by Layne, Lyssa
“Chris, where are you?”
She held her breath and covered her mouth to keep from screaming out and putting Brad’s life in greater danger. She heard a sound and peaked over the top of the path. Dean clamored around and ducked behind the same tree she’d come from. The closer Brad came, the more frightened she became. Dean had a gun, but she didn’t see one on Brad. If he’d had one, it would have been in his hand now. She hugged the side of the mountain cliff and hesitantly eyed the river below. A hundred-and-fifty foot drop at the very least. Brad neared, then moved past her.
She praying he’d see Dean before it was too late. Peeking up over the ledge she realized that Brad heard the chamber of Dean’s revolver move at the same time she did, because he stopped in his tracks and hid behind a tree listening.
Christine didn’t know whether to be grateful or not the moment she saw Brad continue down the path toward the river and the rocks below her. Dean stepped out from the tree just as she'd thought Brad was safe. She tried to scream a warning, but it died in her clogged throat.
Brad continued down the path, slowed his steps, and checked his surroundings. By the time Dean worked his way closer to Brad, it was too late for Christine to do anything.
“Hold it there, Brad. Don’t take another step,” Dean called out.
Brad didn’t step forward, but slowly turned to face Dean. The only thing in their favor was that Dean stood between Brad and her. Brad spread his arms to show he carried no weapon.
“That’s far enough, you can stay right there.”
“Whatever you say.” He scanned the area, still looking for her.
“Cut the bullshit Maxwell, I’ve had enough of your crap to last me a lifetime.”
“Care to explain that comment? Considering you and I barely have anything to do with each other. What’s this all about?”
Christine couldn’t see Dean’s face, but she heard the defiant tone of his voice.
“I guess I can tell you why you’re going to die. You should have died weeks ago, but that stupid partner of mine saw the gun and jumped in front of you just as Geiger fired it.”
“What?” Brad stepped forward.
Dean aimed the gun at Brad’s chest. “You heard me, the bullet that killed Marty was meant for you.” His face was pinched in anger. His voice harsh, almost guttural.
Christine slipped to the ground on the ledge.
“You killed Marty?” Brad flexed his hands.
The anger in Brad's voice made her glad she wasn't the one on the receiving end of what Dean was about to get.
Chris pulled back up onto her knees and peaked over the edge again. She saw the incredulous look on Brad’s face.
“No, don’t be stupid. That dumb kid Geiger pulled the trigger.”
“But you were behind the shooting this whole time, and you feel no remorse?”
“Hell no, I just wish he’d got you first. That would have been easier to deal with. Marty would have fallen apart. Rosie would get sick of his sulking and leave him and I’d be there to pick up the pieces.”
“Are you telling me that you and Rosie had a thing going?”
“Not really. She was in love with Marty alright, but I suspect a small part of her is in love with you as well.” Dean raised his eyebrows in question, a smug smile on his face. “Oh, you didn't know that, did you?” He snorted.
“You're wrong. Rosie loves me like she loves her brothers, nothing more. If you thought getting rid of me would give you a chance, you’re delusional?” Brad grinned.
Christine closed her eyes, willing Brad to shut up. Don't goad him. He'll kill you.
“Are you kidding, I've got her eating out of my hand.” Dean lifted a defiant chin and snarled his lips, saying, “The kids, too.”
“You're the one who’s out of his mind.”
“Am I? I don't think so. I can kill you and get away with it. You're a fugitive or did you forget?”
Oh God. Please don't let him hurt Brad. Christine shut her eyes tightly, then opened them. She had to find a way to get his attention off Brad.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Christine bowed her head. It was all boiling down to this moment.
Would Brad be able to keep Dean talking long enough to come up with a plan?
Was Dean’s instability really a case of unrequited love and jealousy?
“What about Jared and Geiger?” Brad kept him talking
Christine listened as Brad tried to get Dean to spill his guts, while looking for a weapon to use on Dean.
