Robert Crais - Hostage

Jennifer’s rear end bumped into her desk. She had gone as far as she could and now Mars was very close. He touched the nail to her chest, tap-tap.

“Don’t touch me.”

Tap-tap.

“Stop it.”

Tap.

“Kevin’s gone. Dennis is gone. Your father is gone. The little fat boy, he’s gone, too. Now we can have fun.”

He pressed the nail onto her chest, a steady pressure that hurt but did not break her skin. Jennifer tried to lean away, but there was nowhere to go. Mars raked the nail slowly down between her breasts. Jennifer stared into his eyes, watching him watch her, her vision blurred with tears. His eyes were black pools, their surface rippled by secret winds. He knew he was doing something bad; he knew he was being naughty. He didn’t watch the nail; she sensed that his pleasure came in seeing her fear. Jennifer slid her hand down along her belly. She worked her fingers beneath the waist of her pants, searching for the knife. He pushed the nail harder. He was breathing harder. She wanted to scream.

“Do you like this?”

Jennifer jerked the knife free and stabbed, striking out blindly, trying to force him away. The stiff short blade struck something hard. Mars grunted in surprised pain, like a dog coughing, as they both looked down. The knife was buried high on his chest in his left shoulder.

Mars whimpered, a pathetic moan, his face knotted with pain.

Jennifer pushed at him, screaming, trying to get away, but he didn’t move. He grabbed her throat, squeezing hard, pressing his hips into hers to pin her to the desk.

He grabbed the knife with his free hand, whimpered again, then pulled out the blade. A crimson flower blossomed from the wound.

He looked back into her eyes, then brought the knife to her face. He squeezed harder, cutting off her breath.

“You’re going to enjoy this.”

Jennifer felt herself fainting.

DENNIS

The scream from the rear of the house cut through the alcohol, surprising Dennis more than startling him. It was high-pitched like a girl shrieking, followed by bumping, slamming noises that came from the far side of the kitchen near the garage. Dennis pulled out his gun, shouting.

“What the fuck was that? Who is that?”

It couldn’t be Mars, who had just left, or the two kids, who were both upstairs unless that chickenshit Kevin had taken them. Maybe Kevin had returned.

“Kev? Is that you, you asshole?”

Dennis turned on his flashlight and swept the light beam across the kitchen. No one answered and nothing moved.

“Goddamnit, who’s there?”

No one answered.

Dennis flashed the light toward the French doors, paranoid with the notion that the police were tricking him.

“Talley?”

Nothing.

Dennis pushed the gun ahead of him and eased through the kitchen toward the garage.

“Is that you, fat boy?”

Nothing.

“Kevin, if that’s you, say something, goddamnit. Mars said you left.” Nothing.

Dennis stepped into the pantry, shining the light through into the laundry room beyond. The floor was covered with a growing red stain that oozed toward him. Dennis frowned, not understanding. He took a step closer, then another. He saw his brother on the floor. Dennis lowered the gun, and straightened.

“Kevin, what the fuck? Get up.”

A deep trembling started at his center, filling him, growing until his entire body shook and the light beam danced mindlessly around the small room.

“Kevin, get up.”

Dennis walked on mile-long legs without feeling. It was hard to keep his balance. He stopped at the edge of the pool of blood and shined the light on his brother. He saw the open neck, the grotesque white bone within the flesh, the wide, staring eyes. Dennis turned off the light.

The fat boy and the girl could not have done this.

Mars.

Mars lied.

Mars killed Kevin.

Dennis backed out of the pantry into the kitchen, then ran for the stairs.

“Mars!”

He took the stairs two at a time, intent only on finding Mars, killing him. Halfway up, he heard the girl scream.

“MARS!”

Dennis slammed into the girl’s door, shoving it open so hard that it crashed against the wall. Mars had the girl by her throat, pinned against her desk. Dennis aimed his gun.

“You’re dead, you fuck.”

Mars calmly pulled the girl in front of him, blocking Dennis’s aim. Dennis saw the knife and the growing bloodstain on Mars’s left shoulder.

Mars smiled at Dennis with wide-eyed innocence.

“What’s wrong, dude? What are you so pissed off about?”

Dennis could see the terror on the girl’s face, her eyes swollen and red. She managed a word.

“Please.”

Dennis raised his gun. He didn’t want to shoot past her, but he wanted that fucker Mars square between the eyes. He wanted to make Mars scream.

“This fuck killed Kevin. He cut his damned throat. There’s blood everywhere.”

Like he needed her absolution.

The girl closed her eyes and cried harder.

Dennis should have been ready, but he wasn’t. He should have pulled the trigger, but he didn’t.

And then it was too late.

Mars lifted the girl by the neck and rushed forward, charging Dennis, crossing the short space in no time at all. Dennis hesitated only a heartbeat because he didn’t want to shoot the girl, but that was too long. The girl crashed into him, the full force of Mars’s weight behind her, knocking Dennis backward into the hall. Then the girl was cast aside, Mars was on top of him, and Dennis saw a glint off the knife as it came down.

THOMAS

Rational thought was beyond him; he was filled with a suffocating fear that drove him to run, to get out, to move . Thomas did not know that he screamed. He slipped in the blood, falling hard into the red pool, then slipped again as he climbed onto the washer. He clambered up into the crawl space, cutting his hands and knees as he scrambled across the rafters. He couldn’t move fast enough, once banging his head so hard that he saw bright flashes. He had the gun now. He could save himself. His only thought was to reach Jennifer. The two of them would run downstairs and out the door, and neither Mars nor Dennis could stop them. He had the gun!

Thomas heard Jennifer’s door crash open as he squeezed through the hatch into her closet. He froze, listening, and heard voices. Dennis was shouting at Mars. Mars was holding Jennifer as Dennis faced him, shouting that Mars had cut Kevin’s throat. Thomas drew the gun from his pants, big and heavy and awkward, but he didn’t know what to do. Dennis had a gun, too!

Then Mars pushed Jennifer into Dennis, and all three of them sprawled into the hall. Thomas crept into the room. Mars grunted like a pig when it eats, drool streaming from his mouth as he stabbed Dennis over and over. Jennifer was crawling away, splattered with blood.

“Jen! C’mon!”

Thomas darted past Mars into the hall, and grabbed Jennifer’s arm. He pulled her toward the stair.

“Run!”

The two of them stumbled away as Mars heaved to his feet. His eyes were wild and darting. He was bigger, stronger, faster; Thomas knew that he would catch them.

Thomas whirled around and jerked up the pistol with both hands.

“I’ll shoot you!”

Mars stopped. He was streaked with blood, and breathing hard. Blood dripped from his face. Even more blood painted the walls and floor. Dennis bubbled like a fountain and moaned.

The pistol was heavy and hard to hold. It wobbled, even though Thomas held it with both hands. Jennifer pulled at his shoulder, her voice a frightened whisper.

“Keep going. Let’s get out of here.”

They backed away, Thomas trying to hold the gun steady.