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She swept past him and then, as if reconsidering, turned back. She glared at him, but kept her voice down. “The only way any of this will work is if you treat me like you would any other cop. You treat me like a girlfriend, and it’s over. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
He understood—at least he thought he did. A tiny bit of hope trickled through him. “Right. Just like any other fellow officer, I want you to go home at the end of your shift in one piece. Be careful.”
She took off, balancing a stack of towels in one hand and pulling a cart of cleaning supplies that camouflaged her weapon across the pothole pitted parking lot. Cooper slapped his shoulder lightly, and he was forced to follow the older man. Baker brought up the rear. They crept around the back of the tiny cottage, careful to stay away from two grimy windows. The curtains were drawn. Nothing to see, no hint of what was happening inside.
Silently, Cooper slipped up to the back door and fumbled with a tiny pin flashlight in one hand. He had a radio to his ear. After a second he whispered. “Chavez opened the door. They’re talking.”
Cooper stuck the radio in his back pocket and slipped the key into the lock. He eased the door open an inch, two inches. A little more until he could tilt his head and see inside. He eased the door open just a crack, a little more enough for Alex to squeeze through, then Baker.
Cooper nodded toward the bedrooms. Baker disappeared into the first one. Alex tiptoed down the short hallway to the front of the cottage. He could hear Cooper’s soft tread behind him. The light in the living area blinded him for a second.
Then he could make out the two people at the front door. Girls sitting on the couch. The two boys crouched on the floor. Someone was crying.
“Tómas Chavez, you’re under arrest for the murder of Nina Chavez, the murder of Ezra Dodge, conspiracy to commit kidnapping and whatever else we can think of. You have the right to remain silent.” It took Alex a second to focus on the gun. She’d already pulled her gun. She’d moved too quickly. “If you choose to give up that right—”
Chavez backed up a few steps, still holding the towels Deborah apparently had handed him. Deborah moved forward, into the room. Chavez chuckled, a soft ugly sound. “Chiquita bonita, you don’t want to mess with me. Pretty lady, come on, we have nice time you and me. Just give me the gun.’
“You killed a little girl, Chavez, and an innocent woman, now you’re going to pay for it.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, pretty lady. You put down the gun, and I’ll show you a real good time.”
Wrong tact to take with Deborah. Alex started forward. Deborah steadied her Glock. She was aiming high. “You’ll never hurt anyone again. The heart or the head, do you have a preference, Mr. Chavez?”
Chavez threw the stack of towels at Deborah, whipped out the weapon he’d been holding behind him, and fired in one quick motion. The room lit up with the shot and the smell of gunpowder ballooned in the air.
Deborah returned fire. She went down in a heap on the floor. Alex fired before he realized that he’d pulled his weapon. Chavez staggered. His arms flopped. His gun dropped to the floor.
“I’m hit,” he muttered. He teetered, took one more step, and crumpled into the sofa face down next to Esperanza and Estrella.
The two girls screamed and threw themselves to the floor. Their high pitched squeals reverberated around Alex. Dom crept across the floor toward them, dragging Frankie with him. His mouth gaped open, but no sound came out.
Alex didn’t see any blood on any of them, so he bolted toward Deborah. She sat on the floor, back against the doorframe. The walls seemed to squeeze together and fall apart as his heart banged back and forth in his chest. “Where’d he hit you?”
“Treat me . . . like . . . any other cop, remember?” She grimaced and gasped. “It’s not bad. Not bad. I had to go for it. Frankie was excited to see me. Dom tried to stop him, but he was about to give me away.”
“Shut up.” Alex lifted the sweater. Blood was already seeping through her blouse. He slid his hand behind her head and gently eased her away from the wall and down to the floor.God, please. God. Don’t take her. The people in my life have always left me. Let her be the one that stays. I’m begging you. Please.
He ripped his cell phone from his pocket and jabbed in 911 with one hand, trying to shrug off his jacket at the same time. “Where are we? How do I tell them where we are?” Frantic, he sought Baker’s gaze. “Is there a hospital in this town? How long will it take to get an ambulance out here?”
“I’ll take care of it.” Baker already had his phone to his ear. He headed toward Cooper who bent over Chavez lying motionless on the couch. “Is he alive?”
“He’s dead.”
One of the girls whimpered. Cooper eased down next to her “It’s all right. It’s over.” He glanced over his shoulder. “How’s Detective—how’s Deborah?”
“Bleeding all over—we need an ambulance.” Alex squashed back the panic. He dropped the phone on the end table, balled his jacket it up, pressed it against her chest. “You’re an idiot, Deborah, an idiot.”
“I love it when you sweet talk me like that.” The words were softer, breathless. “I had to make sure he couldn’t hurt those little girls. Everything had to end now. I ended it all.”
“Yeah, you ended it.” He peeked under her sweater again. More blood than he knew what to do with. He pressed the jacket down harder, trying to staunch the flow. She groaned. Her body trembled. He was hurting her, but he had no choice.
She wanted everything to end. She might get her wish.
Chapter Forty-six
“Any news?” Coop strode toward Alex, Styrofoam cup in each hand.
Alex took the coffee and shook his head. “Nothing. They’ve been in there forever.”
