Chapter 5
Rachel drove ninety miles an hour all the way to the safe house.
She ran every red light. She cut off three cars. She didn't care. All she could think about was Lily's face, Clara's arms around her kids, the way Leo had laughed when the paramedic gave him a sticker at the hospital.
The house was crawling with cops when she got there.
Crime scene tape strung between the trees. Flashlights bobbing through the dark. The two officers' patrol car sat in the driveway, its windshield riddled with bullet holes, the seats soaked through with blood.
Mike met her at the door.
His face was ashen.
“Inside,” he said. “You need to see this.”
The living room was a mess.
The couch was overturned. The TV was smashed. The blanket Lily had been dragging was torn in half, lying on the floor near the front door. There were blood smears on the wall by the kitchen, small ones, like someone had been dragged out struggling.
On the coffee table, sitting on top of the shattered remote, was the metal box.
The one Rachel had locked in the evidence room at the precinct.
It was open.
Empty.
A single piece of paper was taped to the inside of the lid.
Rachel's name was scrawled across the top in Jesse's messy handwriting.
You should have stayed out of it, Brooks. Now I'm gonna make you watch them die. Slow. Come alone to the old steel mill on Route 12 at dawn. If you bring anyone, I shoot the oldest one first. If you call the feds, I shoot the baby. You have four hours.
Rachel crumpled the note in her fist.
“He took the box,” Mike said. “All the evidence against Hale. All the evidence against the crew. It's gone. We have nothing now.”
“Not nothing,” Rachel said. “We have me. He wants me. I'm gonna give him what he wants.”
Mike grabbed her arm.
“Are you insane? He's gonna kill you. He's gonna kill all of you. We need to call SWAT. We need to set up a perimeter.”
“If we do that, Lily dies first,” Rachel said, yanking her arm free. “You heard the note. He means it. I know guys like him. They don't bluff when they've already killed a cop and shot two more. He's got nothing left to lose.”
She looked at the blood on the wall.
“I'm going in alone,” she said. “But you can be close. Wait two miles out. If I don't radio in by seven a.m., come in guns blazing. But not a second before. Promise me, Mike. Promise you won't let them go in early.”
Mike stared at her for a long time.
He knew he couldn't talk her out of it.
“I promise,” he said. “But you better radio in. I'm not writing your eulogy this week. My wife already says I go to too many cop funerals.”
Rachel left ten minutes later.
She didn't take her radio. She didn't take her phone. She didn't take anything but her gun, a spare magazine, and the small knife she kept strapped to her ankle. If Jesse was searching her, she wanted as little as possible to give away.
The old steel mill was forty minutes outside the city, a giant rusted hulk of a building sitting alone in the middle of empty fields. It had been closed since the eighties, a popular spot for kids to drink and for criminals to dump bodies. No one came here by choice.
Rachel pulled off the main road a mile out, parking her car in a stand of trees. She walked the rest of the way, staying low, moving through the tall wet grass, watching for lookouts.
The sky was starting to turn gray when she reached the mill.
The big front doors were propped open.
No lights on inside.
No sound.
Rachel drew her gun.
She stepped inside.
The mill was enormous, a maze of catwalks and rusted machinery, open pits full of dark water, conveyor belts hanging from the ceiling like dead snakes. The air smelled like rust and oil and rain.
“Jesse!” she called out. “I'm here! Alone!”
Her voice echoed, bouncing off the metal walls.
Nothing.
Then, from high up on the main catwalk, a light clicked on.
Jesse stood there, backlit, a gun in each hand.
Behind him, tied to a metal railing, were Clara and the kids.
Clara was beaten worse than before, her eyes swollen almost shut. Lily was crying silently, her hands bound behind her back, a gag around her mouth. Leo was in Clara's lap, his eyes closed, his face pale. He wasn't moving.
“Leo!” Rachel screamed.
Jesse laughed.
“He's fine,” he said. “Just a little sleepy. Gave him something to keep him quiet. Wouldn't want him ruining the big moment.”
He leaned over the railing, grinning down at her.
“Throw your gun up here,” he said. “Slide it across the floor. If I see so much as a finger twitch toward your ankle, I put a bullet in the girl's head before you blink.”
Rachel hesitated.
Then she unclipped her holster, throwing the gun as hard as she could. It clattered on the metal catwalk at Jesse's feet.
“Good,” he said. “Now climb the stairs. Nice and slow. Hands where I can see them.”
Rachel climbed.
The metal stairs were slippery with condensation, creaking under her weight. Every step felt like it took an hour. When she reached the top, Jesse kicked her gun over the side, sending it clattering down into the dark below.
He held one gun to Clara's head.
The other he pressed to Rachel's chest, right over her heart.
“You know what the worst part is?” he said, leaning in close. His breath smelled like beer and cigarettes. “Clara actually thought she could get away. She actually thought a whore like her deserved to be happy. She forgot she belongs to me. Those kids belong to me. Everything she has is mine.”
Rachel didn't move.
She didn't take her eyes off Lily.
The girl was staring at her, not crying anymore. She was watching Jesse's hands, watching the guns, like she was waiting for something.
“You killed Hale,” Rachel said.
Jesse grinned.
“Damn right. That greedy bastard was gonna sell me out the second the heat got too close. I did everyone a favor. Now I'm gonna do the world another favor. I'm gonna get rid of you, and then I'm gonna take my family home. And this time? No more running. No more hiding. Clara's gonna learn to be a good wife. Or she's gonna watch me raise the kids alone. Either way works for me.”
He cocked the hammer on the gun against Rachel's chest.
“Any last words, cop?”
Rachel looked at Lily.
The girl nodded, almost too small to see.
“Yeah,” Rachel said. “Watch this.”
She drove her elbow hard into Jesse's nose.
He roared, reeling back, the gun going off an inch from Rachel's ear, the bullet zinging off the metal ceiling. Clara threw herself forward, slamming her shoulder into Jesse's legs, sending him stumbling. Lily bit down hard on the hand holding the second gun, her teeth sinking into his flesh until she tasted blood.
Jesse screamed, swinging the gun wildly.
Rachel tackled him to the catwalk, punching him over and over, her fists connecting with his face, his ribs, his throat. He fought back, grabbing her hair, slamming her head against the metal rail. Stars exploded behind her eyes. She reached down, yanking the knife from her ankle, driving it into his shoulder as hard as she could.
He howled, rolling off her, clutching the knife.
He stumbled to the edge of the catwalk, his boots slipping on the blood pooling on the metal.
Rachel stood fast, gasping for air.
Below them, sirens wailed.
Blue and red lights flashed through the broken windows.
SWAT was here.
Jesse looked at the stairs, blocked by Clara and the kids. He looked at Rachel, standing between him and the other end. He looked down, forty feet into the dark open pit full of water and rusted scrap metal.
May you like
“You'll never take me alive,” he spat.
He jumped.
