Blood Stains

by Sharon Sala

  Bodie and Maria were asleep in a tangle of arms and legs, exhausted from what had been a combination of love and war.

  When his phone rang suddenly, Bodie woke with a jerk, startling Maria enough that she woke, too, then began trying to unwind herself from his arms.

  She pointed to the bathroom as he grabbed the phone.

  Bodie couldn’t help noticing that she looked as good going as she did coming, then heard Sam’s voice in his ear and remembered he hadn’t said hello.

  “Hey…Bodie! Bodie! You there?”

  “Uh, yeah, sorry, Sam. I got distracted. What’s up?”

  “It may be nothing, or it may be something, but there’s a Mercedes that’s made two sweeps past your house, and if I was a betting man, I’d lay money that he’s going to try for three.”

  Bodie flew out of bed, grabbing for his pants and looking for his gun.

  “Where are you?” he asked.

  “In the motor home, in the dark, watching.”

  “Don’t turn on your lights, but if you get a chance, can you get out and maybe get on the blind side of the house, then watch to see if the car comes around again?”

  “Yep.”

  “In case this is the real thing, if you see someone suspicious, don’t try to approach him on your own. Remember, he’s already killed twice this time around. I don’t want you to be the third. Just call the police for me. I’ll take care of us inside.”

  “I can do that. You just make sure nothing happens to Mary.”

  “Deal,” Bodie said, and hung up, then headed for the bathroom.

  Maria was about to step into the shower when he stopped her with a look. Her heart began to hammer.

  “What?”

  “It might be nothing, but Sam saw the same car, a Mercedes, circling the block too many times. I can guarantee it’s not one of my neighbor’s cars. That’s out of our league in this neighborhood. Get dressed. I want you out of sight until I say it’s okay.”

  “What if it’s him? What if he found us?”

  “I hope to hell it is him,” Bodie muttered. “I want to see the bastard’s face before I shoot.”

  Maria’s eyes widened. “You’re a cop. I thought you were supposed to arrest him.”

  “If I’m lucky, he’ll shoot first. It’ll give me a damned good reason to shoot back.”

  “I want a gun.”

  Once again, he was in awe of her spirit. Instead of cowering, she wanted to fight.

  He remembered the turkey shoot. “I have a hunting rifle.”

  “Good. That’s what I shoot best.”

  “I do not want you playing cop.”

  She nodded.

  “It’ll only be for your protection…just in case. Get dressed. I’ll get the gun.

  She flew out of the bathroom, then remembered that her clothes were scattered down the hall, so she got new ones out of the closet. Within moments, Bodie was back. He handed her a rifle and a box of ammunition.

  “I’m thinking you’ll know how to load this.”

  She eyed the weapon. “Sure do.”

  “Stay in this room. Stay on the floor and away from the windows.”

  He turned out the light in the bathroom, then grabbed her and kissed her—hard.

  “Love you,” he whispered.

  “Love you more.”

  She was on the floor between the wall and the bed before he closed the door. She kept waiting for fear to set in. For her heart to thump and her palms to sweat. But it didn’t happen. She felt calm. She felt secure. This was why she’d come. And if the killer was truly making a strike, one way or another, this would be over tonight.

  Bodie had his cell on vibrate and was standing in the hall, just out of the glare of the living room lights. He’d turned on the television, upping the volume so that if the killer came up on the porch, he would assume his quarry was just inside, watching TV.

  He hadn’t heard from Sam again, but something in his gut told him this was the night. The killer had to be in a panic. They had his DNA. He had to assume Maria might have remembered enough of her past to put him away. He was obviously desperate to even be considering this move, but then again, he hadn’t shown any restraint so far.

  Bodie had his gun up, the safety off. Listening. Waiting. Watching for that one hint of motion, the tiniest indication that something was about to go down.

  It was after the third sweep past the house that Franklin decided to make his move. He’d parked the car a couple of houses back and made his approach on foot. Dressed all in black, he felt part of the night as he slipped through the shadows between Bodie’s house and his neighbor’s. A part of him felt as if he was watching this unfold from outside himself, because this wasn’t how he had chosen to live. This was the behavior of the people he represented. But he’d learned enough from all their stories to remember what to do.

  Lesson number one. Check for dogs.

  He’d found the house. No fence, which probably meant no dog, but he’d approached from a back alley, which was how he saw the big man standing at the front corner of the house, slightly hunched over and watching the street.

  He froze.

  Son of a bitch. They knew he was coming!

  His heart started to pound.

  How the fuck had they made him?

  Then he made himself focus. If there was a guard out here, it figured that Sally was inside.

