“No,” he says, shaking his head and slowly moving forward with an outstretched, open hand. “You want to give me that knife. Then you and I can talk about this.”
The pressure of the blade tip lessens ever so slightly, like she’s actually considering that. It’s enough of an opening for me.
“You don’t have to kill me,” I finally pipe up. “You can have him if you want him.”
Amber is so surprised that the knife drops a little.
“You’re lying,” she hisses in my ear. “Only liars steal what belongs to other people.”
I don’t even unpack that logic, I just keep talking.
“Well, do you think if you kill me, Drew is going to be with you?” I point out.
“Oh, we’re going to be together forever,” she sings. “You’ll see.” She points her knife at Drew. “You’ll see too.”
As soon as the knife is away from me, I act on instinct, pushing away. Unfortunately, given my level of panic, I didn’t realize her other hand was wrapped around my wrist. Feeling the pull, I try to shake my arm loose and end up accidentally elbowing Amber in the face. Hard. So hard, she screeches and drops the knife, both hands flying to her nose.
I can also feel an ache in my elbow, but it’s quickly overpowered by another surge of adrenaline that sends me careening toward Drew just as he sweeps the fallen knife away with his foot to get it out of her reach. Once it is, he grabs her, spinning her around and holding her arms behind her back.
“No,” Amber screeches. “I’m Juliet and you’re Romeo. That’s not how this goes.”
Drew shoots me a baffled look. But I have an inkling what she means. She meant to come here today and kill us all. They’d die as the famous lovers did. Which means ...
I watch as Amber opens her mouth to ready herself. And I lunge forward and stick my finger across her bottom teeth, knowing what’s coming. Still, the bite hurts and I have to force myself not to pull my finger out of her mouth.
“What the hell are you doing?” Drew cries.
“Trust me,” I grit out. Amber starts thrashing in his arms, realizing I’ve thwarted her plan, so I use the other hand to grab her by the hair so I keep my finger in her mouth. “I can’t hold her for long. Do you have anything close by I can stick in her mouth to keep her from biting down?”
As Amber tries to pry away, Drew twists one of her arms further, discouraging her struggles. He scans the room, his eyes searching for anything of use when a crash sounds in the living room followed by a booming call. “San Francisco Police!”
Seconds later, cops pour into the room. There’s at least four of them, but I can only see the two that fit in here with the rest of us. The others stay in the hall.
“Thank god, officers,” Drew breathes.
The one closest to us holsters his gun. “We received a 911 call that the residents here were under distress. Mind explaining?” He gestures to my finger in Amber’s mouth.
Drew looks at me, obviously wanting to hear this too.
“I suspect she has a poison capsule on her tooth,” I explain. “I’m keeping her from using it.”
“Ah,” the officer says. He draws a small knife from his belt and gestures to the officer behind him. The second guy pulls out an evidence bag and a flashlight. He holds the flashlight up at Amber’s mouth. “All right, you —” he points at me “— take your finger out and hold her mouth open on my signal. And go.”
Amber starts to bite down again as I go to pull my finger out, but I’m quick enough to hook it into her bottom jaw, then slide my other hand up to hold open her top jaw from the side.
The officer quickly puts one finger in the back of her mouth, then puts the tip of the knife carefully in her mouth on the other side. A second later, he withdraws a small, dark capsule on his fingertip.
“You were right,” he says, dropping it into the bag. “Let’s get her cuffed and you can tell me how you knew that.”
Now that Amber is totally defenseless, I release my hold on her jaws and Drew follows suit, releasing her arms. She makes to elbow Drew in the face, but he dodges and I take a huge step away.
Then she turns to throw a forward punch at god knows who, but the first officer is prepared. He catches her fist and swings her around with one arm, sliding handcuffs out of a pocket on his belt with the other. He has them on her before she even loses momentum. With a grim smile, he hands her off to the second officer.
Amber starts screaming. “Don’t you know who I am? My parents are going to have your asses. You can’t do this to me.” Her screams continue as they drag her out. Presumably to a squad car as soon I can’t hear her at all.
“You two okay? Any injuries?” he asks, eyeing the knife on the floor.
I hold up my hand. “Index finger bite wounds.” I point at my neck. “Knife tip.”
The officer raises an eyebrow and looks at Drew. “You?”
“I’m okay.” He doesn’t look okay. Pale and shaken is more like it. But he’s whole, and alive. And that’s everything.
“Good. Now let’s go outside and hear the story, then the paramedics can take care of you and our guys can bag that knife.”
I nod, suddenly exhausted even though I technically woke up just over an hour ago.
Once we’re outside we explain everything that happened.
“So when she made the Romeo and Juliet comment —”
“You knew she had poison,” the officer supplies. “Smart girl.”
Drew laces his fingers with mine, on the hand the paramedics are not attending to.
“Are you up to date on your tetanus shot, ma’am?” the paramedic bandaging my finger asks.
“Yes,” I say. “Thank you.”
He gives me a smile and nods, then packs up his medical kit.
“Well, if you two have anyone you need to call, now’s the time. Then I can take you down to the station to give official statements.”
The second officer comes up. “Your perp is Amber Fisher. As in Bronwyn Fisher’s daughter,” he tells the first cop. “She also had these on her.” He holds up a small baggie of pills. “Press are going to eat this up. You might want to get these two out of here ASAP. I’ll lock up the scene.”
The first officer nods and ushers us into the back of an unmarked car just as a news van pulls up across the street. Before he can even shut the door, flashes start going off and I hear officers hollering for them to stay back.
As soon as we pull away, I get out my phone and call Matt. He doesn’t answer. I don’t bother leaving a voicemail. If he’s not reachable, he doesn’t know to worry yet, and hopefully this will all be over soon.
I turn to Drew, who is talking quietly to someone on the phone. When he hangs up, I wrap my hand over his.
“You okay?” I ask.
He snaps out of his reverie and turns to me. “I will be, thanks.” But he still looks so shaken. I decide not to push too hard right now.
“Who were you talking to?”
“My mom. The vocal command I gave called her. She heard everything. She’s a little shaken up, but I think she’ll be all right.”
“Wow. That’s … well, I’m glad she knows you’re okay.” And that she was there to answer. “Do you need to call the restaurant?”