Forever Man (31 page)

“’Ite,” Kevin tried repeating, his eyes fixed briefly on hers.

She reached out and gently tousled his hair. “Do you have any wishes, little man?”

He did have a wish. His face screwed up in concentration. “P-p-pop t-tart.”

“You want a Pop Tart?” She got up from the couch. “Let me see if I can find one.”

She had made it around the couch and half-way to the kitchen when the front door opened.

A man walked through. He was tall, skinny. He was smiling too, but Kevin didn’t like his smile. It wasn’t like the pretty girl’s.

“That’s what I love about you Midwestern folk,” said the man. His voice was dark, shadowy, and it buzzed like a nest of angry bees. “You never lock your damn doors.”

After a look of surprise, the pretty girl bolted for the kitchen. The man shot his arm out and grabbed her by the hair, yanking her back. When he’d hauled her flailing body next to him, he whipped a snow-covered arm firmly across her throat.

“Look what I got here,” the man said. His voice stung the air with a hundred bee stings. He tightened his grip on her neck, and the pretty girl stopped struggling. “I don’t know who you are, but you need to understand something right now. Do as I say, behave yourself, and things will be just great between us. Maybe we could even be friends. But cause trouble and, well….” Kevin watched as the man let go of her hair and pulled a black, metal thing from his waistband. Gripping the short end, he pushed the long end hard against side of the pretty girl’s head. “Get my drift, missy?”

She nodded, her body trembling, tears running down her cheeks.

“Who else is here?”

“N-n-no one. Oh God, please don’t hurt us.”

The man dug the metal thing harder into her head. “I don’t hurt anyone unless I have to. And I don’t want to
have to
hurt you.” He pushed his mouth close to the girl’s ear. “So stop begging. It annoys the hell out of me.”

The pretty girl cried harder. “Oh God, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

The man eased the gun away from her head. “When I take my arm off your throat, I want you to go over to the couch and sit down next to Kevin. Don’t do anything to piss me off, or I’ll shoot you without a second thought. Are we on the same page here?”

She nodded through her tears.

The man let her go, and she moved to sit next to Kevin. She was shaking so badly he could feel her through the cushions.

Then the man focused his attention on him.

“Hello, my boy. Good to finally meet you.” Over his shoulder, the man called out, “You can come in now.”

When his dad slowly walked through the door, Kevin couldn’t help but smile.

*   *   *

When Jack walked through the door and saw his son, he couldn’t help but smile. It had only been a day since he’d last seen Kevin—yesterday morning, in fact, before he’d gone to Jimmy Cain’s funeral—but with everything that had happened, it felt like weeks.

Kevin’s smile filled him with a certain happiness he rarely felt. He knew his boy was damaged: his von Kliner’s syndrome was evident in every stray glace, every erratic movement. Because of that, his son would never ascend to the successes Jack had achieved. And yet, he knew that Kevin was special. He’d desperately wanted to believe that, ever since Kevin had been diagnosed. Webber’s arrival had been like a dream come true. It had shown that Kevin was indeed special.

Jack looked past his son at the girl sitting beside him.

“I know you,” he said. “Bridgette something?”

“Brittany,” the girl answered quickly. “Brittany Parsons.”

Jack nodded. “Right. I like Bridgette better. You can stay right there. Kevin, come here.”

The Parsons girl wrapped her arms protectively around Kevin, pulling him close. Before Jack could tell her to let him go, Webber stepped between them. “No, Jack. I’d rather he stay there. What if Owens and his friends show up? What do you think will happen then? That Morris will read you your rights and ask you to come along quietly? Hell, no. They’re going to come in with guns drawn. I don’t want to risk your boy getting hurt. Better safe than sorry, right?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” snapped Jack. “No one knows we’re here. And even if someone does find out, we’ll be long gone before anyone could get here. Now I want to see—”

“That’s a bad habit you have there,” Webber said, cutting him off. “Underestimating people. I mean, look what happened when I sent”—he shot a quick look at Bridgette—“my friend to visit Morris. Not only did she survive, they managed to hurt it. Trust me, that’s no small thing. And with Owens in the mix, it’s best to assume they’re right behind you.”

“What is it with you and that guy? I’ve never seen him carrying a gun. He can’t be all that dangerous. Yet you make it sound like he’s some kind of martial arts master.”

