Kitty took a couple of wary steps backwards, not thinking of anything except how the light from the setting sun glinted off the silvery gun. Her brain told her that it was probably time to put some lamps on, a random, useless thought that kept her from thinking about much else.
"I'm probably not going to shoot you. I just need to make sure you listen to me. Sit down."
Kitty felt her way to the sofa, not turning away from the gun and the person holding it. Such an incongruent pairing – the small, neat, silver gun and the grandmotherly look of its owner.
"Rachael, you don't have to do this," Kitty said, doing as ordered and sitting down. The sudden shot of adrenaline through her body had her heart racing and her stomach churning.
"You took everything from me," the woman said, her voice steadier than Kitty would have expected. She sat down on the sofa opposite Kitty, resting the hand with the gun on her knee.
"I don't understand." Kitty had some sense that it was better to keep talking – wasn't that what they always did on the cop shows? Keep the gunman – or woman – talking? Only this time Kitty had no idea what that would achieve. Keep her talking until what? She saw sense? The one person who might rescue her had already made his intentions for the night clear.
"You took Andrew away from his children. You took Miranda away. And now you've taken our livelihood away. I really don't understand what I ever did to you, to make you destroy my life like this."
Again, Kitty was struck by the fact that although Rachael's words were impassioned, her tone was calm, flat.
"Rachael, I . . ." Kitty trailed off. What should she do? Agree with the mad woman with the gun? Or defend herself? One of the things she'd said didn't make sense. "Livelihood?"
"Yes. Now that Andrew's fortune has all gone to that bastard son of his, I've got nothing left. Barely enough to live on." Rachael's voice finally started matching the vitriol of her words. She practically spat the word "bastard".
"Greg has inherited all of Andrew's fortune?" Kitty asked, confused.
"Don't pretend you didn't know. After what Miranda did, Andrew's entire estate now goes to him. And I'm sure you've found a way to tie him to you, so you can bleed him of everything he has, just like you've done to everyone else in this family."
Kitty shook her head. "I didn't know." Why hadn't he told her?
"Andrew was my husband," Rachael said vehemently.
Kitty noticed the gun in her hand had begun to shake. She wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.
"He was my husband and my children's father. I know I should never have strayed, but I learned my lesson. He didn't need to take revenge. And then he went and showered his love on a bastard son he rarely saw and spent his money on a substitute daughter who was no better than a whore."
Kitty felt the adrenaline in her system give another surge, this time in anger. "Andrew told me about your family. About how after he had an affair you tried to control his life. About how little love there was in your family; no love for each other, just love for money and power and control over others."
"You have no right—"
Both Kitty and Rachael spun to face the door as they heard it open with a rush. Since Rachael had arrived, the sun had set and the apartment was dim. The lights in the building's hallway had come on and neither of them could see who stood in the doorway; just a large, male shadow.
The shadow stepped inside and closed the door.
"Mother." Denis Barnes shook his head in rebuke. "I told you not to come here."
"Denis! This is nothing to do with you. Let me take care of things." Rachael sounded like a mother scolding a wayward teenage son.
Denis turned to Kitty. "I'm very sorry." He shrugged. "I'm sure you regret the day my father met you."
"If she doesn't now, she soon will," Rachael said threateningly.
"Mother, we both know that you have no intention of shooting Kitty. Let's stop all this now before it goes too far." Denis stepped closer to his mother and held out a hand.
Rachael's mouth quivered and Kitty saw the woman's desperation and grief struggling for release. She lifted the gun, and Kitty wasn't sure if she was going to hand it to Denis or shoot her. Kitty swallowed hard, her fear a solid lump in her throat.
When the door opened again, this time slamming back against the wall, it seemed to Kitty like time miraculously ground to a crawl.
House's unmistakably tall frame stepped from the brightly lit corridor into the dim apartment. "I got those Malaysian noodles you—" His voice was loud and full of cheer until he broke off suddenly.
Rachael leapt up, her hand rising.
Denis took a step forward, his arm reaching out. "No!"
And then the bang.
Funny, Kitty thought, it didn't sound at all like it did on the movies. Loud, but kind of flat.
Kitty fell back in the sofa, a weight against the side of her body. For a moment of pure panic she clasped her hands around herself, desperate. Wet warmth began seeping into the jeans she was wearing. And then she realised. The weight was from Denis. And so was the blood.
Rachael had shot her own son.
He'd fallen on Kitty and was bleeding. And groaning. He wasn't dead. There was another noise in the room, but Kitty couldn't process it.
"Fuck." The exclamation came from the doorway, followed by the thump of takeout bags hitting the floor.
"Greg, help me." Kitty tried to push Denis off her, but his weight was too much. A moment later House was by her side, pulling the other man until he slumped onto the floor.
"Are you all right? Where—" House began frantically searching her leg, looking for the bullet hole.
"No, no, it's not . . . It's Denis's . . . his blood," Kitty stammered.
