The Reckoning (13 page)

She let him eat the cookies.

“Where's Emmett?” Ricky asked around a mouthful of Oreo. “I have math homework.”

“He's not here. I can help you, though.”

Ricky shook his head. “I'll wait until he's back.”

It didn't sting that her son didn't want her help. “He's…he's not coming back.”

The hand holding the cookie stilled on its way back to his mouth. “What do you mean, he isn't coming back?”

She shrugged. “He's going to be, uh, living somewhere else from now on.”

“Living where?”

Linda shrugged again. “I'm not sure.”

Ricky dropped the rest of the cookie onto the table and turned his back on her. His shoulders hunched as he shoved his hands into his front pockets. “I was going to invite him to something.”

“Oh. Well.” She swallowed. “Maybe when Nan and Dean get back in a few days we can find out—”

“It's tomorrow night!”

“What's tomorrow night?”

“It's the father/son school barbecue, okay?”

“Oh, well, I'm sure you don't have to take a father—”

“Of course you do!” Ricky shot her an angry look over his shoulder. “And I was going to invite Emmett last night, but then I—”

Lost his nerve, Linda silently finished for him. Maybe that explained why he'd begged to stay up last night and then why he was in such a terrible mood this morning. He'd wanted to bring Emmett to school with him as his—oh, God—father, but then he'd lost his courage.

“What about Dean?”

“He won't be back in time.” Ricky spun around to glare at her. “And I'm not going to bring you.”

“Of course not.” That didn't sting, either.

“So why did he leave?”

“Well, I…” How much should she tell him? “It was always just a favor to me, to Ryan, really. And sometimes grown-ups—”

“You messed that up, too, didn't you? That's it, isn't it?” There was more hurt than heat in his eyes. “You're always ruining things for me.”

Linda closed her eyes. “I don't mean to. Ricky, none of this was my choice. I never wanted—”

“What? You never wanted me?”

The words slid into her heart, cold and deadly. She gasped. No, no. It was bad enough when she thought them, but to hear her son say them out loud…. “That's not true.”

It wasn't true. It wasn't, really, that she hadn't wanted him. The truth was, she hadn't wanted to fail him.

Just as she was doing. Her brain fumbled for the right words.

“Well, I never wanted you, either,” Ricky declared, swip
ing his bangs out of his eyes with a hand. “I wish you'd never woken up.”

These words didn't hurt as much as the others.
You never wanted me.
But her hand flew up to her heart anyway, just as Ricky, once more, flew out of the kitchen and then out the front door.

Bracing herself against the counter, Linda closed her eyes. She was a failure. A complete, utter failure.
How do I make this right? How do I fix all the things I've broken today?

She heard the front door open again. She was afraid to let herself hope it was Ricky coming back.
I don't know what to say to make this right. I don't know what to do.

“Mom?” a thin, young voice said.

Her eyes popped open. Ricky
was
back, his arm held in the grip of a stranger.

“Who are you?” she said to the man. “What are you doing with my son?”

He answered by holding up the gun in his other hand and training it at Ricky's temple. “I'm here to see a man about a horse.”

“What?”

“Sorry.” The stranger smiled. “Private joke.”

“What is it you want?” she demanded.

“A yacht, a house on the beach in Tahiti, satellite TV and radio. But I'm willing to wait for those.” He winked at her. “Right now, I want Emmett.”

Oh, God.
“He's not here.”

“No duh, sweetheart. I noticed his car isn't on the premises.” The man kicked out a chair and shoved Ricky into it. “He'll be back.”

Jason. This stranger was Jason Jamison. It had to be. Linda swallowed hard. “He won't be back. He left for good this morning. I don't know where he went.”

Jason frowned. “Don't give me that. I don't like liars, especially when they come in the blond bimbo variety.” He gestured with the hand not holding the gun; it was still trained on Ricky's head. “You sit down, too, sweetheart. We'll all be here together when Emmett gets back.”

 

Emmett considered heading for the nearest Texas border, crossing it and never going back. He'd had his taste of the sunshine, and it was all he was going to get. Ever. So he might as well find the deepest, darkest hole he could find and bury himself there.

The cabin in the Sandia Mountains. That would work. It was the place he'd taken himself to after Christopher's death and after the Jessica Chandler case had gone all to hell. He hadn't found sunshine or solace there, but his stash of tequila bottles was bound to be still waiting. Drunk hadn't been such a bad way to spend the days. And nights.

