Baltimore 03 - Did You Miss Me?

found. Except for Beckett. He was still out there and none of them could rest as long as he was free.
    Ford squinted again, staring at Hal who was sitting in the back of the police cruiser. The man was staring at the trees, just past the line of cars parked along the drive.
    Someone was there, in the woods. Another man. He was hiding in the trees, moving parallel to his mother and the others, who were walking toward the line of emergency vehicles. The man paused long enough for Ford to see long gray hair.
    Wilson Beckett . Within him something snapped. Ford started to run, around the side of the garage, close to the cabin, toward the trees where Beckett lurked. From the corner of his eye, Ford saw an axe propped against the front wall of the cabin – the axe that Beckett had tried to use to kill Ford that first day.
    Ford grabbed the axe and charged the treeline. He stopped thinking of anything but Beckett and crashed into the old man, knocking him to the ground. Wilson Beckett .
    Beckett fought, grabbing for the axe, lurching forward, fighting like a wildcat. He bucked, trying to throw Ford off him. Ford pressed the axe handle into Beckett’s throat, as he’d done days before.
    And just as suddenly as he’d charged, Ford felt the energy drain from him. Beckett got in a good punch and Ford saw stars. Wavy stars. He blinked hard and Beckett grabbed the axe, rolling out from under him, shoving Ford away.
    And then Ford was on his back, looking up at Beckett who held the axe high over one shoulder. He’s going to kill me .
    He could hear shouts, but they seemed far away. All he could see was that axe coming down. But the axe swung off to the side as Beckett howled with pain.
    Tasha . She was growling, her teeth sunk into Beckett’s thigh. Beckett swung the axe at Tasha, but fury gave Ford his second wind. He came to his feet, grabbed the axe and hit Beckett with the handle, as hard as he could.
    Beckett dropped like a rock and Ford went down with him. He rammed the axe handle against Beckett’s throat again, leaning into him with every ounce of his weight.
    ‘You,’ Ford hissed, barely feeling a sting when his knuckles connected with Beckett’s jaw. ‘You did this. You took her. You hurt her. You hurt them all.’
    ‘Ford. Ford! ’ His mother’s voice broke through the haze. ‘Ford, stop!’
    I don’t want to . I want him to die . Ford stared down into malevolent eyes. An open, gasping mouth. Dirty hands that closed around the axe handle, pulling with desperation. Beckett will die today .
    ‘Ford. Stop. Please, son.’ Ford looked up into his mother’s face, inches away. She knelt behind Beckett’s head, her hands gripping Ford’s shoulders. ‘Don’t do this. Don’t ruin your life over him.’
    ‘He hurt you. He deserves to die.’
    ‘You’re right. But he’s not ours to kill. Think about all those families whose daughters aren’t ever coming home. They deserve to have their voices heard. They deserve justice. If you kill him now, they won’t get that. And you’ll go to prison. Let him go, Ford. Let him go .’
    Her words sank in, past the red haze of fury. She was right. Ford knew she was right. ‘Back up, Mom.’
    His mother stood, backing up a few feet, and Ford set the axe to one side. He caught the old man’s wrists, pinning them over his dirty gray head. Beckett gasped for air, hate in his eyes. He continued to struggle and Ford had balled up his fist to hit him again when Joseph Carter appeared in his field of vision.
    Joseph squeezed Ford’s shoulder. ‘It’s over, son. You can let him go. I’ll take it from here. Daphne, honey, call off Tasha.’
    His mother did and Tasha backed away, still growling. Ford heard a click and, looking over his shoulder, saw that Deacon had snapped a leash on Tasha’s collar.
    Ford pushed to his feet, noticing with satisfaction that Joseph was none too gentle as he cuffed Beckett. The Fed hauled the old man up and shoved him face first into a tree, leaning forward to whisper in his ear, ‘Fight me . Resist. Just a little. Please.’
    ‘Go to hell,’ Beckett snarled.
    Ford glanced at his mother. She’d crossed her arms over her chest, shivering. Her worried eyes didn’t leave Joseph. She was afraid he’d kill the man.
    Ford understood where Joseph was coming from. Beckett turned his head, letting his gaze rake lecherously down his mother’s body, and Ford had to clench his fists to keep from hitting him again.
    ‘You grew up real nice,