No Man's Land

by Sara Driscoll

  Stevenson was dangling from one hand as his other hand flailed and his legs kicked futilely in the air.

  Dangling from one hand was bad enough, but the wet metal had plenty of slide and he wouldn’t be able to hold on for long.

  Her fear of heights dissipated in the face of his imminent death. Throwing most of her caution aside, Meg climbed down more rapidly, eschewing safer hand- and footholds for speed.

  She knew she must be about fifty feet in the air still but opted to not look down. That way she could pretend it was only twenty feet.

  “Hang on! I’m coming!”

  Another metallic shriek meant she had to look to determine how close she was to him.

  Not close enough.

  “Hang on!”

  “Help me!”

  “Find a foothold!”

  “I . . . can’t . . .”

  She was going to lose him.

  She was now getting close enough to read the utter terror in his eyes. She had to figure out how to get a stable-enough handhold to be able to grab him without letting him jerk her into thin air, killing them both.

  From below, she heard Brian bellowing her name, but she shut it out and simply concentrated on the task at hand.

  Get your legs wrapped around one of the crossbeams. You’ll need to support twice the weight.

  She moved around to the side of the support column adjacent to Stevenson and slid her legs inside, slipping her boots underneath and locking her ankles for stability. Then, clamping her right hand around a crossbeam, she leaned out into the buffeting wind, her left hand extended to him. “Take my hand.”

  The blue eyes that turned to her seemed overbright in the starkly white face, the raindrops like tears against his cheeks.

  “Take my hand,” she repeated, stretching even farther.

  He lunged for her, wildly, frantically. And missed.

  “Again!” she ordered. “You can do this.”

  He surged upward, trying to pull himself up enough to make contact. His fingers touched hers, scrabbling for purchase. Then his hand slipped and he was gone, spinning off into the air, his scream following him down.

  Meg stared down in horror, frozen, her hand still extended, reaching for him, the rain dripping from her fingers in a near-constant stream.

  The scream abruptly cut off as he landed on one of the support piles jutting up from the river.

  She turned away, pulling herself up and wrapping her arms around the nearest crossbeam she could reach, and tried to drag air into her shocked lungs as her entire body shook.

  The crisis past, now all she could do was hold on.

  She didn’t know how long she stayed there, wrapped around the support beam, her head bowed and her cheek pressed against cold metal, rain streaming off her hood, too scared to move in case another crossbeam gave way or she slipped and joined Stevenson in an awful death.

  Finally, the sound of her name being called penetrated her brain.

  Todd?

  It sounded as if he was nearby, but she knew full well he was on the platform, saving Mani Ramachandaran’s life.

  “Meg. Meg, it’s me.”

  She raised her head, opening her eyes for the first time in minutes.

  Webb was at eye level only a few feet away, swaying slightly in the wind.

  She blinked at him. “What . . . ? How?”

  “I’m here to take you down. Look up.”

  She blindly followed his instruction, tipping her face into the rain. Up above, Smaill and McCord were braced at the end of the platform, holding the rope she now realized supported the harness Webb wore.

  “Brian’s below with the dogs. McCord came up to help Smaill with the rescue gear. They’re going to lower us down,” he continued. He slid a rope around her and tightened the slack, snugging her against him, and clipped the free end onto his harness. “You’re safe now. I’ve got you. You can let go of the beam.”

  She did then, letting go of her white-knuckled grip on the crossbeam and transferring it to him.

  “You okay?”

  Her face buried against the warmth of his throat, she nodded. “Just get me the hell down from here.”

  “With pleasure.” Webb gave a thumbs-up to Smaill, and slowly, carefully, they let out the rope.

  Two minutes later, relief swept through her as her feet touched solid ground.

  Webb slowly unclenched her fingers to loosen her death grip around his neck and transferred her hands to his shoulders, where they latched on again hard enough to make him wince. “We’re down. You can relax now.”

  “My brain knows that, but my body hasn’t got the message yet. Give me a minute.”

