Chapter Eighteen
Next morning I had great plans for using all that free time with the office closed, the girls at school, and Mike at the substation. Instead, I decided to go back to bed.
“Kelly, I don’t like leaving you alone in the house,” Mike said as we neared the substation. “Things are too uncertain right now. Especially with
Lattimore
missing.”
“Don’t be silly, Mike. I’ll be fine. I just need quiet time alone—and a bit more sleep. Then I’ll start on Christmas.”
“I’m not being silly,” he said stubbornly. “Promise me you’ll take precautions.”
“Okay. I’ll lock the doors, turn on the alarm, keep my phone by the bed.”
“And your handgun.”
Bother! I’m not going to shoot anyone.
“And my handgun.”
“Check and be sure it’s loaded.”
He almost managed to scare me. I began to wonder if he had Keisha’s sixth sense, but I decided he was just worried. If I’d been in danger, Keisha would have called.
Going back to bed in the morning—a rare occurrence—never produced sleep for me, more dozing. Half of my mind actively made plans, figured things out, organized my life. This morning, I was thinking about Christmas and all I had to do. The other half of my mind was thinking how cozy and comfortable I was, even without Mike in the bed. Gus was curled at my feet, something Mike never allowed, and was sleeping soundly.
At first, I heard just a light scratching, so faint I wasn’t sure what it was. Gus slept on, so nothing alarmed him. But then I heard a few more, slightly louder noises that I couldn’t identify. I could tell the noises came from the front door. Without even realizing I did it, I picked up the gun and crept to the bedroom door. I had a perfect view of the hall and the door into it from the living room. Anyone who approached my bedroom would have to come through that door.
Within seconds, I heard that squeak—I never had used WD40 on the front door, in spite of good intentions, and now I was grateful. A whispered oath—whoever it was must have barked a shin on the heavy Craftsman furniture. A whispered, “
Shhh
,” followed. Two people!
I was sure my heartbeat had slowed to zero and I was about to go into cardiac arrest from fear. My hands trembled—could I shoot the gun if I had to? My knees felt weak and I leaned against the doorframe, listening with maybe the greatest concentration I’d ever given anything. I heard them going through the house, quietly but with an occasional
mis
-step. If I’d been sound asleep, I never would have heard it. Gus still didn’t budge, except to twitch his ears as he dreamt.
The house was dark, and they surely would figure that I was sleeping. They’d head for the bedroom, and I’d have one chance—only one. I straightened up and in so doing strengthened my resolve and my steadiness. I was in total dark whereas whoever came through that door would be backlit by the winter daylight streaming into the living room. I assumed that ridiculous pose Mike had taught me and waited.
What in the hell are they doing that’s taking so long?
In truth, they probably hadn’t been in the house three minutes when a tall, bulky figure stood in the doorway from the living room, probably fifteen feet from me. No hesitation. I fired, and he clutched his belly and crumpled.
Behind him, Bella screamed, “Bitch! You shot him. You shot my brother!”
“Stop right there, Bella, or I’ll shoot you too.” It was, I told myself, like target practice though there was a lot more at stake.
Bella moved a step toward me, and for a surreal moment it reminded me of the moving targets Mike had used. I shot, and she screamed in pain and staggered into the doorframe.
“My shoulder! Damn! You bitch!”
I held the gun on her, wondering how I was going to control her and retrieve my phone from the bedroom. Bella solved that problem for me—lurching and clutching her right shoulder with her left hand, she fled out the door. In her haste, she dropped a wicked looking knife.
Her brother hadn’t moved, but he moaned, so I knew he was alive.
Thank the Lord!
I kept my wits about me long enough to call 911, give the operator the address, tell her two people were shot, one fled. She kept talking, but I put the phone down, grabbed Gus who had wakened finally, and sobbed into his coat while he licked my face.
That’s how Conroy found us. He ran down the hall shouting my name.
“In here,” I said. Behind him I heard the clump of the walker, a muttered “Damn!” and then, “Conroy, I need help. Come get me. She’s my wife, dammit!”
