Studying the crane, I compare the real thing with what I’ve seen in the videos. Where the counterbalance weight would go. The cracked glass of the operator’s cab from his head slamming against it when the crane fell over. He’d been experienced, knew when to push the limits, Beau said.
He wouldn’t have hurt himself deliberately. He wouldn’t have caused the accident unless he thought he could escape unscathed, but if he was that experienced, he’d know that would be practically impossible, and it had been. He’s lucky he’s not dead.
I follow the boom as it lays in the dirt, and I drop to my knees where I imagine Rick had lain trapped. What had gone through his mind? Did he think he was going to die? Did flashes of his life with Renata blink before him, happy times, things they hadn’t yet done? How much he missed her? Did he think he’d never see her again? Or was he in too much pain to think of anything at all? I rest my hand on the metal; it’s nothing but cold. Maybe that’s all that can be trapped in it. The misery, what it had stolen from those people that day.
Tears run down my face though I try not to cry. He deserves so much more than this.
I’m wiping my eyes clear when the dirt explodes near my side.
I know exactly what the whisper is, the silent whip as a bullet slices through the air. I’m out in the open, and all I can do is flee.
If I scream, Beau and Talia will run to me, and that’s the last thing I want. The dirt explodes near my hand, and chips of rock pelt against my jacket’s sleeve. I don’t give them time to aim closer, and with my lungs heaving, I shove my pen and notebook into my purse and sprint with all my energy for the building.
I need to find cover.
Dirt flies into the air as the shooter tries again, and this time I swear I could feel the hot bullet hum past my cheek.
I sprint toward the lobby. Beau has Talia backed up against a wall, his arm resting above her head, the other hand playing with her hair. “Beau,” I scream as I get closer, my hardhat flying off my head.
His gaze collides with mine, and he reaches for his cell phone at the same instant Talia breaks away from him and starts running toward me.
“No!” he yells and hauls her back by the collar of her jacket. “Stay out of sight.”
She fights him, but by the time she’s able to free herself, I’m sheltered by the thick beams and I fall to my knees gasping for breath.
“Fuck.” He starts hollering at someone on the other end of his cell, his face red.
Talia drops by my side and presses her body into mine. “What’s happening? Are you okay?” she keeps asking me. “Are you okay? What’s going on?”
“I’m okay,” I say, but she doesn’t let me go.
“We need to get out of here,” Beau says, shoving his cell into his pocket. “I had two men with us, neither of them are answering. This way.”
He hustles us through the rear of the structure, a possessive hand pressing against Talia’s back, and an SUV similar to Beau’s is waiting on the street. There’s a door chained shut in this part of the fence as well, but we don’t use it, instead crouching and crawling through a large hole cut in the wiring that shouldn’t be there. It adds to Beau’s temper, and he swears under his breath as we step through and onto the street.
The SUV’s windows are tinted too darkly for me to see who’s driving, but Beau trusts him. He opens the back door, pulling off Talia’s hardhat and pushing us inside before trotting around the back and flinging himself into the front passenger seat, shoving his and Talia’s hardhats near his feet. “To my penthouse.” He looks back at us. “Rick told me to keep you safe. He’s going to have my ass for this.” He turns and rests his head on the chair, blows out a breath.
I lean over, press my forehead to my knees, breathe in and out.
Talia has curled into herself, and tears are streaming down her cheeks. She’s been on the streets in a different way, has witnessed violence in a different way than I have. It’s still a shock, but something I’ll process a lot easier than she will.
I’ve witnessed gunfire before—gang members warring for territory, loan sharks collecting their dues when money isn’t forthcoming—and snooping around after Stevie, I’ve been around a lot of firearms, loaded, unloaded, being cleaned. For an article for the Times, I took a firearms class, and I can imagine the kick and the smell. What I could never imagine is aiming at something other than a piece of paper intending to take someone down, perhaps forever. I don’t have it in me to kill anyone.
Someone wants me dead, and it’s easy to guess who. She knows I’m in the city and had the patience to wait until I was out in the open—an easy target. I won’t be able to go anywhere without looking over my shoulder. Talia should go home; it was foolish to bring her with me. I don’t want her getting caught in my shadow, and I’m not leaving until I get to the bottom of Rick’s accident.
Beau lives downtown and during rush hour, the streets are clogged with traffic. I feel safe, and I lift my head and pull Talia into my arms. “It’s okay.”
“You could have died. Then what would I have done?”
I squeeze her in a fierce hug and tell her the truth. “You’d be just fine. I have no doubt about that.”
The SUV stops behind the building, and it would be like Beau, from what little I know of him, to live in the most luxurious, elegant penthouse Cedar Hill has to offer. He probably owns this building, and possibly every building on the block. The security will be topnotch.
“Come on,” he says, climbing out of the truck. Beau opens the door and we both slip out the back. Talia stumbles, shaking, not over the shock, and instead of impatiently pushing her along, he picks her up and cradles her against his chest.
I don’t pretend to dislike his attention toward her now.
The private lift is waiting for us, and Beau holds Talia the entire way. We stand in silence, and I lean against the wall, trying to find my bearings. It’s silly, but it isn’t the getting shot at part that worries me. It’s that she’ll try again, and again, and again. That’s the part that freaks me out. I’ll always have an enemy in Cedar Hill. “Fuck,” I whisper.