UNAWARE: A Suspense Novel
Page 23
“Call nine-one-one,” he hollered over his shoulder and held tight to her hand and arm to stem the flow of blood.
She resisted him, trying to pull away, her eyes held a wild, wide-eyed look.
“It’s Martin. You’re okay.” He wanted to wrap his arms around her, but there was so much blood, he didn’t dare let go of her limbs.
The whites of her eyes were huge in the moonlight.
“Lieutenant?” A uniformed officer’s flashlight illuminated the ground at their feet. Joe came around and checked for a pulse on one of the men. He looked at Martin and shook his head. He picked up Martin’s flashlight and said, “No hurry on this one.”
The other officer stood. “This one’s dead, too. Worse than dead.” He looked like he wanted to puke.
Martin said, “That’s Alan Sellers. If I had to guess, I’d say the other one is Zachary Armstrong, this woman’s husband. Looks like he returned home just in time to save his wife, only it didn’t work out that way.”
A third officer came up. “Lieutenant, I got inside. The kids slept through all this.”
Dena whimpered and became a dead weight against Martin. He held her up. It was awkward holding on to her like that, but he didn’t know how much blood she’d lost and didn’t want to risk her losing anymore. A siren in the distance grew closer.
Martin looked down into Dena’s face. Her eyes studied him. She had grown quiet and let him hold her arms. When the ambulance showed up, he stayed with her while the emergency medical technicians bandaged her wounds. He spoke reassuringly to her that she would be all right, that her children would be fine.
“Call my friend,” she whispered. “Call Ellen.” Her eyes searched his. The wild look he’d seen earlier had gone. “Her number … her phone number is on the kitchen bulletin board.”
Her hand had a deep slice, but the one on her arm was shallower, though longer. The EMTs strapped her on a gurney. Martin walked beside it until they slid her into the back of the ambulance. The two technicians climbed out and walked around to the front where they spoke with Joe.
Dena held an arm out toward Martin. “My children?”
“Don’t worry,” Martin said. He leaned halfway in and halfway out of the back of the vehicle. “I’ll take care of them. I’ll get your friends’ information and call them.”
“No—that’s not what I meant. I have to ask you something.” Her eyes got that wild look for a moment. The blood having been wiped from her face made her look more normal, except for that glint in her eye. “Come closer. I want only you to hear.”
Martin scrambled the rest of the way into the ambulance and knelt next to where she lay. There were still smears of blood at her hairline and across her face. For just a moment his mind flashed on how close he’d come to losing her, yet he knew she wasn’t even his to lose. His eyes met hers. Her lower lip trembled as she started to speak.
“What is it? It’s okay now. You can tell me. Only I can hear.”
“Promise me one thing,” she said, studying his face.
“Anything.”
“Promise me that no one will tell my kids their father tried to kill me.”
EPILOGUE
SIX MONTHS LATER
DENA
“It’s a boy,” the doctor exclaimed so loudly Dena could hear him through the birthing room door. She and Martin had been standing outside for the last hour of Ginny’s labor. Mary coached, so she got to stay inside. They all had been at the hospital since eight that morning after Ginny had called to say her water had broken.
“Congratulations, Lieutenant,” Dena said.
“Congratulations, yourself, Counselor,” Martin said.
“I’m glad it’s a boy,” Dena said. “A new year. A new baby. In a way, it’s like giving him another chance. Alan never had much of a chance.”
She recalled the story she had pieced together since the night Alan Sellers and Zack had died. Between discussions with her cousin, Luke, the papers she’d found of her mother’s, and further use of the private investigator, Dena had a pretty good idea about what had happened those many years before, and what had made Alan Sellers, Jr., into the mad dog he had become.
By looking into their bank accounts, she also figured out what had transpired most recently between her husband and the man who had turned out to be her brother.
“With a father like Senior, Alan Sellers, Junior was doomed from the very start,” Martin said.
“Makes me wonder what his father’s father was like, and his father before him, and his father before him—”
“You’ve made your point.” Martin smiled down at her and touched her shoulder.
His touch was gentle. Dena didn’t shy away from it. “We’re going to break that cycle of violence. We’ll all love this little boy so much he’ll never have a chance to turn bad.”
“I’m going to have to spoil him a little bit,” Martin said.
“Of course you are, Uncle Martin.”
“And you’re not, Aunt Dena?” There was a twinkle in Martin’s eye.
“Sure I am. Right now, let’s spoil his mother. Let’s go to the florist’s to buy her the biggest bouquet of flowers she’s ever seen and one of those ‘It’s a Boy’ door hangers.”
“I’m game,” Martin said. “And while we’re at it, may I treat you to a late lunch?”
