Inevitable Sentences (29 page)

Celeste held her hand over the pouch, waiting for Chad’s next move, her thoughts whirling through various possible scenarios. While he remained focused out the window, she slipped the knife out and pressed it between the seat cushion and her leg. With any luck she’d be able to defend herself, maybe disable him enough to render him powerless. It would take a miracle. He was strong—and known to murder without reason. Wounding him might not be enough, might even be worse. Worse than what? Worse than sitting here, waiting for him to pull the trigger?

Could she kill him? She stiffened her spine slightly, as if to ready herself. Her own death would simply compound the pointlessness of Pilar’s.

If she had to she would kill him and would never regret it for a moment of the rest of her life. Her hand tightened on the knife. The handle was cool and strong.

“Can’t see a damn thing out there, except those police lights.” Still looking out, he spoke as though the two of them were having a friendly chat. Suddenly his tone sharpened. “Did you think I wouldn’t recognize the voice of the man who controlled my every move for almost a decade?” He carefully pressed the drapes closed and faced Celeste. “Don’t you think it will give me great pleasure to kill you, knowing the damage I’m inflicting on Whitefeather, too?” He chuckled at her gasp. “Ah. The Hawk Haven grapevine. Lizzie told me about you and the good warden. Your friend Priscilla didn’t know when to shut up. It’s perfect. Two birds.” He pointed the gun at the drapes, then at Celeste, and back. “One bullet.”

Time for her last appeal. “Chad,” she whispered, hoping she was infusing her voice with compassion. “Can killing me change anything in your past?”

Chad’s forehead crinkled. Didn’t he understand what she was asking? Perhaps no one had ever posed such a question to him before. Certainly not his enabling mother.

After several minutes Chad resumed his pacing and said nothing. Celeste didn’t know how to take his silence. Maybe he was actually thinking over her question. Or could he be rethinking his plans to murder her, and how he would escape?

Chad stopped in front of Celeste. He inspected the gun. He pulled some bullets from his pocket and loaded the chamber. He drew the weapon level with her head. “I think the time is now.”

“What do you mean?” Any question to buy time, even the most obvious.

“You’re right.”

Chad’s compliant comment confused Celeste. What did he mean? Had he changed his mind? Did he think his killings would get him nowhere? That he couldn’t escape?

“Killing you may not change my past, but it sure will make me feel good.” His mouth again formed that same evil smile that curled up one corner. His expression became one of total determination. “I must finish the task I came to do and get out of here.” He walked to the side of Celeste’s chair and placed the gun against her temple. “It’s bye-bye time.”

She gathered every bit of energy she had left. In a flash she raised the knife and slashed Chad’s hand holding the gun.

Chad squealed like a pig as his hand jolted upward and the gun fired. The bullet came so close to Celeste, she could feel a breeze when it sped by her ear.

The knife only grazed Chad’s skin, but the action caught him off guard for a moment. He lunged at Celeste, gun pointed straight at her forehead. She was prepared. As soon as he drew close enough, she plunged the knife into his groin and withdrew it quickly. Celeste marveled that the action felt no different than thrusting a knife into a raw roast.

Chad fell backward, shrieking wildly. His body writhed at her feet. The gun slid from his hand. His screams dropped to whimpers, then finally to an occasional gasp. He curled into a ball and stopped moving.

Celeste sat still for a few seconds, watching the blood spreading a stain on his pants. She was stunned by her own strength. She had struck as if her own injuries were minor. It amazed her to discover the energy she could summon when her life was at stake. Certainly Chad could have the same kind of strength. She had to be careful.

When she felt certain Chad was no longer a danger, she dared a move herself. Time to get out of the lighthouse to the safety of the police outside. She eyed the gun and pushed herself from the chair, still clutching the bloody knife. She carefully stepped over Chad’s body and trod silently toward the gun, which lay near the kitchen and—she thought with relief—the closest exit.

Her hand was inches from the gun when Chad reached his arm out and grabbed Celeste’s ankle.

She dropped to the floor and tried to snake her way to the gun, but Chad’s grip held her tightly in place. Kicking out at him, she kept wiggling toward the weapon.

