Crime & Counterpoint (34 page)

Shelley watched in trepidation as Zach walked closer, unarmed, and with no backup.

He stopped in the doorway, allowing his eyes to adjust to the light and then stepped through with his hands raised so Kazanov would see he wasn’t armed.

“Now what?” he asked from just inside the room’s entryway.

Kazanov appraised Zach in full suit and tie, clad for a wedding, and amusement entered his austere face. He looked at Shelley and jerked his head towards Zach. “Go.”

She needed no further prompting. Zach’s chest swelled as she fled into his arms. His heart broke for her, but at the same time, it felt wonderful to have her cling to him – to need him like this. For however short a while.

Her hair was in beautiful disarray but still retained its luster. There was a glow of fear to her skin, and he hated himself for having stepped into her life. He held her tight, closing his eyes, letting himself pretend for a moment that she really was his – that they were in her room alone, maybe just beginning their wedding night. He pressed his lips to her hair, his whole body telling him this was the last time he would get to touch her.

“Why did you come?” she whispered, thickly.

“Because,” he said intimately, “I found something worth dying for.”

Her gold-flecked eyes poured forth anguished tears. “Don’t,” she sobbed. “Don’t say that.”

He cupped her wet jaw and lowered his head, kissing her tenderly, tasting her intense grief and her love. She made him forget just for a little while, and he wanted to die just like this. He broke away and still caressing her face, said, “Get out of here, do you understand?”

Her mouth opened. She shook her head, begging him not to do this.

“Please,” he said firmly, setting her away from him.

“Yes,” Kazanov taunted, flourishing his weaponless hand through the air. “Listen to the detective. He knows what he’s talking about. Because if anything happens to you, your father will raise hell.”

Zach’s blue gaze sharpened and glowered at Ivan.

Mockingly, Kazanov raised his brows. “Oh, I’m sorry, was I not supposed to tell her? About your
deal
?”

Shelley hesitated, lifting questioning eyes to Zach. “What deal?”

“Nothing.” Zach gripped her by the arm and tried to force her out. But she put her hand to the doorframe and pushed, keeping herself in the room.

“What deal?!” she repeated.

“He had to keep you safe, protect you, make sure not a hair on your precious head was harmed,” Kazanov taunted in an almost sing-song fashion. “Otherwise, your father promised to ruin him and his case against Cervenka.”

“Shut up!” Zach retorted, but the damage was done. He saw the disbelief on Shelley’s face. “Listen, Shelley, it’s not like that–”

Struggling against him, she pulled away. “What is it like?!”

His hands fell to his sides, and he dropped his gaze in shame and dismay, his chest burning like sulfur. The guilt. It down-poured. He said nothing in his defense and turned away from her, ready to face his end.

Shelley clutched at the folds of her dress, Kazanov’s words playing over and over in her mind. She stormed out, crying. A rock lodged in her throat, and she couldn’t breathe. Her eyes blurred terribly, and she nearly tripped over one of the dead men littering the hallway. It was too dark for her to realize how their blood colored the world of her childhood.

What was she supposed to do now? Run? For what and to where? She didn’t want to be anywhere else but near Zach. However, he had just proven that he didn’t love her at all. It was just for the sake of his stupid–

Her foot kicked something hard. She looked down at the same time she heard Kazanov talking. She blinked rapidly to clear the tears.

Bending, she felt around the floor and touched upon the cold polymer frame of Zach’s gun.

“I feel compelled to tell you precisely why I’m doing this,” Ivan said as he stared at Zach’s crestfallen countenance – the fight seemed to have left the man. “For the last three years, you have cut me off at every turn.” Kazanov kept his gaze steady, his voice even, and his gun unwavering. “But that isn’t the reason I am going to send you to your hereafter.” He let the howling wind outside fill the silence for a beat. “Do you know what it’s like to lose someone close to you?”

At this, Zach’s head came up, questioning.

Ivan stalked over into firing range of Zach, gun extended. He glanced through the doorway, beyond it. He could just make out Shelley in the hall, crouched over something, dead bodies around her. “You would die for this one? Hm? You would kill for her. That I know well.” His sharp gaze returned to Zach. “Ask me. Ask me ‘how do I know’.”

