Busted (45 page)

It took Joe all of five seconds to run from the hallway to the second floor. He heard the nasty laughter as soon as he made it to the top, and it led him right to the master bedroom.

He gave a strangled little cry as he stopped in the doorway. Chris was sprawled out on the ground next to the bed, his head against the nightstand. He looked dazed, his eyes a little unfocused. The lamp that stood on the nightstand was wobbling, throwing odd flashes of light around the room.

Standing almost in the doorway was a man Joe didn't recognize, though he could only see his back. He was a little shorter than Joe, wearing a baseball hat and a faded blue work shirt. Bits of straight black hair stuck out from around the edges of the hat, and the skin Joe could see was a dark tan. His left arm was outstretched, palm open and pointing at Chris.

His right arm was cradled around a smaller form, the small head of black hair barely showing around the man. Toby. The man's posture was familiar. He couldn't see it, but Joe was sure he was holding a knife near Toby's throat.

Joe froze, unsure what to do. His charge up the stairs hadn't been planned, he'd just done it. And while he might have had a gun, the guy had a knife far too close to Toby to be safe. Joe’s fear had the upper hand, and he just didn't think he could shoot a man from behind.

That didn't stop him from raising the gun and pointing it at the man.

"Drop the knife," Joe said, in as deep a voice as he could muster. He hoped the quaver he felt didn't come out in his voice.

His voice brought Chris out of his daze. When he'd hit his head the distraction had let the fog rush in for a moment. His eyes widened as he saw Joe in the doorway to the bedroom, Chris' service pistol in his hand, pointed straight at the head of the man holding Toby.

Joe was a strange sight, standing there. The grey silk lining of his jacket shimmered, broken by seams and pockets. His left arm was half hidden under the coat, which was falling off Joe's shoulder a little, exposing the straps of his sling. Joe's face was pale with fear, the contrast with his bright red hair and the dark jacket making him look ashen.

Chris was terrified that the maniac would hurt Toby. He was between Chris and Joe, a tenuous position at best. Toby was leverage, and Joe wasn't nearly a good enough shot to end the standoff safely. Even if he was, Chris wasn't sure he wanted Toby to have to deal with that, having the brains of the man holding him prisoner splattered all over him.

The strange thing was that the man didn't react, as if he hadn't heard Joe. He didn't turn until he saw Chris look behind him, and even then it was only a glance.

"A nice trick, Detective. It won't work."

Chris struggled to keep his voice calm. "Can't blame me for trying," he said.

"Oh, but I can. I can," he replied, his grin wide and feral.

Joe was puzzled. He'd been loud enough that there was no way he hadn't been heard. The man had clearly heard Chris, so he wasn't deaf. And while he hadn't looked directly at Joe, there wasn't any way he could have missed seeing him in the doorway. That just didn't make any sense.

He worried that it might be a trick, but Joe decided it just didn’t matter. The worst that could happen was he’d get attacked — he’d been stabbed once, and while it hurt like hell, he knew he'd survive. Chris could use the distraction to get Toby safe. Joe started edging around to the man's right, the gun wobbling but never losing its target.

"You won't make it out of here," Chris said, defiance in his voice. He was just as puzzled as Joe was, over his 'grandfather's' apparent blindness to Joe.

"I think I will, grandson," he said. "I think I will, and there's nothing you can do to stop me."

'Grandson?' Joe mouthed. Chris shrugged and started to stand.

"No, I think I like you down there," the man snapped. Chris sat back down, his legs bent and to his right. It was an uncomfortable position, but the best he could manage. It there was an opening he'd be able to move fast enough to grab Toby. There was something wedged between him and the nightstand, something fuzzy. He pulled it out. Snuffles.

Holding the bear seemed to push the fog away, letting Chris' head clear.

Snuffles may have cleared Chris head, but he also broke the spell that hid Joe. The maniac stiffened as he realized they weren't alone any more.

"You! How are you…" he trailed off when he realized there was a gun pointed straight at his head.

"Let. Toby. Go." Joe's voice was low and angry.

Toby started to whimper as the fog cleared from his own mind. Something was very wrong. His Papa was on the ground, looking angry and scared. His Uncle Joe was next to him and sounded mad, but he couldn't turn his head to look. A strange man was holding him tight and there was something cold near his throat.

"Papa?" he whimpered. "Papa I'm scared."

