Snake Skin (46 page)

He froze, lowering his weapon to his side.
"Drop the gun, Ashley. I don’t want to hurt you."

"No." A frown twisted her features, making
her look younger, a baby really. "I don't—I can't."

"Yes," Guardino said in a low, calm voice. A
voice only a mother could produce, soothing and commanding
simultaneously. "Yes, you can. Ashley, a lot of people have lied to
you, have tried to trick you, but I'm telling you the truth. You
need to trust me, Ashley. Can you do that? Trust me?"

Ashley slowly turned, locking eyes with
Guardino. Guardino nodded slowly and Ashley mirrored the movement.
"Good girl. Now Ashley, you need to put down the gun and go with
Detective Burroughs."

"But—no. He, what he did…" Her voice died
away, but her intent was clear as she aimed the gun at
Fletcher.

"I know what he did. I was there, in the
barn. I saw the snakes, smelled the stench. I was there,
Ashley."

"You were?" The gun didn't waver.

Burroughs shuffled forward, stopping when
Guardino gave him a small shake of her head.

"I was. I wish I had gotten there sooner, I
would have saved you."

"That's what he said he did. He lied."

"He did. And he's going to pay for that. But
you have to trust me, Ashley. Leave it to me. You were a very brave
girl, there alone in the dark with those snakes. Very, very brave.
I need you to be brave for just a few more minutes. Do you trust
me, Ashley?"

Guardino's hypnotic tone could have charmed
a cobra into tying itself into a knot. Burroughs felt his own head
nod in time with Ashley's.

"I trust you." The words were halting, but
finally Ashley's aim wavered.

"Good. Now. Put the gun on the floor and let
Detective Burroughs get you out of here. Close the door behind you.
On the count of three. Are you ready?"

Guardino's grip was weakening. Fletcher took
a breath, color returning to his face. He immediately began to
attack the hand that Guardino held over the deadman's switch.

"One, two, three," she shouted in a rush
just as Fletcher was about to claw his way free of her grasp.

"No, Ashley," Fletcher screamed. "I love
you! Don't go!"

The gun clattered to the ground just as
Burroughs grabbed Ashley and hauled her back through the steel
door.

As soon as Lucy saw Burroughs get Ashley to
safety, she stopped fighting. An eerie sense of calm came over her,
time moving in slow motion as if the world around her had become a
movie and she was predestined to act out her role.

"No!" Fletcher cried as Ashley disappeared.
He whirled on Lucy. "You did this! It's all your fault!"

Lucy didn't answer. Instead she launched her
free hand up to grab his chin, yanking his head around to face the
refrigerator. Pivoting her weight, she propelled him into the
opening, releasing the hand with the deadman's switch at the last
possible moment.

His momentum carried her inside with him.
The door began to swing shut. She gave Fletcher one last shove to
send him reeling against the far wall. She escaped out through the
heavy door just as it clanked closed.

She started to run, thought she was running,
but instead found herself flying through the air, arms and legs
flailing as the building rocked with the blast.

She landed in a heap against the far wall.
The lights flickered—or her vision did. Then everything was bright
and sparkly as dust flit through the air.

Lucy hacked and coughed, threatening to tear
her stitches. Finally she got enough strength to look up. The
refrigerator door was slightly ajar, hanging crooked, weird
reddish-brown smoke wisping through the opening. A few of the
overhead fluorescent bulbs had shattered. Tiles had been knocked
from the walls, giving them a crazy checkerboard appearance.

The door beside her slammed open and Nick
appeared, followed by Ashley and Megan. To her surprise it was
Ashley who reached her first, flinging herself at Lucy and
clutching her as if she'd never let go.

Then Megan and Nick followed until her
vision was blinded by their warm and wonderfully whole bodies.

"C'mon, Burroughs," Cindy said, grinding her
hip against his after the medics cleared him, "I'll make you a
star."

Burroughs looked at her with contempt and
limped away. He joined Guardino and her family at the far end of
the lab. Ashley had collapsed, refusing to leave Guardino's side,
so the docs had sedated her and taken her back upstairs. Guardino
looked like the walking wounded left at the end of a war
movie—blood smearing her face and shirt, one arm out of commission,
leaning heavily against her husband.

