Karin Slaughter - Indelible

"Damn," Possum said.

Jeffrey reached for another beer. Possum's hand caught his, and he told Jeffrey, "Maybe you oughtta pace yourself."

"I've already got a mama."

"She's as good a reason as any to slow down a bit."

Before he could stop himself, Jeffrey punched Possum in the jaw. His aim was off, but the power behind his fist was enough for Possum to lose his balance and fall back against the store safe.

"Ow!" Possum said, more surprised than outraged. He put his hand to his mouth and looked at the blood. "Jesus, Slick, you near about broke my tooth."

Jeffrey raised his fist to hit him again, but the look in Possum's eye stopped him. Possum wouldn't hit back. He never hit back. He never got angry and he never thought anything Jeffrey did was wrong.

Jeffrey reached into his pocket and took out a couple of tens for the beer.

"No," Possum said, pushing the money away even as blood dribbled down his chin. "Forget about it."

"I pay my own way," Jeffrey said, throwing the money on the counter. He picked up the remaining bottles and the other six-pack.

"Listen, Slick, lemme give you a ride -"

"Fuck off," Jeffrey said, pushing him away.

Still, Possum followed him to the door, saying, "You don't need to be driving like this."

"Like what?" Jeffrey asked, opening the passenger door to Robert's truck. He put the beer in and walked around to the driver's side, his foot catching on a loose bit of pavement. He grabbed the hood ornament, keeping himself up.

Possum said, "Jeffrey, come on."

Jeffrey climbed in behind the wheel, feeling his eyes blur as the world turned upside down. The truck turned over with a rewarding purr, and he pulled out of the parking lot, jerking the wheel at the last minute so he would not take out the gas pumps.

2:50 P.M.

Molly climbed into the passenger's seat of the ambulance, looking Lena up and down. "They didn't have a tighter shirt?"

"Guess not," Lena said, knowing the other woman was trying to lighten things up but unable to play along. Her hands were sweating and her nerve, usually as strong as steel, was failing her. Things would be okay once she got inside the station. Lena was the type of person who faced her fears head-on. Jitters were understandable, but once the show was on, she would be ready to perform.

Molly took a deep breath. When she let it go, her shoulders dropped like a deflating balloon. Her stethoscope was wrapped around her neck, and she grabbed either end in her fists and said, "All right, I'm ready."

Lena tried to put the key in the ignition, but she could not keep her hand steady enough. After a couple of tries, Molly leaned over, saying, "Here."

"It's from the scars," Lena said as the ignition caught. "Nerve damage."

"Does it bother you much?"

Lena gassed the engine, feeling the vibrations through the floor. "No," she said, then, "Sometimes."

"Did they have you do physical therapy?"

Lena did not understand why they were having this stupid conversation, but she kept it up as she put the ambulance in gear, liking the chatter. "About three months," she said. "Paraffin soaks, playing with a tennis ball, putting pegs in holes."

"For dexterity," Molly said, staring straight ahead at the street.

"Yeah," Lena said. The Grant Medical Center was less than three hundred yards from the police station, but the closer they got, the farther away it seemed. Lena felt like they were following a tunnel into a black hole.

"I had to do PT for my knee a while back," Molly said. "Hurt it running up the stairs after my youngest."

"You have two kids?"

"Two boys," she said, a note of pride to her voice.

Lena steered the van over a steel plate covering a hole in the road, the heavy ambulance barely registering the rough terrain. She wondered if there was a baby growing inside of her, and whether it was a boy or a girl. What would happen if she had a kid? If she married Ethan, she would never be able to get away from him.

Molly said, "Twins."

"Shit," Lena said, though not for the reason Molly was probably thinking. Twins. Twice as much responsibility. Twice as much danger. Twice as much pain.

"You okay?" Molly asked again.

"It's my birthday today," Lena said, not really paying attention to where she was going.

"That so?"

"Yep."

Molly said, "Here should be a good spot," and Lena realized she had nearly passed the station. Nick had said not to block the door, but they had figured the best place to park would be closer to the dress shop, not the college.

Lena considered backing up, but it was too late. "Guess it'll have to do."

"Right," Molly said, rubbing her hands on her thighs. "Well, this should be routine, right? Just go in with the food and get out with Marla, yes?"

"Yes," Lena agreed, her hand slipping on the gearshift as she put the van in park. She cursed under her breath, trying to psych herself into doing this. She was never afraid of things. Lena had seen more horror in the last few years than anyone should see in a lifetime. What did she have to be afraid of? What was waiting in that building that could be worse than what had happened to her two years ago?

"Listen," Molly began, a tinge of hesitancy to her voice. "Nick told me not to tell you this…"

Lena waited.

"Standard procedure is to have a time limit. If we don't come out, they come in."

"Why didn't he want me to know?"

"Because he was afraid they would find out," she said, meaning the gunmen.

"Right," Lena said, understanding. Nick didn't trust her to be in there. He had said as much to Amanda Wagner. He thought she was going to do something stupid, something that would get them all killed. Maybe she would. Maybe without even thinking, Lena would screw this up like she had screwed up everything else in her life. Maybe this was it. The end of everything.

"We'll be okay," Molly said, reaching over and taking Lena's hand.

For lack of anything better to do, Lena looked at her watch.

Molly followed suit, saying, "We synchronized mine to his," as she showed Lena the large Snoopy watch she wore. Lena adjusted her digital watch to Molly's, wondering if this would come to anything.

"They'll come in exactly forty minutes after we walk through the door." She checked her watch again. "I guess that'll be 3:32."

Lena said, "Okay."

Molly put her hand on the door handle. "We'll get you back in time for your party."

"Party?" Lena asked, wondering what the hell she meant.

"For your birthday," Molly reminded her. She opened the door a few inches. "Ready?"

Lena nodded, not trusting herself to speak. They both got out of the van and met at the back, where Wagner's men had loaded boxes of cold water and prewrapped sandwiches they had gotten from one of the gas stations on the outskirts of town. As they walked toward the station, Lena concentrated on the sandwiches. She read the labels, wondering who would actually pay money for a ham salad sandwich on white bread. The expiration date on the pack read three months from now. There were probably enough preservatives in one bite to pickle a horse.

"Here we go," Molly said, just as the door was pushed open from the inside.

Lena suppressed a gag as Matt's body flopped back onto the ground. What was left of his head made a splattering sound as it hit the concrete, blood and brain spilling out onto the sidewalk. Most of his face was gone, his left eye dangling from a nerve like a fake Halloween mask. The bottom part of his jaw was exposed, and she could see everything – his teeth, his lolling tongue, the way the tendons and muscles held the whole thing in place.

"Slow," said the man standing just inside the doorway. He was wearing a black knit ski mask that had almond-shaped slits for the eyes and mouth but no nose. He reminded Lena of something out of a horror movie, and she felt a cold shock of fear that nearly paralyzed her. Frank had not mentioned masks. The men had put them on specifically to hide their identity from the paramedics. What that meant for the hostages who had already seen them, Lena did not know.