Frederick rolled down his window so that they could hear, but he kept the Subaru back far enough that they didn’t tip off Carson to their presence.
“I want you to get everyone away from here,” Carson was saying. “Or I will kill her. I have nothing to lose. Except for you. You stay. Put your gun on the ground and lie down on your stomach.”
Carson began to move toward the rear of the van, Mercy in his grasp. He was holding her so that she had to stand on her tiptoes to breathe. Her wrists were bound.
God, Mercy, I’m so sorry. Because Gideon knew Carson had nothing against Mercy. She’d been convenient. He wanted me. And Daisy.
“I’m not seeing your gun on the ground, Sokolov,” Carson called. “I’m serious.”
“So am I,” Rafe called back. “If I throw down my gun, you’ll just kill us both. Why would I do that?”
There was a very long pause where Carson said nothing, just inched his way to his right. “Because I have nothing to lose,” he finally said, his voice now eerily calm.
“Look,” Daisy whispered. “Beyond the van.”
Gideon ripped his eyes from his sister’s face. “Erin,” he whispered.
Erin crept up from the rear, her weapon in her hand, but Carson must have heard her because he turned around, trying to look over his shoulder while Rafe edged closer.
Carson roared, lifting Mercy completely off her feet, when he realized that Rafe was now only a few feet away. Mercy was squirming, her mouth wide open on a silent scream. Raising her bound hands to his arm, she was trying to get air.
Gideon put his hand on the door handle, not wanting to distract Rafe or Erin, but unable to watch Mercy suffer.
“Let her go!” Rafe shouted. “You’re not escaping this time, Carson. Let her go!”
“Or what?” Carson taunted, still holding Mercy off the ground.
She was writhing now and even from this distance Gideon could see her face getting red. Carson jerked around and saw Erin, who was only a few yards away.
“I said stay back!” he thundered, then crouched about a foot, making himself smaller, sheltering from Erin behind the van. Making Mercy his shield. At least that put both of her feet on the ground again and she no longer gasped for breath.
But neither of the cops had a clear shot.
Then Carson whipped the gun away from Mercy’s head long enough to fire two shots at Rafe, the first hitting him in the gun arm, the second in the opposite leg.
Just like Gideon had done, Rafe dropped his gun, his arm hanging limply. But the second shot cut Rafe down. He stumbled to the ground and didn’t get up, his leg gushing blood, falling bright on the snow. His uninjured arm alternated between reaching for the gun he’d dropped and putting pressure on his leg.
Enough. Gideon simply could not sit still a second longer. He removed his gun from the holster at his belt and slid it into the waistband at his back so that Carson wouldn’t see it at first glance. He didn’t want Carson to shoot Mercy because he felt cornered, but as soon as Gideon got a chance, he was putting a bullet in that monster’s bald head.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured to Daisy, then got out of Rafe’s Subaru and began walking toward Carson.
Mercy had been struggling to get away, but Carson quickly returned the gun to her temple and her struggling ceased. Carson’s head was against the van, turned so that he watched the back corner of it, waiting for Erin. He was looking away from Gideon’s approach.
“I know you’re back there, Detective Rhee,” Carson said. “I want you to throw that gun in my direction and then I want you to walk toward your partner, but stay at least six feet away from him. Then lie down on the ground. Now! Or the next bullet goes in your partner’s head and the bullet after that goes in yours.” He screamed the final command and a gun came flying past the van.
“Good,” Carson said, his voice rife with satisfaction, his body maintaining the crouch, protecting his head. “Keep walking, Rhee.”
Erin stepped into Carson’s line of sight, a gun in her hand, shocking him. His gaze flicked to the gun in the snow, then flicked back. She’d thrown away her backup.
Erin aimed the gun at his head. “Let. Her. Go.”
Carson twisted, now fully facing Erin. He was still crouched so that Mercy was his shield, his gun still at Mercy’s temple.
Gideon heard his sister whimper as he emerged from the shadow of Erin’s Range Rover, its headlights still illuminating the space.
“Let. Her. Go.” Gideon held his good arm out to show he was empty-handed. “I’m unarmed,” he lied. “Let her go. You know you want me instead.”
