The Shooting

by Chris Taylor

  How could they be talking about love? They’d only just met. But somehow, with Tom it didn’t matter. She nodded.

  “Yes, I do. I absolutely believe in love.” She paused and then grabbed hold of her courage and the next few words came out in a rush. “How about you?”

  Tom picked up his beer. The bottle was halfway to his lips when his progress halted and he set the drink aside. Lily swallowed her surprise.

  “My mom and dad have been married for more than twenty years. They still kiss, they still hold hands. In fact, I’d say they’re more in love than ever. They have a quiet respect and understanding of each other that transcends even time. It’s special to watch and be a part of. It’s something I’ve always yearned for myself and I’m not prepared to settle until I have it.”

  His expression was open and vulnerable and she felt his hunger all the way through to her heart. And then he blinked and shook his head as if to clear it and his lips quirked upwards in a self-deprecating grin.

  “I’m sorry. I probably just gave you way too much information. We’re still getting to know each other, right? To give you the short answer, yes, I believe in love and I’m prepared to wait until I find it.”

  Lily slowly withdrew her hand from his. For all of their revelations, nothing changed the fact that he was a man who liked to drink and she didn’t fall for drinkers. As if he could read her thoughts, he spoke quietly again.

  “The night of Charlie’s party, I’d had a pretty difficult day. Hell, what am I saying? It was the worst day of my life. I’ve been a cop for two years and I’d never before seen what I did that day.” He shook his head and then added in a whisper, “And I pray to God I never see it again.”

  “What happened?” she asked softly.

  “We were called to a suspected murder-suicide. I’d been to a couple of suicides before, so I braced myself for what we were likely to find. No one warned us that three of the victims were kids.”

  Shock ricocheted through Lily. Her hands flew to her mouth and she couldn’t hold back a gasp.

  “Oh, Tom! No!”

  He nodded, his eyes dark with remembered pain. “It was a father and his three children. He’d gassed them in the family car. He made sure the deed was done by putting a shotgun in his mouth. It wasn’t a pretty sight.”

  Lily shook her head slowly back and forth, still trying to come to terms with the horror he’d endured.

  “You poor, poor man. How on earth did you deal with it?”

  His short burst of laughter sounded more like a bark and held none of his trademark humor.

  “Who says I dealt with it? What I did was got myself good and drunk. So drunk, that I fell over and then entertained the guests by vomiting in the bathroom, but for a little while that night, I forgot the faces of those children.” He shrugged apologetically. “Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing courageous about drinking yourself into oblivion, but it was all I could think of to do.”

  “Have they offered you any counseling?”

  “Of course and I’ve attended the mandatory sessions, but nothing’s going to change what happened or erase my memories. It’s just something I’m going to have to learn to live with. It’s part of the job.”

  He grimaced. “And as much as I hate to say it, there’ll be other times like this. It won’t be the last suicide or murder I see and sometimes, they’ll involve kids. Next time, I’ll remember to ask a few more questions beforehand, so I can be better prepared.”

  Lily’s heart filled to overflowing with respect and admiration for this special man. All of a sudden, the fact that he was drunk at the party didn’t matter so much. After what he’d been through that day, she could understand his need to forget, if even for a little while.

  His explanation, while not eradicating her lifelong vow not to get involved with a drinker, helped to soften it a little, until it wasn’t a black and white, non-negotiable instrument, but something blurred and much closer to gray—and now, she didn’t have a clue what to do.

  Tom filled the silence by reaching once again for her hand. Taking it between his two large ones, he held it firmly. When he spoke, his voice was full of such quiet sincerity that tears burned behind her eyes.

  “Knowing about your childhood, I get why you don’t like alcohol, or more specifically, men who like to drink. But not everyone is like your father. My dad enjoys a beer every now and then. Hell, occasionally he even gets drunk. But he doesn’t come home and belt my mom and he doesn’t punch holes in the wall. He doesn’t yell at his kids or kick the dog. He doesn’t do any of those things. It’s possible to drink and not be abusive.” He grinned ruefully. “It’s possible to drink and just fall down.”

