Under the Cypress Moon (57 page)

Mark waited for Dan and the other officer to meet him a block away from the police station and quickly led them to the motel.  The officers were to wait a block away from the motel, in an unmarked car, and await Mark's signal before coming to arrest Sara.  They hoped that their street clothes would not give them away as they approached.  Dan and his partner were, after parking, to separate and walk in opposite directions to points within view of the motel parking lot.  One officer would come from the north and another from the southeast, both appearing to be walking down the street. 

"Remember, guys," Mark reminded Dan and the other officer, "Wait til you see me light my cigarette.  I'll give you a few minutes before I do."

"Good," Dan remarked.  "Sounds good.  We'll conceal our weapons, but if you see her try to run before we get there, we're countin' on you to help out.  Be ready to chase her down if you have to."

"Will do, Dan.  Now, we gotta get goin'.  Don't wanna be late."

Mark pulled up in the Pine Tree Lodge parking lot at eight-twenty-eight, with a nervousness in his stomach that was enough to make him vomit.  He dreaded what he was going to have to do and hated it that he had already had to lie and would have to tell more lies, even if they were to Sara, a woman that had so betrayed his trust and insulted him at every turn.

Mark stepped from his truck, anxious to get things finished and get Sara out of his life.  He thought that maybe, one day, he would see if Sara had been prosecuted and convicted, and if so, he might even go to visit her in prison or a state hospital, whichever she got sent to, but for some time, he would try to forget that she even existed once the ordeal was ended. 
"Hey, Sara," Mark snappily greeted the woman.  He wanted to make everything seem believable and assumed that Sara would expect him to be a bit snippy.  He didn't have to act at all.  Part of him wanted to knock Sara to the ground.

"Hi, Mark.  So, are you really gonna give me half the estate?"

"Maybe.  It is a lot of money.  I thought maybe we could talk some figures," Mark replied, cringing at the sight of his so-called sister.

"You said half," Sara screamed.

"I said maybe half, maybe as much as half.  If I do give you half, it's gonna take a long time to get you the money.  I can't sell the plant.  I mean, I literally cannot sell it.  The company charter won't allow me to sell.  I could maybe pay you so much a year or a month until I've paid you half of what the estate is currently worth.  It might take til the day I die, but you'd be completely set for life!  This is the only way I could even try to do this.  But I need you to agree that you are never gonna sue me for any reason."

"So what... I'd get like a big check every month from you until I die?  We're talkin' about millions and millions of dollars?"

"Yeah.  I figure maybe two million dollars a year for life, which means you'd actually get more than half of what the estate is currently worth.  You'd get two million, every year, or broken down monthly, forever."  Mark, of course, meant none of it.  Hopefully, he thought, Sara would find her way to prison or a hospital very soon, but if not, Mark would spend every penny he had or ever would have to fight her.  She would get nothing, if he could help it, daughter of Thomas Crady or not.

"Ok.  We could do that, but I want it in writing, from your lawyer!  I want it soon!  Go tomorrow, and have him write all this up.  I'll sign whatever, and we can go from there.  Make sure that I get something very soon.  I just lost a lot of my money on somethin'.  What I have now isn't gonna last."

"Yeah.  Absolutely.  I'll go first thing in the morning.  I really didn't want anything to have to come to all this.  We could've worked somethin' out together sooner and didn't have to let things get so bad, ya know.  We could've made sure that we could be a family and not fight and stuff. "  Mark took a long, awkward pause before continuing, to buy time.  "I wish things had been different, Sara.  I really do."

"Yeah, well, whatever.  But you know, you didn't  have to hire a private investigator to follow me around.  That was wrong of you!  I do not appreciate that!  Why'd you do that anyway?"  Sara looked almost hurt, but Mark wondered if she were capable of feeling anything at all or of displaying it if she did.

"Sorry about that.  I needed to see what you were up to and see if I could find something to get you to agree to back off and not sue me.  I wanted to try to work somethin' out and give you your fair share.  The way it happened was just too much.  That was all it was.  I wanted to convince you to do this, what we're doin' right now, talkin' things out.  Anyway, it's all said and done now."  Mark happily pulled a cigarette out of his pack and put it to his lips.  As he lit it, he saw Brady and the other officer slowly moving from the shadows and converging on the place.

