Narrow Escape Page 14

  “So what would be so important now but not important enough to miss three years ago?”

  Nathan shook his head. “Money they would miss right away. Same thing with drugs.”

  “All he gave them was information. What did he have that they need so badly now?”

  The two of them were silent until Charity dropped the ring on the floor and it clinked with a delicate tinkle. Arissa picked it up and returned it to the jeweler’s box, then set it in the safe deposit box. “This is just a dead end.”

  “Mark might have another bank account somewhere.”

  “How likely is that?” Arissa closed the lid on the safe deposit box, feeling as empty as the clang of the metal on metal. “I’m guessing whatever the gang is so desperate to get was in Mark’s apartment. And it’s long gone by now, tossed out by some unsuspecting landlord.”

  “No, because the gang needs...her...for some reason—” Nathan glanced at Charity but she didn’t seem to be listening “—and they don’t need her if they think the information is in a nonsecure location like an apartment.”

  “But where? And what?”

  “That’s the million-dollar question.”

  They called the teller, who locked the safe deposit box back in the vault and escorted them out to the main area of the bank.

  They drove back to Liam’s in silence, although Arissa felt as if she were filled with ice water, making her shiver. What could they do next? What was left but to run away—and keep running?

  Nathan turned into the driveway that would lead to the duplexes but then jerked the car to a halt. The seat belt sliced across her chest. She coughed. “What’s wrong?”

  Nathan pointed ahead of them. Parked in the middle of the driveway, farther down, was a familiar black BMW SUV.

  “They’re...” She gulped. “They’re parked in front of Liam’s duplex.”

  “Hang on. I don’t think they’ve seen us.” Nathan twisted around and backed out of the driveway, getting onto the main road and retracing the way they’d come.

  “Where are you going? We can’t leave Liam there.”

  “We’re not.”

  He only drove a few hundred yards before pulling to the side of the road in front of a closed gate into a vineyard, used for farm vehicles. Nathan parked so that he didn’t block the gate, then got out. “Stay here.”

  She wasn’t entirely comfortable with that. Nathan was the only one carrying a weapon—if the gang members spotted his car and recognized it, she and Charity would be sitting ducks. But she also wasn’t stupid enough to want to walk into a duplex where gang members might be waiting for them. “Leave me the car keys.”

  He paused, then nodded. “You’re right, you might need them.” He tossed them to her, then took off limping down the road toward Liam’s house.

  Charity had started whimpering at Nathan’s abrupt driving, but now she began crying in earnest so Arissa got out and opened the back door. “It’s all right, nene.”

  She soothed her niece and even managed to distract her with some hand games.

  And then she saw the extended-cab pickup truck, and the familiar driver as it passed her on the road, heading toward Liam’s house.

  Shaun.

  Oh, no. She grabbed at her cell phone, then realized she didn’t know Shaun’s cell number. She cried out in frustration as she realized she didn’t have Nathan’s number either since she hadn’t had a reason to call him.

  Should she go after them? No, that would be completely foolish. But could she sit here and do nothing, knowing Nathan and Liam and the people in his house didn’t know Shaun was about to burst in on them?

  Had Nathan called the police? There, something she could do. She dialed 9–1–1 and asked the dispatcher to put her through to Detective Carter, that it was an emergency involving Nathan Fischer and Shaun O’Neill. The female dispatcher was prompt and put her through without questioning her. If the woman was from Sonoma, she probably knew the Fischers and O’Neills.

  “Yes?” Detective Carter’s gravelly voice was urgent.

  “It’s Arissa Tiong. Nathan and I have been staying with Liam O’Neill and we discovered the gang member’s SUV outside his house. Nathan parked down the road and ran to help Liam, but I just saw Shaun O’Neill driving toward Liam’s house. He doesn’t know the gang members are there.” Her voice was rising with her panic, and she struggled to keep control of herself.

  “Are you in a safe place?” Detective Carter asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Where’s Liam’s house?”

