Choices, p.35
Choices, page 35
“Here.” Brian sat a few feet away with his head in his hands. He looked like shit.
Nick remembered it was actually some kind of miracle Brian was still awake. “Charlie, there’s glucose tabs in my right pocket. Get some into Brian, would you?”
“On it.” Charlie dug around by Nick’s hip, then went over to Brian with the tube.
“Rugo.” Sheriff Gannet stood over Nick, her expression like thunder. “What the hell are you doing in this clusterfuck?”
“I was following McNaught. Now I’m keeping Sam from bleeding to death.”
“McNaught’s dead.” Gannet’s tone was hoarse. “I want some real answers.”
“I told you someone in your department was involved in the vandalism.”
“That was Kyle McNaught?”
Nick looked up and met her furious eyes. He nodded.
For a second, he expected her to go postal on his ass, but she pulled back, turning icy calm. “When my backup arrives, you’re under arrest. You try to run, and I’ll track you down and shoot you myself.”
“Not going anywhere.” Nick glanced down at his blood-soaked hands. “You got an ETA for that ambulance?”
“Ten minutes.”
Those minutes dragged excruciatingly. Charlie coaxed Brian to lean on him and fed him glucose tablets one at a time. Nick thought Brian was way too pale, but he was still eating and talking, so Nick wasn’t looking any gift horses in the mouth. The air got smokier, and Gannet helped move Sam farther from the danger zone, shining her Maglite on the wound. The blood was bright red in the light. There was a hell of a lot of it.
A deputy was first to arrive, peeling up the lane with lights and sirens. Gannet set him shifting the two parked trucks off the lane so the fire truck and ambulance could get by. Another deputy and the ambulance tied for next. Two young EMTs with a stretcher took over Sam, and finally Nick could lift his cramping hands and go check on Brian.
He knelt at Brian’s side. “Hey, you okay?” He kept his bloody hands behind his back. Just his luck Sam would have hepatitis or something— he wasn’t touching Brian with that shit.
Brian blinked at him, his head propped on Charlie’s shoulder. “Better. Than. Usual.” He seemed to have to make an effort to form the words but it was still an improvement over out cold.
Charlie said, “We’re out of glucose tabs.”
“Maybe the EMTs have more.” He turned to see the ambulance heading out with Sam, siren wailing. He didn’t much care about Sam’s health, but he’d make a hell of a witness, so yeah, good if he made it through. “I have food and pop in the car.”
“You’re not going anywhere,” Gannet said behind him. “Brian, do you need an ambulance?”
Brian pushed up a bit. “No, ma’am.”
“Then you’re all under arrest.” Gannet waved to a new deputy. “Tanner, secure the weapons, read these three their rights, get the camera, and bring them all to the station. If Brian needs water or something, give it to him, whatever he needs.”
“Thank you,” Brian said over the top of Nick’s “Arrest for what?”
“Trespassing,” she snapped. “I’ll figure out what else later.”
The deputy said, with understandable hesitation, “All three of them? In one car? That’s not policy, ma’am. Cuffed?”
“They’ll be cozy.” She glanced at Charlie’s crooked stance, then glared at Nick. “Just cuff that one.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Get them the fuck out of here before the fire department arrives.” She whirled and strode off.
While the first deputy stood by, hand on the butt of his weapon, Tanner put on gloves and patted Nick and Charlie down, confiscated their weapons and led them to his car. Nick worked to get into the middle seat without smearing blood from his hands all over the cop or the car. It was tempting to make a deliberate mess of the guy’s uniform, but he wanted to work with these deputies down the road. He’s just doing his job. He settled in, sticky hands clasped together, and let Charlie fasten their seatbelts.
The deputy went back for Brian and the camera, slinging the strap around his neck and grabbing Brian by the arm to get him moving. Nick watched Brian trip and stagger on his way over. Gonna change my mind if that bastard makes him fall on his face— but the deputy shifted from propelling Brian along to supporting him and eased him in the other side gently enough.
All right, then.
