Point Last Seen: Blood Will Tell Part 20

DON'T BRING A KNIFE TO A GUNFIGHT.

When Ruby started running out of the store, Nick was right on her heels. Ignoring the stares of the shoppers, he concentrated on trying to hear the clues Alexis was giving.

"That Detective Meeker didn't believe me," Ruby said as they raced back to her car. "It's up to us to save Alexis."

Nick put his hand over the phone, just in case whoever was with Alexis could hear him. "Alexis just said something about him living across the street from where they found Lucy's body."

"That fits the profile," Ruby said between gasps, "of the unplanned killer! Acting in his own neighborhood."

As they threw themselves into her car, Nick reached into his pocket, feeling for the one thing that might make a difference. He just feared they were going to be too late.

Ruby started to say something more, but Nick held up his hand to tell her to be quiet. On the phone, he heard the man who had taken Alexis shouting. But he couldn't make out the words. And he couldn't hear Alexis at all anymore. For a minute, he was overwhelmed by thoughts of her: of her silver-blue eyes, of her kindness, of the easy way she moved. The world needed Alexis in it.

Ruby sped down Broadway, jumping from lane to lane whenever the one they were in slowed down. Within seconds, they were on the freeway.

In Nick's hand, Ruby's phone had gone silent. He held his breath, his finger in his other ear, and listened as hard as he could, ignoring the buzzing starting to come from his pocket.

Nothing.

Did that mean Alexis might already be dead?

"I can't hear anything anymore," he told Ruby. His bones felt like water. In answer, she pushed the accelerator down even farther.

It was only when they neared the vacant lot that she started driving slower. Which house could it be?

Then Nick spotted an old blue Chevy pickup with a silver grille. He remembered Kyle saying that a truck like that had pa.s.sed him that night as he walked home from the Last Exit.

"There!" he said, pointing. "I think that's it." He was out of the car before Ruby had even brought it to a complete stop and running across the lawn. Acting without thought. All he knew was that he had to save Alexis before it was too late. He rang the bell. Did he hear shouting inside? His heart was racing and his mouth was dry.

He pulled the Kershaw from his pocket and pressed the b.u.t.ton. In a split second the blade was out and gleaming. Folded, the knife was no longer than the palm of his hand. That was what Nick liked about it. But now he realized he was going to have to get really close to do any damage. Close enough that he himself could easily get hurt. With his free hand, he pounded on the door. "Alexis!" he shouted. "Are you in there?"

Ruby joined him on the front steps. When she saw the knife, she did a double take.

A man in his midthirties flung open the door. He wore an ill-fitting suit. Nick remembered him standing along the crime scene tape, near him and Kyle. But what really struck Nick was that even though he was inside, the man was wearing gloves. Or at least that he was wearing one on his left hand, the hand Nick could see.

"What do you want?" he snarled. He barely glanced at Nick's knife.

"We're here for our friend Alexis. And don't try to stop us!" Wishing that his voice was deeper, Nick brandished the knife. Wishing that he was bigger. This guy wasn't that much taller than him, but he looked strong, with a thick neck and shoulders. Nick could really use some backup right about now, but all he had was a girl who was even skinner and shorter than him.

"Alexis?" Ruby shouted. "Alexis, are you in there?"

No answer. Was she already dead, the way the man on the telephone had threatened? Nick uttered a silent prayer that was only a single word. Please, please, please, please.

"I don't know what your deal is or who you're talking about!" the man snarled. "All I know is you had better get off my porch now."

Somewhere in the recesses of the house, Nick heard a thump.

Ruby ducked under the man's arm and ran in.

"Alexis!" she shouted. "Alexis?"

The man ran after her, and Nick followed the man. He stared at his back, trying to think of the best place to stab him. It was all fine when it was a movie or a video game, but when you were looking at your four-inch blade and wondering just how far it would get inside someone and how gross it would be, it was something else.

Ruby pointed at the couch, her face triumphant. "What do you call that? That is Alexis's purse."

"And what do you call this?" Now Nick saw what was in the man's other hand. It was a gun. What was that saying? he thought. Don't bring a knife to a gunfight?

But what choice did he have? Nick raised his knife and prepared to charge.

The sound of the shot filled the room. Something slapped his hand away. Nick didn't have the knife anymore. And his hand was bleeding. A lot.

He had been shot.

