26. Silas
TWENTY-SIX
SILAS
I barely register Vaughn moving toward Rowan because I’m scanning the crowd for a sign of the shooter.
People are moving in all directions, confused by the sound, which came perfectly timed with the fireworks.
I don’t want to look down at Rowan on the street. I don’t want to see what I know I’m going to see, because right now he needs me to be the professional I am.
Vaughn caught Rowan on the way down, so both of them are on the ground now, Vaughn’s hands pressing against Rowan’s chest. I drop beside them and move Vaughn’s hands gently to reveal the wound.
It’s on the left side of the chest under the collarbone. The bleeding is significant, but it looks like the bullet missed his heart.
“Keep pressing. Don’t stop,” I tell Vaughn, putting his hands back where they were.
Vaughn’s face is a thing I can’t look at right now.
Not yet, because I know if I do, I will lose it.
Rowan’s bag is on the ground where it fell. I reach for it and find his service weapon in the side pocket.
I want to kick myself for being so unprepared. I knew there was a threat, but I got so caught up living my dream life I forgot who I am. I haven’t carried my gun since the day I arrived, and even when there was a hint of a threat, I still kept my gun locked away in a compartment in my suitcase.
The time to be complacent is over.
I stand up and look around. On the edge of the crowd, a figure slowly moves away from the crowd like he’s trying to blend in with the darkness.
I push through the throng. Behind me, Vaughn calls Rowan’s name, but I can’t turn back. I can’t process the fact that my best friend is on the ground with blood on his chest because a bullet that was almost certainly meant for Vaughn found him instead.
Rowan showed up at the wrong time, and I was kissing Vaughn under the fireworks instead of watching the crowd the way I should have been.
I can’t process any of that right now.
The side street is empty except for the man who’s now moving fast at the far end of it, already turning the corner. I run after him with everything I have, hoping to get closer before he realizes he’s not alone.
When he sees me, he sprints toward a park behind the row of houses. In the dark, I can’t see if the park is just a recreational area or if it leads to woodlands beyond. If it’s the latter and he gets that far, I’ll never find him. Not without equipment or backup.
My first shot grazes his leg. He ducks behind a car and shoots back.
I drop and roll and come up behind a parked truck. His shots hit the wall behind where I was standing.
He’s good.
He starts running again, so I come out from behind the truck and take after him. When we’re out in the open, he fires again without stopping.
Something hits my arm, but there’s too much adrenaline coursing through my body for pain to register.
My lungs are burning and again I’m reminded of the easy life I’ve been living in Pine Ridge. No more five a.m. runs. No more late-night gym sessions in whatever hotel gym I happen to be staying at. I dropped the ball big time, and now Vaughn and Rowan are paying for it.
I raise Rowan’s gun, stop, aim for the leg, and fire once.
He stumbles, but he keeps going, even if his pace has slowed. He crosses the road closer to the park now, but then his foot catches on the curb.
I’m on him before he’s finished falling. The ground comes up hard and fast, and we hit it together, my gun falling out of my hand when I try to grab his.
He’s better than I expected for someone who just took a bullet in the leg. We roll, and he puts his fist into my face once, then again.
I force his gun hand to the pavement and knock it against the concrete until his fingers open.
The weapon skids away into the dark, and now it’s just the two of us.
I get my weight across his chest and my forearm at his throat and hold him there while he throws the last of his punches to my shoulder and my arm.
There’s some pain there, but I’m pretty sure the bullet just grazed it because it doesn’t hurt as much as it should.
I take every one of the man’s punches until I can reach for Rowan’s gun and press it to his temple. I wait for him to understand it’s over.
He goes still.
I breathe, and it’s the first clear view I get of his face.
The same face I saw at the festival. The man I filed away as probably nothing. The one who was joined by a woman and two children and who I told myself was searching for his family in the crowd.
He wasn’t. He was looking for Vaughn.
“Who are you?” I ask with as much of an even voice as I can manage.
“Fuck off.”
“You don’t know who I am,” I say. “But let me be very clear about something.” I dig the gun into his temple. “Ending your life right here won’t be a hardship for me.”
Something moves through his face like he’s assessing me, and then he smiles.
“Then do it,” he says. “Either way, this isn’t going to stop. There will be others. You think you were the only one? That I’m the only one?”
“Who hired you?”
He says nothing.
I press my knee against the bullet wound in his leg.
He cries out but then clamps his jaw shut and gazes at me with amusement.
“Who hired you?”
Nothing. I press harder.
He makes another sound. His jaw is tight and his eyes are wet and he still says nothing.
I understand he’s not going to talk, not here, not to me, nor under these conditions. He’s been trained for exactly this, and he’s using that training to waste my time.
