by CeeCee James
“It is. This place is my life. I never wanted to move. That was all Ian. Still, I would have. Kicking and screaming, I would have. He’s done a lot for me, so I owed him. It’s amazing how sometimes situations feel like a prison sentence.”
I caught on to something there. Now, my intuition normally was about fifty-fifty. But this was so obvious no one could miss it.
Something had been very wrong in their marriage. It was too much to piece together, and to be in this house, where he died—where he was murdered—it felt too icky to try and sort through.
“Well, just take it easy on yourself while you figure things out. It’s a strange time,” I said.
She held up her water glass as though it had wine. “Cheers to that.”
I left her house a few minutes later, buckled myself in, and headed back to my second goal on my agenda. The Heritage Dispensary.
On my way there, I thought about the conversation the Clarks had said that they’d overheard. It was then that Jasmine had first mentioned serving a life-sentence. She’d also mentioned she thought she was pregnant. And Ian had denied it, saying he’d had a vasectomy.
I narrowed my eyes. If she’d meant that marriage was a life sentence, then it had dissolved pretty quick with an actual end of a life.
And how was the gardener involved? Jeffry. The Valentines said that he gardened for the Stubers as well. That he was there a lot. Charity said everyone loved him. He didn’t seem all that lovable when I met him.
Still puzzling over all of this, I drove through town in search of the address I’d found.
A few moments later, I located it. Sunday was a quiet day in town so parking was plentiful. I parked the car and walked over.
Immediately, disappointment hit me. The lights in the business were off and, as I walked closer, I saw a closed sign in the window. I sighed and started to turn back to the car when it occurred to me the sign was swinging. Just a tiny bit, but it made me hopeful that maybe the person was still in there.
I knocked on the door and then peered in the window. There was no one visible. I was about to give up when something prompted me to try the door handle.
It clicked under my hand, and the door swung open.
“Hello?” I called.
No answer.
There was music going.
“Anyone here?” I asked again.
The place inside was set up almost like a book store, and the scents… wow. Although it was dark inside, I smiled to see a shelf filled with books up on the support beam overhead. There was a sign that said, “Books for tall people.”
That was refreshing. It was nice to see a place that was professional but still maintained its sense of humor.
That was it… that’s what struck me about how Charity was describing the gardener’s natural alternatives, her voice was filled with devoted zeal.
I heard a small crash like someone had dropped a book onto a table. “Is someone here?”
It was then that I saw it. A foot. Someone was lying down behind the counter. “Are you okay?” I yelled, running over.
What I found made me cover my mouth in horror. There was a woman on the floor. She stared up with frightened eyes, tape over her mouth and her hands tied. She shook her head, her words muffled behind the tape. I leaned over and tried to ease a corner off.
“I’m here to help. I’m calling the police right now.”
“Run,” she whispered.
At that moment, the front door slammed behind me.
Chapter 23
My head jerked up at the sound as I held my breath to listen. The dark room only had a bit of light filtering in around the crowded displays in the windows. Below me, the woman’s eyes were wide, and she started to struggle. I waved my hand to try and silence her muffled cries.
Could it have been a draft that caused the door to shut? I didn’t hear anything more, but I was too scared to peek over the top of the counter. I tipped my ear.
Nothing.
And then a tap. Tap. Tap. Silence again.
The music played loudly. I mentally cursed at the person who had left it on. I couldn’t hear anything more.
I scurried to the end of the counter. Cautiously, I peeked around the corner, searching for feet. Specifically, high heels.
That was the clinking noise I’d heard, I was sure. The tap of a heel on the floor, its sound only made by a very thin stiletto.
There was nobody there.
I eyed the front door which seemed a galaxy away. I needed to get over there, but how? Was it safe? Had she left?
Slowly, I eased my way back past the poor woman on the floor. With my hands, I indicated that I was going to call for help. I crept down the length of the counter and peeked around the other end.
It was clear.
There were aisles in front of me, set up like a book store. If I could get in there, I wouldn’t be as trapped. Right now, hiding behind this counter, I was like a bug caught under a cup.
Could the woman stalking me see in this dim light? I was having a hard time, so my guess was that she did as well. My muscles tensed, readying me to spring forward.
“I couldn’t find the receipt, so I destroyed the computers.” A man’s voice. It came from the back room.
I jerked down at the sound.
“Shh,” cautioned the woman. The stillness that followed pressed heavily on me as if it were a physical thing. The shallow gasps I was taking weren’t sufficient. I gasped faster, feeling like I couldn’t breathe.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“Seems like we might have a mouse,” she said. There was a sharp, metallic click. I recognized the voice.
Celeste.
I recognized the click as well. Someone had pulled the hammer back on a pistol.
My heart thudded harder than it ever had before. If I didn’t get out from behind here, I would be boxed in. I searched in the gloom for something, anything, that might help.
“What do you want me to do?” asked the man, moving closer.
Under the counter was a shelf of bottles. At his voice, I grabbed one and threw it hard down the counter in the opposite direction from myself. Then I ran.
