Protector. Part 46

"f.u.c.k you!" Chris yelled back to Emily, skillfully dodging the stony barrage and continuing his ascent.

Emily dumped every last pebble she had on his head. She started to turn to retrieve more rocks when Chris' hand clamped down her ankle. Losing her balance, Emily fell forward onto the burning hot metal surface, her scream echoing into the distance. Chris heaved his narrow frame onto the top of the tower, almost doubled over from exhaustion. Emily flipped over on her back, but Chris grabbed hold of her s.h.i.+rt, preventing her from moving another inch. He worked his way back onto his feet, let go of her s.h.i.+rt and pressed the sole of his shoe into Emily's solar plexus.

"You f.u.c.king little snitch!" Chris muttered as he drew his pistol from the holster. He lowered the gun toward Emily's left eye. "Say 'good-bye,' Emily."

With tears streaming down her face, she screamed, "No! I won't!"

Chris was so deeply embedded in the moment that he didn't hear the approaching sound of boots charging up the second ladder, directly across from where he stood. He was seconds from pulling the trigger when he caught a glimpse of motion. Chris turned, just in time to see the top of Jane's head cresting the tower. Without missing a beat, he swung his foot off of Emily's and aimed his gun toward Jane's head. He fired a round, narrowly missing Jane's left ear.

"You f.u.c.king b.i.t.c.h!" Chris angrily screamed as he jerked Emily up to a standing position, wrapped his arm tightly around her tiny neck in a chokehold and wedged the barrel of the gun against the kid's temple.

Almost simultaneously, Jane rolled onto the top of the tower, pulled out her pistol and aimed it directly at Chris. The searing heat reflected off the tower and onto her p.r.o.ne body, issuing a burnt smell of metal. For a moment, the bright light blinded Jane. Her head spun as she held the Glock outstretched with her right hand and supported herself with her left. The visions were becoming a ghastly reality.

"Well, f.u.c.k you, Jane! f.u.c.k you!!" Chris roared.

"Chris! Don't do this!" Jane shouted, frozen on the hot surface of the tower.

"You couldn't just let it be, could you?"

There was a sense of disjointed reality for Jane as if she'd already gone through this h.e.l.l. She carefully stood up, lifting her left palm from the tower's surface. In shock, she saw a depressed, backward imprint across her flesh. Glancing down, Jane recognized a domed cap with the raised date of 10-24-99. Impossible, she thought, but true. "Put down the gun, Chris," she said, her voice low and restrained.

"Why didn't you just tell me what this little f.u.c.ker knew from the get-go? I'm your partner! You owed it to me!"

"I didn't know anything, Chris."

"Don't sell me that bulls.h.i.+t! She was talking to you all along! Whispering her little secrets back and forth! She was talking about me! Me!"

"She didn't know it was you until this morning!"

"Don't f.u.c.king lie to me!" Chris exploded, jamming the barrel of the gun harder against Emily's temple. Emily winced, paralyzed with fear. "All your little whispers. Like that first day when you interviewed her and she whispered her little secrets in your ear. You wouldn't tell me! All you had to do was tell me what she said. Then I could kill her and finish the whole f.u.c.king thing. But no! You wanted to slowly nail my f.u.c.king a.s.s to the cross. Well, I don't sit back and roll over that easy! I won't be taken out because of some brat blabbing to the Department! I've worked too hard to get taken out! n.o.body takes me out! n.o.body!"

"Taken out?" Jane said. "Did the mob threaten to kill you if you didn't do their bidding? Is that it?"

"f.u.c.k you, Jane! n.o.body threatens me!"

"But they did, didn't they?" Jane replied solemnly.

"I'm n.o.body's f.u.c.king errand boy! I do my own bidding! I have power over people! I live well!"

Jane found herself glancing down to Chris' pant leg-it was stuck on the top of his custom cowboy boots, exposing the shaft of the boot. Staring back at Jane on the shaft was the starkly st.i.tched pattern of a wolf's face. Jane steadied herself. Off to the left, she could see Sheriff George and his deputy plodding through the meadow and heading toward the water tower. Dan was not far behind them. Chris was so out of it, he didn't hear them advancing. Jane looked at Chris' bloodshot eyes. "What are you on right now, Chris?"

"I'm not on f.u.c.king anything!" Chris snarled, his voice full of rage.

"Then what are coming down off of?"

"Oh, this is rich! A f.u.c.king alcoholic telling me-"

"It's meth, isn't it?" Jane yelled.

"What does it matter? If it's Sunday, it's meth, if it's Monday, it's c.o.ke-"

"You're not thinking clearly!"

"Well, I'm thinking more clearly than you! You call me on the phone and that coal train pa.s.ses while we're talking. The f.u.c.king coal train, Jane! There's only a few towns that a coal train still goes through. You gave yourself up and you didn't even know it! So, who's not thinking clearly here?"