Zach kept his lips tight, cheek muscles spasming.

“ASK ME!”

Jerking slightly, Zach gritted his teeth. “How do you know?”

Kazanov simmered and actually smiled. He stepped back. “My son. He was a police officer like you.”

Zach’s gaze tunneled. “What?”

“I encouraged him not to be in my business. But my boy, he was so eager to help. How do you think I stayed ahead all these years?” Kazanov paused and let his words seep into the walls. “He knew you were coming after me. And he wanted to ease my burden. Do me a favor.” His face hardened. “But you… you shot him. And just” – Ivan gestured with his gun – “threw him into the tracks. Like
musor
. Like he was garbage.” His features began to contort and anguish broke through the thick glass of his eyes. “You stole him from me!”

Zach remembered the moment too well. “I’m sorry,” he said genuinely.

The Russian shook his head in disgust. “You really think that will be enough?” He scowled viciously. “Nothing will be enough. There is no justice for men like you. Men like me.” He glanced at the bride who stood now, back turned. Lowering his voice, he said with a malicious smile, “And now…” He came closer to Zach and spoke into his face, spittle flying from his overwrought lips. “I’m going to take her from you.”

Zach’s eyes widened before Ivan raised the .45 gun and fired.

A bullet slugged into Zach’s chest in the same spot where he’d been impacted before. The lead sailed clean through emerging out his back. He lurched backward from the impact before dropping to his knees. The world closed in on him, and he couldn’t breathe.

Kazanov took five steps towards Zach until he was standing an arm’s length away from the kneeling figure. It satisfied him to watch the strength drain out of the nearly-indestructible detective. He pushed the barrel into Zach’s forehead effectively forcing the man’s head back and keeping him from falling forward.

“It’s a shame. In different circumstances, we might have worked together well.”

Zach’s eyes lost their fire and spirit til there was barely a flicker in them. Ivan was about to eject a second bullet when he caught white movement and looked up expectantly.

To his amused surprise, the pianist had a gun pointed unwaveringly at him. There was a desperate gleam in her glittering, beautiful eyes. “And what do you think you’re going to do with that?”

White hot pain streaked across the windows to her soul, and she braced herself, finger closing around the trigger. Breathe.

BANG!

Shelley dropped the warm weapon, her heart thundering wildly. She rushed to Zach’s side just before he collapsed. Unconscious. She caught him under his arms, kneeling, letting him fall against her. Cradling him, she let the tears freely stream down her cheeks. “It’s okay,” she whimpered. “It’s gonna be okay.”

This was her fault, she wailed bitterly. If she hadn’t left the church, she never would have been picked up by Kazanov. She would have been safe. She would have been married, but Zach would still be alright.

Regardless of what he’d done, he’d become her music now. And if he died, the music in her would cease to exist. Thinking these mind-numbing thoughts, she squeezed him tighter though he had grown so heavy.

She managed to sit so she could handle his weight better. Feeling warm and sticky moisture, she lifted her hand from his sternum to find it covered in his blood. The exit wound. She now beheld how his white shirt had turned dark, wine red, soaked almost completely. The color blossomed on her gown.

“Zach,” she moaned, kissing his forehead. “Zach. Please, I need you. I don’t know what to do.”

Then, from the distance, she heard the faint whine of sirens, many of them, and the slamming doors of newly-arrived cars. Her hopes lifted a shade.

The front door opened and men’s voices flurried inside with a gust of snow and wind. She wanted to call out to them, but when she tried to talk, she couldn’t even choke out a syllable.

Fortunately, they followed the direction of the light and thundered up the stairs.

Moments later, she heard several distinct curses proceed from a recognizable voice. Rick. She looked over as he filled the doorway, gun drawn.

“Jesus Christ,” Rick said under his breath. This room was a mess with one guy dead against a wall and another – “Oh shit.” It was Kazanov. Dead on the floor, eyes wide, blank, staring at the darkened mural on the shadowbox ceiling. His gun sat obediently on the ground next to his now-limp hand. Almost black blood trickled lazily out from the point of entry. Rick bent down to study the gun by his feet and realized it was Zach’s off-duty weapon.

