Becoming Quinn

“Durrie?” he whispered. “Was that you?”

No response.

“I heard something. If it’s Larson, he’s about fifty yards from me.”

Still nothing.

Jake’s hand involuntarily tightened on the grip of his pistol. “Durrie?” he said again, but received the same lack of response.

This was not good.

He considered investigating the noise, but held his position. The sound could have very well been part of the same kind of trap he and Durrie were trying to use on Larson.

“Hello? Hello? Is anyone there?” Larson said playfully over the radio. “Hello? Is that you out there, Officer Oliver? If so, I have your friend here, the one you said made a run for it from the cabin. You lied to me, Officer. I’m impressed.”

Jake pulled his earpiece out, holding it close enough so that he could hear anything coming over it. When Larson spoke again, he listened carefully to the forest to see if he could determine where the man was.

“I’m sure your conscientious mind would be glad to know Durrie’s still alive. Whether he stays that way is up to you.”

There was a faint sound coming from the direction where Jake had heard the thwack. He put the receiver back in his ear. Then, leaving his bag, he moved deeper into the woods, and began circling around so he’d come at the sound from the side opposite the clearing.

“Here’s how it’s going to go,” Larson said. “I know you’re close to the meadow. That little trick you tried to lure me in with? It did the job. Here I am. Now, step out of the trees, and walk all the way to the center.”

Jake needed to keep him engaged, so he whispered, “Why would I do that?”

“Officer Oliver, so good to hear your voice. Why? Because I’ll kill him otherwise.”

Jake paused behind a dying tree. “Why would you think I’d care? He kidnapped me.”

Larson laughed. “I’m not buying that. You’ve got a cop’s mind, which means you can’t let someone die if you think there’s something you can do about it.”

Jake could hear the man’s voice ahead, not quite loud enough to make out the words without the aid of the radio, but definitely recognizable as Larson. “I’m not a cop anymore.”

“You think getting fired changes the way you think? I know your kind. I know what goes on in a cop’s head like yours. It’s all about saving lives.”

Jake said nothing, worried he was getting too close to respond without giving away his position.

“What’s wrong, Officer? A little too close to the bone?” He paused. “Enough chat. Move into the meadow where I can see you, and do it now.”

Jake circled to the left, moving closer as he did.

“Oliver!” Larson shouted. Jake froze, thinking he’d been spotted. But then the man said, “Stop wasting time, and move out where I can see you! Goddammit! You do not want me to come looking for you!”

Jake could now see Larson standing next to a low, dark rock. Though the man’s tone indicated a person losing control, his body language told a different story. The shouts were an act, Jake saw. Larson was very much under control.

Using a wide pine tree to cover most of his body, Jake leaned out just enough to take a better look. Larson was looking toward the meadow, his gun in his hand by his side.

“Oliver! Now!” He looked bored as he yelled the words.

Movement. Not Larson, but at his feet. It was a rock, only it wasn’t. It was Durrie.

As Durrie tried to stagger to his feet, Larson put a foot on his back, looking like he was going to push him down, but then he paused and moved his foot away.

With his empty hand, he pulled Durrie up. “Tell him to walk into the meadow where I can see him,” Larson ordered. He plucked the mic off his collar, and held it out to Durrie. “Tell him.”

“Go to hell,” Durrie said.

Larson smiled. “Tell him.”

Jake raised his gun.

“I said, go to hell.”

Larson shoved Durrie to his knees, then whipped the gun around and pointed it at Durrie’s head.

“Drop it,” Jake said.

Both Durrie and Larson looked over.

“Well, how about that?” Larson said. “Nice job, Officer. I see Durrie’s done a little work with you.”

“Drop it,” Jake repeated.

Smiling broadly, Larson quickly yanked Durrie back to his feet, turning him into a human shield. “Why don’t you drop yours?”

Jake didn’t move.

“Is that what they taught you at the academy? To endanger the life of a hostage?”

“Put the gun down,” Jake ordered.

“You are one big pain in the ass, you know that?” Larson said. “I should have terminated you the same day I removed your girlfriend.”

After everything that had been going on, Jake’s mind took a second to process what Larson had said. When it did, a chill overtook his body.

No! Dear, God! No!

Larson tilted his head to the side. “What? You didn’t know? What do you think happens to people who get involved in things they aren’t supposed to? If you hadn’t involved her, you would have been the only one who needed to be dealt with. But you did, so…” He shrugged.

Jake glanced at Durrie. “Is he telling the truth? Is Berit…is she…?”

“Yes,” Durrie said. “It was…unsanctioned.”

“Unsanctioned? What the hell does that mean?” Jake asked.

Larson let out a laugh. “It means no one else had the balls to make the call so I made it myself. Same with you and this old asshole. I’m cleaning up trash all over the place.” His face hardened. “The end’s inevitable. This is what I do, and I’m very good at it. So toss the damn gun, and step out so we can finish this.”

Jake didn’t move, his eyes locked on Larson’s.

“You can run if you want. That’s an option, too. But that will only delay the end by a few minutes. Could be fun, though.”

Jake still didn’t move.

“Come on, Officer Oliver. What are you going to do? Shoot me through the hostage?”

Larson may have been a professional, but like Durrie had told Jake before, the assassin was a little too impressed with his own skills, which explained why he was woefully underestimating a twenty-two-year-old, ex- rookie cop.

“No,” Jake said. “We’re trained never to shoot the hostage.”

The bullet that left Jake’s gun passed even closer to Durrie’s head than the one back at the cabin. But, as before, it missed Durrie and hit what was behind him.

31

Jake’s otherwise excellent memory went a bit sideways after Larson crumpled to the ground. He remembered helping Durrie to Larson’s car, then suddenly they were back at the cabin.

Berit was dead. Berit was dead.

She had died helping him.

Yes, logically, he knew he wasn’t the one who pulled the trigger, but this wasn’t the first time in his life someone close to him had died because of his actions, at least in part. A big reason why he’d left home at seventeen was to prevent his sister from suffering a similar fate, and yet now someone almost as close to him was