“He’s lethal one-on-one. And very resilient. But the thing he’s got going for himself is experience. The man’s been around for a long, long time. He knows his shit, Jack.”

“Then
you
deal with him. Right now, I want to give my son a hug. I don’t care what you say, he’s not in any danger.” His voice grew hard as he turned toward the couch. “Let him go, Bridgette.”

The girl squeezed Kevin tighter. “I’m not going to let you hurt him.”

“He’s my son. My own flesh and blood. I would never hurt him. Now, take your damn hands off him.”

Webber put a restraining hand on Jack’s arm. “I already told you. I want him to stay—”

Jack rounded on Webber, pulling his arm free. “And I told you—!”

There was a phone sitting on an end table next to the sofa. It started ringing.

The Parsons girl released Kevin and grabbed for it.

Webber charged forward, gun raised. “Don’t you
dare
answer that!”

Jack motioned to Kevin, and the boy got up and hurried over to him.

Picking up the phone, the girl hit the answer button and started yelling.

*   *   *

Izzy Morris rushed out of the police station. The others followed close behind. When she’d called the hospital, Sten had told her all she needed to know.

Kevin was at Katie’s house. Webber and Jack were on their way there, and they had one hell of a lead. It was unlikely she’d get there before they grabbed the boy.

She tossed her keys to Gene. “You drive. I need to call Katie’s house. Maybe I can warn Brittany before Webber gets there.”

Gene caught them smoothly in one hand, but then slipped on a patch of snow. He fought to control his balance. He would have fallen had Owens not stepped up and grabbed him under both arms.

“Thanks,” Gene told the old man.  

“You’re limping as it is. Hurt your back any more and you won’t be able to help. I don’t think you’d want that.”

“Couldn’t you just teach me how to, you know…?” Gene twirled a finger at Owens’s healed abdomen.

Owens raised an eyebrow and cocked his head. The expression was unmistakable.

“Okay, okay,” Gene muttered. “I was just asking.”

Everyone climbed into the department’s SUV, which would handle better in the snow than Izzy’s vehicle. Izzy turned to Katie in the back seat and asked for her phone number. As Gene pulled out of the parking lot, she called the house. With the phone pressed so tightly to her ear she thought it would leave a permanent mark, she waited impatiently for the connection to go through. Someone picked up before the first ring was complete. A young woman—it had to be Brittany—began yelling into the phone.

“Oh God, help! There are two men here! One’s got a gun! He’s—!”

Izzy heard a muffled thud. The voice cut off.

“Brittany!” Izzy shouted. She gripped the cell until her knuckles turned white. “Brittany!”

No answer.

“Brittany! Answer me!”

Someone spoke, but it wasn’t Brittany. When Izzy heard that languid yet menacing voice, her heart almost stopped.

“Chief Morris. How unfortunate. I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon.”

“What did you do to her, Webber? If you’ve hurt—”

“Save your breath, Chief. I haven’t harmed the young lady. Well, that’s not
completely
true. She may have a headache when she wakes up. Now, whether or not she wakes up at all, that’s up to you.”

“You don’t need to involve her,” Izzy said urgently. “She’s got nothing to do with this. You want to deal with someone, deal with me.”

“I’ve already tried to deal with you. Remember? Sadly, that didn’t work out as well as I’d hoped. I assume the old man had a hand in that?”

“I managed to get a shot off. All that did was make the thing madder—whatever it was.” Izzy made hurry-up motions to Gene. If she could keep Webber on the phone, they might have a chance. “But yes, Owens ended up saving us.”

“Changed your worldview a bit, did it?”

Izzy turned to look at Owens. “That’s putting it mildly.”

Gene took a hard left. The Explorer fishtailed as its back tires broke free of the slick, snow-covered pavement. Gene turned into the slide and hit the accelerator. The transmission whined, a high-pitched tone that sliced through the cottony silence of the car’s interior. Wet wheels fought for purchase, throwing up clumps of snow. The SUV’s back end continued to swerve, gliding along the road’s surface, until the treads bit, clawed, and the car shot forward. Izzy didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath until she let out a jittery sigh.

“Sounds like you’re having some trouble there,” Webber laughed. “Anyway, back to the young lady. You called for a reason. I’m assuming Katie Bethel is still with you, so you didn’t call to speak to her. And as much as it pains me to say this, I doubt you wanted to talk to
me
. That leaves the girl. Which means you were trying to warn her. Maybe you’re even on your way here.” Webber paused. “You play poker, Chief?”

