Dale pulled the trigger on his gun. His father got a shot off too, and glass shattered somewhere in the cabin.
Then, it was over and Ridley was on the ground. I grabbed the suede blanket from the back of the couch, and shoved it against his shoulder. His face was pale, his eyes glossy with pain.
In front of me, father and son faced off, guns raised. They were just a few feet apart, so almost any shot fired would hit its target. The only difference was, Derrell Mitchell, Sr didn’t look at all disturbed by the idea of killing his son. Dale, however, looked more torn than anybody I’d ever seen in my life.
“Kill the fucker,” Ridley whispered.
I looked down at him.
He reached up with his good hand, panting.
I’d been thinking the same thing until the moment Ridley had spoken it out loud. If Dale hadn’t been there, maybe things would’ve been different, but I’d watched Dale save Carly and Haley’s life. He’d tried to save mine. I might have still wanted to kill Mitchell, but I wasn’t sure I could do that to Dale. Not again. I’d taken his brother from him. Could I take his father too? And right in front of him? Could I be that kind of monster?
But...
Haley’s face flashed into my mind. Carly’s.
Then I looked down at Ridley.
No, I didn’t like the son of a bitch, and if he hadn’t been bleeding out from a gunshot, I might’ve tried beating the shit out of him, but he hadn’t been the mastermind here. Mitchell had used him to get to my daughter. Mitchell had been ready to kill anybody he could just to get to me.
Now it looked like anybody included his own son.
The least I could do for Dale was save his life, no matter what it meant for me.
Slowly, I slid my hand into the pocket of the borrowed pants, closed it around the grip of the gun. It felt heavier than I knew it was. I’d taken lives before and they each came with a weight.
Like before, though, this was something I had to do.
“Put that toy down, Dale, or use it. Because I ain’t gonna wait much longer.” As he threatened his son, he smiled.
“Dad, don’t do this,” Dale pleaded.
I had no doubt Dale could do it. He was a cop and if the man in front of him hadn’t been his father, he’d probably already be dead. But Dale didn’t have much family left. He was being forced to choose between his dad, and the man who’d killed his brother.
I couldn’t let him make that choice.
I took a step forward.
“Why are you pointing that at him, Mitchell?” I said softly. “I’m the one you want dead.”
“Bobby, shut up!” Dale shouted.
“Come on, Mitchell,” I said, ignoring Dale as I continued to walk. They hadn’t looked away from the other, and I could see the tension they had on their respective triggers. “Put the guns down. Mitchell, you and I can leave here, get in my car and just leave. You get the keys, you decide where we go.”
“I’m not looking to take you on a Sunday cruise, boy.”
“The cops are going to be swarming this place soon.” I shrugged, layering on the bullshit as fast as I could. “They weren’t too concerned about sending an ex-con up here, but you had a kid. You had Carly. Once she gets to the cops and tells them that it’s just us, well, you screwed yourself right there.”
He swung the gun in my direction. “You think I don’t know what’s going to happen? I’m a dead man already! I just plan on taking you with me!”
Dale lunged.
Mitchell swung the gun back and pulled the trigger.
The impact stopped Dale in his tracks. He went to his knees, his hands going to his chest.
Mitchell let out a sound that was part roar, part denial and then he spun around to face me. “You see what you made me do! You see!” He stormed toward me and grabbed my left arm. He half-dragged me toward Dale’s body as I struggled to keep my grip on the gun with my right hand.
I stared down at Dale, at his slack face, his closed eyes – at his moving chest.
There was no blood.
No blood.
My eyes caught the tear in his shirt and I almost choked, trying to keep quiet as I saw the dark fibers of a Kevlar vest.
But Mitchell didn’t see any of that.
He swung back to face me and I didn’t move in time to dodge the butt of his gun. Pain exploded across my face and I fell, unable to catch myself and still keep the gun hidden in my pocket.
“You stupid, stupid...”
Dully, I saw him move to kick Dale and I crawled, placing my body between them. “Don’t,” I muttered. Blood filled my mouth and I choked, gagged. I spit out a mouthful and then another.
“Your fault.” Mitchell stumbled a few feet away. “I lost it all because of you. My wife. My boys. It’s all you.”
He turned and stared at me.
I saw the gun lifting.
I dragged mine free, but I already knew I was too late.
The crashing noise mingled with white-hot pain.
The last thing I remembered was the look of surprise on his face, and then he was falling, right down on top of me.
Chapter 22
So that’s it. That’s my story.
Eighteen months ago, I was shot, point-blank, in the head.
I’ve gotten bits and pieces of what happened since there’s no memory of anything after Mitchell falling.
The cops rushed in, apparently, and started CPR, but Mitchell died en route to the hospital. Dale survived the bullet he took in the chest with only a bruise.
I found out he left the police department and took up working with troubled kids. He and his wife are expecting their first child in a couple months.
Ridley lived too. He confessed everything, from what he’d told Mitchell to how Carly had ended up in the house. There had been some questionable involvement with the letters, but since Carly had spoken to the prosecutor on his behalf, he’d been let off with probation and a shitload of community service.
Of course, Ryan fired his ass, so Ridley had to move out and find a new job.
I didn’t know any of this for quite a while after it happened because I spent the next few months in a coma.
Then I had to learn...well, pretty much everything all over again.
I had to learn how to talk, walk, feed myself, take a fucking shower and tie my shoes. I was like some giant fucking toddler.
The one thing I hadn’t needed to re-learn was her. The day I woke up, the first thing I saw was Carly, sitting at the side of my bed, reading to me.
She had a copy of Harry Potter and The Sorcerer’s Stone. Harry had been sitting in Snape’s class for the first time.
I don’t remember which line she’d been reading. Those memories of the first few days are still kind of weird. I do remember sitting there and staring at her and just...waiting.
She looked up and didn’t even seem surprised to see that I was awake. It was like she’d been waiting too. Just waiting for me to wake up.
I had to spend months in rehab, and then more months yet going to outpatient rehab, and I still have a few more appointments before everybody thinks I’ll be as good as new, or at least as good as I’ll ever be.
I’ll never think I’m good enough to go back to guarding Carly. I couldn’t trust myself to be strong enough to save her. Ryan had immediately understood when I’d told him. Carly had taken a bit more convincing, but when she realized I wasn’t trying to quit us, just the job, she’d relented.
Like I’d ever give her up.
Even at my darkest moments, Carly had been the one thing that had kept me going. And there had been some pretty shitty moments.
The walking part came pretty easy.
Feeding myself? Even easier. I always liked to eat. Even if I did make a mess of myself for a while. Certain more personal things took a bit longer, and those were humiliating enough.
The worst part though was not being able to talk.
I couldn’t even say the simplest things. Hell, Dave’s daughter was talking better than I was. I’d go to say hello and the word just wouldn’t come out. It had taken weeks before I could make my mouth form words. It had been almost two months before I could even say Carly’s name.