The Memory Agent & Fool Me Once (11 page)

Before Duke can disarm Haley, Claire swift knees Riker in the groin.

Using the heel of her hand, she shoves it in his throat, nearly
shattering his wind pipe.
 

Claire grabs the pillow from Riker's hands as he stumbles backwards,
coughing.

She slugs him with the pillow.
 
In the confusion Duke disarms Haley and shoves her to the floor.

Riker rises to fight Duke just as Haley leaps up off of the floor and
jumps on Claire's back.
  
Haley pounds Claire in the head with her fist while Claire slugs Haley
with the pillow trying to get the
skank
off of her
back.

At the same time, Duke and Riker engage in a
fist
fight
.
 
Duke, certainly not
at one hundred percent, takes a pummeling from his big brother.

Riker shoves Duke through the plate glass window.
 
Duke lands on the deck.

Claire weakening under the weight of the feisty Haley still on her
back,
rolls on the couch and then elbows Haley in the gut to
free herself.

Haley jumps up and starts throwing every thing she can find at
Claire.
 

Claire admirably defends herself as Haley backs her up to the wall.
 
Claire notices the logger equipment
hanging on the wall.
 

Haley grabs the gun on the floor and is about to shoot Claire at close
range when...

Claire grabs the hand saw hanging on the wall, whips around and slices
through Haley's throat so adeptly that Haley didn't even have time to cock the
gun.
 
Haley, blood splattering out
of her throat, falls dead to the floor.

Claire hurries to help Duke who has been thrown off of the deck by
Riker.
 
Duke has taken a serious
beating from his brother.

Riker now holds a gun on Duke.
 
“Adios, baby brother.”
 
Riker is about to shoot Duke…

When Claire dives off of the deck, landing in front of Duke, taking the
bullet that was meant for Duke in her gut.
 

She falls to the ground, looking like she's dead or close to it.

“No
!!!”
Duke cries out.

Duke rushes his brother.
 
Riker tries to shoot but Duke has pushed the gun out of his hand.

Riker, stumbling, grabs a stick of firewood from a nearby wood pile and
slugs Duke in the side of the head, the side where he had been shot and had
surgery.

Duke falls to the ground, looking like he's dead or close to it.

Riker hears a helicopter flying above.
 

He runs into the cabin, grabs his velvet bag of jewels, hurries to an
all-terrain vehicle and drives off into the woods.

Duke and Claire lay lifeless on the ground.
 

Until Duke stirs.
 
He stumbles over to Claire.

He cradles her.
 
She is not
in good shape, bleeding from the gut, nearing unconsciousness.

“Don't you dare die on me!
”
He cries out.

Claire manages a smile.
 
“Funny.
 
I said the same
thing to you when we first met in the alleyway after you had been shot.
 
I added "you bastard,"
though.”

The comment makes Duke chuckle, they lock eyes for a long moment, both
silently saying I love you.
 
“Who
do I call?” He asks.

“There's a cell-phone in the glove compartment.
 
Dial 414-555-2222, ext. 2.”
 
Claire responds, fighting to stay
conscious.

Duke hurries to the jag, grabs the phone, makes the call, rushes back to
Claire, cradling her again.

“Hold on.
 
Please Jasmine,
hold on,” he pleads.

The sound of a helicopter and police cars approaching relieves
Duke.
 

“I hear the cavalry,” Claire states.

Duke kisses Claire's forehead.
 
“I'm going to go get my brother.
 
He needs to pay.”

Duke leaves Claire at the moment where help has arrived yet he can still
make an escape.

*****

Whitmore is seated in a chair next to a hospital bed watching over
Claire.
 
She stirs, opens her eyes,
sees
Whitmore.

He manages a smile. “I bet you never figured you'd be back in this room
so soon.”

“I'm surprised I'm not handcuffed,” she responds.

“You should be.
 
That was a
foolish stunt.”

“How'd it end?”

“We lost both brothers.
 
They're gone.”
 

Claire processes the information, hearing Duke's words in her mind ‘I'm
going to go get my brother.’

“Hold off on the ‘I told you so,’ okay, I might bust a stitch,” she
attempts to quip.

Whitmore respond in all seriousness.
 
“You better get some rest.
 
I'll do what I can to cover your ass.”

“I take full responsibility for my actions, Whit.”
 
Claire turns over as if she's planning
on falling asleep.

Whitmore places Claire's bracelet on the
night-stand
before he leaves the room.

Once she hears Whitmore has gone, she hops out of bed.
 
She gingerly puts on her clothes and
sneaks out.

*****

In a Mexican cantina near a Baja beach Riker sits at the bar, slugging
back shots of tequila, looking quite smug.

Until Duke shows up and points a gun at Riker's back.
 
Riker knows it without even turning
around.
 
“God, you just won't die,
baby brother.”

Riker stands up and faces Duke.
 
Duke aims the gun wanting desperately to kill his psycho brother, but
his hand shakes, which Riker notices.

“How's the fed?”

Claire, looking
pekid
from her wounds, enters
the scene.
 
“Just peachy as my Aunt
Rita would say.”
 

Both Riker and Duke look surprised to see Claire.
 
Claire approaches Duke.
 