He remembered promising his father that he wouldn't go back there again, but that was before he'd lost Linda. Before the light had left his life. All bets were off now. It was a whole different ball game.

It wasn't any kind of game at all.

Noting the gas gauge on his car, Emmett pulled into the next gas station he came across. And then he noted where he was. Red Rock. For some reason, he'd driven on autopilot to Ryan Fortune's beloved Red Rock, Texas.

A blond-haired teenager ambled out of the small office. “Can I help you, sir?” The kid's flop of hair reminded Emmett of Ricky. Pain pierced him, right where he hoped he didn't have a heart. Not only had he lost the woman, he'd also lost the super speller, soccer phenom who was her son.

“Go ahead and fill it up, please,” Emmett told the kid. He
got out of the car to stretch his legs as the young man put the nozzle in the tank and went about washing the windows.

“You from around here?” the attendant asked.

“Not really. I found this place through Ryan Fortune.” Another pain.

“Mr. Fortune!” The kid smiled. “I knew him. He filled up here, every one of his trucks and the luxury cars, too. When he found out I was good at math but thinking about quitting high school, he talked me out of it.”

“He was like that.”

“He was more than just talk, though,” the kid continued, leaning across the hood to squeegee the other side of the windshield. “My dad had taken off and my mom had lost her job at the county library due to budget cuts. That's why I was going to quit school, so I could work at the station full-time and help out with the bills. But Mr. Fortune found my mom a job in the office at the organic egg farm down the road.”

“So you stayed in school after all.”

“Yep. Graduating next week. I've been accepted at the state college for the fall, and Mr. Fortune is still helping me out. He put four years' worth of tuition in an account with my name on it.”

That was Ryan. And that was the kind of work the foundation Emmett had discussed with Lily could continue. He hoped it wouldn't die without him to oversee things. That shouldn't be lost, too.

“Do you know what he made me promise in return?” the kid asked.

“Nothing?”

“No, he wanted a promise, all right.”

Of course Ryan would have asked for a promise, because Ryan was big on promises.
Look after Linda for me, Emmett. Do whatever you can for her and her son.
There was pres
sure behind Emmett's eyes, and he squeezed the bridge of his nose to force it away.

“He asked me to pass it on. Whatever I could do, whenever I could do it. He asked that I would help other people when I could, for the rest of my life.”

“That sounds like Ryan.”

The kid had his hip against the front bumper and he was looking off into the distance. “I don't know what I'm going to do, not yet. But I'll be thinking of him all of my life. And the day I do my first good deed, I think he'll know it.”

That pressure was building behind Emmett's eyes again and he heard Lily's voice in his head.
I want you—Ryan and I both want you—to be happy. To reach out to life, really live the moment, instead of wallowing in all the ugliness.

That was what he was thinking of doing, wasn't he? Heading for the Sandias where he could wallow in ugliness and unhappiness for the rest of his life.

Leaving Linda and Ricky untended, the exact opposite of what Ryan had asked Emmett to do. That was wrong. He had to fulfill his promise, didn't he? If she didn't want anything else from him, he could at least give her his protection, from whatever distance she required.

“That'll be forty dollars and seventy-one cents, sir.”

Opening his eyes, Emmett dug in his pocket for his wallet. “So your mom's doing okay now?”

He nodded. “Yes, thank you, she is. With my dad gone and her job lost, I think she felt overwhelmed. She used to say she thought she was a failure as a mother and as a woman. Not that my sisters and I believed that, but it's how she felt. She was scared, I guess.”

Emmett thumbed through his cash and pulled out three twenties as the boy's words echoed in his head.
She felt over
whelmed…. She thought she was a failure as a mother and as a woman…. She was scared.

Was that what happened to Linda today? Did she get scared?

“But the new job helped your mom with all that, is that right?” Emmett asked, handing over the money.

The boy shrugged. “I think it was Mr. Fortune more than anything. He gave her hope. What he did showed that he had faith in her.” He ducked his head as if embarrassed. “At least that's what she tells me.”

Was that how Emmett had failed Linda? When she needed reassurance, had he run instead of staying to support her?

Had he run because it was easier than believing he could change, that he really had a heart after all? She'd given him so much hope, from that very first moment he'd seen her, and yet he'd not stuck around to give her any back. Damn it.