“I don't know anything about Jared, but Geiger killed Marty, not me.”
Christine bit her lip hearing the casual ease with which Dean so easily discarded human life.
“What did Geiger do to Jared? And why Jared?”
“Who the hell knows or cares.” Dean let out a high-pitched maniacal sound that loosely resembled a laugh. “Hell, that queer was a sitting duck. Geiger said he was going to grab a lab coat and pretend he was drawing blood. Then he planned to inject air into that guy's veins. For all I know, he did what he said he was going to do. All I know is he missed you twice. And—”
“Twice? When was the second time?”
Christine heard the banked rage in Brad’s voice. From the look on his face, she could see he was barely in control.
“When he shot your girlfriend he was supposed to hit you. Only his aim was off and hit the girl’s fake leg instead.” Dean waved the gun around.
“Did you kill Geiger too?”
“Wait—what—Geiger’s dead?” Dean shifted his stance and frowned. He stuttered, “H—he said—we still needed him.” Dean slipped the gun into his other hand.
“What do you mean—he?” Brad gaze narrowed and slanted his head as if he hadn't heard right.
Dean’s blanched, he began waving the gun wildly, as if all of his control was suddenly lost. “He promise Geiger would get rid of you if I’d just help with Geiger?” The gun in his hand shook.
“That does it,” Brad launched himself at Dean, head-butting him in the gut. Both men went down, rolled over and over, struggling for control of the gun.
Brad straddled Dean, as each man grappled for a better hold on the weapon.
Dean tried to push it in Brad’s face.
Brad managed to force it away.
They rolled again and a single shot split the air. The smell of cordite whirled in the gentle breeze.
Christine gasped, held her breath, and prayed that Brad was all right. She gasped as Brad and Dean jumped up and circled each other.
Quick as a snake, Brad punched Dean in the nose, blood spurted over both the fighting men as they attempted to regain their top dog dominance.
Christine bent down and picked up a large rock. If they rolled close enough, she planned to use it on Dean.
Somehow Dean got in a lucky punch and knocked Brad back against the trunk of a pine tree.
She took advantage of Dean’s lack of attention and stood up making sure Brad saw her. The shock that registered on his face made her suddenly realize that Brad thought she was hanging from the edge.
With the speed a superhero, Brad launched himself at Dean and knocked him to the ground; but no matter how many times he hit him, Dean kept coming back for more.
Dean must feel like this was a do-or-die situation and assumed he had no intention of losing. He stood up, staggering to keep his balance, his eyes wide with wild rage.
Brad led with a right cross then jump kicked Dean in the chest. The crushing blow knocked him to the ground and the momentum rolled him over the cliff and into oblivion.
Christine screamed out in terror as Dean's arms clamped around her hips.
Brad crawled forward on his belly and peered over the edge. His heart stopped at the sight below.
Christine had a two-handed death grip on a root jutting out from the side of the cliff.
Dean had a tight grip around Chris’s legs.
Brad reached out and grabbed one of her wrists, then pulled with all
his might until she had one arm over the ledge and securely on the ground. He tried to reach out past her to take a hold of her pants by the belt loop, but Dean hung onto her legs and the weight was more than he could pull.
Christine’s grip wrenched from his hand.
He gazed down at the woman he loved. Terror filled her eye and she seemed to be weakening by the second.
Her eyes glistened as she begged him, “Let...me...go!”
He had no intention of doing any such thing, didn't know where he obtained the strength, but he held fast, refused to let go. He couldn’t lose her now.
She opened her hand one finger at a time. His heart seized.
“No!” He strengthened his grip on her. He was never going to let go of her again.
She couldn't take him down with her. She loved him too much, wasn't selfish enough to want him to die, too. He didn't have the strength to hold her and Dean, too. Rather than pull him over the ledge, she chose to let go of him. Why wasn't he simply giving in? She begged with her eyes, with her heart, her soul.
