The flashing blue lights were coming closer, swirling faintly in the cabin now. Heller swept a hand over the table and the battery-powered portable light crashed to the floor.
Louis inched backward, his eyes on Heller. Heller moved slowly forward, his bloody face intent on Louis, his chest heaving, the broken knife in his hand.
Back. . back. There was no way out. Back. . back. Blue lights swirling. And white now, the searchlight from the coast guard boat.
His heel hit something and he fell, catching himself against a bench as he hit the floor.
The bang stick.
He snatched it up, thrusting it out lengthwise across his chest to ward off the knife butt’s blows. He could hear Wainwright’s voice calling to him on the radio from across the room.
Heller inched forward. White light swept the room. Louis pressed back, squinting in the light, blinded each time it moved over the room. Each time he saw Heller’s bulky form above him, coming closer.
God. . they weren’t going to make it in time!
Then he saw it. There in the beam thrown out by the portable light, he saw the shell.
He grabbed it and pulled the open tip of the bang stick to him. He tried to jam the shell inside, but his fingers were stiff with blood. His hand was shaking, his eyes darting from the shell to Heller.
Damn it! Damn it!
The shell dropped in and he swung it around, pointing it at Heller.
Heller stopped, the knife butt in the air. Louis could hear him panting.
The white lights swept over them again.
Louis got up slowly, using the wall for support, keeping the bang stick aimed at Heller’s chest.
Heller took two more steps closer, drawing deep, raspy breaths.
Jesus Christ! He wasn’t going to stop.
Louis drew in the stick as far he could. Heller finally stopped. He looked down at the end of the stick, only inches from his heart, then back at Louis.
Louis stared at him, holding the bang stick with trembling arms.
Suddenly, it was clear. He had been right. Heller wanted to die. He had been trying to kill himself all along, trying to erase himself, and now he wanted Louis to do it for him.
Heller moved, leaning into the stick.
Louis jerked the bang stick downward and it exploded into Heller’s thigh.
Heller went down with a groan, disappearing between the benches. Louis fell back against the steel wall, slumping to the floor, sucking in air. Heller lifted his head.
Stay down! Stay down, you bastard!
Heller grabbed his ankle, and Louis jerked away, bringing the bang stick down on Heller’s shoulders. He kept coming, clawing at Louis’s legs, unfazed by the pounding of the rod. Heller was on him, swinging blindly, spewing blood.
Louis twisted sharply, and Heller rolled to his side, his shoulders caught for just a second under the bench. Louis yanked him back by his collar, then brought the bang stick across the front of his throat. He pulled back with every ounce of strength he had left.
Heller started gagging, his fingers curling around the stick. Louis jerked again. Heller writhed against him.
The white lights swept over the walls. The metal bar was thick with blood from his hands. He could hear sirens and voices.
Suddenly, Heller dropped his hands. His body went limp. “Finish it,” he gasped.
Louis froze.
Heller’s face snapped toward his. “Finish it!”
You son of a bitch! I’m not going to do it for you!
Louis shoved him away, slamming his head into a bench post. He grabbed Heller’s hair and slammed it again.
Heller went limp.
Louis struggled to his feet, panting. He saw a reel and stumbled to it, bringing it back to Heller. He jerked the line loose and wrapped it around Heller’s wrists and arms, pushing it through the legs of the bench and back again. Then yanked it tight, wedging the pole between the bench and the wall.
The lights sprayed the cabin in white.
He pulled himself to his feet, reeling toward the door.
The coast guard boat was abreast the starboard side of the Miss Monica now. Somebody was yelling over a megaphone, somebody was calling his name. Louis ignored the voice and staggered around to the port-side gangway.
He made his way to where Candy lay, dropping next to him on the deck. He rolled him over. Candy’s eyes were closed. His face looked like wet clay.
Louis pressed a finger to his neck. He felt a weak pulse.
He ripped open Candy’s raincoat. Blood was running from his belly down the deck. Louis pressed a hand to the wound, pulling Candy to him, using his body to shield him from the rain.
Oh God, no. . please. Not again.
The white lights swept over them again.
Chapter Forty-five
Someone draped a blanket around his shoulders. He didn’t look up. He kept his eyes on the distant wharf. He could see it now, make it out through the rain. He could see the muted colors of the boats, the gray of the restaurant. He could see the blue bubble lights.
They were waiting for him.
The engines of the coast guard boat vibrated with power under his feet. He heard the door of the cabin slide open and footsteps come near.
“We’re almost back.”
Louis nodded.
“Your friend, the other officer. . what’s his name?”
“Candy,” Louis said. “Greg Candy.”
He could see yellow raincoats swarming the docks now. He got up slowly, wincing in pain, holding the blanket around him as best he could with his bandaged hands. Slowly, he went over to the stretcher.
Candy’s eyes were closed, his face ashen. Louis watched for the rise and fall of his chest but saw nothing beneath the dark blue wool blanket.
“He’s lost a lot of blood,” a voice behind him said.
Louis turned to look at the young coast guard officer. “Is he going to make it?”
“We’re doing what we can. We’re almost back.”
Hang in there, Candy….
His eyes drifted to the other stretcher where Tyrone Heller lay strapped in. He was moaning, muttering something incoherent.
Like fragments from a dream, the details started swirling back to Louis in that moment. The heaviness of Heller’s body, the fury of his fists, the feel of the blade as it cut through his palm.
His stomach begin to churn.
The cold wet metal of the bang stick in his hand. The trembling in his arms as he held it against Heller’s throat.
Die, you fucker! Die!
No. . no. I’m not going to help you commit suicide.
The agonizing relief when Heller’s head crashed into the floor and he went limp.
Louis moved slowly away, going to stand at the window. They were at the dock. Men were throwing lines. Voices were barking out commands. The sounds of boots on the metal deck outside. The door opened again and four paramedics came in, followed by two cops. The cops wore heavy slickers and Louis couldn’t make out where they were from. They swarmed the stretchers, the paramedics picking up Candy and carefully carrying him out. The cops pushed by the other two paramedics, cuffing Heller to the gurney. Louis watched as they moved as a group to the ambulances waiting out in the lot.
The young coast guard officer was standing there holding out a raincoat.
“Paramedics are standing by for you, Officer Kincaid,” he said.
Louis nodded woodenly and allowed the man to drape the raincoat over his shoulders.
The first person he saw was Wainwright, hovering over Candy until they closed the doors on the ambulance. Then Wainwright’s eyes swiveled back to the boat. He moved forward, waiting at the end of the dock for Louis. Emily was a small figure in bright green behind him. He went to them.