The Mentor (18 page)

“There it is!” exclaimed Eric.

Just ahead they could see his SUV parked along the side of the road, outside of a little red brick building. It looked like a warehouse, but one that hadn’t been open for a long time.

Without saying a word, Shaw opened the door and practically leapt out of the car, which was still moving.

“Wait!” said Miriam, hitting the brakes. “That place must be enormous. We have to wait for backup.” But her voice was already far behind him.

Eric ran across the cracked asphalt and followed the outside walls of the building, looking for a way in. Given that his SUV was parked here, they had to be relatively close by. He turned the corner, headed down a side street that was poorly lit by an old street lamp. The air was channeled down this street, creating a strong current that made the lamp sway slightly. A gray cat appeared out of nowhere, dashing past him from its hiding place. The cat hissed at him as it passed, its tail raised and fur standing on end. Eric feinted a kick at it and the animal took off more quickly than it had appeared, disappearing into the darkness.

When he turned around again toward the wall, he thought he could just make out a dark door a few yards away. He went over and gave it a push. It opened immediately but was blocked halfway open. Eric squeezed in through the gap, holding his gun and flashlight out firmly in both hands.

The beam of light filled the space in front of him with dancing shadows. The warehouse wasn’t abandoned at all. The enormous space was filled roughly two-thirds with boxes of all shapes and sizes. It was probably a storage space for valuable stolen merchandise—Garnish’s business. The boxes divided the large warehouse into a maze of corridors.

The flash of a reflection drew his attention. There was something metal to the left, a staircase. He pointed his flashlight on it. It led up to a walled-in loft space, also built of metal, that ran along one side of the building all the way to the opposite wall. Originally it must have contained the building’s offices.

Eric blinked furiously. Was that a faint light he could see?

He didn’t have time to think. He went up the stairs, careful not to make any noise. When he reached the top he turned off the flashlight. Keeping his hand on the wall to his left, he walked slowly forward until he’d reached the other end.

He was right. There was a very faint ray of light filtering out from beneath a door, even though the door was closed. Now he could see it clearly in the surrounding darkness.

He walked over to the door, listening intently. Maybe he should simply charge in with his gun out and then decide what to do from there. He had little concern for his own safety. He had to save Adele. Garnish wanted him—Eric—and that’s the way things should be. The thought that he was stepping into a trap made almost no difference to him.

He put his hand on the door. He listened carefully, trying to figure out if there were any sounds emanating from within, but he couldn’t hear anything besides the wind outside, which whined through fissures in the walls of the old building.

He turned the handle and pushed the door open, pointing his gun ahead of him, ready to fire. Suddenly it was as if every sound disappeared, sucked out of his consciousness. “Thank God,” he murmured in spite of himself.

Adele was sitting in a chair. A thin line of red ran down from her eyebrow, alongside her eye and then over her cheek, terminating in a dangling drop of blood. An ugly bruise stood out on her pale face, coloring her cheekbone. She was shaking her head violently in his direction.

For a moment Eric didn’t understand. His instinct was stronger than any reasoning. “Adele!” he exclaimed, walking into the room.

“Good evening,” said a voice.

Shaw turned his gun toward the sound just as Christopher Garnish emerged from a dark corner of the office. He was armed too, but his pistol was pointed straight at Adele. It was the gun he’d ripped away from Miriam.

“Whatever shall we do, Detective?” said the criminal, his tone almost conciliatory. “Want to see who’s faster?”

Eric wasn’t going to be intimidated by this man. “It’s over. Reinforcements are already on their way,” he said, taking a couple of cautious steps forward.

By way of an answer, Garnish stepped next to the seated woman and put the barrel of his gun to her temple. “Reinforcements?” He laughed. “Like her?” He nodded to Eric’s right.

Miriam stepped in through another doorway. “Throw down your weapon!”

“Throw down yours!” said Lorna Dillon from behind Miriam, pointing her own pistol at the back of Miriam’s head.

Miriam’s face hardened, but she dropped her weapon, letting it slide off her index finger and clatter to the floor, raising up a small puff of dust. The detective slowly raised both hands in the air.

Lorna shoved her forward toward the center of the room, then kicked her pistol away.

