Dead Even Page 40

  “You never give up, do you?” Rafferty asked. Standing behind Jared, he turned just enough to show Sara that he was holding a gun to Jared’s back. Next to Rafferty was Claire, who looked miserable.

  “Are you okay?” Sara asked her husband.

  “Yeah,” he said. Turning to Rafferty, he added, “Let Sara go.”

  “Not a chance. Now I get an extra hos—”

  “He’s got a gun!” someone shouted as chaos enveloped the crowd. Within seconds, everyone else on the platform scattered, racing for the turnstiles.

  Using the confusion to her advantage, Sara reached for the gun in her right pants pocket.

  “Don’t do that,” Rafferty warned. He shoved Jared out of the way and pointed his gun at Sara. “I’ll decorate the walls with you.” He was disheveled, sweating.

  As Jared stopped himself at the edge of the platform, Sara froze. Seeing the gun aimed at his wife, Jared did the same.

  “Now give it to Claire,” Rafferty said as people continued to scramble from the platform.

  Claire reached out for the gun, but Sara hesitated. “You don’t have to do this,” Sara said.

  “Shut up,” Claire shot back. She took the gun and led Sara toward the edge of the platform, near her husband.

  As Sara and Claire walked in front of Jared, Sara shot him a desperate look. They had to do something.

  Determined to save his wife, and unable to get a clear view of Rafferty, Jared made his decision. Just as Claire passed him, he kicked her in the back of the knees, sweeping her legs out from under her. Hitting the floor with a jolt, she dropped her gun. Wasting no time, Sara lunged at Rafferty, whose gun was now pointed at Jared.

  Rafferty got off a single shot, then turned his gun on Sara. But before he could pull the trigger, Sara plowed into him, connecting with a swift knee to the groin. The gun flew out of his hands, but she was too late—he had already shot at Jared. And as Rafferty doubled over in pain, Sara registered her husband’s scream.

  “Jared!” she shouted. She turned around, but he was nowhere in sight. She ran back to the edge of the platform. He was lying on the train tracks. Blood ran from his shoulder. “Jared, are you okay? Can you hear me?” she asked.

  He didn’t answer. From the vacant look on his face, she could see he was in shock.

  Behind her, Sara saw Claire helping Rafferty to his feet. On her right, near the edge of the platform, was Rafferty’s gun. She looked back at her husband. He was just starting to shake off the effects of his injury. Get the gun, she told herself. Jared’ll be fine. But as she moved for the gun, she heard the jarring electronic tone that signaled the imminent arrival of an incoming train. Leaning over the platform, she could see the train’s lights in the tunnel. There wasn’t much time. Jared was still lying there. So was the gun. She had to pick one. The choice was easy.

  She braced herself on the edge of the platform and was about to leap down to the tracks when she felt Rafferty grab her by the hair. As Sara was yanked backwards, she managed to spin around. She lashed out uncontrollably. “Get off me! I’ll kill you!” She clawed at his arms, then his face—anything to make him let go. Taken aback by her ferocity, Rafferty released her and crouched to get his gun. Sara knew she had to be quick. At the edge of the platform, she could see the incoming train barreling toward the station. It was too close. There was no way she’d be able to get in and out in time. “Jared! Stand up!” she shouted.

  Jared followed her instructions and tottered to his feet. His legs felt like they were stuffed with rubber bands, and as the pain set in, the smell of his own blood made him nauseous.

  “You’ll be okay,” Sara said. “Take my hand.” Dropping to her stomach, she extended her arm down to Jared. The ground was vibrating from the motion of the oncoming train, and as the noise got louder, the nearby rats scattered.

  Jared reached up and grabbed his wife’s hand. But before she could pull him up, Sara saw Jared staring over her shoulder. Someone was behind her. She turned around and looked up.

  Rafferty pointed his gun at her. With a cold look in his eyes, he glared at Jared. “Let go of her.”

  “Don’t do this,” Sara begged.

  Rafferty didn’t answer. He could see the bright lights of the train as it emerged from the tunnel. “Say hi to Sara’s parents for me.”

