by Robbi McCoy
The injured man, recovered from the surprise of being shot, moved along the floor toward his gun, which lay against a wall ten feet away. Stef realized she couldn’t let him rearm himself. She dove past him for the gun. He grabbed her legs, pulling her back along the slick floor, putting the gun out of her reach. She clawed at the floor, but couldn’t move forward. He released her legs and tried to climb over the top of her to get to the gun. She pulled an elbow back hard to catch him in the stomach. He groaned and fell off her. She rolled over and shoved him away. Then she went for the gun again and caught it securely in her right hand. Her heart beat furiously. On some level she knew this was the first time she’d touched a gun since that horrible day that had defined her whole life since, and that she’d vowed never to touch one again, had thought she was incapable of it. On another level, the one in charge, she didn’t have time to think about any of that.
She rolled back over just as Blue Eyes was about to pounce on her again, but with the gun barrel aimed at his face, he stopped abruptly. With her situation under control, Stef looked over to see what had happened to Rudy. His assailant had wrenched the revolver away from him and kicked him backward into the edge of the counter. Ida screamed again as the man aimed the gun at Rudy’s head.
“Shoot him!” yelled Blue Eyes.
“Dude,” objected the other man, “it’s Mr. Townsend.” He sounded young. A scared young man. Obviously not a stranger to the bait shop.
“I don’t care who the fuck he is. He shot me! Pop him.”
Sitting on the floor, still aiming at Blue Eyes, Stef realized Rudy was in mortal danger. She carefully rose to her feet, watching both men closely. The one holding the revolver on Rudy trembled noticeably. Whether he would shoot or not, she couldn’t tell. That’s not the kind of chance you can take in police work. If I guess wrong…
“Do it!” yelled Blue Eyes, looking defiantly at Stef, clearly believing she wouldn’t use her gun even if she knew how.
If she moved toward Rudy, this guy would be all over her, she knew. She had to keep them both in front of her. There was no way to stop the other boy except by shooting him. She had had so many nightmares in which she willed herself not to squeeze the trigger. Not to let her finger contract. Now she thought maybe she’d succeeded, that she had paralyzed herself so she wasn’t able to shoot a gun at all, even now when a man’s life was at stake. A brief wave of dizziness wafted over her.
She could see the boy struggling with his conscience and his need to obey his friend. He raised the gun and aimed more purposely at Rudy, whose back was against the counter. He bent back over it, trying to get farther from the gun. Ida screamed again, crying, “No, no!” The gunman swung her way, momentarily deflecting his aim away from Rudy. Stef took the opportunity of his forward-facing body to aim for his shoulder. She fired. As the slug hit its mark, the boy stumbled backward, dropped the gun, and slammed into the wall, crying out in pain. At that same instant, Stef kicked the other boy under the chin, sending him flying backward to land against one of the display shelves, knocking it over and scattering merchandise across the floor. To the sound of breaking glass, she sprang to the counter and leapt over it. She grabbed Rudy’s gun, then shoved him past the injured boy groaning on the floor.
“Get over there with your wife and stay there,” she commanded.
He scurried off, and she backed a few feet away from the boy writhing at her feet. Both guns in hand, she trained the Beretta on Blue Eyes as he gradually recovered from the kick and sat up. She put the safety on the revolver and slipped it into her pocket. Then she threw her cell phone to Rudy.
“Call 9-1-1,” she said. “Tell them to send an ambulance.”
She pulled the boy on the floor to his feet. His shirt was soaked with blood. His hand was clamped over his shoulder. It too was covered with blood, but it didn’t look like he was bleeding enough to bleed out. She pulled him around to the open area of the store and pulled off his ski mask. He was just a kid, early twenties.
“Eddie!” Ida gasped. “Eddie Delgado?”
“Sit there,” Stef ordered, pointing with the gun.
Eddie sat next to his friend and started to sob, still holding his shoulder.
“Ida,” Stef instructed, “can you find a clean cloth he can put over that wound?”
