Restore My Heart (39 page)

Dan returned to the Darrin. “You sure you want it this way, baby?”

“Just do it, Dan.”

Dan exhaled a loud breath. “Give me a light.”

Joe risked another glimpse at Justin when Barbara pitched Dan her cigarette lighter.

Justin’s gaze slid toward the door. He expected someone. Had he brought along the cavalry? Or—

Sally!

Somehow, Sally had engineered a rescue. Joe was as certain of it as he’d been of anything in his life. Fiercely loyal and full of love, Sally would track him down, without a thought to her own safety. Fear gripped him. She was no match for these two. And he couldn’t lose her now. He’d never told her he loved her. His stubborn heart had denied it. Too long. But maybe, just maybe, not too late.

Whatever Sally and Justin planned, Joe prayed to God she wasn’t coming in alone.

Sally stayed next to the inside wall, moving silently. She resisted the urge to dust off the spider webs clawing at her, draping her with— No, she’d rather not think about captured bugs or furry spiders. She edged toward the voices, trying to identify the players. She’d not seen her dad, nor heard his voice. Was he all right? Had he been knocked unconscious?

Then she saw him in the shadows, with his hands bound in front of him, his head hung low. To his right, Joe leaned against bales of straw, his hands behind his back. Both were alive, thank God. Spotlighted by a single lantern, Barbara held them at gunpoint. Her accomplice, the man she’d embraced last night in her living room, the man Sally assumed to be Dan Alsop, turned to Barbara and spoke. Sally had to make a move, but she’d have to go after the man. He was closer. Unfortunately, Barbara held the gun.

“Give me a light,” Dan said.

Sally expected Barbara to hand him the battery powered lantern, the barn’s only source of light. Just then, the too-familiar odor of raw gasoline wafted from the straw.

Barbara tossed him a tiny object.
Give me a light
. The horrible picture came into focus. Barbara and Dan were setting fire to the barn, leaving Joe and her dad to die in the flames. The man held the lighter to the gasoline-soaked straw, poised to flick the Bic.

Suddenly, the barn door slammed open. Another man barged in, making no attempt to hide his presence. As he drew near Barbara, the lantern’s dim light illuminated his face. Sally stifled a gasp. She knew this man. What was
he
doing here?

“Mother, thank God I got here in time! I’ll take care of these two.”

Joe’s loud gasp mirrored Sally’s own reaction. Barbara Bloom’s long lost son knew exactly how to get here, dammit, because his fiancée had written down the directions less than an hour earlier. And he’d offered to help.

Brendan Price aimed a gun at his future brother-in-law’s head. Sally’s spirits nose-dived. He wouldn’t have called police. Ferguson was their only hope now.

“What do you mean, you’ll take care of them?” Barbara demanded.

Keeping his gun on Joe, Brendan tugged Barbara close and kissed her cheek. “I’ve taken care of all the people, Mother. Don’t worry. Nobody can expose or hurt you now.”

Barbara kept her voice calm, but her fingers tightened into whiteness against her pistol. “What, exactly, have you done, Brendan?”

“I’ve eliminated the obstacles to your plan. Well, except for—” He stopped, frowning. His gaze swept the circle of people assembled at the Darrin.

Sally didn’t dare breathe. The hammering of her pulse was probably loud enough to give away her presence.

“Where is she? Where’s Sally?”

“Sally? She’s not here, son. Now tell me. Did you
kill
anybody?”

“Of course. I had to shoot that mechanic so I could get those Polaroids for you. And Vic, of course—”

“You killed Vic?” Barbara rasped. “Why?”

“He stood in your way. He had no ambition. That’s what you said.”

“But, Brendan, I never said to
kill
him.”

Funny, coming from a woman about to commit two murders.

“He found out about the cars, just like Leo. And you said Leo had to die, remember? I helped you.”

Even in darkness, Sally saw Joe go rigid. “You killed my dad?”

The rest of the puzzle pieces snapped into place. A dozen yards separated Sally and Joe, but she sensed his rage as he figured out how his father had died. The bogus break-in at Brendan’s clinic to cover up the missing Succinylcholine Chloride. The pieces of a discarded hypodermic. No forced entry.

Brendan had supplied his mother with the drug to disable Leo. Using Leo’s own gun, Barbara staged his suicide after he was dead. But Sally couldn’t afford to let Leo’s murder preoccupy her thoughts. There was no time to lose. She needed to act now, while Barbara distracted Brendan.

Forcing her stiff muscles into action, Sally lunged toward Brendan, thumbing the button as she rammed the self-defense device into his neck. He dropped to his knees, immobilized, then collapsed. Sally stumbled, nearly falling over him.

“No!” Barbara screamed, spinning toward Brendan and Sally. In the harsh light of the lantern, her eyes widened at Brendan’s still body.

Although restrained, Sally’s father dropped and rolled into Dan, knocking him down. At the same moment, Joe jumped Barbara. Somehow he’d freed himself and rushed Barbara, grabbing for her arm. Her face flushed with rage, Barbara held onto the gun and fired.

The bullet slammed into Sally’s chest. Scorching heat seared her lungs. Slumping to the floor, she struggled to breathe. A gurgling noise filled her ears, drowning out the distant sounds of a struggle. She coughed, then wished she hadn’t. The pain. The taste of warm blood. More gurgling. She strained to listen as noises from outside penetrated her fog of pain. Sirens cried faintly in the distance, growing louder. Ferguson and troops. Good. Joe and her father would be safe now.

Closing her eyes, Sally surrendered to the darkness.

