Murder Walk

by Melissa Bowersock

  A bullet plugged the floor in front of it. That time, Lacey even saw the flare of muzzle fire in the darkness. Rod was behind the games directly across the aisle from her.

  She sat very still for a moment and thought. Where was Sam? She knew how stealthy he could be. If she could just keep Rod busy…

  She pulled her pack to her; she’d forgotten the strap was still around one shoulder as she’d scooted across the floor. She dug in it. Cell phone, notebook, pens, her handcuffs, ChapStick, her wallet.

  She pulled out the ChapStick and tossed it over the game across the aisle. It hit the floor with a small clatter.

  “What the—?”

  The muttered voice helped her zero in on Rod’s location. She tossed a pen. Another light clatter.

  “Would you—quit it!” Annoyance in his voice. She threw another pen, a paperclip, her small notebook.

  “What the—Hey!”

  She muffled a snort. As long as her supply of pens lasted, she could keep pestering him, keep poking at him, like a mosquito buzzing around. She thought she heard a small sound to her left, not the same place Rod’s voice came from. Sam was moving in.

  She dug for more pens, but she was out. What now? Throw her phone? Her wallet? Ah—pennies! She emptied the coin section of her wallet into her hand and began tossing one or two at a time. They hit consoles, then bounced down between to the floor, just like a pinball machine.

  “All right, you motherfucker, I’ve had enough of your bullshit. You just keep going.”

  She heard movement; a shadow passed in front of blinking lights. She grabbed a fistful of coins and tossed them. They bounced and rolled across the floor.

  Gunshots rang out, the bullets whizzing past the left side of her console shelter. She inched right. Her console was the last before the open space where Bret lay. She moved to the right side of the machine and huddled up against it.

  More shots, all left of her. He was moving; she could tell by the direction of the sound. He was coming closer. How many shots had he fired? She’d lost count. Had no idea what size magazine he had, either, or if he had extras.

  She heard footsteps now, close, quiet. She pressed against the side of the game machine and held her breath. As she stared at the floor in front of the machine, she noticed the faint, flickering reflection of colored light from distant games.

  Suddenly the floor went dark.

  Shoes stopped directly in front of her.

  She raised her head, and stared up into the muzzle of a gun.

  “You’re not him,” Rod ground out through clenched teeth. “but you can die anyway.”

  Lacey squeezed her eyes shut.

  She heard a thud at the same time the gun fired; the concussive sound wave slammed her eardrums. Bodies hit the floor heavily, forcing a sharp “oof” from one. The gun clattered across the floor. She opened her eyes.

  The two men were joined together in a rolling, thrashing ball. Arms flew, legs kicked. Punches landed with muted thuds, and heavy breaths were sucked in or blown out.

  The gun glittered dully just a few feet away.

  She scrambled for it as the men fought, grabbed it and crawled back behind the console and got to her feet. Bracing her arms on the console, she leveled the gun at the punching, jabbing bodies locked together.

  “I’ve got the gun,” she called out. “You’re done, Rod. Give it up.”

  A loud grunt, renewed scuffling. The crack of a fist hitting bone.

  She raised the gun straight up and fired. For a split-second the muzzle flash lit up the scene, but then darkness prevailed. She couldn’t see who was where. Pieces of plaster and plastic rained down from the ceiling. She heard a heavy thud, a moan, and then silence punctuated by harsh, raspy breathing.

  “Lacey.” Sam’s voice, breathing hard. “Go get the lights.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. Turn on the lights.”

  She ran for the front, scanned the walls for switches. There. She sprinted to them and bashed the whole row upward with the heel of her hand. The place exploded with light.

  Sirens wailed outside, getting closer, louder. The strobe of a light bar flashed rhythmically through the window.

  She jammed the gun in the back of her waistband and sprinted back to Sam.

  He was sitting on Rod, his knee in the teen’s back. He had Rod face down and held both arms behind his back.

  “You got your cuffs?” Sam asked.

  “In my pack.” She reached under the last machine and pulled her pack out, found the cuffs and brought them over. Sam held Rod’s wrists up, with a firm jerk to remind him who was in control, and Lacey closed the cuffs around them.

  The bell on the front door dinged.

  “Lacey? Sam?”

