Chance (30 page)

The plan was to spring
their trap on Sunday, the day of the big shipment. Jim would ‘receive’ an
anonymous tip off from one of his criminal contacts, that there was something
going down at the docks. They'd monitor the action and then tip off the cops to
intervene. Logan and his criminal gang, would be caught red-handed. There'd be
reasonable cause for the Police to search his house, so they'd be issued a
warrant to do so.

Charlotte had to admit,
it was an impressive plan. It sounded watertight to her ears. The only aspect she
wasn’t sure about, was how they were actually going to catch him in the middle
of this job.

“Jim will be going to go
to the docks. He'll hide out somewhere and watch from a distance,” Brett
explained, pulling the car up to her parents’ driveway and turning off the
engine. “When he’s sure it’s going ahead, he'll call it in.”

“And then they’ll be
arrested?” Charlotte asked.

“That’s the plan,” Brett
said, sounding rather confident.

“They’ll probably have
guns,” Charlotte said, worry creeping into her voice.

“No doubt,” Brett agreed.
“But the police will have guns, too...and a helicopter. They won’t be able to
fire without getting themselves killed, and they’ll know that. It’s not likely
to end in a shootout.”

“Unlikely, but not
impossible?”

“Not impossible, no. Remember,
we’ll be at a safe distance. Even if there
is
a shootout.”

“I guess it depends on how
clever they are…and how desperate,” she said anxiously.

“Yes, it does,” Brett chuckled.
“From what I can tell, Logan's clever in terms of saving his own skin. He won’t
put himself at risk by firing. He’ll command his men not to fire, either. He’s too
cocky and confident. He'll probably think a few calls to his lawyer will get
him out of the mess.”

“Yeah, I think you’re
probably right, actually,” Charlotte agreed. “He is cocky and confident.
Arrogant bastard. I’m just…”

“Just what?”

He took her hand.

“I’m worried about Jim. I
don’t want him to get hurt.”

“Jim will be fine,” Brett
assured her, leaning in to give her a kiss on the cheek. “Come on, let me take
you inside.”

Charlotte smiled and
opened the car door, following him onto the porch, as her mother waved them
both inside for a warm stew she'd just prepared.

What Brett hadn’t told
her, and what she didn’t know until much later, was that
he
intended to
go to the docks, as well. He was confident Jim would be perfectly fine, because
Brett would be there as his back up.

Sunday arrived quickly.
Brett told her he had some errands to run, but promised he'd be back in the
early afternoon. Just after two, she was working on some drawings in her room
when she received a text from him saying he'd gotten caught up with something.
Charlotte immediately became suspicious. She went to the house phone and dialed
Brett’s cell phone number.

When it went through to
voicemail after six rings, she became anxious. He usually picked up after two rings
and was supposed to be near his phone at all times in case the hospital needed
him. She tried again. Still nothing. Then again. This time, after the third
ring, it connected.

“Hello? Brett?”

There was no answer, but
she could hear background noise.

“Brett?”

She could definitely hear
something.

“Hello?” she said again.
“Are you there? Brett?”

What was she hearing in
the background? She could hardly make it out over the sound of the television
coming from the living room. She took another few steps towards the stairs,
trying to find a quieter part of the house.

“Brett?” She tried one
more time. Still nothing.

She placed her hand over
her other ear to block out all of the competing noise from her own house,
focusing on whatever she could hear on the other end of the line.

It took her a moment or
two to recognize what she was hearing. There was a harsh rasping sound…water…birds…
Seagulls, cawing in the background? In one, dreadful instant, the pieces of the
puzzle came together in her mind, and she understood.

He was
there
! He’d
gone to the docks with Jim! That’s why he hadn’t answered his phone. She'd
assumed he accidently answered the last time, probably while it was in his
pocket as he crouched. That's why he hadn't responded when she spoke to him. He
probably had his phone on silent, so he wouldn’t risk it giving himself away.

This information seriously
upset her.

Why couldn’t he have just
stayed with me and left it to the professionals? Shit! Now I could lose him! I
can't lose him. He means so much to me.

Charlotte didn’t dare to call
him again. She didn’t want to risk putting him in any more danger than he was
in already. Instead, she fretted for the next three hours, tortured by one worst-case
scenario after another playing in her head. The time went by horribly slowly.
She was terrified, stressed and unable to concentrate on anything else. There
was so much on the line. It seemed the lives of everyone she loved were on the
line. All balanced on the outcome of today.

Finally, just after six,
Charlotte heard a car pull into her parent's driveway. She ran to the window,
and her heart skipped a beat when she saw Brett climbing out.

