"You're lying."
"No, I'm not. My father molested my sister and she didn't fight back so that I could have a normal life. I live daily with the guilt that I didn't protect her. So I understand more than you think, Andrew. You don't want to hurt this child. Your beef is with me. All along you've punished the people who've hurt you." Except for his mistakes, but she'd keep him focused. "You've never hurt a child before. Don't start now."
He stood, uncertain. Sensing victory, she pressed.
"Your beef is with me, Andrew," she repeated. "I'm the one who found your real name, found you. I'm the one who took your stuff. I'm the one who's trying to stop you. Not the boy. Let him go. Take me instead."
At the top of the basement stairs, on the other side of the door, Reed listened. His heart sank, even though it was what he'd expected her to do from the moment he'd heard the words "Put down the knife, Detective." He'd had his hand on the doorknob, ready to run to her aid when he heard Kates threaten the boy with his knife. Reed had stood, his own weapon in his hand, waiting for the right moment. She'd get him to release the child, of that Reed had no doubt. At what cost to herself, he didn't want to consider. Kates had been silent a long time, then he spoke. "I could kill you both."
Mia considered Andrew Kates carefully, made herself logically process all that she'd learned over the last week. "You could. But I don't think you will." He was a man who for ten years buried the fact that he'd killed his own brother. He would readily accept what he found more palatable than the truth. "You spared Joe Dougherty a painful death. You spared the animals. You've punished those who deserved your anger. Penny Hill and Tyler Young deserved your anger, Andrew, but Jeremy does not."
She took another tack. "If you kill this child, I'll fight and kill you myself. None of the women you killed this week are trained like I am. You read the article in the paper. I took down a man twice your size all by myself a week ago today. You may kill me, but you won't walk away, either. I promise you that. Let him go and I won't fight you."
"I don't believe you. It's a trick."
"It's not a trick. It's a promise." She lifted a brow. "Call it paying my debt to my sister. Surely you can understand that."
For what seemed like an eternity he stood thinking. "You take off the vest all the way and I'll let the kid go."
Mia peeled the vest from her body, down her arms. She shivered, only a thin T-shirt covering her upper half. "I kept my end. It's your turn."
In one motion he withdrew the knife from Jeremy's neck and pulled a.38 revolver from his back waistband. Mia jerked her eyes from his new weapon to Jeremy who stood shaking. "Go, Jeremy," she said urgently. "Now." Jeremy looked at her, his eyes miserable and her heart cracked in two. "Go, honey. It'll be all right. I promise."
Kates gave the boy a hard shove. "She said go." Jeremy ran.
The front door opened, then slammed.
"We've got the boy, Mia," Spinnelli said in her ear. "Get him to the window."
Mia glanced at her mother, still tied to the chair by the stove. "Let her go, too."
Kates smiled. "She wasn't part of the deal. Besides, she's rude."
"You can't kill a woman because she's rude," Mia snapped. "For God's sake."
"You obviously haven't found Tania Sladerman from the hotel yet. Your mother stays. If you welsh, she's dead. If anything goes wrong, she's my ticket out of here."
"Living room, Mia," Spinnelli hissed. "Now."
Mia started toward Kates, trying to lead him to the window. "So let's get started."
Kates waved his gun. "Sit down. We'll do this my way. Cuff yourself. Both wrists."
She can't do that, Reed thought. She won't. The boy was safe. Now she'd make her move. He cracked open the door. It opened into a walk-in pantry. An open door led to the kitchen. He crept to the door and peered around. Annabelle Mitchell sat with her back to the stove, tied and gagged. Kates stood between the chair and the stove, a pipe wrench in his right hand, a knife in his left, the blade pressed against Annabelle's throat. Her eyes widened when she saw him and he shook his head.
His own eyes widened when he saw the.38 on the stove top. Somewhere along the way Kates had upgraded from the.22 he'd taken from Donna Dougherty's nightstand.
Reed shifted, bringing Mia into view. She sat in a chair, wide-kneed, leaning forward. "I'm wondering just one thing, Kates." Her hands were between her knees, fumbling with her cuffs. Stalling. Good girl. Her backup piece was inside her boot. He should know. He'd taken it off her several times now. She was waiting for the opportunity to get to it.
"Just one?" Kates asked sarcastically. "Hurry up with the cuffs," he added impatiently. "Or the old lady goes."
"I'm trying," Mia snapped back. "My hands are shaking, okay?" She drew a breath. "Yeah," she answered him. "Just one question. The fuses. Why were they so short? I have two theories." She looked up, grimly mocking. "My police shrink says your knife is an extension of your dick. I'm wondering if the short fuses were as well."
Mia was baiting him. Trying to draw him into using the knife on her instead. And even as Reed saw the logic in her strategy, his heart clenched in fear. He set his aim at Kates's chest. The moment he took the knife from Annabelle"s throat, he'd be dead.
Kates's face turned a florid red. "You bitch. I knew you'd lie. Damn you."
"Or," she continued calmly, "my second theory is that the short fuses are really your way of dealing with the person who really killed your brother. You."
"Shut up," Kates hissed. But his eyes flickered wildly. She was close, Reed knew.
"You killed your brother, Andrew," she said. "Every time you set a fire, a little part of you hoped it would take you out, too. Because you're the guilty one. You killed Shane."
"You don't know shit and you're going to die." Without taking his eyes from her, Kates knocked the gas valve right off the pipe. But instead of a steady hiss, there was only a gurgle followed by silence. Count that, asshole, Reed thought with satisfaction.
Stunned, Kates's eyes flicked to the pipe and Mia came to her feet, her backup piece in her hand. And before Reed could open his mouth to warn her, Kates hurled the wrench at Mia's head. She ducked and Kates grabbed the revolver.
Reed fired, the shot thunderous in the silence. Kates's knife clattered to the floor and a millisecond later, so did Kates. Reed rushed forward, his radio in his shaking hand, his fingers fumbling over the controls. He kicked Kates's gun from his hand. "Kates is down. Mitchell's mother is hurt."
Blood flowed from the wound at Annabelle's throat, but it didn't gush. It could be worse. He grabbed a terry towel from the counter and pressed it to Annabelle's throat. "Mia." He twisted to see her and… his hands froze.
"Goddammit, Reed, what the hell are you doing in there?" Spinnelli's furious voice crackled from the radio.
But Reed didn't answer. Couldn't answer. Mia lay on the floor in a heap, her white T-shirt already soaked with blood. Reed somehow made it to her side on his knees, his hands shaking. "Mia. Mia." He lifted her shirt and his pounding heart stopped. "Oh God." There was a huge hole in her side and blood gushed.
Her eyes struggled open, dazed with pain. "Reed. Did you get him?"
He shrugged out of his coat and ripped at his shirt. He had to stop the blood. She'd bleed to death before they got her to the ER.
"I got him, honey. Stay still. Help's on the way."
"Good," she answered. A groan rattled her chest. "It hurts."
Hands shaking, he pressed his shirt to the gaping wound. "I know it does, baby."