  The train was only seconds away. This was Jared’s last chance to climb out. He didn’t care, though. He wasn’t going to put her at risk. Letting go of Sara’s hand, Jared pulled away from his wife.

  “What’re you doing?” Sara yelled, her voice barely audible above the train.

  “He’ll kill you!” Jared shouted back.

  “I don’t care!” Sara screamed, still holding out her arm. “Get back here!”

  The train was right there. As Jared searched the space below the platform, Sara knew he wasn’t going to make it. They were out of time. It was impossible to hear anything but the shrieking of the train’s wheels against the rusted tracks, but that didn’t stop Sara from shouting one last “I love you” to her husband.

  “Jared!” she pleaded. “Jaaaared!” At the last possible moment, Sara pulled her arm up and rolled away from the edge. And as he watched the train swallow Jared, Rafferty stepped back and smiled.

  Claire ran for the doors when the train stopped. “Let’s go!” she shouted at Rafferty.

  “No.”

  “What are you talking about? Let’s get out of here!”

  “Not until I see his body.”

  “Not until you…Oscar, this is our chance! Let’s go!”

  “Forget the train. This is more important.”

  “Stop being so obsessed with them! We can—”

  “Go if you want, but I’m staying. I’m not risking any more loose ends.”

  As the train doors chimed to close, Claire hesitantly returned to Rafferty. “We’ll leave as soon as you check it out, right?” she said.

  Without responding, Rafferty approached the edge of the platform as the train pulled out of the station. Leaning over and examining the tracks, all he saw was the blood from Jared’s shoulder wound. Maybe the train had pushed him to the other side of the—But before Rafferty could complete his thought, he saw Sara charging at him.

  “You killed him!” she screamed. When she smashed into Rafferty, he dropped his gun and, caught off balance by the impact, went flying over the edge of the platform. But as he fell, he managed to catch hold of Sara’s jacket. Before either of them knew what was happening, they had plummeted to the tracks. Rafferty hit first, and Sara landed on top of him. Sara, wild with rage, was the first one up. As Rafferty struggled to rise, Sara grabbed him by his hair and rammed her knee into his face. “You psychotic piece of shit!” she screamed. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

  Rafferty’s answer came in the form of a single backhanded punch that hit Sara in the side of the face and sent her straight to the ground. Raising his hand to strike her again, Rafferty didn’t see Jared’s fist until it was too late. “Don’t. Touch. My. Wife!” Jared growled as his knuckles crashed into Rafferty’s jaw. Sara retraced her husband’s steps to the narrow crawl space that had saved his life. Created by the pedestrian ledge that extended from the platform over the edge of the tracks, the tiny gap was just deep enough to protect her husband.

  Using his good arm, Jared hit Rafferty in the stomach. And again in the face. And again in the stomach. For every restless hour, for every frustrated moment, for every ounce of fear he and Sara had suffered, Jared was determined to pay Rafferty back. Eventually, he grabbed Rafferty by the collar of his shirt and stared at his beaten face. Then a single gunshot sounded. Jared slumped to the floor.

  Sara saw blood pouring from her husband’s back. She wheeled around. Claire was standing on the platform and holding Rafferty’s gun.

  “Jared!” Sara screamed, rushing to his side.

  “Oscar, are you okay?” Claire asked.

  Rafferty nodded, struggling to catch his breath. He reached up and recl
aimed his gun from Claire.

  “Jared, speak to me!” Sara cried. “Please speak to me!”

  Jared didn’t say a word. But as Sara hunched over him, she caught a glimpse of the leather ankle holster that Barrow had given her husband. Carefully, she reached down, hoping to get her hands on the small pistol.

  “Nobody move!” a police officer yelled as he raced down the platform. He pointed his gun at Rafferty. Guff followed behind the officer.

  Rafferty pointed his gun at Jared and Sara. Claire picked up Sara’s gun and did the same. “Let us out of here now, or I’ll kill them both!” Rafferty shouted from the tracks. “I swear!”

  “I don’t negotiate,” the officer said. He aimed his gun at Rafferty and inched his way farther down the platform. “And you’re in no position to make demands.”

  “Oh, no?” Rafferty asked. “Between you and your sidekick, you have one gun. We have two. If you try and shoot one of us, the other’s going to kill the happy couple. I’d say that’s a damn good position.”

