Broken Places by Tracy Clark

Author:Tracy Clark [Clark, Tracy]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2018-03-09T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 19

We met in a tangle just inches from the Glock, both of us pawing for it. I elbowed him again. He punched me in the head, stunning me again, but there was too much adrenaline flowing through me for me to give way. If I did, I was dead. I kneed him in the groin, which gave him something else besides the gun to think about. It also gave me enough time to grab the gun and roll away.

I didn’t want to kill him, not in Pop’s room, not on the day of his memorial, but I would if it came down to him or me. I scrambled to my feet, turned, and assumed a shooting position—knees flexed, one foot forward, arms out, sights to the eyes—but he wasn’t where he’d been. He was halfway out the door, running like a maniac. He bounded down the stairs, his heavy feet sounding like the hasty retreat of stampeding buffalo. I took off after him, the room spinning, my legs wobbly, tumbling down the steps, seeing double as two of him cleared the bottom riser and tore out the front door.

The sun’s glare hit me like the blast from a klieg light, blinding me for a moment, flooding my eyes. The loud murmur of many voices told me that the service was over. I tumbled out into the courtyard and ran toward the front of the church, my head pounding, squinting into the sun. A crowd milled around on the front steps of the church, and the man I was chasing shoved his way right through the middle of it, soliciting rude remarks and shocked expressions. I holstered my gun. I wouldn’t need it. If he’d had a weapon, I would be dead now. My throat burned, my airway felt constricted. “Stop him!” I weaved in and out of the crowd, eyes on the fleeing man ahead of me. “Move! Watch out! Move!”

The stunned crowd parted, but no one stopped the man. As I ran, I could feel blood trickling from my forehead. I kept running. I cleared the crowd just as the man barreled across the street and disappeared into the gangway of a row of pale, squat apartment buildings. I dashed into the street, narrowly avoiding getting mowed down by a car. The driver lay on his horn, and the noise bore through my brain like the assault from a hundred rusty spikes.

I heard Whip’s voice behind me and multiple sets of feet bringing up the rear, but I didn’t stop to look. I raced ahead, jumping over garden hoses and sprinklers, tripping over uneven sidewalks. My head throbbed; my eyes were trained ahead, scanning the parking slots and gangways, searching frantically for the man who’d tried to kill me.

“Freeze! Police!” a woman barked from behind me. I stopped running. “Hands up! Turn around!” My eyes desperately searched the lot, but the man I’d been chasing was long gone. He’d slipped into some nook or cranny and disappeared into shadows like a wisp of lazy smoke, but I wasn’t going anywhere.

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