Presumption of Guilt

  He lowered the gun slightly . . .

  Bill lunged for him and wrestled the gun from his hand as Lisa screamed. He flung Jimmy to the floor, then turned the gun on them and laughed. Jimmy, Lisa, and Brad shrank back.

  “I’m going to call a news conference tomorrow,” he said, “and I’m going to tell the world that you three were responsible for the murder of my sister, the arson at the paper, and a hundred other crimes that haven’t been solved. I’m going to tell them that you had a twenty-one-year-old cohort named Beth Wright who drove you, and every night you sneaked out to wreak havoc on the town. They’ll have you locked in a cage in no time.” He laughed cruelly, then regarded them tauntingly for a moment. “Or maybe I’ll just decide to kill you first and dump your remains off a bridge somewhere. They’d never find you, not until the sharks had gotten their fill.”

  Lisa pressed herself into the corner of her room, trying to get smaller and farther away from the man who looked so natural with a gun. Brad stood next to her, a defeated, desperate look on his bruised face. Jimmy got up and stood in front of them both. “You’ll have to kill me to get to them.”

  “I can do that.” Bill backed to the doorway of the room and called out to Stella. She waddled into view, looking a little frightened herself.

  “Go to the shed and get my Buick out,” he said. “I’m gonna take these kids for a ride. After I get the stuff in the warehouse shipped and collect what’s due me, then I’m going on a long vacation.”

  Stella dashed out, and they heard the door close behind her.

  No one spoke until the car pulled up to the front door of the house and Stella came back in. “It’s there, Bill. Just one thing before you go. What about us?”

  “What about you? You’re on your own. I’m getting out of here.”

  CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

  I’m exhausted,” Beth said, getting slowly to her feet. She looked around Lynda’s living room at Lynda, Jake, and Nick, who looked back at her with sympathy and understanding. “I need to lie down for a while.”

  “We’ll wake you up the minute we get any word I from Tony,” Lynda said, with a weary smile.

  Beth nodded and plodded down the hallway, apparently barely able to put one foot in front of the other. But as soon as she got into the guest room, her eyes brightened and her movements became quick and sure. She slipped out the back door of the guest room onto the patio and stole around the house to her car.

  She prayed, as she started the car and pulled out of the driveway, that the others wouldn’t hear her; she breathed a sigh of relief as no one followed. Then she headed for the children’s home, determined to do something to keep Jimmy from getting killed. Even with a gun, she knew the boy was no match for Bill Brandon. Neither was she. But she might at least be able to distract Bill long enough for Jimmy and his sister to escape.

  Her bandaged chest hurt as she drove to the home as fast as she could, knowing that Nick or Lynda or Jake might discover at any time that she was gone and come after her. She took every shortcut she knew to cover the short distance to the compound where she had grown up. After she pulled up to the front of the compound, she sat for a moment, letting the car idle with the headlights off as she stared up into the buildings where all those children slept at night, trying to forget the heartache and terror of their pasts—even though the present might be worse. Tears came to her eyes, and she covered her face with her hands. She hadn’t seen Bill face-to-face since she’d walked out of the home on her eighteenth birthday. Just seeing him now would bring back a flood of despair and resentment and hatred. In truth, she might not come out of this alive. Bill wanted her dead, and wouldn’t be likely to just sit back and watch her walk out.

  She wished she had her gun. She couldn’t go in there to face her enemy unarmed, not if she expected to help Jimmy.

  She scanned the cottages. She wasn’t even sure which one to try. And what would she do? Break in? Knock? What would she say when she came face-to-face with Bill? Was she really as tough as she thought, or would she melt in fear, as she had done as a child, the moment Bill’s angry eyes had turned on her?

  Hatred so real and vibrant that it seemed to have a life of its own welled inside her, and she suddenly realized that she didn’t need a weapon. Her hatred of Bill Brandon was enough. It would propel her, drive her, protect her . . .

  She wilted. That was a lie. Hatred wasn’t going to get her anything. There had to be another way.

  The words of an old favorite passage of Scripture came back to her, and she chanted them in a whisper. The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not be in want. He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, he restores my soul.

  Her soul didn’t feel restored yet, but that was her fault. There was a price that had to be paid, a sacrifice that must be offered . . .

  He guides me in paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.

  She didn’t feel righteous, either, but she wasn’t finished trying.

  Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.

  This was the valley of the shadow of death—it always had been for her. Now she tried to imagine walking into this valley with that rod and staff as her only weapons—and found confidence that they would be enough.

  Armed with new courage, she got out of the car and slammed the door, not even caring if Bill heard her. She wanted him to see her, wanted him to forget whatever he was doing and come out to confront her. That might give Jimmy a window of opportunity to escape with Lisa.

  As she entered the compound, she saw a cluster of crying children standing in front of one of the cottages, huddled together. The Buick that had tried to run her off the road days ago was parked in front of the door with the driver’s door open. Across the compound, she saw Stella hurrying into a shed. The big woman backed a van out of it, and sped through the yard and away.

  Beth approached the kids. “What’s going on?” she asked.

