The Shooting (22 page)

He sat up and pushed the bedclothes out of the way and then climbed out of bed. He padded across to his closet. The sunlight that shone brightly through his window seemed incongruous with his dark thoughts, but it didn’t deter him. The huge fig trees lining the street below whispered gently in the breeze, the same breeze that now ruffled his hair. It was a nice day.

With careful deliberation, he opened the sliding door of his closet and riffled through one of his drawers until his hands closed around a belt. It was a nice leather belt. Soft, but strong. His mom had bought it for him last year to wear with his pants at her sister’s wedding.

He tested it now by pulling it hard between his hands. The leather gave off a satisfying snap and he tugged it a couple of more times to be sure. It was good and strong, just like he remembered. It ought to do the trick.

He looked around his bedroom and debated about where he could do it. He needed something high enough off the floor that he wouldn’t muck it up. There’d be no failing this time. He might have become a laughing stock after all that had happened at his school, but he had no intention of making the same mistake twice. He needed to do this right.

A moment later, he found it. The brace that hung from the roof, supporting his TV. It was made of steel and should hold his weight. He climbed up on his bed and swung off it, testing it. The bracket didn’t move.

Standing on the bed, Brady threaded the belt through the buckle and pulled it tight, leaving enough room to take his head. With the belt now loose around his neck, he reached up to the TV bracket and pushed one end of the belt through the steel. It pulled tight around his neck and he stood high on tiptoe to ease the pressure. It wouldn’t work until he’d secured the belt around the bracket.

With a grunt, he managed to knot the belt—only once, but it would have to do. It wasn’t long enough to loop through again. He dragged in a breath through the tension around his throat and eased it out. He was almost done.

On tiptoes again, he thought through his plan. The bracket was almost not high enough. He’d have to throw himself out and pull his knees up if he wanted it to work the first time. He wondered if he’d be brave enough to do it.

He heard the sound of breaking glass and his mother’s scream of fear. A second later, she was shouting at his father, ordering him out of the house. With another deep breath, he swung hard off the bed and the belt pulled instantly tight.

* * *

Hannah Sutton poured herself a neat scotch from the modest selection of bottles in her liquor cabinet and threw it back in a single gulp. It was the middle of the day. She shouldn’t be drinking, but she needed something to fortify her. The last few minutes spent with her ex husband had left weak and trembling. Her hands still shook, despite the fact Colin had left more than an hour earlier. She should have called the police. She had a restraining order out on him, after all. He wasn’t supposed to come within a hundred yards of her house.

She’d called him and asked him over because she needed to speak to him about Brady. The charges, the pending court hearing, the fact that her son’s own father had given him the gun. Brady hadn’t left the house since it happened and she could hardly leave him alone. So, she’d taken the risk and called his dad and now she wished she hadn’t.

It had turned ugly almost immediately. She should have known that’s the way it would go. She was foolish to think her husband would apologize or even be sorry for what he’d done. No, of course he wasn’t repentant. He’d put all the blame on her. When he swiped at the crystal vase in a fit of anger, sending it hurtling to the floor, she’d suddenly had enough.

She’d shown him to the door, shaking with anger and fear. She was only thankful Brady hadn’t witnessed it. He’d been in his room since breakfast.

The stress of the past days suddenly crept up on her and overwhelmed her. She poured herself another scotch and blinked back the tears. Her chest went tight and she blinked hard again, but there was no way she could hold them back. They slid down her cheeks in a silent path, a witness to her pain.

What if her husband was right? What if she was at fault?
Brady had accused her of as much a couple of days before when he’d reminded her how she’d done nothing to help him escape the notice of the schoolyard bullies. She remembered him complaining to her of course, on more than one occasion, but she hadn’t been lying when she told him she wasn’t in charge of the classes.

She probably could have done more to ensure he wasn’t in a class with Ian Little, but she’d wanted him to learn how to deal with the bully, rather than running away. There were bullies everywhere, even in the workplace. Like it or not, they’d come in and out of his life and there was no escaping them. It was important her son know how to deal with them, not run away and hide. No, moving Brady to another class would have only been a bandaid solution. Hiding didn’t achieve anything.

And yet, her son cried like his heart had broken when he’d told her it was all her fault and now, with the husband’s accusation ringing in her ears, she wondered if it was true. The thought sent an agony of pain spiralling through her. Lily Munro—a fellow teacher and a friend—had taken a bullet and Hannah was responsible for putting it there.

She cried out at the idea and slid down onto the sofa. The empty glass fell from her fingers and crashed onto the floor. Just like the vase, it hit the ceramic tiles and splintered into a thousand pieces. They glinted like diamonds in the sunlight.

With a gasp and a sob, she stepped carefully around the shards and stumbled up the stairs, unable to cope with the thought of cleaning up the mess just yet. She’d attend to the carnage in later.

With her footsteps muffled by the carpet, the only sound in the still afternoon was her crying. She needed to hold her son, her little baby boy. She needed to tell him how she was sorry and how she’d watch out for him, protect him from now on.

The tears were coming in earnest and she swiped a hand across her nose. She sucked in a ragged breath and did her best to control her pain. She didn’t want to frighten him. Besides, he might even be asleep. She stopped outside his closed door and took another moment to compose herself.

Filling her lungs and letting it out slowly, she blew her nose on a tissue she had tucked inside her bra. Feeling marginally better, she turned the doorknob and stepped quietly into the room. His curtains were thrown wide. Blinking, she let her eyes adjust to the brightness. A moment later, she saw him.

* * *

There was something in Lily’s mouth that was causing her no end of trouble. Every time she tried to swallow, the thing got in the way. She turned her head one way and the other in an effort to dislodge it, but to no avail. She brought one hand up to her mouth and felt something hard and plastic. A tube of some kind. It went into her mouth and pressed uncomfortably against her tongue.

