Saving Meghan(114)

At the top of the stairwell, the pace slowed as a crush of bodies jammed the exit to the roof. Becky heard police officers shouting “Put down your weapon! Drop it now!”

“Where is the mother? Get her up here, fast.”

Becky recognized Capshaw’s husky voice as her fatigue fell away, replaced with a renewed resolve to push her way to the top of those stairs.

“I’m her mother,” Becky implored those in front of her. “Please let me through … please.”

The blockade of bodies formed sliver-size gaps through which Becky and Zach pushed their way to the top of the stairs. She emerged into the chilly night, feeling as though she had stepped into a dream. A line of police stretched out in front of her, many with guns drawn, some standing, some kneeling. Powerful flashlights blazed across the rooftop, which was already aglow from the light cast by the many surrounding buildings.

Amanda Nash stood in front of the line of police, close to the building’s edge. She held what Becky believed to be a surgical scalpel against her daughter’s throat. Blood dripped from a gash in Meghan’s neck and from a cut to her arm, visible through a long slice in her sweatshirt.

Pulling free from Zach’s grasp, Becky rushed forward, frantically calling Meghan’s name. Some police turned. Spence and Capshaw waved Becky over to them.

“She’s here,” Spence called out to Nash. “You’ve been asking to see Becky Gerard, and she’s here. Okay? Now, put down your weapon.”

“No!” Nash’s voice was loud and clear even over the steady whapping of an approaching helicopter.

Becky took a tentative step forward, putting a couple of feet between her and the two detectives.

“I’m here, Amanda,” Becky said in a plaintive voice. “Please, please don’t hurt my daughter. Please—”

“She ruined everything!” Amanda shouted. Spit flew from a mouth misshapen in rage.

Meghan’s blank expression showed she was in a near-catatonic state. It took all the restraint Becky could muster not to run to her.

“It wasn’t supposed to end like this!” Nash continued. “She was going to jump. She was supposed to kill herself. Now we’re both going to jump. But I wanted you to watch. I want it to hurt.”

“No!” Becky shrieked as she took a single step forward.

Nash smiled wickedly and pressed the scalpel harder against Meghan’s throat. A spotlight from the hovering helicopter illuminated them like stage lights as the rotors kicked up powerful winds that blew Meghan’s long hair every which way.

“You think I wanted to kill Carl? I loved him! I loved him more than anything.”

Becky dared a few more steps. The police stayed back.

“You don’t have to do this,” Becky said, continuing her approach, holding her hands up to show she was unarmed.

Get her talking, Becky thought. Distract her.

“Carl’s not dead,” Becky said.

Nash’s eyes went wide. “No, that’s … that’s not possible.”

Becky dared another step. “It’s true. Zach saved him, just as he saved me. But Carl still loves you, Amanda. He told me so himself. He confessed to everything, even poisoning Meghan.”

Meghan flinched at the mention of her father’s betrayal, while a strange look crossed Nash’s face.

“You’re lying,” Nash said.

“No, no, I’m telling you the truth. He’s alive. He wants to see you.”

“He didn’t poison Meghan,” Nash said, her expression one of disgust. “You think he’d do that to his own daughter? How stupid are you? You don’t even know him. All you care about is your precious Meghan. And that’s why I’m going to take her from you.” Nash moved backward, positioning her and Meghan closer to the drop-off. She craned her neck to peer over her shoulder, perhaps calculating the number of steps to a fatal plunge.

“No,” Becky said. “Let my daughter live. Please. You don’t have to do this.”

“Stay back,” Nash said.

“Some good can still come from this,” Becky said, moving closer, getting to within five or six giant steps away. Meghan lifted her head so she could lock eyes with her mother as Zach came forward.

“Amanda, please,” Zach said. “There’s another way.”

“You really screwed this up for me, Fisher,” Nash said to Zach. “You just couldn’t let it go. You had to keep pushing for that diagnosis; you just had to keep pushing. Well, now you and Becky can have a happy life together, mourning your dead kids.” Nash took another step back, taking Meghan with her.

One more step, one lean too far, and they’d both be gone.

The air stilled. The persistent whap-whap-whap of the hovering helicopter seemed to stop. Becky watched in horror as Nash leaned her body back, her toes coming up high enough to reveal the bottoms of her shoes. Meghan leaned backward as well, forced to follow Nash, who kept a tight grip on her. They were going over any second.

As she tilted, Meghan drove her elbow hard into Nash’s stomach. Stunned, Nash let the scalpel fall from her grasp as she stumbled away from the ledge. Police moved forward as a blue wave, piling on Nash before she could scramble for her weapon. But Becky darted forward, her focus on Meghan, who teetered off-balance at the roof’s edge.