Hot Water (33 page)

David slumped against his crutches, his body feeling heavier than ever. “Gee, don’t sound so excited.” He tried to bury his disappointment in humor and failed. “Not like I actually need two parents or anything. We’re doing pretty good just like we are.”

“No. David. I didn’t mean—”

The judge’s clerk opened the door, beckoning David inside. “Never mind,” David muttered. “It was a stupid idea.”

The judge’s chambers were behind the courtroom, the clerk explained as she led David down a long corridor with pews on either side, then around an area walled off by a waist-high wooden wall, and through two heavy wood doors.

“Here he is, Judge Mabry,” she called out, giving David a little wave, as if he might get lost if she didn’t send him in the right direction.

David took his time, keeping his head up high as he maneuvered his crutches. He wanted time to study the judge and for the judge to see him as strong, independent. Not a fatherless cripple or a kid too young to have a say in his own future.

Judge Mabry wasn’t very tall and didn’t have much hair left. What little there was grew in long scraggly strands that he’d arranged around a liver spot on the top of his head. David wondered why he didn’t just shave it all off, but he didn’t ask.

“David, it is very nice to meet you.” The judge stood and came around his desk to motion to two adjacent leather chairs.

David took one, carefully arranging his crutches beside him so they wouldn’t fall down and hit one of the many photos that stood on the table between them. Tons of photos of smiling kids, family picnics, birthday parties. David tore his glance from them, hoping the judge wouldn’t be expecting him to produce any such evidence of his own familial bliss.

The judge wasn’t wearing his robes; instead, he had on gray slacks and a short-sleeve plaid shirt—the kind old men wear golfing. His shoes were slip-ons, nothing to tie, and he didn’t wear socks. David suddenly felt overdressed for the occasion.

“You aren’t nervous, are you?”

“No sir.” David was relieved when his voice didn’t crack. “Well, maybe just a little. I’ve never met a judge before.”

The judge smiled and sat back in his chair. “Well, we’re just people like anyone else. Except we’ve been given a very serious job to do. Do you know what that is?”

“Yes sir. You’re going to decide who gets custody of me.” David wasn’t sure if he should quote the West Virginia code, Chapter 49, Article 6 on child welfare or not. He didn’t want to show off or insult the judge.

“That’s right. And this case has turned out to be much more complicated than expected.”

David decided it was time to confess. “I suspect that I’m the cause of that, sir. I should have respected your wishes and not run away from Mr. Masterson.”

The judge nodded but didn’t look too angry. “Is that what you call your paternal grandfather, Mr. Masterson?”

“Yes sir.”

“What do you call your maternal grandparents?”

“Grandma and grandpa. And my great-grandmother is Gram Flora.” David realized he hadn’t had a chance to call Flora; he hoped she was doing okay. Maybe the judge knew. “Do you know if Flora is out of the hospital? Someone needs to be monitoring her diabetes, it’s very difficult to control.”

“She’s fine. Going home today, I was told. You took care of her the other night when she got sick, didn’t you?”

“Sure. Jeremy, er, Mr. Miller, her personal care assistant, taught me how. He’s very good at his job and a good teacher.”

“I imagine you’re an excellent student. I’ve read your school files.”

David wasn’t sure what he could say to that without sounding like a show-off. So he just nodded and waited for the next question. It was obvious that the judge was being very careful about what he was asking. David wondered if he was worried about somehow hurting David’s feelings by making him say something bad about someone he loved or if the judge was trying to protect someone else.

“And what happened in March—your quick thinking helped save lives then as well.”

David didn’t really want to talk about what had happened when his dad died, so he shrugged one shoulder and looked away.

“Which leads me to believe,” the judge continued, “that you’re an extremely bright and capable young man with a promising future. So, you tell me, who do you think would take the best care of you and provide you with the most opportunity for your future?”

Finally, a grownup treating him like an adult. David turned to the judge. “That’s easy, sir. My mother.”

“Really? But Mr. Masterson has all that money—think of the potential.”

