CHAPTER 19
“Don’t make me do this to you,” Mitch pleaded with Jase Hearn as he crouched there pointing Des’s gun right at him, the SIG feeling so unfamiliar and wrong in his hand. “Don’t make me shoot you.”
“You have to,” Jase argued, his own gun trained right back on Mitch. “Or I have to shoot you. I won’t come with you. I won’t be locked up. I can’t be.”
“This is no good, Jase,” Mitch said, seeing his breath before him in the rail barn’s frigid air. Even though he could barely breathe. His heart was pounding faster than it ever had. And the only other time his knees had trembled this badly was that night he’d gone for his first open-mouthed kiss from Emily Rosenzweig in the doorway of her apartment building on Stuyvesant Oval. How old had he been, fifteen? Emily was married to a periodontist now, had two kids, still lived on the Oval, and why was he thinking about her at a time like this? “Jase, the law is already here. Can’t you hear them?”
The sound of SP-One’s whirring blades had built to a thundering crescendo as the chopper had touched down in the castle’s parking lot. Gradually, the sound was beginning to taper off. They’d definitely landed.
“Jase, state troopers will be all over this place in a minute. They’ll follow our footsteps directly here.”
“They’ll never find me,” Jase promised, sticking out his furry chin. “I’ll be gone before they get here.”
“You’ll be dead is what you’ll be-if you don’t drop your gun.”
Jase shook his head at him. “You’re too nice a guy, Mitch. Can’t pull the trigger.”
“Sure, I can,” said Mitch, who had absolutely no doubt. Not after everything he’d been through over the past eighteen hours. He was not the same person who’d driven up here for dinner last evening. He’d seen too much death. And now he was staring it right in the face. And it was staring right back at him. And he was not going to blink. No, he was not. Because he wanted too much to stay alive. It was simple, really. Sometimes, the truth is.
“Maybe you can,” Jase allowed, reading the cold certainty in Mitch’s eyes. “But that just means we both die. What good does that do?”
“You don’t get away, that’s what. I won’t lie to you, Jase. I’d really rather not die just yet. But if that’s what it takes to stop you, so be it.”
“Well, okay then,” Jase said easily. As if by magic, all of the panic and desperation began to seep right out of him. He became very relaxed. Even seemed at peace with himself, if such a thing was possible. He lowered the. 38 into his lap, holding it there loosely. “It’s the best thing all around, you know.”
“What is?”
“Shoot me,” Jase said, incredibly calmly. “Just go ahead and do it, man. You’ll be doing me a favor. I haven’t got a single damned thing to live for. Go ahead and shoot me. I want you to.”
“Jase, this is not going to happen. I won’t be your judge, jury and executioner.” Mitch edged closer, almost close enough to touch him. He held his left hand out to him. “So why don’t you let me have your gun, okay?”
Jase hung his head in defeat, studying the gun in his lap. “If that’s how it has to be.” He sighed.
“That’s how it has to be.”
Jase smiled at him fondly now. “You were nice to me from the moment we met. Didn’t treat me like some low-class cretin.”
“Because you’re not one.” Mitch was still holding his hand out to him.
“I wouldn’t do this for just anyone,” he said, hefting the. 38 in his hand. “I hope you get that.”
“I do, Jase. And I appreciate it. Now please just hand it-”
“You shouldn’t have to shoot me, you know. If you do something like that, man, you’ll be seeing me in your dreams for the rest of your life. And that’s not fair to you, is it?”
“No, it’s not.”
“Mitch, I’m really glad we agree on this.”
And with that, Jase Hearn took a deep breath and put a bullet directly through his own right ear.
He did it so fast that Mitch did not have time to react. All he could do was watch it happen, stunned.
Jase toppled over against the wall, the gun falling from his hand. But he didn’t die instantly. He was still there with Mitch for a few seconds, reaching out to him as if he wanted to shake hands. Mitch took his hand and squeezed it. For one brief, weird moment, they were like a pair of civilized gentlemen there on the floor of the barn together, saying, “I was pleased to make your acquaintance, kind sir.” Then, Jase’s hand quivered and jumped in Mitch’s, like a live fish, and then, with a quick spasm, it was not a live anything.
Mitch knelt there, holding him in his arms, feeling so unbelievably sorry for him. He could not direct any anger at Jase. That emotion he reserved for Jory. No, Jase had shown him only kindness. In fact, Jase had probably just done Mitch the biggest favor anyone would ever do for him in his entire life. And so he felt grateful. And he knew that in the weeks to come, when he strolled past Jase’s headstone at Duck River Cemetery, he would pause to leave him a smooth, polished stone and say, “Hey, Jase, just came by to say thanks again.”
But right now, Mitch had to let go of Jase and leave him there on the cold ground. Mitch staggered back out of the rail barn into the snow and retraced their footsteps up the railroad tracks toward the castle. His ears were still ringing from the gunshot. His nose had stopped bleeding, but he couldn’t breathe through it at all. He found himself gasping for breath as he plowed his way back up the hill. It was rugged going, and he was tired. He had never been so tired.
As he came around the big bend near where Jase had jumped him, he spotted someone charging down the tracks in a black ski parka. Someone of color. As they drew nearer to each other, he realized it was Yolie Snipes, Soave’s half-black, half-Cuban sergeant.
Yolie had her gun drawn. She was pointing it right at him. “Drop your weapon!”
“It’s okay, Yolie, it’s me!” Mitch called out. He hadn’t even realized he was still holding it.
“Mitch, I still want you to drop the weapon!”
And so he did.
She approached him with a guarded look on her face. Snatched Des’s SIG up out of the snow and sniffed at it. “This hasn’t been fired.”
“That wasn’t necessary.”
She shoved it in her pocket and checked him over, her brown eyes gleaming at him warmly. “How you doing, big fella? You okay?”
“I think my nose is broken, but I’ll live.”
“What about our shooter?”
“Jase made other arrangements.”
“He made what?”
“You’ll find him on the floor of the rail barn, behind Choo-Choo Cholly.”
“Choo-Choo who?” Yolie shook her head at him. “Damn, what kind of place is this anyhow?”
“A real happy place, Yolie. People come from all over the country just to be here. They watch the eagles soar. They hike the trails. And they ride Choo-Choo Cholly up and down the hill, up and down, up and
…” Mitch smiled at her. “It’s nice to see you again, by the way.”
“Back at you,” she said, reaching her hand around and pressing it against the back of his head. She came away with blood. “You sure you’re okay?”
“That’s just from this morning, when I had a small concussion. I blacked out twice, but I’m fine. Why, don’t I look fine?”
“You look great.” Yolie grinned at him hugely. “And I know me a hurting baby girl who’s about to get real happy. Come on, let’s get you out of here.”
She took him by the arm and helped him back up the hill to the clearing where Cholly’s little crunched depot was. From there, he could see the helicopter idling in the parking lot, its blades whirring slowly. Several people were standing near it.
One of them started running toward him right away. It was Des, and she ran very strangely. It was partly the deep snow, partly the homemade sling she was wearing on her wounded arm. As she got closer to him, he saw that she was also sobbing uncontrollably, the tears streaming down her face, which was totally not like her. Des absolutely detested girlie-girls.
When she got to him his girlie-girl slammed into him so hard that they both pitched right over into the snow, Des flush on top of him, covering his face with wet, cold kisses. “Baby, I thought you were dead,” she blubbered.