"Thank God," House muttered, pausing only a moment to look at her and press his blood-stained hand to her cheek. He then quickly turned his attentions to the man moaning on the floor. "Turn some lights on and call 911," he said, ripping his cell phone from his pocket and throwing it at Kitty. Too stunned to do anything else, Kitty reached for the lamp and switched it with one hand, while the trembling fingers of her other found the keys on the phone.
"I need the police and an ambulance. Someone's been shot," Kitty said, amazed her voice actually worked. As she spoke she became aware of another noise in the room. The high, keening sound of Rachael.
"I shot my son, I shot my son," she wailed.
Kitty gave the operator her address automatically, unable to tear her eyes away from watching as House examined Denis.
"Get me something to stop the bleeding," he ordered. "A towel, a sheet, something."
Kitty just stood there, watching in horrified fascination.
"Kitty! Now!"
His barked command seemed to bring Kitty out of her spell. She finished up the call with the 911 operator, who assured her help was moments away, and then hurried over to the cabinet where she kept all her clean linen. She grabbed a couple of towels and handed them to House.
"It's a clean wound, the bullet went through his shoulder," House said, as he put one towel underneath and pressed the other into the top of Denis's left shoulder. "As long as we can contain the bleeding and get him to hospital soon, he'll be fine."
Kitty nodded, her breath coming fast, her pulse still pounding in her ears. Not sure what to do, she turned and looked around the room, almost surprised to find Rachael still there. Denis's blood everywhere had almost been enough to make her forget what had caused it in the first place.
She walked over to where the older woman stood, the gun still gripped in her hand, her eyes wide and horrified as she looked at her son lying on the floor. For some reason the panic and distress Kitty could see in Rachael's eyes calmed her own panic a little. "Rachael?" Kitty said, putting a hand on her arm. "Put the gun down. He's going to be okay."
Rachael's body seemed to sag and the gun slipped from her hand, bouncing off the carpet and landing under the coffee table. Kitty didn't bother touching it further. She pressed on Rachael's shoulder and the woman collapsed onto the sofa, her hands coming up to clasp, prayer-like, under her chin.
"I shot my son, I shot my son," she repeated.
Kitty sat down and put an arm around her, trying to calm her down. "It's okay, he's going to be okay. Everything will be okay."
-
-
When the police arrived a few minutes later, the scene had barely changed. Kitty held Rachael, who'd begun to rock back and forth and was still repeating her guilty chant. House was on the floor with Denis, pushing down hard on his shoulder in an attempt to stem the bleeding from the gunshot wound. Denis was conscious, but not talking, just letting out an occasional guttural moan.
Kitty told the police who walked in through the open door where the gun was resting, and as soon as one of the cops had picked it up, removed the ammunition, and sealed it in an evidence bag, the tension in the room dropped markedly.
The paramedics arrived only moments later and House stepped back to let them take over Denis's care, just as Kitty stepped back from Rachael as the police took her into custody.
After that, events moved swiftly. The police got a brief explanation of events from both Kitty and House and warned them that they'd be required to give formal statements. They'd wanted to take them to the station straight away, but House had protested and they'd seemed to either take pity or just see that it would be easier to give in to his demands. He also commandeered the paramedics' spare blood pressure cuff, making Kitty sit down so he could check her out while the police did their final inspections of the apartment.
"How do you feel?" he asked once they were alone again.
"Shaky and faint," Kitty answered, her voice weak.
"Lie down." He pushed her so she lay flat on the sofa.
"I felt fine before, it's just hitting me now."
House nodded. "The adrenaline kept you going. Now you're probably in shock."
"Yeah, probably," Kitty repeated.
House said on the edge of the couch next to her. He checked the pulse in her throat and sighed. "We should probably take you to the hospital. Monitor you there," he said. "I'll get the cops to call us another ambulance."
"No," Kitty protested, struggling to sit up.
House pushed her back down again with a fierce look. "Stay."
"I don't want to go to hospital," Kitty said, her voice whiny enough to do a teenage girl proud. "I'll be fine."
"You're covered in blood," House pointed out.
"It's not mine and so are you," she countered, grabbing his hands and holding them up to show the blood crusting around his fingernails.
He shook his head, giving her a faint smile. His finger traced her face and Kitty trailed where he'd touched her, realising there was dried blood there from when he'd pressed her cheek right after Denis had fallen on her.
"So if we clean up here, maybe we should go back to my place?" he suggested, raising an eyebrow. "Seeing as life in this apartment seems to be a little too exciting?"
"And we could get some more Malaysian noodles on the way?" Kitty asked, her bottom lip beginning to tremble.
"Sure." House gave her a grim smile.
-
A/N: Penultimate chapter! Just a small chapter to come, to tie up a few things. Will post it soon. Thanks again everyone, for all your lovely comments on this, my first foray into crime drama (well sort of!). Every review really means a lot.