Dead Enemies
Page 26
Sali offered no reply.
He nearly choked on the heartbeat pounding in his throat. With his fingers still curled tightly around the butt of the gun, he brought both hands up to the sides of his head and squeezed it at the temples. “Think, Warren. Think.”
The sudden and heavy knock on the bedroom door brought him to attention. He yelled, “Hey,” as Sali slid under the bed.
“Open the door, Warren,” Wanda called in a soft voice.
He took a step closer. “Who’s out there with you, Wanda? Who you got out there?” he asked as he pressed the barrel of the gun against the door.
“Just me… me and your mother.”
His arm fell to his side. Had he died and been rejoined with everyone he’d lost? Why were they all here now? Had they come to take him with them? “Mom, I need to see that it’s you.”
After a brief silence, Wanda said, “She said if you want to see her, you have to come out. Warren, do as your mother says.”
He had always done what his mother had told him to do. He was her good boy, and he did his best to always make her proud. Unlike his father who was rarely impressed by his son’s actions, his mother had always doted on him and had made it a point of telling him how special he was each night as she tucked him in. “Yes, Mama.”
He reached out with his free hand and turned the knob. The door burst open knocking him backward, and off his feet. His head hit the floor with such force the room became shrouded behind a white curtain. When his vision began to return everything in the room was a blur. He blinked his eyes several times in an attempt to clear them. The first thing to come into view was a man standing at Warren’s feet with a gun pointed at his head. Movement to the side caught his attention. Cheryl was helping Gail out from under the bed. A larger man charged passed the one with the gun and stopped directly over Warren, his gun leveled at Warren’s chest.
“I thought I told you to wait until we got here. What were you all thinking?”
The man at his feet said something Warren couldn’t make out. His head hurt and he lacked the strength to pick himself off the floor. Two uniformed officers appeared next to the man zeroed in on his chest. The first kicked the gun from Warren’s limp hand while the other bent and grabbed Warren by an arm.
“Wanda!” Warren’s voice was heavy with pain as he called her name. “Wanda!”
Arms wrapped around each other, Sali and Amy took small steps to where he stood between two officers, hands in cuffs behind his back.
“She’s dead, Warren,” Sali said in a hardened tone. “You’re nuts. Batshit crazy. You can never hurt any of us again you sick, twisted excuse for a human being.”
The guy in the sports coat seemed to be in charge as he barked orders to the police joining him. Once everyone had their orders, he turned to the officer holding Warren’s arm, and said, “Read him his rights and get him out of here.”
Amy said, “Wherever they take you, it’ll be better than you deserve.”
Sali stepped between him and Amy. She leaned in close and in a voice he had to strain to hear, said, “You may have won the battles, but we won the war. You should have stayed dead.”
Chapter Fifty-Two
Sali - 2018
Sali opened the door to find Amy and Paul on the porch. He held a large bouquet of flowers in one hand, Amy’s hand in his other. Their faces radiated happiness, a look she hadn’t seen her sister wear in some time.
“You brought flowers… to my painting party? I don’t know what to say,” Sali teased.
“Consider them an early housewarming gift,” Paul said as he handed them to her and followed both women into the house.
“Or a bribe of sorts,” Amy added.
Sali lifted her head from the flowers she’d been smelling. “OK, that got my attention. What’s up?”
Amy and Paul shared a conspiratorial smile and, in that moment, Sali knew. “Oh my god. Really?”
Paul looked genuinely confused while Amy nodded and smiled.
“You didn’t exactly have to bribe me with flowers to be your maid of honor, you know. I also would have done it for a box of chocolates.” She leaned in to give her sister a hug.
When they parted, Amy said, “There’s more.”
Sali pulled shears from the wooden block on the counter, and asked, “What’s that?” as she trimmed the ends off the stems.
Paul took a step forward. “As you know, my sister is gone. Other than a nephew I have no close family, and… well, our friends are questionable starving artist types, and not quite right for the job.”
She looked over her shoulder at him. “What job?”
Amy placed both hands on one of Sali’s arms. “Godmother.”
She set the flowers and the shears in the sink, turned, and said, “Really? For sure? When—?”
“Not today,” Paul joked. “You have time to think on it.”
“Who needs to think? Of course, I will. I can’t believe my baby sister is going to have a baby of her own. When are you expecting?”
“March tenth,” Amy said.
A quiver of sadness creeped into Sali’s smile. “Mom’s birthday.”
Amy’s expression was bittersweet.
“I’m so happy for you guys. I mean it.”
They gathered around the new pub-style table Sali had bought to replace the chrome and Formica table her aunt had had since she and Amy were kids.