Her eyes met his. It was as if he could see through her, but in a good way. “All right. You’ve been patient a long time. I think I’m ready for that lunch.”
“I’m glad.” Martin helped her on with her jacket and shrugged into his own. He paused at the nurse’s station on their way out and left a message for his sisters. Then he held the door for Dena as they left the hospital.
“Take my car?”
“Fine by me.” Martin said.
As they approached her new, larger Ford sedan, she held out the keys to him. When he reached for them, he took her hand. Dena’s heart thumped. The past few months had been so filled with mourning and therapy and spending quality time with her children and moving into her new offices that she had put Martin off each time he had tried to see her. Only twice had she come into contact with him. Once had been at Ginny’s apartment when Dena had been helping decorate the baby’s room. The other was when Martin had been waiting for her outside the courtroom when she had been in trial. He had insisted they at least have coffee together.
He had phoned her numerous times after Zack’s and Alan Sellers’ funerals. Dena had paid for both. But she had left strict instructions with both Meredith and Juliet that she didn’t want to talk to anyone except Ginny or, maybe, Mary. Several months had gone by before she began accepting his calls. She was ready now for their relationship to move to the next level. Well, really, for their relationship to get started.
Martin held her hand until they reached the car. He opened the passenger door and helped her in. He leaned down and kissed the scar that ran across the top of her hand. Dena shivered and smiled at him.
Closing the door, he walked around to the other side and let himself in. After he started the car, he turned to her and said, “I’d like to do more than just take you to lunch if you think you’re ready. You know how I feel about you.”
“Yes, I’m fully aware of that.” She caressed the place on her scar where he had kissed her. “I guess I’m just scared, that’s all.”
Martin ran a finger down her cheek. “I can understand that, but I guarantee you I would never hurt you. Never. I care deeply about you, Dena. I’m just asking that you give me a chance, that’s all. I want us to take care of each other.”
“We’re a package deal, you know.” She put her hand over his and squeezed.
“I know that. I want to be a father to your children, if you and they will let me, and we’ll all watch out for our new baby nephew. Could you do that?”
For some reason, Dena felt shy when Martin began talking like that, when she realized how much he cared for her. He was so different from Zack.
With Zack, she was never sure where she stood, never sure he really loved her. Martin made his feelings known—made her completely aware that finally someone loved her for herself. He seemed too good to be true. She leaned across the bucket seats and kissed him on the cheek. “I think I can do that. At least, I sure want to give it a try.”
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Table of Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
CHAPTER FIFTY
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
CHAPTER SIXTY
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
EPILOGUE
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Digital Rights Statement
Unaware
By Susan P. Baker
Unaware
Copyright 2017 by Susan P. Baker, All rights reserved.
Created in digital format in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations in blog posts and articles and reviews.
This book is entirely a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person whether alive or dead is purely coincidental and unintentional on the part of the author.
For more information about author Susan P. Baker please refer to the About the Author section at the end of this novel.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The author would like to express her appreciation and thanks for the assistance provided by Bill and Judy Crider (deceased), John Hunger, Margaret Anderson, and the members of the First and Second Galveston Novel and Short Story Writers Group, and Saralyn J. Richard.
Books by Susan P. Baker
http://www.susanpbaker.com
Novels:
Death of a Prince
Ledbetter Street
My First Murder
Suggestion of Death
The Sweet Scent of Murder
UNAWARE
Nonfiction:
Heart of Divorce
Murdered Judges of the 20th Century
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Susan P. Baker is the author of six novels and two nonfiction books, all of which are related to the law because of her career in the justice system. As a judge, for twelve years she dealt with murder, kidnapping, incest, stalking, child support, child custody, and divorce. Prior thereto, she practiced law for nine years, spending much of her time in the courtroom. While in law school, she worked as a probation officer. Her worst experiences at that time, besides driving 50 miles each way on I-45 from Galveston to Houston for classes several times a week, were making home visits to some scary neighborhoods.
Susan’s father was a lawyer and a judge. She remembers him parking the family outside the old county jail while he went in and made bail bonds. She'd stare out the window at the broken glass lining the tops of the walls to prevent escapes and wonder what the jail was like inside. Later, she became quite familiar with the interior of the jail but luckily could leave whenever she wanted.
Susan is a member of Women Fiction Writers Association, Authors Guild, Sisters in Crime, Writers League of Texas, and Galveston Novel and Short Story Writers.
She has two children, eight grandchildren, and lives in Texas. She loves dark chocolate, especially with raspberries, and traveling around the world. An anglophile, her favorite country is England where she likes to visit relatives (her mother was a British war bride) Roman ruins, anything Shakespeare, and just about everything else she comes across.
Find out more about Susan and her books at www.susanpbaker.com.
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