  “Take as long as you need.” Ignoring the harness and the carabiners that dug into their bellies, he gripped her hips, holding her close. “You know, that was a hell of a stunt you pulled up there. You scared the crap out of me. I didn’t know if I’d get to you in time. We had to dig the equipment out of Smaill’s pack, set it up, get me out on the ledge, and then down to you. I kept looking down expecting to see you floating in the river beside Stevenson.”

  Meg let out a laugh that cracked with strain more than humor. “You and me both. All I could do was hold on. Not very proactive of me.”

  “You’d been damned proactive up to then. While you had a life to save, you didn’t give two thoughts to the risk you were taking.”

  “Until he went down, and then it was all I could think about.” She looked up at him and finally released his shoulder to cup his jaw with one hand. “I haven’t said thank you.”

  “No thanks required. I’m just relieved he was our only loss. The whole thing could have gone sideways in so many ways. As it is, Beaumont may put your ass in a sling for risking your life like that.”

  “It wouldn’t be the first time. And likely won’t be the last.” She went up on tiptoe and pressed a kiss to his mouth. “That’s all the thank you I can do here and now. But there’ll be a much better one later. In private.”

  His gaze went hot. “I won’t say no to that.”

  “Would you let go of her already.” Brian’s irritated voice sounded behind them. “I need to know she’s in one piece.”

  Webb laughed as he unroped Meg from him and passed her to Brian so he could shuck off the harness.

  “God Almighty, you scared about twenty years off me,” Brian scolded, clamping his arms around her so tightly she had trouble drawing breath.

  “Just think about how many it scared off me.” The words bubbled up with relieved laughter. But the laughter caught abruptly as her gaze landed on Brett Stevenson. “Oh, Brian.” She pushed away from him.

  Stevenson had landed faceup about fifteen feet from the edge of the concrete platform, the pier support pile impaling him to protrude gorily from his abdomen. He lay limp, his hands floating on the surface of the river, his feet submerged in river water running red with blood. His eyes, open and glassy, stared up into the rain.

  Webb came to stand on the other side of her, and the three of them stood silent for a moment, staring at the man who thought someone else’s death was justified for his financial gain.

  “I was willing to send him to jail for life, but I tried to save him this,” Meg murmured.

  “I know,” Webb said simply.

  “I watched from below as you tried to save him,” Brian said. “And I know how terrifying that must have been for you, but you did it anyway. You’re not responsible for this. He went out there of his own volition.”

  Meg sighed. “Part of me knows that. The other part knows this isn’t how it was supposed to end.”

  In the distance, the first wail of sirens pierced the air.

  “On the bright side, Mrs. Ramachandaran is going to make it,” Webb said.

  That jerked Meg out of her contemplation. “She is?”

  “Knowing what we were dealing with, I made sure I had intravenous vitamin K in my med pack. That’s the antidote to an anticoagulant like difethialone. I had to assume that’s still
what he was using, so I had it on hand for when we found her. She’s a fighter, that one. Fought him the whole way. Slowed him down, made getting her up to the top platform a nightmare. I administered it up top, and it’s already working. Smaill and McCord will stay with her until we get a team up there.”

  “Local law enforcement marine unit, local field agents, and EMTs are on the way,” said Brian. “I’ve already talked to Craig and Kate, and they’re both waiting for a follow-up from you. But first, the dogs are back about twenty feet out of the rain, and Hawk must be going crazy right now waiting for you to let him know you’re okay.”

  Later, after Meg’s reunion with Hawk, after explanations and statements, and after the rain finally stopped, they made their way down the pier and onto the shoreline. As a group they turned and looked back at the coal dumper, standing tall against steel-gray clouds and the backdrop of the river that had been its purpose for decades.

  Webb slung an arm over Meg’s shoulders. “No need to stick around. We’ve done enough today.”

  As if to punctuate the sentiment, Hawk gave a hearty bark that was echoed by Lacey.

