Killing Hope (Gabe Quinn Thriller) (72 page)

In one fell swoop, my whole belief system had come crashing to a cataclysmic end.

My son was a cold-blooded killer.

No changing that.

The proof was in the pudding.

210

^{___________________________}

‘Hello, Dad. Nice of you to pay a visit.’ He had to shout above the roaring wind. But it was George’s voice, all right. The voice of my beloved son. Not the robotic funeral dirge I’d become accustomed to.’ You’re just in the nick of time. You were always a stickler for time-keeping.’

I went to say something, anything, but nothing came out – or if it did, the wind whisked it away before anyone heard it. Maybe for the best.

‘As you can see, I have two of your most favorite people in the whole wide world here with me.’

I saw him tap Jamie and then Bill on the head with the muzzle of the gun.

‘Of course, they’re drugged up to the eyeballs right now and don’t really know what’s happening. Which means they’re being real nice and cooperative. Do you know what’s happening, Dad? Have you connected all those dots of yours yet? Are you going to be cooperative?’

I was aware of my mouth still working wordlessly.

I must have looked like a man who’d just found out his son was a murderer.

‘Don’t you want to speak to me? That’s all you’ve wanted for months.’

Truth was, I was paralyzed by disbelief. Heart on fire, stoked by the billows of my lungs. Brain still playing catch-up.

‘No matter.’ He shouted. ‘I guess this will all play out as it will whether you choose to participate or not.’

He waggled the gun in my direction.

‘You going to shoot me, Dad?’

I lowered the Glock, automatically – mainly because it had become a dead weight in my hands – but partly because pointing it at my own flesh and blood seemed somehow unholy.

‘You had no idea, did you?’

His eyes were wild. Feral. There were tears in mine.

‘I expect you’d like some answers.’ He shouted. ‘I know I would if I was in your shoes. How can this be? How can my son take the lives of others? When did he lose the plot?’

‘You’ve stopped taking your medicine, haven’t you?’

‘Guess it runs in the family.’

‘George ...’

‘I’m speaking!’ He yelled, then, softer: ‘God damn it, Dad. I’m speaking. You never let me speak.’

‘George –’

‘Let me finish! Jesus!’

Again, he tapped Bill’s head with the gun. This time harder. I saw Bill blink involuntarily. Otherwise there was no reaction; he was a zombie, just like Jamie.

‘You see, Daddy dear, all that your fancy therapists and your astute men of medicine ever did for me was diagnose a disorder. You got the bill while I got the brush-off. Those magical meds kept me walking the straight and narrow for years. Helped me get a great education. Helped me hook a great woman and start a family. I owe them a lot. But the truth is, without them, I see things, Dad. Not dead people like Bill here. That’s bullshit. I see patterns of predictability. I’ve seen them forever. And your interfering muted them for a long time.’

‘George …’

‘No. Listen to me for a change. I saw Harland Laboratories producing a faulty vaccine. They were going to kill thousands of babies. Millions across the world. I had to do something about it, Dad. Wouldn’t you?’

‘But taking the child’s life …’

‘She was destined to run the show some day. She left me no choice.’ He shook his head, violently. ‘No choice.’

 
‘But, George ... this is all wrong, Can’t you see if you prevent something from happening, no one will ever know? History will just see you as a murderer.’

George threw me a narrow-eyed glare. Fierce enough to scare lions. He’d always hated me being right – as sons often do. For all his grandiose lecturing the thought hadn’t even occurred to him.

‘I’m begging you, son. Just let them go. Jamie and Bill have nothing to do with this. Your fight is with me. Not with them. This is all about you and me. It always has been. Please, George. Just let them go.’

My son’s dark glower deepened – as it always had done whenever I’d put demands on him.

‘The same way you let Momma go?’ He roared. ‘The same way you allowed her to die?’

Flames scorched my chest. I knew it was coming. Knew the accusation would come. This moment had been brewing for months. Time and again I’d tried to defuse it. But George had refused to talk it through. Here was my penance.

