My Everything (22 page)

“You promise to stay in the car? To do exactly as I say no matter what?”

Angel nodded.

Grace decided to follow at a safe distance. It might have nothing to do with Roger Smithson, but she needed to know. She had the feeling it had everything to do with Roger, and with Ben.

Roger felt more
than heard the slam of metal on metal. He’d hit the rear half of a police cruiser so hard the collision ripped the hood off his car and knocked the other vehicle across two lanes of traffic. He was stunned for a moment. Then cops were running toward him from all directions.

Roger grabbed the pistol off the seat and began to shoot at anything that moved as he slid across to the passenger side and kicked the car door open. Pedestrians scattered, but he noticed a minivan stopped off to the side mere feet away from where he’d ended up. A woman cowered within.

Roger shoved the barrel of the pistol against the driver’s side window. “Open the door!”

The terrified driver did as he ordered. Roger dragged a woman out, the screams of her children ringing in his ears. He didn’t have a choice. It was their fault. Ben McCall and his whore and his rotten little sister forced him to do this.

He wrapped an arm tightly around the woman’s chest, using her as a shield. He pressed the gun to her temple, dragging her backward until he felt a wall behind him. He couldn’t go any farther.

“I want to talk to Ben McCall,” he yelled over the noise in the street. “I know he’s here. Bring me Ben McCall and I’ll let her go.”

Roger was panting. Sweat beaded on his forehead and his shirt was drenched. He stunk of fear. Or the woman did. She whimpered.

“Shut up,” he ordered. “Shut the fuck up. I can’t hear myself think.”

As he watched with his good eye, he saw her children climb out of the car.

“Don’t hurt my kids,” the woman pleaded. “Please, oh God please, don’t hurt my kids.”

Roger didn’t dare move his gun away from her temple, but the kids were walking toward him instead of toward the police.

“Tell them to go the other way,” he shouted at her. “Tell them to get away from me! Tell them now!”

“Sam, take your brothers and go over to the police. Go, Sam, take them the other way.”

Roger watched a child, eight or nine years old, take the hands of two younger children and stumble with them toward a police car.

He gripped the woman even tighter and braced himself for a charge, feeling almost superhuman, like he was stronger than he ever dreamed. It would take ten of them to pull him off her, and he’d still kill her first.

“Ben McCall,” he called out again. “Or I’ll blow her brains out.”

A man stood up and stepped out from behind a police car. He walked forward without hesitation. Roger took him in at a glance. He’d never met Ben McCall, but he’d know him anywhere.

The man wore jeans and a black long-sleeved shirt beneath a Kevlar vest. His dark brown hair was long, curling along the sides of his neck. The man stopped and stared. His eyes issued a silent challenge.

“Let her go and we’ll talk.”

“What is there to talk about?” Roger jerked back on the woman he held. “What could we possibly have to talk about? My sister, maybe? Is that what you want to talk about? Why you murdered my sister?”

“We can talk about Julie after you let the woman go.”

“Don’t say her name. Don’t you goddamn dare say her name, you fucking murderer. Why’d you marry her in the first place?”

“I married her because I loved her.”

“Right.” Roger laughed. “You loved her so much you got rid of her.”

Roger pressed against the bricks behind him. He could see bodies in motion on all sides. He knew he had to keep the woman close or someone would pick him off in a heartbeat.

“Roger, we can still trade, the woman for me. That was always your plan, wasn’t it, to trade for me? Let her go, and you can have me. We can talk about your sister and your future.”

“What future?” Roger laughed again. “I don’t have a future, and if I have anything to say about it, neither do you.”

The two men were at an impasse. Roger tried to make his brain work. As long as he held onto the woman, the police wouldn’t shoot him. Regardless of what McCall said, the minute he let her go he knew he was a dead man. That would be okay if he could take McCall with him. But he couldn’t get a clear shot, not with the woman wiggling and McCall wearing that vest. He remembered reading somewhere that head shots were iffy. Better to go for the torso. He wasn’t a great shot anyway, and he could only see out of one eye. It had to be the torso.

Roger decided. “Remove the vest and maybe we’ll talk. Maybe I’ll let her go. If you don’t, I’ll kill her. You know I will. I’m a dead man anyway.” He repeated, “I’m a dead man anyway. It doesn’t matter to me.”

“You’re not a dead man, Roger. I can help you. I can get you the help you need. Nobody has to die today.”

“Words are cheap, McCall. Words are what you gave my sister. Keep talking and she dies.”

Ben had hoped
Roger could be stopped without bloodshed. It didn’t look like that was in the cards.

