“Well played, Sheriff Jack,” Rick said. “I like this character you’ve developed. The hardened hero. Cynical. Much more interesting that a regular hostage negotiator. That’s boring. So overplayed.”
“Thank you,” Jack said. “So what are we doing? Just buying time until this place goes boom? I’ve got cops going through your apartment, you know. All your costumes and makeup. Keepsakes. You seem like the kind of guy who has a lot of keepsakes. Theater memorabilia?”
“You can’t touch that stuff,” Rick said. “That’s private property.”
“They can and they will,” Jack said. “It doesn’t seem like you have any long-term plans after this, so what do you care what happens to your stuff?”
“Fine, you take my stuff, and I’ll take your stuff,” he said. “All I have to do is cut the ropes and down the hole she goes. I’ve never heard a neck break before. I’m looking forward to that.”
“She’s not even awake,” Jack said. “That’s not good TV. You must have hit her too hard.”
“Maybe,” he said, shrugging. “I didn’t expect her to be so strong. She scratched my neck.” He pulled down the collar of his shirt and I could see the angry red welts.
“There’s my girl,” I whispered. I noticed the curtain move slightly at the back of the stage and knew Martinez and Cole were trying to ease their way in.
“But I guess I see your point,” Rick said. “How many viewers do I have? I want you to check.”
Jack looked down at his phone and said, “Only a couple. It looks like people still don’t care, no matter how big of a production you put on.”
“You’re lying!” Rick said. “I sent messages to all the media. They’re all watching. Don’t lie to me. You’re better than that.”
“I guess that just proves you don’t really know me,” Jack said. “A good actor always does his research. But you know enough about me to know you’re not getting out of here. What a lame story.”
Jack was moving slowly toward the stage, and I watched as the curtain twitched again, this time from the other side.
“Why can’t you let me have this?” Rick asked, his voice wavering for the first time and becoming a whine. “I’m tired of being passed over and ignored. I’m someone! I can be whoever I want to be. You saw what I can do with hair and makeup and costumes. Look, I even know how to do prosthetics.” He removed the bulbous tip from the end of his nose. “I’m special.”
“No,” Jack said. “You’re a killer. And you’re not even a killer anyone is going to remember. You’re going to rot away in prison, forgotten. The lives you took were special. And they didn’t deserve to be snuffed out by a nobody like you.”
I could see the rage building in Rick’s face. Red crept up his neck and into his cheeks. His fist tightened around the knife and he moved closer to the rope that held Lily steady in the chair.
He leaned toward her, and I thought it was the end, that he was going to slit her throat, but instead he slapped her across the face. Lily moaned, and he slapped her again, trying to wake her.
“Nothing is going to bring me more pleasure than to know I took you down with me,” Rick said. “You’ve turned out to be quite a disappointment.”
“How many times have you heard that in your life?” Jack called back, not backing down. He was relentless. And I could tell Rick was caught between self-loathing and appreciation for the dramatic. He wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself.
“Wake up, Lily,” Rick said. “Your friends are starting to bore my viewers. But I want you to be awake when I kill you. Do you think it’s overkill to watch her hang before I set off the explosives? I think it’s important that I kill a couple of cops. It seems relevant in today’s climate. I’ll probably get more views for that alone.”
There would be no reasoning with Rick. He’d said it himself in one of his letters. A monster lived inside of him and there was no way out but death. Someone with that level of sickness in them could only function for so long, and he didn’t see any other way. There was no normal in his world. Only the chaotic evil that swirled inside his brain. It couldn’t be easy to live with. Which was why he’d written his own death scene in the third act.
It wasn’t about any of the secondary characters—those of us who were watching him become more and more unhinged. It had always been about him. He was the main character. And he would be the last man standing to take his final bow.
“Jack,” I whispered. My heart was thudding heavily in my chest. When you looked that level of crazy in the eyes, it seemed somehow impossible for us to walk away from this in the end.
Jack held out his hand to me and I took it and he said, “Where you go, I go.”
That was all that could be said. He squeezed my hand once and started walking toward the stage. Rick was standing next to Lily, the detonator raised high in one hand and his knife poised to cut the rope in the other.
Lily had woken, and she was breathing heavy through the gag in her mouth, her eyes wheeling back and forth to take in the scene. And then she started to struggle, to try to break free of her bonds, and I saw the chair tilt backward, the rope only able to keep it so stable.
There was motion all at once. A voice from somewhere underneath yelled out, “All clear!” and the curtains behind the stage whooshed outward and Martinez and Cole came flying onto the stage.
I screamed for Lily to be still, and I watched in horror as Rick’s arm came down and sliced the rope. It was slow motion. The way her chair fell backward and the noose tightened. Cole launched himself across the open trapdoor and he broke Lily’s fall. Jack had vaulted onstage and Martinez kicked Rick’s legs out from under him, and between the two of them they managed to wrest the knife away from Rick and get the cuffs on him.
I ran up the side steps since my vaulting ability had peaked in junior high, and I ran to Lily, tugging at the knot of the rope around her neck. She was lifting her head as high as she could to keep from choking, but it was becoming harder and harder.
Cole was doing the best he could, holding himself in a plank across the hole that was almost as wide as he was. His jaw was tight as he strained to make sure Lily didn’t fall through.
I finally got the rope off her neck and then pushed the chair with all my might off of Cole’s back and to an upright position.
“Oh, thank God,” Cole said, wheezing, and Martinez came over and helped lift him so he didn’t drop down into the hole trying to get up. “I need to lay off the donuts. My abs are killing me right now.”
“Jack, hand me your knife,” I said, and he pulled it from his boot so I could slice Lily’s bindings.
And then Jack went over to the tripod and camera that was set up, so all the world could watch, and he turned it off.
I got the zip ties off Lily and she slid out of the chair and into my arms on the floor, her arms wrapped around me.
“Sorry,” she said, half laughing, half crying. “My legs aren’t working yet.”
“No worries,” I said. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
“I’ll take it from here,” Cole said, and lifted Lily out of my lap and into his arms.