Deputy Tanner drove them up the lane without a word. Nick didn’t mind being pressed up against Brian, keeping an eye on him as he stared out the window. He seemed to be functioning damned well for after a Find, even if he was a bit pale and glassy-eyed. Nick wedged his shoulder against Brian’s more firmly, in case he needed to lean on something. They climbed the rutted lane, passed the fire truck turning in at the top, and headed off into the quiet, smoke-free night.
Well, shit. That did not go off as planned. Nick blinked his eyes against a lingering sting and began planning how to lay out the evidence for Gannet. Not gonna be fun, explaining to my future boss that the guy she trusted completely was bent as hell.
****
Brian woke woozy and stiff. He unstuck his cheek from the table in front of him. Straightening up rocked the chair he sat in, and he glanced around. Oh yeah, the sheriff’s department.
He’d answered all the questions thrown at him while saying as little as he could, following the hints Nick had relayed in the back seat of the cop car. “Good thing I’m excellent at tailing people” from Nick had been a good clue not to mention his Finding. He’d said, “I don’t know,” and “That was up to Nick and Charlie,” whenever remotely possible. The less he explained, the less he’d be contradicting something they said. At some point, the deputy questioning him had gone out for a minute and he’d put his head down, and yeah— What time is it?
“That didn’t look comfortable.” Sheriff Gannet stood by the door, her arms crossed. There was a hint of smoke about her, or maybe it was from his own clothes?
He sniffed at his parka draped on the chair back. “Smoky, yeah.”
Her severe expression softened slightly. He felt a twinge of guilt, but didn’t give in to it. Wait and see what she wants. He hadn’t dropped into Bry so far, but he’d skated the edge.
“Do you need anything, Brian? Food or a cup of coffee?”
“The man gave me food.” Nick had apparently badgered them into feeding him with threats of a lawsuit if he got low blood sugar from “stress.” The burgers they’d brought him had been lukewarm and microwaved, but he’d never been a picky eater. “Coffee would be nice.”
“Or maybe you want to go home.”
“Home would be nice too.” He debated getting up like he thought she’d said he could go, but his butt still hurt from the time he’d pulled that with the deputy and been shoved back down. I’m too tired. He tried a dopey smile instead.
“You’re sure you told us everything you know about your friend, Nick?”
He didn’t think he was imagining the emphasis on friend, but it wasn’t like they were really in the closet. “I know lots more things about Nick. What he likes on his pizza, and how far he can throw Luger’s ball, or—”
“No.” She sighed and stared at him.
He shifted in his seat. “Is Sam going to be okay? Is it morning yet? Are you going to put me in prison for trespassing? Is Nick in trouble?” That’s not Bry, right? Just a bit of technique.
“If I let you go, what will you do?”
“I have to go home and let my dog out. He might’ve peed on the floor. What time is it?”
“Four a.m.”
“That’s late! Or early.” He pulled his parka off the chair and wrapped it around his shoulders, feeling chilled. “Do you know who broke Yasmin’s tractor? Was it Sam? It wasn’t set on fire, though.”
Gannet shook her head. “I still think you’re hiding something, but I don’t have time to figure out what. We’ll talk again later. You’re free to go.”
“Really?” He stood up before she could change her mind, gripping the table as his legs cramped. “I have pins and needles. But I can go? What about Nick?”
“I have a few more questions for your Nick.” She tossed Nick’s familiar car keys on the table. “He said to take his car. He’ll catch a ride with Charlie.”
“Our cars are in the woods.”
“I had them towed. They’re in the lot.” She smiled thinly and gestured him out of the room.
He wanted to argue for Nick’s freedom, but given how crap he’d always been at lies, Nick was probably better off with him gone. Nick would be spinning his own tale and didn’t need Brian messing things up. So he said nothing, as Gannet showed him to the door.
Outside the station, the night was cold and dark, the air crisp and clear when his brain was expecting smoke. He shuddered at the memory of flames clawing hungrily up the cabin. He hoped they’d saved the place.
Driving home took all his concentration, familiar roads swimming through the darkness. By the time he was passing the 7-Eleven, his whole body was shaking. A low-blood-sugar haze threatened the edges of his vision.
