Evidence of Mercy (37 page)

So they were gone. He tested the door that led into the bedroom. Locked. Going back to the kitchen door, he tested it, too.

The house was empty. When Paige came home, it would be just the two of them—and Brianna. He found a comfortable seat behind the house and waited for Paige.

J
ake heard the screeching tires as Paige pulled into the driveway; as quickly as he could, he pushed himself out of the recliner and into his wheelchair. He rolled to the door—but even before he could turn the knob, he heard Brianna scream.

Through the door's window, he saw that a man had grabbed Brianna out of Paige's car and that Paige was fighting and clawing and kicking him with all her might.

His heart jumped, and he twisted the knob, ready to burst through the door and defend her—until he was hit with the crushing realization that there was nothing he could do. He couldn't walk or fight or defend anyone.

For a moment, he sat stunned, watching Paige fight for her life, watching as the man—he assumed it was Keith Varner—held Brianna roughly around her waist with one arm, and with the other pulling Paige by the hair to the door, making her unlock it. “You have ten minutes to pack everything she has here,” he said through his teeth. “And then I'll decide what to do with you.”

Jake roused himself, knowing that regardless of his limitations, Paige and Brianna needed his help. Flying back to the small kitchenette, he pulled the biggest knife he could find from the drawer, set it in his lap, and headed back to the door.

He heard the house door slam. He hoped that, with all the screaming inside, Keith wouldn't hear him if he went out and tried to reach his car phone. Jake guessed that they were in the bedroom at the back of the house, getting Brianna's things.

As quietly as he could, he opened the door and rolled out onto the driveway.

Paige's screams still sounded from inside the house, and something crashed. Jake's hands trembled as he opened his car door as quietly as he could then slipped inside. Pulling the door shut, he checked to make sure that Keith had not heard him. Apparently he hadn't.

He dialed 911 and keeping his voice barely above a whisper, told the dispatcher that Paige and Brianna were being held hostage inside the house and that Keith was dangerous. When he told them it was the home of Lynda Barrett, the dispatcher hesitated.

“Barrett? The same woman whose car blew up today?”

Jake clutched the phone. “What?”

“Is it the Lynda Barrett who works in the Schilling building?”

For a moment he couldn't find his voice. “Yes,” he said. “What happened to her car?”

“Uh—there was an accident. An explosion.”

Trying to steady his breath, he said, “Was she—was she killed?”

“There was one death in the accident,” the woman confirmed hurriedly. “Do you think the person in the house could be a suspect in the explosion?”

Jake felt as if he were falling, falling, and there was nothing he could grab to stop his fall.

“Sir? Can you hear me?”

“Yes,” he breathed. “Yes, it's him. Hurry, or he'll kill them.”

He punched the end button on the phone then sat still, trying to grasp everything she had said. Explosion. Lynda's car. One death.

For a moment, he considered putting his key in the ignition, turning on the car, and ramming it headfirst into the house. Maybe he could get rid of Keith and himself in one quick action.

It was too much.

Not Lynda. She couldn't be dead.

He covered his face with his hand, too shocked to weep or scream. It had to be a mistake. She wouldn't die on him just like that. She would fight and survive. Somehow she'd make it.

So caught up was he in the turmoil of his raging thoughts that he didn't hear a car pull into the driveway behind him. But he jumped when he heard the car door slam and wrenched his neck to see. Lynda was walking toward the house, and a car was backing out of the driveway.

He flung the door open and almost fell out. “Lynda! You're alive!”

She looked pale, and there were red circles under her eyes. “Yeah,” she said, and tears came to her eyes again as she reached for him. “Sally's dead.”

He wanted to fling himself at her, hug her, but there wasn't time. “He's in there, Lynda. He has Paige and Brianna.”

“What? Who?”

“Keith! He caught her getting out of her car and dragged them in. I've called the police.”

Lynda stood shocked for a moment, then turned frantically toward the street, lifting a hand—but the car was already gone. Jake pulled himself into his chair then rolled around a corner of the house where Keith couldn't see him if he looked out. Lynda followed him.

