Lifeguard

Chapter 110

I HAD SCREWED UP things like the complete amateur I was. The thought that Stratton would get away after murdering Mickey, Dave, his own wife, was killing me more than anything else.

“Don’t be so glum, Ned,” Stratton said expansively. “We’re both going on a trip. Unfortunately, yours will be a little shorter.”

He shot a glance at the chopper’s progress and motioned me along the roof with a wave of his gun. I didn’t want to give in to him, to give him the satisfaction of seeing me afraid – but I knew my only chance was to go along. The FBI was in the building. Someone had to be up there soon. Just wait him out somehow.

There was a narrow stone ledge in front of me, all that separated us from a six-story drop.

“Come on, Mr. Kelly,” Stratton said with derision in his voice. “Time to take your big bow. This is how you’ll be remembered.”

The wind kicked up and now I was starting to get really scared. Stratton’s helicopter was executing a narrowing circle, angling in toward the roof. The lights of Palm Beach stretched out before me.

Stratton stood five feet behind me. His gun was pointed at my back. “How does it feel, Ned – knowing you’ll be dead while I’ll be sipping mai-tais in Costa Rica, reading over that fancy nonextradition treaty? Almost doesn’t seem fair, does it?”

“Go to hell, Stratton.”

I heard the chilling click of his gun.

I clenched my fists. No way. No way you’re going over for him. If he wanted to kill me he’d have to pull the trigger. If he could.

“Come on, Neddie-boy, be a man.” Stratton moved in closer. The deafening thwack-thwak of the chopper echoed against the hotel walls. I heard Stratton’s voice, mocking me; “If it makes you feel any better, Ned, with the kind of clout I have, I would’ve beaten it in court, anyway.”

He took a step closer. Don’t make it easy on him, Ned.

Now…!

I clenched my fists and was about to spin, when I heard a voice shouted above the copter’s roar.

Ellie’s voice.

“Stratton!”

Chapter 111

WE BOTH TURNED. Ellie was about twenty feet away, partly hidden by the glare of lights on the roof. She had her arms extended in a firing stance.

“You’re going to put the gun down, Stratton. Now. Then I want you to move away from Ned. Otherwise, I’ll put a bullet in your head. So help me God.”

Stratton paused. He still had the gun pointed at me. A stream of sweat started to trickle down my temples.

Man, I stood perfectly still. I knew he wanted to kill me. All he had to do was nudge me and I’d go over the edge.

He glanced sideways at the ’copter. It was hovering about thirty feet above. A side door opened and someone threw down a rope ladder.

“I don’t think so,” he shouted to Ellie. He grabbed me by the back of the collar and jammed the gun against my head. “I don’t think you want your boyfriend to take a bad spill. Anyway, Ellie, you’re an art investigator. I doubt you could put a bullet in The Last Supper if they stretched it out on the side of a barn.”

“I said put the gun down, Stratton.”

“I’m afraid I’m the one giving the orders,” Stratton said, shaking his head. “And what we’re going to do now is make our way over to that ladder. You’re going to let us, because it’s the only chance you have of keeping him alive. And while all this is happening, I want you to be very careful, Ellie, very careful, that no one in the ’copter up there takes a shot at you.”

“Ellie, get back!” I shouted.

“He’s not going anywhere,” Ellie said. “The second you move a foot away from him – for any reason – I’m going to blow his head off. And, Stratton, just so you know – MFA and all – I could put a bullet through a disciple’s eye on The Last Supper from this distance.”

For the first time I felt Stratton become nervous. He glanced around, evaluating how he was going to pull this off.

“This way, Ned,” he barked in my ear, the gun pressed into my skull, “and don’t do anything foolish. Your best chance is to let me get to that rope.”

We took two steps back, skirting along the ledge. The chopper was veering in closer, the roar deafening, dangling the ladder about ten feet above our heads.

I was looking at Ellie, trying to read in her eyes what she wanted me to do. I could try to barrel into him. Give Ellie some firing room. But we were really close to the ledge.

Stratton had his gaze fixed on the swaying ladder. It was only a few feet out of his grasp.

“Ellie,” I said, looking at her, thinking, God, I hope you get what I’m doing now.

I edged a step to the left, and Stratton had to move, too. Suddenly he was in the beam of one of the powerful floods. He grabbed for the ladder, now only inches away.

“Ellie, now!”

I pushed him, and Stratton spun, gun extended, blinded in the full glare of the floodlight. He screamed, “Aagh…!”

Ellie fired! An orange spark in the night. A thud in Stratton’s chest. Ya! Stratton staggered back, the impact jerking him close to the ledge. He teetered for a second, looking down. Then somehow he caught himself and reached. The ladder seemed to find him, his fingers desperately wrapping around the lowest rung.

The chopper lifted away.

Stratton swayed there for a second. Then miraculously, he began to hold on. There was a smirking grin on his face, like, See, Ned, I told you, didn’t I? He raised his free arm. I was so mesmerized by what had happened, I almost didn’t see what was happening.

He was leveling his gun at me. The bastard was going to kill me after all.

A shot rang out. Stratton’s white tuxedo shirt exploded into bright red. His gun fell away. Then his fingers slipped, grasping frantically for rope, clutching only darkness.

Stratton fell. His garbled, frantic scream faded into the night. I hate to admit it, but I liked that scream a lot.

I ran to the ledge. Stratton had come to rest on his back in the parking circle at the hotel’s front entrance. A crowd of people in tuxedos and hotel uniforms rushed over to him.

I looked back at Ellie. I couldn’t tell if she was all right. She was sort of frozen there, her arms extended. “Ellie, you okay?”

She nodded blankly. “I never killed anyone before.”

I wrapped my good arm around her and felt her gently sink into my chest. For a second we just stayed motionless on the Breakers’ roof. We didn’t say a word. We just swayed there, like, oh, I don’t know like what, like nothing most people ever get to experience, I guess.

“You changed the deal on me, Ned. You son of a bitch.”

“I know.” I held her close. “I’m sorry.”

“I love you,” she said.

“I love you, too,” I replied.

We sort of rocked there for another second in the suddenly quiet night. Then Ellie said softly, “You’re going to jail, Ned. A deal’s a deal.”

I wiped a tear off her cheek. “I know.”