My target was the door in the back of the room. I raced for it, praying I’d get past the man. He was standing to the left and I felt the wind of his hands grabbing for me as I flew past him.
“Get out of the way!” Celeste screamed.
The gun went off. I nearly collapsed at the sound, sure that I’d been hit. My legs never stopped, propelling me forward and through the door.
I had two seconds on the other side to decide which direction I was going to go. There was no brightly lit exit sign like I had hoped. Instead, it was set up like a mini warehouse, complete with rows of metal shelving. And nearly pitch black, the only light coming from a single bulb in the office where the radio was. I darted to the left and raced down a few rows, looking for a place to hide. I just needed time to call 911.
Time was running away.
I ducked behind a box to listen. Did I hear the door open just now? I covered my mouth and nose, trying to stop my gasping. My lungs heaved for air.
I heard a sound to my right and spun to look. Celeste’s silhouette darted behind a shelf. How did she get over there?
It was then that I realized she must have removed her shoes. The thought of her tip-toeing on bare feet, unheard, brought a cold sweat. I couldn’t risk being heard either and carefully slipped off mine.
The laminate floor was cold under my feet. Ice cold. It seeped through my socks and into the pads of my heels and toes, where it met epinephrine-fueled blood.
I didn’t dare search my purse for my phone. I couldn’t risk making a sound. I peered through the shelving, searching for her. It was too dark to see much of anything.
Quietly, I moved to the end of the aisle. I peeked around. There it was! Finally! The exit sign.
A shadowy figure passed under it. I ducked. Were they both in here with me? I doubted it. I cou
ldn’t hear anything, and I didn’t think the man would be so silent.
Which hardly helped me in the situation with a gun.
The aisles were set up as straight chutes toward the back of the building. Once I chose an aisle to run for the exit, there was nothing for it but to race to the end. And I couldn’t outrun a bullet.
What had happened to that poor woman? Was the man out there with her? Would he hurt her?
I forced myself to forget about her. My escaping was her only chance, and mine as well. I needed to focus. Gritting my teeth, I struggled to fight back the fear.
Where was Celeste, now? My thighs trembled from my crouched position. I could barely stand the pain. I moved to ease my weight when my shoulder brushed what must have been a trash can. The plastic bin scraped several inches across the cement floor.
Did she hear that over the music?
I had to do it now. Had to make the phone call whether she could hear me or not. There was no more time. Slowly, I eased my phone out of my purse. My heart pounded so hard I could hear rushing in my ears. Adrenaline had kicked in again and now was on overdrive. I typed in my password, flinching as my shaking fingers hit the wrong numbers.
I tried again and my phone locked once more. Frustration filled me. This was a living anxiety dream.
Calm down. Focus. I typed one more time.
“Stella…” Celeste said, nearly in my ear. I jerked. She was on the other side of the shelf. I hadn’t heard her approach. “Let’s talk. Come out. I’m not going to hurt you.”
I hid the phone against my chest, trying to shield the light. Did she see it? She had to have. Breathing out slowly, I eased down the other end of the aisle.
“911. What’s your emergency?”
Crap! I threw the phone but not before the gun went off. BANG. I screamed and punched my hands over my ears. Uncontrollable tremors overtook my legs.
Get up, Stella. Get up, now.
I rolled to my hands and knees and started to crawl. I could hear Celeste now. She was headed in the direction I threw the phone. I rounded the corner and past several more aisles.
“Jeffry!” Celeste screamed. “Jeffry get in here and help me!”
I saw the exit sign and ran as fast as I could. As if hell hounds were at my feet. I had to get down this aisle before they saw me.
I know they heard me.
“Over here, Jeffry!” Celeste called, her voice closer now.
My socks slipped on the laminate, and I nearly fell. I grabbed the shelf, knocking bottles and boxes to the floor with a horrific clatter.
The gun went off again. I was so close. Almost there.
“Stop her, Jeffry!” she screamed.
Heavy footfalls came behind me. Feet moving faster because the shoes had purchase against the floor.
Every bit of my track knowledge came to play. Muscle memory ignited, and I had another burst of speed.
Just seconds to the door.
My hand grazed the doorknob. Relief flooded me, quickly dashed as a hand grabbed me by the back of my shirt.
“Got you,” his hoarse voice whispered in my ear.
Not so fast. I spun around and struck out with the heel of my hand, connecting with his nose. He shouted, cursing. I didn’t look to see what damage I had done. As his hand loosened on my shirt I was already turning back and twisting the knob.
Bright light blinded me. I stumbled through, already searching for which way to go.
A voice froze me in my tracks. “Get to the ground, Hollywood!”
Chapter 24
Officer Carlson stood in a crouched sideways stance, gun drawn. I dropped to my knees, hands up.
The skin on my back crawled. I was dead center in front of the open doorway. What was happening? Was he going to force me to surrender while Celeste shot me from her hiding place inside?
His gaze was intense, and I realized then, that he wasn’t staring at me. He was staring right into the storehouse. He skirted around me until he was at the side of the entrance.
“Stella, move from the doorway,” he commanded quietly.
I eagerly did, half crawling, half rolling until I was out of the way.