“Eddie,” Ida said sternly, struggling to her feet and clearly no longer afraid, “how could you? And I suppose that’s your friend Joey, isn’t it?”
The other boy, who knew there was no escape, took off his ski mask, slapped Eddie over the head with it, then threw it on the floor into a spreading puddle of sticky pink liquid that smelled overwhelmingly of fish. Stef backed away from the boys and knelt near Jackie’s parents. Rudy was on the phone with the emergency dispatcher, explaining the situation, his voice slightly out of control with anxiety.
Stef took a deliberate deep breath and wondered if she’d been breathing at all for the last few minutes. She kept the gun in hand, aware that she had done just what needed to be done. She hadn’t choked and she hadn’t killed anyone.
Ida opened a package of cotton rags and handed one to Stef, who tossed it to Eddie. “Apply pressure,” she said.
They waited, the defeated boys on one side of the room next to the toppled shelving unit, the fortunate victims on the other. Rudy and Ida stood together, leaning against each other. Stef resisted the urge to lecture Rudy. He’d learned his lesson the hard way. For once, he had nothing to say. He stood quietly, his arm around his wife.
Finally, they heard a siren. A patrol car came screaming into the parking lot out front, throwing gravel against the window as it skidded to a stop. Stef breathed a huge sigh of relief as Officer Hartley stepped into the shop, gun drawn, his badge drooping from the front of a Def Leppard T-shirt. As he crossed the threshold, he reeled back, covering his nose with one hand and screwing up his face in disgust. “What the hell!” he choked.
“Salmon eggs,” Rudy explained flatly.
Hartley shook his head and blinked, then surveyed the scene as Stef approached.
“Looks like everything’s under control here,” he said with a nod toward Stef. He stood in front of the boys, looking down at them with his mouth set in an expression of dismay.
“Eddie Delgado and Joey Cahill,” he said, not the least bit surprised to see them.
“You know them?” Stef asked.
“Never met, no, but I got their names earlier today from Jackie. She recognized them from your description. Ironic, isn’t it, that they hit her parents’ store the same night?”
At the mention of Jackie’s name, Stef’s heart skipped a beat.
Another siren sounded, approaching their location.
“That’ll be the ambulance,” Ida said, addressing Eddie. “You’ll be okay. Don’t worry. I’ll call your mother and tell her where you are. Tell them to take you to Lodi Memorial. That’s a good hospital. All my kids were born there, and I wouldn’t go anywhere else.”
Eddie said nothing, looking confused and miserable. The thought of Ida calling his mother didn’t seem to comfort him. Stef glanced at Rudy, who rolled his eyes at his wife. She appeared completely recovered from any distress over the robbery. An ambulance pulled off the highway and halted out front, lights flashing.
Hartley turned to Stef. “Thanks for the help here.” He gestured toward the gun in her hand. “Looks like this could have ended a lot worse ways.”
Stef nodded shortly and surrendered both handguns to him, happy to get rid of them, but also understanding that a momentous event had just occurred. So momentous, in fact, that she knew if she thought about it much longer, she’d start sobbing from the sheer emotional impact of what she had just accomplished.
Hartley looked at her levelly and said, “I don’t claim to know what you’ve been through, Byers, but when you’re ready to get back to work, give me a call. We might have a position opening up soon. It’s not a bad beat. Might seem a little quiet for somebody with your experience, but I figure you m
ight be ready for a little quiet.”
She nodded. “I hope you have a little more quiet yourself with those two out of the way.”
After hearing the details of what had happened from Rudy and Ida and arresting the boys, Hartley took Cahill out in cuffs. Delgado was taken in the ambulance. Rudy and Ida stood near the checkout counter. Stef stepped carefully around the broken glass on the floor.
“You forgot to give my credit card back,” she told Rudy.
He looked surprised, then located the card beside the computer.
“Thank you so much for saving our lives,” Ida said, taking Stef’s hand in both of hers. “My husband’s a dimwit. If it wasn’t for you… Oh, I hate to think…”
Stef leaned down to hug her. “You’re welcome.”
