Chapter 37: Chapter 37

James Charlotte, freed now, stands silent, her eyes narrowed, watching it all.

Klempner, gun in hand, nods to her. “Jenny.”

She nods back. “Father.”

His mouth works.

Acknowledgement from her?

For the first time…

But he’s earning it…

“How are you, Jenny? Did he hurt you?” His tone is odd, hesitant.

He’s nervous?

He faces down a man with a gun without blinking, but he’s nervous of Charlotte?

She snorts. “I can't believe you have the nerve to ask that. I’m sorry about your mother, but you're still a maniac.”

Something like humour skips across his face. “The point is, that I'm the maniac on your side. And I'm probably a lot better equipped than you are to deal with the maniac who isn't.”

She’s weaving a little. Her nose-bleed has stopped but with the blood down her face and clothing, she’s not a pretty picture.

How badly hurt is she?

And not admitting it?

I hook my arm around hers, as though casually, but trying to gauge if she needs support.

“Astonishingly, it seems we’re in this together. Once we knew it was Ben…”

Michael looks close to tears. “Charlotte, I’m so sorry. My own brother…”

She cuts in, her voice sharp. “Where’s Kirstie?”

Michael looks away. I speak instead. “She jumped from the moving car. She’s badly injured. Ryan’s looking after her. It was Kirstie who raised the alarm. How we knew how to find you.”

Klempner fixes his eyes on Mitch. It’s as though I’m seeing a different man. The harshness, the madness dissolved away, leaving only…

“Mitch.”

But the red-haired woman, so much like my Jade, stands frozen, once more pressed hard back against the wall.

She’s terrified of him…

“I’d like some privacy,” he says.

Mitch swings her head. “Don’t leave me alone with him.”

“Not gonna happen,” says Michael.

Fury flashes over Klempner’s face. “What did you expect?” I say. “With your track record?”

The fury fades and he nods, then turns back to Mitch. “You found your daughter then.”

“She found me. Frank told me you'd killed her, but she found me anyway.”

Klempner hisses, his eyes flashing between Mitch and Charlotte, the rage… the fury… splashing up to the surface again. Then he seems to regain some control.

He rubs the back of his head, stares up, then back. “Yes, so they tell me. As you can see, Frank lied.

Mitch, if I’d known she was mine… You didn't tell me you were pregnant.”

Mitch shifts on her feet, some of her panic fading. “It was very early. I didn’t realise myself until later and when I saw what you did, what you’d done… I was inside Blessingmoors. I saw those women. I was scared.”

“And you ran to him? To Conners?”

“No, not at first. I tried to go home. Back to my family. But they wouldn’t have me. And Frank was there.

He wanted me and… Larry, I was so frightened.”

He looks down, then back at her. “Of me.”

“Of you, yes.”

His eyes drop once more. His chest heaves. “Did he make you happy?”

“No. I never loved him.” She looks to Charlotte. “I never wanted his children.”

Klempner moves closer. Mitch chews at a lip but doesn’t retreat. “Twenty years,” he says, “and you don’t look any different.”

Her face falls. “I’ve grown old.”

“No, you haven’t.” He reaches out, hesitantly. She flinches but doesn’t pull away as he touches her face. “You do look tired through.” Then he scowls, looking close. “That didn’t happen today.”

Holding her chin between thumb and forefinger, he turns her face, not to the new bruising, but to the other side, where the last traces of a cut on her cheek are all but gone.

“Where did you get that?” His eyes dart to me and Michael, the heat returning. “Was it one of them?”

“No. No, it wasn’t. Quite the opposite. They rescued me. It was Frank. They stopped him. Took me with them. Took me in. I’m divorcing him.”

“Frank? He was beating you?”

She swallows, looks away.

Expressionless, Klempner says, “Where is he now?”

“I… I left him after….” Her eyes dart between me and Michael. “They came to my home. And it was Jenny. Jenny was there, on my doorstep. After Frank told me you’d murdered her…”

“As you can see, I didn’t.”

Michael interrupts. “Yes, you were always the ever-loving guardian, weren’t you?”

Klempner curls his lip, chin jutting. “And look at her.” He aims a forefinger at Charlotte, standing by me, ram-rod straight, head lifted, eyes like green fire. “She’s not scared. Mitch is shaky. You’ve been shot by your own brother. But she’s just dealing with it.”