With an outer form block, a Tai Kwon Do move he’d all but forgotten, Joe deflected the pistol to the side, but not before Barbara got off a shot. His ears ringing from the blast, he seized her wrist with both hands and pivoted, ramming her straightened arm into his shoulder. With his back to her, he heard the crack of her bone as she let go of the pistol. The entire move took mere seconds, but for Joe time stood still. Sally was down and he had to see about her.

His shoulder hurt like hell, but nothing like Barbara’s arm, judging from her scream. He considered going for the gun. He wanted to blow her murderous brains out, but she wasn’t worth it. Ignoring her string of curses, he ran to where Sally lay. Motionless.

Oh, Christ, no!

“Untie me, dammit!” Justin roared, lying in a clump atop a squirming Dan Alsop.

“Wait.” Joe held up his hand, his gaze never leaving Sally. He stooped over her, touching her carotid artery. A pulse, thank God. Blood oozed from her mouth and chest. Terror and helplessness swept through him as he pressed his fingers against her wound to staunch the bleeding. “Stay with us, Sally. Please. I love you. Can you hear me? I love you, sweetheart.”

Special Agent Ferguson burst through the door, followed by Shelby County police, heading for Dan, Barbara, and Brendan. An officer shooed Joe away, and applied a folded bandage against Sally’s wound. Her blood still warm and sticky on Joe’s fingers, he staggered back. He didn’t want to leave her side, but he’d do nothing to impede her speedy treatment. She couldn’t die. She couldn’t! Standing, he swerved, dizziness nearly claiming him.

“Steady, sir,” the officer said. “You’ve had a shock.”

Frantic, Justin crawled his way toward them. Joe fought his lightheadedness and rushed to him, then unknotted the ropes that bound his wrists and ankles. Justin stormed through the cluster of people where his daughter lay, ashen and lifeless. He knelt beside her.

“I’ve radioed for Life Flight,” one of the officers said.

“It’s a chest wound.” Ferguson cursed. “Where are the paramedics?”

“Will she—make it?” Justin asked.

The anguish in Justin Clay’s voice matched the pain in Joe’s heart. His earlier complaints with the man forgotten, Joe gripped his shoulder. Bonded by their love for brave Sally, they waited for the officer’s answer.

“Depends, sir. But the EMTs are right behind us.”

Justin Clay lowered his head. His shoulder trembled against Joe’s hand as he wept.

Two paramedics pushed them all aside, taking over from the officer applying pressure to her wound. Joe’s mind flashed to Sally’s description of pit stops. Focused and organized, the paramedics had her on a stretcher, hooked up to oxygen and two IVs, and loaded onto the helicopter within minutes, precious minutes in the race to save Sally’s life.

The University of Louisville Hospital on Jackson Street was unfamiliar territory for Joe. In an old section of downtown Louisville, it was a long drive from Anchorage. An even longer drive from Simpsonville. Thank God for Life Flight. The busy emergency room had been unusually quiet.

“It should’ve been me.”

Joe flinched at the sound of Justin Clay’s voice. The man hadn’t spoken for hours, not since they began their vigil in the surgery waiting room. “How’s that?”

“I should’ve taken that bullet. She was supposed to wait outside.”

Joe rubbed his gritty eyes. He wasn’t up to reassuring the man. As far as he was concerned, Justin was right. Sally shouldn’t be fighting for her life. “We can’t reinvent history, Justin.”

“I wish I could. I’d rewind nine years.”

Joe didn’t need this right now. If Justin needed to talk, he should find a priest. But Sally wanted her father’s recovery more than anything. She’d want Joe to hear him out.

“And do what?”

“Be stronger. I’m a weak man.”

“Did you know she blames herself for ruining your life?”

Justin recoiled as if he’d been slapped. “What? She said that?”

“She believes you’re disgusted by the sight of her leg because it reminds you of how she screwed up your big chance to race in Winston Cup.”

Justin cursed. “I’m disgusted, all right. Her scars remind me of what a worthless son-of-a-bitch father I am.”

“That’s not the way she sees it.”

Justin’s hands trembled as he finger-combed his hair. “I dragged her from track to track, chasing a pipe dream. Hell, I’s already too old. I probably had one year in me, at best. I ruined
her
life.”

“Then why the cold shoulder?”

“I wanted her to hate me. Hell, the harder I pushed her, the nicer she treated me. I don’t know why. I sure didn’t deserve it.”

“She believed you hated her and she deserved your rejection. God, Justin, couldn’t the two of you have talked during the last nine years? Seems to me you’ve been at cross-purposes.”

“Amen to that.” Sal Clay plopped down in the seat opposite his brother. “Came as soon as you called. Any news yet?”

“No.” Justin dropped his gaze. “She’s in surgery.”

“All we know is the bullet penetrated one of her lungs. There’s internal bleeding.” Joe choked back a sob. “They inserted a chest tube to drain the lung, then rushed her to surgery to repair something they called a massive hemothorax.”

Sal shook his head. “Damn. What happened out there, anyway?”

When Justin didn’t answer, Joe filled Sal in on the showdown at the Culpepper farm. Sal spewed a colorful line of profanity. “I bought her the damn stun device for self defense, hopin’ she’d never need it.”

Justin glared at his brother. “I know. She pulled it on me once.”

“Chill, guys. There’s plenty of guilt to go around.” Joe shook his head, still reeling from Brendan’s revelations back in the horse barn. “Brendan was going to kill us. Sally saved our lives with that tazer.”

“Nobody knew nothin’ about Barbara havin’ an illegitimate son. She didn’t know he killed Roy and Vic?” Sal asked.

“No, she seemed shocked, although she’d enlisted his help in getting the drug to kill Dad.”

Sal shook his head. “Well, at least now we know your dad didn’t kill himself. Never could figure him for a suicide, anyway.”

“That’s what most people said.”

“What about the fire and your grandmother?” Sal asked. “Was that Brendan?”