Jessica sidled up to a narrow archway. A musty curtain hung over the opening. She peered through. Ahead, another dark room. She stepped through the opening, her weapon out front, her Maglite over the top. To the right, a small Pullman kitchen. It smelled of old grease. She ran her Maglite along the floor, the walls, the sink. The kitchen had not been used in years.
Not for cooking, that is.
There was blood on the side of the refrigerator, a wide fresh swath of scarlet. The blood streaked toward the floor in thin rivulets. Blood splatter from a gunshot.
Beyond the kitchen was yet another room. From where Jessica stood it looked like an old stockroom, lined with broken shelves. She continued forward, and nearly tripped over the body. She knelt down. It was a man. The right side of his head had been almost taken off.
She shone her Maglite on the figure. The man's face was destroyed, a wet mass of tissue and shredded bone. Brain matter slithered onto the dusty floor. The man was wearing jeans and running shoes. She moved her Maglite up the body.
And saw the PPD logo on the dark blue T-shirt.
Bile rose in her throat, thick and sour. Her heart kicked hard in her chest, rattling her arms, her hands. She tried to calm herself as the horrors piled up. She had to get out of this building. She had to breathe. But she had to find Kevin first.
She raised her weapon out front rolled to her left, her heart hammering in her chest. The air was so thick it felt like liquid entering her lungs. Sweat poured down her face, salting her eyes. She wiped at them with the back of one hand.
She summoned her courage, slowly glanced around the corner, down the wide hallway. Too many shadows, too many places to hide. The grip of her weapon now felt slick in her hand. She changed hands, wiped her palm on her jeans.
She glanced back over her shoulder. The far door led to the hallway, the stairs, the street, safety. Ahead of her lay the unknown. She stepped forward, slid into an alcove. Eyes scanning the interior horizon. More shelves, more cases, more display counters. No movement, no sound. Just the clock-hum of silence.
Staying low, she moved down the hall. At the far end was a door, perhaps leading to what was once a stockroom or employee lounge. She edged forward. The doorjamb was battered, chipped. She slowly turned the knob. Unlocked. She threw open the door, scanned the room. The scene was surreal, sickening: A big room, twenty by twenty… impossible to clear from the entrance… bed to the right… a single overhead bulb… Colleen Byrne tied to the four posts… Kevin Byrne standing in the middle of the room… kneeling infront of Byrne is the monk in the red robe… Byrne has a gun to the man's head… Jessica glanced into the corner. The camera was smashed to bits. No one back at the Roundhouse, or anywhere else, was watching this.
She reached deep inside herself, to a place unknown to her, and stepped fully into the room. She knew that this moment, this brutal aria, would score the rest of her life.
'Hey, partner,' Jessica said, softly. There were two doors to the left. To the right, a huge window, painted black. She was so disoriented that she had no idea onto what street the window faced. She had to turn her back on those doors. It was dangerous, but there was no choice.
'Hey,' Byrne replied. He sounded calm. His eyes were cold emerald stones in his face. The monk in the red robe was motionless, kneeling in front of him. Byrne had the barrel of a weapon to the base of the man's skull. Byrne's hand was firm and steady. Jessica she could see that it was a SIG-Sauer semi-auto. It was not Byrne's service weapon.
Don't Kevin.
Don't.
'You okay?' Jessica asked.
'Yes.'
His answer was too fast, too clipped. He was operating on some untamed energy, not reason. Jessica was about ten feet away. She needed to close the distance. He needed to see her face. He needed to see her eyes. 'So, what are we going to do?' Jessica tried to sound as conversational as possible. Nonjudgmental. For a moment, she wondered if he had heard her. He had.
'I'm going to put an end to all this,' Byrne said. 'This all has to stop.'
Jessica nodded. She pointed her gun at the floor. But she didn't holster it. She knew the move was not lost on Kevin Byrne. 'I agree. It's over, Kevin. We've got him.' She took a step closer. Eight feet away, now. 'Good work.'
'I mean all of it. It all has to stop.'
'Okay. Let me help.'
Byrne shook his head. He knew she was trying to work him. 'Walk away, Jess. Just turn around, go back through that door, and tell them you couldn't find me.'
'I won't do that.'
'Walk away.'
'No. You are my partner. Would you do that to me?'
She had come close with that, but she hadn't reached him. Byrne didn't look up, didn't take his eyes of the monk's head. 'You don't understand.'
'Oh, I do. I swear to God, I do.' Seven feet. 'You can't-' she began. Wrong word. Wrong word. 'You… don't want to go out like this.'
Byrne finally looked at her. She had never seen a man so committed to an action. His jaw was set, his brow narrowed. 'It doesn't matter.'
'Yes it does. Of course it does.'
'I've seen more than you have, Jess. A lot more.'
She took another step closer. 'I've seen my share.'
'I know. It's just that you still have a chance. You can get out before it takes you down. Walk away.'
One more step. She was five feet away now. 'Just hear me out. Hear me out, and if you still want me to walk, I will. Okay?'
Byrne's eyes shifted toward her, back. 'Okay.'
'You put the gun away, no one has to know,' she said. 'Me? Hell, I didn't see a thing. In fact, when I walked in the room here, you were putting him in cuffs.' She reached behind her, dangled a pair of cuffs on an index finger. Byrne didn't respond. She tossed the cuffs onto the floor at his feet. 'Let's bring him in.'
'No.' The figure in the monk's robe began to shake.
Here it comes. You've lost him.
She reached. 'Your daughter loves you, Kevin.'
A flicker. She'd gotten to him. She stepped closer. Three feet, now. 'I was there with her every day when you were in the hospital,' she said. 'Every day. You are loved. Don't throw it away.'
Byrne hesitated, wiping the sweat from his eyes. 'I…'
'Your daughter's watching.' Outside, Jessica heard sirens, the roar of big engines, the screech of tires. It was the SWAT team. They'd heard the gunfire after all. 'SWAT's here, partner. You know what that means. Ponderosa time.'
Another step forward. Arm's length. She heard footsteps approach the building. She was losing him. It was going to be too late.
'Kevin. You have something to do.'
Byrne's face was laced with sweat. It looked like tears. 'What? What do I have to do?'
'You have a picture to take. At the Eden Roc.'
Byrne half-smiled, and there was a world of heartache in it.
Jessica glanced at his weapon. Something was wrong. There was no magazine. It wasn't loaded.
She then saw movement in the corner of the room. She looked at Colleen. Her eyes. Terrified. Angelika's eyes. Eyes that were trying to tell her something.
But what? Then she looked at the girl's hands. And knew as-time jogged, slowed, crawled, as Jessica spun, weapon raised, two hands. Another monk in a blood- red robe was nearly upon her, his steel weapon high, pointed at her face. She heard the click of the hammer. Saw the turn of the cylinder.
No time to bargain. No time to deal. Just the shiny black mask in that tornado of red silk. I haven't seen a