Brett filled her in on
what had happened as they drove back to Chicago. They had no chance to call for
backup. From what they'd witnessed, it was clear the deal had already gone down.
They'd seen Logan’s trunk loaded with three heavy duffel bags, of what they
assumed was cash.

Jim had sent Brett home.
He told him he'd follow Logan and call the police on the way. The problem was, it
had been hours and Jim still wasn’t answering Brett’s calls.

“That’s odd,” she
frowned. “I mean…why wouldn't he answer your calls? Do you think something
might've…? ”

“No, I’m sure he’s okay.
I figure he's probably just busy with the police, making statements and all.
There'll be a lot of questions.” Brett said, his tone making it clear he wasn’t
quite convinced.

When they finally turned
onto Logan’s street, Charlotte expected to see flashing lights and patrol cars,
but the street was as quiet as it usually was on a Sunday night. She
immediately felt sick to her stomach and noticed Brett’s hands gripping the
wheel a lot tighter.

“Fuck,” said Brett, under
his breath. It was the first time Charlotte had heard him use the word.

“What is it? What's
wrong?” she asked, truly scared by his curse as well as by the bad feeling she
had in her gut. She could already tell something had gone terribly wrong.

“That’s Jim’s car parked
over there.” He pointed further up the road. “That silver one,” he added.

About two houses down
from Logan’s house was a nondescript silver car parked at the curb.

“That’s Jim’s car?”

“Yep.”

“Where is he?” she asked
in a small voice.

“I have no idea,” Brett said,
parking down two houses past Jim's car.

“I don’t see Logan’s
car,” said Charlotte, straining over her shoulder. “Do you think he somehow
found out he was being followed? Maybe he took Jim…”

Brett didn’t get a chance
to answer. Headlights lit the street. They both ducked down immediately. They were
surprised when the car entered Logan’s driveway. It was his Porsche.

They sat in silence and
watched as Logan parked, got out the car and sauntered towards the front door.
He was apparently in a very good mood. A heavyset man got out of the passenger
side and followed Logan to the front door. Apparently a bit more cautious, the
other man stopped and looked around the front of the property and the street,
before he followed Logan into the house.

“What do we do now?”
Charlotte asked.

“We go in,” Brett said
decisively, undoing his seat belt and opening up the door.

She immediately opened
her own door and began to climb out.

“No Charlotte, you stay
here. It’s too dangerous.”

“Well then, call the
police,” she said.

“No, I need to find out
what’s happened to Jim. If he’s in there, I can’t risk calling the police,” he
said.

“Then I’m going with you.
I’m not letting you go in alone.”

“No, it’s too dangerous,”
Brett, said firmly.

“If you go in alone, I'm
calling the police. This is
my
mess and I’m not letting you die because
of
my
mistakes,” Charlotte said with frustration and anguish in her
voice.

He looked at her and saw
there was no way he'd be able to convince her otherwise, but he was extremely
upset by the idea. Keeping her safe would serve as a huge distraction, “Come
on.”

Brett stopped at Jim’s
car. Before she knew what he was doing, Charlotte saw him edge up to the
driver’s window and strike it with his elbow. The glass crunched and became a spider's
web of cracks.

“What are you doing,”
Charlotte whispered in shock.

Brett didn’t answer.
Instead, he made a jagged hole in the fractured glass with his sleeve-covered
hand and then reached in to unlock the door. Charlotte nervously glanced around
behind her as Brett climbed into the driver’s seat and leaned over. A few
seconds later, he emerged from the car and handed her a small pistol.

“He always keeps a spare
one under the dashboard,” he explained. “Have you ever used one before?”

“Um…no,” She looked at
him blankly, taking the gun from him, feeling its weight in her hand. He
quickly demonstrated how to turn off the safety. He told her to just point and
squeeze—if it came to that.

“I don’t think you’ll
have to use it. Just the threat should be enough if we can take them by
surprise.”

He reached into his own
pocket and pulled out a more lethal looking handgun.

“Are you ready?” he
asked.

She nodded. Together,
they padded towards Logan’s property. When they arrived at the gate, Brett
stopped and looked back at her. He gestured for her to hug the fence until they
got to the car. She followed him into the front yard.

They moved quickly and
quietly along the fence until they reached the closest area to the Porsche and
then Brett crouched. Sticking to the shadows, he moved to the car. Charlotte
followed behind him. She'd almost reached him when she slipped and fell heavily
into the side of the car.