Mark felt a deep relief wash over him as the two men neared.  Sara knew that something was wrong from the way that Mark acted and his constant looking from side to side. 

"What's goin' on?  Why do you keep looking all around," Sara demanded to know.

"No reason really.  I thought I saw somebody, though maybe it was a friend of mine.  It looked like him a ways off.  Anyway, I guess we don't have any more to talk about, huh?  I should probably get goin'."  At that moment, Dan Brady rushed to within twenty feet of Sara while Officer Mike Hardeman came from the other side, within thirty feet. 

Sara saw that the men walked in her direction and wondered what was happening.  Fearing the worst, she ran for her car but was run down by Mark, throwing her against the car before she could get into it.  "You son of a bitch!  You set me up!" 

Mark could not hold back his words, feeling that Sara must be warned to stay put.  "Don't even try to run, Sara.  I got a gun.  You're had.  You know it.  I know about Macon, about the robberies and the other charges.  You're gonna go away and get the help you need.  You need a doctor!"

"No, Mark.  You're gonna need a doctor if you don't let go."  With that, Sara pulled a twenty-five caliber Browning pistol from her waist and pressed it to Mark's stomach, pulling the trigger before any more could be said or done.

Brady and Hardeman rushed in, Brady throwing himself against the car next to Sara's while Hardeman secured himself against the side of the building.

"Sara Kenner," Dan Brady announced, "Throw down the weapon and step away from the vehicle.  There are officers on either side, ready to shoot!  More are on their way!  You will not come out of this alive if you do not comply.  We are prepared to fire to kill.  I repeat, throw down your weapon!"

Sara pushed Mark away from her car and ducked inside, peeling out of the parking lot as Hardeman called in the shooting and Sara's evasion.  Four officers were quickly in pursuit of Sara.  Unfortunately, Hardeman only knew the make and model of Sara's car but not the license plate number.  He hoped that a red mid-2000s Grand Prix
that was full of bullet holes would be easy to spot. 

As Sara fled, but before she could get out of the motel's parking lot, Dan Brady fired all thirteen rounds from his Glock forty caliber twenty-three pistol in her direction.  All but four of the rounds passed through the vehicle.  Unbeknownst to anyone but Sara, one of the bullets pierced through the driver's-side door and into her leg.  Brady, however, wished that he had gotten an ample opportunity to shoot out one of Sara's tires.

Sara was on the loose.  Mark was still on the ground, shot through his gut and bleeding out profusely.  Brady tried to stop the bleeding with Mark's shirt, pressing his hands firmly on the wound.  It was not a big enough wound for Mark to necessarily bleed to death, but no chances could be taken.  Now, Brady had a vendetta against Sara Kenner.  He vowed to Mark that he would never rest until Sara was caught and prosecuted.  Surely, Sara's claims against the estate had now ended, but Mark's life hung in the balance.

Chapter 26

Mark was soon taken to the hospital to remove the bullet from his stomach.  Dan Brady immediately notified Shylah of the shooting and its aftermath.  Shylah was beside herself.  She had no idea what to do and worried that she would lose the love of her life and father of her child before being able to at least say goodbye.  She had no way of getting to the hospital without getting a ride from someone. 

When Shylah informed her brother of what happened, he dropped his phone and fell to his knees, leaving Shylah to wonder what was happening.  She screamed into the phone for her brother to pick up and to come to get her so that they could be with Mark.  Darius soon noticed what had happened and picked T.L's phone from the floor, letting Shylah tell him everything.  He quickly hung up and slapped his son across the face to snap him out of his daze.

"Boy, you gotta get up and go get your sister!  Go now!  Get your ass up from that floor, Boy!  Get up!"  No matter what Darius said, T.L. could not bring himself around to remove himself from his prostrate position.