She moved her head and must have made a sound because all of a sudden, there were people leaning over her. Her mother-in-law, Marguerite, and a woman dressed in a nurse’s uniform.

“Mm, mm.”
She tried to speak over the tube, but the effort was far too great. Her heart hammered against the strain.

“Oh, my goodness, she’s waking up! Lily’s waking up!”

Lily frowned at Marguerite’s joy-filled words. Her mother-in-law sounded like it was nothing short of a miracle.

Why wouldn’t she wake up? Just how long had she been asleep? Had they thought she was going to die? The questions came at her fast and furious until she squeezed her eyes shut to block them out. A moment later, a man spoke in a voice she didn’t recognize.

“Lily, can you hear me? It’s Doctor Reeves. Nod, if you can hear me.”

She nodded and was rewarded with a cry of relief that came from Marguerite’s direction. Lily opened her eyes again and looked around for her husband.

“Tom?” she managed in a voice so hoarse she tried to clear her throat.

“He’s here…in the hospital,” Marguerite replied a little hesitantly. “I’ll call Brandon. He can pass the news onto Tom and let him know you’re awake. Tom will be beyond thrilled and excited. Everyone will be. I can’t tell you how wonderful it is to have you back with us.”

Lily tried hard to concentrate on her mother-in-law’s words, but they were confusing and made no sense. If Tom were here in the hospital, why would she call Brandon? Had something happened to Tom’s phone? She thought about it a moment and then decided it must be that. Nothing else made sense.

She opened her mouth to make another attempt at conversation, but was scolded by the doctor.

“Save your energy, Lily and don’t try to speak. You have a tube down your throat that will make it nearly impossible. The tube has been helping you breathe, but we don’t need it any longer. Now that you’re conscious, we can get rid of half this stuff that’s been crowding up your bedside.”

He offered her a reassuring smile that softened the hard planes of his face. He was probably a little younger than she was, but fatigue and countless long and stressful hours had aged him. Not that it mattered what he looked like. All that mattered was that he’d managed to save her life.

Marguerite patted Lily’s hand and murmured something about going outside to make some phone calls. A few minutes later and doing her best not to gag, the breathing tube was removed and Lily got a chance to speak.

“Th-thank you, Doctor Reeves. I-I appreciate everything you’ve done.”

He smiled and accepted her thanks, graciously. “Call me Matthew. We don’t stand on formalities around here.”

She smiled back at him and then lifted her arm still connected to the IV. “What about this? When can it come out? I hate needles.”

Matthew grinned. “You’ll have to wait a little longer for that one. Besides, the needle’s removed right after it’s been inserted. All you have in your arm is a thin plastic tube. If you continue to improve, we’ll move you out of the ICU and onto a ward, but the IV will have to stay in as a precaution. It appears we’re no longer in danger of losing you, but you still have a long road to recovery.”

His expression turned serious. “Bullet wounds are often slow to heal and yours caused considerable trouble as it passed on its way through. Give your body the time it needs and before you know it, you’ll be as good as new.”

Lily held his gaze a moment longer and then slowly turned away. She’d been shot by a pupil in her class. A boy who was all of eleven. The shock of what had happened washed over her again. If there was one thing she was certain, she’d never feel new again. The thought was beyond depressing. She swallowed a sigh. She wanted Tom. She needed Tom.
Whatever could be keeping him?

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Seventeen years earlier

From his position on his battered couch, Tom stared at the phone in his hand and cursed softly under his breath. The afternoon was as good as done and soon it would be nightfall. It had been a whole week since he’d seen Lily and he was just as confused as ever.

One minute, he wanted to push thrust aside her deception and just welcome her back with open arms. The next, he wanted to strangle her for keeping something so important from him and not loving him enough or not trusting him to make things right. No matter how many times the thoughts chased themselves around inside his head, he still didn’t understand it.

Why hadn’t she simply told him she was pregnant?
Okay, a baby hadn’t been in their plans—at least, not in the immediate future—but they loved each other. They’d get married because that’s the way it had to be and they’d live happily ever after. What was wrong with that?

It appeared Lily had seen things differently. In fact, if he hadn’t run into her at the school, he might never have known. Had she been planning to tell him at
any
stage that they’d made a baby? The fact that he didn’t know the answer was deeply troubling.

Perhaps she didn’t love him in the way that he loved her? Perhaps she loved him, but loved him for
now
. Perhaps she didn’t think her love would last a lifetime? There were so many questions left unanswered. The turmoil was turning his life upside down.

Ever since he’d discovered she was going to have his baby, he’d been at odds with the entire world. His lack of sleep had him tired and irritable and he was embarrassed to admit his colleagues had borne the brunt of it.

He snapped at the slightest thing. He couldn’t concentrate enough to conduct even the most basic of interviews in a halfway competent fashion and he had half-finished reports piled up all over his desk. His professional life was beginning to mirror his personal life and Tom didn’t like that one bit. He’d always relished the fact that he could control all facets of his life with relative ease. Each part compartmentalized, separated one from the other. The discovery he was about to be a father was doing his head in.

It wasn’t the thought of being a dad that tortured him. It was the fact that the baby’s mother had kept it from him. It would never occur to him to keep the existence of a baby from the woman that he loved. Okay, so he hadn’t told her about the broken condom and he still felt a measure of guilt over that, but as far as he knew, it hadn’t been an issue. They were together a couple of months. He assumed the malfunction hadn’t resulted in anything but a little stress on his part.

Thinking back, he’d given cursory thought to whether or not she’d had a period during their time together, but the fact was, they hadn’t slept together regularly enough for him to know for sure. He’d done a stint of night shifts for a week during both months and had barely seen her during that time.