Part 32 (1/2)

Her fingers made contact with her holster as he tugged on her leg. She fought to kick free, but the grip was too tight. She caught his leg with one kick. He cursed. She clambered toward the gun, caught the leather holster in her fist.

She felt his whole weight on her. Agony ripped through her as he punched into the small of her back.

She collapsed, smas.h.i.+ng her chest on the emergency brake. She let herself go still. Struggled to inhale. Clung to her weapon. Every move was torture as she struggled to free the gun from the holster. She gasped for air, fought against the pain-in her ribs, in her chest, in the small of her back. Her eyes teared. She blinked to clear her vision. Felt them tear again. Finally, the gun snapped free. She gasped, cradled it to her chest. Cried harder.

Marchek yanked her out of the car by her legs. Letting herself be pulled, she slipped and slid across the seat until her knees touched the cold cement of the garage. The gun was cradled to her chest.

He growled in anger, clutched a fistful of her hair. He wrenched her head back. She heard the shearing whisper of hair ripping from her scalp, the pain like scalding water.

She cried out.

Marchek laughed. ”Why don't we do it right here in the garage, then, copper? As good a spot as any.”

He jerked her back. Still clasping her hair, he shoved her toward the floor. When he let go of her hair to push her down, she dropped flat to the floor, rolled onto her back.

Panting, aching, she held the gun straight out above her. Chambered a round.

Marchek halted. His mouth formed a small 'O' as he lifted his hands into the air.

Jamie pushed herself up slowly, using her free hand to scale the garage shelves until she was sitting. Her heart pounded in her ears as she watched the rise and fall of Marchek's chest, his own breathing labored. His last breaths.

”You can't shoot an unarmed man,” he said, taking a step backwards. He smiled slowly. ”Officer.”

Jamie stared. Tried to clear her mind, to think. But the rush of anger and pain clouded her brain. Like the sky of a burning sunset, red was all she saw.

Marchek took another step backwards.

Jamie blinked quickly, aimed with two hands. She pulled the trigger.

The first shot hit the zipper of his pants, where he kept the weapon he'd used to rape at least five women.

Then she fired again left, at the heart, then right to be sure. Unlike in the movies, there was no change in Marchek's expression. He didn't look down at the wounds or stagger around. There was only the brief flash of his legs giving way as he dropped to the ground just before the blood began to pool.

She didn't move for several seconds-maybe it was more. The gun still out in front of her, she gripped it her arms began to shake.

”You weren't unarmed, Marchek. Not now, not ever.”

Slowly, s.h.i.+vering, she moved to call for backup.

Chapter 35.

Jamie walked out of the hospital the next morning through the same door she usually entered to interview victims of people like Marchek. And now she was the victim-almost. Almost, she told herself. Not quite. Marchek hadn't gotten her-at least not in the way her victims suffered.

And yet she realized with sudden clarity that the act of rape began way before penetration. Rape. She could have gone home last night. She hadn't broken anything. She was bruised-everything was bruised. But there were no cracks in her ribs. Even slamming the door on her, that b.a.s.t.a.r.d hadn't broken anything except for one finger. But when she closed her eyes, she imagined him coming down on top of her. She blinked hard, forced the image away. Wondered how long those images would bombard her. No. She knew they would never stop.

She stopped outside the hospital door, lit a cigarette and sucked it until her lungs could draw no more smoke. She held the breath, the buzz burning away her headache. Let it slowly out. Without moving, she repeated the motion until the cigarette was gone.

Marchek was dead. She'd finally gotten him. She thought about the reports that would have to be filed. She'd had to turn in her gun. There were tests to be performed, interviews with IA. She'd be on probation until she was cleared of any wrongdoing. At that moment, though, even the bureaucratic bulls.h.i.+t seemed worth it.

Jamie shook another cigarette from the pack, noticed her trembling fingers. It worsened as she lifted the lighter, spun the metal wheel with her thumb, and heard the flame whisper.

As she took the first drag, she saw her beat-up Subaru pull to the curb. The last officer she'd interviewed said someone was coming to get her and take her home. He didn't say who; she didn't ask. After three separate interviews and more than two hours of questions, she was done talking. But she'd hoped it would be Hailey. This would be harder.

She watched Tony step out of her car. He wiped his palms on his pants as if he were picking up a date for the junior prom. She didn't move toward him. It took all she had not to turn back into the hospital, not to run.

When he reached her, he touched her cheek, skimming his thumb over one of the nasty bruises from Marchek.

She flinched.

He reached his arms around her, pulled her to his chest. ”When they called, I thought you were gone,” he whispered and she felt his hands in her hair.

She let out a moan as he tightened his arms around her chest. He loosened his arms, not letting go. ”s.h.i.+t. Are you okay?”

”I ache,” she admitted. ”Everything aches.”

”G.o.d, I'm so glad you're okay.”

She leaned against him, stayed there. Closed her eyes.

”Did they give you anything?” he asked.

”A prescription for Vicodin.”

”You want to fill it?”

She shook her head, stepped back. ”Too tempting.”

”I'd be okay.”

”I wasn't talking about you.”

He nodded. ”You ready?”

”Did you see it? What's it look like?”

He frowned. ”What?”

”The house-the garage?” She pictured the blood everywhere.

”It's clean. I cleaned it up. Installed the washer and dryer, too.” He shrugged. ”Couldn't sleep.”

It was gone. The blood would be gone. She'd still see it, of course. And him. It would all still be there for her. But at least it was physically gone. ”Thank you.”

They turned to the car.

There was silence, but she knew what was on both their minds. The subject would come up. It was time.