“That was Larry who dropped me off! I should have made him stay, but he had a lead on where Keith was—” She looked around for a weapon then saw the knife Jake clutched in his hand. “But surely the dispatcher will let him know—”

“We can't wait,” Jake said. “We have to do something! I think they're in the bedroom getting Brianna's things. If we can figure out where they are, when the police get here they can go in another door and surprise him.”

Lynda nodded. “I'll go look.”

A shadow of frustration crossed Jake's face. He wanted to go. But he couldn't.

“Be careful,” he said.

L
ynda crept along the side of the house. Peering around the corner nearest the bedroom, she saw them.

Keith stood in front of the screen door that opened to the patio. He held Brianna with one arm while he pointed a gun at Paige. She was on her knees, throwing clothes into a suitcase. Lynda could hear Brianna screaming. And through it, their voices.

“Please,” Paige begged. “Just put her down, Keith. Let her go!”

“Shut up,” Keith snarled. He grabbed Paige and pulled her up. “Now, where's the rest of her stuff?”

“The living room,” Paige choked out. “Her dolls are in the living room.”

As soon as they were out of sight, Lynda dashed back around the house to where Jake waited.

“They're headed for the living room,” she whispered.

Something else crashed inside the house, and Lynda jumped. Brianna's blood-curdling scream cut through the air.

“
He'll kill them,” she whispered loudly. “He's insane. What are we going to do?”

“
First, we're gonna calm down,” he whispered. “And we're gonna think.”

“I can get in through the back way,” she whispered. “The door to the master bedroom.”

“And do what? You don't have a gun. And even if you did, you couldn't use it.”

“Then what do you suggest?”

“Let me go in that way,” he said. “You wait here then create a diversion at the front of the house when the police get here.”

She looked at his functionless legs, at his wheelchair. “No, I can't let you do it.”

There was another crash, and Brianna's screaming stopped short. From the house came nothing but dead silence.

“That's it! I won't let him take another of my friends!” Throwing down her purse, she sprang toward the kitchen door.

“Lynda, stop!” he said in a loud hiss.

But she burst through the door before he could reach her. “Stop it!” she screamed. “Let them go and take me instead! I'm the one you really want!” The door slammed shut behind her.

For a moment, Jake sat frozen. He thought of going in after her, giving the fight everything he had. But that wouldn't help anyone. In the distance, he could hear sirens, but they were still too far away. Lynda's purse lay on its side on the ground; he reached for it and dug for her house key. Gripping the knife, he rolled around the back of the house, through the dirt so he wouldn't make noise. As the sirens got louder, he unlocked the master bedroom door and rolled inside.

He heard Keith cursing at Lynda, and Paige starting to scream again; things crashed and fell. Outside, the sirens seemed to have disappeared; had they gone the wrong way?

What if it was all up to him?

Grasping for help, Jake closed his eyes.
If you're up there, God, I could use a hand. Just make my body function well enough to help them.

I
n the living room, Lynda tried to breathe, but Keith's arm was brutally tight against her throat. Paige's face was bleeding where he'd hit her, and Brianna sat hunched under a table with her arms covering her head.

“At least let Brianna go,” Paige was crying. “Please, Keith. She's your
daughter!
If you really loved her you wouldn't make her watch this!”

“You don't know the first thing about love,” he bit out. “She needs to know what kind of a tramp her mother is. She needs to see how weak you are. And she needs to see you dead, so she won't keep expecting you to rescue her when I take her. That way we can start a new life together, and she can depend on me, and I can clear her mind of all the brainwashing you've done.”

Lynda struggled to loosen his hold on her. “You won't get away with this,” she said. “You think they'll let you keep that child after you've killed two more people? They'll never let you out of here with her.”

“Who won't?”

“The police!” she shouted, but Keith just grinned down at her insanely.

“The police are idiots. They already had me twice, and they let me go.”

“Don't you hear the sirens?”

