Baxter knew that she was on the verge of passing out. Her skin felt clammy and cold, while the nausea worsened with every passing second. She had propped herself up against the witness stand and kept the gun trained on Wolf, unsure whether she could trust anything that she thought she knew about him any more. As Wolf stepped away from Masse, he stared down at the broken man at his feet, as if surprised by the extent of his own brutality.
Baxter could see that Masse was unconscious but still alive. From where she was sitting, she could just make out the rise and fall of his chest as he gasped for air through his ruined face and could hear the crackle of blood fouling each hard-earned breath. As much as he deserved to suffer, it was impossible not to feel a little sympathy for the discarded body lying face up on the courtroom floor.
The fight had been over well before Wolf had finished with him.
There were shouts close by, snapping Wolf out of his daze. He rushed over to Baxter.
‘Don’t touch me!’ she screamed.
She looked terrified of him and he saw her finger twitch over the trigger.
He raised his arms as best he could.
‘I can help,’ he told her, surprised by her reaction.
‘Stay away from me.’
Wolf realised that his sleeves were sodden with dark red blood.
‘You’re afraid of me?’ His voice cracked as he asked the question.
‘Yes.’
‘This … it isn’t my blood,’ he assured her.
‘And you think that makes it better?’ asked Baxter in disbelief. She was beginning to slur her words. ‘Look at what you’ve done!’ She gestured towards the man dying in the corner. ‘You are a monster,’ she whispered.
Wolf wiped some of Masse’s blood out of his eyes.
‘Only when I have to be,’ he said sadly. His eyes were glistening as he fought to keep his arms raised. ‘I would never hurt you.’
Baxter laughed bitterly at that. ‘You already have.’
Wolf looked wounded and she could feel her resolve weaken.
There was a loud bang somewhere in the building as the Armed Response Unit continued their search.
‘In here!’ she shouted, desperate for it all to be over. Her eyelids fluttered as she struggled to focus. ‘I need the truth, Wolf. Did you do this? Did you set Masse on these people?’
Wolf hesitated.
‘Yes.’
The admission seemed to knock the air out of Baxter.
‘The day Annabelle Adams died,’ he continued. ‘After I was reinstated, I started looking into the stories but I didn’t think it was real! Not really. Not until I saw that list two weeks ago.’ He met Baxter’s eye. ‘I made a terrible, terrible mistake, but I’ve been trying so hard to make it right. I never wanted any of this.’
Baxter had slouched lower to the floor. Her breathing rate had increased dramatically.
‘You could have said something.’ Her voice was slowing as the gun grew heavy. Her arm swayed as she battled to support the weight. ‘You could have come to me.’
‘How could I? How am I supposed to tell you that I did this?’ Wolf looked every bit as damaged as he had in his infamous photograph beside Elizabeth Tate. ‘That I did this to those people, to our friends.’ He looked physically sickened by the puddle of blood that Baxter was sitting in. ‘That I did this to you?’
A reluctant tear escaped Baxter’s eye and rolled down her cheek. She did not have the strength to hide it from him and let it drop to the bloody floor.
‘I would’ve been taken off the case,’ said Wolf, ‘probably suspended. I thought I’d be more use to the team, and I knew I could find him.’ He gestured to Masse. ‘I’d already done all the groundwork.’
‘I want to believe you – but …’
Baxter’s body finally surrendered. The gun dropped into her lap and she slumped to the side.
There were more shouts from out in the Great Hall and the reverberating roar of an unseen enemy approaching. Wolf looked longingly at the door behind the witness stand, aware that a future of captivity was bearing down on him while his escape route stood unguarded …
He gently lowered Baxter’s head to the floor and folded Masse’s crumpled coat underneath her feet to raise her legs above her exhausted heart. She suddenly regained consciousness when Wolf pulled the makeshift tourniquet tighter, crying out as something shifted inside his injured shoulder. It felt as though her leg was going to burst as it throbbed sluggishly in time to her faltering heart. Wolf was kneeling above her, holding pressure over the wound.
‘No,’ whined Baxter, trying to push him away as she attempted to sit up.
‘Stay still,’ he told her. He helped her gently back to the floor. ‘You fainted.’
The words took a moment to sink in. Her eyes darted around as she tried to ascertain exactly where she was, noting that the gun was still on the floor beside her head. To Wolf’s surprise, she held an unsteady hand out to him. He took hold of it, squeezing as tenderly as his cumbersome hands were able.
A clicking sound accompanied the sensation of cold metal around his wrist.
‘You’re under arrest,’ whispered Baxter.
He automatically pulled his hand away to find that Baxter’s followed, dangling limply below it. He smiled down at her fondly, not in the least bit surprised that she would refuse to let something as trivial as a near-death experience interrupt her day. He sat down on the floor beside her, keeping both hands pressed over the source of the bleeding.
‘That letter …’ Baxter started. Despite everything that had happened, she felt she owed him an explanation.
‘It doesn’t matter now.’
‘Me and Andrea were so worried about you. We were trying to help.’
Masse made a guttural groan on the other side of the room before his strained breathing ceased altogether. Baxter glanced over anxiously while Wolf wore a hopeful expression.
A few moments later, Masse spluttered loudly and his breathing resumed.
‘Bollocks,’ whispered Wolf.
Baxter gave him a disapproving look.
‘What were you thinking, coming here on your own?’ asked Wolf. His voice was a mixture of concern, anger, and just a hint of admiration.
‘Trying to save you,’ whispered Baxter. ‘Thought I might bring you in before you got yourself killed.’
‘And how’s that working out for you?’
‘Not so good,’ she laughed. She had regained a little strength since lying down.
‘Clear!’ a gruff voice echoed out in the Great Hall.
She could feel the thud of their boots through the floor as she watched Wolf look back impatiently at the set of open doors.
‘We’re in here!’ he called.
It occurred to Baxter that he had not made a single attempt to justify any of his actions; neither had he tried to convince her to let him go, or asked her to back up some fictional story in support of his innocence. For the first time in his life, he was actually taking responsibility instead of looking for a way out.
‘In here!’ he yelled again.
She took hold of his hand once more, only this time she meant it.
‘You didn’t leave me,’ she said with a smile.
‘I nearly did,’ he smirked.
‘But you didn’t. I knew you wouldn’t.’
Wolf felt the metal slide away from his wrist. He looked down at his free hand in confusion.
‘Go,’ whispered Baxter.
He made no attempt to move and still had one hand pressed firmly against her leg.
The rumble of running boots was approaching like a speeding train.
‘Go!’ she ordered, pulling herself upright against the wood. ‘Wolf, please!’