"Don't you ever do anything like that
again," Callahan was saying, his arms wrapped around both his
daughter and wife. "Promise."

In response, Guardino kissed him. It was a
fairly tame kiss, no tongue or anything, but it packed enough power
to make Burroughs' stomach clench. When they parted, both
Callahan's and Guardino's faces were streaked with tears. Neither
seemed to care.

Guardino's eyes were wide with the
after-effects of adrenalin, her cheeks flushed, giving her a
radiant glow. She smiled, her gaze never leaving Callahan's, her
body aligned with his as if they were one.

"You don't have to worry about me," she told
Callahan, one finger smoothing his tears.

"Yeah, Dad," Megan chimed in. "Mom was
totally the coolest, most awesome, kick ass—"

"Megan Constance Callahan," Guardino
interrupted, "watch your language."

Megan clapped her hand against her mouth,
obviously also jazzed with adrenalin. "I can't wait to tell the
kids at school," she said, pride shining in her eyes.

Burroughs had to turn away. His eyes burned,
he swiped them with his thumb, telling himself it was the smoke
that made them water. But he couldn't help but wonder if maybe the
reason he'd fallen so hard for Guardino had nothing to do with lust
or hormones or a midlife crisis.

Maybe she had everything he wanted.
Everything he needed. The way her husband and kid looked at
her….

She finally noticed him standing behind
Callahan and aimed a smile in his direction. "Have you two met?"
she asked, indicating Callahan. "Nick, this is Don Burroughs, he's
a detective with the Major Crimes squad."

"Nice to meet you," Callahan said, extending
a hand. They shook with a firm grip.

"Just wanted to make sure you were good to
go," Burroughs mumbled, wishing he could hide the flush he felt on
his face. "Before I leave."

He walked away, yanking his cell phone out
and hitting the speed dial. "Kim? Yeah, sorry, I know it's late.
Listen, can I come over, spend some time with the boys later today?
I really need to see them."

Chapter 42

Monday, 12:11 pm

Lucy woke feeling seasick, the bed bouncing
as if riding over waves. Was she on a boat? She hated boats. Why on
earth would she be sleeping on a boat?

The bed jostled more as a girl's gleeful
laughter swam through her consciousness. Megan.

Lucy forced her eyes open. The left would
only go to a slit and the right she immediately closed again as
bright sunlight stabbed through it. But it had been long enough for
her to see Megan perched on the edge of the bed, bouncing eagerly
as she and Nick fought abominable ice men.

"Hah! Take that." Megan's voice was strong,
brimming with enthusiasm and the sound of it brought tears to
Lucy's eyes. Good tears. Happy tears. "No way are we going to be
zombie meat!"

"Inside voice, please. You're going to wake
your mother."

"Nah, she's already awake. She's just
resting."

Lucy couldn't stop her smile. She lurched
upright, stretching her good arm out in a fair imitation of a
mutant zombie and grabbed Megan.

She squeezed Megan, kissed her on the top of
the head and released her, slumping back just as Nick elevated the
head of the bed to support her. Ouch. Sitting up that fast had
unleashed a headache and several wicked aches and pains, but it was
worth it to see Megan's bright smile. Such contrast to the scared
and worried look she had had last night when they pulled Lucy from
the debris.

"Mom, you look like the bride of
Frankenstein!"

"Guess that makes you Frankenstein's
daughter, heheheh." She mussed up Megan's hair, standing it on
end.

"Mom," came the familiar two-syllable
whine.

Nick cleared his throat. "Why don't you
reset the game while I help your mom get cleaned up?"

"I'd love to have a shower."

"You're not allowed," Megan told her in a
stern voice. "They said only sponge baths. Until your stitches are
out."

Nick lowered the bedrail and helped Lucy
maneuver her stiff and aching body out of bed. "That's where I come
in," he said with a lecherous grin, wagging one eyebrow. He pulled
her to her feet. A wave of dizziness washed over her but Nick held
her steady. Before letting her go, he kissed her thoroughly. "Good
morning, Lulu."

"It's afternoon, you know," Megan put
in.

When Nick ignored her and gave Lucy a loud
smooch, Megan giggled. That sound, so innocent and free, one that
Lucy hadn't heard in months, was enough to erase all her pain.

