At least twelve officers unloaded from the two vans. It took them five minutes to get the place surrounded. The house, once white, had paint peeling off its siding. The yard hadn’t seen a mower in months. The porch steps were concrete and had weeds growing from the cracks. If it wasn’t for the lawn chair on the porch, and the two cars parked in the driveway, one of which was registered to their suspect, the place would have looked abandoned.
Brit, positioned at the side of the porch, covered the side window and had eyes on the porch in case Moses came out fighting. Quarles and Adams were stationed at the back. Duke and Mark, with two officers backing them, took the lead. It was a position Brit had wanted, but Adams refused to give him.
Brit watched Duke and Mark step up on the porch, their guns drawn. The other two officers moved up and bracketed the door. Brit held his breath. Stomach knotted, he waited for them to make their presence known. Brit’s palms began to sweat, the vest heavy on his shoulders. He held tight to his own gun.
We’re going to get him, Keith. We’re going to get him.
~
Cali walked into her apartment. Memories of Brit when he’d helped her clean up filled her heart and she let go of a deep breath.
Her home phone had several messages on it. The blinking yellow light seemed to flash at the same rate as her heart. And with each beat, it hurt.
Her gaze caught on the lamp, the heavy ceramic that was cracked, and she knew if she could see inside her chest, her heart would probably look worse.
She sat on the sofa and pushed the button to see the numbers of those who’d called her. Most of them were listed as unknown. She almost hit the button to listen, but decided against it. If it was Brit, she didn’t want to hear it.
Or did she?
A new wash of tears filled her eyes as she pushed the button.
None of them were Brit.
He hadn’t called to beg for her forgiveness. Though why she wanted him to, she didn’t know, especially since she didn’t even know if she wanted to forgive him.
Or did she?
You can’t fix him.
Her mom’s words filled her head and she cried harder.
A knock came at the door. Brushing her tears back, she remembered that Tanya had insisted on coming by. She’d tried to tell her no, but Tanya didn’t take no for an answer.
Cali walked to the door, opened the lock, and hadn’t gotten her hand on the knob, when someone shoved the door open.
Knocked to the floor, Cali saw the knife and screamed. As she scooted back, scrubbing her butt over the carpet, she managed to focus on the person wielding the weapon over her.
Nolan Bright.
“Where’s your boyfriend, Bitch?”
~
“Police! Open the door,” Duke shouted.
The door came open and Brit saw an elderly woman standing in the doorway.
He heard Duke spouting out orders. Brit’s heart pounded in his ears, and he didn’t hear the conversation, but he saw the old lady nod her head, and then her shoulders seemed to slump in defeat as she stepped outside.
Another officer took her by the arm and moved her off the porch as Duke, Mark, and three other officers stormed the house.
It took everything Brit had not to follow them inside. He wanted to be there when the guy resisted. Wanted his own personal revenge.
He inhaled and the air reeked of cigarette smoke. A vision of Cali filled his head. Pushing the image back, he concentrated on what he was doing. On what he was supposed to be doing. Taking down Keith’s killer.
Brit heard a commotion come from the back. He heard Quarles yell out and Brit took off. No way in hell was he going to lose another partner!
Before he got to the back, he heard the shots. He’d barely cut the corner of the house when the bullet knocked him flat on his ass. The pain took him down the rest of the way.
~
“What do you want?” Cali asked and slowly got to her feet, backing up until her legs hit the end table.
“Where the hell is Stan?” Nolan asked and took a step closer, holding his knife out.
Her heart began to pound and the sound of it seemed to echo in her ears. She started to answer him, to tell him the truth, but something stopped her. “What do you want with him?”
“Unfinished business,” he snapped. His eyes looked glassy. Wild. He looked dirty. Everything from his stringy blond hair to his light gray shirt with stains running down the front needed a good washing. “Now talk or die.”
Her breath caught. Was this it? Was she really going to die like this?
“He’s…not here.”
“I know that, bitch. Where is he?” He took another step closer.
She got the crazy feeling that as long she had something he wanted—information—then he wouldn’t attack. But once he got it…
He’d already killed three people; instinct told her he wouldn’t mind making it four.
“Start talking!” he seethed.
She glanced at the door, left ajar. Could she get past him quickly enough?
She had to try, didn’t she? Heart pounding, adrenalin flowing through her veins, she was poised to run, when the door swung open.
“Cali?” Tanya stood in the open door. Her eyes widened when she saw Nolan and his knife.
Nolan turned.
“Run!” Cali screamed. Not thinking, just acting, she reached for the broken ceramic lamp and swung it hard, harder than she knew she could, right at Nolan Bright’s head.
She heard the sound of it hitting his skull, but didn’t care. Then she bolted to the door and prayed she made it in time.