  “Back here, Tommy,” she called. “The shooter’s in cuffs. Come and get him.”

  ~~~

  FOURTEEN

  Saturday morning, Sam stood at the front door and jingled his car keys.

  “Lace? You ready? We got a lot to do.”

  “Coming.” She wiped her mouth and put her toothbrush in the holder, then grabbed her pack as she walked through the living room. “Ready,” she said. “Let’s go.”

  The kids were waiting for them. As soon as they pulled into the parking lot, the kids were out the door—all three of them. Kenzie ran ahead while Daniel and Tori came behind, holding hands and playfully bumping into each other as they walked.

  “Hi, guys,” Lacey said as they all piled into the back seat. “Hey, Tori. How you doing?”

  “Fine, Mrs. Firecloud,” the girl replied. She glanced at Sam. “Oh, Mr. Firecloud! Oh, my God!”

  Sam turned slightly to give her a good look. His face was an artist’s palette of colors: purple, red, green and yellow. He had a small cut above one eye, already scabbing over.

  “Oh, my God,” she moaned again. “Are you okay?”

  “Fine,” Sam said. “Looks worse than it feels. Seatbelts, everyone?”

  Three clicks sounded from the back and Sam reversed out of the parking space. He turned the car down the street.

  “School first?” Lacey asked.

  “Yeah.”

  The school parking lot was empty as usual for a weekend, but even more so now that school was out for the summer. Sam parked near the gate. The kids were out in a flash, but then hung back. They waited for Sam and Lacey to lead the way.

  It was a beautiful morning. The sun had already burned off the morning clouds and the sky was azure blue. A light breeze cooled the air.

  They walked without a word through the gate, past the football field, to the quad. As they angled toward the place near the building wall, Lacey dropped back beside Kenzie.

  “Let’s wait here,” she told the two girls. Tori glanced at Daniel. He nodded, then released her hand and stepped up next to his dad. Lacey held her arm out to Tori and the girl moved up close beside her.

  Sam stared down at Daniel. “You ready?”

  Daniel looked up, squinting in the sun. “Yeah. I guess.”

  Sam lit a smudge stick. He shielded the lit fibers with his hand, turning the stick and blowing on it softly to get it going. When the smoke began to rise, he handed the bundle to Daniel.

  “What do I do?” Daniel asked.

  Sam put a hand on his shoulder. “Purify the area. Cleanse it. Bless it. Then tell Jason goodbye.”

  Daniel looked unsure.

  “Say whatever you want,” Sam said gently. “You can’t do it wrong.”

  The boy took a deep breath and stepped forward. Sam followed, but stopped a few feet short.

  Daniel raised the smudge stick and began to paint the air with long, slow strokes. He held the bundle low to the ground, then brought it up and held it high. The smoke dipped and waved, then, caught by the breeze, tore apart and drifted away. The fragrant cedar smell carried to Lacey and the girls.

  “Can I do some, too?” Kenzie whispered. Lacey circled both girls’ shoulders, one on either side, and hugged them gently.


  “Not today, honey. This is Daniel’s. You’ll get your turn another time.”

  Tori watched Daniel with awe.

  The boy made a slow circle around the area, his tennis shoes crunching on the gravel. When he completed the circle, he stood still, but glanced at his father. Sam nodded encouragement. Daniel bowed his head and began to speak, his words so soft they couldn’t be heard. His lips moved, and he squeezed his eyes shut. The smudge stick continued to smoke, the blue trail rising up into the sky.

  Lacey sent her own positive thoughts to Daniel, and Jason. She didn’t know the boy, but wished him well. She heard a sob catch in Tori’s throat, and rubbed the girl’s arm. Tori laid her head on Lacey’s shoulder, but kept her eyes on Daniel.

  He stopped speaking and pulled in a deep breath, then let it out, his thin chest lifting, then falling. He raised his head and looked around. His eyes swept the area, the unremarkable bit of gravel tucked behind bushes, next to the wall. With one final inhaled breath, one last look, he turned and walked to Sam. He handed his dad the smudge stick and joined Lacey and the girls.

  Tori slipped out from under Lacey’s arm and slid her own arm around Daniel. The boy ducked his head, but a smile curved his mouth. Tori kissed his cheek, and his face flamed.

  Sam joined them.

  “He’s gone?” Lacey asked.

  Sam nodded. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go.”

  The drive to the hospital was a quiet one. Sam parked the car and they trooped through the front door, filing into the elevator. At the second floor, they exited and Lacey began checking room numbers.

  “Two oh seven,” she said, pointing to a numbered door. She turned the latch and pushed the heavy door open carefully.

  Bret Russell glanced over, moving his head gingerly. His eyes widened at the five people who surrounded his bed. He had a bandage across the left side of his forehead, and a cast completely enveloped his left arm and shoulder. A sling held the arm still against his chest.

  “Hey,” Daniel said.

  Bret’s eyes darted from face to face, finally settling uneasily on Daniel’s. “Hey,” he said back.

  “How you feeling?” Daniel asked.

  Bret tried to shrug, then winced as the shoulder grabbed. “Okay,” he said.

  “We wanted to thank you,” Lacey said, stepping up behind Daniel. “For trying to warn us. We know you were as much a victim of Rod as Jason was. We know he was forcing you to threaten Daniel, to try to keep him quiet.”

  Bret swallowed and looked away.

  “And we know you tried to talk him out of shooting Jason,” Daniel said. When Bret looked up again, Daniel added, “Jason showed me that.”

  The boy’s eyes widened again, and his mouth hung open. “You could really… see that?”

  Daniel nodded. “Ghosts don’t lie.”

  Muted voices in the hall grew louder as the door swung open. Aldo and Cathy Perez walked in. Poor Bret looked terrified.

  Cathy crossed to Lacey and hugged her. “Thanks so much for calling me,” she said. “This has been such a relief.”

  Aldo pumped Sam’s hand, then tipped his head. “You’ve got quite a masterpiece going there.”

  Sam grinned. “You oughta see the other guy.”

  “Oh, we will,” Aldo said. “In court.” He turned to Bret. “We’ll see you there, too.”

  Bret couldn’t meet his eyes. “Yes, sir.”

  “We’ll ask the court to go easy on you. We know you tried to help Jason.” Aldo sighed. “We just wish you could have succeeded.”

  Bret glanced up quickly, then away. “Me, too, sir.”

  An uncomfortable silence descended over the group. Sam moved toward the door. “Well, we’re going to go. Good to see you folks again.”

  “Thank you so much,” Cathy said. She took Sam’s hand in both of hers. “For everything.”

  Daniel stepped forward. “Mrs. Perez?” She turned to him, a questioning smile on her face. “Jason’s okay. He told me to tell you that.”

  Cathy bit her lip, but silent tears still leaked out of her eyes. She took Daniel by the shoulders and hugged him. He returned the gesture shyly.

  “Thank you,” she whispered fiercely. She pulled back and laid a hand along Daniel’s cheek, as if it were her own son’s face. “Thank you.”