I call Zuza.
She picks up on the first ring.
“I have him,” I say. “He’s alive. Three wounds, one to each leg, and a shoulder wound to the right side. I need an ambulance.” I look around for a street sign. “Corner of Maple and Fourth.”
“On it,” she says.
The corners of the guy’s mouth raise in a smug smile before he registers my assessment of his wounds.
“You won’t be smug for very long, jackass.”
I press my arm harder against his neck and shoot him on the shoulder. “That’s for my friend.” And then I shoot him in the foot. “And that’s for his father.”
I pull the sleeve of my shirt down to cover my hand and grab his gun from the ground beside him. I stand up and move away, ignoring his cries of pain.
He’s not going anywhere.
I run back toward where I left Vaughn and Rowan behind. Before I get to the festival crowd, I hide both guns under my shirt. As soon as I turn the corner, Tess comes running.
“What happened? You got shot?” She’s checking me over, and I flinch when she touches my arm.
“It’s nothing. Where are they?”
“The ambulance came,” she says. “Vaughn went with Rowan. They’ve gone to Millfield General. Silas, you’re bleeding.”
“I need to get to Vaughn, but I need to check the house first. Vaughn has the truck keys with him. Can you give me a ride to the farm?” I ask Clayton. “Tess, can you stay here? It’s safer for now. Stay with David and Mark.”
Tess looks terrified, but I need to move fast. “I promise I’ll explain everything.”
She nods and gives Clayton a quick hug. “Be careful.”
Clayton waits until we’re almost at his truck to ask me what’s going on.
“Long story,” I say. “Short version is that someone wants Vaughn dead and I need to make sure there isn’t anyone at the house.”
“Let’s go,” he says.
Clayton drives fast and doesn’t ask more questions, which is exactly what I need right now.
He drops me off at the access road. I borrow a flashlight and tell him to get Tess and go home. He tries to argue, but I manage to convince him I’m just being cautious; the threat has been neutralized.
I do a full perimeter check. Every entry point, every window, every area of cover, but I find nothing. No signs of forced entry. No signs of anyone having been here recently. The tire tracks at the end of the access road are old.
He was working alone or the rest of his support is elsewhere, and right now that’s enough.
I go inside, straight to Vaughn’s bathroom, where I’ve seen the first aid kit.
I clean and dress my arm quickly, glad it was only grazed, then change my shirt because the blood is not something I want Vaughn to see before I can explain it.
Then I take two zip-top bags from the kitchen drawer and put a gun inside each.
Vaughn’s car keys are hanging on the hook by the door. I’m pulling out of the driveway when Zuza calls.
“What have you got?”
“The medics took him to Millfield General,” she says. “Same hospital as Rowan. The sheriff received an anonymous tip that the man at the corner of Maple and Fourth is the one who shot Rowan Reeves at the festival. The tip included his location and a description of his injuries.”
“Thank you,” I say.
“One more thing,” she says. “I accessed the police radio transmissions. When they found him, they logged his injuries and his location. No weapon recovered.”
“Because I have it.”
“Silas—”
“I’m going to give it to the sheriff,” I say. “When I get to the hospital. Along with everything else.”
Zuza’s silence is telling. “Everything else?”
“Everything,” I say. “The contract. The reason I’m here. HelixGen. All of it. It’s time to come clean before this gets any messier.”
“Silas, this is already messy. I can’t get hold of Draven. I’ve been trying since this afternoon.”
“You know what I have to do.”
“You can’t, Silas.”
I take the exit to the hospital. “We aren’t supposed to exist, Zee. But we do. Someone pays us to do what we do. It’s time they take responsibility.’
“Fuck. I can’t believe we’re getting to this.”
“I know.”
“The sheriff seems clean,” she says. “From what I’ve seen, I think you can trust him.”
“I’ll call you as soon as I can. Fingers crossed it’s not for you to bail me out of jail.”
“I’ll be here,” she says.
The hospital comes into view, and everything becomes even more real. I park the car but can’t get out. What if Rowan didn’t make it? What if I can’t keep Vaughn safe?
I leave the two guns in the glove box and examine my reflection in the mirror. My face isn’t swollen, but I can see two small bruises starting to form on my cheek.
My feet are heavy with each step toward the building, and I feel like I’ve lived five lives since this morning.
One second I’m kissing Vaughn and celebrating our friend winning a giant pumpkin competition, and the next my whole world is upside down. In the middle of all of this, I remember Rowan’s look of betrayal when he saw me with his dad.
As messed up as it may be, I wish for him to be well enough to rip me a new one for sleeping with his dad.