She knew he was watching her from his position on the other side of the store, trying to guess what she might do and anticipating what he would have to do to counter her, and she took comfort in the return to the norm that the competition represented. Any other day she might have found it strange that she could tell so easily what he was thinking; after all, it had taken her so long to figure out that he wasn't even on her side as he had lead her to believe, but he seemed to have let his defences drop ever so slightly, and as such was much easier to read. She doubted that it was a conscious move on his part, but she had no intention of telling him what he was doing – why should she let him know that his advantage was slipping? They were still rivals after all.
She had seen the surprise on his face earlier when, after she had cried her fill and wiped the tears from her eyes, she had crossed her arms defiantly over her chest and told him in no uncertain terms that if he so much as thought of going easy on her today due to her 'difficult circumstances' then she would make him wish he'd never been born. She'd told him firmly that no matter what else was happening in her life, this was her calling and nothing was going to prevent her from doing her damndest to make sure John Bostock lived. She didn't need him taking pity on her and slacking off.
He'd stared at her blankly for a moment, then that wry half smile she knew so well had appeared and he'd told her in the faux innocent tone he used so frequently when baiting her, that he'd never had any intention of doing so. Just because she was feeling a bit fragile right now, that didn't mean he'd suddenly come around to her way of thinking. If he had his way, Mr Bostock would be under the tender care of Davis before midday.
She'd almost laughed when he'd then turned to leave with a decided bounce in his step, calling out that he'd see her at Masons just as he closed the door behind him. It was bizarrely pleasing to find that despite his unusual behaviour of late, he was still the same Jack that she knew and…didn't hate any more.
She was actually grinning as she grabbed a jacket, racing out after him, determined that today was not going to be his day.
And now here she stood, trying to look engrossed in the extortionately priced items lining the shelves while trying to surreptitiously monitor both the entrance and the other patrons. It wasn't very long before she noticed John making his entrance with a group of friends – they were a rather conspicuous bunch, laughing and jeering as one of their number tripped an elderly lady who went to walk past them out of the store. Actually, from their rowdy behaviour and thuggish appearance, if Tru hadn't known one of them to be the victim today, she would have put money on it being them who held up the place.
As if reading her thoughts, which with him was entirely possible, Jack appeared at her side, his eyes following her line of sight. "You know what I've noticed?" he began conversationally, not waiting for an answer before he continued, "A well dressed guy is practically faceless."
Tru turned to look at him, one eyebrow raised. "What are you talking about?" she asked, puzzled by his seeming non-sequitor.
"Think about it." He nodded towards John and his group "those guys stand out, you notice them. You'll remember what they look like because they draw attention to themselves with how they dress, how they act. That guy though," he gestured towards a middle aged man browsing through the magazine rack "he's in a suit, the same suit you see a thousand other people wearing. His hair's neat and his shoes don't squeak. That's all you notice about him, and most people will have forgotten all about him within a few minutes."
"Are you going somewhere with this?" Tru inquired suspiciously, unsure whether he was trying to be helpful or simply distracting her from her purpose. Both would be annoying and she knew that with him it could be either, or possibly even a little of both.
"No," he shook his head "just saying is all."
Tru was about to comment that he was never 'just saying' anything, but then she noticed his gaze wonder from her towards the cash register. She knew he wanted her to look, so that was probably the last thing she should do…unless he was bluffing, trying to throw her off…
With a frustrated sigh, she turned and saw the very same man from the magazine rack calmly telling the cashier to empty the takings of the till into the brown paper bag he held his left hand. The right hand, unsurprisingly, held a gun. Tru was puzzled by the scene playing out before her, wondering how exactly John had managed to get himself shot. The robber seemed quite calm, even talking politely to the cashier he held at gunpoint and asking the petrified teenaged girl who had been standing behind him in the queue if she would like to take a seat since she'd gone so frighteningly pale. He didn't seem like the type to shoot anyone, as if the gun was more for intimidation value than for actual use. In fact, the majority of the customers in the store seemed more curious than frightened.
"Here we go." Jack whispered by her ear, and Tru instinctively turned her head to glace back to John and his friends. At first she had no idea what Jack had meant, but then she saw it. Slowly, as if trying not to draw attention to himself, John was shuffling forward towards the cash register.
He was either attempting to benefit from the situation by taking the opportunity to steal something that would go unnoticed in the confusion, or he was about to do something even more stupid and try to tackle the robber. Though he didn't exactly look like the have-a-go-hero type, Tru's money was on the latter. It certainly seemed the more dangerous option and as such, more likely to get him killed.
