*
It took time, after that, to know what to do. Liz was out when he uncuffed her, and when she woke, they argued. “Charlie needs immediate medical attention,” she said. “So does Gideon.”
“I’m not arguing that.”
“I won’t leave until they’re safe.”
Even in the carnage, she was fiercely protective and certain of what was right. Channing wanted to come with them, and Adrian thought that was just fine. But, Liz would not leave until an ambulance was at the church.
“I can’t be here when the cops come,” Adrian said. “Neither can you. It means prison for both of us. Murder. Accessory to murder. The warrants haven’t gone away.”
“Beckett’s shot through the spine,” Elizabeth said. “We can’t move him.”
“I know, yes. And the boy may be bleeding inside. But, you and I can go. So can the girl.”
Elizabeth turned to Channing, who was so small and rolled inward she looked no more than ten. Liz took her hand and knelt. “No one will blame you for what you did, sweetheart. You’re the victim. You can stay.”
She shook her head. “No.”
“This is your home—”
“Why would I stay?” Emptiness thinned the girl’s voice. “To be pointed at for life? To be the freak who was raped for a day and half, the dangerous, fucked-in-the-head little girl who killed two men and then four more?” She broke, and the sight dissolved every hard edge in Adrian’s soul. “I want to stay with you. You’re my friend. You understand.”
“What about your parents?”
“I’m eighteen. I’m not a child.”
Adrian saw Liz accept it, the way she leaned in and placed her forehead against the girl’s. “How do we handle it?” he asked.
Liz told them what she wanted to do. When it was agreed and understood, she stood one last time above her father’s body. Adrian had no idea what she was thinking, but she didn’t linger or touch her father or say a single word. Instead, she called 911 and said the words that would make everything happen: “Officer down,” she said, then knelt by Beckett and touched his forehead. “I don’t understand, and I’m not sure I ever will. But I hope you’re alive when they get here, and that one day you can explain.”
Maybe Beckett heard her, and maybe he didn’t. His eyes were closed, his breathing shallow.
“Liz.”
“I know,” she said. “Clock’s ticking.”
But Gideon was harder. He wanted to go, too. He begged. “Please, Liz. Please don’t leave me.”
“You need a doctor.”
“But I want to go with you! Please don’t leave me! Please!”
“Just tell the truth about what happened. You’ve done nothing wrong.” She kissed his face, and kissed it hard. “I’ll come back for you. I promise.”
They left him calling her name; and Adrian realized then that he might never have a hard edge again.
So much love.
Such heartbreak.
Outside, in the dusk, the sirens were drawing near. “They’ll be okay,” Liz said, but nobody answered. She was talking to herself.
“We need to move.”
She nodded to tell Adrian he was right and she knew it. “Will you drive?”
“Of course.”
She put Channing in the back and took the front seat for herself. “We’ll be okay,” she said, and no one responded to that, either. Adrian kept the lights off as he felt his way down the drive. “Wait here,” Liz said; and they waited until lights crested a far hill, and they were certain. Ambulances. Cop cars. Gideon would be okay, and even Beckett might make it. “Okay,” she said. “We can go now.”
Adrian turned the car away from the sirens and the lights. When they were clear, he clicked on his headlights. “Where are we going?”
“West,” Elizabeth said. “Very west.”
Adrian nodded, and so did the girl.
“We have to make one stop,” he said; and when the first chance came, he turned the car east.
EPILOGUE
Seven Months Later
The view from the desert hilltop was extraordinary. Mountains rose all around, as brown and splintered as old bone. The house was the same color, ninety-year-old adobe that blended like a tortoise into the saguaro and eucalyptus and paloverde. The walls were two feet thick, the floors Spanish tile. In back was a walled courtyard with a swimming pool. The front was all about the covered porch and long views and morning coffee. Elizabeth was on her second cup when Adrian stepped through the door to join her. He wore no shoes, and jeans that were faded nearly white. The scars were white against the tan, but so were his teeth. “Where’s Channing?”
He took the second rocking chair as Elizabeth pointed. Channing was a smudge on the valley floor, the horse beneath her dapple gray. They were picking their way along the arroyo that flooded when rains fell in the mountains to the north. Liz couldn’t see her face, but guessed she was smiling. That was the thing about the gray.
“How’s she doing?” Adrian asked.
“She’s strong.”
“That’s not really an answer.”