Free Lifeguard by James Patterson

mother put her hand lightly on my cheek. She took off my cap and smiled at my mess of blond hair, the Florida tan. “You look fine. It’s so good to see you, Neddie. Even now.”
    “It’s good to see you, too, Mom.”
    And it was—to be back in the old kitchen. I felt free for a moment or two. I picked up an old Kodak print taped to the fridge. The Kelly boys. Dave, JM, me on the field behind Brockton High. JM in his red and black football jersey. Number 23. All-Section safety his junior year…
    When I looked up, my mother was staring at me. “Neddie, you’ve got to turn yourself in.”
    “I can’t.” I shook my head. “I will, eventually. But not yet. I have to see Pop. Where is he, Mom?”
    “Your father?” She shook her head. “You think I know?” She sat down. “Sometimes I think he even sleeps at Kelty’s now. Things have gotten worse for him, Neddie. He needs a kidney transplant, but he’s past the age when our coverage is gonna pay for it. He’s sick, Neddie. Sometimes I think he just wants to die….”
    “Trust me, he’ll be around long enough to bring you more misery,” I snorted.
    Suddenly we heard the sound of a vehicle pulling up to the curb outside. A car door slamming shut. I was hoping it was Frank.
    I went over to a window and pulled back the blinds.
    It wasn’t my father.
    Two men and a woman were coming up the driveway toward the house.
    My mother rushed to the window. There was worry in her eyes.
    We’d seen my father taken off to jail too many times not to recognize the law.

Chapter 29
    BOTH OF US STARED wide-eyed at “twenty to life” in prison coming toward the house.
    One of the agents, a black guy in a tan suit, peeled away from the other two and headed around back.
    Shit, Neddie, think! What the hell do we do now…?
    I’ve never felt my heart pounding the way it did for those seconds it took the agents to make their way up the stairs. It was useless to run.
    “Neddie, turn yourself in,” my mother said again.
    I shook my head. “No, I’ve got to find Frank.” I took my mother by the shoulders, a pleading glimmer in my eye. “I’m sorry….”
    I pressed up against the wall next to the front door, not knowing what the hell I would do next. I didn’t have a weapon. Or a plan.
    There was a knock at the door. “Frank Kelly?” a voice called. “Mrs. Kelly? FBI!”
    My imagination was running wild but coming up with nothing that could help me. Three agents, one a woman. The female was tanned, which probably meant she’d come from Florida.
    “Mrs. Kelly?” They knocked again. Through the blinds I could see a husky guy in front. My mother finally answered. She looked at me sort of helplessly. I nodded for her to open the door.
    I closed my eyes for half a second.
Please, don’t do the stupidest thing of your entire life.
    But I went and did it anyway.
    I barreled into the agent as soon as he walked through the door. We rolled onto the floor. I heard the guy grunt, and when I looked up, his handgun had slid out of his hand and was about four feet away. We both fixed on it.
He,
not knowing if a vicious killer had just gotten the jump on him.
I,
knowing once I made a move for that gun, my life as I knew it was over. I didn’t care about the woman, or the guy sneaking around to the back. I just went for the gun. There was no other way.
    I rolled off him and wrapped both hands around the gun.
“Nobody moves!”
    The agent was still on the floor. The woman—who was small and cute, actually—fumbled under her suit jacket for own weapon. The third agent had just made it through the back door.
    “No!”
I shouted, and extended the gun. The woman looked at me, her hand on her holster.
    “
Please
… Please, don’t pull that out, now,” I told her.
    “Please, Neddie,” my mother was begging me, “put the gun down. He’s innocent.” She looked at the agents. “Ned wouldn’t hurt anyone.”
    “I don’t
want
to hurt anybody,” I told them. “Now put your guns