  She gave him the address and also told him where Nathan’s car was located.

  Detective Carter said something to someone else, then told her, “Nathan already called it in so officers will be there soon. Don’t move. I’ll send a car to your location, too.”

  Arissa left Charity fussing in the car and walked a little ways down the road, staring at the line of duplexes. She couldn’t see much through the rows of grapevines. Was Nathan all right? Was Liam at home? How long before the police officers got there?

  Then suddenly the crack! of a gunshot split the air.

  TEN

  Nathan snuck up on Liam’s duplex by hiding behind the hedge, his gun at the ready. He peered through a triangular gap in the branches, but didn’t see anything.

  However, he heard plenty. The sound of crashing and smashing came from Liam’s side of the duplex. The gang members were searching the place, or perhaps just destroying everything to make a point, to instill fear.

  Liam wasn’t easily scared, and neither was Nathan.

  Was Liam inside? He shifted position to see around the BMW SUV, but Liam’s carport was empty. He exhaled a shaky breath.

  He’d called the police already and they should be here soon. Maybe he could find out how many gang members there were inside the house—more than one, it sounded like, but just two? Or three?

  Nathan slipped through the triangular break in the hedge and ran, keeping low to the ground, around Mr. Brummel’s side of the duplex and toward the rear. His leg protested. He ignored it. Liam’s back door had a screen door, but it sagged open on broken hinges. The door itself had a doggie door covered by a rubber flap near the bottom. Nathan kept close to the walls as he crept nearer. He got on his stomach and slowly, quietly lifted the rubber doggie door flap to look inside.

  Because Liam’s kitchen was open to the living room, Nathan had a clear view of the man looking at Liam’s laptop—the same man from the rest stop, the same man they’d seen in the parking lot outside the hardware store. They hadn’t left Sonoma.

  It sounded like someone else was trashing the one bedroom. The first man said something in Filipino to the person in the bedroom, and the second man exited the room as he responded. There didn’t seem to be anyone else in the house.

  Then Nathan heard the deep growl of a car engine coming up the driveway. No, not a car—a truck or an SUV.

  His first thought was that it was Liam returning, and his pulse beat hard against his throat. But no, Liam’s truck was old and the engine coughed and sputtered. This engine purred and growled. In fact, it sounded like Shaun’s truck...

  Oh, no.

  Nathan got to his feet, although his leg ached from the running and his shoulder burned. He crept back along the side of the house to peek around the corner toward the front.

  Shaun had just exited his truck and was approaching Liam’s house.

  Nathan waved his arm to get his attention, mouthing for him to get back, making his movements frantic and urgent.

  Shaun saw, tensed, then bolted back to the truck.

  At that moment, one of the gang members burst out of the front door and fired at Shaun.

  Nathan fired back but missed. The recoil slammed through his injured shoulder, and he inhaled sharply.


  He looked up and saw Shaun on the ground. Not moving.

  The gang member had ducked back inside the house, but now a hand holding a gun snaked out the door. Since Nathan was around the corner, he had a perfect shot and aimed for the man’s knuckles.

  The man yelled and dropped his gun, disappearing again in the house. There was a space of two heartbeats and then both men ran out of the house, the uninjured one firing in Nathan’s direction. Nathan hung behind the corner, but none of the bullets came even close.

  The BMW’s engine came to life. Nathan looked out to see the two men had jumped into the SUV. It backed down the driveway in a cloud of dirt and gravel, barely missing Shaun’s form on the ground before it shifted out onto the street and drove away.

  Nathan ran to Shaun, heedless of the pain stabbing his thigh with each step. “Shaun!” There was blood blossoming along the side of his torso. Had the bullet gone clean through his abdomen? Had it hit a vital organ? Nathan yanked off his shirt and pressed it to the wound.

