The door opens, and Val appears, stumbling through. A hand on her arm propels her forward. She sees me. "Case--"
She's yanked back before she can finish. The door slams shut.
"Lay down your weapon, Detective," a voice says. "Or I slit Valerie's throat."
21
When I hear that voice, my gut clenches.
"Put your weapon on the floor. Open the door. Kick the gun through. Then follow with your hands up. Otherwise, I'll kill her. You don't want to call my bluff."
I glance at the exterior door. Hoping for what? Divine intervention? Even if Diana finds Mathias, he's not going to get me out of this. There are exactly two solutions.
I do as I'm told.
Or Val dies.
And here is the terrible truth: I should stand my ground.
It is the coldly correct answer to this dilemma. The only way out of the clinic is the door behind me. When a suspect escaped through the back last winter, Dalton ordered that exit boarded up. I thought he was overreacting. Now I am glad of it. There's one way out. I'm blocking it. If I do not respond to the threat, it ends here.
I should let it end here.
I cannot let it end here.
I put Val in that room. I need to get her out of it and stalling won't help because there is no magical third solution.
"I want to trade," I say. "Val and I will switch spots. You can take me hostage."
"I don't want you, Detective. Val here will do as I say. Won't you, Val?"
"Casey?" Val's voice quavers. "Just do what he wants. Please."
I set my gun in front of the door. "My weapon is down."
"Good. When I open the door, you'll kick it through." A pause. "Step back first. I want to see you across the room. Then on my signal, you'll walk forward and kick it through. If I see you charging the door or doing anything other than giving me your weapon, Val dies."
I back up across the room, within the sight line from the door. It creaks opens just enough for me to boot the gun inside. The waiting figure makes no motion to bend and retrieve the gun. That would give me an opening for attack.
"Walk my way," he says.
I reach the door, pull back my good leg, and . . . kick the door with everything I've got.
It flies wide open, and Brady falls back.
"Knock him down!" I shout to Val as I go for my gun.
Val flies at Brady. She swings, and her fist connects with his jaw, and her eyes widen as if in surprise at actually making contact. But it's not enough. Not nearly enough.
Brady barely staggers, recovers fast and lunges at me, and I see a knife raised and twist out of the way just as it comes down. But that twist lands me out of reach of the gun. He scrambles for it. I kick. My foot strikes his jaw.
"Val!" I shout. "The gun."
She runs and snatches it up. Brady comes at me again. My fist plows into his jaw, in the same spot my foot had. He falls back snarling, but it's only a moment and then he's charging me with the knife.
I dodge his slash and dive over the hospital bed. There, on the floor, are the remnants of his wrist restraints. He cut them free with the knife. Where did he get--?
He circles around the bed, advancing as I retreat.
"Val?" I say. "Can you shoot?"
Her eyes round, as if I'm asking her to turn backward cartwheels. Shit. That means the gun is useless--Brady knows she won't fire it.
At least it isn't in his hand.
Brady keeps coming. I grab the rolling medical tray and fling it. The clatter startles him. I leap over the bed to get the gun from Val and--
She's backed across the room, and now she's by the door, weapon raised.
"If you can't shoot that," I say, "then run. Just take it and run. Get Eric."
"Val?" Brady says. "If you leave, I'll kill your detective."
"I can handle this," I say. "Just--"
He flies at me. I stand my ground, and he doesn't expect that and stops short. I slam my hand into his arm. The knife goes flying. He hits me, and I can't avoid that. The powerful blow slams into the side of my head. I stagger. Fall to one knee.
The knife. Damn it. Get the knife.
I see it. I lunge as he walks over, confident he's put me down. I slam my hand into the back of his knee. It buckles. I dive and hit the floor, shoving the knife along with me. I pick it up and--
I recognize the knife.
It's a pocket one. That's not unusual here. If you want one, you can buy it. The only reason I don't have mine is that I took it out on the jobsite to pry open a can.
"Here, Case, let me get that for you." A pocketknife appears.
"Got my own," I say. "But thanks."
