Karin Slaughter - Faithless

“Where are those papers?”

“I burned them.”

“You lying slut!” He slammed the revolver into her left cheek. Terri fell to the floor, blood sloshing out of her mouth.

Lena felt her own teeth start to ache as if Paul had hit her and not Terri. She had to do something. She had to stop this. Without thinking, she went to her knees, then flattened her chest to the floor. Procedure said she should identify herself, give Paul the opportunity to drop the gun. She knew there was no chance he would surrender. Men like Paul didn’t give up if they thought there was a chance of escape. Right now, he had two chances: one on his hip, the other on the floor.

Lena angled her body across the hall, placing herself at the top of the landing, gripping her gun in both hands, resting the butt on the edge of the stair.

“Now, now,” Paul said. His back was to Lena as he stood over Terri, Tim’s legs wrapped around his waist. She couldn’t tell where the boy’s body was, could not line up the shot and know with 100 percent certainty that she would not hit the child, too.

“You’re upsetting your son here.” Tim was silent. He had probably watched his mother get the shit beaten out of her so many times before that it no longer penetrated.

Paul said, “What did you tell the police?”

Terri had her hands out in front of her as once more Paul lifted his foot to kick her. “No!” she screamed as his Italian loafer came down on her face. Again, she slammed into the floor, the air going out of her with a painful groan that cut Lena to the core.

Again, Lena sighted the gun, her hands steady as she tried to line up the shot. If Paul would just stop moving. If Tim would just slide down a little bit more, she could end all of this now. He had no idea Lena was at the top of the stairs. Paul would be on the ground before he knew what hit him.

Paul said, “Come on, Terri.” Even though Terri made no move to rise, he picked up his foot again and smashed it into her back. Terri’s mouth opened, breath groaning out.

“What did you tell them?” he repeated, his mantra. Lena saw him move the revolver to Tim’s head and she lowered her own gun, knowing she could not take the risk. “You know I’ll shoot him. You know I will blow his little brains all over this house.”

Terri struggled to her knees. She clasped her hands in front of her, a supplicant, praying, “Please, please. Let him go. Please.”

“What did you tell them?”

“Nothing,” she said. “Nothing!”

Tim had started to cry, and Paul shushed him, saying, “Be quiet now, Tim. Be a strong man for Uncle Paul.”

“Please,” Terri begged.

Lena saw a movement out of the corner of her eye. Rebecca stood in the doorway of the nursery, poised on the threshold. Lena shook her head once, then, when the girl did not move, she hardened her expression, waving her back in forceful pantomime.

When Lena turned back to the foyer, she saw that Tim had buried his face in the crook of Paul’s shoulder. The boy’s body stiffened as he looked up and saw Lena at the top of the stairs, her gun pointing down. Their eyes locked.

Without warning, Paul whirled around, revolver raised, and fired a shot that went straight toward her head.

Terri screamed at the explosion, and Lena rolled to the side, hoping to God she was out of the line of fire as another shot rang through the house. There was a splintering of wood as the front door burst open, followed by Jeffrey’s “Don’t move!” but Lena heard it as if from a great distance, the sound of the bullet ringing in her ear. She wasn’t sure whether it was sweat or blood that dribbled down the side of her cheek as she looked back over the stairs. Jeffrey was standing in the foyer, his gun pointed at the lawyer. Paul still held Tim tight to his chest, the revolver trained at the boy’s temple.

“Let him go,” Jeffrey ordered, his eyes darting up to Lena.

Lena put her hand to her head, recognized the sticky feel of blood. Her ear was covered in it, but she couldn’t feel any pain.

Terri was crying, keening, as she held her hands to her stomach, begging Paul to release her child. She sounded as if she was praying.

Jeffrey told Paul, “Lower your gun.”

“Not going to happen,” he quipped.

“You’ve got nowhere to go,” Jeffrey said, again looking up at Lena. “We’ve got you surrounded.”

Paul let his gaze follow Jeffrey’s. Lena made an attempt to stand, but vertigo got the best of her. She settled back onto her knees, her gun down at her side. She couldn’t keep her eyes focused.

Paul said calmly, “Looks like she needs help.”

“Please,” Terri pleaded, almost in her own world. “Please, just let him go. Please.”

“There’s no way out of this for you,” Jeffrey said. “Drop the gun.”

Lena tasted something metallic in her mouth. She put her hand to her head again, testing her scalp. She didn’t feel anything alarming, but her ear started to throb. Gently, she tested the cartilage until she found out what was causing the blood. The top part of her earlobe was missing, maybe a quarter of an inch. The bullet must have grazed her.

She sat up on her knees, blinking, trying to clear her vision. Terri was looking at her, almost drilling a hole into her, eyes begging Lena to do something to stop this.

“Help him,” she implored. “Please help my baby.”

Lena wiped a trickle of blood out of her eye, finally seeing what the bulge under Paul’s jacket was. A cell phone. The bastard had a cell phone clipped to his belt.

“Please,” Terri begged. “ Lena, please.”

Lena pointed her gun at Paul’s head, feeling a searing hatred burn her throat as she told him, “Drop it.”

Paul swung around, taking Tim with him. He looked up at Lena, gauging the situation. She could tell part of him didn’t believe a woman could actually threaten him, and this made her hate him even more.

She made her voice a deadly threat. “Drop it, you bastard.”

For the first time, he looked nervous.

“Drop the gun,” Lena repeated, keeping her hand steady as she rose to her feet. If she could have been sure of her shot, she would’ve killed him there and then, unloaded her magazine into his head until there was nothing but a stump of spine sticking out.

Jeffrey said, “Do it, Paul. Drop the gun.”

Slowly, Paul lowered his gun, but instead of letting it fall to the ground, he trained it on Terri’s head. He knew they wouldn’t shoot him as long as he had Tim as a shield. Pointing the gun at Terri was just one more way to assert his control over the situation.

He said, “I think y’all should take your own advice.”

Terri sat there on the floor, her hands reaching out to her son. She pleaded, “Don’t hurt him, Paul.” Tim tried to go to his mother but Paul held him tight. “Please don’t hurt him.”

Paul backed toward the front door, saying, “Put down your guns. Now.”

Jeffrey watched him, not doing anything for several beats. Finally, he put his weapon on the floor and held up his hands, showing they were empty. “Backup’s on the way.”

“Not fast enough,” he guessed.

Jeffrey said, “Don’t do this, Paul. Just leave him here.”

“So you can follow me?” Paul sneered, shifting Tim on his hip. The child had realized what was going on and his breath was coming hard, like he was having trouble getting air. Paul kept moving closer to the door, oblivious to the boy’s pain. “I don’t think so.” He looked up at Lena. “Your turn, Detective .”

Lena waited for Jeffrey’s nod before crouching down to place her gun on the floor. She stayed low, keeping close to the weapon.

Tim’s breathing was more labored, and he started making a whooping sound as he struggled to inhale.