  Brian laughed. “Sounds like Lacey agrees.”

  “I think we all agree,” said Smaill.

  McCord nodded. “I’ll drink to that.”

  “That’s because you want to head home and get this story written up,” Meg accused. “You’re already eyeing tomorrow’s front-page headline.”

  McCord rolled his eyes skyward and innocently whistled a few tuneless bars. Then he grinned.

  Meg laughed and looked down at Hawk. “You all set, buddy?”

  Hawk simply gazed up at her with a canine smile and wagged his tail furiously.

  “Me too.”

  Together, they turned their backs on the end of the case and the man who was responsible for so much death and pain.

  Justice had been found.

  It was time to go home.

  Epilogue

  Wednesday, November 21, 8:10 PM

  Jennings residence

  Arlington, Virginia

  “Even after a shower and clean clothes, I swear I still feel chilled from all that rain.” Brian knelt on the floor in front of the roaring fire that Chuck had built in the fireplace and held his hands out toward the warmth, letting out a satisfied sigh. “This should finally get rid of it, though.”

  With the headlong rush now over, Craig had the teams drive their rented vehicles from New Castle back to DC. Brian and Meg and the dogs had gone straight to the Hoover Building to debrief with Craig; Kate had still been out of the office, but they’d touch base with her later.

  While Meg drove back to Arlington, Brian headed home but promised he’d be back at Meg’s by eight o’clock for a late dinner.

  One by one, the whole team arrived. Webb stopped at his apartment for a shower and dry clothes but had still beaten Meg back to Arlington. After picking up Cody, McCord had gone straight to the house to meet Cara and bring her up to date on the search. Meg got back with enough time to shower and change into leggings and a comfy, faded Richmond PD sweatshirt. Smaill and Brian met in the driveway and came in together.

  Now the group was gathered around the fireplace in the living room. Webb slouched comfortably on the couch with Meg curled up beside him, her legs tucked under her. McCord sat in the overstuffed armchair, his stockinged feet propped on the coffee table and his laptop balanced on his knees. Cara sat with her back propped against his chair, Saki stretched out along her leg, snoring quietly. Smaill sprawled in Meg’s ancient, much-loved recliner. The other dogs were scattered around the room—under the coffee table, on the dog bed, by the fireplace.

  “When’s the pizza getting here?” McCord asked, his eyes locked on his monitor as he typed.

  “Any minute now.” Cara tapped him on the knee. “Are you going to stop typing to eat?”

  “Paper gets put to bed at midnight. I’m on the clock. This is going out for tomorrow’s front page if it kills me.”

  “You can’t be writing the whole thing from scratch. You must have had this story half written already,” Meg said.

  McCord stopped typing long enough to shoot her a sideways glance. “More than half. I’d never make it otherwise. I’ll stop when the pizza arrives. A man has to eat.” He started typing again.

  “Amen to that.” Webb stretched his long legs out under the coffee table, comfortably crossing his ankles. “I’m so hungry, I could eat a horse right now.”

  As if on cue, the doorbell rang.

  “Perfect timing. Sorry, Saki, I need to get this.” Cara climbed to her feet. Meg started to rise off the couch, but Cara waved her down. “Sit, I’ve got it.”

  “I’m buying.”

  “Nope. When I placed the order, I put it on Clay’s credit card.”

  She waited, grinning at her sister, mouthing the words One . . . two . . . thr—

  “Wait.” McCord’s head shot up. “You did what?”

  “I did no such thing. But the pizza is here, and I thought that might be the only way to get your attention off your article. You said you wanted to eat,” she tossed over her shoulder with a grin as she went to meet the delivery man.

  Within minutes, McCord’s laptop had been discarded to the kitchen counter and everyone resettled around the fire with their dinner, bottles of beer, and glasses of wine.

  Brian took a big bite of his loaded slice and sat back with a sigh. “So good.”

  “And so needed after this case,” Meg agreed.

