Edge of the Heat 3 (22 page)

Jerry parked the ambulance a few feet behind the man’s car and Emma grabbed for the door handle.

“Wait.” Jerry’s hand shot out and grabbed her arm. “This feels wrong.”

He grabbed the radio and told dispatch they had arrived on scene, then asked if the reporting party gave a name or shared circumstances.

“Negative. He just said he needed an ambulance for a sprained ankle and hung up.”

Emma watched Jerry then looked back at the man, her own sense of danger starting to ping.

He handed her the radio. “Tell em we want a cop here. I’m going to back up.”

Emma opened her mouth and depressed the radio button, but as soon as Jerry put the ambulance in reverse and stepped lightly on the gas, the man was up and moving.

Two loud cracks split the air and the windshield of the ambulance cracked in a million spiderwebs. Jerry made a gut-wrenching, gagging yell and pitched forward. Emma screamed, seeing blood fly and cover the driver’s side window.

“Jerry! Jerry!” She tried to push Jerry backwards but already her door was yanked open and Norman was there. Emma still had the radio in her hand. She depressed the button and shouted for help, even as Norman was ripping her out of the seat. “Central send cops! Jerry shot!”

She screamed again and held on to the radio cord as Norman pulled her down the sidewalk towards his car. The cord went taut, and snapped. She found her feet and tried to pull away from Norman.

“Not this time bitch.”

He hit her across the temple with the butt of his gun. The pain was instant, infinite, and huge. She fell to her knees, her hands pressed to her face. Norman kept dragging her and shoved her into the passenger seat of his car. She wanted to fight, tried to fight, but the pain in her head was all-encompassing. Her stomach revolted, threatening to spill its contents.

Another gunshot rang out and the car listed to the driver's side, like a tire had popped. She looked up at Norman but he was as startled as she was.
Jerry. Was he shooting? Was he alive?
Her head throbbed again and she fell forward, dry-heaving.

Norman fumbled with her hand, holding it over her head, and she heard metal scraping against metal. He slammed the door and ran around to the other side. She heard two more gunshots, one of them shattering the driver's side window next to Norman. Then Norman jumped in the car and slammed it in reverse. As he backed up, Emma knew he meant to run Jerry over.

“No!” she screamed and wrenched the wheel to the right. They were both thrown backwards as the car slammed into the ambulance. Norman turned to her, murder written clearly on his face. The gun butt raised and fell again.

And all she knew was blackness.

***

S
he came to slowly, not sure where she was. Then she remembered. “Jerry!” she screamed, her eyes flying open. Only one eye opened though. The other was crusted shut with blood and swelling. Her head pounded. She whipped around, looking. Norman was driving, calmly, even though one of his tires was flat. She could hear it thumping on the blacktop. She was in the passenger seat, with her right hand handcuffed to the overhead handle that some cars have so you can hold on while getting in and out. Or was it so you could hold on when a crazy driver was taking turns too fast? Emma shook her head. Crazy thoughts at a time like this.

Norman looked different, so different. The beard obscuring most of his face. But still she could tell he was painfully thin. And white. He looked like he had no circulating blood in his body at all. Then she saw it. The spray of blood on his door. And his driver’s side window was shot completely out. His left hand sat uselessly in his lap, blood dripping slowly down it from his shoulder.

“Norman, you are losing a lot of blood. You should let me look at it,” she croaked.
Water. I could use some water. And a gun. Craig was right. Craig was right. Craig was right.

Norman ignored her. She hoped he could still hear. She looked around at their surroundings. They were close to the harbor. So they’d been driving for 10 minutes or so. She couldn’t believe that no cop had seen him driving on his flat tire yet and pulled him over.

Even as she thought it, she heard sirens in the distance. Coming for them? Looking for this car? Was Jerry alive to give them the description?

Norman heard it too and checked his rear-view mirror. Emma wanted to look but her head hurt too badly.

“Just gotta get out of the city,” Norman muttered to himself.

Westwood Harbor Bridge, the only way across the bay to the cities on the other side, loomed large before them. Emma felt in her pocket with the hand that wasn’t handcuffed for her phone. She didn’t feel it. Had it fallen out? Did she dare even try to use it? She didn’t want to get hit in the head again. But she had to try something. He probably had much worse plans for her once he got wherever he was going.