He looked at Shelley. The girl couldn’t even hold up her head. “Shelley? Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

She indicated no, but he wasn’t sure he could believe her. Quickly, he turned to one of the cops checking out the dead men in the hallway. “Hey! Get the medics up here. Quick. We’ve got a man down.”

Rick went over to Shelley and crouched by her to check Zach’s pulse. It was faint but present. “It’s okay, sweetie. He’s gonna be fine.” But he had the sense that Shelley didn’t believe him. Zach’s breathing was barely noticeable. He peered into Shelley’s face, which was almost as pale as Zach’s and touched her shoulder. She didn’t respond. She was staring at Zach’s chest while her left hand covered in dried blood reflexively stroked his almost black hair.

Rick moved his hand down to her arm to feel her skin. Cold and clammy.

“
He’s upstairs
,” Rick heard a cop say. Soon after, four EMT guys appeared, ready to get to work. Rick backed off, answering a call from Carter while they immediately began to tend to Zach.

“What’s going on?” Carter demanded. “Did you find Shelley?”

“She’ll be fine, but Zach’s taken a shot to the chest,” Rick replied. “It was Kazanov.”

“What?!”

Rick glanced at the unsightly mess as the medics turned Zach onto his back. They shone a light into his eyes. “I’m not getting a response here,” one of them said.

Rick scowled. Did they have to be so damn blunt? Shelley didn’t look like she could take any more.

“What about Shelley? Does she need me?” Carter’s question drew Rick’s attention back to their conversation.

Rick glanced at her and observed the way she stared at Zach. Like if he died, she would too. “She’s not doing so hot. I gotta go.”

Rick hung up soon after, promising to keep Carter updated on specifics. He watched as the emergency team worked on Zach expertly and swiftly, hooking him up with a supply of oxygen and then cutting away at his puddled shirt to assess the damage and temporarily patch him up for his transport to the hospital. The blood had collected in his suit jacket keeping it off the floor. They left it on him.

Looking over their shoulders, Rick saw the gaping bullet wound and grimaced. Then, he noticed one of the gloved medics attend to Shelley gently prying her away from Zach.

The medic looked up at Rick as he attempted to clean her bloodied hands. “What’s her name?”

Rick told him.

“Okay, Shelley. Can you tell me how you’re feeling?”

She couldn’t. In fact, she seemed numb.

Rick walked over and hunkered down next to her, thinking he could be of help. After checking her pulse, examining the inflammation on her cheek where Kazanov had slapped her twice, and gauging her pupils ability to dilate, the medic announced, “She’s in shock. See if you can find her a coat.”

Spying a closet, Rick jumped up and went to search. He found a black wool dress coat, grabbed it off its hanger, and brought it back to her, arranging it around her shoulders. “There. Is that better?” he asked her. She gave a slow blink; tears stood in her eyes, threatening to fall and magnifying her sadness.

“Keep her warm. She’ll be fine.” He got up and went to help his fellow EMT’s with Zach.

Rick took his place and sat down next to her and pulled her against him, stroking her hair much in the same way she had stroked Zach’s. He didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing.

The medics lifted Zach onto the stretcher and prepared to take him down the stairs. Suddenly Shelley spoke, quietly but with steely determination. “I have to go with him.”

Relieved she had said anything at all, he called to the medics, “Hey, can she go along?”

“It’s not the best idea, but if she’s up for it–”

“She is.” He started to rise and helped Shelley up, her white satin stained with splatters of already-browning red. He tugged her coat closed and helped her to button up. There. That took care of the superficial problem.

It was a painful trip down the stairs, but Zach didn’t appear any worse off once they reached the bottom. They loaded into the chopper, and Rick inquired about their destination. New York Presbyterian, one of them said. He squeezed Shelley’s hand and said something encouraging for her hearing only.

He stood back and watched as the chopper lifted off in the swirling drifts of snow. Pulling out his phone, he sent off a quick text to Carter with the information he asked for and then slid it back into the front pocket of his jeans.

A tap on his shoulder followed by the word ‘detective’ reminded him he still had a civic duty to carry out. The night had only just begun.