When she'd doubted herself as a woman and a mother,
he
had neglected to show his faith in her.

“Your change, sir.”

Emmett turned toward the kid, returning from the register in the office. The sun was now just low enough in the sky to dazzle Emmett's eyes. It backlit the attendant, making him just a dark shape. A dark shape that looked eerily like Ryan.

“Don't worry,” Emmett murmured. “I've figured it out now. I'm going back to her.”

“Excuse me, sir?” The attendant shifted and he was once again the rangy blond-haired Ricky look-alike.

Emmett shook his head, then paused. “You know that promise you made to Mr. Fortune?”

“Yeah?” The teen drew out the word, as if regretting telling this man that was now wearing a goofy half smile anything about his life.

“You've just done your first good deed. And I'm certain that Ryan knows all about it.”

The kid was staring after Emmett as he drove away. Emmett waved his hand out the car window, then flipped on the radio. Oh, yeah. He
was
doing the right thing.

He hummed along to “Feelin' Groovy.”

E
motions flooded Linda—fear, anxiety, more fear. They slowed her thinking and hampered her instincts. She could only stare at the dark-haired, almost pretty man who held a gun to Ricky's head as she slowly took a seat at the kitchen table.

“It's all right, Ricky,” she said, though her tongue felt thick and the words traveled slowly through the molasses-thick air in the room.

The boy's eyes were wide and trained on her face, as if she were the only thing he wanted to see. “Emmett will be here soon,” he muttered.

Jason Jamison smiled. “There, I knew it. Your mom's a lousy liar, kid. I knew Emmett wouldn't get away from me this time. I always win.”

Linda couldn't think clearly enough to lie. “I was telling the truth. Emmett left for good this morning. You can go in his room and check. None of his things are here any longer.”

He shook his head. “Not buying it, blondie. Once I found out this address, I used the cross-reference phone book at the library. Had to wait until after ten for it to open, but it was worth it. I called the phone number listed for the address and I'm guessing it's someone at the main house who confirmed Emmett was shacked up with you back here.”

“No one would tell—”

“Oh, don't blame Hazel the housekeeper or whoever it was. I said I was little brother's boss at the FBI and that I needed to verify the address so I could overnight him some important evidence.” He smiled again. “Good ol' Hazel tripped all over herself to tell me he was staying in the guest house but she'd personally ensure anything that came for Emmett would get to him.”

And what had come for Emmett was his brother, Jason.

Think, Linda, think.
Emmett had spent all that time with her going over self-defense, but now his teaching refused to coalesce in her muzzy brain. Wouldn't you know. She was going to fail at this, too.

“Emmett will make you pay.” Ricky shot a glare at their captor.

Jason's eyes were as cold as a snake's. “You've got that all wrong, young man. The one who's going to pay is Emmett.”

“What's he ever done to you?” Ricky asked, ignoring the urgent message Linda was trying to telegraph with her eyes.

Don't bait him! Sit quietly and let me think of a way out for us.

Of course, the truth was she couldn't think much at all. Her only plan was the hope that Jason would grow tired of waiting for the no-show Emmett and go away.

“Both my brothers were thorns in my side my whole life. The biggest mistake I ever made was not doing something
about them sooner. Listen to me, kid, you gotta take what you want from life and shoot the people who get in your way.”

Ricky's eyes rounded. “You're going to shoot him?”

Linda's heart clenched as she watched the truth dawn on the boy's face. This wasn't a TV show or a Nintendo game, Ricky was realizing now. This was deadly serious. The gun was real, Jason's intent was real, danger was real.

Jason glanced at Linda, then back at Ricky. “Who are you two, anyway? Why's my brother hanging out back here with a woman and her kid?”

Ricky crossed his arms over his narrow chest. “He's been making sure we stay away from other people and that other people stay away from us. We have a deadly disease. You get within…within ten feet and we infect you.”

Jason hooted. “So now I've got your disease? That's good, kid.”

“If you leave now, right now, maybe you won't catch it.”

“Nice try.” Jason shifted his gaze from Ricky to Linda. “This kid's got a quick mind, I'll give him that. So you tell me why Emmett's been holed up here.”

Was there some story that would give them a better chance? What could she possibly say that would elicit Jason's sympathy or send him on his way? Her stupid head could only fuss with the questions and couldn't come up with any answers. The weight of failure settled more heavily on her chest.

