Chapter 21
The kid was a dead ringer for Michael’s brother Rick at that age, even though Michael had a hard time seeing himself in Luke’s features. Rick was a jerk who used to beat on his little brother with alarming regularity, the resemblance doing little to endear Michael to his long-lost son.
“Eat your burger,” he said. The kid didn’t move.
Michael rocked on the back two legs of a metal chair, bracing himself with the windowsill. The boy had a matching chair inside the small cell, though he was curled up in a ball in the corner of the room. He had to be ten years old, but he was acting like a baby.
Back when Michael used to work here, they stored a Bengal Tiger in the cage where Luke was locked up.
They had some cool exotic animals in this place.
It smelled like the animals never left, which is why the space was still vacant three years after the owner of the operation was deported.
Michael lived here so long he didn’t even notice the stench anymore, and certainly didn’t find it as upsetting as the boy huddled in the corner.
“I said eat it!” he snapped, and was rewarded when the boy scurried to the center of the cell for the food. Luke took a large bite and chewed it slowly, his wide eyes trained on Michael’s shoes.
So this is my kid.
Michael had never thought of himself as a father.
He didn’t use anything for birth control but he was still surprised when Emma got herself knocked up.
She left town and Walker said it was taken care of, so Michael never gave it another thought until he saw Emma and the boy in the hospital cafeteria yesterday.
His parole officer set him up with the cafeteria job after he got released for grand theft auto, and since the animal shop was out of business he was stuck taking that shit job until he found something better. Then presto, in walks Emma, and he got an idea with lots of dollar signs in it.
She was there visiting some old guy, and all Michael had to do was look at the white board at the nurse’s station to see who he was. Beaumont, Jerry. Same last name as the guy he’d been paid to kill by Walker. What were the odds of that?
He’d scribbled down the room number, smiling smugly. There was a reason those nurses weren’t supposed to put names up there for just anybody to read.
Michael imagined money coming at him from all directions. From Emma, for sure, and from Walker to keep his mouth shut all over again. Michael wasn’t sure how Jerry Beaumont played into all this, but he could only help with that financial plan.
So he’d snagged the boy.
It wasn’t even hard. The trick was getting him to come voluntarily.
Michael had donned a white doctor’s coat and swiped a stethoscope off a counter, then told the kid his mommy wanted him to give blood to help all the sick people in the hospital.
He used Emma’s name and smiled all sincere, and Luke had followed him to the basement like a puppy on the scent of a dog bone.
Luke had fought and screamed a little at the end when Michael picked him up and threw him into the van, but there wasn’t anybody down there to notice.
The boy finished his burger and slunk back to the corner. “I have to go to the bathroom,” he said quietly.
“Have at it, kid. I’ll give you some privacy, okay?” He stood, pushing the metal chair into a metal table with a loud clang. “I ain’t a pervert or nothing.” He smiled, suddenly wanting the boy to know the truth. “I’m your real dad.”
For the first time since Michael had kidnapped Luke, the boy put his head between his knees and cried. After that, Michael really didn’t know what to say to the boy. The ringing of his watch alarm made them both jump.
“It’s show time, kid.” Michael peered at his cell phone as if to check. “Your mom should be dropping the money as we speak. I need to go pick it up.” He pulled out a gun and loaded it with bullets.
“What’s that for?” asked Luke.
“Just in case your mother gets smart.”
“Don’t hurt her.”
Michael had cared for Emma once, but she went and screwed everything up, lying to him, having his kid without telling him. The idea of hurting her now held a certain appeal, but there was no reason to share that with Luke. “If she follows the rules, I won’t have to.”
“What about me?”
“What about you? You’ll be fine,” said Michael.
“What if you don’t come back?” The boy’s voice cracked awkwardly.
Michael ran his hand through his hair. “Jesus, kid, you ask a lot of questions. I got to go.” He walked toward the elevator.
“Freeze!” a man yelled.
A gunshot erupted, the noise overwhelming in the cavernous space.
Michael thought of the boy, his ace in the hole, the only way he could come out of this okay, and turned to run back to the cell.
More shots followed him as he reached his son and pointed the weapon directly at Luke.
Michael was shaking, sweat visible on his forehead.