  Looking down at Sara and Jared, Guff saw that Sara was hiding the small pistol right below Jared’s shoulder. “Don’t listen to him,” Guff said.

  “I’m not joking,” Rafferty warned.

  “You do what you want,” Guff said confidently. “But if you try to hurt them, he’s going to blow both your heads off. He’s going to start with her and end with you.”

  Unnerved, but refusing to budge, Claire kept her gun pointed at Sara and Jared.

  Guff turned to the officer. “Can you make the shot?”

  “I’ll make it,” the officer said.

  “I’m warning you—don’t fuck with me,” Rafferty said. “You have three seconds to decide. One…”

  Nobody moved.

  “Two…”

  Still nothing.

  “Thr—”

  “Her gun’s empty!” Sara shouted.

  “What?” Claire asked.

  “It’s empty. I emptied it before I left the office.”

  “She’s lying,” Rafferty said.

  “No, I’m not,” Sara insisted. “They wouldn’t let me take it out until I emptied it.”

  Claire looked down at her gun. Her hands were trembling.

  “Claire, fire it at me,” Sara said. “There’s nothing in there.”

  “Don’t believe her, Claire!” Rafferty shouted. “She’s a liar!”

  But as the tears rolled down Claire’s cheeks, she lowered her gun. Guff grinned at Rafferty. “Now what was that you were saying about one gun versus two?”

  Rafferty kept his gun pointed at Sara, while the officer kept his gun pointed at Rafferty. “I’m not going to jail,” Rafferty said.

  “Actually, you are,” Guff said. “The only thing you have to decide is whether you’re going to be riding there in a cop car or an ambulance.”

  “That’s not true,” Rafferty said. “I’ll hire the best lawyers in the city.”

  Sara knew he was right. He’d hire the best money could buy. And with the fingerprint gloves, they’d have plenty to work with. She looked down at Jared, who was still bleeding in her lap. No, she told herself. She couldn’t let Rafferty walk.

  “You can get any lawyer you want,” Guff said. “All you have to do is give us the gun. You do that, and you’ll be in a much better position to get out of this.” Realizing he had Rafferty’s attention, he added, “You know I’m right. It’s the only smart thing to do.”

  “This isn’t an easy case,” Rafferty said as he took his finger off the trigger. “With the right defense team, I’m off the hook. I’ll make bail by—”

  “You think you’re making bail?” Sara blurted. “The judge isn’t going to allow bail for this. That cold-blooded murder of Conrad—”

  “That wasn’t me!” Rafferty shouted, once again raising his gun.

  “And let’s not forget what you did to Elliott and Kozlow, and Arnold, too.”

  “She’s just trying to rile you,” Guff said.

  “Don’t listen to him,” Sara said, still hiding Jared’s gun. Jared’s breathing became labored. She didn’t have much longer. “Once we have you, you’ll never see sunlight again.”

  “Oh, I get it,” Rafferty said. “You figure if you enrage me enough, I’ll actually try and shoot you. And if I do that, this cop gets to put a bullet in my brain.” He shook his head. “I’m walking out of here, I’m making my one phone call, and I’m sleeping in my own bed tonight.”

  “Not a chance,” Sara said, raising her voice. She could feel Jared shaking. “They’ll never let you out!”

  “Sara, shut up!” Guff yelled.

  “It’s a death penalty case!” Sara screamed. “You’re getting the death penalty!”

  “Good-bye, Sara,” Rafferty said, lowering his gun. “It was lovely to make your acquaintance.” As he approached the edge of the platform, Rafferty raised his arm and held out his gun to the officer. The officer reached down to take it. But before the officer could even react, Rafferty pulled the trigger and shot him in the stomach. He then turned his gun toward Sara.

  In one fluid motion, Sara pulled her gun and fired. Three consecutive bullets ripped into Rafferty. Two in his chest, one in his shoulder. As he staggered backward, Sara fired another shot. And another. And another. She pulled the trigger again, but heard only a click. Click. Click. Click. Rafferty continued to stumble. When he lost his footing on the train tracks, he fell backward and his body crashed to the ground. It wasn’t until that moment that Sara finally took a breath. The threats, the frustration, the angling and manipulation—they were all finally gone.

