More Than Luck

By: Kadi

Rated: M

Chapter 14

There was only a single officer on the door tonight. He noticed that when he walked past, carrying his trash toward the chute. It wasn't one of the plain clothes guards. This one was uniformed. Rusty wasn't home. That meant it was only her. Sharon was home alone, unless her Lieutenant was with her. He dropped the bag down the chute and walked back the way that he had come. When he was past Sharon's condo, he kept going, around the corner, further down the hall. Then he slipped out the emergency exit and down the stairs, back to the ninth floor. To the condo he was residing in at present.

He moved quickly through his rooms, to gaze out the window at the cars parked below. He did not see a familiar sedan. That might not mean anything. He left the condo and headed downstairs. He would do a circuit around the building, see if he spotted Andy's car. The Lieutenant was a creature of habit, he always parked in the same place.

While on his stroll, he noted the patrol car. It was just the one tonight, and only the single officer. That was going to be fortunate. The Lieutenant was also not around. It was going to be a good night.

He was smiling as he walked back to the building. All of his planning, his patience, had finally paid off. Glee filled him, making him almost giddy as he rode the elevator back upstairs. He had to force himself to calm while he gathered his things. Energy was coursing through him, and he almost panted with it. After tonight he would be one step closer. One step closer to having his life back.

He gathered his bag and drew it over his shoulder. It was just a laptop case, completely inconspicuous looking. Smiling, he walked back up the stairs to the eleventh floor. He let himself in through the stairwell entry and took several deep breaths to calm himself. Now that the moment was at hand, his heart was fluttering wildly. He ran a hand over his face, through his hair. He smoothed down his clothing and breathed slowly, settling himself.

He was ready.

He walked down the hall, around the corner and nodded to the patrol officer watching the Captain's door. The officer nodded back, looking bored. Another resident. Just another resident walking past. He smiled when his back was to the officer. Then he turned, so quickly that the young man was jerking on the floor before he realized there was a taser in his hand. He held it, for several moments until the officer stopped jerking. When he didn't move, he bent over him to check. Still alive. Well, the officer wasn't really who he wanted anyway. He needed to move quickly, though. So he knelt with his bag and opened it. Duct tape, around his wrists, feet, and mouth. Then he grabbed him beneath his arms and began dragging him. It was harder than he thought it would be, and he grunted with the effort. Beads of sweat broke out across his brow. He huffed and he heaved, swore quietly, but he pulled the unconscious officer down the hall and around the corner. He tucked him into the rarely used stairwell, out of the way.

After wiping his brow, he walked back down the hall and retrieved his bag. He listened at the door. The condo sounded quiet. He knelt in front of the door and reached into his bag, pulling out the lock tools. He had practiced this on his own door a number of times. It was one of the reasons he had sublet in the building. It put him close to Rusty, close to keeping an eye on the people who had ruined his life.

That was why he was able to slip the tools in so quietly. It only took two turns, a simple twist, and the first lock was open. He moved to the second, harder lock, the deadbolt. That was a little more difficult, but he managed it after only a few seconds. If this condo was just like his, then there was also a chain. He eased the door open slowly, and smiled. The Captain did not disappoint him. He took the small cutters out of his bag and reached up, easily dispatching the chain. It made more noise than he liked, but with the door cracked open, he could hear the strains of classical playing inside.

He exhaled when he was inside. His heart fluttered again. He could feel the anticipation curling in his stomach. He put his bag down and reached inside it one final time. He took out the gun. Then he started down the hall.

He might have made more noise than he intended. His eyes widened with the Captain stepped out of what he gathered must be her room, given it was the location of the music. His palm itched. The muscles in his arm strained and twitched where he held the gun, pointed directly at her. He drew a breath, smiled slightly. She had called out, thinking he was her Lieutenant.

"I'm not Andy. Hello, Sharon. I told you I was coming…" He smiled at her, in her bare feet, hair pinned up in a clip, with her sweater and leggings, she didn't seem quite so imposing.

Sharon drew a breath. She stared down the barrel of the gun, over the hand holding it. "Douglas Grand."

He was not at all who they expected. On their list of subjects they had focused on those who had a connection to Stroh, people that might have had reason to put Rusty out of the way, to stop his testimony. It never occurred to anyone that it would be the other witness. The man with Rusty in the park the night he saw Stroh burying the body. Yes, she thought now, she supposed Grand might have very good reason to stop Rusty testifying. Since he was also subpoena to corroborate the events of that night. Grand put Rusty in the park. Rusty put Stroh there. Rusty tied everything together, but Grand was a very important piece of that. Sharon thought that certain offers had been made to secure Grand's testimony, and so no one had thought to look into him when they began receiving the letters.

It was a mistake. Obviously.