He yelled out, “You come any closer and I kill the boy!”
Colin was crouched in the shadows between a stack of packing crates and a large pile of empty cardboard boxes.
He held the gun in his bad hand, not trusting himself to fire a weapon with the opposite arm.
Gwen stood across the walkway, shielded from view by a tall metal cabinet.
She held Walker’s gun at the ready, but Colin had the better line of sight to the elevator where Michael stood.
He could hear the boy asking questions, then footsteps before Michael rounded the corner. “Freeze!” Colin yelled, watching as Michael pulled a gun from his waistband. Colin aimed for Michael’s femur and pulled the trigger decisively.
Pain ripped through Colin’s shoulder as the gun recoiled, and he called out involuntarily. Michael didn’t seem to be hit. He returned fire, debris flying into Colin’s face and eyes as the bullet struck the concrete floor, sending rocks scattering.
Colin raised a shaking hand to train his weapon on Michael and failed, the wounds to his eye and shoulder preventing him from lining up the shot.
He felt panicked for Gwen. Could she handle this by herself?
Defend them all and take Michael down? Reproach overwhelmed him, but he couldn’t help her now.
Michael took a step toward Colin at the same instant Gwen fired, the bullet at once both hitting his shoulder and alerting him to her presence.
Colin could only make out Michael’s silhouette against the wall of windows behind him, their brightness quickly dimming as his vision deteriorated.
He could see Michael had been wounded from the hunch in his gait, and was proud that Gwen got a shot in.
She fired again, but Michael had already turned, quickly running around the corner.
Colin knew what would come next. Luke was encaged over there. Michael Hinman got a hostage at the same moment that Colin’s eyesight went completely dark.
Gwen crossed to Colin, the blood on his face making her fear for the worst. “Are you okay?”
“Go get him! He’s going to get Luke!”
She stood, knowing she was already too late to stop such a thing, grateful that Colin seemed all right. Her mind raced as she stepped toward the corner.
Please help me save the boy.
Gwen often found in the most stressful situations that time was her greatest ally.
She believed that time was flexible, more a construction of her own mind than any predetermined absolute.
Her steps were quick and light, though in her perception the walk was interminable, stretching out as she considered what to do.
She had tools at her disposal—the weapon, her martial arts training. She had the heels of her sandals and the belt of her dress. Righteousness was on her side as well, and she wielded it like a sharply pointed sword.
Gwen took note of those who were present in spirit. David and Jerry, her own guardian angel. God himself. The boy’s mother was here, as well as Rowan and Becky.
Tell me what to do.
She peered at the gun in her hand, suddenly certain she’d fare better without it, and rested it on the ground before taking the turn. She faced Michael with her empty hands raised, her blue eyes shining in the rays of the setting sun.
“You come any closer and I kill the boy!” he yelled.
Gwen could feel his stress, see the tremors that ran up his arms. Her eyes went to Luke, a huddled mass of innocent fear, his head scrunched down to his knees.
“I’m not armed,” she said.
Michael’s face twitched. “Where’s the gun?”
“I left it back there, on the floor.”
“Why?”
“God told me to.”
He blew out air. “Bullshit. You probably gave it to your friend, and he’s going to come around here shooting.”
“He might.” She knew Colin would if he could, but she doubted he was able. “But I won’t.”
Michael’s brow furrowed. “What do you want?”
“To trade places with the boy.”
“No.”
“Let me in there with him. He’s scared.”
Michael looked at Luke.
Gwen could see the resemblance between father and son, hoping some scrap of the paternal bond remained. “He looks like you,” she said quietly.
“He’s my kid.”
She took a step closer, and Michael turned the gun on her, forcing her hands higher.
“You don’t move unless I tell you to move.”
“Please, Michael. Let me go in with Luke. I won’t be able to hurt you in there.”
Luke began to sob. He took in air like he’d been crying for some time, finally unable to do it quietly.
“Stop it,” said Michael.
Luke instantly cried louder, the sound echoing through the empty space.
“Stop!”
Luke’s wail became hysterical.
“Let me go to him,” Gwen said loudly. “I can calm him down.”
“Okay, okay.” Michael took a key out of his pocket. “Stop fucking crying!” He unlocked the gate and Gwen stepped forward.