Darius tried time and again to get T.L. to rise.  T.L. was so lost in prayer and confusion that he could not hear any of it.  It soon necessitate the help of Pearlina who tried coaxing, yelling, even rubbing T.L.'s back and begging him to come to and help his sister and best friend.  It finally took Darius and Pearlina grabbing T.L. under his arms and attempting to lift him for him to come back to reality.  When he realized what was occurring, T.L. ran from the house and sped down the driveway and headed toward Mark's house, traveling as fast as his truck would travel.

T.L. felt so grateful that he was not stopped by a policeman, sometimes, reaching speeds of eighty miles per hour on narrow country roads. 
When he arrived at the house, Shylah was waiting on him outside and quickly pulled herself into the truck, the two of them barreling back down the drive and onto the gravel road beyond it, reaching the county highway in less than two minutes.  T.L. never slowed the truck to less than sixty, even on the narrowest and most populated of streets, including the main street of town.  Before long, he saw flashing lights in his rearview mirror and stopped his truck at the north end of town.  He knew that he had serious explaining to do, but everyone, including all of the police officers, knew him very well and already knew of Mark's having been shot.  Surely, T.L. reasoned, no matter who the officer was, he or she would understand and let him go.  Unfortunately, it turned out to be a state policeman that stopped him. 

"Where the hell you headed so damn fast, Buddy," the officer demanded, shining his light into T.L.'s eyes.

"Sir, my best friend was shot.  This is his fiancée here.  We have to get to the hospital right now, Sir!  I'm sorry for speeding, but this is an emergency," T.L. screamed, not even realizing the tone or volume of his voice.

"That so, huh?  I reckon you're talkin' about the shooting a little while ago at the Pine Tree Lodge, huh?"

"Yes, Sir.  That is exactly it.  The victim's name is Marcus James Crady, twenty-six.  You can check on it.  This is his fiancée, my sister, Shylah King.  Ask anyone.  They'll tell you.  We have to go right now.   Please write me whatever ticket you want, but we have to go!"

"No, Sir," the officer replied, smacking his lips as he chewed his gum.  "No, Sir, I will not write you a ticket.  I heard about the shootin', and I'm damn sorry.  You get right on to the hospital.  I'll give you an escort!  You just let me get on ahead of you, and you follow me!  We'll blow through any stop signs along the way.  You just keep on up with me there!"

T.L. and Shylah were both annoyed that they had been stopped, and though incredibly worried, very happy to now have a police escort.  They knew that Mark would not be out of surgery or awake any time soon, but they knew that they must be there, just in case.  Darius and Pearlina agreed that they would soon be on their way to the hospital as well, but T.L. and his sister did not want to take any longer that physically required to get there. 

Shylah tried, desperately, to keep from cursing Sara, but no matter how she tried, she just couldn't hold back.  "That little bitch, she's gonna get it!"

"Whacha mean, Shy?  What can you do to her?  The law's already tried.  You gotta let go and let God.  The cops'll get her!  Trust me!  You know as good as I do that Dan Brady ain't about to let this go!  He'll hunt her to the ends of the Earth!"

"Well, he better," Shylah yelled.  "He better find her and throw her ass away for good!  She's trash and needs thrown in the trash can!  If I get near her, I'll beat her and strangle her to death!  I'll do so much worse than I did to her that day at the house!  I beat that bitch somethin' terrible, and I ain't afraid to do a thousand times worse to her if I get ahold of her!"

"Oh, I know you will, Sis," T.L. agreed.  "I know how you are.  You'll cut her open, skin her from head to toe, and fry her up like a catfish.  I know what you can do, and I don't blame ya for wantin' to, but let's just get through this night.  I'm just as scared as you are.  I'm sayin' like a hundred silent prayers about this every minute!  I'm worried about Mark.  I can't lose my best friend, and you can't lose your husband and father to your child."

"Husband," Shylah confusedly asked.

"Well, you're havin' a baby together.  You're engaged.  You might as well say husband.  He's gonna be your husband real soon.  It can't hurt to call him that, and if you have to, you tell the people at the hospital that he IS your husband!  Ok?"