Option to Kill nm-3

by Andrew Peterson

  Back at the corner, Nathan had seen a green street sign saying they were on Fashion Hills Boulevard, but it didn’t seem like much of a boulevard. The only cars present were parallel-parked against its curbs.

  “Lauren, are you wearing contact lenses to make your eyes blue?”

  “No, they’re just blue like that. Everyone stares at me. It’s so rude.”

  “I know the feeling.”

  “My mom has one brown eye and one blue eye. She wears contacts to hide it. It’s kinda freaky looking. It’s called heterochromia iridis.”

  “I’m impressed.” He knew of the condition but hadn’t known its medical name. He really wanted to ask more questions about her mother — like, if she had Nathan’s old CIA moniker, what else did she know? This rift in his personal security had to be dealt with — otherwise he’d spend the rest of his life looking over his shoulder. Harv and his family could be at risk, too. But now wasn’t the time. At least the police wouldn’t be able to trace his Mustang back to him. It was listed as belonging to the US Department of State. That would set off all kinds of bells and whistles in DC, but he couldn’t worry about it. The emergency travel bag he’d left in the Mustang didn’t contain any ID, but it did have a change of clothes, a toiletry kit, and fifteen-hundred bucks in twenties.

  Lauren broke the silence. “You shot the man in the car.”

  Nathan didn’t say anything.

  “Did you kill him?”

  “No, I only neutralized him so he couldn’t come after us.”

  “Did you want to?”

  “There was a time in my life when I would’ve … but I’m not that person anymore. But to answer your question, yes, I wanted to kill him.”

  “Me too. He looked at me in a bad way.”

  “You mean the way a grown man looks at a grown woman? Like that?”

  “He was creepy.”

  “You’re a brave girl. What you did took guts — I mean the way you handled yourself when I was following you on the freeway.”

  “I was really scared.”

  “You did fine. Trust me.”

  “You seem like a soldier. Were you a soldier?”

  “A long time ago. Marines.”

  “My stepdad was a Marine. Did you ever kill anyone?”

  “Yes.”

  “Was it hard, you know, like … Did you feel bad about it?”

  “Shh. There’s someone up ahead. Stop running.”

  “Where?” she whispered. “I don’t see anyone.”

  “Shh.”

  On both sides of the street, landscaped embankments sloped up from the sidewalks. Nathan looked toward the sound he’d heard. On the opposite side of the street, an elderly man with a small dog descended some narrow concrete stairs. The stairs looked to connect to the street above them to the north. He’d heard the jingle of the dog’s collar.

  The man looked at them. “Did you guys hear gunshots?”

  Nathan stopped. “Yeah, it sounded like it, but it could’ve been firecrackers. Hard to tell.”

  “Are you new to the neighborhood?”

  “Yeah,” Lauren said. “We live about a mile from here.”

  “Well, it’s a good neighborhood. Must’ve been kids.”

  “Probably,” Nathan said. “Have a nice evening.”

  “You too.”

  When they were out of earshot, Nathan said, “Why don’t you want the police involved? I saw you say ‘no police.’”

  “The man had a badge.”

  “The man in the Escalade, the man I just shot?”

  “He showed it to me.”

  “Can you describe it? Did it have a star, anything like that?”

  “I think so.”

  He reevaluated his earlier assessment. This girl wasn’t eighty pounds of trouble, she was eighty pounds of pure trouble. Had he just shot a police officer? And what about the other two? The suits from the sedan — suits wearing body armor. They were carrying Heckler & Koch MP5s, the weapon of choice for many federal agencies. He needed more info, but first things first. They needed to keep moving.

  “We need to start running again.”

  They hustled past a private clubhouse with a pool and tennis courts.

  “Where’re we going?” she asked.

  “Trolley.”

  “Trolley? What trolley?”

  “Are you from San Diego?”

  “No, I’m from Boston.”

