Daniel Palmer - Helpless

“Kids can make stupid mistakes,” Roland said. “You and I both know that.”

“Roland, you don’t have to do this. There’s another way. We can come up with something.”

Silence.

Tom’s heart pounded in his chest. Jill had come back to her senses and was struggling again. But Dee held her fast.

Roland spoke. “There’s no other way, Tom. This cleans it all up. Nobody will investigate anything now. It’ll all fall on you. You’re the guy running the sexting ring. You killed Lindsey to silence a witness. You realized all the lives you ruined. You took decisive action.”

“The angle of your shot won’t be right,” Tom said. “Forensics will pick up on that.”

“Won’t happen. I know where to hit you. But if it isn’t, I’ve got the connections to make questions go away.”

“What about the gun? Where’d I get it? Did you think of that?”

“You stole it. Stole it from me, in fact. When you broke into my house. The police report’s already been filed.”

“Why wouldn’t I use my own gun?”

Roland laughed. “You know, I thought you’d have one, being a SEAL and all. But we looked. When you were at Marvin’s funeral, Frank searched all through your house. He found the knife and put that where the police would find it. But no gun to be found.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Roland—”

“Good-bye, Tom. I really am sorry it came to this.”

“I do have a gun.” Tom fell sideways. In a single motion, he reached behind his back and pulled a gun from the waistband of his sodden jeans. The gun was remarkably well preserved, even though it had lain hidden beneath the water for fifteen years. For fifteen years, the gun had been sealed inside a waterproof dry bag. Its only companion was a stash of drugs that a young Tom Hawkins couldn’t allow to get wet and ruined.

The gun was a Beretta M9. An army private named Kip Lange had used it during a robbery gone bad. It had been fired only twice. On his way back to the Spot, Tom had checked the gun over for corrosion, to see if it still had a chance of firing. The bullets, four in total, were dry and lodged inside the magazine. Tom believed the gun would fire. But he didn’t have any proof. Just as Rainy believed in his innocence but lacked the proof. Just as Jill believed in her father enough to trust him again. Tom believed the gun would fire.

And so he pulled the trigger as he fell. There was a flash. An explosion and burst of light followed. The recoil from the thrust as the bullet dislodged from the barrel.

There was his proof.

The first bullet slammed into Roland’s shoulder. The second shot hit him in the leg. Roland fell to the ground with a thud.

Frank Dee did exactly what Tom expected of him. He acted to remove the immediate threat. Dee pulled his gun away from Jill and pointed the weapon at Tom. Tom fired two quick shots before Dee got off one.

The first bullet hit Dee in his firing hand. Dee’s gun fell to the ground as a splash of blood sprayed out from the fresh wound like a burst of red fireworks. Tom’s second shot could have been a kill shot. He had the time and skill to take aim and hit the target. But killing was in his past. So the bullet that could have flattened Dee’s skull instead tore through the man’s abdomen. Blood spurted from that hole as well. Dee fell backward to the ground.

Jill sprinted to her father as Dee was falling. Dee landed on the ground, groaning and clutching at his wounds. Tom doubted he’d hit any vital organs. Dee would live. Roland would live, too.

Killing was in his past.

Jill stumbled as she ran. Tom got to his feet and wrapped his daughter in his frozen arms. He removed the gag covering her mouth and unbound her wrists. She was hyperventilating. Couldn’t speak. She clutched Tom like a life preserver that she couldn’t grip tightly enough.

Tom went over to Roland, who was still on the ground. He dropped the Beretta into the duffel bag, then retrieved Roland’s gun, which had fallen nearby. He stared down at Roland, who was writhing in pain and covered in blood and dirt. He heard Dee groaning, too. Both threats were neutralized.

Jill kept clutched to her father’s waist. She was shivering. But he was hot with adrenaline.

“If all you wanted were the drugs, why didn’t you make any demands?” Tom said to Roland. His speech came out rapid and breathless. “Why’d you frame me for having an affair with Lindsey? Why make it look like I was running a sexting ring, but never try to blackmail me into giving up where I hid them? It doesn’t make sense. I need to know why you did it.”

“Wouldn’t you… like to know…” Roland’s words came out in spurts. He licked at his shivering lips to wet them. His breathing, labored and heavy, accentuated the rise and fall of his heaving chest.

“Yeah, I get it. You’ve got people who do it for you,” Tom said, kneeling beside Roland. “You’ve got Cortland. But my question is why?” Tom dug the barrel of the gun into the bloody mess he made of Roland’s shoulder. Roland shrieked out in pain.

“It wasn’t me!” he yelled. “I didn’t do it.”

“Bullshit,” Tom said, using the barrel to poke around for the actual bullet hole.

“I swear… it wasn’t me…. I didn’t set you up….”

Tom heard footsteps approach.

“Tom? Are you there? Tom?”

Tom looked in the direction of the voice. He saw a flashlight beam dance in the darkness. A figure emerged from the path that led to the Spot. Moonlight helped Tom to see the woman who had spoken. The voice that had come from the woods.

Adriana Boyd.

“Adriana, what are you doing here?”

“Oh, Tom,” Adriana said, racing over to him. She put a hand on his shoulder. “I found out everything. Mitchell told me everything. That’s how I knew you were here.”

Tom stood and pulled Jill up with him. “What’s going on, Adriana?”

“Roland is the one who framed you,” Adriana said. “Roland’s been framing people for sex crimes for years. I didn’t want to believe it. But the FBI came to arrest Mitchell. He confessed to everything.”

Tom kept Jill close beside him. “Are the police on their way?”

“Yes,” Adriana said. “They’re coming.”

Adriana circled the chaos about them with her flashlight beam. She shone her light on the opened duffel bag.

“What’s going on?” Adriana said. “What’s in the bag?”

“That’s what Roland is after. It’s millions of dollars’ worth of heroin that I smuggled out of Germany.”

“You?”

“Kelly and Kip Lange stole the drugs. Kelly used me as a mule. Roland orchestrated the whole heist, but Kelly never knew Roland was the man behind the scenes.”

“I see….”

Adriana strolled over to Frank Dee. Dee writhed on the ground, clutching at his bleeding abdomen. Adriana picked up Dee’s gun. She hefted it in her hands, pointed the gun at Dee’s head, and pulled the trigger.

Dee’s skull exploded in a spray of blood. Red droplets and fragments of bone lit by the moonlight fell to the ground like rain.

“Adriana!” Tom shouted. “What are you doing?”

Adriana turned and pointed Dee’s gun at Tom.

“Put your gun down, Tom,” she said, her voice calm and eerily detached. “This doesn’t concern you. But it will if you don’t toss me that gun.”

Jill clung tightly to her father. Tom tossed his weapon at Adriana’s feet. He didn’t set the safety, hoping the gun might accidentally discharge and startle Adriana. It would be enough for him to gain the advantage. To Tom’s displeasure, the gun landed with a wholly unsatisfying thud.

“Walk away. Stand over there.” Adriana motioned for Tom and Jill to move toward the quarry’s edge. She had the gun, so Tom followed her rules.