  She stared at him, her heart in her throat. His smile slowly faded away. When he spoke again, his voice was little more than a murmur.

  “A few drinks here and there don’t have to end in fear and violence.”

  Lily gave up on trying to keep her tears at bay. They slid down her cheeks, one after the other, a silent witness to her pain. She bit back a sob and tried to explain.

  “I know there are men out there who can drink without turning into a monster. My stepfather’s one of them. While he doesn’t drink in my presence, I know he enjoys a glass of wine with his meal. He even has a beer or two, if he’s at a party or is entertaining guests. But the thing is, I’ve been terrified for so long at the thought of getting close to someone like my wretched dad. I don’t know if I can even think about setting that fear aside and even if I wanted to, I don’t know how.”

  Her voice cracked with emotion and her tears now fell with a vengeance. She was conscious of the other diners, but too upset to care. To her relief, Tom didn’t seem to care, either.

  Instead of looking embarrassed, his expression was filled with pain—as if he hurt for her as much as she hurt for herself and he wanted desperately to fix it. He pushed back his chair and came around to her side and then slowly drew her up into his arms. She leaned into his strong, broad chest and sighed.

  Home. It felt like she was home.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Chatswood, Sydney—present day

  Tom took a sip of his coffee and sighed in gratitude. “Thanks, Mom. You don’t know how much I needed that.”

  His mother smiled fondly at him from her place across the breakfast table. Marguerite Munro was in her mid-sixties, but looked at least a decade younger. She glowed with health and vitality, which was a comfort to Tom after the health scare they’d endured with his dad the previous Christmas.

  She and his father had arrived late last night from where they lived in the city of Grafton in northern New South Wales and had caught a taxi from the airport. They’d stopped in to see Lily at the hospital and then continued on to Tom and Lily’s comfortable, two-storey house in Chatswood.

  Outside the wide bay window that framed the modern kitchen, the day dawned bright and sunny. It was the kind of day that could lift anyone’s spirits and would have lifted Tom’s if his wife wasn’t gravely ill in the hospital. He’d already called Brandon, who’d maintained his vigil by Lily’s side throughout the night. There had been no change. Lily was still unconscious.

  Tom tried not to let Brandon’s words affect him, but he couldn’t help the fear that tightened his gut like a vise. What if she never woke up? What if this was as good as it was going to get?

  With a muttered curse, he forced the negative thoughts aside. There was no reason to think like that. The doctors and everyone surrounding her were still talking positively. There had been no mention that she might remain in a coma forever. He had to believe she was going to wake up again and offer him her usual sunny smile. The alternative was unthinkable and with steely determination, he refused to allow his thoughts to wander down that path again.

  “What time are you leaving for the hospital?”

  His mother’s question intruded into his thoughts and he welcomed the distraction. “As soon as I’ve finished my coffee, if that’s all right with you?”r />
  “Of course,” his father answered, making his way into the room. “We’re here for as long as you need us, son, and don’t worry about the kids. We’ll make sure they have everything they need.”

  Tom threw his father a heartfelt look of relief. “Thanks, Dad. And you too, Mom. I’m so grateful to both of you for being here. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  His mom pushed back her chair and came around to his side of the table. She patted him on the shoulder in a sign of comfort, like she used to when he was a kid.

  “Nonsense, Tom. You’d cope, just like you always do. Or one of your siblings would come to your rescue. You know how much they look up to you.” She shrugged. “You’re their oldest brother. They’d do anything for you.”

  Tom cleared his throat of the lump of emotion that threatened to choke him. “Yeah, well, thanks anyway. I-I really appreciate your help.”

  “Do you think Cassie and Joe will want to attend school today?” his dad asked.