"Yes," Douglas smiled. There was madness behind his eyes. "That boy ruined my life. Your chief, that woman. That… she promised me that I wouldn't have to tell anyone why I was there. All I had to do was find Rusty. Give Rusty to the police, and I was done. It was over. But that didn't happen, did it? I got charged with solicitation. My wife found out. She took my kids. I lost my job. Then I get told that I have to testify? I have to tell everyone what I was doing in that park, and how I knew that Rusty was the witness. My whole life! It all went away. I lost everything!"

Sharon swallowed hard. She stepped back, just an inch. He jerked the gun up and she stopped. "You did. I understand," she said quietly. "But none of this was Rusty's doing. He's just a boy…"

"He told me he was eighteen!" Douglas shook the gun at her. "Legal! He wasn't supposed to be a boy!" He pointed at her with his other hand. "I could have handled Rusty. I could have scared him. He doesn't do well with pressure. He wouldn't have testified, except there was this one little problem. You." He glowered at her, eyes dark, chest rising and falling. He was working himself into a state. He tried to calm down, but now standing in front of her, his anger grew. "You just couldn't get out of the way could you? You couldn't leave well enough alone. It wasn't bad enough that you have to go meddling around at work, now you're meddling with my life. You had to screw everything up. You wouldn't leave Rusty alone. You just had to hold on to him."

"He's a child," Sharon glanced around them. The hall was small, confined. Her gun was already in the bedside table, where she kept it when at home. The bedroom door was just behind her. There was room enough, she thought, between the door and the dresser, that she might avoid a bullet if she made that move. It was the only chance. Otherwise it was over. She had already inched back, moving by small degrees to avoid being struck in the face as he gestured with the gun toward her. Sharon reached out, slowly, until her fingers brushed the cool wood of the door frame.

"He deserved a stable home," she continued speaking. "Fear ruled his life long enough. Rusty shouldn't be held accountable for the mistakes of others."

"No." Douglas smiled at her. "No, maybe he shouldn't. But Rusty isn't going to be your problem anymore."

Sharon grabbed the door frame and used it to pull herself into the room. Her ears rang with the sound of the gunshot. The bullet struck the opposite side of the door, causing wood to splinter. Sharon's feet slipped against the bare, hardwood, her knee struck the corner of the dresser when she propelled into it. She saw stars but reached for the lamp, and twisted when Douglas lunged into the room behind her. She aimed it at his gun hand, striking hard. The gun clattered out of his hand, and slid across the floor toward the bathroom door.

She lunged toward the bed and Douglas roared, he lunged for her. They both landed hard, just shy of her goal. His hands clawed, grasped painfully at her. Sharon kicked him. She swung her feet hard, striking his chest, his stomach, anything she could land a blow against. She drug her hands against the floor, pulling herself toward the bed and the table beside it. Her foot landed against his face and she felt something crunch. Douglas howled.

Sharon's fingers brushed the cool, bras fittings of the drawer. They only barely curled around it and she jerked, pulling the drawer out, off its runners. It landed, scraping against the hard wood floor. Contents fell out, rolling and scattering, disappearing beneath the bed. The entire table had rocked, threatening to fall over, but landed hard back against the wall and was still. Several items fell from its top, a frame, sending glass shards across the floor as well. Her hand closed around the holster and she rolled onto her back, freeing the gun from it while her thumb slipped off the safety. She saw stars, red, and white hot stars when something sharp lanced through her. She cried out in pain but double tapped her trigger.

Douglas Grand jerked back, the force of the gunshots pushing him to one side. One struck his shoulder, the other lower, right of his chest. The knife in his hand fell to the floor, and he slumped, gurgling and wheezing for air.

Sharon pushed back, sliding further from him, across broken glass. A hand moved to her side and came away stained red. He had managed to cut her, and realization of that brought stinging cuts on her arms and leg into focus as well. He'd had the knife when he lunged for her. Those were superficial, annoying, but not a danger. She kept her eye on Douglas as she felt around, searching for the phone which had been on the bedside table. When she didn't find it, she took her eyes off Douglas to search for it. The phone wasn't readily visible. She slid further away from him and bent, moaning with the effort, and spotted it beneath the bed. It was too far out of her reach.

With the stain on her side quickly spreading, she moved to her knees and rose on shaking legs. The combination of adrenaline and injury made her unsteady. Her knee was throbbing. Her attacker was still wheezing, but he wasn't moving. Sharon limped around him, giving him as wide a berth as the room would allow and moved toward the door. Her arm shook, but she continued to aim the gun at him. When she reached the door, she had to lean against it. The knife had sliced her more deeply than she thought, her head was beginning to spin. Her cell phone was still by the sofa, closer than the phone in the kitchen. Heaving a pain filled sigh, Sharon pushed off the door and started down the hall.