.
She nodded. It was on the chain with the remote receiver for the baby monitor. She reached into her pocket and found the monitor. She needed to turn it off before Glo or the baby made a sound and reminded Rory that he’d left them unattended. Her thumb touched the toggle switch, and she flipped it.
Relief made her light-headed as she pulled the chain out of her pocket. With any luck, he wouldn’t notice the key chain. She was afraid if he saw the baby monitor receiver on the chain that he’d remember he’d left Glo and Kaleigh upstairs.
Run, Glo. Get Kaleigh and run! Down the back stairs!
She stuck the key in the lock and turned it.
“Open it,” Rory said. “Open the door and go straight down the stairs.”
She complied. When she reached out her hand at the bottom of the stairs, Rory tensed and the gun barrel dug deeper into her neck, but once he realized she was turning on the lights, he relaxed a bit.
“Rory, you need to hurry if you want to get away. Matt will be home any minute.” She immediately knew she’d said the wrong thing.
“Home?” Rory ground out, pushing the gun’s barrel into her neck. “Home? Is that really how it is? You just had my baby and you’re—?”
“Rory, I promise you. There’s nothing between Matt and me.” Liar. “He’s just—” What? He’s just what? She had no idea how to finish that sentence.
“Rory, what happened?” She tried to turn the tables. “How did you get mixed up with people who want to hurt Governor Lockhart?”
“Don’t ask me questions. Open the safe. Do it now!” Rory took a shaky breath. “You know how it is, Faith. I got in trouble with gambling. It’s always the same. I can’t get any freaking luck. I bet on a sure winner—a sure winner—and still lost.”
Faith turned the knob on the safe with trembling hands. She went at it slowly and carefully, knowing Rory would think she was faking it if she screwed up the combination.
Where was Matt? She had no idea what time it was, but she knew it was late. Please hurry, she prayed.
“I had to pay off the debt, Faith,” he wheedled. “I had to. So when they said I could pay it off by taking a potshot at the governor, it sounded easy as pie.” He chuckled. “Your cherry pie, Faith.”
She winced at the familiarity. One more turn and the safe door would be unlocked. Sh
e turned the knob slowly and felt the tumblers drop into place, but she didn’t open the safe. She pretended to continue turning the dial and hoped Rory wasn’t looking too closely.
“So you didn’t intend to hit the bodyguard?” she asked softly.
“I didn’t mean to hit anybody. It was supposed to be a scare. One shot fired toward the governor. The shooter gets away. End of story.” He sighed. “But now, they’re all pissed off because I hit that guard. Hell, anybody could have made that mistake. I don’t think the gun was working right. I think the sights were off.”
“So they’re after you now?”
“Faith, I think they’re going to kill me. That’s why I’ve got to get out of here. I’ve got to hide from them.” He thrust the gun’s barrel tight against her neck. “But I’ve got to have a disguise,” he continued, his voice turning thoughtful.
“They’ll be looking for me, expecting me to be by myself. I know. You’ll come with me. We’ll take your car and get a fake license plate. We’ll travel as husband and wife.”
Faith’s heart slammed against her chest wall. “I can’t go, Rory,” she said, trying to sound regretful. “I’ve got the baby, remember?”
“No, no,” he snapped. “You have to go. Glo can take care of the baby. You’ve got to help me. Yeah, we’ll be husband and wife. Maybe we’ll really get married.” He paused. “Hey, what’s taking so long with that safe? We’ve got to get out of here now.”
Her heart was beating so hard and so fast that she could barely catch her breath. “Rory, no. You can’t do this.”
He was going to take her hostage and make her leave her baby behind. There was no time left. She couldn’t count on Matt. If she was going to have any chance of stopping Rory, she was going to have to do it herself.
“I can’t see to get the last number,” she said, bending her head as if studying the numbers on the knob. “Can you see?” Casually, she put her hand on the safe’s door handle.
“Damn it, Faith. Can’t you do anything?” Rory stepped past her and up close enough so he could see the numbers. “What’s the number supposed to be?” he asked, bending his head.
Immediately, Faith pulled the handle and swung the safe door open as hard and fast as she could.
A crack split the air. She’d managed to hit him in the head.
MATT DROVE AS FAST AS he dared. He muttered a curse as he glanced at the dashboard clock: eleven-thirty. He’d been later than he’d hoped getting away from the hospital in Amarillo.
The man the police had called Sheriff Hale about was a match for the forensic artist’s sketch, but he wasn’t Rory Stockett. That didn’t mean he might not be the shooter, but it didn’t mean he was either.
Two hours of questioning hadn’t yielded any answers from him except his constant insistence that he didn’t remember anything about who he was or what happened to him.
The police were sure he was lying about his amnesia. The doctors weren’t sure. So they’d had to compromise. The physician in charge in the emergency room had admitted him to the psychiatric unit for evaluation, and the police had fingerprinted and photographed him to try and ID him. They’d also sent CSI out to comb the alley where he was found, for any clues to who he was and what had happened to him.
Matt checked the GPS system, noting that he was still eleven miles from the café. He picked up his phone from the console. He wanted to call Faith and tell her he was on his way. When he looked at it, he saw that he’d missed a call from her—not four minutes ago.
A slight apprehension fluttered in his chest. He pressed the redial button.
“Matt!”
It wasn’t Faith. It was Glo. She sounded out of breath. “Dear God, Matt!”
“Glo, what’s the matter?” Matt’s hands tightened on the steering wheel, and his foot bore down on the accelerator. He could hear a baby crying in the background. Kaleigh!