Chad pulled her away from the gun and closer to him. He groaned with the first tug, and groaned again as he dragged her backward. “I thought you wanted to help me,” he said. “I thought you wanted to make up for what was taken from me. You lied like all the rest of them.” His voice was strained yet oddly calm.

The dizziness Celeste felt earlier had come back with vengeance. The room spun around in a hazy arc. The furniture and pictures appeared like a mirage quivering in humid air. Focus. Focus.

Chad’s labored breathing was at her ear. “You can’t get away.” He panted the words. “No matter what you do to me, I’m still stronger and more determined than you. You might as well give up.” He moaned and was still, his arm draped across her waist in the mocking embrace.

He was wrong. He didn’t know Celeste’s determination. He didn’t know what she was capable of. “I’m sure the police heard the shot.” Celeste had to force the words out. “They’ll be here. It doesn’t matter that I’ve hurt you. They will kill you.” She tucked an arm under her head and hid the hand that held the knife. She lowered her pounding head against her arm to rest and wait.

Celeste only stayed in that position for a few moments. No way would she give up so easily. Chad might be bluffing. He might not have the severe and debilitating injuries he was letting her believe.

Celeste counted to ten, and then rolled over so quickly she again took Chad by surprise. She plunged the blade one more time into his groin and yanked it out. With barely a second’s hesitation, she thrust it into his neck.

Chad’s scream was piercingly shrill. Blood spurted from his neck like an angry fountain and splattered over her and around the room.

“I will not die easily, Chad Wilbanks.” To yell this way made Celeste feel strong, like a warrior. Like a victor.

Chad fell away. His eyes focused on her, pleading for her sympathy as Celeste wriggled free. She raised herself to her hands and knees and crawled to the gun, snatching it and turning as Chad raised himself to lunge again.

Where did he get his stamina?

With hands shaking, Celeste lifted the weapon and pointed it at him. She had never held a firearm before and she wasn’t sure how to use it, but when Chad was nearly on top of her, she pulled the trigger. Miraculously, the gun fired. The odd thought came to her: how ridiculously easy.

The bullet hit him in the chest, knocking him back. “That was for Pilar,” she said. She fired again at the same spot.
Make the wound big,
she reasoned. Big enough he really couldn’t come after her again. “That one was for me.” She fired over and over until there were no more bullets.

She pushed herself into a corner and sat with the empty gun still pointed at Chad as he staggered backward and toppled a table, which careened across the room. She sat there until Chad hit the floor with a moan and let out a hiss as if his life was escaping on the exhaled breath. Then he went undeniably still. His eyes remained open, staring forever at the ceiling.

Was it over? Celeste wondered. Had she killed him? How could all this happen to her? She had never hurt anyone before. She had never believed killing someone was the answer to anything. Was she a murderer, like Chad?

She let the gun fall. It hit the floor with a thud that echoed in the quiet room. She had to face an ugly truth: stabbing Chad had felt good. Celeste would never have forgiven him for Pilar’s death, but she’d never thought she wanted revenge until tonight. Or had she wanted this revenge since the first day she had met him? She could have gone for the jugular, but she didn’t, and it felt satisfying to plunge that blade into him. Here was a new side to herself that would take time to assess.

Yet her actions did mean she was still alive, and an evil person was not. It did mean that Chad would never harm another soul, and that struck her as absolutely right.

Celeste leaned her head against the wall. She could hear footsteps approaching outside. She wrapped her sweater tightly around herself and rubbed her arms. She wanted to stoke the fire so she could get warm but couldn’t summon the energy to get up. She was too exhausted and in too much pain. She would wait here, in this position. The voices she had heard would find her.

T
HE GUNSHOT FROM THE
lighthouse echoed in and out of the naked trees in the forest. As soon as Max heard it he started running. When Hunter saw Max on the run, he charged after him and nearly tackled him to the ground.

Max spun around so rapidly his motion propelled Hunter backward and onto one knee. Max’s face registered both fear and anger. “What the hell are you doing?” he shouted at Hunter. “You heard that shot. The only one carrying a weapon in that house is Wilbanks.”

Hunter stood and brushed his pant leg. “You can’t go in there. You also know I have men surrounding the house. If I don’t have to babysit you, I can get them on standby to storm the building. But we have to be sure what we’re doing and what we may face.”

