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Brook turned her full attention to Lance. Crying, she stroked the sides of his face with her hands and threw her arms around his neck.
Without warning, a shot rang out. Brook and Lance pulled apart with a jerk. Randi rushed back into the room. All three stared first at Marco's weapon and then at the body of Jase, dead on the floor, Brook's gun in his limp, outstretched hand.
"He went for a weapon," Marco stated flatly.
“But I confiscated his gun,” Randi stated, confused.
Shaking violently, Brook sobbed, “It was mine; my gun. Oh god.”
Chapter 66
The house was soon crawling with officers and paramedics.
"I want the paramedics to have a look at you," Randi told Brook. "You're pretty banged up."
Brook peered at her from the shelter of Lance's arms. She didn't want to submit to an examination, but did so anyway at Lance's urging. She received and chose to ignore a recommendation that she go to the emergency room for x-rays of her back. As soon as the cursory exam was finished, Brook clung to Lance again. He put his arm protectively around her shoulders.
Randi spoke quietly with the paramedic and then approached Brook. Her voice was gentle. "I need you to identify the bodies, Brook."
Marco stepped into the kitchen and stopped near the doorway.
"Let's start with this one." Randi gestured toward Jase.
Brook stared at the body with distaste. "Jase. I don't know his last name," she said. "He's the leader of the gang who took me, raped me." Brook almost choked on the words.
"Okay, now we need to look at the others." Randi reached a hand toward Brook. "I know this isn't easy, but Marco and I will be right there on either side of you. You can hang onto our arms, if you want. We'll walk you over and ask you the name of each person. You'll give us the identity, and then we'll turn around and walk away. We'll hold onto you the whole time."
Brook nodded and Lance released her. With a feeling of great dread, Brook positioned herself between the two detectives, but declined their offer of support. She moved with them into the front room. Paramedics were loading Benny onto a stretcher.
"Him?" Marco prompted.
"Benny," Brook spat out. "The one who originally abducted me."
Stepping carefully around the smears of blood, Marco, Randi, and Brook then entered the den and stood over Clark's form. Brook trembled and her knees went weak. The detectives braced her between them and she allowed them to do so. This part of the process was very difficult for her.
Brook shot a panicked look over her shoulder, toward the paramedics in the front room. "Why aren't they helping my husband? Why are they wasting their time on that criminal, that piece of trash?"
"He's gone. There's nothing they can do for him." Randi patted Brook's arm. "Can you confirm for us who this is?"
"It's Clark Parrish, my husband." Brook squeezed the detectives' arms. Tears welled in her eyes. "Oh, Clark. This is all your fault, you poor foolish man."
Randi exchanged a meaningful glance with Marco, storing Brook's comment away for later consideration. Randi cleared her throat to get Brook's attention. "We have to go upstairs now."
Brook met Randi's eyes. "Do I have to? I can already tell you who's up there. It's Pete. The other gang member. And I shot him. Lord help me, I shot him."
"It's okay. We still need you to look," Randi said, her voice calm as they led Brook up the stairs.
Shortly after she identified Pete, the forensic team and medical examiner arrived. Detectives Conroy and Vicente escorted Brook and Lance to the station to take their statements.
Chapter 67
In the wee hours of the next morning, the police finally allowed Lance and Brook to leave. He'd wanted to take her for medical treatment; her condition seemed so fragile. But, she had rallied some hidden strength and refused to see a doctor. Instead, they crawled into Old Reliable and headed for a midtown hotel. He had suggested separate rooms, but Brook said no.
Now, safely ensconced in a comfortable room, Lance stretched out on the bed and regarded his scraped knuckles. Apparently, he had hit Jase harder than he thought. With a dark, humorless smile, he glanced at the bathroom door.
Brooklyn had ducked into the bath shortly after they arrived. She had just finished the phone call to her parents, telling them all that had happened, and making plans for a trip home in the very near future. Then she'd turned to him with a tortured look in her eyes. "I need a few minutes. Alone," she had said. It had been more like an hour, but Lance thought he understood. She couldn't, in good conscience, take immediate comfort from her lover while her mind struggled to accept the violent death of her husband. Soon, though.
At that thought, the door opened and Brook approached the bed. The swelling on her face had diminished somewhat, but a bluish bruise stood out against her pale skin.
