Page 142 of Help Me Remember
As much as I want to punch him in the face for his reminder, I probably needed it. This man, if I can call him that, has taken more from me than he ever should’ve been allowed to. Now he has Brielle, and I am beyond angry.
Quinn makes a whistle noise. “That was the signal. She’s going to wait two minutes and break the glass. Let’s go.”
We creep along the exterior of the motel on the first floor. I take the right side and he takes the left. We move like we were trained to do, quietly and quickly. I duck under the first room’s windows, and when I pop up, he motions for me to go to the next. We continue that way until we are both in the position to breach the door.
I signal to Quinn that we should move, but he shakes his head.
I can’t wait. She’s in there with a man who has already tried to kill her once. Sitting here is killing me.
My body is ready to strike, but just as I am about to make the signal to go again, we hear the commotion.
Someone is yelling inside the room, and Quinn is moving to kick the door in.
Before he can, it flies open and Brielle is rushing out with a little boy in her arms.
She sees me. Her eyes widen. “Go to the car! Now!” I order, and then Quinn and I enter the room.
He grabs Sonya, pushing her out and instructing her to follow Brielle.
“Keep a cool head,” he warns as we move deeper in the room. The closet is to the right, and I pull the door open and Quinn does a visual check. It’s empty, which leaves one other place for him to hole up. The bathroom.
The door is closed, but I can hear movement. “You have nowhere to go,” I tell him. “Come out now with your hands up.”
Quinn moves to my left. “Don’t be stupid, just exit nice and slowly.”
“Fuck you! Fuck you all! That’s my wife and kid. You think I don’t know how this ends?”
“You should’ve thought of that earlier,” I say through gritted teeth. “There’s only one way this goes now.”
Quinn taps my shoulder and points for me to move to the side. “Listen, Bill, I’m a dad, and if it were my kid, I’d be like you if someone wanted to take my son away. But you killed a man, and . . . well, you held your wife and son here against their will.” Quinn turns to me. “Keep him talking, the police are almost here.”
The sounds of the sirens are echoing in the distance. “Why did you do it, Bill?” I ask.
“I-I just wanted my boy.” His voice cracks over the admission. “I didn’t mean to hurt him—any of them. I had no choice. If the cops came around my house, we’d all be dead.”
“You love him.”
“I do. I just . . . I had to make sure no one came around. I was going to get help.”
“It’s good that you tried to get help, Bill. But the police are here, so you have to make a choice. Are you going to show Myles the right way to handle things or not?” I ask, knowing my time in this room will end very soon. We won’t be a part of this once the police take the scene.
“They’ll come for you next. Tell them . . . that I’m sorry.”
Quinn moves back, tapping me as he goes, and then I retreat as well. The door to the bathroom flies open and then the shot rings out.
ChapterThirty-Seven
BRIELLE
That sound. The sound of a gunshot is something that I feel in my bones.
I move away from Myles, who is shaking.
Oh God.
Spencer.
I start to walk, but Sonya grabs my arm. “No, you can’t.”
