Beyond Blue (31 page)

“Daddy?” Amy had entered from Chastity's left but stopped halfway across the kitchen floor. She raised her hands to chest height, as if she was about to push something out of her way. Alex Brooks turned halfway toward her, not wanting to lose sight of his wife.

Water dripped down Chastity's long black hair onto her tailbone, but that was not the cause of the chill running down her spine. Alex Brooks caused that. When he turned, she could finally see his service pistol clenched in his right fist.

Gunny used his key card to open the office door and stepped into the darkened reception area. Only after he turned on the lights did Gorman step out of his own little room. It was dark there too, and his face was even darker.

“What's up, boss? You look like hell.”

I look like I feel,” Gorman said, moving out to the front desk counter. “It's all coming down right now and I'm having a tough time keeping it all together. Where's Lucania?”

“Don't really know,” Gunny said, aiming for the coffeepot. “He had to report in and I figured it was better for me to be elsewhere.”

Gorman put both palms on the counter and leaned heavily. “We need him now. He still bugged with the directional gizmo?”

“Probably,” Gunny said, filling his mug. “Not likely he had time to change his clothes.”

“Well, get over here,” Gorman said. “You're the only one who knows how to work that gear. We got to find him now.”

Gunny looked over his shoulder, more worried than angry. Gorman had never spoken to him that way, in all the years they had worked together. He must have really been worried. Gunny carried his mug over to his seat, dropped into his oversized chair and booted up his computer. While he typed in his password, Gorman's fingertips were drumming an erratic rhythm on the counter surface. Gunny could feel his boss' eyes on him as he opened the GPS-based locator program.

“What are we going to do, boss?” Gunny asked. “I'm afraid Lorenzo's probably on his boss' shit list right now, and I'm also afraid he might have shot that guy if you hadn't sent Chastity over to bail us out.”

Gorman didn't respond right away, but he walked around behind Gunny and looked over his shoulder while he moved the cursor to zero in on a flashing light. The light pulsed on a grid that overlaid a Manhattan map. Gunny zoomed in on the map until only nine blocks fit on the monitor screen.

“There he is, boss. Not far from here in Chinatown.”

“Good,” Gorman said, his voice filled with resolve. “You wanted to know what we were going to do. We're going to get your boy out. Now. Call us a cab, Gunny, and let's go face Lucania's demons with him.”

Alex Brooks waved his long arm and Amy scurried into the living room. She almost dove onto her mother on the sofa, hugging her close. Alex turned to face them. Francine pulled her daughter to one side so she could see her husband's eyes.

Chastity moved her left hand to the window and pushed. This window was designed to slide to the side to open. A small push told her it was unlocked. She continued to slide it to her right. As it opened she could hear the conversation inside more and more clearly.

“Alex, please,” Francine said. “Put that thing away. You don't want to shoot anybody.”

“She's my daughter, for God's sake,” Alex screamed, waving his left arm wildly. “You were going to make her lie about me? And of all things, that ugly lie? What kind of an evil, hateful bitch are you?”

“Daddy, you don't understand,” Amy said, tears flowing down her face.

“Shut up!” Alex shouted, pulling his arm back as if for a backhand slap. Amy shrank back into the couch cushions, trembling.

Chastity was staring at the back of Alex's head. She had a good, clean shot. She could end this drama right now. If these people were strangers that is what she would do. The safe thing. The prudent thing. It was what her brain and her training were telling her to do.

Alex Brooks pointed his gun directly at the spot between Francine's fawn brown eyes.

“Damn it, I loved you. I loved you.” Distant thunder rolled across the sky, but it didn't stop Chastity from hearing the tears in Alex's voice too. He was the danger in this situation, but he was not the enemy. She knew this man and his family, and she knew this did not have to end ugly. To hell with safe. To hell with prudent. She would do what her heart and her instincts were telling her to do.

In one slow, smooth movement, Chastity pulled herself up. Her head moved inside the kitchen, suddenly not being pelted from above. She pushed harder, forcing her upper body into the house. Her arms ached as they reached full extension, but kept her movement silent.

“Tell me why?” Alex was waving both arms at his wife. “Why?”

