Shattered Mirror (Eve Duncan #23)(109)

“I agree, not so amazing.” And not so amazing that Jock had known where to go for any weapon in the world’s deadliest arsenal. “Well, I’m glad it turned out a success since I was the experiment.”

“It wasn’t an easy decision for any of us,” Darcy said quietly. “Jock didn’t see any other choice. I’ve never seen him scared before, Cara. He was scared when he asked Kaskov to go get that grenade.”

She nodded soberly. “And I’m grateful that he did. I’m grateful that you were all there for me. I thought it was the end, Darcy.”

Darcy shook her head. “No one was willing to give up on you or Michael.” She added grimly as she increased her pace through the swamp, “And Norwalk isn’t going to be allowed to take one more life, Cara.”

*

“Cara’s safe!” Joe ran back to where Eve was standing. “But Jock says Norwalk may be on his way back. We have to get Michael out now. You know what to do.”

She nodded, her heart pounding. Her hand tightened on her rifle as she moved forward out of the darkness to stand just to the rear of the cypress tree across the bayou from the dock. “You’re going to take out that other man on the west bank. Then you blow up the shack as a distraction, and I cover that Macvey man Norwalk assigned to watch Michael. If he turns on Michael when the shack blows, I shoot him.”

“Right. Ten minutes.” Joe was gone.

Eve drew a deep breath as she gazed out over the shallow waters of the bayou that separated the island from the swamp where she stood. Michael was sitting on the dock, still in his soccer uniform, which was dirty and torn, his face bruised, his hair tousled. Yet he was calmly sitting there, his arms linked over his knees, as he stared into darkness.

He knew she was there, watching him. She could feel it. But he was not making any sign that would alert Macvey, who was only a few yards from him with his rifle in hand. Not that Macvey appeared to be particularly alert at all, she noticed. No one would consider a six-year-old boy a threat, would they? Fair game to shoot or throw to those alligators, she thought bitterly.

Soon, Michael. You’ll be safe soon.

Warmth. Serenity. Love.

Four minutes.

Six minutes.

Seven.

Everything appeared to be still and perfectly normal on the island. But Joe was very good, and that did not surprise her. He should have taken the sentry out by now. He might have even—

Kaboom!

The shack blew up! Wood speared the sky, flames climbed to catch fire on the branches of the surrounding trees.

Her rifle was trained on Macvey. But he never even looked at Michael as he started running up the incline toward the burning shack.

Yes.

Michael was alone on the dock.

Not for long.

She was wading across the bayou, her rifle held above the chest-high water. She could see Michael jumping to his feet, his eyes widening with excitement as he ran toward her. She glanced up the hill and saw that Macvey had almost reached the burning shack.

And Joe was moving toward him from behind.

Then she was on the dock, kneeling, her arms holding her son.

“Mama.” He buried his face in her neck, and she could feel his warm tears. He whispered, “I’d like to go home now, please.”

“Right away.” She pushed him away from her. “Not quite done. I’m going to carry you across this little bayou to that pretty cypress tree, and then we’ll—”

“Step away from him, Eve.”

She froze. She didn’t have to turn around to know who was behind her. She knew that voice, it had echoed in her mind and every nightmare she’d had since he’d appeared in her life. “I won’t do that, Norwalk. I’m never going to leave my son again while you’re alive.”

“Then I’ll shoot right through you.”

And he would do it.

She looked into Michael’s eyes. “I’m going to stand up, and I want you to get behind me. Don’t be afraid.”

“I’m not afraid. Why should I be?” He smiled at her. “It’s our time to go home.” He paused. “And it’s his time to go away.”

“Get away from him,” Norwalk said. “I have to see your face. But first put down that rifle.”

She gave Michael a kiss on the tip of his nose. “I think it’s time you took a swim to the other bank,” she whispered. “The cypress tree. On Go.” Then she got to her feet, put the rifle down, and turned around. Norwalk was standing on the bank over twenty feet away. He was dirty, his face pale and racked with pain. He was pointing a Magnum revolver at her with his left hand. His right hand was clumsily wrapped in some kind of cloth and bathed in blood. “Hello, Norwalk. You kept telling me what a mastermind you are, but you don’t seem to be doing so well tonight.”

His eyes were staring dazedly at her face. “I had to see that it was really you. I saw you drown. But you’re really here…”

She had no idea what he was talking about, but she might as well capitalize on this weakness. “Perhaps I’m a ghost. Or it could be that you’re going a little more crazy than you were already.” She took a step closer to him. She had a sudden idea, and her voice lowered to a hiss, “Or did I forget to tell you I’m a twin, too? That should make you feel very close to me.”