Edge of Darkness

by Karen Rose

  “Not everyone wears their scars where you can see them, Mallory,” he said. “Do you know what gay bashing is?”

  Mallory nodded, but when he said no more her eyes widened. “That happened to you?”

  Gay bashing? Oh no. Poor Troy. Meredith couldn’t stand the thought that someone had hurt him like that. Kate must not have known about his assault either, because she was shocked into silence.

  Troy wasn’t paying attention to Meredith or Kate. His focus was on Mallory. “When I was fifteen. They didn’t call it that back then, of course. I spent a month in the hospital. My injuries were . . . extensive. And when I got out of the hospital, I really didn’t want to think about it. I just wanted to go forward and never think about it again, but I couldn’t because I had doctors and physical therapy and follow-up visits. And because the entire town knew. It had been written up in the local paper and everyone knew. They knew everything that had happened to me. A lot of them laughed about it. It was . . . humiliating, to say the least.”

  “How did you deal?” Mallory asked, subdued now.

  “I didn’t, not for years. Therapy wasn’t really a thing back then, not for sons of blue-collar guys who worked in a steel mill. You sucked it up and kept it in. And every time I saw one of the people who’d attacked me, I’d get physically ill. Every time I had to walk by the place it happened, I’d throw up. So I decided that no one would ever be able to hurt me again. I worked out, bulked up. Studied hard, went to college. Joined the FBI. Thought I’d made it, that I’d dealt. But every now and then something happens. I see something or hear something, and it takes me back. Just like you.”

  “How do you deal with it now?”

  He smiled at her. “Went to therapy twenty years too late, but I went. And I learned how to tell that story like it happened to somebody else.” He chuckled at her expression. “You don’t believe me, do you? Look at the blood pressure monitor. It’s normal and it has been this entire time. Do I like to talk about this? No. I’ve never even told Kate and I’m gonna take another ration of shit for that on top of the one she just gave me because I didn’t tell her about this.” He gestured to his most recent injuries.

  “There,” he said kindly when Mallory grinned. “There’s the smile I was fishing for. Mallory, there is no shame in being a victim. By definition, you didn’t do anything wrong. Now you’ve got to deal the best way you can. You’ve got an amazing support structure, so use it. Use us. We want you to succeed and be happy.”

  “Okay.” Mallory leaned down to kiss his cheek. “Thank you. For telling me.”

  “Yeah,” Meredith echoed. “Thank you. You should be the shrink.”

  Troy snorted. “I’m not that nice.” He glanced up at Kate. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you about this thing today. I was freaked out about going into a hospital, because I don’t like them, either. I’ve learned to deal with visiting other people, because I can leave whenever I want, but ambulances and these damn beds? They make me cranky.”

  “I understand,” Kate said. “I was just worried about you.”

  “Don’t be. I’m fine. And visiting hours are over. You guys need to get your asses out of here and somewhere safe.”

  Meredith got out of the chair and nudged Kate out of the way so that she could kiss Troy’s other cheek. “I wanted to thank you. You saved our lives today. You’re a hero. Bona fide.”

  His cheeks grew charmingly rosy, even as he looked away. “Just doing my job.”

  Her lipstick had left a smudge on Troy’s cheek, so Meredith leaned forward and planted a harder kiss on the top of his newly bald head. “There.”

  Troy scowled. “You did not just put a lip print on my head, did you?”

  “I did,” Meredith said. “What are you gonna do about it?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Get outta here, all of you.”

  They obeyed, Meredith returning to the chair as they said their good-byes. When they stopped at the elevator, Kate typed a text into her phone. “Van’s waiting downstairs.” The elevator opened and it was thankfully empty. Meredith didn’t want to deal with any more people tonight.

  I’m tired, she thought as the elevator opened and they made their way through the lobby toward the sliding glass doors. And her head still hurt. All she wanted to do was go back to the condo and go to sleep in the bed that hopefully still smelled like Adam. He’d eventually finish his work and he’d come to her and then they would—

  Kate stopped short as soon as they got outside. “The van is supposed to be here. I just texted them that we were coming down and they texted back that they were here.” She pulled Meredith out of the wheelchair and shoved her back toward the glass doors. “Get inside and get down. Now!”

