Upside Down

96

The sight of Marta Ruiz dragging Faith Ann toward the stern railing horrified Winter. As he descended the final course of treads, he kept his SIG Sauer aimed at the killer. He didn't have to look back over his shoulder to know that the scrap man was dead, that too many years stood between the time when he was a prison guard and the present. Winter cursed himself for misjudging Marta's strength-her level of threat. Even now, the jack's weight had her listing dramatically, but still she held the struggling child up between herself and Winter's pistol like a shield. A shot would be impossible.

His mind was calculating the situation, figuring the odds. This was a hostage situation-a grab bag of conflicting, self-interest-driven realities, probabilities, and variables-but far, far more than a mathematics equation to be worked out, for a child's life was at stake.

Winter was capable of putting a bullet into a very small target at close range, but this target was in motion and he needed a central nervous system hit, because if he only wounded her she could and would break Faith Ann's neck.

Knowing she had lost, Marta would want to escape. She would assume her partner was incapacitated: wounded, captured, or killed. She had no reason to harm Faith Ann, because the child was her only means of escape.

He watched Marta back into the steel railing and, using only her legs, go straight up to the top and drop, catlike, to the section of open deck behind it, Faith Ann imprisoned in her grip. She passed by the emergency rescue boat-a twelve-foot-long aluminum flat bottom with a thirty-five horsepower outboard motor.

Okay, Winter, now you can't shoot without risking her going into the river. Arresting her isn't your job. She has the upper hand. Just make her believe the truth-in exchange for Faith Ann, you will let her walk away.

Winter held the gun straight out to his side, knelt, and set it down on the deck.

“Okay, Marta, let Faith Ann go and I'll give you a pass.” Faith Ann's frightened eyes were locked on his.

“What kind of trick will you use? What deception do you have in mind? Shooting me when the child is out of the way? I know what a famous shot you are, Deputy Massey.”

“I'm not here as a cop, and I won't shoot you. You have my word on it. I won't try to stop you. I'll give you the key to the cuffs, and you can take that lifeboat. Your freedom for the girl, no tricks.”

She laughed.

“What about Arturo?” she asked.

“Your friend didn't make it,” Winter answered.

Winter was surprised at the change in her expression as she assimilated the news. Her black eyes glowed like hot coals, and her nostrils flared.

“Friend? Turo isn't my friend,” she shrieked. “I don't have any friends! Now you people have killed all I had in this world. Arturo was my heart-my baby brother. My Turo was the last of my blood. It was her! This little demon bitch has ended my world. This little monster must pay!”

In his years as a cop, Winter had never seen such an instant switch from laughter to fury before, such an explosive display of hatred.

“Let her go,” Winter pleaded. “She didn't do anything to you. You people killed her mother. This had nothing to do with her. Please, Marta, let her live.”

Winter saw that Marta was thinking, so maybe he could get to her. “I can't bring back your brother, but I can give you your freedom. Your freedom for Faith Ann. You have my word on it.”

“Words? Freedom?” she screamed at him. “What the fuck good is freedom without my Turo? I cared for him since he was two. I was his mother, his sister, his only friend. What the fuck do you know about freedom? You want to see what freedom looks like, Massey? This is freedom!”

And then she and the child went over the railing and were gone.