Norman turned onto the bridge and the sirens got louder. He checked his mirrors again and swore.  This time Emma had to look. Police cars coming up fast behind them.
Oh thank God
.

Norman punched the gas and shot between two cars, switching lanes. Emma pulled her seatbelt on quickly with her free hand, her head jerking around with the movement and causing bright pain to flash behind her eyes.

Ahead of them, a semi trailer hit his brakes and started slowing, trying to fall back in line with another semi, which would effectively block Norman from getting anywhere. If they were listening to the scanner and heard the pursuit in progress, they could be doing this on purpose. Emma had heard of it happening before. Norman swore again, and jerked the car to the left, trying to ease past the semi on the shoulder. But there was no shoulder. This was the bridge. Norman must have thought he could make it though. He slammed the gas again and tried to shoot through the narrow gap between bridge and truck. Metal and metal.

Emma screamed, knowing they were about to be sandwiched. Blood pounded in her head, terror muting the pain.

The car clipped an abutment and shot up on its side, then flew through the air and over the boundary of the bridge.

The air bags all popped in the car, and Emma slammed forward and to the side into hers. Norman wasn’t wearing a seatbelt, and although he hit his airbags, he also shot up and hit the roof of the car with his head. Emma heard the crunch, but didn’t know what it was at first.

The car hit the water with a horrible splash and heart-stopping wrench. The airbags were all dead and limp now, but Emma’s seatbelt held her in place. Norman hit the front windshield, then rolled onto Emma as the car lurched sickeningly to the passenger side.

Emma shrieked and pulled at the handcuffs and the handle she was tethered to with all her might.
Drown. Gonna drown,
beat through her sore head. Norman’s dead weight pressed her against her door. He lay still, unconscious, his left arm caked with blood, and more blood leaking from his ear.

She felt the complete hopelessness of the situation. She watched for the water to enter the car, knowing it meant her death. She felt it first, around her ankles. Then it came quickly, almost up to her knees. It was icy and smelled like mortality to her.

No babe, don’t give up. You fight!
Craig’s voice rang through her head. She felt her own tears on her cheeks and heard a strange, keening noise coming from her mouth. She looked up at the handcuffs and yanked again. If she could pull her hand free and get Norman off her she could escape through his window. She pulled, hard, but it wouldn’t budge. The water was up to her waist now, and the car was sinking faster.

Norman floated in his mind. There was something he wanted to do, had wanted to do for a long time, but it didn't seem quite so important right now. He felt good, at peace. He had an idea that he hadn't felt at peace in a long time, but he couldn't quite grasp why that would be. He heard someone call to him. Emma. It was Emma. Sweet and lovely Emma. He'd never been the husband that she deserved. He knew that now. But Emma didn't hold it against him. He could tell by her voice. He tried to tell her that he had to go. That he wanted to go. That she wasn't going to see him again. He felt sorry that he wouldn't see her again, sorry that he wouldn't see anyone again. But he had somewhere more important to be. Someone to apologize to. Someone to make things right with. But Emma was insistent.

Emma watched the rising water and screamed again, unable to help herself.

“Norman!” She cried, tears in her voice, her very sanity threatening to split. “Help me!”

The icy water or her cry seemed to rouse him. He raised his head and looked around. She watched as the water rose to his neck. He gazed at her, eternity in his eyes. Then something broke behind them. She didn’t know what. Just that it was big.

Frantic now, knowing Norman was getting exactly what he wanted, she pulled with every ounce of strength she had in her one arm and felt something in her back give way. Then Norman was reaching up with her. He grabbed the handle itself and heaved. She could see the muscles of his forearm strain and stand out.

The handle gave way with a pop. And water covered their faces. Emma held her breath, but the window was so far away, and Norman was still on top of her, dead weight. She could see him through the water, shimmery, blurry. He gave her a sad smile, and lifted his body off of hers, then pulled and pushed her towards the light. She grabbed the steering wheel and shot her body out of the window, handcuffs and handle trailing. She looked back, and Norman lay still in the car. She watched him go down, down, without a breath of protest.

Emma swam with all her might towards the surface, fighting the suction from the car. The suction held her powerfully, then gave her up, and she shot towards the surface on a large bubble of air that floated up from the car.