There’s a sound… A movement… Something outside…

“We need to go,” I say. “It’s anyone’s guess what Ben’s doing.

Klempner nods, pulls out his gun again. “Come on. Keep your eyes open.” He starts towards the corridor. We follow.

After a moment I realise that Charlotte isn’t keeping up. “Why are you limping? What’s wrong?”

She winces. “I think I landed on my knees when Ben attacked me.”

“You think? You don’t remember? Did he knock you out?”

“Um, sort of. He pushed me down the steps. I banged my head as I fell. I…”

“Whoa!” I hold up a hand. “Back up there. Ben pushed you down the steps? What steps?”

“At the store. On the way down to the parking level.” Her face drops, then lifts. “I… I was stupid. I believed what he was saying to me. I let him get behind me and he pushed me.”

Michael drops his head into his hands. “Oh, Christ. Ben…”

“Fucking right, Oh, Christ.” I whirl, jabbing a finger. “I don’t care if he’s your brother. He attacks a woman and doesn’t even having fucking balls to give her a fight. A man who pushes a pregnant woman down the stairs has lost any right to consideration.”

Klempner looks at Charlotte, looks thoughtful. “This pregnancy,” he says to Michael. “You’re comfortable with it?” He jerks his head to me. “Him being the father?”

Michael folds arms. “I helped arrange it.”

Klempner’s gaze drops to the ground, then shifts to Mitch. “And you?”

“It’s a baby. What does it matter who the father is?”

Klempner’s eyes fall again. He nods, then seems to come to a decision. “James, give Jenny your gun.”

Should I?

It should be me protecting her…

But she should be able to protect herself…

I’m not happy about this. I hesitate, then offer it grip first, to Charlotte.

Klempner watches her. “Do you know how to use one?”

She stares at it. “Why would I learn to use a gun?”

“Well, you might, for example, be attacked by a homicidal maniac intent on destroying you, your baby and its father. The kind of man who is happy to push a pregnant woman down the stairs. And from the way you’re walking, I don’t think you’re in a condition to put up much of a fight.”

“I don’t… I’m not sure,” she stutters.

He sighs, shaking his head, then strides forward, lifts her hand and wraps it around the handle of the pistol.

Then he steps behind her. “Excuse me. It’s faster if I show you this way.”

Standing akimbo, reaching around her, he takes her arms and hands, positioning them. “Hold it in both hands, like this… That’s it. Arms outstretched… Like that…” He taps at her trigger finger. “Feel that tab on the trigger?”

“Yes.”

“That’s your safety. To fire, you pull so that the tab folds back into the trigger itself. Got that?”

“Yes.”

“Now drop the muzzle a little to point to the ground. You won’t shoot anyone accidentally that way, but you can quickly aim.”

“This isn’t how you were holding yours.”

“No, it isn’t. But I know what I’m doing and I’m not going to fire accidentally. You might. And if you do need to shoot, watch for the recoil.”

She chews her lip. “Wish I could practice.”

“You can’t. But if you point that at Ben and shoot, at the very least you’ll throw him off his stride while he ducks for cover. You’ve fourteen rounds in there so that should keep him occupied.”

“What if I need more?”

“If you need more, then you’re probably in more trouble than you can handle alone. But since the rest of us are here too, that shouldn’t be an issue.”

“You think this is a good idea?” Michael growls. “Giving her a gun when she doesn’t know how to use it?”

Klempner curls a lip. “You say your brother never used a gun, but he still shot you. I’d say she needs everything on her side she can get.” His eyes shift to me. “Do you have a problem with that?”

“Teaching Charlotte how to take care of herself? No, not at all.”

“Good. Let’s move.”

“Well, I do.” Michael shoves up. “If we’re having weapons around here, it shouldn’t be the women carrying them.”

Charlotte whirls on him eyes afire. “You wouldn’t use it. Not on Ben. You’d want to, but you’d hesitate. I won’t. He’s already shot you. Kirstie may die. He’s attacked my Master. He’s attacked my mother. He’s attacked my baby!”

She moves up close, eyeballs him. “And if he comes near me again, if I can shoot this thing straight, then by God, I’ll have him. Enough’s enough.”

Klempner watches all this, his expression mild. “I say Jenny keeps the Glock.”

I take her arm. “I agree.”

*****