  Hearing a soft moan from her husband, Sara dropped her gun and cradled Jared’s head in her arms. Right there: That was why she did it. “I need an ambulance!” she shouted. “Please!”

  Blinking back into consciousness, Jared opened his eyes. “Did we win?” he whispered.

  Her eyes welled up with tears. “Always the competitor.”

  “Just answer me.”

  She thought about Conrad. “Yeah,” she sobbed. “We won.”

  “Terrific,” Jared whispered.

  “Are you okay?” Sara asked.

  “I’m not sure. I can’t feel my legs.”

  Chapter 21

  “THE DISTRICT ATTORNEY WILL SEE YOU NOW, MS. Tate,” Monaghan’s secretary announced.

  Sara headed numbly for the door.

  Monaghan was sitting with his hands flat on his desk, a grim expression on his face. “Sit,” he demanded. “Let me get straight to the point. What you did yesterday was one of the most wasteful, egocentric, self-interested displays of power I’ve ever seen here in my seventeen years of prosecuting.”

  “I can explain.”

  “Explain?!” Monaghan hissed. “You killed one of my men! Conrad is dead!”

  “Sir, I never meant—”

  “It doesn’t matter what you meant! I’m not interested in your intent. All I care about is the fact that he’s dead. And not only is he dead, he’s dead for a stupid reason—because as a self-absorbed neophyte, you were raring to pull off your own stunt!”

  “But the circumstances—”

  “I don’t want to hear about the circumstances! I know you and your husband were both in danger. But if you had communicated your problem directly to me, we could’ve worked out a sensible solution. Instead, I have to deal with every reporter in the entire city, all of them wondering why I didn’t know what was happening inside my own damn office. Do you know what that does to me? Oh, no, you didn’t have time to think of that. Besides yourself, you didn’t consider anybody. You didn’t consider this office, you didn’t consider me, and you didn’t consider your buddy, Conrad, who you obviously cared nothing about.”

  Sara shot from her seat and slammed her fists against Monaghan’s desk. “Don’t you ever say that! That man was my friend! When you were ready to kick me out on my ass, he took me in for no good reason. And for better or worse, he trusted me with his life. So you can call me stupid, and inexperienced, and a
n incompetent novice, but don’t ever, ever, tell me that I didn’t care about him! He’s the only reason I’m still in this office.”

  “Then maybe you should take the hint and consider leaving.”

  “Believe me, I was thinking about that all last night. There’d be nothing easier than for me to leave this place. I’d love to pack up my stuff, walk out that door, and wash my hands of the entire incident. Out of sight, out of mind—after this, I could leave the law behind in a heartbeat. But let me tell you: I’d never do that to him. He’s going to get far better than that. Every day I step into my office, though, it’s going to haunt me. Every day. I’m going to have to live with this for the rest of my life. But it’s going to be worth every minute—because that man deserves a legacy.”

  Monaghan leaned back and crossed his arms, giving Sara a chance to calm down. “Tate, I hope the sermon made you feel good, because now it’s time to listen to me. First, I don’t give a shit about your whiny psychological consequences. This isn’t a Ph.D. program, it’s the DA’s office. And I’m the fucking DA! Do you understand? I don’t care that you saved yourself, or saved your husband, or caught the bad guy. I don’t even care that those two officers are stabilized. And you want to know why? Because my man is dead! Period! End! That alone gives me the best reason to fire you!”

  “If you want to fire me, fire me. I’m not quitting.”

  “Tate, get your ass up and get yourself out of my office. I don’t want to see you, I don’t want to know about you, and the only thing I want to hear about you is that the local news crews ate up your little fluff piece with the mayor.”

  “What’re you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about what you’re going to be doing this afternoon. Lucky for you, the mayor’s staff decided to make the most of it. He called me the moment the story broke last night: Wife ADA risks life and breaks rules to save defense-attorney husband. You couldn’t write a better headline. So get to the hospital and practice your smile. The mayor’ll be there at noon. He figures New Yorkers are going to feast on this.”