  Meredith’s feet refused to move, frozen in panic. Papa. Papa was in the van.

  “Now, Meredith!” Kate roared. “Get inside.”

  Meredith turned to grab Mallory, but . . . “Where’s Mallory? She was right behind us.”

  “Get inside,” Kate gritted, then went still. “Where is Mallory?”

  The two of them looked at each other in horror. “Mallory!” Meredith shouted.

  “Inside,” Kate ordered, taking off at a run toward the front parking lot. “I’ll find her.”

  No. No way was Meredith hiding. “Mallory!” Running in the direction opposite the one Kate had taken, she ran over the grass and around the piles of snow until she turned the building’s corner. And her heart stopped.

  Mallory, whiter than a ghost, was being dragged away by a man wearing a ski mask.

  He had one arm over Mallory’s throat and held a gun to her head.

  Meredith’s brain turned off and her feet moved.

  Cincinnati, Ohio

  Sunday, December 20, 8:45 p.m.

  “No!” Meredith shouted at the man. “You can’t have her!”

  She continued to run, ignoring the pounding in her head and the even harder pounding of her heart. Where was everyone? No one walked around and many of the cars had inches of snow built up over their windshields, like they hadn’t been moved in weeks.

  Overflow parking, she realized. This lot was much farther from the entrance than the other lots. Nobody wanted to walk that far, especially in the cold. And so this back parking lot was nearly empty, the man’s SUV parked away from the few other cars.

  The SUV was black. Just like the one from yesterday.

  “Wait!” Panting, she slowed down when she was about ten feet away, her hands up, palms up. “You don’t want her. Take me instead. Please.”

  The man laughed as he reached behind him to open the back passenger door. “But I don’t want you.” He threw Mallory to the floorboard, where she curled into a ball. Meredith took a few steps forward then froze when he turned to face her, his gun now pointed at her. “Or maybe I do,” he said salaciously. “Keep your hands where I can see them.”

  Swallowing, Meredith made herself breathe. And think. Because everything had just fallen into place, her ears ringing with the thunderous bang of a mental gavel.

  We all thought they wanted me yesterday. But it was Mallory all along. I’m so stupid.

  She had been stupid, but she wasn’t going to be now. She still had her gun. Adam had never taken it from her, as they’d come up from the parking garage in an elevator that required a key, bypassing the CPD lobby with its normal security checks. She’d excused herself to an ER restroom, transferring it from her bra holster to her coat pocket before they’d taken her back to an exam room. But she couldn’t get to it now. He’d shoot her before she could get her hand into her pocket.

  “I said hands up,” the man growled. “Or I will kill you where you stand.”

  Realizing her hands had started to lower, Meredith did as he’d demanded. Kate, where the fuck are you? She glanced into the car to where Mallory lay, unmoving. “Let her go. She’s been through enough.”

&nb
sp; The man didn’t answer. Just reached for the collar of Meredith’s coat.

  “Freeze. FBI. Drop the gun. Now.”

  Thank God. Meredith’s knees buckled, hitting the asphalt before she could stop her fall. Finally. Kate came around the SUV to stand behind him, shoving her gun into his back.

  “I said drop the fucking gun,” Kate commanded.

  Wishing she could close her eyes, but unable to look away, Meredith watched as the man’s gloved hand opened and the gun clattered to the asphalt.

  Kate kicked it under the SUV. “Very good. Now, on your knees. Mer, you okay?” she asked when the man had dropped to his knees.

  “Yeah,” Meredith said, but it came out a hoarse grunt. She tried to moisten her mouth, but every last drop of spit had dried up. “I’m all right.”

  “Good. I want you to get Mallory out of the SUV, and the two of you to start walking.”