“I have a head injury,” she said, because the truth was the only thing she thought she could make ring true. “He's helping me get settled.”

Jason's eyebrows rose. “Yeah? That sounds like something my sanctimonious straight arrow of a brother would do. But you don't look like a retard.”

“My mom's not a retard!” Ricky jumped up from his seat, and so did Linda from hers.

She reached across the table and grabbed the boy's arm. “It's okay, Ricky.”

“It's not okay.” He threw the man a dirty look over his shoulder.

Jason had backed off a few paces and was looking at them with amusement. “Don't try to suffocate his spunk, blondie. That's what a kid needs to get ahead. Some fire.”

“Is that what you have?” Linda asked. “Fire?” With her eyes, she silently urged Ricky back into his seat and breathed a little sigh of relief as he sat back down. She stayed on her feet.

“Yeah, I have fire. The only one in my generation who it was passed down to. It comes straight from my Grandpa Farley, who had political ambitions, political
talent
that would have taken him to the governor's mansion in Austin and then beyond, if that greedy old miser Kingston Fortune hadn't been so preoccupied with keeping all his money to himself.”

Linda leaned against the wall behind her and flicked her gaze to the kitchen countertops. Was there something she could use as a weapon lurking somewhere? She wouldn't have time to go for a drawer and then rummage through it for a knife. But what else might there be?

The pad and pen would be fine for a shopping list, but wouldn't stop an assailant. The lightweight napkin holder wouldn't do much good, either, nor the wad of napkins it held. What she needed was an old-fashioned cast-iron frying pan.

Something Emmett once said coalesced in her mind.
If someone gets into your house, know that any weapons in your home might be used against you.

Her shoulders slumped. Even if she'd left out a pot or a pan or two, she would have had to proceed with caution. Jason was bigger than she was, and presumably his reactions quicker than hers, thanks to her head injury.

Jason droned on about his grandfather and his own thwarted ambitions as defeat and an acute sense of vulnerability washed over her. Someone else was going to have to get them out of this.

But there wasn't anyone else. There wasn't.

“Emmett's not coming back,” she said loudly, interrupting Jason's monologue. She was sick of her weakness, and sick of believing she might come up with some way to get them out of this. It wasn't going to happen. She couldn't protect Ricky or herself.

She wasn't a whole enough woman.

Jason was staring at her. “I don't know why you keep insisting on that.”

“Because it's true,” she replied, her voice stony. “But I'll stay with you here as long as you like, waiting. Just let Ricky go. You don't need him.”

Ricky jerked straight in his chair. “I—”

“Shh!” She made a slashing gesture in his direction with her arm. “Be quiet!”

“Ooooh.” Jason grinned. “Feisty mama.”

She ignored the taunt. “Please,” she said. “Let him go and the two of us will wait for Emmett.”

Jason still appeared amused. “Blondie, blondie, blondie. Get your story straight. Emmett's either coming, or he isn't.”

Linda rubbed her forehead, frustrated and near despair. “Fine. He's coming. But you won't need Ricky.”

“Hmm.” Jason drummed his free fingers against his thigh. “You mentioned something earlier about checking Emmett's room for his things. Maybe I should do that. In any case, I think it's smart to take a look around, get a lay of the land.”

The muzzle of the gun wiggled as he gestured toward Ricky with it. “Get up, kid. We have a reconnaissance mis
sion ahead.” His head turned toward Linda. “All three of us, blondie. Get out from behind that table.”

At least they were moving, Linda thought as she obeyed. In the kitchen, she'd felt trapped. Maybe somewhere else in the house her head would clear and she could think her way out of this.

Jason waited in the center of the kitchen until she stood beside Ricky. “You two lead the way to the bedrooms.”

At the first step, they heard it. Tires on the drive leading to the guest house. All three of them froze.

“Ah, good,” Jason said, his voice filled with authentic pleasure. “I'm betting that's my boy Emmett.”

Linda thought it was, too. It sounded like his SUV, but she didn't know whether to feel exhilarated or more terrified. Another dose of anxiety muddled her head. “Let Ricky go,” she pleaded to Jason. It was the only clear thought she had. “Let Ricky go.”

“I don't think I can.” Jason gave her another of his sick smiles. “Because your son will make the perfect human shield.”

