Logan would show the burns from the ropes around his wrists, the spot on his head where the soldier had yanked out a clump of hair, and the bruise on his cheek where he’d been punched.
Laura remained quiet about the bullet-grazed shoulder and her various bangs and cuts. Dillon and Macie had emerged unscathed, though Macie always pointed to the scraped knee she’d suffered crawling under the car at the RapidPark lot.
Hutch eyed Laura now. She was smiling up at him. He said, “No regrets then?”
“About shooting him?” she said. “When I was sneaking up behind him, I thought about how we would all be dead if he’d had his way. I thought of poor Logan, kidnapped, terrified. I even thought of Dr. Nichols’s family, though I didn’t know them.”
Hutch said, “Never mind that he had me in his machine gun’s sights and was ready to pull the trigger.”
She waved her hand dismissively and tossed her head back. She said, “I know somewhere inside I should hurt for having taken a human life.” She shook her head. “But I don’t.” She pulled in a breath. Fog, like smoke, billowed out of her nose. “I do have nightmares, though.”
Hutch’s eyes widened. “About shooting him?”
“About not shooting him. I play the nice girl and say, ‘Put it down or I’ll shoot.’ He ends up killing both of us and turns the kids into perfect little killing machines.”
Hutch glanced over at the children. He said, “You think it’s that easy, turning good people bad?”
“I think that’s what he was doing,” she said. “We make choices, sure, but who can withstand the mind games Page was getting into?”
“Julian.” Hutch shook his head at the thought of the boy. “That kid wallowed in blackness, but he stayed pure. He did what was right. More than once.”
“Outis had just started on him,” Laura said.
“You’re a nihilist,” Hutch said.
“Me? No, I love life. That’s why I don’t mind defending it.” She looked over at the playground. “Especially when it’s theirs.”
Hutch was glad she included Macie and Logan in the Don’t-Mess-with-Mama-Bear deal. He’d felt protective of Dillon since he’d first met him, and it seemed only right that it had come full circle. He straightened and crossed his arms over his chest. He watched the kids play, especially the little brown-haired kid who’d just leaped ten feet to the ground.
“What about Dillon?” he said. “He shot that soldier.”
“He’s more together about it than I am,” Laura said. She squinted up at him. She blocked the sun with her hand. “Remember, he’d seen people like that murder his dad. He wasn’t about to let it happen to his mom. He’s a tough kid.”
She watched him watching them. She said, “What is it?”
He shook his head.
“No, what?” She put her hand on his knee.
“Maybe I’m a slow learner. . . .” He smiled and took her hand in his. “But I want to do it right this time. I want to be in their lives while they want me to be, you know?”
He saw that she was right with him. Slowly he said, “I feel that way about you and Dillon too. I can’t believe you’re going back, now that your depositions are finished.”
He felt his face flush under her gaze. He looked away.
“What are you saying, Hutch?”
He looked up at the sky, back to her. “Maybe you could . . . find a reason to stay?”
“Maybe I could.”
He smiled. “Hey,” he said, gesturing with his head.
An attendant had pushed a wheelchair through a back door and was rolling it toward the ambulance. A uniformed police officer and a man in a suit strolled alongside. Sitting in the chair, his leg in a cast straight in front of him, Michael spotted them. His hand rose a few inches off his lap. He gave a tentative wave.
“Come on,” Hutch said. As they walked, Laura clasped her hand around his.
The cop saw them coming and nodded. He’d been stationed outside Michael’s room most of the times they’d come to visit. He spoke to the other man, who nodded.
They reached Michael at the rear of the ambulance. The attendant opened the doors.
Hutch squeezed Michael’s shoulder. “How’s it feel, going home?”
Michael nodded. “They haven’t set a venue for the trials yet, so they figured I can be in a cage near my parents as well as here.” He hitched a thumb at the man in the suit. “I have my own U.S. marshal.”
The guy tilted his head. Sunglasses prevented Hutch from seeing his eyes.
Laura crouched beside the wheelchair. She touched Michael’s hair. “I hear your dad’s going to be okay.”
That brought a smile to Michael’s face. “Yeah, they finally got the slug out of his chest. This close to his heart.” He held up his thumb and forefinger, as though holding a pellet between them.
“He’s going to be proud of you,” Hutch said, “breaking away from Outis like you did. Turning state’s evidence.”
Michael rolled his eyes. “Lot of good it will do, a conglomerate that big.”
“They’ve already had all of their licenses and contracts frozen,” Hutch said. “And the investigation’s going to make it worse for them, not better.”
Michael lowered his head. “Too bad he’s dead. Page, I mean. I would have liked to strap a helmet on his head and show him a thing or two.”
Laura said, “I think what you have in mind is pretty close to what’s happening to him.”
“Let’s go,” the marshal said. He waved his hand at the attendant, who began folding parts of the wheelchair so Michael could stand.
“Michael,” Hutch said. “I won’t forget that you helped save Logan. I promised to help you any way I could, and I meant it. I’ll be in touch, okay?”
Michael wrinkled his nose. “I’m pretty messed up,” he said.
“Who isn’t?” Hutch said.
They watched him shift into the ambulance. The marshal joined him, and the vehicle pulled away. The cop strolled back toward the hospital.
Hutch and Laura returned to the park. The kids saw them and came running. The sun glinted off Logan’s braces—his grillz. It lifted Hutch’s heart to see the boy smiling.
They barreled into him, knocking him to the grass. All three of them began tickling him. His hands weren’t fast enough to stop them from pushing their little fingers into his sides, neck, underarms.
“Wait, wait, wait,” he said. “How about dinner and a movie?”
A chorus of whoops and cheers.
“First one to the car gets to pick the restaurant; second one, the movie. Go!”
Dillon and Macie scrambled to their feet. Laura laughed and followed.
Logan lay on Hutch’s chest, his arm propping up his head.
“You’re going to let them pick our food and entertainment?” Hutch said.
The boy nodded. “How long is this going to last?” he said.
“What?”
“You being cool. Spending time with us.”
“I hope a long, long time,” Hutch said. “I have to work, of course. But I’ll try to keep it pretty much nine-to-five, okay?”
“No obsessions?”
Hutch mussed his hair. “You’ve been talking to Laura.” He smiled.
“My only obsessions will be the people I love.”
“No one’s going to replace Brendan Page?”
Hutch turned to gaze at Logan from the corner of his eye. He squinted.
“Brendan who?”
Robert Liparulo, Deadlock
Thank you for reading books on BookFrom.Net Share this book with friends