Page 70 of 3rd Tango
Game over.
“Behind you!” he yells.
Before I can strike her, Marie whips around, gun pointed at my face. My weapon is already raised, but the wrong end is aimed at her. Still, hoping to capitalize on the confusion, I yell, “Drop it!”
Her bottom lip trembles, and so does the hand holding the gun.
“Shoot her,” Gayle says under his breath. “We’ve got to get out of here. Now.”
“You don ‘t want to do that.” I stay immobile, hoping not to set her off. I want to keep her attention on me and away from the others, along with Gayle, giving Matt—and I hope, Al—an opening to jump our two felons. “The FBI is already on the way, Marie. Your time on the run is over. Put the gun down.”
I see the instant her expression changes, see her shaking hand steady. As Gayle steps closer to her, once again urging her to shoot me, two things happen at once—Al strikes out and punches him, knocking him sideways, and Marie says, “You bitch.”
With my instincts fully in control, I’m quicker than her trigger finger, and as the gun goes off, I dive sideways.
Matt tackles Marie, knocking her into the refrigerator and snatching the gun away. Al and Gayle wrestle behind them, Al administering another punch that leaves Gayle unconscious. Matt snags plastic zip ties from a back pocket and trusses up Marie with several swift moves.
Her caterwauling starts all over again. Gayle blinks his eyes open as Matt hands Al another for his wrists.
I wheel around to my mom and sister. “Is everyone okay?” I ask over the ear-grating noise.
“Oh Charlie.” Meg grips me hard in a tight hug. “We’re fine.”
Sirens sound in the distance, and I heave a sigh of relief. I glance at Mom and see she’s frozen in place, watching the two men shift Gayle and Marie to the sink cabinet, forcing them to sit side-by-side. Then she stalks over and slaps Marie, knocking her into Gayle.
“You’re the bitch,” she says, voice jerky. She raises a hand to deliver another blow. “You ever threaten one of my daughters again, I’ll wipe the deck with you.”
I snag her raised hand, and Meg and I, together, draw her into the living room. We exchange hugs, and as the police, then Taylor and several FBI agents, pull up, we sag down on the sofa, a blue tweed that’s as stuck in the past as our felons have been.
With great satisfaction, Mom watches as Gayle and his girlfriend are led out in handcuffs.
Taylor lets me know she’s bringing Al in. He’s not under arrest—yet—but she does want to question him. He gives all three of us a hang-dog look. Mom tells him everything’ll be okay.
I hope it will.
As we stand on the front porch and watch the cars pulling away, Gayle glares at us from the backseat of a cruiser. I put my arm around Mom’s shoulders.
Meg encircles her waist from the other side, and the three of us share a moment as we watch our investigation come to a satisfying end.
26
Meg
It’s late.
Well, not late-late, but by nine, I should be at one of our respective homes, snuggled up to Jerome.
Instead, I’m seated on the stool in my office studying a cast of a skull delivered three hours ago by a sheriff from New Jersey.
Another cold case. Another victim needing our services.
I’m okay with it. Excited even. It’s time for me to stop chasing creepy neighbors and get my hands back into clay. All this running around is Charlie’s deal. Not mine.
The reconstructions are important. A few months ago, I’d stay up all night with this. Now, for the first time, I’m lacking the desperation to push beyond my emotional limits.
I have Jerome now. A positive outlet that allows me to enjoy the present and, well, just being. Standing still and breathing.
It’s a good life.