Francine leaned forward, her fear fading from her face. “You could never understand, Alex. And that's why I had to.”

Chastity thought that if left alone, Francine could well talk herself into a bullet. Chastity's eyes were on Alex but without warning, her attention was pulled to the side. She found herself staring into Amy's eyes. The child had spotted her. Amy's jaw dropped as she prepared to speak. Chastity shook her head violently left to right, water flying from her hair. Amy swallowed, closed her mouth and turned back to her father.

“I worked every day,” Alex screamed. “Gave you everything, everything you asked for, and you leave me for some short, fat, ugly asshole?”

“You think that's what it's all about?” Francine was almost as loud as Alex now. She stared up at him as if, for a moment she really cared. “You think broad shoulders and a nice face makes you a man?”

“Shut up!” Alex said, with intimidating calm.

“Marty's a real man.”

“I said shut up.” He leveled the gun again, this time at her chest.

Chastity curled forward, her head dipping into the sink. Her legs curled in and her entire body was inside. She rolled forward, knowing that this was the moment when she would know if her instincts were right. Forcing calm to take her over, Chastity released the windowsill and flipped forward to land on her feet in a deep crouch on the kitchen floor.

Alex spun, aiming toward the sound of her landing with the two-handed grip he had learned to use when meeting any intruder. He might have fired immediately, but he did not. Chastity had a chance. She stood slowly, palms forward at waist level. He didn't seem to recognize her until she took a couple of steps forward, out of the shadows.

“You! What the hell are you doing here?” Alex asked.

“Did you call the police?” Francine asked.

“Shut up!” Alex said.

“Yeah, Francine, quit trying to get yourself killed,” Chastity said, moving closer. “Mr. Brooks. Alex. What are you doing? You're a cop, for God's sake.”

“You stay out of this,” Alex said, stepping to the side so he could more easily see both women.

Chastity stepped very slowly to the wall and toward the couch. Soon she was beside the end of the couch. If Alex faced the sofa squarely, he would have been facing Francine, with Amy on the couch to his left and Chastity on
his right. But he was turned slightly, so that Amy was out of his line of sight. Chastity didn't think this was an accident.

“Think what this is all about,” Chastity said.

“This is about a bitch who doesn't deserve to live,” Alex said, waving the gun from Chastity's chest to Francine's. “No man should be betrayed this way. Lied to. Accused.”

“Agreed,” Chastity said. “But this is really about her.” She pointed past Francine to Amy.

“Amy loves me,” Alex's voice was cold, as if quoting a scripture. Chastity could see his heart pounding in his chest, and perspiration appeared on his forehead.

“Like hell she does,” Francine said.

Chastity saw Alex's finger tense on the trigger. “Ignore her,” Chastity said. “The worst thing she could do to you was to take your little girl away. But if you kill her, you'll spend the rest of your life in a cell and you'll lose Amy forever. That way, she wins anyway.”

“Daddy, please don't,” Amy said in a small voice. “I won't go anywhere ever. I promise I won't go away. I'll stay with you.”

Chastity was not much more than an arm's length from Alex's right hand. She took a small step forward. He took a long step back, the pistol aimed at a point in space between the two women. Francine looked from Amy's tear-stained face to her husband's. Her jaw set in a weird caricature of determination. “You won't take my daughter from me, you worthless faggot. You ain't got the balls.”

Alex turned to face Francine, his right arm fully extended, the muzzle of his pistol focused on her heart. Francine backed into the sofa, as if for the first time she believed he could fire. He had been working himself up for this, Chastity thought, and now at last he was ready to end his torture by taking her out of his life.

Chastity couldn't reach him fast enough to stop the shot.

She couldn't get Francine out of the way.

She saw only one option.

“You going to fry in the chair for this bitch?” Chastity asked, stepping toward Francine. “Is she worth throwing your life away for? You just want her to hurt, right? Like you hurt. Suffer like you've suffered. Well, me too.”