  “You don’t sound like you’re from Boston.”

  “I’m not supposed to tell anyone where I’m from.”

  “Why is that?”

  “I’m in the witness security program ’cause I saw something I wasn’t supposed to.”

  Nathan stopped running and faced her. “Are you talking about the federal witness security program run by US Marshals?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  He stared at her. Eighty pounds of trouble just turned into several tons. “Lauren, are you telling me I just shot three federal law enforcement officers? You said you’d been kidnapped. Federal agents don’t kidnap people!”

  “Please don’t be mad at me.” She started to cry.

  Had the Amber Alert been wrong? He knew the system wasn’t perfect. Mistakes happened. Why hadn’t the driver or the two gunmen identified themselves? The Escalade’s driver hadn’t acted like a federal agent, he’d acted more like a crime-family thug or sexual predator.

  He knelt and took her hand. “I’m sorry. We both need to calm down. Look, I’m sorry for snapping at you. But try to understand the kind of trouble I’m in. We’re in.”

  “You want to get rid of me.”

  “Lauren, listen to me very carefully. I’m not trying to get rid of you.” He put a hand over his heart. “I give you my word as a marine. Soldier’s honor.”

  “Promise?”

  “I promise. We’re in this together. We need to keep moving. Do you hear the siren?”

  She nodded.

  “I know this may be difficult, given everything you’ve been through, but you need to trust me, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  The siren came from the southwest, probably down on Friars Road. If the man walking his dog kept going, he’d discover the accident scene and probably tell the arriving officer he’d seen a man and a girl walking away from the accident. Nathan estimated the SDPD cruiser would be at the wrecked SUV in ninety seconds. Within ten minutes, this entire neighborhood could be crawling with cops. He didn’t plan on being around for the party.

  They turned south on a street just west of the tennis courts. The street’s surface changed from asphalt to concrete.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I didn’t mean to make you mad.”

  “I wasn’t mad. You know, like, angry mad. Don’t worry about it.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “We need to blend in and look like a father-daughter team. It’s really important. If you see a cop, don’t react at all. Pretend like we haven’t done anything wrong. A little farther ahead, we’re going to hike down a small canyon and head across the street into the mall.”

  “Are you sure you’re not mad at me?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “I made the man in the black car mad at me. I told him since I was just a kid, he should disable the passenger-side airbag.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He told me I was stupid and to shut up.”

  Nathan didn’t respond.

  “I’m not stupid,” she said loudly.

  “Hey, I didn’t say you were. Keep your voice down.”

  “I don’t like being called stupid.”

  “Nobody does.” He surveyed their surroundings. “Let’s stop running and walk quickly.”

  “The man said he was going to teach me to be smart.”

  Nathan didn’t like the sound of that.

  “What happened to your face?” Lauren asked after a short silence.

  “I’d rather not talk about it.”

  “Why not? It’s no big deal.”

  “If you say
so.”

  “You don’t have any children, do you.” It wasn’t a question.

  “What makes you say that?”

  “I can just tell.”

  “Are we going to walk or talk?”

  “We can do both, you know.”

  “No, I don’t have any children.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “It’s okay, you don’t have to talk to me.”

  He did his best R. Lee Ermey imitation. “Well, thank you very much. May I be in charge for a while?”

  “I don’t like that movie.”

  “You’ve seen Full Metal Jacket? And you remember that line? You’re not old enough to watch that movie.”

  “My stepdad liked it. He watched it a bunch of times. I don’t like the bathroom scene.”

  “Yeah, that’s hard to watch. Who’s your stepdad?”

  “He’s dead.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I didn’t know him very well.”

  “How did he die?”

  “I’m not supposed to talk about it, but he was murdered.”

  “Murdered?” Once more, Nathan wondered what he was getting himself into. Too many things didn’t make sense. “How long ago?”

  “Last night.”

  Nathan stopped and faced her. “Last night?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I’m really sorry, Lauren.”