I see the hand that grips the knife in my memory. I want to tell myself I'm wrong, but I have seen this knife too many times. I know who owns it.
Kenny.
I have Kenny's knife in my hand, as I'm backing into the wall. Brady keeps coming at me. I'm ready for him, ready to--
A muzzle flash from across the room. I swear I feel the bullet whiz past my head.
Val gasps in alarm. "Casey!"
"I'm fine."
"Oliver?" she says. "Stop or I'll--"
"Shoot?" he says. "Please do. With that aim, you're going to hit your own detective."
"Val?" I say. "The door is to your left. It's open. I want you to step left and back out. I've got this."
"If you leave, I'll kill Casey," Brady says.
"I'm the one holding the knife," I say.
"Doesn't matter. We both know how quickly that can change. I'm fighting for my life here. I will get that knife. I will stop you. I might kill you, but I don't want to. I just want to walk out of here."
"Do you really think I'd let a serial killer--"
"Serial killer?" He chokes on the words. "Is that what Greg told you? Figures. He didn't even keep his story consistent. Had to adapt it for the audience. A salesman to the core."
"You threatened to kill Val. You're threatening to kill me. And you're still proclaiming your innocence?"
"Because I am innocent. I'm fighting for my life. My actual life. I was shot at two days ago, nearly lynched yesterday, poisoned this morning--"
"Your accomplice gave you the poison."
That's the possibility that I failed to see. The niggling question in my head. I kept coming back to the possibility he'd faked it when I knew that couldn't be true. Yet faking it wasn't the only way he could be complicit.
"You're saying I knowingly put myself through that hell?" he says.
"It got you what you wanted, didn't it? And like you say, you're a desperate man."
"An innocent man, desperate to escape a death sentence. I will kill you if I have to. I don't want to. Just let me--"
He lunges, hoping I'm distracted. I feint to the side and slash. The knife slices his arm. He lets out a hiss and slams his fist into my gut. I double over, and he grabs my arm, trying to get the knife, but I grip it.
Val runs at us. She kicks at Brady, but he twists out of the way. He bodychecks her, and she goes flying. The gun fires.
I see the muzzle flare, and I dive, but Brady still has my arm. He yanks it and the knife falls. I manage to smack it away. That's all I can do--get the gun where we both can't reach it. But that move costs me a split second and in that second, Brady is on my back. He has my ponytail wrapped around his hand, wrenching my head. Then he stretches toward the knife.
"No!" It's a woman's voice, but not Val's. I manage to turn just enough to see Mathias and Diana behind Val.
Diana tries to get past, but Mathias pulls her back and shakes his head, and she turns on him with "We need--" but he silences her. Mathias is hoping Brady will go for that knife. It's just far enough out of reach that he'll need to shift his weight to stretch for it, and that will give me what I need to throw him off.
Brady reaches, but as soon as he sees how far it is, he stops.
"Give me the gun please, Valerie," Mathias says, his voice as calm as if he's asking her t
o pass the salt. "I can shoot him. You cannot."
Val steps toward him, gun outstretched. Before she reaches Mathias, Brady says, "If you take that gun from her, old man, I'll break this bitch's neck."
Val stops.
"That is misguided," Mathias says. "That bitch was the one keeping you alive. The one who was injured trying to save you from a lynch mob. The one attempting to determine whether or not you were guilty of your crimes. I suppose now she has her answer."
"I'm not guilty. I--" He stops, unfortunately, as if realizing he's about to go into a rant that could distract him. He settles for, "Damn you. Damn you all."
"Valerie?" Mathias says. "The gun please."
"Give it to me," Brady says.
Mathias chuckles. "Speaking of misguided . . ."
"I just want to get out of here," Brady says. "Either I take Casey as my prisoner, or I take the gun. Your choice."
"Take Casey," Mathias says. "Please. That will go so much better for you."
Brady scowls at Mathias. "Shut up, old man. I know it's a fucking strain for you, but shut the hell up." He looks at Val. "I don't want to take your detective. I know she fights to win. She will not come quietly, and I'll have to kill her. I do not want to do that. I just want to leave. Push the gun into the middle of the floor. To get to it, I'll have to let her go."