  Tom frowned. “Let’s leave the decision up to them. They might prefer to stay at home, at least for the next day or so. Hopefully we’ll have good news about Lily by then.”

  “I’m sure you’re right, son. It wasn’t that long ago when I was the one lying in the ICU and everything turned out all right. These things take time. Leave it to the experts. They know what they’re doing.”

  Tom nodded agreement. “It’s funny, the doctor who operated on Lily yesterday was the same one who treated Alex when she was shot. How’s that for coincidence?”

  His mother frowned. “I thought she was treated at the Prince of Wales Hospital in Randwick?”

  “Yeah, you’re right,” Tom replied, remembering. “He must have transferred to the North Shore. I guess it was four years ago. People change jobs, get promotions.”

  “Well, he did good work on Alex. Let’s hope he has a similar result with Lily,” his mom said.

  “Yeah,” Tom murmured, wanting desperately to believe it. “Let’s hope.”

  * * *

  Cassie listened to the murmur of voices that drifted up from the kitchen to her bedroom second from the right at the end of the stairs, and tried not to think about why her grandparents had hopped on a plane overnight from Grafton. The knowledge that her mother had been shot by some weirdo fifth-grader at her mom’s school and now lay seriously injured in the hospital scared her to death. It just went to show how perilous life could be. Right when you thought everything was cruising along and life was back on track, it went and self-combusted and completely derailed itself again.

  It was four years since she’d been stalked online by a child predator and eventually kidnapped and terrorized by him and despite countless hours of intensive therapy, the memories were still there. The sheer panic and mind-numbing terror every time she thought about it had eased, but she could never forget what happened—or that the perpetrator had been someone close to her family. Her mother’s stepbrother, James Gibbons, was now serving a ten-year sentence. She’d been duped by him online into believing he was a cute teenager. That would never leave her.

  She shuddered to think about how many other innocent young girls would be taken in by the lies of online predators. Kids were so trusting. Her dad was a police officer. She’d been cautioned many times about the dangers of the Internet and still she’d become a victim.

  It had cured her penchant for surfing the Internet and dropping into online chatrooms. She didn’t even have a Facebook or Twitter account and Instagram and Snapchat had never been given a chance. Her therapist encouraged her to join at least one social media network, just to prove to herself that it was possible to be part of the Internet world without falling prey to a monster, but so far, she hadn’t found the courage to take that step, no matter how much not doing it limited her and her ability to socialize with her friends.

  Everyone was on Facebook. There were always stories about funny photos posted on Instagram, but still she resisted. If that isolated her from her peers, then so be it. She wasn’t prepared to take the risk of becoming a victim yet again.

  Her parents understood and were supportive, but even they had weighed in on the issue not long after she’d turned seventeen. Being online was now a part of life. She couldn’t do any of her school assignments without logging on and using the Internet to research.

  Her mom explained gently how it might be best for Cassie to ease her way back into the online world while she was still at home, under the support and guidance of her parents. If she moved out to attend college or even later, when she was old enough to secure a full time job, she’d need to be computer-savvy. There wasn’t a job Cassie would be interested in that wouldn’t require her to be on the computer.

  Cassie understood where her mom was coming from, but still it didn’t help ease the fear that once online, she’d become a victim of an evil monster again. On some level, she knew her fears were silly and irrational, but she couldn’t seem to rid herself of them. And now with her mom dying in hospital at the hands of some crazy kid, it was obvious the world was as unpredictable as it was unsafe.

  She bet her mom hadn’t thought for an instant when she woke for work yesterday morning that she’d be shot by a boy from her class and yet, it had happened. One moment she was a teacher doing her job and the next, she had a bullet through her belly. Her life had changed in an instant, just like Cassie’s had four years earlier.