Eric’s heart rate spiked. He had to figure out a way to get them out of this situation. He was still holding his gun, but the two criminals were threatening both Miriam and Adele. Adele had started breathing heavily, the same way she had that morning when she saw Daniel’s body.

Miriam, on the other hand, was as immobile as a wax statue. She wasn’t showing even the faintest glimpse of the anxiety she’d displayed in his apartment. Her eyes were fixed on his, concentrated and calm . . . too calm.

“Fuck you!” shouted Miriam suddenly. Her elbow went flying backward, catching Lorna in the ribs and driving her aim off. Miriam spun around in the same movement, grabbing the woman’s right wrist and raising it up in the air. Lorna was driven into the wall, her back smacking into the cement with a dull thud.

Garnish raised his gun and shot.

“No!” shouted Eric, while Miriam buckled under the blow.

Miriam loosened her grip on Christopher’s companion and fell to the floor.

At that point, Shaw stopped thinking entirely. He aimed at Garnish and fired. Once, then again, hitting the man both times as Lorna began screaming.

The world seemed to have slipped into slow motion. He saw Adele throw herself to the floor and grab Miriam’s gun. Lying down, she rolled over, aimed at Dillon, and shot the woman in the head.

A look of utter stupor came over Dillon’s face as a gush of blood shot out of a hole in her forehead. Then her body collapsed and slid down the wall alongside Miriam.

A second later the silence was absolute.

Still incredulous, Eric looked around the room, uncertain whether what he was seeing corresponded to the truth. Then Adele yelled out.

He looked at her. She was still holding the gun with which she had shot Lorna. Eric stared into Adele’s eyes, horrified by it all.

A sudden sense of urgency drew his attention back to Miriam. She was lying on the floor, motionless.

Eric ran over to her. Her face was covered by her own hair. The bullet wound was in her back, where a large hole had opened up in her leather jacket. He shoved his gun into its holster and touched the wound, then checked his fingers. There was no blood. He reached out again, and only then realized that her back was much more rigid than it should be.

He delicately rolled her over. Her jacket fell open, revealing the bulletproof vest she’d put on. As soon as he saw it, Eric released an enormous sigh of relief. She’d been much more careful than he had.

“How is she?” asked Adele from where she lay on the floor, her voice trembling. She’d abandoned the gun on the floor. She kept her eyes on it, but she was curled up, hugging her knees to her chest.

Shaw touched Miriam’s face and laid two fingers on the side of her neck. Her heartbeat was regular. She had simply lost consciousness from the force of the bullet impact. “Hey, wake up,” he said quietly, shaking her a little, but she didn’t respond.

A deep groan made him turn around.

Garnish was supine on the floor, two large red stains spreading out across his shirt. The blood ran out onto the floor, expanding into a puddle. His body was racked with tremors, his eyes wide open. He was moving one arm in their direction.

This seemed to startle Adele out of her state of shock. “He’s still alive . . . ,” she murmured, scared but moving toward Garnish.

Eric caressed Miriam’s hair. That man had shot her. He didn’t deserve Eric’s compassion, but deep inside a voice kept telling him he had to do something. Reluctantly he left his “daughter” behind and went over to Garnish.

Adele was kneeling beside the criminal and opening up his shirt. The man’s eyes searched hers, begging them. His mouth moved, but he didn’t seem capable of producing sound. A bullet wound in the shoulder looked like it wasn’t too bad, but the hole in his stomach was losing a lot of blood. The woman looked up and met Eric’s eyes. “We have to do something to stop the bleeding.”

Eric looked back at her. He was finding it difficult to react to even the slightest stimuli. He could see Adele turning to him for help, but he had no idea what to do. He didn’t understand her question.

“Eric!” screamed Adele.

That finally shook Shaw out of his torpor. “There’s nothing we can do.”

“Goddamn it, call for help! Go on, move!” she yelled at him.

After everything Garnish had done, including murdering her ex-husband less than twenty-four hours ago, Adele was still doing whatever she could to save him.

He felt small and mean for briefly considering letting Garnish bleed to death. Adele was right. He had to call for help.

He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket.

In the meantime, Adele had gone over to Dillon’s body and taken the scarf off her neck. She used it to try to stem Christopher’s bleeding.