"That train covers twenty or thirty miles. Why'd you choose Peachville?"

"I'd already been doing some research with my private consultant who explained the Department's criteria for a good safe town. So I just plugged his info into the equation. It took a couple weeks to figure out but here I am!"

"What private consultant?" Jane asked warily.

Chris smiled broadly and let out a guttural snicker. "Who do you think was keeping company with your ol' man all those weeks when you were incommunicado?" Jane felt as if the wind was knocked out of her. "After you left, Dale and me got even tighter than we were before."

Jane felt sick. "Before? I don't believe you."

"You don't think your own dad would sell you down the river? Think again!"

"I never told him where I was going!"

"Procedure, Jane. The Department has always had the same criteria for a good, safe town. It was the same for him when he was on the job as it is now. He gave you up, Jane. It was like talking to the magic genie. That coal train just sealed the coordinates down to a smaller area. The rest was all me. Me knowing you. Me knowing how you act and what to tell the good sheriff. You're so f.u.c.king easy, Jane. Don't you know that?"

Emily winced as Chris dug his forearm into her neck. "Jane . . ." Emily muttered.

"Shut up!" Chris yelled at Emily, squeezing her even tighter.

Jane saw that the sheriff and his deputy had quietly taken up strategic positions next to the tower. Dan followed suit. "You want to kill somebody?" Jane shouted, trying to divert Chris' attention away from Emily. "Kill me!"

"No!" Emily screamed.

"Oh, f.u.c.k! I thought I already did that! I thought that was you under the blanket that night. Not Martha! Christ, I gave you so many chances to look good. I had that b.u.m with the cigarette case I took from the house. Weyler would have gone for it. But you had to throw the wrench in it. Then there was good f.u.c.kin' 'Christian Ron!' You know the trouble I went through to set up that a.s.shole? He could have gone down for it and everything would have been sweet! But you stuck your f.u.c.kin' nose in that one, too!"

"You would have been found out one way or the other!"

"Do you mean this little b.i.t.c.h here?" Chris tightened his grip around Emily's neck. "s.h.i.+t! I had all that worked out! I'd wait 'til the smoke cleared and you were away from her. Then I'd track her down in Cheyenne and take care of business!"

"Chris, listen to yourself! You're not rational!"

"You try tweaking off meth and tell me how f.u.c.king rational you are!"

Jane had to buy time. "Is that how it all started? Getting high on meth? The Stovers?"

Chris was taken aback by Jane's words. His surprise then quickly turned into hatred for Emily. He pushed the gun barrel with more force into her forehead, leaving a circular imprint in her skin. "I knew it! I knew your dad would open his f.u.c.king mouth!" he yelled at Emily.

"I figured it out, Chris! Emily didn't know s.h.i.+t! Chris! Look at me!" Jane was desperate to distract Chris. "Why'd you do it?"

"What choice did I have? You think I was gonna let that p.r.i.c.k Stover walk into the DA's office and give me and the others up? They thought I was doing it for them! To protect their a.s.ses! But I was doing it all for me!"

Jane observed his body language. "But they still threatened your life."

"f.u.c.k you!"

"Is the meth one of the perks?"

"Don't get righteous with me, b.i.t.c.h! Don't pretend you're not an addict! You know what it feels like when you can't get it! And you know how good it feels when you finally taste it!"

The sweat dripped down Jane's face under the searing solar glare. "I am a drunk! But as f.u.c.ked up as I am, I'll never be as f.u.c.ked up as you!"

"Oh, Jane, I look at you and it's like I'm looking in a mirror! We know what h.e.l.l looks like because we've been there, baby. We love the dark and the shadows and everything that goes with it-"

"Don't shove me in your nightmare, Chris!"

"You know you love it! You just don't want to look bad in front of the kid!" Chris pressed his lips against Emily's ear. "You want to know the truth about your pal?"

"I don't care!" Emily said, choking on her tears.

"Of course you care!" Chris said, jerking Emily closer to him. "She's got a real appet.i.te for brutality. It's amazing she hasn't kicked the s.h.i.+t out of you, 'cause she's into serious pain."

"It's not true!" Emily yelled defiantly.

"It is true!" Chris stared at Jane in silence as a twisted grin crept across his face. "Emily, you love little secrets, don't you?" he said with an eerie quiver to his voice. "Wanna know a dirty little secret about your protector? Violence runs in her blood. She likes to punch hard because she likes to be punched. She loves to get the s.h.i.+t kicked out of her." Jane's eyes widened in shock. "Gee, Jane," Chris said with a crazed look. "Now, who do you suppose told me that little gem of family trivia?"

For Jane, it was as if the earth turned on its axis. All that had come before fell away. Every memory that had haunted her faded into the background. There was no apprehension. There was no doubt. There was no fear. There she was, standing there with both hands wrapped around the Glock. And there was Emily and the absolute knowing inside of what she had to do.