“I don’t want my future handed to me bought and paid for,” David declared. “My mother has always taught me that everyone can be their own hero if they just find the courage to fight for what they believe in. I want to grow up to be just like her. I think sometimes you have to learn things the hard way and make mistakes and work hard for something before you discover what really matters and what you really believe in.” He ran out of steam, worried that he’d gone on too long, so quickly added, “Sir.”

The judge stared at him for a long moment. Then he gave a quick jerk of his chin and patted David on the shoulder. “Very well said, young man. Have you considered a career in law?”

The gunman made me drive Ty’s F-150. We didn’t see anyone as we left Scotia and headed toward Smithfield. At first I was worried he was taking me to the courthouse, conjuring up all sorts of doomsday scenarios where he used me to get to David, but then he made me pull off at the scenic viewing area overlooking the New River Gorge.

The place was empty—usually was; hardly anyone came here except for teenagers looking for a make-out spot at night. Once we left the parking lot and walked down the path to the rock ledge, the trees hid us from sight of the road.

“Don’t you love this view?” he asked, heaving in a breath, his chest stretching the button-down shirt he wore. “No wonder so many choose to make it their last.”

I froze, digging my heels in on the gravel path. He took my elbow, effortlessly forcing me past the observation area into a boulder-strewn meadow that ended in a sheer drop-off. It was at least a thousand feet down to the bottom of the gorge.

“No one would ever believe that I’d kill myself,” I tried to reason with him. “You won’t get away with it.”

“Well, now, I admit it’s not as nuanced as my usual methods,” he drawled, “but the beauty of it is that it doesn’t matter if people believe it or not. You’ll be dead and I’ll be gone, and no one will ever be able to prove what really happened here today.”

I had no idea what to say to that. We’d reached the last line of boulders. I dropped my weight suddenly, twisting free of his grasp for one short moment, and ran. Of course the damn heels slipped on the long meadow grass, landing me smack on my face.

At least he didn’t laugh as he hauled me to my feet. “You really are something, AJ Palladino. I’m almost sorry to see this come to an end.”

“At least tell me who hired you,” I pleaded. “It was Masterson, wasn’t it?”

He merely shook his head like I was asking him to do something naughty and spun me in his grasp until he held me with one arm around my throat, not quite choking me but definitely able to control my movements.

“He’s after my son, David,” I continued. “Please, if you’ve met the man, you know what he’s like, you can’t let him take my son. I have a ten-year-old son, he’s a brilliant, wonderful boy—did you know that?” I was babbling, sobbing, saying anything that came to mind. I clawed at his arm but couldn’t loosen his iron grip. “Please, just tell me that you won’t hurt David, that he’s safe.”

“I don’t kill children,” he said, his voice a low growl as if I’d offended him. “David is safe.”

He tightened his grip and my vision blackened. Too late I realized his plan—choke me unconscious, then toss my body over the edge. No sign of a struggle that way.

He dragged me onto a boulder and leaned back so I couldn’t reach any part of his body as I flailed—I even tried going for his groin but hit the boulder instead. I fought like I’d never fought for anything before, reaching for his eyes to claw them out, craning to bite him, anything to fight free. It was all useless.

Just as my head thundered with a roar of blood and I knew it was all over, I heard a dog bark.

The man loosened his grip. Slowly my vision returned. Ty stood at the edge of the meadow, his gun aimed at the man’s head.

“Drop it!” Ty shouted. Nikki circled in front of us to one side of Ty, not crossing his line of fire, her teeth bared.

Ty was so focused that for a moment I wondered if he even saw me. Of course he did. But Ty was good at his job.

Thank God. Because that was probably my only way out of this alive. My body half lay, half sat on the boulder, the gunman behind me.

Ty kept moving forward as the gunman yanked me back, forcing me to sit up and shield him.

“Stop,” the man called. “Drop your gun or I’ll kill her.”