  Please, not Shaun. Not the man who’d become such a good friend since he’d moved back to Sonoma. Not the one person who kept him sane when his injury made him want to hermit himself away. Nathan pulled out his cell phone and told the dispatcher to send an ambulance.

  Shaun groaned as Nathan continued to apply pressure. “Did you get them?” he asked in a thready voice.

  Nathan had to ungrit his teeth before answering. “No.”

  “Same guys?”

  “Yeah.”

  Shaun passed out just as Nathan heard sirens in the distance.

  * * *

  It was all his fault.

  No. It was all God’s fault.

  He only had to look at Shaun, lying in the hospital bed. What kind of God allowed something like this to happen?

  Nathan had only ever tried to do the right thing, and all that had led to was more suffering, more violence. It would have been easier for him to take if it had only been suffering and violence to himself, but it had affected the people he cared about. His closest friend in Sonoma had been shot. What would happen next?

  Monica sat beside Shaun, her face white but her voice determinedly cheerful. “It’s great news, you dork.”

  “How is a hole in my side great news?” Shaun’s voice was weak, but his smile at Monica was calm and quirky.

  “It’s not really a hole. It didn’t perforate your abdominal cavity.”

  “It took a chunk out of my amazing stomach muscles. I was going for a six-pack. Now I guess I’ll have to settle for a five-pack.”

  Monica rolled her eyes.

  Shaun’s father, Patrick O’Neill, stood at the foot of the bed and only gave a tight smile. The twinkle usually in his eye was missing as he gazed at his injured son.

  Nathan turned away and walked out of the hospital room. However, at the door he met two uniformed officers, Charlie Granger and Joseph Fong, who had been among the other officers responding to his 9–1–1 call.

  “Hi, Nathan,” Charlie said. “Sorry I can’t chat. I’m here to talk to Shaun, now that he’s all patched up.”

  “And Detective Carter sent me to ask Liam to come see him,” Joseph said.

  “Liam’s not here yet,” Nathan told him.

  Strangely, Joseph didn’t react to that. “Oh. I guess I can stay here to guard Shaun, wait for Liam. Keep an eye on Arissa and Charity, too.”

  Charlie nudged him with an elbow. “No, you slacker, get back to work.”

  Joseph grinned at him.

  “Oh, and don’t worry about someone watching your parents’ house,” Charlie said. “Detective Carter put another team on it. Good thing, too, or we’d have missed out on responding to your call today.”

  The two men nodded to Nathan, and Charlie entered the hospital room while Joseph disappeared down the hallway.

  Nathan walked out also, but didn’t see Arissa or Charity waiting in the nearby chairs. He asked the nurse at the adjacent desk if she’d seen them, and she pointed around a corner.

  Arissa sat with Charity in two padded chairs next to a worn box of toys. She looked up as he approached, her eyes darker than normal.

  “Shaun’s going to be fine,” he said.

  “I know. I’m worried about you.”

  Why was she concerned for him when she should be concerned about Shaun? About her parents, about Tito, about her missing friend Malaya? He was tired of being the object of people’s pity. He scowled at her.

  She blinked, but didn’t look away. She patted the empty seat next to her. “Sit down, Nathan.”

  He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to admit to himself that his leg ached and he ought to take the weight off of it. He knew his injury wasn’t the reason Shaun was hurt, but he wanted to blame someone. Something. Anything.

  He sat next to Arissa but only because he knew it wouldn’t do him any favors to aggravate his leg when he didn’t need to. Then he saw the book in her lap.

  A Gideon Bible. She’d probably snagged it from Shaun’s bedside table. She had it open although he didn’t look closely enough to find out which book she read. The sight of it renewed his anger and he clenched his jaw and turned away.

  She misinterpreted his actions. “It’s not your fault, Nathan.”

  But it was his fault. He should never have involved the O’Neills in this. He should have kept them out of it because he knew the situation was dangerous. “Whose fault is it, then?” he said sharply.

  “The shooter’s?”

  “You know that’s not what I’m talking about.”

