Unrevealed

wouldn’t be right. So…I had no choice.…” She turned to Jane. “They were asleep. So was Megan. Craig was awake though. I made damn sure of that. I wanted to make certain he saw me . I wanted him to understand what was about to happen. I told him that he would never hurt me again and that Megan would never get hurt again either.”

    “You didn’t need to kill Megan.”
    “Oh, yes, I did.” Courtney’s voice was calm and blunt. “She was damaged goods. Just like I am. Who would love her, Jane? She was tainted by her own father.… I did what I did to her out of a mother’s love.”
    Jane regarded Courtney with cautious disgust. “Courtney, I came to this bar tonight to arrest you. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do can and will be held against you in the court of law.…”
    “Silent?” Courtney’s voice rose several octaves. “I don’t want to be silent, Jane! Silence is what got me where I am right now. I want to scream, Jane!” She flung her arms in the air, moving erratically around the bar. “I want everyone to know what happened to me…what happened to my daughter.…”
    Jane backed away from Courtney, giving the woman distance to vent. “You have the right to speak to an attorney,” Jane pressed on. “If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you — ”
    Courtney ambled closer to the bar, still waving her arms in the air. “I can afford the best goddamned attorney in the state of Colorado!”
    Jane heard the click of the bar’s front door opening and two sets of soft footsteps issuing forth. Courtney seemed unaware of the swift visitors. Jane needed to wrap things up here quickly. Pulling her handcuffs from her back pocket, she slowly walked toward Courtney. “Do you understand these rights as they have been read to you, Courtney?”
    Courtney turned toward the bar, her back to Jane. “Oh, it’s clear, honey!” She looked at the butt of her gun poking from underneath her jacket. “Deliriously clear!” Courtney grabbed the gun off the bar and swerved back around, arm outstretched toward Jane.

    Jane instinctively reached for her Glock but screamed to the two others, now hidden in the folds of darkness. “ No ! Hold your fire!”
    But her order and the deafening sound of 9-millimeter rounds merged. Two rounds punctured Courtney’s already blood-splattered turtleneck and the third entered the side of her neck, slamming Courtney’s body against the bar.
    “Her gun isn’t loaded!” Jane yelled. “ Her gun is not fucking loaded !”
    Two cops wearing heavy vests emerged from the darkened corner of the bar. One of them approached Jane. “She pointed a fucking gun at you! How in the hell are we supposed to know it’s not loaded?!”
    “Suicide by cop,” the other officer mumbled.
    Jane stared at Courtney. Her body slid from the bar onto the floor, her frail hand still clutching the toothless handgun. There was a sudden flutter of movement in her right eye. Jane quickly moved to Courtney. She knelt down beside her, cradling her head in one hand while pointlessly trying to stop the gush of blood from her neck with the other hand. A look of peace came over the dying woman as a thin smile crept across her pale, blood-laced face. She finally allowed the empty gun to slip from her hand. “Things aren’t always what they seem, huh, Jane?” she stammered. As her eyes rolled back into her head, she whispered, “Lucky…lucky for me tonight…”
    Courtney’s death was called at 2:09 a.m. One by one, an onslaught of Denver PD reps and officers emerged from the shadows outside and filled the bar with their murmuring chatter. Jane stood back from the crush of suits and badges. Someone handed her a large cloth napkin to wipe Courtney’s blood from her hand. She heard, “Sorry, Jane,” and, “The woman gave us no choice,” but their words fell like bricks.

    Jane ducked outside the bar and stood under the crimson glare of Bloody Mary’s neon sign. Lighting a cigarette, she took a deep drag, waiting for the nicotine to numb and grant her a few seconds of solitude. But the solitude never came. A gust of frosty wind brushed hard against Jane’s body. She pulled her leather jacket tighter across her chest. The crunch of snow bit fangs of ice into her boots. A couple shots of Jack sounded so damn good at that moment. Yes, that would warm and soothe her twisting gut. But she was a recovering drunk, and she was standing there shivering