The Gambit (61 page)

‘No matter what happens, Rachel, you have to write your story.’

Owen’s voice echoed in my mind. I knew I had to write the story, and I would. Right now though, I wanted to be there for Owen, even if he didn’t know I was. If he was going to be arrested, maybe his reaction would be an added touch to bring out emotion in those who would read the story. I had to see these kinds of things to document them. I glanced around the car and saw a Nikon camera bag sitting near the stick shift. Without asking, I grabbed it and popped open the door.

“Hey, that’s mine!” Viktor called from the front seat.

“Rachel, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Grey raised his voice angrily. “Are you out of your mind?”

I slammed the door closed before they even had a chance to say anything else. I hurriedly walked with the crowd, and it grew denser with every step. I fumbled with the zipper, and I yanked on it to open the slit just enough to pull the camera out. I took off the lens and hung the strap around my neck.

I must have been nearing the center because I bumped into people left and right.

“Excuse me,” I said meekly, keeping my head down. I wore a scarf high around my neck, and my dyed, jet-black locks concealed most of my face.

“Get down I said!” a man’s voice echoed loudly.

“I am innocent!” the voice placated the uneasiness in my stomach because I knew he was okay. I pushed past more and more people, readying the camera above the heads to get a good shot of Owen. In reality, I just wanted to see him. I wanted a photo I could hold onto while he was locked up.

“Watch it, lady!” an old man sneered as I slid past him. I was now less than ten feet away from the cops, and through the many heads, I was almost certain I saw Owen in the center of it all. It
had
to be. He was still wearing the maintenance uniform he stole.

“Everyone, everybody back!” Another line of cops stood back to back with the ones facing Owen. I held my camera up and started snapping.

“Owen, get down on the ground now!” the cop screamed, his voice hoarse. “If you don’t put down your weapon, we will have no choice but to—”

The camera dropped, jolting my neck from the weight. I couldn’t hear the screams of the people around me, and I didn’t feel them as they ran away, pushing past. Another gunshot split the air, and I felt it pierce my soul. A sickening chill ran up my spine, and it raced past my scalp and face like lightning. My chest heaved up and down, and the ringing in my ears was so loud I could barely process what was going on. Everybody fought to go backward, but I didn’t. I pushed forward. Cops were in front of me, and I tried to jump up and push my body weight against them. I couldn’t hear their shouts, but they were trying to stop me.

He is fine, Rachel. He is fine. He is fine. Those were just warning shots
.

My heart pounded as I fought against the burly police officers to get a better view. I knew I was risking it all. They could have recognized me, but it didn’t matter. I had to
know.
I didn’t even notice that I was screaming.

“What did you
do
to him?!” I screamed a guttural, helpless cry.

The cops broke for just a moment, and what I saw made me freeze.

It was him. Owen. He lay on the street face down, and I caught a glimpse of his black hair identical to mine. I was pushed back violently by the cops, and I fell hard against the asphalt. I was probably scraped up, maybe even bleeding, but I pulled myself up to my feet. The image I just saw burned into my mind as if it were being branded there.

I could have sworn I saw
blood
. It was pooling up beside him. I couldn’t breathe, and I began to cough and choke. I now walked the same direction as everyone else, but I couldn’t feel my feet. I didn’t know where I was going. Heat flushed over the length of my body, my lower lip trembled, and a rock formed in my throat. To everyone around me, I was just a stranger. They had no idea I was his partner in crime. They had no idea I was his
Bonnie
.

The thought made me burst into tears. I covered my mouth in an attempt to silence my cries. I grabbed my gut with my other hand because I was almost certain I was going to vomit. The streets were wide and open, but I felt them narrowing. Everything was closing in. Hot tears blurred my vision, and I kept bumping into people. In those first steps, even after what I had saw, it almost felt like it wasn’t real. No, that wasn’t him. That wasn’t Owen. It
couldn’t
have been real. He was supposed to be in the back of a police car, going to some jail cell. The tears fell, but it hadn’t hit me. Then, like a freight train, it
did
.

Owen was dead. I saw it with my own eyes. He was bleeding out on the street. I collapsed to my knees and covered my face with my scarf. I sobbed, yet tried to conceal it. Someone reached down to grab my forearm and tried to help me to my feet. I pulled myself up by their grasp and shook them off. The tears dripped down every part of my face.

Owen Marina was dead. My Clyde was dead. The man I loved was dead. The thoughts attacked my mind like a ruthless parasite, and I could barely function. Where was I?

Suddenly, I felt a pair of hands on my shoulders, and through blurred vision I thought I saw the scruff of Grey’s chin. He guided me somewhere, and I heard a door open. I was pushed into the back seat, and I realized I was back in the car. I felt the camera get ripped from my neck.