“What?” Izzy said, puzzled at the sudden change in topic.

“Personally, I like a woman who knows how to gamble. How to play the odds.” She heard the distinctive sound of a gun being racked, a round being chambered. “I’ve got a gun pointed at fair Brittany. If you don’t turn around and go somewhere else, I’m going to have to blow her head off to express my disapproval. So, there’s my opening bid. Now it’s your turn. Ante up or fold.”

“Webber, don’t. You don’t have to do this. She—”

“Ante up or fold. You’ve got ten seconds.”

“You’re just making things worse for yourself. If you—”

“Nine.”

“Damn it, we can work something out. Killing her won’t—”

“Eight.”

Izzy’s mind churned. She needed to get to Katie’s house. Webber knew where her daughter was. And Kevin was there. But she couldn’t risk Brittany’s life in the process. And Webber’s already shown he would kill to get what he wanted.

“Do you promise not to hurt her?”

“I make no promises. This is where you decide whether I’m bluffing or not. Now, have you turned around?”

Izzy hit on an idea. She gripped Gene’s arm to get his attention. Shaking her head and motioning for him to continue on, she said, “Gene, turn the car around. Head back to the station.” She waited a few moments, while Gene continued on to Katie’s house. “There. You win this hand. But the game isn’t over. As long as you have Natalie and Kevin, I won’t stop looking for you. Eventually I’ll find you. Then you’ll answer for what you’ve done.”

“Nice try, Chief. But you just made a novice mistake. You overplayed your hand. You should have lied and let it stand, but you trumped up your bluff. You tried to justify it. I call your bluff. You now have seven seconds.”

“No! Wait! We turned around!”

“Six.”

“Gene, pull over! Stop the car!” Gene eased the car to the side of the road.

“Five.”

“Webber, don’t! We’ve stopped. I’m not lying.”

“Four three two one.”

“What! No! No! Don’t do it!”

“Looks like you had the weaker hand. I win, bitch.”

When Izzy heard the sound of a gunshot rip through the phone, she turned to Gene.

“Hurry. Get to the house. I want that bastard.”

Jack Sallinen flinched when Webber fired the gun. In the confined space of the Bethel’s living room, the shot sound like a cannon going off next to him. The smell of burnt gunpowder filled his nostrils and made his eyes water.

Standing in front of his father, Kevin clapped his hands over his ears, buried his head into Jack’s abdomen, and began to cry.

Jack placed his arms around Kevin’s trembling shoulders and hugged him close. He was grateful that his son’s view was blocked by the couch—he didn’t need to witness the girl’s splattered head leaking blood and brains into the carpet.

He glared at Webber. “Can you give a guy a little warning next time?”

The other man grinned. “You snooze, you lose, Jack. Better stay sharp if you want to hang with the big boys.”

“And the girl? You can be damn sure Morris will be after us now.”

“She knows we have her daughter. She’s not going to stop, no matter what I do. And again, you’re making assumptions about what’s going on.”

Webber bent down. Grabbing one of Bridgette’s arms, he dragged her out from behind the couch. Jack pressed Kevin more tightly into his stomach. But when the girl’s head came into view, it was intact.

“What,” said Webber in response to Jack’s questioning look. “You thought I
liked
killing? Listen, this is about the bigger picture. The whole enchilada. There are stakes on either side of this little conflict we’re involved in, and I’m just trying to play by the rules.”

“More rules,” Jack said, snorting derisively.

“Morris is on her way. We need to be gone before she gets here.” Webber dropped the girl’s arm and stuffed the gun into the waistband of his jeans. “You do want to get your son to safety, right?”

“Yeah,” Jack said. Then he knelt down and placed a finger under Kevin’s chin, gently raising his head. “Hey, buddy, you ready to go?”

Kevin’s dark eyes met his—and they didn’t turn away.

“Dad, what’s going on?” Kevin’s voice was high and light. “Where’s J.J.?”

Jack’s mouth dropped open.

“Hold on. I remember.” Kevin looked around the room. “The girl? Where’s the girl?” When he spotted Bridgette lying unconscious on the floor, he shied away. After a second, his gaze reached Webber. “Who are you?”