For Julie’s sake, Ben wanted to spare her brother, but he didn’t particularly feel like sacrificing himself. He just didn’t see where he had much choice.

Ben turned sideways, making himself a smaller target and stepped toward Roger, arms extended, hands spread, making it clear he didn’t carry a weapon.

“I said, lose the vest.”

Ben knew Roger wanted a body shot. He was surprised he hadn’t already taken a shot at his legs. He was obviously afraid to turn the gun away from the hostage. Or he couldn’t see well enough to aim the gun accurately. Ben could use that.

“Julie wouldn’t want this, Roger. She was a gentle person. She wouldn’t want anyone hurt.” Ben inched closer. “She wouldn’t want you hurt.”

“I told you,” Roger shouted. “Shut up!”

“I loved her,” Ben repeated, inching even closer. “She was my wife. She carried our child. I would never have harmed her. She knew that.”

The woman’s sobs were the only sound in the street. Ben took another small step.

“You were her brother. She loved you too. You know she loved you.”

“I am her brother, you asshole. She loved me more than she ever loved you. We knew everything about each other. That’s how I knew. That’s how I knew you murdered her. Oh, not you personally. No, you didn’t get your own hands dirty. You hired someone to do it and make it look like a terrorist bomb. What do you think I am? You think I’m stupid?” Roger pressed the gun harder, this time against the woman’s cheek. Her cries grew louder.

“No, I don’t think you’re stupid, Roger. I think you’ve planned things out very well. And if you’re as smart as I think you are, you’ll drop the gun.”

“Not on your life.”

Ben took one more step, six more to go.

“Lose the vest,” Roger yelled from behind his hostage. “Lose the vest, now!”

Ben slid another foot forward.

“I need to raise my hands to get it off,” he said. “I’m going to raise my hands.”

“Just do it!”

Eyes glued to Roger’s face, Ben reached for the Velcro straps on his vest. He pulled them loose, removing the vest as slowly as he could, still inching forward, studying Roger and his hold on the woman. He’d have to move quickly to get her out of harm’s way and tackle Roger before he could get off a shot. Ben slid the vest across his shoulders. He held it out in front of him in Roger’s direction, keeping the vest between himself and the gun.

Roger held tight to the woman, his good eye twitching. He looked like he was trying to decide what to do next and how much time he had left. The hand holding the gun shook.

Out of the blue, Ben heard a commotion behind him.

A female voice shouted, “No!”

Ben didn’t dare turn. He kept his eyes glued on Roger’s face. Roger’s head twisted toward the sound, and the gun in his hand swung around to point at something beyond Ben’s field of vision. Ben dove for Roger and the hostage. Just before he could reach him, Roger fired.

My Everything◊J. R. Barrett

Grace made it
half a mile before police barricades and two officers blocked the street. She stopped. Up ahead she saw a group of officers sheltering behind their cruisers. Grace glanced in her mirror, determined to back up and leave the scene when Angel jumped from the still-moving car and began to run toward the commotion.

She evaded one police officer and ignored his shouts to halt, yelling at him as she passed. “My brother’s in there. Ben McCall is my brother! I have to get to him!”

Grace slammed the car into park, threw open the car door and sprinted after her, determined to catch her if it was the last thing she did. Angel had a head start, but Grace was fast and she knew she’d reach her.

As she tore down the sidewalk closing the distance, two officers in pursuit, she prayed she caught Angel before the girl found herself smack dab in the middle of whatever the hell was going on at the end of the block.

Grace ignored the shouts of the officers and focused on Angel’s back the way she did in a race. Never take your eyes off the back of the runner in front of you. Catch them. Win the race. Everything else faded, the cars, the noise, eyes staring from doorways and windows, the hard concrete beneath her feet. She heard nothing, she saw nothing but Angel.

As Grace closed on the girl she caught a glimpse of Ben, holding his Kevlar vest in his hand, standing directly in front of Roger. Roger had his back pressed against a brick wall and he used a woman as a shield.

Grace kicked it up a notch exactly the way she did when approaching a finish line. She had to stop Angel right now before she got herself killed.

She dove for Angel, wrapping her body around her and falling to the pavement, keeping herself between Angel and Roger and his gun. Just before they hit the ground, something slammed into Grace, knocking the wind out of her. She made an involuntary sound as the air was suddenly expelled from her lungs. Almost simultaneously, she heard the report of a gun.

As he lunged
at Roger Ben shoved the woman to the side; his shoulder hit Roger in the solar plexus. He stunned Roger, but still the man fought back tooth and nail.