  Meredith obeyed, giving Mallory a little shake when she didn’t immediately respond. “Come on, honey. We’re getting out of here.”

  Mallory stirred, but didn’t get out of the car. Meredith shoved her shoulder under the girl’s arm and wound the arm around her own neck. Half lifting, half dragging, she pulled Mallory from the SUV and started walking toward a cluster of parked cars. Cover.

  Meredith glanced around, fearing the man was not alone. Quickly she pulled her gun from her pocket. “Mallory, baby, you have to walk. I can’t carry you the whole way. You have to help me.”

  Mallory’s back straightened a few degrees and her feet began to shuffle. It wasn’t a full walk, but it was enough to allow Meredith to pick up their pace.

  “Are you hurt? Did he shoot you?” Meredith tried to see if there was any blood on Mallory’s clothes, but it was too dark. Finally reaching the parked cars, she dragged her behind a minivan and gently guided her to the ground.

  Just in time to hear a shot followed by a nauseating crunching sound.

  Kate. Meredith inched toward the rear of the minivan until she could see around it. Oh no. God no. Kate lay in a heap on the asphalt near the SUV.

  And the man was charging Meredith like a bull. Not letting herself think, Meredith racked her gun, bringing it into position as she’d practiced hundreds of times. And she pulled the trigger.

  The man staggered back a few steps, staring down at his chest in disbelief, but he didn’t bleed. A vest, she realized. He’s wearing a vest. Dammit.

  He raised his gaze, eyes narrowing in fury. He took a few more determined steps toward her, so she pulled the trigger again, hitting his thigh. He stumbled, his mouth opening on a cry she couldn’t hear because her ears were ringing from the gunfire. But she’d hit him! She felt keen satisfaction, until he disappeared between two of the vehicles.

  Shit. Mallory. Meredith hurried back to her, crouching over her seconds before the man reappeared from behind the boxy Scion parked just beyond the minivan. He was bent at the waist so that he led with his torso. Which was protected.

  “You can’t have her!” Meredith snarled and fired at his head, but her hand was shaking so badly that the shot went wild. Instantly she dropped her aim, firing again at his chest. Then his legs. One bullet had to hit. Just one. Please, God.

  But nothing did, because he kept coming and she kept firing until— Click click. Meredith pulled the trigger and . . . nothing.

  She’d emptied the magazine and he was still approaching. Except now he’d straightened—and was coming faster.

  “You’re gonna be sorry you fucked with me,” he said, his words barely audible because all the shots had dulled her hearing. “I’ll play with you a while before I kill you. But first, you’ll watch me play with her.”

  Meredith wanted to run. Wanted to flee. But she didn’t because Mallory was lying on the ground, so very still.

  “Then you’ll have to kill me,” she shouted, “because I’m not letting you take her!”

  Meredith hunched down over Mallory, making herself dead weight when she felt his hand clench in the back of her coat, so that when he tossed her, she rolled instead of flying through the air.

  “No!” she yelled, crawling back toward Mallory, because he was reaching for her.

  Meredith halted when Mallory suddenly moved, her hand rising to his face, silver glinting in the light of the parking lot lamps. A knife. Mallory had a knife.

  The knife sliced through the man’s mask, and even through the dull roar in her ears, Meredith could hear his scream. He reared up, staggering backward.

  Another shot rang out and the man jerked to the side, his right hand instantly reaching to clamp his left upper arm.

  Two more shots fired in rapid succession. “Step away from the women! Now!”

  Meredith knew that voice, even muffled and muted. Kate. She’s not dead. Oh God, she’s not dead. On her hands and knees, Meredith collapsed, her arms no longer supporting her weight. Her cheek scraped against the asphalt, but she didn’t care. The voice sounded far away, but it was Kate.

  He ran, the man. He backed up and fled, dragging his injured leg behind him.

  Sirens filtered through the roaring in her ears and Meredith burst into tears. Help. Help is coming.

  Shaking arms gathered her close. When she looked up, it was Mallory’s dark eyes that looked down at her. Mallory’s arms that held her.