  This poor kid had been through the wringer. He toyed with the idea that she could be a pathological liar playing some elaborate mind game, but his instincts said no. The men with the machine guns weren’t lies, nor was her abductor.

  “You promise you won’t ditch me?”

  “I promise.”

  On the south side of the street, a short hedge followed the contour of the canyon’s rim. Below that, Friars Road and the Fashion Valley Mall awaited.

  One hundred feet lower on Friars Road, the siren they’d heard materialized from the west in the form of a police cruiser. Its blue-and-red flashing light bar stood out among the cars pulling to the curb. It raced below their position on its way to the crash site.

  Nathan found a narrow trail weaving its way through the sagebrush. It wasn’t difficult going, but Lauren lost her footing in several places. He kept her from falling. “You’re doing fine. We’re almost there.”

  “How do you know about this?”

  “I’ve seen it from the road. I think people use it as a shortcut.”

  The bottom of the path dumped them into a small parking lot serving a three-story office building. Nathan stopped and put a finger to his lips. He inhaled through his nose and held still. As far as he could tell, no one was around. The fading siren and rush of cars along Friars Road were the only sounds.

  “We’re going to head out to the street and cross at the signal.”

  They walked down a steep driveway leading to Friars Road and turned west along the sidewalk. Nathan pushed the pedestrian button on the signal’s standard and looked to his left.

  A familiar-looking sedan barreled toward them.

  What the hell?

  How could this be the same black sedan from Ulric Street?

  Its passenger-side window was already down.

  Nathan made eye contact with the driver. The same driver who’d kidnapped Lauren.

  Behind a rising MP5, a smile formed on the kidnapper’s bloody face.

  Nathan had to protect Lauren and draw his gun, but there wasn’t time for both.

  He made the decision.

  Rather than reach for the SIG, he picked Lauren up and literally hurled her over a chest-high retaining wall beside the sidewalk. As best he could tell, she had about two feet of protective cover on the other side.

  Nathan yelled for her stay down and made a move for his gun, but too late.

  Its antilock brakes thumping, the sedan arrived like a harbinger of death.

  Chapter 5

  After all he’d been through in the Marines and the CIA, his life would end like this?

  Right here? Right now? It seemed so random and pointless.

  Then things happened fast.

  Just as the kidnapper pulled the trigger, the sedan jumped forward from being rear-ended by a pickup truck. The sedan’s airbags deployed in simultaneous claps. The distinctive crunch of metal on metal was followed by the thunderous percussion of the machine gun.

  The shooter’s arm jerked. The slugs shattered the rear passenger window and careened off the retaining wall.

  Nathan crouched and shielded his eyes against the explosion of tempered glass. He looked up and saw fresh blood spatter on the rear window. The two men he shot on Ulric must’ve been in the backseat, and the collision forced the driver’s arm in their direction.

  Time to move.

  “Come on!”

  Lauren didn’t respond, she was clearly frozen from shock and disbelief.

  “Lauren!” he yelled. “Let’s go.”

  She sat up and reached for him. Two seconds later, they sprinted into the slowing traffic on Friars Road, heading for the mall. Nathan glanced over his shoulder and saw the kidnapper fighting the airbag. Well, he’s two for two, Nathan thought. There’s nothing like a second airbag to the chops to ruin a guy’s evening.

  Two more sirens rang out, probably fire and medical.

  Nathan and Lauren kept running as the smashed sedan sped away from the scene, its plastic rear bumper dragging along the asphalt.

  “He tried to kill us!”

  “Come on, we have to clear the area.” They hurried down the street leading into the Fashion Valley Mall. The parking garage on their left was fairly quiet, only a few shoppers looking for spaces. Nathan looked over his shoulder, relieved to see no one had focused on them. Several people were out of their vehicles, approaching the wrecked pickup.

