Nelson raised the gun, his hand shaking, thumbed the safety off and cocked the trigger. He fired, the sound like a bomb in the small space, but he didn't hit Mike, because Casper stepped in front of him, and took the bullet in his shoulder.
Susan jerked away from the sound of the gun going off in her ear, started to fall, and Nelson grabbed her by the hair again, the gun swinging around. Peter froze, his throat closing. Nelson had the smoking pistol shoved up hard against Sebastian's heart.
Jesse had shrieked at the gunshot, then he and Phillip piled out of their chairs and rushed to Casper. Mike was already leaning over him, ignoring Mulligan's whispered instruction for everyone to stop moving, hold still. Casper was groaning, the blood rapidly soaking the front of his shirt.
«Dishtowels,» Phillip said. «Jesse, hold pressure on the wound! Don't worry, Casper, we know CPR!»
Nelson backed out the door, the gun leveled, dragging Susan with him. «Get back, fucker.» He was talking to Sebastian, who was still crouched, snarling, ready to spring.
Peter keyed the police radio. «Emergency Responders, Emergency Responders, gunshot victim at the Heartbreak. I need an ambulance. Hostage situation, perpetrator has a gun. Repeat, hostage situation.» His voice cracked. «He has taken a hostage. We have a gunshot
victim.» What else was he supposed to say? Peter couldn't remember. He couldn't remember the codes. Code twenty? Sixty? One of them was for an officer down. Who gives a fuck? «Just get over here! I need some help! He took Susan!»
Sebastian had scrambled out the door after Nelson. Peter tried to shove the emergency radio into Mulligan's hands. He was climbing up from his knees. «Just leave it! I've got my own radio!»
«Fine.» Peter turned and gave the radio to Phillip. It was already squawking with the tinny voices of people coming to help.
«Be careful, Peter.» Casper could hardly speak, grinding his teeth against the pain. Peter turned and ran.
Nelson was walking backward across the garden, but Susan was fighting him. Sebastian was a couple of feet behind them. Nelson was screaming, his head swiveling back and forth between Susan and Sebastian. He must have known by then that he wasn't going anywhere, not with both of them fighting him. He threw the scissors away, brought the gun around and pressed it against Susan's head. She dropped like a stone to the ground just as he fired. Sebastian leapt on him, strong hands finding his throat.
Sebastian had a knee pressed down hard in Nelson's chest. He'd fallen against one of the raised garden beds, and Sebastian lifted his head by the throat, shoved him back down with his neck against one of the railroad ties lining the beds, and Peter thought later that he could hear the sharp crack of the bones in Nelson's neck breaking.
The gun fell out of Nelson's hand and Peter kicked it away. Susan was face down on the ground, blood soaking her dark hair.
Peter raised his head and yelled. «Jesse! Phillip!» Jesse stuck his head out the door. «I need a dishtowel, hurry!»
He rolled Susan to her back. She was still breathing. The bullet had made a nasty gouge across the top of her skull, but Peter couldn't tell if it had gone into her brain. «She's still breathing.»
But Nelson wasn't. Sebastian's hard, strong hands were still around his throat, squeezing. Nelson's face had shaded dusky purple, tongue protruding from his mouth. Peter looked up at Sebastian. «I think that job's done,» he said. «Sebastian! Sebastian, it's done.»
Sebastian stared at him, sweat pouring down his face, his mouth twisted in a snarl. He looked down at Nelson, then he pushed the body away in revulsion, stood up, scrubbing the palms of his hands up and down his thighs.
«She's still breathing,» Peter said again, pressing the dishtowel against Susan's head. «I'm sure she's okay. She's gonna be fine. Everybody's gonna be fine.» Jesse knelt next to him, gulping and crying quietly, and Susan opened her eyes. Peter smiled down at her. «Hi, beautiful.»
Sebastian nodded. «She always had the hardest head, always.» Then he turned around and walked away into the woods.
Chapter Eight
Susan pushed open the kitchen door. «Peter?» «Come on in. I hope you're hungry, Susan. I've got lunch almost ready.»
«I don't want anything sweet, Peter. Those lovebirds at the reception desk are about all the sugar I can take.»
Peter laughed. The sudden, passionate love between Travis and the young, very pregnant Charlie had taken everyone by surprise. Peter hoped… Well, he just hoped. Travis had taken Nelson's place as maintenance foreman for the hotel, and Charlie had scrubbed down the tiny cottage that went with the job with bleach and hot water and lots of sunshine. The curtains she made for the kitchen window were decorated with bright, cheerful clusters of cherries, and she had carefully sewn the hems by hand. Peter had high hopes. «Where is he?»
«Out in the new studio.» Sebastian had been building his pottery studio with a view of Icy Straits. «Have you seen Jacob's pot?»
She shook her head, and Peter led her into the living room. The pot was on the mantle, a tall, elegant shape, almost like a Grecian urn, with a wide curve and a narrow neck, and a matte blue-green glaze the color of the Pacific Ocean. The color of Peter's eyes. Around the
neck of the pot Sebastian had tied some small, carved pieces of ivory, very old. Susan lifted the first one and looked at it. The carving showed a whale on a beach and a Native man standing over it, holding a spear. The next one showed some tiny carved seals, no bigger than grains of rice. «Wow, Peter. Where did he find these? And why did he put them on Jacob's pot?» «He's convinced Jacob had Athabascan blood, had come here to find his heritage.» Susan raised her eyebrows. «Really? I thought Jacob was Jewish.»
«You can't tell Sebastian anything!» Peter lifted his hands in a helpless gesture. «It makes him happy. He wants Jacob to be his little brother. I'm staying out of it. It's between the two of them.» Susan gave him a strange look. «Okay, I don't get it, but okay.»
They went back into the kitchen and Susan sat down at the kitchen table. Peter watched her carefully. The new, short haircut suited her face, but the trough where the bullet had plowed through the top of her skull two weeks before was still scabbed and healing. He thought she looked too pale, her face thin. «You have another headache? Have you been taking your medicine?»
She waved this away. «Don't fuss, Peter. But I'll take a cup of tea.» She was pulling a bottle of Excedrin out of her pocket. «I've got some news. Double news, really.» «How does jasmine sound? Or I have some Constant Comment.»
«Jasmine, thanks. I went into Juneau, to the hospital to see Casper, and Mike was still there! He was sitting next to Casper's bed, going through some papers, very lawyerly with his reading glasses and tie. They were listening to an audiobook, that new one from Charles Frazier. I don't know, Peter. It was nice, very cozy and comfortable. Like they were comfortable together. Casper said he was better, that if physical therapy approved, he might be getting out of the hospital soon. I got the feeling they were talking about going home together. And they're both coming for the potlatch. Jesse and Phillip, too, right?»
«They sure are, cameras at the ready. Those papers weren't subpoenas, were they? They didn't have my name on them?»
«I don't know why you don't like Mike. He reminds me of you a little bit, the way he talks. He's just shaky, Peter. His breakup, it must have been rough.» Peter goggled at her, prepared to explain exactly the many ways he and Mike were totally different, but she ignored him and popped a couple of Excedrin, washed them down with the tea. «So what else is exciting in the world of law enforcement?»