If Luger was going to pee on the floor, it’d probably happened already. He pulled in and ducked into the store for a big pop and beef sticks and a snack cake and a cookie. He ate them in the parking lot, his mouth crammed full, slurping and gnawing without worrying about his manners at all, as the good fat and sugar steadied him.
He hadn’t passed out properly this time Finding, unless you counted his nap on the table. He hoped the ongoing shakes didn’t mean he was delaying the inevitable. Maybe a candy bar and another pop would be smart? And cheese crackers? Couldn’t hurt, right?
His phone rang as he was tidying up all the wrappers, and he dug it out of his pocket.
“Nick! Are you in jail?”
Nick’s laugh was warm and reassuring. “Nope. Where are you? Home?”
“Almost. I’m at the 7-Eleven.”
“We just got turned loose. Sam made it through surgery, and the sheriff has bigger fish to fry. For now, anyway.”
“Do you want me to come back and get you? So Charlie can go straight home?”
He must’ve been on speaker, because Charlie said, “You go home and sleep. I’ll drop Nick off.”
“Are you sure? Are you both okay?”
Nick said, “We’re fine. Are you safe to drive? I’m surprised she let you get behind a wheel.”
“I’m good.” That might be an overstatement, but he didn’t want Nick to worry. He took a last loud slurp of the pop. “I stopped for a snack. I can drive.”
“See you at home then. You can clean up the dog shit while you’re waiting.”
“Luger would never poop on the floor,” he said hopefully, though he was kind of expecting a doggypocalypse.
“You wish. Stay sharp, drive careful, see you soon.”
The snack kept him going the rest of the drive past sleeping fields and darkened houses, but he turned in at their place with his eyelids drooping, ready to let go and sleep. The car was warm by then, and the night outside was cold. He pulled around the loop to make space for Charlie and sat for a bit, idling on the driveway, letting the heat run and staring down toward the road. He was tempted to snooze right there till Nick came home, ignoring the cramped seat and the seatbelt digging into his hip. I don’t want to move—
From toward the house, repeated, deep sounds nagged at the edge of his awareness. He rolled down his window. A barrage of thuds came from somewhere inside, while Luger bayed over and over, his bark hoarse and low.
Before Brian could get out, gravel crunched and something cold touched the side of his head. “My boss wants to talk to you about Mr. Turov.”
He slammed the car into gear without thought, stomping on the gas. The man outside yelped and thumped against the car, and for a second, Brian thought he’d lost him, but the back door swung open despite his speed down the drive, and he could hear someone struggling to get in. He swerved sharply but the narrow drive forced him to swing right back. Whatever he did was wrong because the door shut and that cold voice came from behind him now. “Stop! I’ll blow your head off.”
He powered the car out onto the road without slowing, swerving across the pavement, hoping nothing was oncoming. As soon as he’d straightened out, he hit the gas harder, picking up speed.
“Stop.” The cold steel pressed the back of his neck. “Slow down.”
“No, no, no. Dead can’t talk. Stop is dead.” He gave half his brain permission to go full-on Bry while he drove like hell, hoping for an idea or a cop car or Nick. Nick! He couldn’t afford to pass out, but maybe he could Find Nick for a second, figure out where he was. If he drove past Nick at seventy miles an hour… He squealed around a corner, fighting the wheel to stay on the pavement. “Go away!”
When he hit the straight part he sped up, swerving a couple of times to toss the guy in the back seat around, then tried to do a one-second dive into Finding. Amber-steel— shit! Eeeek! He corrected as his left tires hit the gravel, pulling the car sideways. The wheel jerked in his hand. The man behind him began shouting louder.
“Bad, bad, bad, bad, bad!” he shouted back, loud enough to drown out whatever the man was telling him to do. Bry is too weird to follow orders. Every second he expected to get shot or stabbed or something, but maybe the guy in the back was confused. Maybe he was scared of Brian’s driving. Brian stepped harder on the gas. I need a sheriff. The irony made him laugh in the middle of his babbling.
He roared through a stop sign. On the dark midnight road, no cop car waited in hiding to bust him for it. The man behind him reached between the seats like he was trying to climb forward. Brian hit the brake hard enough to jolt the guy against the driver’s seat, then stomped on the gas again, tossing the man backward.