  ~~~

  At the pottery studio, everyone inspected the new additions.

  “You’re all set up?” Daniel asked.

  “Already made one pot,” Sam said. He retrieved it from the drying shelf and held it so all could see. “It needs work yet.”

  “Can we make something?” Kenzie asked.

  “Sure. You want to?”

  “Yeah!”

  Sam glanced at Daniel and Tori.

  “Yes, please!” Tori said. She poked Daniel in the ribs.

  “Okay. Come on in the supply room and we’ll get you all some clay.”

  The four of them crowded into the small bedroom-turned-supply room, but Lacey didn’t follow.

  “I’ll be right back,” she said. “I need to get something out of the car.”

  She went back outside and popped the hatch on the car. In the back was a large, flat rectangle, wrapped in brown paper. She pulled it out carefully, mindful of the corners. Once she’d freed it from the car, she pulled the hatch back down and carried her prize into the studio.

  All three kids were seated at the table, each with a lump of clay on the oilcloth in front of them. Sam was giving instructions.

  “We’ll start with a small pinch pot,” he said, but when Lacey produced the wrapped package, all eyes swiveled to her.

  “What’s that?” Sam asked.

  “It’s sort of a patron saint,” she said.

  “Patron saint?” Sam frowned.

  “Yeah. You know, someone to watch over the place.” She ripped the brown paper off, revealing only the back side of a picture set in a frame. A hanging wire spanned the back. With just a bit of fanfare, she held the picture up, then said, “Ta da!” and turned it around.

  “Who’s that?” Tori asked.

  Lacey angled the picture sideways so she could see it, too. Flowing red hair swirled across the background like Van Gogh’s Starry Night, and the woman’s voluminous robe of blue and green spilled into the foreground. Her emerald green eyes danced with wicked delight.

  “It’s Theodora!” Kenzie squealed.

  “Really?” Tori said. “That’s what she looks like?”

  “Apparently,” Lacey said. “It’s a self-portrait. Just a print—the originals are pretty pricey—but it’ll do. What do you think?” She held the picture up against the front wall. “This a good place?”

  Sam grinned. “That’s a great place.”

  Lacey stood the painting on the floor, leaning against the wall where they could all see it. She moved to Sam’s side and slipped an arm around him.

  “She likes it,” Daniel said.

  Tori laughed. She leaned toward Daniel and said in a mock whisper, “You have the coolest family.”

  Daniel’s face flamed. He cut a look at Kenzie, then back at Sam and Lacey.

  “Yeah,” he admitted grudgingly. “I do.”

  ~~~

  Thank You for Reading

  I sincerely hope you enjoyed reading this book as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you did, I would greatly appreciate a short review on Amazon or your favorite book website. Reviews are crucial for any author, and even just a line or two can make a huge difference.

  --MJB

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Melissa Bowersock is an eclectic, award-winning author who writes in a variety of fiction and non-fiction genres: contemporary, western, action, romance, fantasy and spiritual, satire and biography. She lives in a small community in Northern Arizona with her husband and an Airedale terrier.

  For more information, visit

  http://www.newmoonrising.net

  or

  http://www.melissabowersock.com

  Find Me Online
on Twitter and Facebook or visit my blog at:

  http://mjb-wordlovers.blogspot.com

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