  “Why does it have to be someone’s fault?”

  “How can it not be someone’s fault? Someone has to take responsibility. There’s already too many people not facing the consequences of their actions.” Like himself. That should be him in that hospital bed, not Shaun.

  “This isn’t the same thing.” She kept her voice low so as not to alarm Charity, who was talking to a doll with only one arm, but he couldn’t miss the urgency in her tone.

  “How do you know it’s not?”

  Her mouth opened but she couldn’t answer him.

  “You can’t know, can you? I used to think that what goes around comes around, that if I did my best to do the right thing, then my life would be better for it. But no matter how hard I try, I keep making the wrong decisions and people get hurt.”

  “How is it your fault that strangers hurt the people you care about? You didn’t fire at Shaun.”

  “Those men wouldn’t have been at Liam’s house if not for me.”

  “For us. So it’s my fault, too?” Her eyes glittered with anger and tears.

  “Yes!” he burst out. He shot to his feet and turned away from her.

  “Don’t turn your back on me.” Her voice trembled, low and growling. “You did that three years ago. You’re not going to do that again.”

  “Are we going to rehash that now?”

  “We never resolved anything in the first place.” The Bible thudded to the floor as she also rose to her feet, as if she didn’t want to be at a disadvantage. Or maybe she wanted to distance her anger from Charity, who now cast them fearful glances.

  He made an effort to lower his voice and calm the tension in the air between them. “I was hurt at the time.”

  “I know that. I was hurt, too, and I didn’t respond the way I should have.”

  The two of them stepped out of the way of a passing nurse.

  “Nathan, all the bad things that happen to you don’t mean you’ve made bad decisions. Was I wrong in taking in Charity? If I hadn’t, we wouldn’t be in danger. Yet you can’t say that it was wrong for me to care about her.”

  Maybe it had been wrong for her to care about Charity. Maybe it was wrong for him to care about people, because they seemed to be pu
t in harm’s way because of his decisions.

  “I think...” She hesitated. “I think God has a purpose for everything that happens—”

  “Don’t talk to me about God,” he snapped.

  “Are you blaming God for all this?”

  “Would you really be surprised if I did?”

  She looked like she wanted to say something, but stopped herself.

  “Say it,” he said.

  “No, it’s nothing.”

  “Just say it.”

  Her lips pressed together as she studied him. Finally she said, “Why are you blaming God for what other people do?”

  She’d said something similar earlier, but somehow pulling God into it now made a hot flash of fire burn in his gut. “How can you look at Shaun and still insist God only wants our good? He’s God. He could have shifted that bullet an inch or two so it wouldn’t hit him.”

  “How do you know He didn’t shift that bullet already?”

  “Why not go all the way? Shaun will be out of commission for weeks. Explain to me why God would want Shaun injured this way when He could have prevented it entirely.”

  “I don’t know. I can’t explain it because I’m not God.”

  She shook her head. Something about her face unnerved him. She was uncowed by his anger, and yet instead of getting mad back at him, she looked at him with...

  Pity.

  He stormed away from her. Her faith upset him. Angered him. Rebuked him. He didn’t need that. He was almost through the doors of the hospital before he realized where he was. Then a voice snapped him out of his black reverie.

  “Nathan.” Liam strode toward him.

  “Shaun will be fine. It’s a flesh wound in his lower abdominal.”

  “Yeah, Dad just called to let me know. How’s your arm?”

  He needed this, this terse conversation about injuries and not feelings. “Monica looked at it a few minutes ago for me. It looks better already.”

  “Lucky it wasn’t more than a graze.”

  “Yeah.” Enough about him. “Did you go back to your house?”

  Liam glanced around at the nurses and patients milling around the waiting room, and motioned subtly with his head for them to walk out of the hospital. They maneuvered deeper into the parking lot to a far corner that had a minuscule grassy triangle bordered by flowers, with a bench in the middle. They sat.