"Now!" Joe snarled. He wanted to move in closer, to grab Toby away. He wanted to shoot, put a bullet right through the head of the man standing in front of him. The only thing truly stopping him was he was too close. The report from the shot would be loud enough to hurt Toby.

The maniac pulled Toby in closer.

"I don't think so," he said. He turned a little, facing Joe as much as Chris. "I don't think you will. Not in front of the boy." The smile that had faltered just a moment ago was back in full force. The malevolence was there, turning Joe's stomach.

"Try me," he spat. His hand was sweaty, making the gun in his hand a little slippery.

"Oh, I think not. No, not. You won't shoot, will you?"

Joe could feel something try and reach out, try and claw at his mind. It was weak and ineffective. Joe gave an answering grin.

"You can't make it out of here," he said. "It's not happening."

"Put down the knife," Chris said. "Put it down and let Toby go and nobody has to be hurt." This was the last thing he ever wanted, to have to deal with a hostage situation with his own son. He was shocked, too, at Joe's fierceness. He knew the man had a temper and a sharp tongue, but right then Chris wouldn't have been surprised to see Joe tear the man's heart out. Not that he wouldn't happily kill the man slowly himself, but he didn't realize the depths of Joe's feelings for Toby.

"No, grandson," the man said. "I am going to leave, and I am taking the boy with me.”

"Chris? Can I just shoot him?"

Chris winced. It was bad enough that a homicidal lunatic had his son. He didn't need Joe going all nuts on him.

"That's not helping, Joe," Chris said.

"Help wasn't what I had in mind," Joe snapped. Right then he was having a hard time seeing through the red haze that had fallen over his eyes. He'd never been so furious before.

"Then get it in mind," Chris snapped back. He needed to get Joe thinking clearly. Angry people did stupid things, and the last thing he needed right then was someone being stupid while Toby was in danger.

Joe whipped his head around and stared at Chris. He was about ready to let loose when Chris when he did something odd – he made Snuffles wave at Joe. It was a little thing, barely noticeable, but it was incongruous enough that Joe just stopped.

"I had it under control," Chris said. He was a little louder than he needed to be, but he didn't quite sound angry. Joe was puzzled, not sure what Chris was doing.

"Typical," Chris said. "It's just like you to come and make a scene."

"Oh, like you were doing great when I got here," Joe shot back. He hoped it was what Chris wanted.

"A madman had my kid. What did you expect me to do?"

"Something better than lying on the floor."

"Yeah, maybe I could just go run away."

That hit a lot closer to home than Joe wanted to think of. He cringed inside, though he forced it not to show. "What is that supposed to mean?" His anger started to grow again, though this time he was angry at himself. Chris was right. He'd just cut and run, without giving Chris a chance.

"You know exactly what I mean!"

"I did not run. You threw me away, you bastard!"

The man holding Toby looked back and forth at the two men who had seemingly forgotten him.

"Gentlemen," he said, trying to get their attention.

"Shut up!" Chris and Joe shouted that as one, startling the man. He flinched at the ferocity directed at him.

Taking the opportunity, Chris threw the teddy bear in his hand. The man batted it away by reflex, striking at the bear with the knife he held.

As soon as his arm moved Joe struck at it, trying to knock the knife away. He didn't succeed, but it gave Chris the opening he needed to reach up and pull Toby free.

With Toby safe Joe stepped in and pointed the gun straight at the man's head, the barrel a scant few inches away from his temple.

"Drop the knife," he snarled.

The man froze for a second. A smile started to creep across his face. "You can't kill me," he said.

"Oh yeah?" Joe asked. His voice wavered a little. The man sounded so sure, and with Toby safe he wasn't positive he actually could shoot. Not in cold blood.

"Yes," he said. He took a small step backwards. "Not in front of my grandson."

Joe let the gun drop a little.

"You're not a killer," the man said. "You can't do it."

The gun dropped a little further down. He was right. Joe couldn't.

"Are you willing to take that chance?" Joe asked.

"Joe," Chris said from behind. Killing someone changed you. He knew that far too well. It was something he hoped Joe never learned. "Don't. Please."

The gun fell further. They were right. He couldn't.

"Maybe I can't," he said finally. "But you're not getting away." The man
 
had a small ratty leather bag hanging from a thong around his neck. Joe lifted his finger off the trigger a little and prodded the bag with the barrel of the gun to emphasize his words.

As soon as the gun touched the bag the man gasped, his eyes suddenly wide with terror. He struck out with the knife at Joe.