He fell to his knees. The world spun as if he were on a Tilt-A-Whirl. The bitter taste of bile filled his mouth. He started to slump sideways. He couldn't stop staring at the raw meat that used to be the base of his thumb. It had been bad enough when it was Lucy's blood he had crawled through, Mariana's blood glowing in his headlamp. This-this was his own blood. His lifeblood.

No. He could not pa.s.s out. Remembering Ruby's advice, Nick forced every muscle to go rigid, ignoring the fact that it seemed to make the blood pulse from the wound even faster.

In the background, Ruby was screaming.

What was that glinting on the floor in front of him? The knife! Only a few feet away. He lunged for it.

The guy laughed and kicked it away. Nick landed on his hands. A scream was ripped from his mouth. The pain was like nothing he had ever experienced. It felt like he had just tried to pick up a snapped power line. Pulsing, burning agony raced from his bleeding hand up into his shoulder and then engulfed his entire body.

He slumped to the floor, closed his eyes, and let in the darkness.

"Nick?" Ruby said. "Nick?" She sounded frantic. "He's going to bleed to death."

"I'm sorry, but you're all going to die," the guy said as he stepped over Nick.

Nick lay curled in a fetal position. His bad hand was right next to one of his feet. Beside the shoe that had the razor blade tucked in the insole. What good would an inch-long blade do him? Better to lie here. Better to surrender to the peace.

But did he hear something in the distance? Was it a siren? In the car he had turned on his phone, hoping that Ruby was right. Hoping that the police were monitoring its location. Now they might be coming. Maybe. But even if they were, Nick was afraid it was too late. Too late for everyone.

In his mind's eye, he saw the faces of Alexis and Ruby. If he was going to die, it was better to die for something. And while it might be too late for Alexis, it wasn't for Ruby.

He just wished he had kissed Alexis. Even once.

Nick tensed every muscle. Pushed his teeth into his tongue. At the same time, he slid his index finger into his shoe, curling it under the insole. He knew he had found the razor blade when he felt it slice into his finger. Undeterred, he hooked it out.

He gripped the single-edged blade between his finger and thumb. He was so weak he wasn't even sure he had it the right way around. His fingers were slippery with blood.

The man was standing sideways to him. Nick pushed on the floor with his good hand and launched himself at him, slashing the razor blade at ankle level.

The blade caught and held. And then it felt like a guitar string snapping. The pressure was suddenly gone. Screaming, the guy pitched sideways.

But he was still holding the gun. He propped himself on one elbow and took aim. And now the gun's round, empty eye focused on Nick.

The second shot rang out just as the door went flying backward and Harriman barreled in.

And then the world went dark.

CHAPTER 50.

NICK.

TUESDAY.

I OWE YOU.

When Nick woke up, his thoughts felt fuzzy and slow. Above him was a white acoustical tile ceiling. And underneath him was what he thought was some kind of bed. In the background, a lot of beeping, overhead pages, and m.u.f.fled conversations.

Slowly, it came to him. He was in a hospital.

And he was there because he had been shot.

It took a great deal of effort to move his head, but he finally managed to look down at his hand. It was wrapped in thick white bandages. But at least he still had a hand. Panic jolted him a bit more awake. What if he didn't have all his fingers? He raised his hand toward his face-it seemed to weigh twenty pounds-and tried to count the pink tips protruding from the layers.

"So you're awake now?" It was Ruby's voice.

Five. At least, he thought there were five. Nick managed to turn his head.

Alexis and Ruby were sitting beside his bed. "My hand?" he asked.

"They said you were really lucky. The gunshot just grazed you. You had to have some st.i.tches on it and where you cut your fingers on that razor blade, but they said you'll be okay." Alexis's eyes sparkled with unshed tears. "Your mom and brother just went to eat in the cafeteria. We told them we'd give them a break."

Ruby got to her feet and pushed her chair back. "I'll go tell Harriman you're awake now. He wants to talk to you. They've been interviewing that guy. Kenny Moxley. They shot him before he could kill you. But don't worry, he's on another floor with a police guard."

After she left, Alexis leaned so close that Nick could smell her breath. It smelled like coffee and cinnamon.

It was the best thing Nick had ever smelled.

"I owe you," Alexis said in a low voice. "I thought I was dead for sure. He had tied me up and gagged me. Even though he kept saying he was sorry, he was planning on killing me as soon as it was dark. But you saved me."