Her head broke the water’s edge and she sucked in great lungfuls of oxygen.

He had helped her. In the end, he had helped her.

She swam towards shore.

“H
ow’s Jerry?” Vivian asked Emma, as she and Craig sat in their chairs at the restaurant.

Emma and Craig had just come from the hospital, where Jerry had been for 3 days, since Norman had shot him and tried to crush him between the ambulance and his car.

“He’s great. The bullet in his shoulder was a through and through, and didn’t hit anything vital. His leg is worse off but the doctors say surgery went well and he shouldn’t even have a limp after a year of physical therapy.”

“A year?” Vivian hissed, astonishment on her face.

Emma hung her head. For everything she had to be happy about, she had something to feel sad and guilty about too. “I know,” she said, her voice glum.

“Will he be able to go back to work?”

“Not for a while. It happened at work though so the department will be paying him till he can. He says he’s going to Vegas to meet some ladies.” Emma smiled and Vivian laughed at that.

Emma glanced at Craig. He was talking intently to Hawk, both of them pulled back from the table a bit.

Vivian leaned forward. “How are you, Sis?” she asked, concern on her face.

Emma sighed. “I don’t know really. I probably should go see Dr. Anderson again. She helped me so much after the first
incident
with Norman.”

“Yeah, you should. Are you having bad dreams?”

“Not so far. But I feel different. Heavier. Like I’m still carrying Norman around in my mind.”

Emma’s eye was still black and blue, although much of the swelling had gone down. She’d spent another night in the hospital too, thanks to a concussion Norman gave her.

“Maybe you should think about postponing the wedding.”

“No!” Emma had set a wedding date the first night after Norman’s death. As soon as she’d gotten the word from Craig that Norman was actually dead, and his body had been pulled from the car, she’d made up her mind. She wanted to be married in three months time, before fall came. Craig had agreed, happily. He’d said he would marry her tomorrow if that’s what she wanted.

“I mean, I can’t imagine anything right now that would make me happier than the wedding. It’s my light right now. I want so much to get married, and this can be the big reunion that all of our new family members come into town for. I just can’t wait.”

Vivian nodded. “Ok, it was just a thought. When are we going to pick out your dress?”

“Next week, I have an appointment. Tuesday at 10.” She touched her hand to her eye. “Hopefully this is faded by then.”

Emma heard the name
Frabrazio
drift their way. Craig had said it.

“What, was he caught yet?”

Craig nodded. He and Hawk moved in to the table. “They caught him in LA on a traffic stop. He’s at the Federal detention center down there on charges that have nothing to do with our case. But we’ll add what we can to the pile.”

Emma nodded. “So now that Norman is dead, and the Senator is dead, and that guy is being detained, there’s no danger to me anymore, right?”

Hawk nodded. “Frabrazio’s not a danger to you anyway. He was just doing more dirty work for Oberlin and probably never even heard your name.”

Emma smiled thinly. “Ok good. I hope this doesn’t offend you guys, but I don’t want to hear anymore about the investigation for now, OK? I’ve had enough of the whole mess for a long time.”

Craig put his arm around her. “Sure babe. Sorry.” He kissed her temple gently and clung to her.

Vivian stood up. “Sorry guys, but I have to go. I wanted to stay for lunch but Lionel just messaged me and said Irina is waking up. I really want to be there.”

She ran around the table and hugged Emma, then Craig, then stopped at Hawk and sat on his lap. “I’ll see you tonight,” she whispered in his ear then gave him a kiss passionate enough to make Emma squirm and Craig look away.
Those two are something else
, Emma thought. Then Vivian hurried out of the restaurant without looking back.

“Lionel?” Emma asked Hawk.

“You know, the hacker guy. Vivian met him the night I sent her out to the safe house. She didn’t know who he was and started talking to him. She said she wanted to talk to him because he looked so sad, like a lost puppy. Turns out his baby sister is in the hospital with leukemia. That’s why he did those jobs for Foster. He needed a lot of money fast, because she wasn’t responding to treatment. He was afraid she was going to die and he wanted to try some experimental treatment options. Some of the things he tried helped, but then he ran out of money. Vivian’s paying for it now. In fact, she met Irina the same night you were in the hospital for the concussion. Says she’s a sweet girl.”