It was kill or be killed, and Mitch knew it. And he knew something else. Something that they both knew, which was that Jase had already used his gun and Mitch had not. Jase had proved himself capable of killing. Mitch had not. Jase had crossed over to the dark side of human behavior. Mitch had not.
Jase knew from murder. Mitch knew from Rin Tin Tin.
“What’s it going to be, Jase?” he repeated, his voice raised over the helicopter, which was whirring louder and louder as it descended on the castle’s parking lot. “For once in your life, make up your own goddamned mind, will you?”
“Don’t come any closer,” warned Jase, his finger squeezing tighter and tighter on that trigger. “Don’t do this! Please, don’t! I’m begging you…!”
CHAPTER 18
There wasn’t a huge amount of blood. This was a good thing.
Which was not to say that Des’s forearm wasn’t bleeding as she slumped there at the kitchen table, staring at it dumbly. But the entry and exit wounds were seeping, not gushing. That meant the bullet hadn’t blown out an artery and she wouldn’t bleed to death before the chopper got there.
The bone was definitely broken. It wasn’t protruding through the skin or anything, but it was broken. Des knew it because she couldn’t move her hand at all-the nerves just plain wouldn’t respond. She knew it because of the unbelievably gut-wrenching pain, pain so bad that she felt as if she might pass out. But she could not, must not.
Because as bad as her arm hurt, Des was more concerned about Mitch and what was happening to him out there in the snow. She’d heard a couple of gunshots not long after he’d chased out the door after Jase. Then nothing. She feared the worst. And no matter how hard she tried not to, she kept thinking about that damned old movie of his. About how he’d said it all turned out in the end:
“No one gets out alive.”
“Something has happened to Mitch,” she declared, struggling to get up out of her chair. “I have to help him.”
“You have to sit still is what you have to do,” Hannah said firmly, pushing her back down into the chair and holding her there. It was Hannah who had taken charge after they’d all coming rushing in. Hannah who had ordered Aaron, Carly, Spence and Teddy out of the kitchen. Not that they’d seemed any too anxious to stay. “For your information, missy, you have just been shot.”
“But Mitch needs me.” For some strange reason, Des couldn’t manage to struggle out of Hannah’s grasp. Which she found totally amazing. It was incredible how strong Hannah was. Jory seemed to agree. Jory who sat there across the table from her, her head listed over to one side, one eye open, the other eye gone. Jory who was…
I am going to faint. I must not faint.
Hannah was wrapping a clean dish towel around her right forearm. And she was talking to her. “Do you know where you are?” Hannah’s voice seemed very far away and yet very close at the same time. And the light in the kitchen seemed uncommonly bright. “Do you know who you are?”
“I totally do. I’m Resident Trooper Desiree Velma Mitry. I live at number seventeen Uncas Lake Road. I am a Virgo. I wear a size twelve and one-half double-A shoe…”
“Wow, you’re a big girl, Desiree Velma.”
“Yeah, I’m all grown up now. And I have to go help Mitch.”
“Mitch can take care of himself, big girl.”
“Hannah, I love that man to death, but he’s never squeezed out a round in his life.” Again, Des struggled to get up. “I’ve got to go help him.”
“You’re not going anywhere,” Hannah growled, shoving her back down into her chair again with amazing ease. It had to be the bullet wound. That was it. She wasn’t at full strength. “Des, could we cover Jory over or something?”
“We don’t want to be going anywhere near her. That’s for the Crime Scene people.”
“Okay, sure. Whatever you say. Here, can you hold this in place for me?”
Des used her left hand to press the towel against her wounded forearm while Hannah went riffling through the drawers over by the sink. A little blood was starting to ooze through the towel by the time Hannah returned with a pair of wooden cooking spoons.
“We’re going to splint this puppy until we can get you to the hospital,” she informed Des briskly. “How does that sound to you?”
“Fine, great. Just get it done.” Des gazed up at her. “Hey, I owe you one.”
“Not a problem. Believe me, my mom will be thrilled that all of my first aid training came in so handy today.”
“I’m sure plenty grateful,” Des said, hearing another gunshot now, this one from farther away. Much farther. “Especially if you can speed this the hell up.”
“Des, I’m doing the best I can,” Hannah said patiently. “Could you put your hand out on the table for me, palm up? No, up. That’s a girl. Good job.” Hannah placed the back of one spoon in Des’s palm, running the length of it up the inside of her arm toward her elbow. “Okay, go ahead and close your hand around that for me.”
Now Des heard a second gunshot in the distance.
Mitch. I have to save Mitch.
“Des, you’re not helping me here. Can you close your hand?”
Des really tried to, but her right hand wouldn’t respond at all. It did occur to her that this might present a problem. It was kind of an important hand, after all. Her drawing hand.
“Not to worry,” Hannah assured her. “Just hold the spoon there for me with your other hand, okay? That’s a girl.” Quickly, Hannah positioned the second spoon against the back of Des’s hand and forearm, and wrapped a second kitchen towel around the two spoons. She secured the improvised splint in place with a pair of cloth napkins, one knotted at Des’s wrist, the other at her elbow. Then she folded a checkered tablecloth into a big triangle and fashioned a sling out of it, first cradling Des’s wounded arm inside it, then tying the ends together around Des’s neck. “Try to keep the arm elevated, okay? And don’t eat or drink anything. Not even water. They may want to go in as soon as you’re out of X ray.”
“‘Go in?’” Des repeated, frowning at her.
“Operate. If there’s anything in your stomach, it might delay them. That’s why I’m not giving you any Tylenol.”
“I just ate a sandwich.”
“Okay, be sure they know that.”
As Des shifted her arm around inside the sling, wincing from the pain, she became aware of a faint whirring noise. She couldn’t tell where it was coming from. It sure wasn’t coming from Jory there across the table. Possibly it was inside her own head. Her wheels spinning away as she wondered where Mitch was, how Mitch was. If she could get to him before he got his head blown off. If she could fire one of those deer rifles with only her one good arm. Didn’t matter. She had to try. She got up out of her chair now and tottered over toward the gun case on rubber legs, fishing around with her left hand for Les’s key ring in the pocket of her beloved shearling coat, ruined now. Two bullet holes, bloodstains. Then again, maybe that all just gave it more character. What would Vogue call it, Victim Chic?
“Just exactly what do you think you’re doing?” Hannah demanded.
“My job,” she replied, wondering which key would open the case. She ought to just smash the glass open with a cast-iron skillet. “I’ve got to help Mitch.”
“Des, you can’t! You’ve go to sit still until…” Hannah fell silent, standing there with her ears cocked. She’d heard it, too. The whirring noise. She went over to the window and glanced hopefully up at the bright blue sky. “I think your helicopter’s here, Des. I think it wants to land.”
Des could hear it loud and clear now, hovering directly overhead. “Come on, we need to be out there in the parking lot when they touch down. There’s no time to waste. This is urgent.”