Carson chuckled. “How sweet. But you’re going to have to do better than that, Reynolds.”
Gideon swallowed hard, meeting Mercy’s wide eyes, aware of Rafe bleeding. “I’m sorry,” he said to Carson. “I’m so very . . . sorry. Please don’t hurt her. Take me instead.”
PLACERVILLE, CALIFORNIA
TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 21, 4:20 A.M.
Daisy’s heart was in her throat, choking her. For a few seconds she watched in shock as Gideon walked into the line of fire.
“Holy mother of God,” Frederick murmured.
“What was that, sir?” the 911 operator asked. Frederick had called seconds after Rafe was hit, describing the scene and asking for medical assistance.
“This situation has escalated further,” Frederick whispered harshly. “Where the hell is the SWAT team that the Feds supposedly sent?”
Daisy sat frozen in horror, and then her brain rallied. “Hell, no,” she spat, scrambling over the bench seat to the back of the Subaru, finding the gun safe Rafe had mentioned. It wasn’t a small gun safe. It was long enough for rifles. Please, please let there be a loaded rifle in here.
She put in the code—Irina’s birthday—then opened the front to find a rifle and two handguns. She took the rifle and gave her father the handgun along with her own cell phone, then slid from the backseat to stand on the ground.
“Call Molina,” Daisy told him quietly but urgently. “Her number’s in my contacts. Ask her where the fuck the SWAT team is. Ask her where the fuck she is.”
Keeping the car door open, she rolled the window down and used the frame to balance the rifle. It was too heavy for her to hold. She was tired and her hands were shaking.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Frederick demanded, still whispering.
“I’m going to finish what I started on Thursday night. I should have taken his gun, not just knocked it away. Call Molina, dammit. Now.”
Frederick let out a breath. “Operator, I need to go.” He ended the call as the operator was telling him not to. And then he dialed Molina, just as Daisy had asked.
She steadied her hands, trying not to be distracted by her father’s conversation with Molina. The woman and her SWAT team would come in time or they wouldn’t. If they don’t, I’ll do what I have to do. But when she looked through the rifle’s scope, her heart stopped.
Gideon’s loud voice carried easily across the field. “You want me to beg?” he asked Carson, his desperation crystal clear. “Fine. I’ll beg. Take me instead. Please.”
And then Gideon dropped to his knees in front of Carson.
Daisy’s terror ratcheted up, even though she recognized Gideon’s action as a distraction. At least she hoped so. Oh God. Please don’t die. Please don’t die.
Carson’s eyes followed Gideon’s downward motion, his chin dipping, his mouth falling open in shock, distracted for a split second—a second that Mercy used to swing her bound hands up in an arc and squeeze Carson’s bandaged hand.
The bald man yelped and Mercy made herself dead weight, dropping from his arms and crawling toward Rafe. Erin stepped forward, jabbing her gun at Carson’s back.
Erin’s clear command carried to the Subaru. “Drop the gun and hands in the air.”
Slowly Carson began to lower the gun, then switched speeds, swinging his arm back and firing blindly. Her grunt of pain confirmed a hit. She staggered back, one hand to her chest. She fired once as her body hit the ground, but it went wide.
“Fuck,” Frederick said, moving to open his car door.
“Wait,” Daisy snapped. “She was wearing a vest.”
“She took that point-blank,” Frederick argued. “She’ll have broken ribs. Or worse.”
“She’s alive at the moment. Do not walk into my line of sight. Where is the SWAT team?”
“Five minutes out and closing. Molina’s with them. They have air coverage, too.”
“I don’t think we have five minutes,” Daisy muttered.
Erin lay on her back, gasping for breath, staring straight up at the sky, and Carson lifted his gun to shoot her again. Daisy had him in her scope and started to pull the trigger, but cursed when Gideon drew his weapon from behind his back as he came to his feet and started to rush forward.
Then gasped when Gideon came to an abrupt halt. His gun was pointed at Carson’s head. And Carson’s gun was aimed at Gideon’s. Both held their weapons in their nondominant hands. Neither had the advantage and they stood in stalemate for several painful seconds that felt like years.