  Nathan took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He needed to quash the adrenaline coursing through his body. Those nine-millimeter slugs hadn’t missed by more than a few feet. Luck favors the well prepared, although he knew more than luck had been involved. Nathan didn’t consider himself a deeply religious man, but offered a silent thank-you for the fortunate outcome just the same.

  Something didn’t track, though. That sedan should’ve been miles away by now. Assuming the kidnapper could get his wounded comrades into the sedan in about a minute, that left plenty of time to leave the area. Why had Lauren’s kidnapper been driving along Friars Road right then? Maybe he’d stayed in the area hoping to gun them down like he’d just attempted to. But with a banged-up car, a gunshot to his leg, and two wounded in the backseat, why risk cruising the area? The guy should’ve been concerned about bleeding to death, never mind the danger of being seen by police. Unless he was police. Lauren said they had badges. Would any law enforcement officer — federal or otherwise — execute a drive-by shooting? It seemed outrageous unless they were dirty, which might explain a lot. But if they weren’t cops, and weren’t dirty, what was so important? If Lauren was a protected witness and her kidnapper wanted her eliminated, why leave her alive at all? Why didn’t he just kill her and stuff her body into the back of the SUV for disposal?

  Her kidnapper obviously wanted her alive, and Nathan didn’t like the potential reasons why. She said he’d looked at her in a bad way. Anger flared at the thought of this little girl being brutalized by the creep. Maybe Lauren had information and her kidnapper planned to wring it out of her and pleasure himself in the process? Maybe they intended to use her as leverage to keep someone silent, or the reverse — to make someone talk. Whatever the case, he intended to find out.

  For now, they needed to merge with the mall’s patrons. They were just another father-daughter combo out for a little shopping. Fashion Valley Mall had a two-story, open-air design. Retail stores occupied a central walkway with smaller branches connecting to it. It shouldn’t be difficult to disappear in there.

  Nathan swept the immediate area for security guards and didn’t see any, but that could change. T
he unmistakable clatter of automatic-weapon fire would draw anyone with military, police, or security guard training over here to investigate. Nathan didn’t intend to be around when they arrived. As far as the authorities were concerned, he was a wanted man. If anyone had witnessed the first collision at Ulric, they would’ve reported seeing a tall man purposely sideswipe another vehicle, shoot two men in the street, grab a little girl, shoot the driver of the wrecked vehicle, and then flee the scene on foot. Quite a nasty little cocktail he’d created for himself tonight. Pour in a shot of felony hit-and-run, add some attempted murder, and top it off with a twist of kidnapping.

  A perfect time to enter the controlled environment of Nordstrom.

  “We’re going in here.”

  “What’re we doing?” Lauren whispered as they walked in.

  “We need to change our appearance. You know where to go?”

  “Well, yeah.”

  “We also need to work on our communication skills.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Yes, I know where to go.”

  He gestured with his arm. “Be my guest.”

  This place assaulted the senses: glass and glitter were everywhere. He followed Lauren onto an escalator located in the middle of the store. At the top landing, they made a U-turn, proceeded to the opposite side, and ascended another escalator.

  “What can I get?”

  “Anything you want.”

  “This isn’t a discount store.”

  “Don’t worry about that, just pick something different from what you’re wearing.”

  “Are you rich?”

  “Rich is a relative term.”

  “My stepdad was rich. He drove a Porsche. I think it cost like a hundred thousand dollars.”

  “What did he do?”

  “You mean like work? He made furniture.”

  “What kind of furniture?”

  “Mostly patio stuff.”

  “He must’ve made a boatload of furniture to be driving around in a Porsche.”

  “He owned two factories.”

  They entered the girls’ section, and Lauren began leafing through the clothes racks. Nathan wondered if shopping came naturally to kids her age. She looked like a pro.

  “Anything?” she asked again.

  “Yes, but we’re a little pressed for time. I’m gonna head down to the men’s department. Are you okay up here for a while?”