“Don't do it.
 
Don't kill him, Duke.”

Duke cocks the gun, aims it squarely at Riker, his hand still shaking.

“You are not a killer.
 
He
is.
 
Don't let him take any more of
your life.” Claire tenderly puts her hand on Duke's hand, the one holding the
gun.
 
Duke lowers the gun.

Which gives Riker time to pull his gun hiding in the back of his pants
and aims it at Claire with the intent to shoot to kill.
 
Duke raises his gun and gets his shot
off before Riker pulls the trigger.

Duke's shot hits Riker in his gun hand, blowing the gun out of his hand
- and blowing a hole through his hand.
 
Riker falls to the ground, crying out in pain.

Claire approaches Riker, forces him onto his belly with the power of her
foot.
 
She grabs both of his
wrists, pulling them behind his back, and handcuffs them together.

“Riker Reeves, you are under arrest for nine counts of robbery and two
counts of murder, one including special circumstances.”
 
Claire's long-time goal has
happened.
 
She shares a look with
Duke, a bittersweet look.

Claire, fully recovered, sits outside of a courtroom.
 
She's dressed in a stylish yet
conservative business suit, waiting to testify.

Whitmore, dressed in a suit, exits the courtroom.
 
He locks eyes with Claire.
 
He gives her a kind smile as if saying
that all will eventually be right between them.

Whitmore leaves the building and heads down the steps.
 
He approaches the curb.

Duke pulls up to the curb on his motorcycle, right in front of
Whitmore.
 
He removes his
helmet.
 
“What happened?” Duke asks
Whitmore.

“Your brother's going away for life without the possibility of parole.”

“Not about him.”

“I hope you realize what she gave up for you.
 
She's been suspended indefinitely.
 
She’s sacrificed her entire career to keep your sorry ass
out of jail.”

Whitmore walks away.
 
Duke
calls to him.
 
“Where is she?”

Whitmore glares at Duke.
 
He
most definitely doesn't want to tell him.
 
But he relents, nodding towards the courthouse before walking away.

Duke waits, seated on his bike at the curb,
watching the building.

Claire finally exits.
 
As
she heads down the stairs she sees Duke.
 
Their eyes lock.
 
She
approaches him, their eyes still locked.

“Here.
 
I want you to have
this.”
 
Duke hands a piece of paper
to Claire.
 
Claire sees that it's
the hand-written Shakespeare sonnet from Duke's mom's jewelry box.
 
“The sonnet you read to me, my dad read
to my mom on their wedding day.
 
But I guess you knew that.”

“I figured it had special meaning.
 
Thank you.”

“How are you feeling?”
 
Duke
asks.

“Good, I’m good.”

“Good enough for a ride?”
 
Duke asks with a hopeful twinkle.

Claire smiles, their eyes still locked.
 
“Yeah,” she sighs, relieved.

He offers her a helmet.
 
She
takes it, puts it on and hops on the back of Duke's bike.
 
She puts her arms around his waist,
which feels like heaven to him and to her.
 
She squeezes him, he leans into the squeeze; they both
relish the moment of being connected.

He rides off as the setting sun’s amber glow peeks through the buildings
of the city.

THE END

FOOL ME ONCE

APRIL FIRST,
ONE YEAR EARLIER

A cherry red
Italian sports car, at racing speed, flies down a quiet pre dawn street in a
northwestern coastal city.

Following
close on the tail of the sports car is an unmarked cruiser, lights
flashing.
 
A high-speed car chase
through the streets of the sleepy seaside city ensues.

In the sports
car…

The driver, a
criminal punk, puts the pedal to the metal but can't shake his persistent
pursuer.
 
He looks in the rearview
mirror at the cruiser breathing down his tail.
 
“What the fuck, man?”

The sports car
comes perilously close to
totalling
as it makes a
high speed turn into on-coming traffic.
 
The punk clearly does not have the same driving skills as the driver of
the cruiser, and it's only by sheer luck that he hasn't crashed yet.

In the
unmarked cruiser…

Detective
Derek Winton drives. He’s self-assured and
determined,
he doesn't give up and doesn't take crap.
 
His handsome face is chiseled ruggedness with a strong jaw covered in
sexy scruff; the scuff and sideburns feature a touch of grey.
 
He’s retired military, an Army ranger,
just about forty in age. He looks a bit older than that because he’s seen more
things in his life as a ranger and a cop than anyone should ever have to
see.
 
Between his physical strength
and inner strength, he’s just the guy you’d want defending you in any battle.

Derek keeps
his focus on the chase, cringing at the reckless driving by the punk in the
beautiful sports car.
 
Derek
watches as the punk loses control of the sports car, spinning donuts down the
street until he comes to a stop within inches of a cement wall.

On the street…

The punk gets
out of the car and makes a run for it.
 
The cruiser burns rubber to a stop.
 
Derek jumps out of the cruiser and pursues the punk on foot,
but clearly he’s in no mood for a running chase.
 
“It's too damn early for running. If you don't stop, I am
going to shoot you.”
 
Derek calls
out.

The punk doesn't
listen.
 
He keeps running.
 
Derek shoots a warning shot which
momentarily stuns the punk.
 
But he
keeps running.