When I looked back, Carlson had disappeared inside.
So he knew the bad guy was still inside? How had he found me? Did they trace the 911 call? I climbed to my feet, ready to run. I wasn’t sure what to do next. Did he need help?
I hesitated, wondering if I should run for a phone.
“Police! Get down!” Carlson screamed. There was a sound of boxes falling and metal clattering.
“Jeffry!” Celeste shrieked.
And then…silence.
My heart pounded. What if they came running through that door? They’re going to run smack into me! That thought ignited my feet to move. I found a dumpster and crouched behind it.
The cold air had a greasy scent of old French fries, and I shivered. The silence was nearly intolerable. What was going on in there?
A second later, gunshots split the air. I screamed. Who had shot the gun? Celeste? Carlson? My worst fears played in my mind of Officer Carlson in there, bleeding, while the two of them came out to hunt for me. Hot tears burned my eyes at my complete helplessness to do anything about it.
That’s it, I’m running for help. It took every last ounce of courage I had to get up and be once again in line of sight of the door. I stared at the opening, like a wild animal, and edged along the building wall until I was at the corner. Then I ran like my life depended on it.
Or Officer Carlson’s.
The first door I tried was locked. “Closed on Sundays,” it said in cheery letters.
“Please! No!” I cried, beating the door. I darted away to the next one, which had also closed early for the day.
I couldn’t believe this. My breath was coming in hot pumps as I ran as fast as I could. I’d tried to flag down a car, but they raced away, honking at me. Was there no one to help?
Finally, I spied the giant doughnut slowly spinning. Darcy’s Doughnuts. I raced over there and ripped the door open. It bounced back against its hinges and everyone inside stared at me, some in mid-bite.
“Please!” I gasped, out of breath. “Please! Someone call 911. There’s been a shooting at the Heritage Dispensary. The gunman is still inside!”
No one moved.
“Please! He could be dying!” I begged.
That spurred some action. A mother sitting at the table with her two young children quickly dialed. In nervous stuttering, she relayed what I said, eventually, handing the phone over to me.
“They want to talk with you,” she whispered, staring at me as though she were afraid it was me that was the wild gunman.
I took her phone. “Please. Everything she said is true. And Officer Carlson is inside. He went in after them, and a gun went off. He might have been shot.”
Most of the doughnut shops patrons were at the window, straining to see if they could spot something. The mother called her children away.
“Stay on the line please,” said the operator.
I nodded, before realizing she couldn’t see me. “I’ll try. This isn’t my phone. I’m at Darcy’s Doughnuts right now.”
“Stay on the line,” she warned.
The mother overheard and reached over to pull out a chair. I sank down, gratefully. Someone else came over with a cup of coffee. I even had a glazed doughnut passed my way.
But I couldn’t think of anything but help coming. “Are they on their way?” I begged the operator.
“They’re en-route. Stay put.”
I didn’t know how much more ‘put’ I could stay. I was antsy like I’d just finished a carafe of espresso.
“There it is!” someone called.
I listened. Tears sprung into my eyes at the sweet sound of sirens. “They’re here. I can hear them. Thank God!”
“That’s good. Stay with me,” the operator said calmly.
We watched the cars flash by. One. Two. They kept coming. Five. Six. Then a
n ambulance raced after them, making my heart leap into my throat. I turned away from the window, feeling queasy. Please let that cop be okay.
Chapter 25
Officer Carlson gave me a little wave as I hurried over to the Heritage Dispensary. I was jumbled in among a crowd of onlookers, and the police had their hands full trying to keep us away. It’s amazing he even saw me. Of course, it’s possible that when I saw him, the relief was so strong that I screamed his name.
One second later, I was embarrassed, but not by much. I was deeply grateful the guy didn’t die running in after some bad guys that had shot at me.
He did get shot though. Two paramedics helped him up on the stretcher while he tried to shoo them away. His legs were too long for the thing and his feet hung over like boat anchors.
Once he was settled, he waved me over. “Daniels! Let her through. She’s a witness.”
His partner cleared a path for me to get past the barricades. When I finally reached the stretcher, a paramedic was trying to put a blanket around Carlson’s shoulders. He pushed it away with a scowl.
“Are you okay?” I asked, trying to see his injury. His left arm was bound and held in a sling.
“Just a flesh wound.” He shrugged nonchalantly.
“They say that in real life? I thought that was only in cheesy adventure flicks.”
“You would know, Hollywood.”
“Where are…?” I glanced around for Celeste and Jeffry.
“Those two are over there.” He jerked his head in the direction of two more ambulances. “They’ll be slowed down for a while. At least for their trial. Fired on me, so they got what they deserved.”
“Well, they fired on me too,” I said, and then cringed, realizing I sounded like I was one-upping him.
“Yeah. And you got away. That’s impressive.” His dark eyes studied me. Did I detect a sparkle of respect in them?
“Why were you there?” I asked. “Did you guys track down my phone call?”
“Track down your… girl, you really do watch a lot of movies, don’t you? No, I did this thing called deducing. It’s kind of part of my job.”