Shelton’s sudden movement caused Carmen to stumble and the two went down in a heap, Carmen screaming, Shelton making animal sounds as they hit the old wooden slats of the porch. Then Shelton was on his knees, pulling Carmen’s hair as he tried to bring her up as a shield again, his gun-in-hand rising to take its place at her temple.
Looking down at them, Harrow didn’t hesitate — his hand whipped around his back and came back with the nine millimeter, which he aimed and fired in one smooth motion, the bullet punching through Shelton’s forehead, the crack of his skull audible, the gunshot itself a thundercrack that seemed to shake the old house.
The gun clunked from the killer’s hand to the porch as limp fingers released Carmen’s hair, and the self-styled messenger slumped to weathered wooden slats, dead as his family, dead as Harrow’s family, oozing brains that had been damaged long prior to the bullet.
Then Carmen was in Harrow’s arms, sobbing, holding him tight, as they sat on the bottom porch step. For his part, he just stroked her hair and let her cry.
Chapter Thirty-six
Hathaway and Arroyo were next to Harrow and Carmen, filming even before Gibbons and his men got there.
“Byrnes broke in on America’s Wackiest Wedding Videos,” Hathaway said, obviously stoked. “That’s the network’s second-biggest show, you know.”
Arroyo said, “Whole thing went out on the network live — seven-second delay, of course, in case somebody got shot.”
“That’s entertainment,” Harrow said, and Carmen interrupted her crying to snort a laugh, then returned to her tears.
Even as the cameramen spoke, they never stopped shooting. The audio personnel were moving in now, as well.
Laurene and Choi appeared, and managed to each get in the way of a camera as Harrow helped Carmen to her feet. With Laurene, getting in front of a camera was accidental; with Choi, Harrow wasn’t so sure.
Finally he asked Carmen, “How are you doing?”
Her tear-smeared face had a bitter cast. “You talked him down. They didn’t have to take that shot.”
“I know. Bastards risked both our lives.”
“You gonna do something about that, boss?”
“You bet your... paycheck.”
She managed a feeble smile. “You think I could go back to being a PA now? Stardom suddenly doesn’t look so good.”
“No going back, Carmen. We’re both stuck.”
“Are your ears ringing? Mine are.”
“You were close to that gunshot. It’ll ease up.”
That was when Carlos Moreno came up and cornered them, microphone in hand. Apparently Gibbons’s perimeter was as secure as a sand castle at high tide.
Moreno thrust the microphone at Carmen.
Harrow was about to slap the goddamn thing aside when she pulled away from him, stood upright.
Moreno said, “Carmen Garcia, we’re on live on UBC. How do you feel?”
And the former hostage was instantly “on.”
“Well, Carlos, I can tell you this — it’s good to be alive. I owe everything to J.C. Harrow, who has to be the bravest man on the planet.”
“What about the alleged killer who held you captive?”
“Carlos, I feel bad for Mr. Shelton. He was a very troubled soul. He lost his family, much as J.C. did...”
Harrow had heard enough. He moved toward the sidewalk, where various official vehicles were pulling in.
Sheriff Gibbons came up to him. “You did good, J.C.”
“You didn’t,” Harrow said.
The sheriff’s expression might have been the aftermath of a slap. “What the hell...”
“Your goddamned deputy tried to gun him down just when I’d talked him into coming in peacefully.”
Gibbons took a step back. “We didn’t know — we couldn’t hear...”
“Hell you couldn’t,” Harrow said. “You were right next door and heard everything. And the second your guy Wilson had a shot, you told him go for it — risking my life, and Carmen’s, needlessly... and robbing us of a suspect who might clear up countless murder cases.”
“Goddamnit, Harrow, he had a gun on the Garcia woman! You would have done the—”
“Same thing? Don’t think so. He was surrendering, you dick. Your man, and your go order, put the two of us in the line of fire. Then I had to do your dirty work for you.”
“Well, J.C., I’m sorry you feel that way, but I feel we did the right thing. You’ll cool off, and you’ll think about it, and—”
Harrow had heard enough of that bullshit, too. He walked away from the increasingly noisy scene, needing some silence. Heading toward the crime lab semi, he felt someone fall in next to him.
Laurene Chase.
She gave him a sunny smile. “Rough day at the office?”
He shrugged. “Same-o, same-o.”
“Carmen’s alive,” she said. “That’s a good day at the office, no matter what else went down.”
He nodded, not knowing if he really agreed. He was thrilled Carmen was alive, but he had been so close to bringing in the suspect the same way...
Up ahead, Pall and Anderson were pacing like expectant fathers. Jenny Blake stood off to herself a little, arms folded. They all fell in line behind their boss and his number two, following like puppies.
Harrow’s cell vibrated. Checking the caller ID, he saw: DENNIS BYRNES.
Holding out the phone to Laurene, he said, “You talk to him.”
She took the phone, and he went up the metal stairs and into the crime lab to be alone.
He closed the door and sat down in a chair. The man who had killed his family was dead, killed by Harrow himself. But Ellen and David were gone forever, and any sense of closure was not revealing itself.
Why did he feel so goddamn empty?
And why did this long journey still feel unresolved?
Chapter Thirty-seven
Once Harrow was tucked away in the semi, Laurene Chase and Billy Choi stationed themselves at the stairs, blocking the way, as the other three team members — Pall, Anderson, and Blake — went off to check on Carmen.
The cell Harrow had handed off was throbbing away in Laurene’s grasp. Finally she took the call.
Dennis Byrnes’s voice exploded in her ear: “Harrow, that was bloody awesome! You are the man!”
“Mr. Byrnes, this is Laurene Chase. J.C. isn’t taking any calls right now. He’s winding down. You’re obviously aware of what he’s been through.”
“I am, Ms. Chase, and let me share my enthusiasm and delight with you. You tell J.C. that the UBC switchboard is lit up like Christmas, and the website’s crashed, so many viewers trying to get through. This is the moon landing and the final episode of M*A*S*H and the Super Bowl with Lee Harvey Oswald and Jack Ruby tossed in for good measure.”
“And that’s a good thing?”
“It’s a fantastic thing. This goes beyond our network — every other broadcast network and all the twenty-four-hour news channels are breaking into their regularly scheduled programming, and why? To advertise UBC and Crime Seen! You tell J.C. that I don’t know how he managed this, but—”
“He didn’t ‘manage’ anything, sir. He did what he promised you he would — he tracked down the murderer of his family and let you broadcast it.”
“Ms. Chase, you tell Harrow I want him back in LA tomorrow. We have to get to work and figure out what we’re going to do for November sweeps to take advantage of this wave of publicity.”