  But Meredith couldn’t stop crying. She tried, she really tried. Two more arms encircled her and Meredith could smell Kate’s perfume and it made her cry even harder.

  The three of them huddled together until another thought penetrated the haze of her mind. “Papa.” Meredith lurched away, looking around wildly. “Where’s Papa?”

  “He’s okay. He got hit on the head, but he’s okay. I’m not lying to you.” Kate held out a hand, like she was calming a feral animal. Which was probably fair. With her heart slamming against her ribs and a bad case of the shakes, Meredith felt like a skittish deer.

  Then Meredith noticed the slice in Kate’s sleeve and that the fabric was dark and shiny. “You’re hurt,” she said numbly.

  “I’ve had worse.” Kate leaned back against the minivan and closed her eyes as people began to rush to their sides. “The cavalry is here.”

  Cincinnati, Ohio

  Sunday, December 20, 9:25 p.m.

  The Gruber Academy. Linnea looked up at the sign with grim determination. It had taken her almost three hours to walk the two miles from downtown to the proper-looking school in the tony neighborhood, because she’d had to stop to hide and rest. And one time she’d stopped to wash Butch’s blood and brains from her face and hair with water from a garden hose she’d found hooked up next to a loading dock behind a bar. The water had been icy, but being clean had been worth the discomfort. Plus she no longer was as noticeable. People covered in blood tended to draw stares.

  Now she needed shelter. The school was surrounded by a chain-link fence that was taller than she was, but secured with a chain that was a foot too long, so there was a gap between the gates. Her sucky appetite was going to work in her favor for once. She slipped through, determined to find somewhere to hide while she waited to see if she saw him arrive to pick up or drop off his daughter, Ariel. It didn’t have to be warm. Just not exposed.

  She found what she’d been searching for in the minibus parked behind the school. It was a converted van. Older, but freshly painted. Older was good, in this case. Less likely to have an alarm. Getting the door open wouldn’t be a problem. She’d lived on the street for a few years before being sucked into the system and had stolen her share of stuff to survive. She wasn’t proud of that fact, but hoped she hadn’t lost her touch.

  She gripped the bus’s antenna and twisted, relieved when it unscrewed. She didn’t want to actually break it. If her years with Andy had taught her anything, it was that she was as respectable as the respect she gave others.

  Andy. The wave of unexpected
grief nearly cut her at the knees. I miss you, Andy. So much. She’d avenge the man who’d loved her unconditionally if it was the last thing she did. The vow gave her the strength to continue. She removed the antenna and surveyed the door locks through the bus’s windows.

  Then laughed out loud. The bus was unlocked. Only in a rich neighborhood, she thought. People thought fences and gates made them safer. They were lucky that all she wanted was a place to sleep. She started to replace the antenna, then reconsidered. It would make a decent weapon if she were attacked up close.

  At least Butch wouldn’t be coming for her again. She climbed in, closing the door behind her and hoping like hell there were no cameras announcing her presence. She moved to the back of the van and wanted to cry.

  Blankets. Stacks of blankets. And bottles of water. And protein bars.

  It wasn’t a real bed in a warm shelter, but it was more than enough. Fashioning a bed and pillow from the blankets, she took her gun from her pocket and slid it under the pillow. Just in case. Then she let herself sleep.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Cincinnati, Ohio

  Sunday, December 20, 9:30 p.m.

  Adam shoved through the crowd, muttering “Excuse me” when he earned a dirty look, but he really didn’t care. He went through the electric doors and headed straight to the ER, flashing his shield when a staff member tried to stop him from entering the area.

  Meredith is alive. She is okay. She is not harmed. Mallory was the target all along, but she is okay. She is not harmed either. And I’m going to kill Kate. Except she is hurt.

  The words had been cycling through his mind from the moment he heard the call go out over the radio. Shots fired. Possible hostage situation. Casualties. He and Deacon had dropped everything, leaving the Voss crime scene in the capable hands of Trip and Scarlett.