  “Bill’s gonna kill them!” one of the children cried. “We heard a gunshot, but Bill’s still in there yelling. He must have shot Jimmy or Lisa or Brad!”

  Beth thought she might faint, but she forced herself through it. “Are there any other adults on the campus?”

  “There were, but they all left!”

  “Go over to the rec room,” she ordered. “Get down on the floor and don’t come out until I tell you. Do you hear me?”

  She watched as they fled to the building across the campus.

  Taking a deep breath, she tested the knob, then opened it. “Your rod and your staff, they comfort me,” she muttered under her breath as she stepped inside.

  She heard voices in the back room. Taking a deep breath, she held it for a moment, marshaling her courage and steadiness of mind. This was it. Then she yelled: “Bill Brandon!”

  The voices stopped. “That’s right,” she called. “It’s me. Beth Sullivan. You wanted me dead. Well, now’s your chance.”

  CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

  The moment he had heard the gunshot, Larry had called Tony, explaining even as he pounded down the stairs and out the door what he’d heard. As he rushed across the street and toward the home, he said, “What the—Tony, you’re not going to believe this.”

  “What!” Tony prompted.

  “Beth. She’s heading onto the compound—too far away for me to stop. Her car’s out front here. Looks like she’s heading for a group of children.”

  “What’s she thinking of? If Brandon finds her, he’ll kill her—he’s already tried it twice.”

  “I’m right behind her,” Larry said into the cell phone. “Send me some backups.”

  He tucked the phone into his belt pouch as the children fled to the rec room. As he rounded the corner, he could see Beth heading into the cottage where a Buick was parked out front. He pulled his gun out of his shoulder holster. Praying under his breath, he ran in a crouch the remaining distance to the cottage, we
nt to the window, and looked through. Bill stood with a pistol pointed at three children—Jimmy and two others. The little girl had to be Lisa. The gunshot he’d heard hadn’t wounded any of these people, apparently.

  He heard Beth call out. Bill swung around . . .

  CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

  Bill stepped slowly into the hallway, grinning at Beth. Then he motioned with the gun in his hand—her own gun, Beth realized—and Jimmy and two other children stepped out into the hallway with him, huddled together. Beth choked back her fear. “Let them go, Bill,” she said. “Let it be just you and me, face-to-face.”

  He chuckled. “Well, well. Been a long time, darlin’. How are you?”

  “Better than you expected,” she said. “I’m just fine.”

  “Well, it was nice of you to drop in tonight. You missed the party, though. It was a good one. Made me some friends, I’ll wager. You can never have too many friends in the media.”

  “Let them go, Bill,” she said again. “You don’t need them.”

  “Oh, I need them, all right,” he said, slowly herding the children down the hallway toward her. “And as much as I’d like to finish the job I started a couple of days ago, I need you. I’m not stupid. I know the cops have been trying to get a warrant. I know that as soon as they do, they’ll be out here to arrest me. But I won’t be here. And neither will you. We’re gonna be taking a little trip. I’ll take all of you along for insurance.”

  “Just me,” she said. “Let them go and take me.”

  “Let them go?” He threw his head back and laughed. “Beth, Beth, you know better than that.” He was almost within arm’s reach now. Could she grab the gun? No, too dangerous. If it went off and hit one of the kids . . .

  “There are too many of us,” she said. “We’ll be too conspicuous. If it’s just me . . .”

  “Just you and me, Beth? Think about it. They’d shoot us as soon as look at us. You’re nothing but trash, and you don’t have family that’ll sue them later. They’d be safe taking risks with a hostage like you. But with these cute little kids, they wouldn’t dare take a chance, or they’d have the whole country coming down on them the minute they pulled the trigger. No, the kids are my ticket out of here.”

  “Where will you go?” she asked through her teeth. “Somewhere to ruin more lives? Are you going to keep killing everybody who gets in your way?”

  “I might,” he said with a grin. He grabbed her hair by the roots, and swung her back toward the door. “But right now, I need to keep you alive.” He scowled at the three children huddled together. “Come on, kids. Into the car. All of you.”

  Jimmy held his sister close to him; tears ran down both their cheeks. “Beth, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have taken your gun. Now he’s got it and—”

  “It’s okay, Jimmy,” she said, her face reddening with pain as he jerked her by her hair. “Just do what he says.”

  Bill kept the gun trained on them as the children climbed into the backseat of the car. He shoved Beth into the passenger seat and said, “Scoot over. You’ll do the driving.”

  He was just about to climb in after her when a voice cut through the night: “Freeze!”

  Bill froze, then slowly turned to see Larry with his gun trained on him.

  “Drop the gun and get down on the ground!”

  Bill leaned down slowly, the gun still in his hand. His arm swung out, apparently to toss the gun, but instead he raised the pistol and pulled the trigger.

  The children screamed as Larry dropped to the ground.

  Bill dove into the car. “Let’s go!” he told Beth. “Turn that key and get us out of here! Move!”

  “You killed him!” she cried as she cranked the car and pulled across the lawn. “You killed him!”

  “Yeah, and you’re next! Now shut up!”

  The children tried to muffle their sobs of horror as Beth tore down the dark street.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “We’re just gonna drive,” he said. “Until I get far enough away that I don’t need you anymore.”

