Castillo Linda - Outsider

“Ken!” she screams.

Bertrand swivels to me, raises the Glock, glances over his shoulder at Gina. “She’s next,” he roars. “Where’s the cash?”

A thousand thoughts rush my brain. Run to the door, try to get out before he shoots me in the back. Grab Mercer’s weapon. Charge Bertrand and hope he misses. All of it jumbled by fear and the knowledge none of them will work. I’m out of options and at the mercy of a psychopath.

Heart hammering, I jam my hands higher. “I know where the cash is!”

The gunshot pierces the last of my control. I stumble back, expecting pain and blood. Out of the corner of my eye I see Bertrand’s head snap back. A spray of blood on the wall behind him. He drops, deadweight.

The next seconds pass in a blur of shock and the horror that comes with the sight of a violent death. The air reeks of blood and spent gunpowder. For an instant, I can’t move or speak. Adrenaline sparks, but my thoughts are scattered and disjointed.

Kneeling next to Mercer, Gina lowers the Sig Sauer and shakes her head. “He’s gone,” she says.

I don’t want to see Bertrand. Of course, I’m bound to do just that. Gathering as much of myself as I can, I go to him. The detective is lying on his back, arms sprawled, head tilted severely to one side. His mouth is a gaping black hole. The pale glow of a single remaining tooth. A growing pool of blood glistens on the concrete floor. I don’t need to see more to know he’s dead.

Gina’s eyes meet mine. Slowly, she gets to her feet. Without looking at her weapon, she releases the magazine and crosses to me. Her hand is steady when she passes me the gun.

“You know I don’t have the money, right?” she asks.

My hand is far from steady when I take the pistol.

She places the clip in my palm. I reseat the magazine, taking a moment to force my thoughts back into some semblance of order. I don’t put the gun away.

Needing air, I cross to the door and open it, the cold be damned. A thousand stars stare down at me, seeing everything. In the distance, I hear the rise and fall of a lone siren.

“I guess I should tell you I’m relieved you found your gun,” I say.

“When they broke down the door, I went out the window.” She shrugs. “I figured you’d locked it up in your vehicle. So while Bertrand and Mercer were inside, I busted out the Explorer’s window, got it out of the console.”

I stare at her, struggling to believe her, trying to put everything that happened into some kind of order that makes sense. “Why did they think you’d taken the money?”

“Because I let them.” She glances over her shoulder at Mercer’s body. “Ken Mercer was in love with me. That made it easier.”

“How did they find you?”

“Mercer had my cell number. The burner. I knew he’d use that to find me.”

The floor tilts beneath my feet. “You set them up.”

“I did what I had to do.”

“You could have gotten all of us killed,” I tell her. “Adam. The children.”

“I didn’t.” Contempt simmers in her eyes when she looks at Bertrand’s body. “They would have come for me regardless of the money. I knew too much; I could put all of them in prison. But without the promise of eighty thousand dollars, they would have killed me on sight, or hired some thug to do it, no questions asked. Their presumption of my knowing the location of the cash kept us alive, my friend.”

“Forgive me if I don’t thank you.”

“Once you’ve had a chance to think about it, you will.” Her mouth twists, but she doesn’t quite manage a smile.

CHAPTER 33

It never ceases to amaze me how drastically life can change in a very short period of time. How fragile and yet resilient that life is. How much all of us take for granted.

In the last hour, two Holmes County sheriff’s deputies arrived on scene, tire chains jangling, sirens and lights blazing. By all rights, I should have cuffed Gina and taken her into custody. I didn’t. The first deputy to arrive is an acquaintance of mine; we’ve worked together a few times over the years. He didn’t question me when I asked him to hold off on taking Gina into custody.

I’m still not sure she’s telling the whole truth about Mercer and Bertrand, about the money, about any of it. The one thing I do know is that if she hadn’t stopped Bertrand when she did, I wouldn’t be here to ponder any of it.

Gina and I are standing on the stoop outside the front door of the freezer shanty when I hear the whine of a snowmobile engine. I watch as Tomasetti slides to a stop behind a Holmes County Sheriff’s Department SUV and shuts down the motor. Then he’s off the snow machine and striding toward me, working off the helmet and gloves, letting them fall to the snow. I don’t remember crossing to him. The next thing I know I’m in his arms. For the first time in what seems like hours, I’m warm and safe. My heart is filled with hope and the knowledge that everything is going to be okay.

I close my eyes, but with Tomasetti close, the darkness is soft and I’m ensconced. “Took you long enough to get here,” I whisper.

“You okay?” he whispers.

“I am now.”

“Bertrand and Mercer?” he asks.

“Dead.” I tell him about the scene inside. “If Gina hadn’t stopped him—”

“She’s still in a lot of trouble.” His eyes flick toward the building, where the woman in question is leaning next to the door, smoking a cigarette she must have bummed from one of the deputies.

“Apparently, that is the theme she’s been keeping,” I say.

“There are a lot of cops who have a lot of questions for you. BCI, too. Maybe even the feds.”

“I figured that would be the case,” I tell him. “I can handle it.”

“I know you can.” He stares at me for what feels like a long time. As if he’s looking for something expected that isn’t there, and he’s surprised by its absence. “Just so you know, Denny and I have your back.”

“I appreciate that.” It’s a pat response. At the moment, it’s the only one I can manage. My emotions are too close to the surface. I don’t quite trust my voice to betray me.

Tomasetti continues, “BCI took Frank Monaghan into custody twenty minutes ago.”

“Top of the food chain.”

“There’s more to come.” He runs his hands down my arms, squeezes my forearms gently. “You did good, Kate.” He grimaces. “All the lies aside, Colorosa, too.”

Looking at him, I get that unsettling quiver in my chest that eases just short of taking my breath. Surprising me, he reaches out and sets his hand against my cheek. I press my face into his palm, and for the span of several heartbeats, he simply gazes back at me.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” he whispers. “I’m sorry I left. I should have—”

“You did everything you were supposed to do.” Turning my head slightly, I press a kiss to his palm. “No one expected an ambush at the farm.”

“Yeah.” He looks away, thoughtful, and for the first time I catch a glimpse of his own emotions simmering just beneath the surface. “I think you and I have a few things to talk about,” he says quietly.

“We do.” I take his hand. “I may have some soul searching to do when it comes to Gina, but I know exactly where I stand with you.”

I want to say something about the preciousness of life, the importance of the relationships we forge and how both of those things are intertwined and reliant upon the decisions we make along the way. But my voice fails. Tears heat at the backs of my eyes. The jangle of a harness rigging, the stomp of shod hooves, and the whoosh of steel runners through snow saves me from making a fool of myself.

I glance away from Tomasetti to see a horse and sleigh coming down the road, traveling a little too fast for conditions.