Can’t go on like this. Either the man would figure out how to stop him, or he’d crash Nick’s car and kill himself. Maybe I can crash on purpose and kill the back-seat guy? He swerved left and right and heard the man curse and call him crazy. Crazy like a fox. A burst of energy rose inside him, making the world seem brighter and clearer. I need to whack the back seat, not the front. Where? How?
He hung a right, powering his way off the far shoulder, pebbles flying. Nick had taken him all around here, teaching him to drive. Where?
The man in the back suddenly wrapped a hand around his neck, squeezing down. “Stop the fucking car!”
Brian giggled and sped up despite the lack of oxygen, flying on something high. “Stopping crashy boom boom.” He began drifting over the center line, faster than ever.
“Fuck!” The hand around his neck eased enough for him to breathe. Then it gripped his ear fiercely. “Gonna hurt you! Slow down!”
He let Bry feel the pain, squeal and yelp, while he focused on his driving. There. An old stone wall ran along a field, coming to a corner where the culvert ran under the road. He’d almost clipped it once by accident. He resisted the impulse to slow down, to do it easy. What does Nick always say? Go big or go home.
Not yet… not yet… now! He stomped on the brake, slammed the wheel right, and let the car slew around and off the road. Metal crashed stone. His seatbelt dug into his chest and shoulder. With a bang, the airbag blew up in his face, smothering and white. Something punched his ribs. Shot? Car? In the banging, tumbling mess he couldn’t tell. They spun, tilting.
Then everything went quiet. His gasping breath was the loudest sound. His chest hurt. His ribs ached. He fought free of the airbag and fumbled for his seatbelt. The car was tilted with his side down, and the dented door swung open but stuck halfway. He squeezed out, hitting his hands and knees in cold, wet mud.
He hauled himself upward and looked into the back of the car. The door was caved inward. A thin man in black clothes and a ski mask lay sprawled across the seat. As Brian stared at him, he began moving one arm and raising his head.
Run! Brian took one step away from the car, then shouted, “Fuck that!” Nick wouldn’t run.
He struggled around to the other side of the car and managed to haul the door open against the pull of gravity. Reaching inside, he clamped his hand around a sock-clad ankle and hauled, teeth clenched against the pain that flared in his side. The man groaned and moved aimlessly, but Brian was able to snag the other foot too. He backed up, grateful for his new farm-built muscles, hauling the man out of the seat and onto the shoulder of the road.
There was blood below the man’s nose and around his mouth, soaking into the black wool mask. His eyes were open but not focused on Brian, and he made no move to get up. Now what? Tie him up? That would make sense. The trunk had popped open in the crash, and there was a spare leash in it. By the time Brian had it in his hands, the man was moving, rolling over to push up off the ground.
No you don’t! Brian kicked at his elbows, angry enough that he didn’t care that the guy collapsed on his face. Brian sat on his thighs for good measure. Hah, it’s good to be big. He managed to get the leash around the man’s wrists and pulled it as tight as he could, ignoring a pained yelp and mumbled curses.
The man under him bucked feebly, trying to kick. Can I tie his legs? He’d spent months wrestling sheep and goats, tying ropes. I can do it. He got a loop around one of the man’s ankles and cinched it up tighter and tighter until his foot met his bound hands, then knotted it securely. There wasn’t enough left to tie the other foot, but the guy wasn’t going anywhere with one leg behind his back.
Now what? The adrenaline that’d kept him moving was draining out of him, leaving him shaky again. His side and face throbbed, the pain sharper, distracting. He sat on the man’s free leg, a hand on his back, pushing down whenever he started to wriggle harder, and tried to think.
Call Nick. He dug his free hand into his pocket. As he touched his phone, a car roared up the road behind him and pulled over with a squeal of brakes. He tensed, muscles twitching. I’m pinning a guy down with a rope around his leg! How do I explain this? Bry desperately wanted to babble— no, Brian wanted to go fuzzy and babble, be Bry, not really be responsible… but then they’d think he was crazy, and maybe let the bad guy go. He sucked in a deep breath and squared his shoulders. Calm. Be Brian. I can do this too.
