J. Konrath - Fuzzy Navel

Harry returns with a pair of handcuffs. Jackie snicks a bracelet onto his wrist, and then they drag Munchel across the floor over to the workbench.

Perfect, Munchel thinks.

Harry tries to pull Munchel’s fist away from his burning gut. Munchel fights it as hard as he can.

“Please! I’ll bleed to death!”

“Don’t worry about it. We’ll get the stains up with some bleach.”

Harry wrestles his hand away, but again the cop stops him.

“Just cuff the other end to the leg of the bench. It weighs a ton. He’s not going anywhere.”

Harry obeys, locking the cuff around one of the metal pipe legs, above a crossbeam so Munchel can’t lift the leg to escape.

But Munchel has another way to escape. The real reason he wants his hand free is because he spotted something under the bench, next to a cat litter box, only a few feet away.

A revolver.

Munchel should be able to reach it if he stretches. Then he can shoot away the cuffs, kill everyone in the house, and use Pessolano’s truck to get to a hospital.

But he can’t do it while he’s being watched. Everyone has to leave the garage first, give him a little privacy.

James Michael Munchel groans again, biding time until he gets his chance.

MUNCHEL’S DESERT EAGLE is predictably empty, but Harry’s has two bullets left. After I make several threats, he reluctantly gives me one.

“This sharing thing is new to me, sis.”

I eye him. “You accepted this whole sister thing pretty quickly, don’t you think?”

He shrugs. “Give a starving man a cracker, it’s a banquet.”

That’s more insight than I thought Harry capable of, but I figure we can hold off on this discussion until we get our blood tests. And I have a couple of drinks in me.

“You okay?” I ask Mom.

She nods. “I’m going to check on Latham and Herb. Which one of you is going on the roof?”

“Jackie is.” Harry chews his lower lip. “Heights scare me, Mom.”

I put my hands on my hips. “Give me a break. Do you remember riding in a helicopter not too long ago?”

He nods. “I remember. It scared me.”

“I’m not leaving my mother alone, McGlade.”

“I’ll watch her.”

“I’ll watch her. You’ll get your ass up on the roof.”

“We can play rock, scissors, paper, to decide,” Harry says.

“That’s ridiculous.”

“It’s fair. You ready? On three.”

I can’t believe I’m doing this. “Fine, Harry. One… two… three.”

I hold out my fist. Rock.

Harry holds up his metal claw.

“Paper covers rock, Jackie. I win.”

“That’s not paper!”

“You want to discriminate because I’m differently abled?”

I consider popping him in the nose with my rock, but that isn’t going to get him on the roof. I turn to my mother for support, but she shakes her head.

“You kids work it out amongst yourselves,” she says.

I consider calling Harry a name, like sissy or coward, but I hold off. The sissy coward just saved my life, so the insult probably won’t stick.

“Fine,” I say. “I’ll go.”

“Don’t be sore, Jackie.” Harry raises his prosthesis. “Want to try two out of three?”

I stick my finger in his face. “Just protect Mom, McGlade.”

“No problemo.”

I give Harry my back, leaning down over Munchel. Ignoring the perp’s protests of agony, I turn him over and unbuckle his holster. Then I slide it off of him and cinch it around my waist. There’s a surreal quality to my actions, the combination of unremitting pain and fatigue. This has been an intense night, and it isn’t over yet.

The Desert Eagle goes in the holster, and I take a deep, steadying breath.

“I’ll need help getting up on the roof,” I say to McGlade. “Or do I have to ask Mom to give me a boost?”

Harry smiles. “I’m here for you, sis. Let’s do this.”

“What about him?” Mom asks, indicating Munchel.

I look at the holes in the garage door, and the broken window on the side wall. Too many ways to see inside here, too many angles Alex can attack from.

“He stays here. But I want you in the bathroom, Mom. It’s safer.”

The three of us walk back into the kitchen, keeping our distance from the living room window. But the lights are on, and I catch a glimpse of the dead sniper lying by the front door in an incredibly large pool of blood.

“I forgot to mention,” Harry says, “it looks like our buddy Alex found a rifle.”

I escort Mom quickly down the hall, peek in on the boys, find them still alive, and press on to the laundry room, where I left the flashlight. I stick it in my holster belt, then stop by the bathroom again on my way back.

“I’ll just be a few minutes,” I say to Mom. “This is almost over.”

“I hope so, Jacqueline. This might not be the right time, but I’m thinking about moving back into the city. Would that be okay?”

I smile. “We’ll call a Realtor in the morning, Mom. Stay put. Harry will be by soon.”

We hug again, and I hurry back to the kitchen. Harry is at the kitchen table, holding his cell phone.

“Just erasing the picture of your head,” he says. “And another one I took up your skirt when you weren’t looking.”

I open the patio door and step outside, Harry in tow. The night has continued to cool off, and the wind blows through my hair and makes me shiver. It feels good, clean, almost energizing. Hopefully it will be energizing enough to get me on the roof.

“I’m going to climb up onto the veranda,” I tell Harry.

We push a lawn chair to the corner of the patio, and I stand on it. Harry braces himself against the post and bends down. I step onto his back and get my chin up over the top of the veranda. On any other night, I could have easily pulled myself up. But this small effort by itself has turned the world into a carousel, spinning me around and around. I take a few seconds to control my wobbling.

“Anytime now,” Harry grunts.

“You have to lift higher.”

He straightens his back, and I rise another few inches. It still isn’t enough.

“Push me up with your hand,” I say. Then I add, “Your real one.”

The aforementioned hand lands solidly on my ass, and he squeezes. I freeze up.

“McGlade, there’s so much wrong with what you’re doing right now.”

“I’m not enjoying it either, Jackie. You’re not exactly heroin chic.”

Fighting words. “Are you saying I’m fat?”

“No. Of course not. You’re… what’s the opposite of anorexic?”

I remind myself I only have one bullet and need to save it.

“Never discuss a woman’s weight with her, Harry.”

“Tell that to the loop of intestines bulging out of my side. It’s so big I can twist it into balloon animals.”

He grips lower, onto my thigh, and lifts. This is enough for me to get my upper body onto the veranda. But I’m having a little trouble swinging my leg up.

“Okay, Harry. Push on my-”

“Oh shit!”

Suddenly McGlade is gone and I’m alone, legs dangling. I slap my palms against the wooden slats of veranda top, trying to find something to grab hold of. All I find are splinters. If Alex is down there with Harry, I’m an easy target with my ass hanging over the ledge. I reach for the holster, ready to drop down and-

“Sorry, Jackie.” Harry is beneath me again, his hand pushing against my feet. “Your damn cat just ran past me, into the house. Scared the hell out of me.”

He shoves me, and I manage to finally get my whole body up onto the veranda. I lie on my back for a moment, staring at the stars in the night sky. My heart is beating wildly, and I try to summon up enough saliva so I can swallow.