Лиза Гарднер - Before She Disappeared

Angelique is clearly on high alert. Because of the commotion I’ve made, or because she knows she and her brother still aren’t safe?

I want to say her name. I want to march in the room and declare, “My name is Frankie Elkin and I hereby rescue you.”

Except I’m terribly aware that a key individual is missing. Frédéric Lagudu, the center’s executive director and the voice I heard on the radio. So where the hell is he?

Angelique darts behind her brother, plucking at the knots on his wrists. And several things happen at once.

She looks up, spots me.

I hold a finger to my lips, gesturing for her to be silent as I heft up my bat.

She shakes her head frantically.

And I’m tackled from behind, the baseball bat flying from my grasp.

“You stupid bitch!”

I barely get my arms out in time to break my fall, then Frédéric is upon me, pressing down against my back, pinning me into place. His hand tangles into my hair, jerking my head back.

I buck helplessly, but I can’t get him off. He’s too heavy, and with my arms trapped beneath me, I can’t reach the gun at my waist, nor the bat rolling across the floor. He slams my face against the floor.

I hear a crack, my nose bursting into a bloody mess, my forehead ringing in stunning pain. Then he yanks up my head again, preparing for the second blow as my eyes water and my mouth fills with blood. He’s going to kill me. I am dying.

Not a bullet after all. How interesting.

“No, no, no!”

I hear Angelique’s voice. Then sense her running approach. Save yourself , I want to yell at her, but I can’t manage the words.

She barrels into my attacker, the weight lifting from my back as Frédéric topples to the side.

I roll away, staggering to my feet, trying desperately to get my bearings. The bat—where is it? Or the gun? It must’ve fallen from my waist because now I can’t find it.

“I hate you!” Angelique is scrabbling with Frédéric. He’s bigger, stronger. But she’s incensed, smacking at his head and face. An older sister, desperate to save her brother. A girlfriend, mourning her partner’s murder.

It’s not enough. With a twist of his arm, Frédéric throws her off.

“Goddammit.”

“Angelique!” I cry.

She barely gets her hands up before Frédéric socks her in the face, followed by a quick jab to her kidneys. She doubles over in pain, while I continue frantically searching the floor. Bat. Gun. Bat. Gun. My head is ringing, my vision blurred.

A fresh sound. Emmanuel, now awake. Emmanuel, still bound hand and foot, desperately trying to inchworm his way to his sister’s side.

“Angelique!” he screams.

Frédéric wallops her again and again.

“No,” I say helplessly, still staggering about.

Frédéric materializes before me. And now he’s the one with the gun. Sighting me, then Angelique’s weeping form, then Emmanuel’s bound figure.

It’s over. I can see it on his face. Simply a matter of whom to shoot first.

“Me,” I hear myself say. “Shoot me. The kids are no threat to you.”

“You bitch. You shouldn’t have come back here.”

“The police are on their way. Run now, while you have the chance. I’ll lie. Leave Angelique and Emmanuel alone, and I’ll send the police in the opposite direction. I promise.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does. Deke told us everything, about the website, the fake student visas, Livia’s murder. It’s over now. Take your profits and get out.”

“I still have my prize.” Frédéric grabs Angelique by the arm, forcing her to stand. She gasps in pain. Her face is bloody, but in her eyes I see a fierce light of determination, or maybe it’s simply hatred for this man. It doesn’t matter, I’ll take either, as I finally spy the bat. Two feet behind her to the left. Too far for me to reach, but maybe not for her. If I can just distract Frédéric, buy Angelique a moment of time.

My gaze, darting to the bat, back to her, the bat. Her eyes widen slightly. I think she understands. I remember what Emmanuel said: His sister doesn’t dream, she plans. And I think that I’m very sorry I’ll never get to meet this amazing young woman, because there’s only one way I can think to grab Frédéric’s attention, and it doesn’t end so well for me.

Emmanuel, whimpering from the floor. Angelique, tensing in anticipation.

Frédéric, raising his gun.

And me . . .

I’m back in a liquor store, ten years ago. A young kid, sweating in desperation and shaking with withdrawal, waving a pistol all about. “Give me your money! All of it, now!”

Except I don’t have any money. I just spent the last of it on a bottle of vodka, right before I broke and called Paul and begged him, all these months later, to come save me from myself. Now the store clerk is wide-eyed and anxious.

Only Paul is calm, as he steps forward, raises his arms in a placating motion. “Easy now. No need for anyone to get hurt.”

Did the kid mean to pull the trigger? Or did it just happen? All these years later, I still don’t know. I just remember the sound of the gunshot. The look of horror on the kid’s face. And the look of surprise on Paul’s as he sank down, down, down.

The kid fled out the door.

And Paul . . .

Paul.

Now, I keep my eyes open. I want to see it coming. I want to watch death finally find me.

As I look Frédéric right in the eye, and charge forward. A split second where I register the shock in his face. He isn’t expecting it. He jerks the trigger wildly, releasing Angelique as he braces for contact.

She rolls to the side. Please grab the bat , I think—as I register pain, so much fucking pain. I drop, rolling across the floor, keep rolling.

Bang, bang, bang.

Screaming. Angelique’s, my own, Emmanuel’s.

Followed by a new booming voice. “Stop! Police! Lower your weapon!”

Lotham explodes into the classroom, leading with his pistol.

Frédéric pivots wildly, caught off guard by this fresh threat. Angelique appears behind him, bat raised high.

“LiLi,” Emmanuel cries.

“Police!” Lotham shouts again.

Paul is down. Paul is bleeding.

No, it’s me now. I am down, I am bleeding.

Angelique swings the bat. She connects with the side of his head, but not quite hard enough. Frédéric turns, gun still in hand . . .

And Lotham takes him out. Bang, bang, bang.

Angelique drops the bat. “Emmanuel! Please help my brother.”

“LiLi! Are you okay? LiLi!”

More pounding footsteps. Cops pouring into the room, flooding down the hall. I should say something, I should move. But I can’t seem to get to my feet. I can’t seem to find my voice. An unbelievable pressure is building in my chest.

Then Lotham is kneeling over me.

“Hold on there, Frankie. Just hold on. I got you.”

“Angelique,” I whisper. “Emmanuel.”

“You did it, Frankie. You found her. You rescued both of them. They’re safe.”

“Paul,” I say.

“He’d be very proud of you.”

I start to cry then. Blood and tears. Past and present. Old wounds and fresh scars.

“I got you, Frankie. I got you,” Lotham reassures me.

And I believe him.

CHAPTER 37

I’m in the hospital for a matter of days. I don’t remember much. A blur of pain as I fight the doctor’s orders for morphine, screaming that I’m an addict. Lotham might be there. Or maybe it’s Charlie, Viv, Stoney. At one point, I’m convinced even Piper has paid a visit.

I don’t have insurance, which means once the bullet is removed from my left shoulder and the wound patched on my right arm, I’m back out the door. This time it’s Lotham who definitely does the honors of picking me up, driving me back to Stoney’s and leading me upstairs.