“Are you thinking I don’t know what I’m doing?” Max spat out the question. “Because I’ve handled a few riots and hostage situations in my day, too.” He was livid with Hunter’s insinuation. What could Hunter be thinking? Max would never do anything foolish enough to jeopardize Celeste or encourage more violence out of Wilbanks.

Hunter placed one hand on each of Max’s shoulders and stared into his eyes. “You’re acting from your heart and not as a warden. You left your usual common sense and methodical approach back at the hospital, which, by the way, is where you should still be. I can’t have you bulldozing your way onto the crime scene only to be cut down by Wilbanks. What good would that do? You need to let me and my deputies handle this one.”

Max pushed Hunter’s hands away. “No need to treat me like a child. You had better get inside that house soon or I will put my best tactics into place and settle this thing my own way, with or without you. We can’t hang out here sucking our thumbs much longer.” Max knew that time was usually on the negotiator’s side. However, such strategy only worked if the negotiator was actually communicating with the hostage taker, and that wasn’t happening. There was another caveat—what about that gunshot?

Eagle stepped between Max and Hunter. He had kept quiet and out of the way for most of the evening. Maybe, Max thought, Eagle blamed himself for the escape and Celeste’s situation. Max had to be careful not to blame Eagle, too.

Hunter’s radio went off. The EST leader told him that none of his men had a clear shot. “But,” he added, “I feel we shouldn’t put off an assault any longer. It’s time to go in.”

“Right. Let’s do it.” Hunter turned to Max. “You heard him. We’re going to take the place. Stay away until I tell you it’s safe to enter.” He glared first at Max, then Eagle.

“Right,” Eagle said. Although he sounded hesitant, he left the two other men and walked to the sheriff’s SUV, where he leaned against the hood. From there, Max realized, Eagle had a good view of the area and could keep an eye on the house.

When Max finally nodded in agreement, Hunter left for the lighthouse. Max watched as Hunter signaled the team leader, who in turn gestured his men to move out. The well-trained team, dressed in dark protective clothing, progressed in a synchronized march forward. If Max hadn’t seen them at the onset, he would hardly have made out their presence because they blended so well into the darkness.

Max waited until the EST headed for their posts and they and Hunter no longer cared about anything except what they’d find inside. As Max watched, he took his third nitroglycerine tablet. Fortunately, Hunter was preoccupied and didn’t notice or he’d most likely send Max back to the hospital.

When Max felt confident that no one was paying attention to him, he followed behind as stealthily as a cat stalking its prey. He had no intention of standing by while Celeste needed him. When he passed Eagle he warned him away with a shake of his head. Eagle nodded and didn’t budge from his station.

By the time Hunter realized that Max had followed him, he couldn’t halt the EST’s advance or take the time to scold Max. He had no other choice but to accept the fact that Max would be part of the team about to storm the premises.

Hunter motioned to Max to stay behind him. On the count of three from the EST leader, teams of two broke through the three doors and burst into the house in unison. They would be counting on the fact that Wilbanks would be confused by men entering from every direction and therefore be easier to take down. Wilbanks wouldn’t know in which direction to shoot—Max fervently hoped not at Celeste.

Max stopped breathing for a moment. A vision flashed into his mind of Chad holding a gun to Celeste’s head. If the EST didn’t act quickly enough, Chad would certainly shoot Celeste. Max released his breath slowly. It floated in frosty wisps from his mouth.

Hunter and Max followed the two who entered through the kitchen with weapons drawn. EST members cautiously went from area to area. If, after a search of each room, corner or alcove, they found nothing, one would announce, “Clear.”

Max stepped over the threshold and stopped. The silence had hit him straight in the face. “It’s too quiet,” he murmured. He’d never been in the lighthouse without hearing the screeches of the children challenging one another at a game, or pots and pans clanking in the kitchen, or the women laughing and gossiping. The silence hurt his ears. He longed for the usual chaos.

Max took one more step and stopped again. Did he have the nerve to face what the quiet yelled in his ears? He braced a hand on the wall.
Buck up. You’re being a damn coward,
he told himself.