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He looks away from Max and focuses on me. “I’ll shoot you first, Frenchie, then get my woman.” He waves the Glock again, and I can just see the oversize magazine in the dim light. “I’ve got plenty of bullets in this baby and more magazines too. Micki will come back once you’re out of the way.”
“Don’t fool yourself. She’ll never come back to you. Even when you’re both dead, she’ll be in heaven, and you’ll be in hell.”
“Blow it out your ass.” Then he flips something on the mechanism, steadies the gun on the window frame, and pulls the trigger. The modified Glock, now in automatic mode, wavers wildly as bullets start to spray. We dive for cover. Clay drops to his belly and squeezes off a couple of shots. They hit the van, causing Sam to roll up the window once his magazine is spent. A bullet cracks the windshield.
He must have reloaded because he opens the door and rolls out onto the ground, shooting all the while. Sean and Liam jump on him. The gun, magazine depleted, falls from his hand. The police move in, put on the cuffs, read him his rights, and push him into the back of a blue and white.
All the while, he howls for Micki. “It ain’t over. Just wait and see. My dad has clout. I’ll be out before you know it. I’ll find you. I’ll find you. I’ll hunt you down to the ends of the earth.” I can see him frothing under the sodium lights. “You’re mine. Don’t forget that, Miche. YOU’RE MINE.”
He gives an unearthly cackle and I see her face blanch as he uses an old, unwelcome nickname.
Then his voice, hoarse from screaming, falls silent.
As the cruiser takes him away, Sam glowers through the rear window, teeth bared like the wild animal he is.
Micki’s in the back of the plane with Maman. No tears, but she quivers like autumn leaves in a windstorm. Everyone in the aisle moves aside to let me through. When I reach her, slip my arms around her waist, she clings to me. “All over,” I growl. “He’s on his way to jail. No escape this time. No bail. Nothing.” She backs away, unsure in the whirlpool of my anger.
I want to hit something, but being around all this delicate equipment, I have nothing to take out my frustration on.
“Take it easy, mate.” Max’s hand is on my shoulder, although I don’t take my eyes off Micki. His voice calms me down. “At least he didn’t set the plane on fire.”
Light footsteps patter near. “Is he dead?” Max moves away from me as Cress settles into his arms.
“Dunno.” He kisses the top of her head. “I don’t think Clay hit him. Don’t much care, either. Still, I’d rather see him locked up for life. In solitary confinement. Or, better yet, sharing a cell with that bitch Tina. Put two psychopaths together.” His eyes sparkle with mischief, and Cress laughs.
“Yeah, she attacked me, and he attacked Micki. They would be a perfect pair.”
“You two attract the nutcases. Why’s that?”
“White knights, too.” Max gestures to me, then points to himself.
“I shot at the van to shake him up. Doesn’t that make me a knight, too?” Clay’s lips turn up in another small smile. “Too bad there aren’t co-ed prisons.”
“Maybe in the future.” Metin glows in the aftermath of the excitement. “Fewer jail breaks with connubial bliss.” I’m surprised at the girlish giggle from my usually sober colleague.
Maman calls out, “Mon chou, come here.” I squeeze Micki’s hand.
“Go see your mother,” she breathes against my neck.
Instead, I call out, “Going to find out what’s holding things up,” then walk down the gangway.
* * *
Micki
I’m trying to reassure Louisette when JL comes back with the EMTs. They were out on the runway with the police and Sam.
They busy themselves getting Louisette strapped down safely so they can move her off the plane. In the meantime, she glares at her son, standing nearby with his arm around me, nuzzling my hair.
“Is this because of your job?” Louisette throws the accusation at JL, the query developing into a cough. “You told me you sit behind a desk, but that’s not true. You should find something safer.”
“Maman,” he says sharply. “Relax or you’ll have a relapse. What will I tell Dr. Fitzroy if you die at the end of the flight?”
I interrupt, “It’s me. I’m the reason all this happened.”
“You? I don’t believe it.” Louisette shakes her head in negation, prompting another small cough. Then, with a calculating look, she says, “JL says you’re a lawyer. Did you put a criminal away who wants revenge?” The relish in her voice chills me. But her breathing is steady, and that’s more important than her ghoulish imaginings.
“Too much television, Maman. This is not a murder mystery.”