“Let go. Please,” she whispered. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks. She could tell him she loved him, but to what purpose? She closed her eyes, then opened them to take one last look. The determined yet terrified expression on his face startled her. Too scared for his life to be worried about her own.
“Chris, don’t let go,” he growled. “You don’t want to die. Not now. Not like this.”
Tears blurred her vision as she opened her mouth to say good-bye, but then Dean’s grip began to slip. Still, he weighed her down, and she couldn’t hold on much longer. If only—
Brad's voice brought her back. “Kick Chris! Kick like your life depends on it, because it does, Sweetheart.”
She swallowed hard, didn’t understand at first, then she obeyed and kicked for all she was worth.
Brad regained his grip.
They stared into one another’s eye’s fear meeting desperation. Another solid kick and Dean lost his grip on her right leg.
“Baby, I’m not letting go, keep kicking. Hard!” Brad ordered. The pull on her legs was excruciating. She felt the skin beneath her brace straps tearing into her flesh. With all of her might, she pulled her good leg up out of Dean’s reach, and kicked her bum leg hard enough that the brace gave way. Dean plunged to the rocks a hundred feet below, his arms wound tightly around the prosthesis.
Once Dean's added weight was gone, Brad pulled Christine to safety and into his arms with such force that the impact of her body knocked them both to the ground. Together they lay back, Christine on top of Brad, heaving for air and holding on for dear life.
Joe and Vince found them in a tangle of arms and legs, gasping for air between hysterical laughter.
“Chris?” Joe pulled her up, but she listed to one side. He looked down and saw that her leg was missing. “You sure do have a hard time hanging onto those things.”
Out of control, Christine laughed until she started to cry. Her whole body shivered, not from cold, but from residual fear and relief.
Brad pulled her into his arms and carried her back to Joe’s jeep and climbed into the front passenger seat and settled her on his lap. She wound her arms around his neck, refusing to let go.
Joe tossed the Jeep keys to Vince then climbed on Brad’s bike and led the way back to the house.
Brad carried Chris in.
Nick sat Brady up as they walked into the house looking like a beat-up motley crew. Brady opened his arms and reached out for her. Brad relinquished his hold, smiled then sat next to his grandfather while Christine and Brady hugged and cried.
He didn’t know how or when it happened but Chris had found a way into his grandfather’s heart as well.
Within an hour the house was filled with deputies, the town doctor, and several friends.
Others called Vince to make sure everyone was okay. They could barely hear themselves speak over the din of voices.
Vince pulled Brad aside and asked for details. Satisfied with his answers, Vince phoned the precinct and gave them an update on what had happened.
The additional information that Dean and Geiger had an additional accomplice sent them into a flurry of chaos trying to figure out who it might be.
By nightfall, Dean’s body was recovered and was already on its way to the ME's office. A search warrant was issued for Dean’s house, and Vince ordered George Van Norton to start the paperwork to re-instate Brad and Joe. The plans were for Nick and Christine to stay with his grandfather until Brad could return. After what the old man had been through, they didn't want to leave him alone.
Everyone else would head back to Newport Beach to give their depositions on the turn of events.
Joe couldn’t wait to get back home to his wife.
Vince was relieved that Internal Affairs had all the answers they needed to take Brad and Joe off suspension, and give them back their badges and weapons.
Brad was in his own world of hurt. Marty’s murder was solved. Rosie blamed herself for not realizing that Dean was well on his way to madness. When they returned to the city, Brad and Rosie sat down with the kids and came to an understanding of all they knew they all had to live with. Marty’s death wasn’t Brad’s fault. It wasn’t Rosie’s fault or even Marty’s fault for trying to save his friend’s life.
He pulled her aside to ask about the picture of her and Dean. The answer was innocent enough, he was helping her pick out a birthday present for Marty. He asked about the picture with the DA and Geiger, but she didn’t recall seeing them.