‘You should have done better, Dad. You could have stopped it. If you had made better choices Momma would be alive today.’

‘All our actions have consequences.’ I said. ‘I was trying to do the right thing.’

Listen to me: I sounded defeated, words hollow. Truth was, I did blame myself for Hope’s death. Eleven months ago, while I had been desperately trying to save a child’s life,
The Maestro
had been in my family home, in our bedroom, killing Hope with his damned piano wires. I’d arrived too late to save Leo Benjamin beneath the 7
^th
Street Bridge. Too late again to save Hope, my mortally-wounded wife – who survived for a brief seven days in Cedars-Sinai under the care of Eric Bryce – before becoming
The Maestro’s
final victim to date. But I had been trying to make the right decisions. George had never understood that. Never accepted some things are out of our hands.

In his eyes, I had killed his mother.

He was right.

George’s expression twisted in on itself. ‘Your pig-headed arrogance cost them both their lives, Dad. And now it’s your turn to feel what I feel.’

Before I could respond, George pushed Jamie into the gaping hole.

Just like that. Without a second thought.

He heaved her through the fierce maw.

Out into the cold air and the thousand foot drop.

211

^{___________________________}

Then everything happened in a blur. In slow-motion. In surreal time.

George grabbed Bill by the scruff of his neck and proceeded to throw him after Jamie.

My pulse kicked back in and I raised the Glock. I didn’t know if I was capable of shooting my own son. Or if I could get a shot off before he hurled Bill into the ravenous maw. But I snatched an aim all the same. Went to squeeze the trigger – just as a crack of thunder reverberated around the observation deck.

Blood spurted from George’s shoulder.

His wild eyes slammed shut with pain.

Another bang echoed around us and another spurt of blood jetted from George’s upper thigh.

Then he was twisting, falling. Taking Bill down with him.

And both men tumbled into the hole!

But I was already stumbling forward on leaden legs. Reaching out a hand. Desperate to prevent yet more tragedy from scarring my family.

I saw George grab the metal frame as they fell through. Saw him hook fingers around the razor-edged metal. Saw Bill’s jacket snag on a jaw of jagged glass. Hook him up. Saw the fabric of his jacket start to rip, shred, ladder. Both men were within a heartbeat of certain death. Dangling in the cruel wind. I fell to my knees. Freezing wind screamed in my face. George’s fingertips were white, straining, slipping. He was staring up at me with defiant eyes, challenging me as he always had.

What now, Dad? What are you going to do now? Going to make another one of your epic decisions? Another one you’re doomed to live with, but can’t.

Behind him I could see a craze of illuminated city streets and the tiny red-and-white lights of cars far, far below.

Insanely, George started laughing.

It was the maniacal cackle of a madman.

In that terrifying moment I saw every one of his victims. Every one of the innocent lives lost. Every one of the families devastated forever by his madness. And I remembered my promise to a grieving mother. My solemn pledge to right the wrong of her murdered child.

I looked into George’s feral eyes and reacted automatically.

There was no time to think.

No time to breathe.

There was only one choice to make:

A life for a life.

I grabbed Bill by the elbows and heaved with all my might.

As I did, George’s fingers finally lost their grip.

And I watched with a sword of fire slicing through my heart as my only begotten son plunged to his death.

212

^{___________________________}

With every last morsel of strength I could muster, I hauled my friend from the Bureau out of the jaws of death. Then Sonny was by my side. Helping me drag him clear. Scooting away from the deathly drop. We backed up against the curved wall of the observation deck. Buffeted by wind and disbelief.

I was shattered. Exhausted. I rolled onto my back. There was a jackhammer behind my eyeballs. Everything spinning crazily out of control.

What had I done?

What had I done?

I’d killed George!

Hands coupled beneath my neck. Fingers locked. I realized Sonny was resting my head in her lap. I blinked up at her shocked eyes. Felt my own spring with tears.

‘God forgive me, Sonny.’

She brushed at my face. Tears, I guess.

‘It’s going to be all right.’ Her voice seemed far away, lost in the howling wind. ‘Everything’s going to be all right.’