The Lover's Children novel Chapter 131

KLEMPNER

Screams give way to silence. Sunshine yields to shadows under the canopy. Leaf litter fades to a blanket of pine needles…

Where are they?

Where the fuck are they?

My question is answered by a yell from offside. Then a gunshot. “Stay back. I'll shoot the bastard. Her too.”

Where the hell’s he got the gun from?

Still, at least I know where he is…

The pine needles work for me now, cushioning my footfall as I work my way around.

There…

It's Harkness, limping, bleeding. He looks wild, half-crazed. He has a gun in his hand, aimed at Mitch, but that hand drips blood.

She’s on the ground, bound at the ankles, wrists behind her back. Silent now, she’s half-naked, stripped to the waist, her face, chest, and breasts bloody.

Gagged?

Yes, gagged… Something stuffed into her mouth. I can’t make out what.

But she's struggling.

She's alive.

Harkness hooks an arm under hers, hauling her upright by one hand, his weapon in the other, the muzzle pressed to her neck.

Police issue?

He mugged a cop for his weapon?

Local then. Not a pro.

So where're the specialists?

The van…

They arrived as I rounded the chalet…

So they’re coming up from behind…

And now, looking back I see them: body armour, SMGs. Fanning out to surround. Moving like they know what they're doing. A couple look like snipers, shifting behind trees, positioning themselves so Harkness would have the sun in his eyes

From behind me, the tinny call of a loudhailer. “Patrick Harkness. Give yourself up and surrender your hostage.”

“Fuck off! Fuck off! I’ll shoot her. Don’t think I won’t!”

Slipping off to the left, silently, I work my way around.

*****

JAMES

Sprinting out, I follow the chaos and the yells. The woods are thick with police, converging on some point I can’t make out through the trees. Gasping for air, gripping my ribs against a stitch, I follow the flow.

The trees thin out to a clearing. A wall of uniforms form a barrier two bodies deep.

A pair of medics tend to one officer, apparently half-conscious, blood spilling from a slash over his face. Another pair trot up carrying a stretcher between them.

I spot Chad in the line, then Michael with him, both with their attention fixed on something I can’t see. Catching up with them, wheezing, I blurt out. “What’s happening?”

Michael nods ahead. “They’ve got him cornered. Harkness. But he’s got Mitch. And a gun against her head.” He jerks a thumb back to the injured officer. “A police weapon.”

“Where’s Klempner?”

“Good question.” The two words boom. Will Stanton. “We don’t know. You don’t either?”

Michael shrugs. “He came out ahead of me. I’ve not seen him since.”

Stanton’s eyes ring white against his dark skin. “Not that I would grieve over Harkness if anything happened to him, but I’d rather not see Klempner facing a murder charge on this particular issue.”

“Murder? Defending his wife against a serial killer?”

“Let’s keep it at that level.” Will nods to James. “You’d better come with me. All of you.”

He muscles his way through the press of police. Harkness, his back pressed to a great old oak, stands at bay with Mitch, her neck locked into the crook of his elbow, his gun against her head. Ankles bound, arms locked behind her back, her face is swollen and bleeding, her glorious eyes closing under deep purple-black bruising. Blood streams from her mouth and nose.

“Ye gods,” mutters Michael. “What’s he done to her?”

I call out over the crowd. “Mitch, Vicky is safe. Charlotte has her.”

I’m not sure she can see me, but she hears me, lifting her chin, gurgling something through her gag.

Harkness whips her around. In a split second, striking forward, he backhands her across the face. She cries out, crumpling at the knees, but he tugs her upright, locking his arm around her again, the gun once more pressed to her temple, his body shielded by hers. “Back away or I’ll blow her fucking brains out. And those snipers can fuck off too. If I go, she goes with me.”

Mitch trembles, chest heaving as she struggles for air through her bloodied nose.

Stanton, speaks slowly and deliberately. “Put the gun down, Harkness. You can’t win. The best you can get out of this is that you might live through it. Trust me, taking that woman as a hostage is the dumbest decision you ever made.”

The end of the barrel doesn’t waver. “You think I won’t blow this bitch’s head off? You think I’m scared to do that?”

Stanton opens his mouth to reply, but the words don’t come out…

Harkness freezes, his gaze slanting sidelong and back. At his throat, a hand. And a knife-blade, jagged, glinting.