That wasn’t going to happen. Ty always scoffed at hostage scenes in movies where the cops gave up their guns. “All you end up with is a dead cop along with a dead hostage,” he’d said. When David had asked him what a real cop would do, he’d shrugged. “You do the best you can. Sometimes you can’t save everyone. But a good cop always makes sure he makes it home alive so he can save someone else the next day.”

Which meant I was probably going to die.

But right here, right now, all I could think about was what an easy target Ty made, standing there out in the open. I tried to remember if he’d put his vest on—he’d worn his uniform during the long drive from South Carolina, but I had a sudden, terrifying image of his Kevlar vest lying on the back seat of the Tahoe.

If I could find the strength to shout I would have told him to leave, but when I opened my mouth it was all I could do to drink in the oxygen the choke hold had deprived me of.

The gunman was no dummy. He crowded his body behind mine so that there was no way Ty would be able to hit him without shooting me.

“I said, drop your gun,” he shouted at Ty. “Don’t push me, Deputy. I mean what I say.”

“I know you do, Mr. Hutton.”

The man jerked suddenly. “Then you also know that I need to finish what I started.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” I finally managed to ask. My voice was a scratchy whisper but Ty heard.

“Mr. Hutton here was an employee of Masterson’s,” Ty answered, edging closer. “Until the night ten years ago when he vanished. Same night you almost died, AJ.”

He was stalling for time. I played along. “You mean, he—”

“There’s been no trace of him since. No employment or tax records.” Ty paused. “I’m guessing that’s because people like Mr. Masterson pay him in cash. But before then he worked for Masterson driving a coal truck. Just like the one that ran you off the road ten years ago.”

The gunman froze. Then laughed. “Okay, so you can add two and two. Even if it did take you ten years. All the more reason for me to kill you both.”

Ty kept walking. “Really? Because you might shoot me, but not before my partner gets you.” He gave Nikki a whistle and she stalked closer to us. “Or you can let AJ go and testify to the truth of what really happened ten years ago and who hired you now to make sure Masterson got custody of David. We can arrange protection if you’re frightened of him.”

Damn, Ty was good. He was hitting all of the gunman’s vulnerabilities. I could tell because I could feel Hutton’s muscles tighten, plastered against his body as I was.

“I’m not afraid of Masterson!”

“Then why are you letting him call the shots? I’m sure targeting frail old ladies and the mentally ill isn’t your usual MO.” Ty paused, frowning, while from the side, Nikki crept closer, her gaze locked onto Hutton. “Maybe I have it all wrong and you’re not a professional?”

Hutton’s teeth ground together, the cracking noise echoing through my skull, his face was so close to my ear. Another bull’s-eye for Ty. I slanted my gaze, noted that Nikki had inched even closer. Unfortunately Hutton saw her as well.

“Call the dog off!”

Ty whistled to Nikki and she froze, waiting for his signal. Still at full alert, poised to pounce. She was about twenty feet away—but I’d seen her cover that much ground in a flash.

“Shoot that dog or I’ll shoot the girl!”

“No, Ty, don’t,” I shouted.

But almost as if he hadn’t heard, Ty pivoted, whistled a command to Nikki, and, when she turned to him, fired.

Nikki flopped to the ground. The meadow went silent as the gunshot echoed across the gorge and faded into oblivion, then Nikki gave out a painful whimper.

Unable to restrain myself, I broke away from Hutton’s grip and lunged toward Nikki’s motionless body. To my surprise he didn’t just let me go, he gave me a hard shove that sent me tumbling directly into Ty’s line of fire.

Once more I did a face plant flat into the dirt. Ty rushed to me, gathering me into his arms. By the time I looked up, the gunman had vanished.

An engine’s roar and the screech of tires on pavement sounded in the distance.

“You shot Nikki,” I cried, fighting his embrace. “Ty, how could you?”

In the past, I’d been a little jealous of Ty and Nikki’s partnership—he’d take a bullet for her, he often said. How could he kill his partner just to save me? Betray a partner, a loved one? It was totally unlike Ty—the person or the lawman.