  “No kidding.” Brian pulled a piece of sausage off his pizza and tossed it to Lacey, sitting next to him and tracking the slice’s every movement with her eyes.

  “You men,” Cara scolded. “You insist on feeding the dogs during meals. You’re a bad influence.”

  “I can’t help it. She looks at me with those big brown eyes . . .” Brian looked at Lacey to find her staring at him, her head tilted quizzically to one side. “I just can’t resist her.” A piece of ham followed the sausage.

  “Softie.”

  “Oh, totally. She knows it, too.”

  Meg’s phone rang where it sat on the coffee table tucked between pizza boxes. She groaned and reached for it.

  “Do you have to get it?” Webb asked. “After the day you’ve had . . .”

  “If Craig even tries to put us back on the clock, he knows he’s going to get an earful.” Meg glanced at her phone screen. “It’s not Craig, it’s Kate.” She accepted the call. “Hi, Kate.”

  She listened for a few minutes, occasionally asking questions but mostly staying silent. Then she thanked Kate for the call and hung up.

  She put the phone down on the coffee table and just sat staring at it for a moment.

  Webb rubbed a hand over her forearm. “Hey, you in there?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah.” She took a deep breath, let it out, and reached for her plate, buying a little more time as she took a bite of pizza, chewed, and swallowed. “That was Kate.”

  “So you said.” Brian leaned back on an extended arm so he could look up at her. “What did she say?”

  “She tracked down Peter Stevenson. In fact, she was with him when my text came through that we’d found Brett. That he was dead. So she broke the news to him right then. He was devastated.” Setting her plate down on the table, she looked over and met Brian’s eyes. “He had no idea his grandson was killing investors so he’d be the only one left. Kate has no doubt about his sincerity. It wrecked him. He couldn’t talk for a full ten minutes after she told him. He just shut down.”

  “Damn.”

  “Unfortunately, this will likely be the end of Peter Stevenson,” said Webb. “The cancer is killing him, and his systems are slowly shutting down. This kind of stress will weaken him even further.”

  “So many dead, and for what?” Meg could hear the bitterness in her tone but couldn’t filter it out. “What a waste of life.”

  “It is,” McCord agreed. “But don’t
forget that we saved the last three victims. Look at the way things were going. Since Peter found out in September that his grandfather’s treatment had failed, he’d been on a mission. He’d been working his way through those he’d already planned and making plans for the few who were left. That’s probably why we went nearly two weeks between the last kill and this one. I bet if he’d gotten past us and been allowed to continue, we would have seen the last two victims die inside of the next week. He was fighting the clock just as much as his grandfather was. But we stopped him. Take it from me as someone who spends way more time covering the dark side of the human condition than the light—you have to let yourself focus on the wins, not just the failures. Otherwise you’ll go crazy.”

  “And you won’t be ready to take on the next case,” Brian added. “Which we don’t really have to tell you, because you already know it.” He tapped his temple, a private message just for her. There’s not many times the case gets to you right here.

  She gave him a half smile and nodded. “I do. This case just got under my skin. Usually at the end of a case, I’m happy about how it turned out, or at least satisfied. But this time . . . it’s more than that. Sadness at the worthless loss of life. Rage that his payment for his crimes was over like—” She snapped her fingers. “Happiness that we stopped him before he could kill Mrs. Ramachandaran.” She sagged back against the couch and against the warmth of Webb’s body. “And so damn tired.”

  “Can I say something?” Smaill asked as everyone turned to him. “I’m new to this group, new to this kind of investigation. I know Webb’s been with you a few times, but this was an eye-opener for me. Here’s the outsider take on what I just witnessed: You guys are amazing. You’ve been working this case for about six weeks now. And from what I’ve heard from Webb, this wasn’t your only case, and you’ve been called out on other searches. I’ve been witness to some of the setbacks, some of the victims you’ve lost, even when you thought you had a chance at them. But you also saved some victims you thought were beyond help. You made a real difference.”