“There’s no signal in here,” said Eric.

“Go outside. I’ll handle this.”

He glanced at her, unsure. “Are you sure you’ll be okay?”

Adele looked up at him. Her face was calm, the shock that had paralyzed her not long ago now a distant memory. “Yes,” she said, displaying a small smile. “Go. I’ll wait here for you.”

She listened to Eric’s footsteps drawing farther away, ringing out as he ran down the metal gangway. It would take him a few minutes to get outside and make the call, longer if he had to go back to Miriam’s car and use the radio.

Adele turned to look at Miriam. She was still unconscious. Finally she looked Garnish in the face. Their eyes met and she smiled. Then she took her hand off his wound.

The man’s face contorted.

“Don’t be afraid,” she whispered kindly. “It won’t take long. Your life will be over soon.”

The man moaned again, stronger than before. “Please . . . ,” he managed to whisper in a weak voice.

Adele chuckled. “Who knows how many times you’ve heard other people say that to you? It sucks to be on the other side, doesn’t it?” She leaned in close, bringing her head near his. “You shouldn’t have killed Danny too.” Then she sat up again and put her hands on the scarf covering his wound; only this time she pressed outward with her fingers, pulling the edges of the wound farther apart.

Garnish emitted a strangled cry as his body contracted, then relaxed. His head rolled to one side, immobile. His eyes were wide open and empty, his mouth half-closed.

Adele felt her own lungs clamoring for air, greedily fighting a growing sense of breathlessness. Tears glistened on her cheeks while her body convulsed with tremors.

A coughing sound made her turn around. Miriam!

She looked at Christopher’s body again. She took the scarf off his wound and abandoned it alongside the body. Then she got up.

He ran up the stairs and across the gangway, but when he got to the door of the office the only thing he found was Garnish’s dead body.

“We’re over here,” said Adele, making him turn on one heel.

Miriam was sitting on the floor, her back against the wall. There was a grimace of pain on her face, but otherwise she seemed okay. At least she was conscious. Adele was kneeling beside her, helping her take off her jacket.

“
Merde! Fais-le lentement!
 Be careful . . . ,” Miriam said to her.

“Sorry,” muttered Adele. “I think she’s okay,” she said to Eric, irony in her voice.

“What happened to Garnish?” He paused again at the criminal’s body. What had happened while he was gone?

“He lost too much blood.”

“That son of a bitch must have broken my ribs,” said Miriam. “It feels like my chest is being torn apart every time I take a breath.”

Adele was opening up her bulletproof vest. There was a bullet lodged in the fabric on the lower part of the vest. “Thank God you were wearing it.”

“I don’t dash off to play hero without at least a little protection,” said Miriam, glaring at Eric.

He went over and knelt down by the two women. He couldn’t believe it was over and that they’d managed to get out of it all alive—that he wouldn’t be forced to dig into the past.

He looked at Miriam, then Adele.

“Okay, that’s good,” murmured Dr. Steward to himself as he checked the X-rays. “Just a cracked rib. Nothing serious.”

Miriam snorted noisily, then gave a little moan of pain that was swiftly followed by cursing.

“However, you absolutely have to rest,” the doctor continued. “For a while you’ll feel pain even just taking a deep breath.”

“I figured that part out already,” she growled.

Adele giggled a little and Detective Leroux cast her a baleful look.

“Don’t worry, doctor,” said Eric. “We’ll take care of her.” He gave Miriam’s head a swift, paternal caress.

“I’m just sorry I didn’t get a chance to watch that bastard die,” Miriam said.

The doctor coughed with surprise and gave the other two a perplexed look. “Maybe I can give you something for the pain . . .”

“Bravo. Finally you understand her,” said Eric.

But the doctor had already walked away.

Miriam was okay, better than okay in fact. Eric couldn’t help but smile when he looked at her. He truly loved her like a daughter. When Garnish had shot her, he’d completely lost control. The mere thought that she might be dead had overwhelmed him. He’d felt a need to annihilate that man. For the first time in his life, he’d been consumed by a thirst for revenge, and he couldn’t do anything to stop it. But when he’d seen Garnish lying dead after he’d run outside to call for help, all he’d felt was an enormous emptiness inside.