  It was the unpredictability of it that terrified her. What if she was the next target in life’s sights? What if she was thrown another unexpected curve ball? It might not mean being preyed upon again by a pedophile. It could be something as simple and random as being run down by a bus. But that’s what life was like. It chewed you up and spat you out without care or concern for the consequences and there was nothing you could do about it. It was like she stopped really living four years ago on that fateful day when James Gibbons destroyed her life.

  Her heart rate thudded against her chest and she made an effort to slow it down, but even the deep-breathing exercises her therapist had shown her didn’t make an impact. The truth was, life and everything it entailed, now scared her to death. She didn’t know when the next disaster might happen. Everything around her was out of her control and she didn’t know what to do about it.

  Reaching underneath her bed, she felt for the shoebox she had stored there and sighed in relief when her fingers closed around it. She pulled it out and removed the cover and reached in for the bottle of rum. Unscrewing the lid, she gulped down a mouthful, two, and then another. The alcohol burned her esophagus and slid down into her belly. Within moments, she was enveloped in a warm glow.

  Her mother wasn’t a drinker and it was only on the odd occasion her father indulged. Even then, it was only a beer or two. She’d never seen him drunk. There was never any hard liquor in the house and she’d relied upon one of the older boys at school to buy her the bottle of rum. She’d heard from some of her friends that it was a good way to chill out and forget about the world and they were right. It interfered with her ability to concentrate and her grades were beginning to suffer, but that was a small price to pay for oblivion as far as she was concerned.

  Staring at the bottle, she debated about taking another gulp. The liquor seemed to beckon to her. Supplied so conveniently, it was her escape from the world, her life line and she clung to it like a drowning person desperately holding onto a life preserver.

  A gentle tap on her door made her heart skip a beat. With flustered fingers, she screwed the cap back on the bottle and tossed it under her bed. Arranging the bedclothes around her, she sleepily asked for the visitor to enter. Her dad stepped into the room.

  Cassie’s gaze ran over his tired appearance. Though his hair was still wet from the shower, his clothes were already rumpled and he appeared weighed down with fatigue. She knew he was concerned for her mom and he had spent much of the evening at her mom’s bedside. A low ache formed deep in the pit of her belly and she had to blink back sudden tears. No wonder
she was turning to alcohol as a means to blot out the pain.

  “Hey, baby,” her dad murmured and attempted a half-hearted smile. “How’re you doing?”

  Cassie’s return smile was just as weak as his. “I’m okay, Dad. How’s Mom?”

  “She’s doing all right. I spoke to Uncle Brandon a little while ago. He spent the night at the hospital.”

  “Has she woken up yet? I really want to talk to her.”

  “Me, too, sweetheart. Me, too.”

  “How long is it going to take, Dad? What if she never wakes up?” Cassie’s voice broke on the last few words and she bit down hard on another surge of emotion. Tears burned behind her eyelids. To her alarm, her dad moved closer and perched on the edge of her bed. He reached over and gently smoothed the hair out of her eyes.

  “I’m not sure, honey. The doctors are doing all they can. She’s holding in there. All we can do is pray.”

  “I want to see her again.”

  “Of course. How about I pick you and Joe up after school? Who knows? She might even be awake by then.”

  “I don’t want to go to school.”

  Her dad nodded. “That’s okay. I think a day off under these circumstances is perfectly understandable. I’ve called work. I’m going to be take the next few days off. At least until Mom’s out of the ICU. I’m heading over there now to see how she’s doing.”

  He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. Cassie froze, hoping he wouldn’t smell the alcohol on her breath. A moment later, he pulled back and stood and made his way to the door.

  “I’ll call and let you know how Mom is and come back and get you and your brother a little later, if you like. Grandma and Grandpa are downstairs. Grandma’s got breakfast ready.”

  Cassie turned over onto her side and tugged up the bedclothes around her shoulders. “I don’t feel like breakfast.”

  A shadow of concern passed across her dad’s blue eyes and he compressed his lips and sighed. To her relief, he merely offered a brief nod of acceptance and then quietly left the room.