Chapter Twenty-Six
Russ woke on the hard concrete floor. His head throbbed and blood ran down in one eye.
He wiped at it as he struggled to get to his feet.
On the floor next to him lay the tire iron with more of his blood on it.
He picked it up, feeling a little dizzy but more focused than when he’d first regained consciousness.
Jack Marshall had left him for dead. The man just kept making mistakes, he told himself as he headed for the door that he knew must lead into the house. He wished he had his gun, but the tire iron would have to do, he thought as he considered taking the elevator, then chose the stairs.
He didn’t know how long he’d been out. Not long from what he could tell. He had no way of knowing what floor of the four-story house he’d find Jack on—let alone Amy Sue and Liz. From what he’d heard on the phone before they’d been disconnected, both women were in serious danger.
Climbing the stairs quickly, he tried not to think the worst, but it was hard knowing what Jack Marshall would do.
Then again, he knew firsthand what the man was capable of, Russ thought, as he put his hand to his throbbing head.
Fortunately, the bleeding hadn’t been extensive and had now mostly quit.
Quickly stopping at each floor along the stairs to listen, he moved upward until he heard voices on the third floor and eased open the door to step out. He sucked in a lungful of relief at the sound of Amy Sue’s voice even though he couldn’t make out her words.
Moving toward the voices, he stayed out of sight.
As he slipped behind a large cabinet, he peered around it into the massive living room.
From what he could see, it appeared that the Marshalls were in the process of remodeling.
They had changed one of the walls to make what looked like a small room between the living area and the also massive kitchen.
His heart began to pound harder as he realized that’s where Amy Sue’s voice was coming from.
Amy Sue was on her feet at the sight of Jack standing in the doorway with a large lethal-looking knife. “You don’t want to do this. Detective Tate is—”
“Dead,” Jack said. “He can’t help you.”
The shock of his words hit her. “You bastard,” she said, her voice breaking with grief.
It was all she could do not to launch herself at the man, knife or no knife.
Good sense kept her where she was as her hands balled into fists.
Russ gone? Her heart instantly filled with a drowning sorrow for what could have been, followed by a wave of guilt.
She had gotten him to this house. Why hadn’t she gone with him to the ranch.
But even as she thought it, she knew she couldn’t have let Liz come here alone.
Just as she hadn’t been able to let Jack Marshall get away with murder. “You’re a monster.”
He looked hurt. “You know nothing about me.”
“I know you’re a murderer,” Amy Sue snapped.
“But if you kill the two of us, too, the police aren’t going to protect you anymore.
You’re going to kill us with a knife? Whitney was killed with a knife.
You don’t think they’ll put that together?
People know that we came here, my sister for one,” she bluffed.
“If she doesn’t hear from me soon, she’ll have the cops beating down your doors. ”
“She’s right,” Liz said, hope in her voice. “I told a friend of mine from work that if I didn’t show up for my shift to call the cops. I gave her your address.”
Jack shook his head. “You’ve left me no choice,” he said but didn’t move. “I tried to warn you. If you’d just let it go and minded your own business.”
“Jack, just finish it,” Christine said from behind him.
Amy Sue hadn’t noticed her. As she did she felt a shock rattle through her. The woman was telling him to kill them. But what was more shocking was the gun she had pointed at Jack’s head.
Russ only had a few seconds to assess the situation and act. He was literally outgunned with both Christine and Jack armed with weapons, while he only had a tire iron. But he did have the element of surprise since he’d just heard Jack tell Amy Sue that he was dead.
As he moved quietly across the thick living room carpet, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Jack Marshall had a knife and Christine was egging her husband on. More astonishing was that it appeared she would shoot him if he didn’t kill the two women.
Or did she plan on shooting him after he killed Amy Sue and Liz? She could say she tried to stop him, that she had no idea he’d killed some woman he’d been cheating on her with, that she hadn’t known.
Russ tucked the tire iron in his jeans, freeing both hands as he reached her. He went for the gun as he cupped his hand over her mouth and dragged her back out of sight of the room’s doorway.
She was stronger than she looked, putting up more of a struggle than he expected. If not for his head injuries he could still have taken her down easily. He wrestled the gun from her, but she kept fighting using self-defense training as she attacked him.
Russ had hoped to do this quickly and quietly, but Christine Marshall wasn’t having any of that. As he grabbed her to take her down, she threw them both off-balance. They went down hard, Christine hitting her head on the edge of the glass coffee table and Russ slamming into the floor hard.
Amy Sue had seen Christine suddenly disappear from behind Jack as she was grabbed from behind. She had no idea what was going on. At the sounds behind him, Jack turned, giving her the opportunity she’d been waiting for.
She jumped on his back, slamming her fist into his neck and making him howl. Shocked, she saw that Russ was trying to subdue Christine, who was fighting him with everything she had. The gun she’d been holding on Jack just minutes ago was on the floor some distance away.
“Liz, get the gun!” she cried as Jack tried to throw her off. She kept punching him, going for his face when he tried to turn around. He still had the knife in his hand as Liz rushed past him into the living room.
It happened quickly and yet for Amy Sue, the battle had gone on forever.
With her legs wrapped around him, she’d managed to hit Jack in the face, holding on to his hair to keep him from throwing her off as she pummeled him with her free fist until her hand was slick with blood from his bleeding nose.
They all started at the loud crack when Christine’s head hit the edge of the glass coffee table. In what had looked like slow motion, Liz had the gun and had pointed it Jack but hadn’t taken a shot because she feared she would kill Amy Sue.
Russ lay on the floor seeming momentarily stunned, Christine lying next to him, her head bleeding profusely, as the sound of sirens filled the air.
“Drop the knife, Jack,” the suspended detective said as he got to his feet. He moved to Liz and had to wrestle the gun from her hands.
“You know he’ll get off if we let him go,” Liz argued as Russ peeled her fingers from the weapon and turned it on Jack.
“Drop the knife,” he repeated. Amy Sue was still on the man’s back, one hand buried in his hair. “Liz, go down and open the front door for the cops.”
It wasn’t until Liz moved that Amy Sue felt Jack give up.
The knife clattered to the floor. Jack seemed to see his wife bleeding on the carpet and moved like a sleepwalker toward her as the cops rushed in.
By then, Russ had put down the gun and reached for Amy Sue. She stumbled to him, letting him take her in his arms, holding on as if afraid she could no longer trust gravity and he was the only thing keeping her from falling off the earth.