I looked down the hall and saw that Mike’s way was blocked by Ben’s inert form. Conroy must have jumped over him. I ran to Mike, who threw the walker away and held me in his arms. Once in that wonderful comforting place I began to cry all over again. Mike stroked my hair, murmured reassurances, and let me sob.
Conroy was not so patient. “Okay, everyone. In the living room. We got business.”
The paramedics arrived and went straight to Ben. I couldn’t bear to look while they worked over him, and I put my hands to my ears to block what they were saying to each other. Gently, Mike took my hands down.
“It’s okay, Kelly. He’ll most likely live. You were a little wide on your shot”—he tried to grin—“and didn’t hit any vital organs.”
I slumped against him. “Bella?”
Conroy had stepped outside and now came back in. “They found her in her car about a block away, about to pass out from loss of blood. She’ll be okay, but her shoulder never will be any good. High and wide, Kelly.”
“The gun kicked on the second shot,” I said defensively. It was probably the first sensible thing I said, and I have no idea where it came from, but I remembered feeling the gun kick up as I fired that second shot. Thank goodness, or I might have killed her.
Mike pulled me to the couch and sat with me, while Conroy wandered into the kitchen. “You got anything stronger than wine?” he called.
“Bourbon,” Mike answered. “Top shelf, cupboard over the sink.”
Conroy brought me two fingers neat, with an order to sip. I did, but the warmth did little to cure the cold feeling that had come over me. I had shot two people. What would I tell the girls? How could I ever live with this? If either of them died—I put that thought aside. Mike said they wouldn’t.
Conroy waited patiently for maybe two minutes and then said, “Tell me what happened, minute by minute.”
I tried, my voice halting, and he interrupted with questions. My mind swam with little things I couldn’t remember. What was the first sound I heard? How long between the time they entered the house and the time Ben stepped into the hall?
“An eternity,” I said. And then for no reason added, “Mike, I think Gus is deaf. He didn’t bark, didn’t budge.”
He relaxed just a bit for the first time. “We’ll get his hearing checked, but not right now.”
“Forget the dog,” Conroy said harshly. “Do you realize these two punks meant to kill you?”
I stared at him. “The thought went through my mind. That’s why I shot.” I looked at Mike. “You were right about Bella all along. She’s beyond hope.”
He put his finger to my lips. “She won’t threaten you again. She’ll be gone for a long time.”
“There’ll be an investigation, and the house is a crime scene. Got to block it off.” Buck began to issue orders. “Mike, call Keisha. Have her get the girls when they get out of school and take them to their grandmother. Kelly, pack what you need to be away two days—for all of you. And decide where you’re going. House will be off limits.”
I was stunned. All I wanted was to go back to bed and hide forever, and he was telling me to pack my family for two days? I couldn’t believe it.
Conroy gentled a bit. “Kelly, I’m sorry. I understand how you feel. To shoot somebody kills a little bit of your soul, and you’ll probably never be quite the same person again. It makes you see life and death differently. But I can’t step in the way of police procedure.” He turned to Mike, “
Shandy
, find that damn walker and help this woman.”
Mike said grimly, “I can do it without the walker.” First he called Keisha, who said, “I knew she shouldn’t stay home. I was on my way over there. Got to listen to myself better.”
I grabbed the phone. “Keisha, don’t tell the girls I shot two people. God! I couldn’t bear for them to know that. Just tell them there was a problem at the house. Tell them Bella won’t be following us anymore. Take them for ice cream. Do whatever. Please?”
“You got it,” she said, “What do I need to do for you? I’m
kickin
’ myself over here. I should have come babysat you. Wouldn’t have been no gunfire.”
Mike grabbed the phone. “It’s too late for ‘what if,’ Keisha. Call Nana and Claire and Anthony, please. But tell them no visitors. We don’t even know where we’ll be.”
“You’ll be at Miss Cynthia’s house. Ain’t no choice about that.”