"I didn't save you." His tongue was like a piece of leather in his mouth. "The police did."

"But you're the one who turned on your phone so they would track you down." Alexis sat on the side of the bed. It dipped slightly under her weight. "And you're the one who was willing to fight back with nothing more than a razor blade. If you hadn't done that..." Letting the words trail off, she leaned over and gave him a hug, tucking her head next to his.

Suddenly Nick felt completely awake. Alexis's ribs were pressing painfully on his injured hand, squishing it against his stomach, but he didn't complain. He didn't even try to pull it free.

When she started to straighten up, he put his good hand on the back of her neck and pulled her back down. For a second, her soft lips landed on his. Then she pulled her head back and stood up.

"What was that?"

"I'm sorry," Nick said. But he wasn't.

Alexis closed her eyes and ran her fingertips across her lips. But it wasn't like she was wiping him away. More like she was exploring. Remembering. At least that's how it seemed to him.

She opened her eyes. "Look. We're friends, Nick. Friends. But that's all. I'm sorry."

"Of course." He put on a smile. "I guess I'm still a little loopy from the anesthesia."

"Somebody tells me you're awake," Harriman called from the door.

"More or less," Nick said. He and Alexis exchanged a glance. He wondered how much Harriman had heard.

"I've already done my interview, Nick, so I'm going to go." Alexis nodded at him and left. He knew he should feel embarra.s.sed or maybe sad for how things had gone, but he kept thinking, I kissed Alexis Frost.

Harriman closed the door and then took the chair Alexis had just been sitting in. "I owe you an apology. We made a mistake." He hesitated. "I made a mistake. I'm sorry."

Nick started to cross his arms but thought better of trying to bend his damaged hand. "You thought I did it."

"When you're a cop, there are a lot of things you wish weren't true that are. This was one of them. But I should have gone with my gut. Because my gut said you didn't do it." He pressed his lips together so hard that the skin around them went white.

"Maybe next time you'll listen to your gut." Nick wasn't quite ready to forgive, but he could see how much the other man was struggling. And the memory of Alexis's kiss softened him.

"Technology's only as good as the human beings interpreting it. We screwed up. And almost got you kids killed."

Nick didn't like being called a kid, but it didn't seem worth arguing over. He sniffed. Could he still smell that coffee/cinnamon scent lingering in the air? And did Alexis always smell like that?

"It should have been a clue that the only DNA we got off the brick was Lucy's. Finding your DNA on her hand but not on the brick didn't add up, but we didn't even try to account for it. It starts to make sense if you know Moxley was wearing gloves."

"What about Lucy's hand?"

"Even though we can find DNA, it still can't tell you exactly when it was deposited or under what circ.u.mstances. In fact, the crime lab doesn't even test for the source, whether it's skin or blood or whatever. They just look for DNA. And spit-which, it turns out, is a big part of vomit-is an even better DNA source than blood. From what Ruby tells me, some of yours must have ended up on that accident victim when you held her hand. And that DNA got transferred to the pulse oximeter and then transferred to Lucy when the paramedics responded to the call about her being found in the vacant lot. It's called secondary transfer."

Nick didn't even feel embarra.s.sed by the whole vomiting thing anymore. "Ruby's the one who figured it out."

"Yeah, that Ruby." Harriman shook his head. "Who knows how her mind works."

"I think it works pretty well," Nick said sharply.

Harriman held up a hand. "I wasn't dissing her. She's pretty amazing, actually. If she didn't have a different way of looking at things, this all could have gone a lot worse." He rummaged in his coat pocket and took out a tape recorder. "Now I need to talk to you about what happened in Kenny Moxley's house."

Nick started with seeing Kenny at the SAR search. When he got to the part about Moxley shooting the knife from his hand, Harriman said, "If you're holding a weapon, that's where people tend to shoot, because it's what they're staring at. Even in gunfights between people who are familiar with firearms, both will tend to shoot at each other's hands. And you were the first-and we believe only-person Moxley ever shot."

Nick started to say something more, but all he could do was yawn.

Harriman clicked off his tape recorder. "I think I should let you get some rest."

After he left, Nick curled on his side, holding his injured hand off the bed, suspended in s.p.a.ce. He wondered if his dad knew what had happened. A part of him even wondered if his dad was proud of him.

His dreams had all been based on lies.