Fallen (47 page)

“Oh, I’m gonna hurt you soon enough, sister girl. I’m gonna hurt you real bad.” He held up his arms as if he was on stage. “That’s what this is all about, yo. I’m gonna show your precious baby boy what it’s
like to grow up without his mama.” He kept the gun on Faith. “You were good yesterday running after him in the street. A little closer and I’d’a had him dead on the ground.”

Vomit came into her mouth.

He pushed Evelyn with his sneaker. “Ask her why she gave me up.”

Faith didn’t trust her mouth to open.

“Ask her why she gave me up,” Caleb repeated. He raised his foot, ready to kick her mother’s shattered leg.

“Okay!” Faith yelled. “Why did you give him up?”

Caleb said, “Why did you give him up,
Mom
?”

“Why did you give him up, Mom?”

Evelyn didn’t move. Her eyes were closed. Just as the panic started to well up inside Faith, her mother’s mouth opened. “I didn’t have a choice.”

“Yo, ain’t that what you’ve been saying to me for the last year, Mom? Everybody’s got choices?”

“It was a different time.” Her good eye opened. The lashes stuck together. She stared at Faith. “I’m so sorry, baby.”

Faith shook her head. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

“Ain’t this nice. A little mother-daughter reunion here.” He shoved the chair so hard against the wall that the back leg broke. “She was ashamed of me, that’s why.” He paced over to the bookcase and back. “She couldn’t explain some little brown baby squirting outta her. Not like you, right? Different times.” He started pacing again. “And you think your daddy was so good growing up. Tell her what he said, Mom. Tell her what he made you do.”

Evelyn lay on her side, eyes closed, arms out in front of her. The shallow in-and-out of her chest was the only thing that indicated she was still alive.

“Your good ol’ daddy told her it was me or him. What do you think about that? Mr. Galveston Insurance Agent of the Year for six years running and he told your mama that she couldn’t keep her baby boy, because if she did, she’d never see her other kids again.”

Faith struggled not to show that he’d finally managed to hit the mark. She had adored her father, worshipped him like only a spoiled daddy’s girl can, but as an adult, she could easily see Bill Mitchell giving her mother this ultimatum.

Caleb had moved back to his original spot near the bookcase. The gun was down at his side, but she knew he could swing it up at any moment. His back was to the sliding glass doors. Evelyn was to his left. Faith was at a diagonal, about twelve feet away from him and waiting for all hell to break loose.

She prayed Will had understood her message. The room was a clock. Faith was at eighteen hundred, or six o’clock. Evelyn was at fifteen hundred, three o’clock. Caleb was swinging back and forth between ten and twelve.

Faith had offered at least twenty times over the last month to take Will’s cell phone off military time. He kept refusing because he was stubborn and full of an odd mixture of shame and pride where his disability was concerned. He was also watching her through the bathroom window right now. He had told her to give him a sign. She ran her fingers through her hair, pulling her thumb and index finger into an okay sign.

Faith looked down at her mother lying on the floor. Evelyn was staring at her with her one good eye. Had she seen Faith give Will the signal? Was she capable of understanding what was going to happen? Her breaths were labored. Her lips were blistered. She had obviously been choked. Dark bruises circled her neck. There was a cut on the side of her head. Blood seeped from an angry gash in her cheek. Faith felt a rush of love wash through her, straight to where her mother lay. It was like a light shining out from her body. How many times had Faith gone to this woman for help? How many times had she cried on her shoulder?

So many times that Faith had lost count.

Evelyn raised her hand. Her fingers trembled. She covered her face. Faith turned around. A blinding bright light came through the
front windows. It pierced the flimsy blinds, shining a spotlight inside the house.

Faith ducked down. Maybe muscle memory recalled some training exercise from years past. Maybe it was human nature to make yourself as small as possible when you sensed something bad was about to happen.

Nothing happened in the immediate. Seconds went by. Faith found herself counting, “… two … three … four …”

She looked up at Caleb.

Glass shattered. He jerked as if someone had punched him in the shoulder. His expression was a mixture of shock and pain. Faith pushed herself off the floor. She lunged toward Caleb. He pointed the gun at her face. She looked straight into the threaded muzzle, the dark eye of the snubbed barrel, staring back. Rage took hold, burning inside of her, urging her forward. She wanted to kill this man. She wanted to rip open his throat with her teeth. She wanted to cut his heart out of his chest. She wanted to watch the pain in his eyes as she did everything to him that he had done to her mother, her family, their lives.

But she would never get the chance.

The side of Caleb’s head exploded. His arms jerked up. Bullets fired from the Tec-9 brought down a rain of white chalk from the ceiling. Muscle memory. Two pops, close together, one after the other.

Slowly, he collapsed to the ground. The only thing Faith could hear was the sound of his body slamming into the floor. First his hip, then his shoulder, then his head popping against the hard wood. His eyes stayed open. Dark blue. So familiar. So lifeless.

So long
.

Faith looked at her mother. Evelyn had managed to prop herself up against the wall. She still held the Glock in her right hand. The muzzle started to tilt down. The weight was too much. She dropped her arm. The gun clattered to the floor.

“Mama …” Faith could barely stand. She half walked, half crawled
to her mother. She didn’t know where to touch her, which part of her body wasn’t bruised or broken.

“Come here,” Evelyn whispered. She pulled Faith into her arms. She stroked her back. Faith couldn’t help it. She started to weep like a child. “It’s all right, baby.” Evelyn pressed her lips to the top of Faith’s head. “Everything’s going to be all right.”