She was right. The four of us moved in with Mom. She would have it no other way. Mike and I took the guest room bed, and the girls both slept with Mom. Keisha brought the girls, who were puzzled and upset even without knowing that their mother had shot two people.
“Why can’t I go home?” Maggie wailed. “My pajamas are there.”
“I brought your pajamas,” I said. “We’re all going to have a sleepover at Nana’s.”
Em didn’t brighten much at the prospect.
“Something bad happened, Maggie,” Em replied calmly, “and they don’t want us to know about it.”
Mike and I exchanged looks and realized we had to tell the girls the truth. If they thought we were hiding something, they’d never trust us again. So we all sat down, and I told them my story. “This morning, after I took you to school and Mike to the substation, I went back home to take a nap. While I was sort of half asleep, Bella and her brother, Ben, broke into our house. They meant to harm me, and I…I shot them.”
Maggie gasped and hugged me tight, but Em asked, “Are they dead?” Her little voice was so calm and the look on her face so…oh, I don’t know…inquisitive, unemotional. She was almost clinical. It made me bury my face in my hands.
“No, Em, they’re both in the hospital. They’re going to be all right, but they’re going to jail for a long time.”
“We don’t have to worry about that green car following us?” Maggie asked.
“No, no green car.” Some deep instinct made me add, “But we still have to be afraid.” After all, Tom
Lattimore
hadn’t called. Maybe instead of worrying about him, I should be worrying about his plans for me and my family. Maybe the two goons who beat Otto up would take over where Bella and Ben had failed. The possibilities for danger were endless.
Keisha appointed herself phone monitor. Everyone in the world called—Claire wanted us to come to her house because it was larger, Anthony wanted to come see for himself that I was alright—I nearly told him I would never be alright again. Joe melted my heart when he said, “Tell Miss Kelly, when she feels better, not even to think about going to the Garzas’ house. I’ll go up there before I go to work tomorrow. I know the things to say to her. She knows about her kids, and I’ll make her accept it.” Joe knew that a visit to Mrs. Garza would be on my mind. Keisha did allow one visitor—Claire, who brought dinner and wine for all of us. Mom was too upset to cook.
We ate roast beef and mashed potatoes and salad on disposable plates, drank wine out of plastic cups, and threw the whole thing in the trash. No cleanup. Claire left, saying, “Call me in the morning. The world will look better to you.”
We urged Keisha to go home and get some sleep. We’d be safe with Mike there and José patrolling. She insisted she wasn’t budging. “It ain’t over yet. I’m the fat lady, and I haven’t sung yet. I’m sleeping on the couch.”
Mike knew better than to protest.
I pestered Mike every half hour to call JPS and check on the condition of the Garzas. Ben had been rushed into surgery, but Conroy was right. I hadn’t hit any vital organs, though the bullet had nicked his intestine and they took out his appendix while they were in there. He’d have the usual slow recovery from abdominal surgery, but he’d live to stand trial.
“Trial?”
“For breaking and entering, attempted murder. Conroy will probably drum up some other charges. Ben’s a juvenile but not for long. He’ll end up in Huntsville or some similar facility. Bella will face the same charges and will go to prison. They’re out of our lives, Kelly.”
“But why? Who? What?” I sounded like advice given to a rookie newspaper reporter, but there was too much missing from this story. There was someone bigger behind this, someone who paid Ben and Bella to stalk me and probably to kill me. Tom
Lattimore
must hold the clue, I thought. “Mike, Tom
Lattimore
never called me back.”
He shrugged. “Kelly, I was worried about him. But right now my concern is my family. Tom
Lattimore
can damn well fend for himself.”
I literally fell into bed about eight, leaving Mom to get the girls to bed and Mike to help himself. I thought I’d sleep for a lifetime.
Mike’s phone rang in the night. When he answered it with “
Shandy
,” I felt a cold chill shoot through my body. He mumbled a few things like, “Okay,” “Yeah, we’ll talk tomorrow.” Nothing that revealed what was going on.