Much to her horror, the car
alarm was triggered by the collision and set off a deafening noise at this
close proximity. Brett put his hand over her mouth, and they fell flat onto the
cold concrete. Suddenly, a bright light fell over the car and lit up the yard like
a Christmas tree.

“You may as well come
out.” A familiar, hateful voice called out from the front door.

Brett took her hand and
gave it a small squeeze, reassuring her. Her heartbeat was thudding in her ears
but she took a deep breath and stood when Brett pulled her up.

Logan was on the doorstep
leaning against the post holding a hot drink. He looked as though he didn’t
have a care in the world, just leaning there. When Charlotte popped up from
behind the car with Brett, his eyes widened, but he gave no other sign he was
surprised.

When the guns in their
hands were revealed, Logan had the gall to smirk.

“Are you okay?” Brett
asked quietly. The blaring alarm cut out just as he asked.

Oddly enough, she did
feel okay. Previously, she’d been terrified of this moment, dreading the
thought of it. Now though, she was just glad it would soon be over. Finally. She
and Brett would get through this together.

“Yes,” she nodded,
glancing at him and smiling. “I’m fine.”

“Let’s go and talk to
him, shall we?” Brett said to her quietly.

He led her over to stand only
a few feet from the porch facing their nemesis. Logan had remained on the top
step.

“Well, well,” he chuckled,
as they got closer. “Look who's come crawling back.”

“Don’t talk to her,”
Brett said sharply, his gun still by his side.

Logan’s eyes fell to the
weapons they were holding. “What do you think you’re going to do with those?”
he snorted, looking at Charlotte in particular. “Put it down, sweetheart. I
wouldn’t want to see you or your friend here, get hurt.”

“No one’s going to get
hurt,” Brett said. “Not, if you’re careful.”

Logan finally deigned to
look at Brett.

“Hey, I know you. How are
you, Doc? Have you been screwing my slut of a wife? Not very professional of
you, I must say.” There was a dangerous light in his eyes.

Brett didn’t rise to the
bait.

“We don’t want any
trouble. I’m here for my friend.”

“Is
this
my
replacement?” Logan glared at Charlotte, his anger and jealousy bubbling to the
surface. “You think you can just replace me that easily, Charlotte, mm? I told
you what would happen if you left me again. Didn’t I?”

“Fuck you, Logan. He's
ten times the man you could ever be.”

Her words seemed to have
an effect and Logan shrugged himself off the pole and drilled her with his enraged
glare.

“You’re mistaken. You’ve
got it…so…wrong. We’re married. Remember? 'Till death do us part' and all that
bullshit? Death will be the only thing that parts us, Charlotte.
Your
death, that is. Not mine.”

It was clear Brett had
enough. He raised his gun and pointed it at Logan’s chest. Charlotte flinched.
As much as she loathed Logan, she really didn’t want Brett to kill him. That
wasn’t why they were here. It wasn’t who they were. They were better than he
was.

“Now, listen to me, you
piece of shit,” Brett said calmly. His blue-eyed glare was focused intensely on
Logan. “The only person who’s going to be dying tonight is you if you don’t turn
around, take us inside and call off your man while you’re at it.”

Logan shook his head and said
one word. “No.”

Brett raised his gun into
the air and fired it once.

Silence descended on the
street in the immediate aftermath of the single loud blast. Logan looked
genuinely surprised, shocked even.

“In,” Brett growled at
him, waving towards the door. He moved onto the porch and Logan allowed himself
to be herded into the house, clearly not wanting any more shots to lead to the
police being called by a neighbor.  

Brett seemed so confident
and powerful, like a different man. He gave Logan a light push through the
doorway. Logan rounded on him but Brett raised the weapon again and the
criminal backed off, raising his arms slightly.

“Don’t touch me,” Brett
said calmly.

“I’ll do more than touch
you, you fucking prick,” Logan threatened.

“Do your worst, scumbag,”
Brett said in a strangely calm and confident manner.

Brett turned back to the
door where Charlotte was watching, waiting, having not yet made the decision whether
or not to go inside.

“Come in, darling,” Brett
said to her.

The pet name seemed to
incense Logan. His face was as dark as storm clouds.

“He’s not going to lay a
finger on you. Are you, Logan?” Brett asked.

Logan, knowing he was at
least momentarily beaten, shrugged his shoulders, “Not yet,” he answered, “But
I’ll get my chance, don’t doubt that.”

They suddenly heard a
muffled cry of warning from the direction of the living room and then a shadow
holding a gun appeared in the doorway. He was aiming straight at Brett. It was
Logan’s crony.