She was about to try and draw the robber's attention by playing the terrified hostage card and screaming hysterically, thus reducing John's chances of being spotted, but at that moment, John happened to glance in her direction and the scream died in her throat, a horrified gasp coming out in it's place. When he looked at her, she didn't see the face of a man barely out of his teens, the man who had asked for her help only hours before. Instead, she saw the sneering visage of a man who had been burned into her memory, taunting her in her dreams and her waking hours. She saw the face of the last man whom she had tried to save…and she saw what he had done to her.
She was frozen to the spot, unable to move, unable even to scream as the robber turned, alerted by the fleeting look the cashier had thrown in John's direction upon noticing his intent. She could only watch as he levelled his gun at the startled youth, and without so much as blinking fired a single shot through his heart. The blast rockedthe unfortunaterecipientof his feet, sending him flying intothe wall ofglass refrigerators, smashing them on impact. The lifeless body of John Bostock slid down to the ground, his head falling back and landing with a wet 'thunk' on top of the large pile of broken bottles that now covered the floor around him.
The robber looked at his handy work dispassionately, then picked up his bag now full of money, and walked calmly out of the store as if he'd just bought a packet of cigarettes rather than murdered a man in cold blood.
"What the hell was that Tru?" Jack muttered, unable to tear his eyes from the lifeless body. It was hardly the first he had seen, but it was by far the most surprising. He hadn't actually intended on stopping Tru today, despite what he had told her earlier. He would have made the token gestures to make her think he had of course, but he would have let her take this victory quite willingly, if only to help rebuild her shattered self-esteem. But she had just stood there, not moving a muscle to alter fate. Tru however, didn't appear to hear him. Instead, she slowly walked towards John with unsteady steps, pushing her way past his dumbstruck friends who seemed too frozen with shock to protest. Jack followed after her, still wondering what the hell was going on.
"Tru!" he cried, unable to move quickly enough to stop her when she suddenly dropped to her knees beside the body, landing on the shattered glass that surrounded it. She didn't seem to feel the shards pressing into her flesh as she leaned forward, reaching out to take a pulse with shaking hands.
Naturally, she found none. Pulling her hand away as if it were burned, she then stared fixedly at the dead man's blood that now stained it "I…I killed him." She stammered. "I killed him."
"This is bad." Jack mumbled to himself rather obviously, watching helplessly as she began to shake, heaving sobs wracking her small frame once more. When he heard the distant sound of approaching sirens, it was instinct to pull Tru to her feet, scooping her effortlessly into his arms when he saw she was in no fit state to walk – either physically or mentally. "Come on Tru," he told her quietly, though he had a feeling she wasn't aware of much of anything right now, "we're getting out of here."
Davis was going through inventory on the computer in his office when he thought he heard the soft creak of the swinging doors that granted admission to the morgue. "Hello?" he called "Anyone there?" When he received no reply, he shrugged and turned back to his work, quite used to the strange noises the building made and thus not particularly concerned.
It was a minute later when he heard another noise, though this one was much quieter, and more of a soft 'plop' or 'splash' kind of sound. His brow furrowed – that was a new one to him. He glanced up from his screen, about to peer out into standards to try and see if someone had snuck in to play trick on him. He gasped when he instead saw none other than a very pale Jack Harper standing in the doorway to his office, his once blue shirt now soaked in a deep red blood, drops of which were falling from hands that hung limply at his sides, to land on the floor with the now identified 'plop' sound.
"Jack?" Davis spoke cautiously, unsettled by the wild look of panic in the other man's eyes, his face seemingly etched in shock.
"You have to help her." Jack told him bluntly, his voice dry and hoarse as if he were speaking around a lump in his throat. "There are medical supplies here…I didn't know where else to go…this was the nearest place."
"Jack, what's going on?" Davis shook his head, baffled by the confused ramblings of the usually cool and assured 'death'. He had seemed his usual obnoxious self during his brief visit last night, and Davis had to wonder what had changed in that time. "Who are you talking about, who do I have to help?"
"Tru!" Jack shouted, making Davis jump at the unexpectedly sharp reply. He'd never actually seen Jack this upset before. Even more surprisingly, to Davis at least, he was sure he heard Jack's voice crack with emotion when he continued. "You have to help Tru."
TBC...