  “And then what?”

  “Then I’ll find a bridge to throw you over. Every last one of you.”

  CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR

  Tracy was nearly to the children’s home when she was overcome with dizziness. She pulled the car to the side of the road and tried to gather what little strength she had left. She was almost there. She had to make it.

  Just when her head seemed a little clearer, a T coughing fit hit her. It was getting harder to breathe. Her lungs felt heavy and full of fluid, as if they didn’t have room for anything as mundane as oxygen.

  She was still struggling to catch her breath when she saw a car race across the children’s home lawn and shoot the curb onto the street.

  The car sped toward her, and as it passed under a streetlight she saw Jimmy sitting in the backseat with a little girl next to him.

  A little girl! Was it Lisa? Tracy sucked a huge gulp of air, despite the pain. Her kids were in danger. She was their mother; it was her job to stop him. Ignoring her weakness, she shoved her car into a tight U-turn, tires squealing, and followed the other car until she’d caught up with it. Then, stepping on her accelerator, she pulled up beside them and tried to pass.

  The other car began to zigzag, to keep her from staying on the road next to it. But she wouldn’t give up. Tears streamed down her face as she urged the old rattletrap ahead and, finally, almost through sheer force of will, she inched ahead of them. This was it , she told herself. Her last chance to do something for her children. Something important. Something that mattered. It was her last chance to show her children she loved them.

  She cranked the wheel as hard as she could, throwing her car into a power turn, spinning out of control just a few feet in front of the other car.

  Tracy felt the impact of the collision almost immediately, heard the crunching metal. She only hoped Jimmy and Lisa were wearing their seatbelts. Her car had none, nothing to hold her in, and the last thing she was aware of before she lost consciousness was the sensation of being thrown out of the car into the night air.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE

  There was a moment of shocked silence just after the two mangled cars ground to a halt. Then the inside of the Buick erupted in frightened screams. But the loudest was Jimmy’s—because he had seen, behind the wheel of the rusty old car that had passed them and then pulled spinning in front of them, the face of his mother.

  With no regard for Bill or any further danger, Jimmy bolted from the Buick and ran to the other car, which now lay on its side. But there was no one in that car. He looked up then, frantic—and saw his mother, several yards ahead, lying motionless on the concrete like a discarded rag doll. “Mom!” he yelled through his tears. “Mom!” He fell down beside her, wailing at the sight of the blood oozing from her nose and mouth.

  But she opened her eyes slowly and looked up at him. “Run!”she whispered. “Take your sister and run!”

  Jimmy was crying so hard he could barely speak. “Why did you do it?” he asked. “Why?”

  “Because I . . . love you,” she whispered. “Run, Jimmy! Please run . . .” Her voice trailed off, and Jimmy watched her eyes go dead and empty.

  He wanted to stay with her, but her words echoed in his mind: Take your sister and run. He looked back toward the car. Lisa and Brad had gotten out, too. Bill had hit his head, and was holding it with one hand as he tried to crank the car with the other. Jimmy couldn’t see Beth.

  Jimmy ran to his sister and took her hand. “Come on, Brad,”he whispered. “Let’s hide in the woods.”

  He pulled Lisa after him, and Brad followed in a painful, stumbling run. Then he heard a yell. Looking back over his shoulder, Jimmy felt a surge of panic as he saw Bill throw open the car door and leap out. But with Bill’s first step toward them, Beth dove from the car, landing on Bill’s back, and wrestled him to the ground.

  “Come on!” Jimmy urged, and pulled Lisa toward the safety of the tr
ees.

  It only took Bill a moment to regain his equilibrium, throw Beth off of him, and get the upper hand, but by then, the children were gone.

  He grabbed her by the throat and lifted her to her feet. “Back in the car,” he said through gritted teeth.

  He threw her in on the driver’s side, then pushed her across to the passenger seat. She gasped in pain as she moved, and he saw blood seeping onto her blouse from some wound he couldn’t see on her chest. He jumped in beside her, cranked the car, and it started. He’d noticed some significant damage to the front of the car, but it looked driveable.

  “Are you just going to leave her on the road?” Beth screamed.

  “Shut up!” he shouted, bringing his fist hard across her jaw. “Don’t say another word or it’ll be the last thing you’ll say!”

  Furious, he drove around the wrecked car and the body lying in the street, and flew as fast as he could out of the area.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX

  Jimmy urged Lisa and Brad through the woods at a run, trying to make it to the road on the other side where they might find help. Maybe a police car would come by, and they could flag it down.

  Not long ago, Jimmy realized suddenly, a policeman J would have been the last person he would have turned to when he was in trouble. For that matter, he wouldn’t have trusted any other adults, either. But since then, he’d learned something: Adults weren’t all bad. Beth had come here tonight, despite her fears of Bill, for the sole purpose of rescuing the children. And then there was his mother. A lump rose in his throat again, and he swallowed it down.

  He still didn’t understand why she had done it. She had already proven she didn’t care about them. She had let the state take them and dump them somewhere. Why come back now, sick and weak, and risk her life to stop Bill from taking them away?

  It didn’t make sense. But it changed things, somehow.