Hostage

He could tell that the girl didn't know a goddamned thing. It was all stupid. He was stupid just for asking.

'Mars. Get her out of here. Take her back to her room.'

Dennis went to the office for the vodka, then brought it to the den, drinking on the way. The lights came on as he dropped onto the thick leather couch.

Kevin stopped in the door.

'Are you going to tell me what happened?'

'I shouldn't have told him about the money. Now he's gonna keep it all for himself.'

'He said that?'

'I tried to cut him in. What the fuck, it's a lot of cash, I thought we could buy our way out. See, that was my mistake. Once I told him how much money we had, he probably started thinking he could keep it for himself. Fuck that. If we don't escape, I'm telling everybody. All three of us will tell them about the cash, so if Talley tries to keep it they'll nail his ass.'

Dennis pulled deeper at the bottle, his mouth numb to it, angry at that bastard, Talley, for stealing his money.

'He's gonna kill us, Kev. We're fucked.'

'That's crazy. He's not going to kill us.'

Kevin was so fuckin' stupid.

'He's got to kill us, you idiot. He can't let us tell people about the money. The only way he can keep it is if nobody knows about it. He's probably gonna cap all three of us before they even read our rights. He's probably plannin' how to do it right now.'

Kevin came over and stood by the couch, crowding him.

'It's over, Dennis. We have to give up.'

'Fuck it's over! That money is mine!'

Dennis felt his anger building, and drank more of the vodka. That had always been Kevin's role in life, to hold him back, dragging behind him like an anchor, keeping him down.

Kevin stepped closer.

'You're going to get us all killed for that money. Talley's not playing games. The cops are going to get tired of waiting for us to give up, then we'll all be fuckin' killed!'

Dennis raised the bottle, and shrugged.

'Then we might as well die rich.'

'No!'

Kevin slapped the bottle from his hand, and then Dennis was off the couch. Dennis felt out of himself, his head a red blur of rage and frustration. He shoved Kevin over the coffee table and followed him down. Kevin grunted with the impact and tried to cover his face, but Dennis held him with his left hand and punched with his right, hitting his brother again and again.

'Dennis, stop!'

He hit Kevin as hard as he could.

'Stop crying, goddamnit!'

He hit Kevin harder.

'Stop crying!'

Kevin rolled into a ball, his face blotched red, sobbing. Dennis hated him. He hated their father and their mother, hated all the rathole apartments and the brutal assholes their mother had brought home, hated his shitty job and the Ant Farm and every day of their failed lives, but most of all he hated Kevin for reminding him of these things every time he looked at him.

'You're fuckin' pathetic.'

Dennis climbed to his feet, breathless and spent.

'That money is mine. I'm not leaving without it, Kevin. Get that in your head. We're not giving up.'

Kevin crawled away, whimpering like a beaten dog.

Dennis picked up the bottle, and saw Mars standing in the door, watching without expression. Dennis wanted to hit Mars, too, the sonofabitch.

'What? You got something to say?'

Mars did not respond, the shadows in the dim light masking his eyes.

'What?'

Mars responded somberly.

'I like it here, Dennis. We're not going to leave.'

'Fuckin' A we're not.'

The vague smile flickered at Mars's lips, the only part of him that Dennis could see.

'We're going to be fine, Dennis. I'll take care of everything.'

Dennis turned away and sucked down another belt of the vodka.

'You do that, Mars.'

Mars melted into the darkness and disappeared.

Dennis burped. Creepy bastard.

TALLEY

Quiet settled over York Estates. The traffic on Flanders Road had thinned; the line of cars filled with the morbid gawkers who wanted a brush with crime was gone, leaving the California Highway Patrol motor officers who were manning the barricades with nothing to do. Inside the development, the Sheriffs sat in their cars or at their posts. No one talked. Everyone waited.

Talley pulled his car to the curb outside Mrs. Peña's home and cut the engine. He looked at the command van. With nothing going on at the house, Maddox and Ellison would have pulled back to the van to alternate shifts on the phone, the off negotiator catching a catnap in the van's bunk or the backseat of a car. Talley was tired. The center of his back between his shoulder blades was knotted with a pronounced pain that cut into his spine. His head felt cloudy from more than fatigue, leaving him to mistrust his thinking. He wasn't a kid anymore.