Page 71 of The Mouse and the Maestro

“Yes, but I was specific about not hurting you.”

“And when we were having dinner with you and someone shot out the window and followed us, what was that about?” Jane asked.

“It was the ideal time to try and take you, but I swear I never wanted to hurt you. I wanted you off my trail, not killed,” Charles said. “You know I care about you, Jane. We go back a ways, and you’re one of the good ones.”

“But you’re not,” Jane said, sniffling again.

“Don’t say that,” Charles said, sounding wounded.

She stopped at a red light and turned to face him. “How can you say you’re good when you’re talking about killing Blue?” As she spoke, she reached her right hand to the latch of Blue’s seatbelt and tapped it repeatedly until he took notice. She kept eye contact with Charles as Blue surreptitiously began easing out his belt, stretching it across his waist and heading for the clasp.

“It’s a necessary evil, but I promise you I’ll do it quick and painless and then you and I…” he trailed off.

“What? What is the end of that sentence, Charles? You’ll let me go, knowing what I know about you? We’ll ride off into the sunset together? You’ll have Sunday dinner with my family like the old days? Or you’ll have to kill me, too?” She held his eyes. He gave her a sad smile.

“This is hard for me, it’s wrenching, but it’s not my fault. You’ve stumbled into something you had no part of, and you’ve become a liability,” he said. “But the same goes for you. I’ll make it quick and painless.”

“My father will kill you, and he won’t make it painless,” she promised.

“I know, but he’ll have to catch me first, and I won’t make it easy,” Charles said.

“He will catch you, and he’ll kill you himself with his bare hands,” Jane said.

Charles didn’t reply, but Blue thought he saw a shudder pass through his body. Three things happened then. The light turned green, Blue clicked the latch on his seatbelt, Jane mashed her foot to the accelerator, jerked a hard right, and wrapped the car around a utility pole.

For a second, everything froze. Jane came to first; she was slightly stunned but not unconscious. She had been expecting the crash, but even so it left her dazed and shell-shocked. There had been a sound right before they hit the pole, a loud bang. With nothing short of panic, she inspected Blue to make sure he was alive.

He was. He had a strong pulse and was breathing fine. There was no visible blood on him, but he was unconscious, his head lying against the cracked window, a giant goose egg already forming on his skull. In the back, Charles was beginning to stir. The only one not wearing his seatbelt, he had been tossed haphazardly to the left side of the car, but that worked in his favor, the thick seat doing its best to cushion him from any impact or trauma. Jane reached into Blue’s jacket and pulled out his gun. She had watched Ethan handle it earlier, absently noting the lack of a safety. It was ready to go. All she had to do was use it.

Charles opened the door and spilled out onto the pavement. Jane opened her door and tested her legs. They were wobbly, but they worked. Charles was heading away from her, gun in hand. She was a bit panicked he was heading around the car, toward Blue.

“Stop,” she called, raising the gun and taking aim. Her left arm didn’t want to cooperate, but, being right handed, she didn’t much need it.

Charles did as she did, turning to face her, his gun slack.

“Drop your gun,” Jane commanded.

“Can’t do that, Janie,” he said. His hand tightened on the trigger, but he made no move to raise it.

“Drop it,” Jane warned again.

“Come on, Jane. Are you going to kill me, really? You couldn’t even kill bugs when we were kids.”

“Of course I’m not going to kill you, Charles,” Jane said, her mind flashing back to something Maggie had said. “But if your aim is good enough, you don’t have to take the kill shot.”

His eyes flashed with disbelief, followed quickly by fear and anger. He raised his gun, and she shot him in the right shoulder, forcing him to stumble back a step and drop to the ground in misery, the gun flying far afield of his fingers.

I should go and get it,Jane thought. She took a step, stumbled, and stopped short. Her eyes were drawn to her left side where blood poured from an open wound in her shoulder.Oh, I was the one who was shot in the car,she thought, almost remotely. “I always thought it would hurt more,” she whispered, and then the shock began to ebb and the pain slammed into her, knocking her to her knees.

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” Charles asked. He was on his knees across from her, panting from the pain of the wound she’d caused him.

“A lot,” she replied.

“I’m not certain I would have been able to go through with killing you. You were always in my soft spot,” Charles gasped, falling forward, his palms scraping roughly on the pavement.

“Pretty sure I could have killed you,” Jane replied. Charles barked a harsh laugh, and it was the last thing she remembered before everything faded to black, like a heavy curtain being closed at the end of a play.

Chapter 30

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