Look Again - Lisa Scottoline [99]
“Reowwh!” The fat cat screeched in protest, his thick body twisting this way and that, and the surprise knocked Moore off-balance. He raised his hands and fell backwards. The gun fired into the ceiling. Oreo Figaro fell to the floor, righting himself and scampering off.
Ellen launched herself like a missile, aiming for Moore’s gun. She barreled into him, and he staggered backwards into the kitchen. She grabbed the gun with all her might and struggled to wrest it from his grip.
“Get offa me!” Moore howled. He held on to the gun, whipped Ellen around, and slammed her into the doorway. Her head banged against the wood but she hung on to his wrist, fighting for the gun even as he pointed its muzzle at Carol, who had picked up Will and was taking him out the other doorway.
“RUN!” Ellen screamed.
“Shut up!” Moore threw her against the stove, shaking her hand loose and training the gun on Carol.
Carol looked over her shoulder, and in one motion, put Will on the landing behind her, blocked him with her body, and raised her arms protectively, facing Moore. She shouted, “Don’t you dare hurt my son!”
Moore squeezed the trigger, firing point-blank, and Ellen screamed in horror.
Carol’s chest exploded in wool tatters. Her mouth dropped open. Her head snapped forward. She dropped onto the kitchen floor, crumpling at the knees, her legs grotesquely askew.
“NO!” Ellen hurled herself at Moore, but this time, in her hand was the cast-iron burner from her stovetop. She swung the burner as hard as she could into Moore’s face. The spiked end speared his forehead, and a gaping hole appeared. In the next second, it spurted a gruesome freshet of bright red blood. Moore’s eyes flew open, and he slumped against the wall, then slid down, insensate.
Ellen heard herself shouting something, but even she didn’t know what she said. The gun fell to the floor, and she picked it up and aimed it at Moore as he landed in a sitting position. She pointed the gun at him, not knowing whether to shoot him or save him. A crooked grin crossed his face before his eyes cut away and his gaze fixed.
Ellen hurried over to Carol, picking her up with care and feeling under her chin for a pulse. There was none. Blood soaked her coat from the hole in her chest, right over her heart.
Ellen leaned Carol back down on the floor, bent over her and listened for breath. No sound. She opened Carol’s mouth and began to breathe air into her, but it was too late for CPR. She tried anyway, but it was no use. Carol’s head fell back, too loose on her neck, her mouth hanging open, and Ellen heard herself moan, stricken. She set her down on the floor carefully, saying a silent prayer.
Will.
Ellen half crawled, half stumbled to the landing, where Will lay bundled, sobbing. His terrified eyes met hers, so much like Carol’s that for a minute, it gave her a start. She picked him up and hurried out of the kitchen with him, shielding him from the grisly scene and telling him everything was going to be all right. She hurried him into the living room and sat with him on the couch, putting him on her lap and comforting him as she unpeeled the duct tape from his mouth. She started slowly, but he cried even harder, his nose bubbling.
“Hold on, sweetie, it’ll only hurt for a second.” She yanked off the duct tape, letting it fall, and he erupted in the full-blown wail of a newborn.
“Mommy! Mommy! It hurts!”
“It’s all over now, it’s all over.” Ellen kept talking to him, grabbing a Kleenex from the coffee table and wiping his nose. The tape had pulled some of the skin around his mouth off, leaving it irritated and sticky, and the adhesive made an ugly pattern around his lips.
“It hurts!”
“Here we go, it’ll stop soon.” Ellen dried his eyes with a new tissue, then tried to comfort him as she untaped his hands and feet, the stench of gasoline filling her nostrils. She was sliding him out of his wet snowsuit when she caught a glimpse of blood dripping behind his right ear.
God, no.
“It’s okay now, honey,” she said, but his tears kept flowing. She pulled a Kleenex from the