W
ILL TUCKED HIS HANDS INTO HIS POCKETS AS HE WALKED
down the hallway to Evelyn Mitchell’s hospital room. He was almost giddy with exhaustion. His vision was so sharp that the world was his Blu-ray. There was a high-pitched whine in his ear. He could feel every pore in his skin. This was why he never drank coffee. Will felt wired enough to power a small city. He had spent the last three nights with Sara. His feet barely touched the ground.

He stopped outside Evelyn’s room, wondering if he should’ve brought flowers. Will had cash in his wallet. He turned around, heading back toward the elevators. He could at least get her a balloon from the gift shop. Everybody liked balloons.

“Hey.” Faith pushed open her mother’s door. “Where are you going?”

“Does your mom like balloons?”

“I’m sure she did when she was seven.”

Will smiled. The last time he’d seen Faith, she was crying in her mother’s arms. She looked a little better now, but not by much. “How’s she doing?”

“Okay. Last night was slightly better than the one before, but the pain is still bad.”

Will could only imagine. Evelyn had been rushed to Grady with a full police escort. She’d been in surgery over sixteen hours. They’d put enough metal in her leg to fill a deluxe erector set.

He asked, “What about you?”

“It’s a lot to take in.” Faith shook her head, as if she still couldn’t
make sense of it. “I always wanted another brother, but that was only because I thought he might beat up Zeke.”

“Seems like you can take care of yourself.”

“It’s a lot more work than you’d think.” She leaned her shoulder against the wall. “It must’ve been so hard for her. What she went through. I can’t imagine giving up one of my children. I’d just as soon rip out my heart.”

Will looked over her shoulder at the empty hallway.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking about—”

“It’s okay,” he told her. “You know, a surprising number of orphans end up in the penal system.” He gave her some of the better examples. “Albert DeSalvo. Ted Bundy. Joel Rifkin. Son of Sam.”

“I think Aileen Wuornos was given up by her parents, too.”

“I’ll let the others know. It’s good to have a woman on the list.”

She laughed, but obviously her heart wasn’t into it. Will looked over her shoulder again. There was a large nurse with a bouquet of flowers walking down the hall.

Faith said, “I was sure that we weren’t going to make it out of that house.”

There was something in her voice that told him she still wasn’t past what had happened to her family. Maybe she never would be. Some things never left you, no matter how hard you tried.

Will said, “We should really get better codes in case this happens again.”

“I was terrified you wouldn’t understand. Thank God we had all those arguments about changing your phone off military time.”

“Actually, I didn’t understand.” He grinned at her shocked expression. Will had kept his cell on speakerphone while he talked to Faith. Roz Levy had rendered her opinion as soon as the call ended, telling them the room was a clock and that she’d be more than happy to run over there with her Python and take out the punk standing at noon.

Will told Faith, “I’d like to think that I would’ve figured it out eventually.”

“You realize that a blood sugar of eighteen hundred would probably mean I was either dead or in an irreversible coma?”

“Sure, I knew that.”

“Jesus Christ,” she whispered. “So much for our well-oiled machine.”

He felt the need to tell her, “The helicopter was all me. The infrared camera told us where you were, confirmed that his partner was dead.” She didn’t seem impressed, so Will added, “And the lights were my idea.” They’d lined up two squad cars and blasted their xenon lights at the front windows. Caleb’s shadow against the curtains had given them something to aim for.

“Well, thanks anyway for shooting him.” She could obviously read his expression. “Oh, Will, it wasn’t you?”

He let out a long breath. “Amanda promised me she’d give me one of my testicles back if I let her take the shot.”

“I hope you got that in writing. She didn’t exactly hit a bull’s-eye.”

“She blames my rifle. Something about me being left-handed.”

The grip was universal, but Faith didn’t argue. “Well, I’m glad you were there. It made me feel safer.”

He smiled, though he was fairly certain all of this could’ve happened without his presence. Amanda was resourceful, and Will had basically hidden behind a wall while Faith risked her life.

She said, “I’m glad you’re with Sara.”

He fought the silly grin that wanted to come. “I’m just hanging in there until she decides she can do better.”

“I wish I thought you were joking.”

So did Will. He didn’t understand Sara. He didn’t know what made her tick or why she was with him. And yet, she was. And not just that—she seemed to be happy about it. Sara had been smiling so much this morning that she could barely purse her lips to kiss him goodbye. Will had thought maybe some toilet paper was stuck to his face where he’d cut himself shaving, but she’d told him that she was smiling because he made her happy.

He didn’t know what to do with that. It didn’t make sense.

Faith knew how to stop the grin on his face. “What about Angie?”

He shrugged, as if Angie hadn’t left so many messages on his home and cell phone that both voicemail boxes had run out of space. Each message got nastier and nastier. Each threat more severe. Will had listened to every message. He couldn’t help himself. He could still see Angie with that gun in her mouth. He could still feel his heart rattle at the thought of pushing open his bathroom door and finding her bleeding out in his bathtub.

Thankfully, Faith didn’t dwell for long on the negative. “Have you told Sara you’re terrified of chimpanzees?”

“It hasn’t really come up.”

“It will eventually. That’s what happens in relationships. Everything comes up whether you like it or not.”

Will nodded, hoping his quick acquiescence would shut her up. He wasn’t that lucky.

“Look.” She put on her mom voice, the one she used when he wasn’t standing up straight or wore the wrong tie. “The only way you’re going to screw this up is if you keep worrying about screwing it up.”

Will would rather be stuck in Mrs. Levy’s trunk again than have this conversation. “It’s Betty I’m worried about.”

“Really.”

“She’s become quite attached.” That much was true. The dog had refused to leave Sara’s apartment this morning.

“Just promise me that you’ll wait at least a month before you tell her that you’re in love with her.”

He let out a stream of breath, longing for the isolation of the Corvair. “Did you know that Bayer used to own the trademark for heroin?”

She shook her head at the subterfuge. “The aspirin company?”