What? The air was thick again, her feet like lead. She shook her head. “No. Please, no.”

Jason ignored her. He made a little “gimme” gesture in Ricky's direction. “Come here, kid.”

Ricky hesitated. Frowning, Jason leaned forward to grab him.

Time slowed to syrup. Linda stared at the man's hand, at the black hairs on the back of it, at the groping fingers reaching for her child.

Her child.

Her baby.

Her boy.

I'd like to see you, I'd like to see everyone, take a rigor
ous self-defense course that stresses awareness first, running like hell second and any kind of combat as a last resort.

Emmett had said that.

It was too late for the self-defense course. And running like hell wasn't an option at the moment, either.

Combat was the only option left, and it seemed possible, doable, goddamn preferred, before she let this conscienceless monster touch her son again.

Linda let out a scream of rage. Fueled by a maternal instinct that was ages old and as strong as all the ages of mothers who had come before her, she rocketed forward. Jason, stunned by her screech or by her sudden movement or both, reared back. She darted between him and her son, shoving the boy farther away with one arm. Her other hand in a fist, she slammed it against Jason's wrist. The gun skittered away.

“Run!” she yelled to Ricky, still moving toward Jason. “Run!”

And then, just as all women who had come before her had discovered, male strength could overcome a woman's strength, even a mother's strength. He slung an arm around her neck, choking her in the very type of headlock Emmett had shown her on the mat.

Jason slammed her up against his body and his arm was tight, becoming tighter.
In a real situation, you'll likely be facing someone larger than yourself and certainly more aggressive,
Emmett had said.

She remembered it as she tried to get her fingers around the flexing muscles of Jason's forearm. Larger than me, she conceded, even as stars sparkled on the edges of her vision.

But not more aggressive, she decided. Not more aggressive.
Not when my baby's life is at stake.

With the darkness of unconsciousness closing in on her, she lifted one hand, fumbled to find Jason's unprotected armpit.

Between her forefinger and the first knuckle of her thumb, she pinched with all her fading strength and maternal will.

 

As he pulled up and parked outside the guest house, Ricky came tearing out the front door.

He stopped short when he saw Emmett, then pointed in the direction of the house. “Stop him!” he screamed. “Stop him, stop him, stop him!”

Adrenaline poured into Emmett's bloodstream. “What? Who?” He leapt out of the car and grabbed hold of the boy's shoulders. “What's going on?”

“Inside.” Ricky's face was pale and his arm gestures wild. “Inside. Your brother…my mother.”

Oh, God. Emmett sprinted for the open door, then paused.
Think, Jamison, think.

He looked back at Ricky. If he rushed in, he could make things worse. “Does he—?”

The kid could read minds. “She kicked his gun away, but he has her around the neck.”

Emmett's own throat closed. “Go to the main house and call the police,” he ordered, his voice harsh. Then, again wishing like hell he hadn't left his own guns locked up in the cabinet at the Fortune ranch, Emmett rushed down the hall, quietly.

He heard his brother before he saw him. “You're all alike, aren't you, blondie? All you stupid, cheating bimbos who don't know your place, who don't know that it's the way
I
want it and no other.”

Emmett reached the kitchen. He could smell that sulfur scent of Jason's evil in the air. His brother's back was to him, and he was screaming at Linda, who was sitting on the floor, propped up by the wall beside the refrigerator. There were red marks on her neck and a glazed look in her eyes.

Okay, okay. She was alive. Thank God. Alive.

“I'm winning this time, you get it?” Jason's voice was almost hysterical. “I take care of Emmett, then I won't have to stay in any more cheap motels and drive any more rusty cars.”

His pulse pounding, Emmett pressed as flat as he could against the wall and glanced around the kitchen floor. Where was the gun?

“You're never going to get Emmett.” Linda's voice was raspy. “Good is what will win, not you.”

There was the gun, on the floor by the dishwasher, tucked in the overhang of the lower cabinets. Between Emmett and the weapon was his brother, Jason.

All right, Jamison, breathe,
he told himself. With Jason still talking, the best strategy was to wait for the police before making another move.

“What did you say?” Jason bit out.

“I
said
you won't get Emmett.”

Why the hell was she baiting him? Emmett thought. But it was such a simple answer. To give Ricky time to get away.

“I
meant
that you're just like your Grandpa Farley, as you said. You're just like him because you're both losers. Pathetic losers.”