Chastity's right cross caught Francine on the side of her jaw. The dull smack resounded in the room, and Francine's body jerked to the side. She landed splayed across Amy's lap, unconscious. Chastity counted on Alex's startle reflex to hold him still for two-tenths of a second, but there was no pause in her motion. As her fist was bouncing off Francine's jaw, her left hand whipped around to wrap around Alex's weapon. Her fingers curled over the slide and her thumb slid into the tiny space behind the trigger. She twisted her wrist, locking Alex's arm straight out. Another small twist locked his wrist back as far as it would go. The stiffened fingers of her right hand stabbed into his solar plexus. He grunted, and she yanked the gun away from his hand.

Stunned, Alex crumpled to his knees like a too tall marionette whose strings had been cut. His hands rested on his thighs, palms up. His jaw hung slack and his eyes were glassy. Chastity could only guess at the emotions running through him right then. Grief? Rage? Certainly self-doubt and confusion. All she knew was that she had to tune out the unconscious wife and the loudly crying daughter and find a way to reach this man right then before he drifted too far away into his own little universe of horror.

Looking far more confident than she felt, she stepped in front of Alex Brooks, literally getting between him and his wife. With him kneeling, Chastity looked down at his face, but not by much. She grabbed his shirt in both hands and pulled him toward her a few inches.

“You have had a very bad day,” Chastity said, “but you can't just crumble now. You need to forget all that's happened to you in the last couple of days. Forget who you are, and remember what you are.”

Alex looked up into her almond eyes. “What I am.”

“You're a cop,” she said with conviction. “A police officer. You're the person other people count on when they can't take care of themselves. People need you. And there are only two things in the world you need to be able to do. You know what they are?”

Alex Brooks took a deep, trembling breath while his eyes moved as if he were searching for something inside himself. After a couple of seconds, he seemed to have found it. When he spoke, he sounded like a different man.

“Yes,” he said. “To protect and to serve.”

Samuel “Stone” Mason turned the knob and pushed with his fingers, letting the door to Irv Jerome's office swing open. The squeak of the hinges was dramatic, but not very loud at all. He didn't know what would greet him, and neither did Dubois. That was why he was chosen to open the door. He wasn't altogether pleased with his nomination for this job.

The sight that greeted Mason was almost what he had wished for. Irv Jerome sat at the reception desk, pen in hand, dealing with some sort of paperwork. The main room lights were off, but a lamp on the reception desk spread a cone of light over Jerome and his work. His sleeves were rolled halfway up his forearms. A fast food hamburger sat on its wrapper at Jerome's left elbow. When he looked up his face betrayed no fear, only irritation at the unexpected interruption.

“You again? What the hell do you want now?”

Mason walked toward the desk, pulling off his gloves. “I was just wondering if your three stooges were around, so we could chat.”

“Well, as a matter of fact.” Jerome snapped his fingers and Doc stepped forward out of Jerome's inner office. Frankie and Psycho followed. “Since your last visit I decided they should hang around.”

“Hey guys,” Stone said with a dim smile. “Nice sling, Frankie. Is it in a cast under there?”

“I can kick your ass with just my right arm,” Frankie said, raising his good fist as if in demonstration.”

“Maybe,” Steele said, stepping through the door with his gun drawn and aimed at Jerome, “but we won't be finding out today. You boys need to go on back in that back room, before I blow your meal ticket away.”

Jerome kept his eyes on Steele but spoke to his own men. “Don't let him bluff you, boys. This guy's no killer, and the other one's empty-handed. If you all draw at once, there's no way he can get you all.”

The three bodyguards hesitated. Steele stepped farther to the side of the room, his boot heels clicking on the floor, until he had a long view that would allow him to shift very quickly from Jerome to any of the others. In the meantime, Stone noticed Jerome's right arm moving, as if he was opening a low drawer.

“You don't want to do anything stupid, counselor,” Stone said. “Steele's pretty calm but my other friends have been known to get a bit out of control.”

On cue, Didi walked in to stand behind Stone. His gun, held one-handed, was thrust toward Doc's head. Andre and the two others followed. Four guns were aimed at Jerome's three thugs, all held at arm's length and all turned sideways for reasons that escaped Stone. The Haitians beamed malice from their faces. Once they were in place, Dubois entered with an imperial swagger, swinging the door shut behind him. He wore black leather boots and gloves, and a long black leather coat that flowed like a cape when he walked.