“What about you?” Amy asked.
Sali knew what she was talking about without having to hear her say the words. She had thrown herself into remodeling her aunt’s house, which bode well with trying to put her thoughts and life in an order she could live with. “I gave Steve the time he asked for. I spent the entire month thinking about him, me, us, everything, and nothing’s changed; so, Steve and I have jointly decided to go our separate ways.”
Amy’s look was one of understanding, as if she had anticipated the demise of her sister’s relationship.
“It’s for the best,” Sali added. “Steve knows exactly what he wants from life. I tried to get on board with that, but I was fooling myself. The critical side of me thinks that at my age I should have all the answers, but then there’s the carefree side that prefers dancing around anything too heavy instead of tackling it.” She let out a laugh.
Paul said, “None of us have all the answers because life keeps throwing us new questions.”
“Wow. That’s probably the deepest thing I’ve ever heard you say.” She swatted at the table in Paul’s direction. “Hey, you want something to drink before I put you to work?”
Amy said, “Water.”
“You have anything diet?” Paul asked.
Both women gave him a questioning stare.
“Hey, I want to look good in my tux. Don’t judge me.”
They were still laughing when they heard a knock on the kitchen door. Sali wasn’t expecting anyone else, and shrugged as she crossed the room to answer it. She couldn’t hide her surprise when she swung the door open. “Hi there. I… you… this is a surprise.” She glanced to Amy and Paul before saying, “Come on in.”
Amy and Paul seemed to share in Sali’s surprise when Johnston entered and joined them at the table.
They exchanged greetings before Sali offered him a seat. His face took on a serious expression as he sat, which caused her to tense.
“What’s wrong?” The words tumbled out before she could stop them.
Amy and Paul’s expression changed to match her own.
“I do have news—”
Sali interrupted him. “He escaped? Please don’t tell us he escaped.”
Johnston held both hands up as if to ward off the thought. “No. Nothing like that.”
They passed a glance around the table. She and Amy blew out the air they’d been holding while Paul ran his hands through his hair.
“Sorry,” Johnston said. “I suppose that wasn’t the best lead-in to my news. I came to tell you he’s dying. He has end stage pancreatic cancer, and probably
won’t live long enough to go to trial.”
“Even with treatment?” Amy asked.
Johnston gave a solemn shake of his head. “He’s refused treatment.”
Sali looked away from the others. She was afraid that given enough time they’d see the lack of sympathy in her eyes. Monster or not, Warren was a human, and as a human wasn’t he entitled to compassion?
Her answer was an unapologetic no. She didn’t care that he was dying. Hell, she had thought he was dead for years, and didn’t care until she thought she might be held accountable for his death. Johnston could have told her the guards were taking turns torturing him in prison, and she didn’t think it would bother her. Did her lack of sympathy bother her? No.
“Sali.”
She turned to find Amy and Paul gone from the table. She looked to the only other person who could have called her name. “I’m sorry. I guess I drifted away in my own thoughts,” she said to Johnston.
“I was saying if you haven’t eaten yet, I was going to stop for Chinese. I know a great little place in town, and I wouldn’t mind the company.”
She glanced around the kitchen. “Where did they go?”
He seemed to choke on his answer, and was that a blush creeping across his cheeks? His weight shifted from one leg to the other.
“Why Detective Johnston, you do seem nervous.”
He tried to hide a sheepish smile by looking to his shoes.
“Did you tell them to give you a few minutes alone with me?”
His smile had stretched the width of his face by the time he looked up. “You sure do ask hard-hitting questions. You might want to think about becoming a detective one day,” he said as he motioned to the door.
She followed in the direction of his arm. “I am considering making some changes, but I don’t think that’ll be one of them. Buying my aunt’s house and renovating it was the first, and I think I’m going to try my hand at writing a book next.”
“Based on a true story, I’m thinking?”
“Very intuitive. No wonder you’re a detective.”
He opened the passenger door, and waited for her to slide in before shutting it. When he slid into his side of the car, she asked, “Is this a date?” and watched his face for his reaction.
He started the engine, but didn’t put the car into gear. After a moment, he said, “That’s what I would call it, but if you’re not ready, or interested, we can call it dinner.”
She waited for pangs of anxiety to grip her stomach. She listened for the little voices in her head to start yammering in her ears. She waited for him to change his mind and take it back. Finally, she turned to look him in the eyes, and said, “We’ll call it a first date.”
He smiled and turned away, turned back toward her, and then looked into the rearview mirror as he put the car in reverse. “Now that we’re dating, you’re going to ask me to help paint, aren’t you?”
* * *