By the time Brad returned home, he was as weak as a newborn kitten. He crawled into bed and was out like a light and didn’t wake up for forty-eight hours.
When he awoke, his first thought was Chris. He had promised to check Jared’s apartment for clues. He knocked on Jared door and nearly passed out as if he’d seen a ghost.
“Brad? Are you all right?” Jared grabbed Brad's elbow and helped him into his apartment.
“Wha—Jesus, Jared. Dean said you were dead.”
Jared laughed. “Not hardly. Didn't someone once say 'rumors of my death are highly exaggerated' or something trite like that?”
“What happened, man?”
“I got tired of being poked and prodded and watched like the lunatic everyone was afraid of. So I came home.”
Brad almost fainted when a tall, gorgeous blonde, waltzed into the room and wrapped her arms around Jared. Jared smiled.
“I—I thought.” Brad didn’t know what to think.
“The things a best friend will do for a person. She needed me to be harmless.” Jared let out a deep chuckle.
“She’s going to kill you.”
Jared rolled his eyes. “Come on, I've got a fresh pot of coffee on.”
Brad reluctantly followed. “Uh, listen Jared. I’m not telling her, that’s up to you. I just came to see if I could find you.”
“Coward.” Jared said dryly.
“Damn straight! I’ve been in enough hot water where she’s concerned.”
The blonde busied herself pouring coffee into three mugs. She turned and handed Jared one, then one to Brad, taking the third for herself.
“If you’ll excuse me, I have to get ready for work.” She blew an air kiss to Jared and sashayed out of the room. The blonde had blue-eyed and fair-skinned with a body that didn’t end.”
“What gives?”
“Raquel—she’s a nurse.” Jared waggled his eyebrows, a borderline lascivious smile on his lips. “Now, about Christine.”
Brad peeked around the door frame where Raquel had disappeared. He cleared his throat and asked, “What do you want me to tell her?”
Jared scratched the back of his neck. “Now that I know she’s safe I’ll call her? What about you? What’s in your future?”
Brad swung his head slowly from side to side. “I don't think. Being married to a cop—”
“Married? Have you asked her?”
“Not yet, but soon.” He clamped his jaw tight and s
tared at Jared chewing on his lip to keep from laughing. “I’ll leave you to your—nurse.”
Jared took hold of Brad's elbow and ushered him to the front door. He smiled and wiggled his fingers in a fast goodbye while gently pushing Brad out the door.
Brad started laughing. Jared had snowed them all.
After leaving Jared's he went back to his office and shut the door behind him. He sat at his desk, and wrote his letter of resignation, then packed his office, not that there was much on the walls. When he was done, he stood staring out the second floor window, at the town he’d called home and said good-bye.
Brad’s drive back to his grandfather’s was long and lonely. Just as well. He needed this time to himself. To work out the years that haunted him. He glanced in the rearview mirror to make sure all was okay with the trailer transporting his motorcycle. It was still following him. He laughed, a sardonic gruff sound even to his ears. Who’d have thought he’d be moving back to the town he’d left so many years ago.
What’s done was done.
He'd quit the force even after Vince and George groveled, offering him a hell of a good raise if he'd stay. But what they didn’t know was there was an opening at the local sheriff’s office for a deputy. It sounded pretty darn good right now.
He missed Chris. He blocked out the memory of their lovemaking and cranked up the radio. Bob Seger's “Old time rock n roll” at full volume could drown out the hydrogen bomb.
Brad crossed the Foresthill Bridge and an immediate calm reigned down over his body. Newport Beach had never been his home. This was home.
It always had been and always would be. He’d just failed to see things as they had been in the old days. He couldn’t run from his past and he couldn’t run from himself.
He didn’t remember ever enjoying the drive through town as much as he did this time. He was enveloped by a warmth he never imagined. Everyone who saw him waved and shouted his name. Why had he ever thought he didn’t belong?