For the first time, he listened. The sirens were loud now and sounded as if they were right outside the house. Venomous rage reddened his face. “Then I have nothing more to lose, do I?”

Throwing Lynda down, he grabbed Paige's hair and put his gun to her head.

The doorbell rang, and a loud banging followed. “Police department! Open up!”

The gun fired, and Paige collapsed. Lynda screamed and dove for Brianna, who clung desperately to her, shivering. Keith kicked Paige, and when she recoiled, it was clear that she hadn't been shot. Thankful, Lynda tried to catch her breath and whispered to Brianna, “She's all right, sweetheart. Mommy's all right.”

“The next shot goes through the door!” Keith shouted. “And then I'll kill both women!”

“We just want to talk to you, Varner!”

Lynda recognized the voice outside the door—Larry. She prayed that he hadn't come too late.

“Where's the phone?” Keith asked, sweat beading on his face as he looked from one side of the room to the other. “I can talk to 'em—negotiate.”

“We don't have one!” Lynda threw back. “We used the cellular phone in my car, but you blew it up!”

“Shut up!” Keith bellowed and kicked over the table they sat under.

I
t didn't take another gunshot to tell Jake that there was no more time. If he were going to act, he had to do it now. Opening the bedroom door as quietly as he could, he wheeled into the hallway, holding the knife in his fist.

Keith picked up Paige again by the hair and arm, and as she struggled to free herself, Keith's hold tightened and Paige let out a muffled scream.

“In the name of God, let her
go
!” Lynda cried. “Think of Brianna. Look what you're doing to her!”

Jake silently wheeled to the corner where the hall joined the living room. Staying as far back as he could, he saw Brianna crouched beside Lynda. Keith stood nearby, still holding Paige with both arms. He let her go, and she fell to the floor. Bending down, he reached out to touch Brianna.

Curling into a tighter ball, she strained away from him.

“Brianna, it's just Daddy,” he said in a quiet voice. “I'm not gonna hurt you again. Don't you believe me?”

Jake's gaze narrowed to the revolver hanging in Keith's hand, muzzle toward the ground, as he reached for Brianna with the other.

Slowly, Jake came out of the shadows and began to move across the carpet.

Tears started down Keith's face as he touched Brianna's hair. She hunched her shoulders higher, and her mouth grew even wider in terror, but her heaving sobs were silent.

First Lynda then Paige caught sight of Jake moving across the carpet in his wheelchair, and they froze, not certain what to do.

“It's not too late, Keith,” Lynda said, keeping her timbre steady and low, trying to draw Keith's attention. “You can change your life. You can be the father she needs. Just let her go for now.”

Keith dropped his head and began to weep; the gun slipped slightly in his loosening grasp.

Jake pushed his wheels gently one more time, easing closer to Keith's side, holding his breath to avoid any sound that would give him away—

And swung his arm with all the strength and speed he could muster. He hit the gun, sending it bouncing several feet away across the carpet, then swung back to grab Keith's wrist and twist it behind his back, forcing him to his knees. “Didn't know I was here, did you, pal?” Jake asked through gritted teeth. “Recognize me? I'm the guy you maimed in the plane crash.”

Keith couldn't move; the strength Jake had built in his arms over the past few weeks was overpowering. “Let me go!” he screamed, but Jake forced him forward until his face rested on the floor. Paige scrambled after the gun and stood up, aiming it at her ex-husband.

“Take her out, Lynda!” Paige shouted. “I don't want her to see me kill her father.”

Lynda grabbed Brianna and rushed for the kitchen door. Paige waited until they were out of the room before she pulled the hammer back. “I could pull this trigger right now!” she said through her teeth, “and they'd call it self-defense. I'd be a hero for ridding the world of you. And my daughter could finally learn what it's like to live without terror.”

Keith struggled against Jake's grip and tried to look up at her. “You won't do it. Brianna would always blame you—”

“Shut up!” she cried.

There was the sound of splintering wood, and the front door burst open. Larry lunged into the room then stopped when he saw Paige holding the gun on Keith.