Val looks at me.
"No," I say.
Mathias echoes it. Diana says nothing, as she looks anxiously from me to Brady.
"Just give the gun a push," Brady says to Val. "If I get it, I'll walk away. If anyone else goes for it, we'll be right back here again, and I won't get out of this goddamned town without killing someone. Let me leave. Please just let me leave."
Val takes a deep breath. I can see her steeling herself. Then she exhales and pushes the gun into the middle of the room.
"Count of three," he says. "I'll let Casey go. No one moves."
He counts down. At two, he lunges for the gun. I can tell I have no chance of getting it, so I dive for the knife instead and come out in a roll. I leap to my feet, holding the knife. Brady is already across the room with the gun.
"Yeah," he says. "Don't even bother, Detective. Now, Val? I need you to come over here."
"No," I say. "She did what you asked, Oliver. You have the gun. We'll escort you to the edge of the forest. Then you're on your own."
Except he's not on his own. Never has been. Someone in this town betrayed us, and the knife in my hand tells me who that is, but I don't want to believe it.
Forget that for now. Focus on this.
Brady shakes his head. "I don't trust you."
"Then you are a fool," Mathias says. "Casey stopped that cretin from lynching you. Eric took a bullet for you. William pumped the poison from your stomach. These are not your enemies."
"Right now, they are. They won't let me walk away. They only want me to think I'm home free, so they can come after me the moment I turn my back. I need a guarantee. Val will come with me. If no one follows, I'll leave her at the spot where the sheriff got shot. If I hear anyone in pursuit, I'll have to shoot Val. Otherwise, she's yours. I just need a head start."
"And you expect us to believe that?" I say. "You told us that all you wanted was the gun. You lied."
"All I want is the gun. I'm borrowing her. You'll get her back. Now come over here with me, Val."
"Don't," I say. "We can't trust him."
"I'm going to count down now. Walk toward me, or I shoot."
I discreetly motion for Val to stay where she is. The moment he begins counting, I'll charge. I'm far enough to the side that it'll take him a moment to realize it. I will charge, and Mathias will get Diana and Val out and shut that door. That's all we need. I can handle Brady.
"Three."
I charge. Brady fires. I dive and the bullet hits the wall behind me. When I roll up, Val is walking toward Brady.
"Val, no," I say.
"I have to," she says. "I can do this. I'll be fine."
The gun swings in my direction.
"Val made her choice," Brady says. "The smart choice. If no one comes after me, I'll leave her at the spot where Greg's assassin shot your boyfriend. Give me one hour. She'll be fine."
Val reaches Brady. He has her turn around and raises the gun between her shoulder blades.
"Everyone step outside," Brady says. "Do not test me. If you do, you'll see exactly how desperate I am. Please. Just let me go."
Mathias and Diana retreat. I back out of the building, one slow step at a time.
22
As I back through that door, I'm torn between wanting to see someone out there . . . and praying no one is. Dalton, yes. Anders, yes. Even some of the militia could be trusted to keep a level head and help me end this. Sam, Nicole, Jen, Kenny . . .
Kenny.
I squelch the reminder.
There is no one outside. Not everyone will be helping with the fire. We aren't a town of saints or heroes. Given what we actually are--criminals and victims--it is a testament to Rockton that so many put aside fear and self-interest to help. Those who have not, though, certainly aren't going to come out now, as Brady steps onto the street with a gun at Val's back.
"If you're truly innocent--" I begin.
"Trust the system?" Brady gives a harsh laugh. "There is no system here. There's just my stepfather and a mountain of money. That old man there tells me to remember that you guys saved my life. That's a lie. You saved an asset. If I die, you lose your share of Mount Fortune."
"And what would we do with it?" I wave at the town. "We have nothing to spend it on."
"Sure you do," he says. "You can spend it on the only thing that matters. Freedom. You're trapped in this hellhole, same as me. For money, I presume. Like guys who work on oil rigs. No one does that for fun."