“What happened? What just happened?” Grey’s voice asked behind the sound of the engine accelerating.

My lower lip trembled, and I sobbed so hard I could barely keep my mouth open. My forehead was so scrunched up it hurt.

“He’s dead!” I screamed, followed by guttural moans. “He—he’s dead! I saw it, he is dead, lying on the street. They shot him! He—he is gone…” My voice stretched out and was distorted from the choking tears.

I could hear Grey coughing, but he didn’t respond.

“Hold on tight,” Viktor’s steady voice instructed. “We have to get out of here, fast. They are going to block off these streets so quickly we will be dead meat if we aren’t quick enough.”

I didn’t remember the car ride. It was a blur. Just as soon as I was pushed in, I was pulled back out just as fast. I couldn’t process much, but I went down some steps. They looked like the steps that led to the basement—Viktor’s hideout. I heard him fiddling with keys, and then he swung open the door. Grey had one arm of mine around his shoulder, and he was supporting me walking. I heard him cry the entire way back. He didn’t say a word. He just cried.

“No—no! Don’t let her in here!” Briana shouted; her voice was frantic.

“What do you mean?” Viktor shot back.

“Natasha, turn it off! Turn it off, now!”

“I’m trying, the button doesn’t work, and I can’t find the remote!”

“What the hell is going on here?” Viktor raised his voice.

“She can’t see this right now, Viktor, please! Natasha, unplug it!”

She
…

Was she talking about me? I shook myself out of Grey’s grasp and stumbled forward past the worn couch. The old TV set was behind Briana. She pressed her backside against the screen so I couldn’t see it.

“What don’t you want me to see?” I asked, disoriented.

“
Amiga
, after what you just saw out there, you
can’t
see this. Trust me!” I pushed her out of the way. “Please, Rachel! Don’t do this to yourself right now! Trust me!”

I could barely hear the muffled voices of the news anchors behind all of our shouting. I wiped the tears out of my eyes and pointed a finger at Natasha as she neared the outlet.

“Don’t even
think
about it.” I warned her. She stopped in her tracks and pressed her lips together, turning around. Then, I noticed Briana
and
Natasha’s faces were wet from tears. Briana began bawling and walked over to the couch. The sound pulled me back into reality a bit because I had never heard her cry like that. I had helped her through dozens of break-ups, but she never cried like
that
.

“I’m begging you, Rachel! Just wait!” she shouted again between groaning tears.

“Shh!”

I neared the faded image of the old TV set and bent down to hear better.

“…We are covering both stories simultaneously. We will go back to the scene outside of the CNN building in Downtown Atlanta in just a moment, but back to our other breaking news out Melbourne Beach, Florida…”

“No!” Briana shrieked. Her voice was raspy from yelling.

I stared at the TV screen numb, afraid of what was to come next.

“…Marta Cruz, the mother of Rachel Flores, was found dead this morning in her beachside home. Emergency responders found a suicide note vaguely stating her daughter’s involvement with a terrorist was just too much to bear. She said she had failed her family and her daughter…”

The words became garbled. I heard Briana’s violent cries behind me, followed by the muffled voices of Viktor and Grey. My breathing was shallow and rapid, and I could feel my stomach churning. I began to dry heave and retched everything that was in my stomach onto the carpet floor. I felt the clammy hands of someone around my arms, and they dragged me away. The room was closing in, and I felt so hot the sweat must have been dripping from my skin. I dry heaved on an empty stomach, but I didn’t stop. I didn’t listen. I couldn’t hear anybody.

A tremor arose within me, and it was so painful it made all the muscles from my stomach to my forehead contract, and I let out the longest, rawest cry I had ever experienced. Drool slipped out of my mouth which was stuck open, and I groaned and sobbed. I was too numb to feel anger. I was too hurt to feel anything else but pain. I hiccupped and cried violently, and my vision began to turn fuzzy. The room turned yellow, then black. I hit the floor.

I remembered one thought.

They
killed my mother.

I locked the door behind me and walked to the far corner of my office, cupping my mouth in order to silence my cries. I hadn’t cried in years…but this,
this
was something tragic. Rachel’s mother was dead.

I sobbed harder and slammed my fist against the Plexiglas that encircled my office. It bounced and recoiled away, but I ignored the throbbing pain. Even nine-hundred miles away, I could feel Rachel’s anguish. It singed the edges of my soul. I had watched her grow up without her father, and now, her mother was gone. Both of her parents were dead at the age of twenty-three. She didn’t deserve this kind of misery so young.