“Glo, where’s Faith?”
“It’s Rory! He’s got her! Had to get the baby out—”
“Where, Glo? The café? Did you call the sheriff?” Matt’s heart was pounding. He gripped the wheel even tighter and floored the accelerator.
“No—” she panted “—just got Kaleigh out. He—he hit me on the head. Had to sit down. Dizzy.”
“Is that Kaleigh crying? Glo? Is she all right?”
“Yeah. Hurry!”
“Glo, listen to me. Call the sheriff’s office. Get them over to the café now!”
“Okay,” Glo said, still breathing hard. “Dizzy.” The line went dead.
It sounded like Glo had a concussion. He hoped Kaleigh was all right. And Faith—
Matt’s pulse thrummed in his ears. Stockett had her.
He saw the lights of the gas station up ahead. He’d be at the café within a couple of minutes.
Dear God, don’t let me be too late.
FAITH COULDN’T BELIEVE IT. Her quickly improvised plan to knock Rory out with the safe door had almost worked.
It had hit him on the side of the head, and he’d fallen backward against a stack of cases of soft drinks, tumbling them and losing his grip on his gun.
Faith saw the light glinting off steel about two feet from where he’d landed and maybe three feet from her. She slid over far enough so that it was in reach. She could hear Rory cursing and shoving boxes.
Her fingers closed around the cold metal, just about the time he managed to scramble up. He loomed over her, tilting his head to one side and holding a hand to his temple. Still, he managed to stomp on her hand with his loafered foot.
Hot, crushing pain stole her breath. She did her best to hold on to the gun, but Rory growled and stomped again.
She shrieked and lost her grip on the gun.
When he bent down to pick it up, he wavered and nearly fell over. That gave her a chance to scuttle backward, out of his reach. She scooted across the floor, hoping to duck behind the freezer.
Rory straightened. The gun was back in his hand, and he was pointing it at her. “You bitch. You hit me! You’re going to pay for that.”
He stopped and gave his head a shake, and then he eyed the safe. Faith watched him as she inched backward, closer and closer to the big freezer. He’d just noticed that the safe door was open.
“Hah!” he barked, and with a sideways glance at her and a grunt of pain, he stuck the gun in his belt and used both hands to rummage through the papers and file folders, looking for the cash she’d told him she always kept in there.
“Where is it, Faith?” he yelled. “Where’s the cash? Tell me, and I’ll let you go.”
Faith cast about for something she could use as a weapon. Rory was too busy searching for the cash to pay close attention to her, and at least for the next few minutes he wasn’t holding his gun.
“I keep the cash behind all those papers,” she lied. In fact it was in a plain manila envelope to the right of the stacks of records he was pulling out onto the floor.
What could I hit Rory with? she asked herself. All she could see were boxes and crates.
Crates. Wooden crates. Valerio had a crowbar down here somewhere that he used to open them. But where was it? She squinted. Then she saw it lying on top of an empty crate. She glanced back at Rory as she silently closed her hand around it and lifted.
He’d abandoned the stacks of papers and decided to check the manila envelope. He dug inside it and came out clutching a bundle of bills. He crowed in triumph and stuffed the bills into his pockets.
Faith’s pulse was racing so fast that she could feel it all the way to her fingers and toes. She clutched the crowbar and crouched down, easing toward him.
With the cash stowed in his pockets, Rory pulled the gun from his belt. Faith lifted the heavy iron bar over her head with both hands.
At that instant, Rory became aware of her. He whirled. She swung the crowbar with all her might. He ducked backward, and she missed him.
The momentum of her swing sent her stumbling. She fell against the wall.
Rory’s breath
was sawing hard and fast, but he managed a laugh. “Okay then, Faith. I guess you’re finally over me. I’d say coming at your fiancé with a crowbar defines the end of the relationship.”
He raised the gun and pointed it at her.
Faith stared at him. How had she ever thought he loved her?
“Are you going to shoot me?” she asked, her voice quavering. “I’m the mother of your child. Kaleigh needs me.” Tears streamed down her face, but they weren’t for him. He wasn’t worth tears. She was crying for her child—her Kaleigh.
“Give me a break, Faith. I’m not going to shoot you.” He gave a short, sharp laugh. “Not unless I have to. I need you to help me get away.” He stood over her with the gun pointed at her head. “Get up.”
Faith didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t go with him. But what would he do if she refused? Would he shoot her?
Then she heard something. Rory heard it, too. He turned toward the stairs and then back to Faith.
“Get up!” he growled.
She didn’t move. Please, God. Let it be Matt.
Rory shifted the gun to his left hand and grabbed her arm. He jerked her up, but he couldn’t make her stand. She went limp.
“Get up, damn it!” he yelled, just as a shot rang out over Faith’s head.
She screamed.
Rory jerked, then turned and fired at the top of the stairs. Her heart wrenched. She heard wood splinter.
“Freeze, Stockett.”
It was Matt. Faith sobbed in relief.
But Rory jerked her up again, this time with his left arm, leaving his gun hand free. He dragged her around in front of him and crouched behind her. It didn’t help that she’d tried to stay limp. He’d had no trouble picking her up and setting her down where he wanted her.
“I’ll kill her,” Rory yelled. “Let me out of here. Let me get away, and you can have her!”
“You’re not going anywhere, Stockett. Put down that gun and let Faith go.”
“No! I’ve got to get out of here. I’ve got to hide. They’re going to kill me!”
“I’m going to kill you if you don’t put down that gun.” Matt’s voice was low and even, a huge contrast to Rory’s panicked shrieking.
