Karen Rose - Count to Ten

"I'll go. Thanks for the heads-up." Reed pocketed his cell phone. But first, he'd talk to Beth. He took the stairs two at a time, then knocked on her door. Loud music played inside and he couldn't hear her answer. "Beth? I need to talk to you."

"Go away."

He jiggled the door, found it locked. "I need to talk to you. Open the door. Now."

After about a minute, the door opened and she stood there staring up at him, belligerence in her dark eyes, still red and puffing from crying. "What?"

Gently he reached out to push some wet hair from her cheek. She flinched and pulled away, which hurt him more than her words had. "Beth. Please tell me what's wrong. I can't understand if I don't know."

"It's nothing. I'm just tired."

Helpless and frustrated, he frowned. "Are you sick? Do we need to see a doctor?"

Her smile was bitter and far too adult. "Are you asking me if I need a shrink? Don't think so, Dad. You're the one who's always saying what a crock they are."

He winced, her aim true. "I have said that. Maybe I shouldn't have. Maybe there are lots of things I should do differently. I can't know unless you talk to me, baby."

Her eyes flashed. "I'm not a baby." Then her eyes went sad, but he could see the slyness beneath. "You could let me go to the sleepover. That would make me happier."

He stepped back, the hair on the back of his neck standing straight up. This wasn't his child. This manipulating stranger belonged to somebody else. "No. I said you were on restriction and nothing you've said makes me change my mind. In fact, just the opposite. I don't know what's so important about this sleepover, but no, you cannot go. Starting now, I don't want you going over to Jenny's anymore."

Her nostrils flared, her breath deliberate. "You're blaming her. She said you would." She stepped back, her hand on the door. "Are you finished ruining my life?"

He shook his head, having no words. "Beth. I have to go out for a few minutes. We'll finish this when I come back."

"Don't bother," she said coldly. "I'll be asleep when you come back." Then she closed the door in his face.

He shoved his hand through his hair, cupping the back of his head as if to hold it in place. What was wrong with his child? Was it just a temper tantrum? Or could it be more? Something… worse? But he couldn't believe that. Beth was a smart girl. A good kid. She was only fourteen. But he knew what fourteen-year-olds could get involved in, from personal experience. But this was Beth. She wasn't the kid of an alcoholic drug-addict who cared more for her next fix then feeding her son.

Beth was lucky. She has me . He sighed. And right now, she hates me . He didn't know what to do. He felt like breaking down her door, but knew that wouldn't solve a thing. He needed help. He'd call her guidance counselor first thing in the morning.

Now he had to see a woman who would probably make him feel as welcome as his daughter just had. "You should just give it up, Solliday," he muttered as he walked down the stairs and grabbed his coat. He passed Lauren coming across the front yard as he walked out. "I have to go out," he snapped. "Beth's in her room."

"Did you talk to her?" Lauren asked, a canvas book bag over one shoulder.

"For all the good it did. I'm calling her school counselor tomorrow."

"That's a good idea."

"I'll be back later." He stalked toward the SUV, churlish and embarrassed for it.

"Reed?"

He stopped. Didn't turn around. "What?"

"Take off the chain before you get there."

Without looking back he climbed in the SUV, pulled out of the driveway and around the block. Then he slowed down and pulled the chain from around his neck, stared at the ring in his palm, then carefully laid it in the console next to his seat. "Shit."

Thursday, November 30, 8:45 p.m.

There she was. He came to his feet in the alley across the street, slinging his backpack onto his back. It paid to travel light. If he had to run, he had everything he needed. The car he"d taken was parked a block away, close enough to get to once he did the deed. Then Melvin Getts would be on the news. Not me .

Mitchell was getting out of her car across the street, a briefcase on one shoulder. She stood for a moment, alert, scanning the area, but he was tucked out of her sight in the shadows. She was a perfect target, her head in just the right position. His hand steady, he pointed the gun. From this distance, he couldn't miss. He aimed-

An SUV pulled up beside her, blocking his shot. Dammit . Lieutenant Solliday.

Solliday lowered his window and they were talking, but not loudly enough for him to hear what they were saying. Solliday sat back, scanning the street as she had done.

Shit. She was going up to her apartment. Who knew when she'd come back down? It could be two minutes or twenty. Hell, it could be all night. He had places to go. Doughertys to kill. He couldn't stay here waiting for her. Dammit . It was now or never. It was now. He stepped out of the shadows and raised the pistol. And fired.

"Police! Drop your weapon."

He lurched back. The shout hadn't come from Mitchell or Solliday. Mitchell was nowhere to be seen and Solliday was out of his vehicle, his own gun drawn. Shit .

He backed up, one step, then two. His heart stopped when Solliday spotted him.

"Stop." Solliday was coming at a run. A fast run.

Get away . He turned and fled.

Mia pushed herself to her feet, her radio in one hand, weapon in the other. "Shots fired at 1342 Sedgewick Place. Plain clothes officer in pursuit. Request backup ASAP."

She stood in the street, making her mind focus through the adrenaline blur. Someone had yelled, right after the shot was fired, but the street was empty. She pressed the radio to her forehead, then back to her mouth. "Solliday." When he didn't answer panic began to grip her throat and she began to run. " Solliday ."

"I'm here." His voice came crackling across the radio and she stopped, breathing hard, light-headed with relief. "I lost him," he growled. "Get an APB out on White."

She froze. "What?"

"White. Math Boy. Hurry, Mia. He's still on foot around here somewhere."

He tried to kill me . "This is Detective Mitchell, homicide. We are in pursuit of a Caucasian male, approximately twenty-five years of age. Five-eight, one hundred fifty pounds. Blond hair, blue eyes. Suspect is armed and wanted in connection with four murders. Goes by the name of Devin White. Repeat, suspect is armed."

"We read you, Detective," Dispatch said. "Do you need medical attention?"

"No. Just send backup. We need to seal off this entire neighborhood. He escaped on foot, so send a unit to the El station two blocks south of here." She looked up to see Solliday emerging from the alley at a jog. He stopped short, eyes going fierce.

"You're hit."

She lifted her hand to her cheek, wiped at the blood here. "Grazed me. I'm fine."

He lifted her chin, nodded once, then let her go. "Who yelled 'Police'?"

"Don't know." She turned in a circle, looking. "That was Math Boy? You're sure?"

He nodded, still breathing hard. "Yeah. Fast little bastard. I almost had him and he darted around some trash cans and knocked them into my path."

"You were pretty fast yourself."

"Not fast enough. He's given us the slip again."

"We'll set up roadblocks." Her instinct said someone was still there. "But the El is only two blocks from here. He could be there now. He could still be here. Dammit, I feel like somebody's watching…" A noise behind her had her spinning around, her weapon in a two-handed grip. "Come out with your hands up."

"I'll be damned," Solliday murmured and Mia blinked.

From out of the shadows, near where White had escaped walked… her . Her blond head was covered with a black beret and instead of dark suit she'd worn at the press conference, she wore a black leather jacket, identical to the one Mia had been wearing the night Abe was shot. Her lips were curved in a self-mocking smile. In one hand she held a pistol, but flat against her raised palm. The other hand held a badge.