"Emily?" Jane said, as an intangible calm washed over her.

"Yes?" Emily quietly responded, fearful of what she knew was to come.

Jane focused on Chris but her innate connection to Emily was palpable. "Look at me, Emily." Emily peered up at Jane through the reflected sunlight. If there truly was any kind of otherworldly link between them, Jane prayed her thoughts would resonate loudly. "Do you understand, Emily?" Jane asked, not quite sure if it was possible.

"What the f.u.c.k is going on here?" Chris interjected.

Jane directed every ounce of energy to Emily. "Do you understand, Emily?"

For Emily, the dream fused into the moment. "I do," Emily replied in terror.

"Hey!" Chris yelled out. "Who's in charge here?"

Jane raised her pistol to Chris' forehead. "I am, Chris." There was a whisper of silence between them, before Jane yelled to Emily, "Now!"

Jane pulled the trigger. The bullet hit Chris square between the eyes. Within that second, Emily skillfully ducked just as Chris' finger depressed the trigger on his pistol. The bullet from his gun singed past Emily's scalp. A surge of blood poured from Chris' head wound, splattering across Emily's face and s.h.i.+rt. Chris fell backward, his arm still tightly encircling Emily. Emily reached out toward Jane as she felt herself heading over the edge of the tower with Chris. Jane raced across the tower and grabbed Emily's wrist, just as Chris began his fatal descent. The momentum, however, proved too powerful for Emily. Still grasping onto Jane's wrist, Emily slipped over the rim of the tower, slamming her chest against the metal side.

Jane fell to her stomach, hanging on to Emily's wrist. Chris. .h.i.t the ground head first, snapping his neck backward with a loud pop. Emily screamed, flailing against the side of the tower.

Emily turned her tear stained face toward Jane, slightly losing her grip on Jane's wrist. "Don't let go!"

"Hold on to me, Emily!" Jane ordered Emily as she let go of her Glock and slid her other arm over the side of the tower.

Sheriff George, along with his deputy and Dan, ran toward Chris' body, kicked away his gun and called up to Jane. "I've radioed for help!"

"I'm gonna die!" Emily shrieked.

Jane looked down at the trio standing sixty feet below, realizing it was too risky for them to try to catch Emily. "Emily!" Jane said abruptly. "You want to live?"

"Yes!" Emily said, choking on her tears.

"Then quit thinking you're gonna die!" Jane felt herself losing her grasp on Emily. "Grab my wrist with your other hand!"

Emily complied. The child's weight started to pull Jane over the side. To brace herself, Jane curled the tip of her boot around an eight inch metal rod that jetted out from the tower's surface. "I'm gonna pull you up, but you gotta help me. Come on!" Jane harnessed every last ounce of energy and yanked Emily toward her. Emily tightened her shoulder muscles and wedged her boots flat against the side of the tower. The child struggled against gravity but was finally able to reach the edge of the tower with her hand. Jane grabbed Emily by the belt loop of her jeans and hauling her frail body closer to safety. With one last pull, Jane swung Emily onto the tower's flat surface.

Emily collapsed into Jane's arms. "I'm safe," she sobbed, as if questioning it.

Jane held her tightly. "You're safe."

Emily buried her head in Jane's chest. "It changed," she whispered. "It really changed."

"What changed?"

Emily held on to Jane tightly and then pa.s.sed out.

Chapter 29.

The Denver police contingent-led by Sergeant Weyler-showed up in Peachville about three o' clock that afternoon. They spent four hours at the water tower, taking crime scene photos and interviewing Sheriff George and his deputy. Emily was driven to a local doctor's office to be examined and then released to her home in Peachville, in the temporary care of a nurse.

By seven p.m., the shooting death of Detective Chris Crawley in Peachville was the top story on every Colorado news station. Likewise, everyone in Peachville knew the true ident.i.ty of Jane Perry and that she pulled the fatal trigger. Jane paced nervously in the front yard-a cigarette carelessly dangling from her lips-and watched as cars crept in front of the house. The occupants often pointed at her. Some of their faces showed fascination and awe; others looked disgusted and angry.

"How does it feel to be on display?"

Jane spun around and saw Dan standing on the sidewalk, outside the front gate. "Dan!" She quickly crossed to the gate. "How's your head?"

"Oh, it's nothin'. Couple st.i.tches."

Jane noticed that Dan seemed reticent. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine. How's Emily?"

"She's in her bedroom with the nurse and Sergeant Weyler. They're talking. I haven't had much of a chance to be with her since it all went down."

Dan looked away. "I keep thinking this is some sort of dream . . . or nightmare. G.o.d, what you must think of me-"

"What are you talking about?"

Dan stiffened, keeping his distance. "All the comments I made to you about cops and how worthless they were-"