Ida opened the jar of jerky on the counter and held it toward Stef with a solemn expression. It was her all-purpose offering. Stef took a piece. Then she passed through the doorway into a remarkable Delta sunset. The sky was deep blue and pink with a tinge of melon orange. What a rejuvenating sight!
She walked across the street where Mudbug still floated in her berth, ready to take her on a journey. Deuce stood at the cabin’s glass door, watching her approach. She laughed at the sight and suddenly realized she felt great. The urge to cry had passed and in its place was an equally intense feeling of triumph. She punched the air with her fist and said, “Yes!” then hastened her pace toward her new adventure.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
By five o’clock, Jackie was convinced seven o’clock would never come. And if it did, she wasn’t sure she’d still be alive. But it did and she was. When they turned off the equipment and packed up to go home, everybody was ready to collapse into puddles of their own sweat. Pat appeared at her side with an extra glass of champagne, looking like a wet mop.
“Congratulations,” she said, handing the glass to Jackie. “We made it through another year.”
Jackie clinked her glass against Pat’s and took a healthy swallow. “Yes, we did! It looked like a good one too.”
“Best ever by preliminary estimates.” Pat pressed her champagne glass against her cheek. “Just got a call from Gail. She’s home already and has the hot tub running. I’m going to go soak in it until I turn into a prune. Want to join us?”
“Tempting, but I have something I need to do.”
Jackie rushed home to shower and change, and was feeling revived by the time she was back in her car and driving out to Baylor Road. She was convinced she could help Stef if only she could push her way past her thick defenses. She’d be more aggressive this time and wouldn’t slink away when Stef told her to get lost. Stef needed her help, even if she wouldn’t admit it. She knew Stef cared about her. And that gave her an advantage. This time, she wouldn’t take no for an answer.
Turning up Stef’s driveway, she was confronted with a sight that astonished her. Her heart leapt into her throat and her foot eased off the gas pedal.
The houseboat was gone!
She parked and walked over to the spot where it had stood. The blocks it had rested on were still there. The hookups for electricity and water were still there. The picnic table and grill were still there. But Mudbug, Stef, Deuce and all their stuff were gone.
It seemed incomprehensible that it shouldn’t be here like it always had been. It was as if it had just vanished into thin air. But the fact was, it was a boat. It belonged on water and Stef had always intended to move it to water. Jackie just hadn’t expected it to happen so fast. Least of all, she hadn’t expected it to happen now when she had a new plan to put into action. It had been at least eight hours since Hartley saw Stef at the festival. For all Jackie knew, Mudbug could have already been at the marina even then. Maybe her visit to the festival had been Stef’s last look at Stillwater Bay—and at Jackie—before she sailed away.
She sat at the picnic table in the slant light of the setting sun, disappointed and bereft. It was so cold and empty here all of a sudden. Though it was a warm spring evening, she shivered at the vacant space in front of her.
She was gone. She was really gone.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
It was not until the following morning that Jackie heard about the robbery when her sister called asking if she knew any details. The story had spread through town already, and Becca had heard about it when she dropped Adam off at school. As soon as she got off the phone, Jackie rushed to the bait shop to find the door propped open and both her parents inside. Her mother was squatting and picking broken glass off the floor, and her father was in the bait room adding sardines to one of the tanks. Other than the mess on the floor and the overwhelming smell of fish in the shop, everything looked the same as usual.
“You were robbed?” Jackie stopped just inside the door to avoid stepping in glass.
Her mother looked up at her and squinted. “Nope. We weren’t robbed.”
“They didn’t get a penny,” her father boasted from the back room.
“Thanks to that young woman,” Ida added. “No thanks to your fool of a father.”
“Young woman?” Jackie asked. She knelt down to help her mother pick up the rest of the glass. Sticky salmon eggs stuck to several of the larger pieces.
“That woman who bought old Compton’s houseboat.” Her mother stood. “The cop.”
“She isn’t a cop,” Rudy intervened.