Nick pulled away far enough to guide Lucy
into the bathroom, one hand on the small of her back.

Lucy propped herself against the counter top
while Nick carefully combed no-rinse shampoo through her tangled
hair, taking the opportunity to nuzzle her neck. She had some fresh
staples in her scalp, thanks to one of the ER docs, a black eye
almost swollen shut, a broken collarbone, assorted scrapes and
bruises, and a mild concussion to add to her litany of
injuries.

Which basically meant she was alive and had
no right to complain—not with Melissa Yeager lying dead in the
county morgue.

"Any word on Ashley?"

"They stopped the sedation, but she's
uncommunicative. Not quite catatonic, but also not responding to
much of anything. She tried to cut herself so they had to restrain
her."

Lucy sighed. Ashley had been through so much
already.

"It's going to take time." Nick finished
with her hair and began to help her out of her clothing, handing
her a towel so she wouldn't get a chill. She loved the gentle way
his touch soothed her pain, hands gliding over her skin as he
washed her as if she were a newborn. It felt good to have someone
she trusted so implicitly that she could relinquish all control to
him.

"What's going to happen to her?"

He paused, holding a dripping washcloth over
the sink. "Depends. Right now she's lost. What her parents started,
Fletcher finished—they stripped her of her identity."

"Maybe I should call Taylor, tell him to
hold off—" Lucy was surprised by how easily she grabbed onto any
excuse not to face Ashley. It was as if she couldn't admit that
she'd failed the girl, hadn't really saved her after all.

"No. I had a long talk with her doctors and
father. They agree that it can't hurt and it might help."

"What did the doctors say about Megan's
tests?" The way Megan's color and energy had returned, she figured
it was just a formality. The doctors had to be right about the cat
scratch.

But Nick frowned. "Said they had to review
them, that the specialist would let us know."

She didn't like the sound of that. "Then I'd
better wait here. Let Taylor and Walden handle Ashley."

"I'll call you if the doctors come. You're
only two doors away. Go, take care of Ashley."

She jerked her chin up at the tone of
command in his voice. "You were the one accusing me of neglecting
Megan. Said I was in denial, thinking that by saving Ashley I could
guarantee Megan's safety."

"You did save Ashley. And you were here for
Megan. Now you need to do this for yourself. Finish it. And," he
said with a hint of a smile, "I have a feeling your instincts were
right on target. It was a good idea, arranging for Bobby Fegley to
come here, meet Ashley in person."

"Some instincts. I actually liked
Fletcher—well, in an irritating puppy dog kind of way."

"Speaking of puppy dogs—" He guided Lucy's
bad arm into the sling.

She stared at him, aghast. "You didn't."

"Megan thought Boots needed company."

"Nick. No. Look at our schedules—" She
stopped herself. What was she saying? After the Office of
Professional Responsibility finished with her, she'd be lucky
getting a job writing parking tickets.

"John Greally came by," he said, reading her
mind as always. "Said not to wake you."

She grimaced. "I'll bet he wasn't too
happy."

"He was happy—that you're alive. Not so much
about the bureaucratic mess. Something about a public commendation
and an official reprimand? Sounds like an oxymoron to me. And a
warning that you'd better stay under the radar for a good long
while."

The concussion must have made her brain
fuzzy. "Are you saying I still have a job?"

"Yep. But you have to play nice, dress up
for some fancy ceremony the Mayor is hosting. Giving you and
Burroughs the keys to the city or shiny pieces of tin or some such
thing."

Lucy started to laugh, cut it short when
pain sliced through her back and chest and shoulder. "Leave it to
Greally. God help us all if he ever decides to go into
politics."

There was a knock on the door. Nick opened
it. Megan stood there, connected to her IV pole with its antibiotic
hanging in a clear plastic bag. "Mom, there's some people
here."

Lucy glanced in the mirror. No sense scaring
Bobby and Ashley with her looks. Nick had done a decent job of
cleaning her up. The crisp, white t-shirt hid most of the damage
and the sling took care of the rest. Except for the shiner. Not
much she could do about that. Nick wrapped an arm around her waist
and they stepped out together.