I keep arguing, but I keep moving backward, too, because I know my arguments are pointless. A rich kid like him looks around and sees the wilderness equivalent of a ghetto. No one would choose to live here.
In talking, I'm only hoping that my raised voice brings Dalton or Anders running. It does not. I hear shouts over at the lumber shed, and I know they're still fighting the fire.
The fire that Brady's accomplice set.
I want to seize that as proof it isn't Kenny. He'd been outside the clinic door when it started. But it's easy to delay a fire. Start it small enough, and it could take an hour or more to be spotted. He's our carpenter. He's in charge of the lumber shed. In charge of the firewood stocks.
"Val?" I say.
She looks at me. Her eyes are fixed wide, and I know she's praying for me to save her. I cannot. Unless something startles Brady, I can't get the jump on him, and even if he is startled, it's just as likely he'll squeeze the trigger accidentally. I must let him take her and hope he is telling the truth. That he will free her.
I tell her that. Reassure her. Do as he says. We'll be there within the hour. Don't leave that spot. I'm not sure she hears any of it.
Then I ask what I must ask, as cruel as it seems to speak of anything except her immediate situation.
"Did you tell Kenny he could leave earlier?"
"W-what?" she says.
I repeat the question.
"Tell Kenny he could leave?" she says. "Why?"
"He was guarding the door."
"No, I--"
Brady prods her in the back. "Enough talking. I know you're hoping someone will hear us, Detective, but you also know that's not a good idea. Just let me leave. An hour from now, you'll have Val back."
I ask Mathias and Diana to go home. Diana hesitates, but Mathias says, "Casey fears we will raise the alarm, however unintentionally. Valerie may not be our town's most popular resident, but if people hear she has been taken hostage, and we are not running to her rescue . . . ?"
"Someone will decide to play hero," Diana says. "And he'll shoot Val." She looks at me. "You did your best, Case. Brady will let Val go--he knows if he doesn't, you'll chase him to the end of this damned
forest. You can hunt for him as soon as she's safe. And it's not like he's going to get very far. Not alive, anyway. You made the right choice."
"All completely true," Mathias says. "But at this moment, Casey does not need reassurances. She needs to inform Eric. And we need to get into our homes and stay there until she requires us."
"Thank you," I say.
I take off at a jog, my expression neutral, so no one sees me running in a panic.
When I reach the shed, the fire is almost out. I can't see much damage from here. Just spirals of smoke that people with blankets are desperately trying to squelch. That smoke is a beacon for anyone who sees it, as dangerous as the fire itself.
Dalton is giving orders to wet more blankets and put them over smoldering wood.
"Save what we can," he says. "The shed's fine, but that's a shitload of wood at risk."
I look around for Anders. He's treating a burn. I walk up as he's saying it's not serious, just keep it dry.
"Will?"
He sees me. "Good. I was about to go look for you. Eric asked me to send someone ten minutes ago, and I kinda ignored him. We needed all hands. But I was getting worried."
"I'm fine. Just had to take care of something." I motion for him to follow me and walk out of earshot. "I need you to keep an eye on Kenny."
He starts to turn, but I say, "Don't look. He's supervising people carrying out wood. I need you to watch him while I talk to Eric. Do not let him out of your sight. If he even needs to go to the bathroom, make some excuse why he can't. I need about fifteen minutes."
"He isn't the one who poisoned Brady, is he?"
I pause. "I'll explain when I can. Just watch him, please."
"I will."
Dalton has spotted me, and he heads over with a quiet "Everything okay?" and a look that says he knows it's not.
"If you're done here, Storm's acting a bit off. I don't think she'd go into Brady's food, but I'm worried. Just come, and tell me I'm being paranoid."
Storm is in the station. We left her there what seemed like a lifetime ago. She whines as soon as she catches our footsteps.
We go inside, and I drop to a crouch to pet her and reassure her.
"She's fine, isn't she?" Dalton says.
I nod. Then I straighten. "The fire was a diversion."
"What?" He winces before the word is even out. "Someone tried to kill Brady. Shit. Tell me he's okay."
This Fallen Prey Page 11