“Don Hartley said—”
“He said she used to be a cop. He was here just a minute ago checking on us. He said that’s why she was such a good shot. Because she used to be a cop.”
“She shot somebody?” Jackie was alarmed and frustrated with her parents for not telling her instantly what she wanted to know, but it was clear they were talking about Stef.
“She shot Eddie Delgado,” Ida said, carrying her dustpan full of glass to the trash can.
“Oh, my God!”
“In the shoulder,” Rudy added, stepping into the room. “He’ll be okay. Hartley said they got the bullet out and there shouldn’t be any complications. He’ll heal up okay. It was a very precise type of shot, he said. She knew what she was doing, that girl.”
Jackie breathed a sigh of relief to hear that Stef hadn’t killed somebody. Somebody else.
“It’s a good thing somebody knew what she was doing,” Ida remarked. “Your father shot Joey Cahill.”
“What?” Jackie was alarmed. “Dad shot Joey Cahill?”
Ida waved dismissively. “Just nicked him. Your father couldn’t hit the side of a barn at ten feet. If it wasn’t for that policewoman, we’d all be dead. I’m sure of it.”
“Why didn’t you call me?” Jackie demanded.
“There was nothing for you to do. By the time everybody left, we just wanted to go to bed. We were exhausted. Just left the whole mess here and went home.”
“It was an exciting night,” Rudy added. “How’d you find out about it?”
“Everybody in town is talking about it. I got three calls on my way over here from people wanting to know what happened. Becca called me first thing. That’s where I first heard about it. And I’m like, what? Why didn’t we know about this? She’s coming over as soon as she can get somebody to fill in at work. She called your house earlier and got no answer.”
“That’s because we came over here early to clean up,” Ida explained. “I’ll mop up the rest.”
She walked to the back room to get a mop and Jackie noticed for the first time that she was wearing the tasteful new yellow and white top Jackie had bought her with a pair of stretch polyester hot pink shorts. Why would she do that? Jackie wondered. Rudy installed himself on his stool behind the counter. Jackie sent a text to her sister saying, “Nobody hurt. Everything under control. No hurry about coming over.”
“We were so lucky,” Ida said, returning with the mop, “that we had a police officer right here in the store when the heist went down.”
“She’s not a police officer,” Rudy grumbled. “I just told you that.”
“You should
have seen her,” Ida continued, undaunted. “She was a regular Jackie Chan.”
“Jackie Chan?” her father complained. “What are you talking about? Did you see any kung fu fighting in here last night? I didn’t see any.”
Ida shrugged. “Well, then, Angie Dickinson.”
“Who’s Angie Dickinson?” Jackie asked.
“A policewoman,” Rudy said. “Back in the seventies. She had blonde hair and went undercover a lot as a hooker. I never liked her as much as I did Columbo. Remember him?”
“Oh, yeah,” Ida said, pushing the mop across the bright pink stain. “Columbo. He was good.”
“With that raincoat and his wonky eye.” Rudy shook his head and smiled, then hiked up one shoulder, partially closed one eye, raised one finger and muttered, “Pardon me, sir… Just one more thing, ma’am... Just one more tiny question if you don’t mind.”
“I see I’ll have to go down to the police station,” Jackie said. “Obviously, you two aren’t going to tell me what happened here last night.”
“What happened,” her father said, “is that two kids came in here and held us up.”
“Eddie Delgado and Joey Cahill,” Ida added. “It was late, around eight o’clock, way after closing time, but your father insisted on staying open until the festival was over on the chance he might sell one more overpriced T-shirt. The ones with the big red crawdads on them, those were the most popular, as we expected.”
“Then what happened?” Jackie demanded, anxious to get back on topic. “After the boys came in, what happened?”
“They asked for all the money,” her father explained. “Before I could even open the drawer, your ex-cop comes in and surprises them. Made them trigger happy.”
“That’s not what made them trigger happy,” Ida contradicted. “Everything was fine until your damned fool father pulls a gun on them. Then everybody went crazy. Eddie was about to shoot your father in the head when that girl…” She turned to Rudy. “What’s her name?”