  Thankful he’d had the foresight to bring the gun with the silencer, he took aim and fired. The pop was less than the sound of a breaking balloon. The man’s body bucked, then made more noise hitting the ground than the gunshot that had taken him out.

  Franklin waited, making sure the man was still down and that the shot hadn’t alerted someone else. After a couple of minutes, he grinned.

  One down. At least two to go.

  Nothing was moving. Not inside the house. And as far as Bodie could tell, nothing outside, either. He was about to head outside and check on Sam when he thought he caught a glimpse of movement out on the porch. He tensed, watching the windows, then the door, listening for the sounds of someone circling the house, but the television was making too much noise. The very thing he’d used to indicate they were home was defeating his purpose.

  All of a sudden he saw the doorknob turn. Once to the left. Then once to the right. Testing, and finding it locked.

  Shit. He wished he could tell Maria it was about to go down and she should get out of sight, but he had to trust that she was following his instructions.

  His body tensed. His gaze was fixed on the doorknob as he took one slow, quiet step back, moving a little deeper into the shadows of the darkened hall as a knock sounded at the door.

  He frowned. The killer was brazen enough to knock?

  Then he remembered Nora. That was how the man had gotten her to the peephole. No way was he falling for that. He waited. A second knock followed.

  Come on. Come on. Stop fooling around.

  All of a sudden the door reverberated.

  He’s kicking in the door! Damn, I hope Sam already called the cops.

  One more kick and the door flew inward.

  Bodie caught a glimpse of a black-clad figure flying through the air, and then he fired. The intruder was already firing as he rolled. Pop. Pop. Pop.

  Bodie ducked. The killer had a silencer! Something must have happened to Sam or he would be in here by now, which meant no one had called the police.

  Shit. He’d lost Sam, and now he’d lost sight of the intruder.

  All of a sudden the man came straight up from behind the sofa, popping off shot after shot straight at Bodie’s hiding place. And then Bodie was on the floor, blood gushing from his shoulder. The bullet had gone through the wall and into his arm without stopping.

  Get up. Get up. You can’t let him get to Maria.

  He rolled, switching his gun to his other hand. He wasn’t a great shot with his left, but if he got close enough it wouldn’t matter. He crawled down the hall and into the first bedroom, reloa
ding as he went. Then he pushed himself up, using the wall as support, and waited, listening for footsteps and hoping his neighbors had heard enough to call the police.

  The sound of shattering wood, followed by gunshots, was all Maria needed to hear to know that the battle had begun. She was on her knees behind the bed, watching the door and the faint beam of light beneath it, when a sensation of déjà vu suddenly rocked her back on her heels.

  God, oh, God…just like before and that strip of light under the door.

  Some of the gunshots sounded funny. Sort of a firecracker-popping noise. It hit her that he was using a silencer. She heard Bodie return fire, and then a loud, sudden thump before everything went silent. She thought she heard a groan, then a shuffling, crawling noise. Someone was hurt! What if it was Bodie?

  This was crazy. This was hell. The worst night of her life was happening all over again, but she wasn’t four anymore. And she wasn’t helpless. She came up and out from behind the bed in one leap and, in bare feet, moved swiftly to the door. She waited, listening, and then heard the sound of footsteps coming up the hall.

  When Bodie heard the thump from the bedroom next to him, he knew Maria was no longer hiding. He couldn’t wait any longer. He stepped out from the door way with his gun leveled and found himself standing face-to-face with the startled intruder.

  A shot rang out.

  They both dived for cover.

  But Bodie knew a rifle shot when he heard it.

  It was Maria.

  Maria was in the hall, the rifle still on her shoulder, ready to fire again. The fact that Sam was nowhere in sight made her nervous, the blood on Bodie’s shirt even more so. But it was the black-clad figure at the end of the hall on whom she focused.

  The gun hung limply from his hand, as if he’d forgotten it was there, and the look of horror on his face was unmistakable.

  Maria stepped out of the shadows into the light.

  Franklin couldn’t believe it. Sally was armed. He didn’t know she knew how to shoot.

  “You won’t shoot me,” he said.

  Maria frowned. The man had to be crazy. Hell yes, she would shoot him—in a heartbeat.

  “Drop your gun,” she said.

  She heard Bodie groan and then a shuffling noise behind her. “Bodie! Stay down.”

  She could hear him on his cell phone, calling 911, but her gaze was glued to the intruder.

  “I said, drop your gun,” she repeated.

  All of a sudden Franklin flinched. Her words had reminded him that he was armed. He swung the gun up, but not quickly enough.

  The blast from the hunting rifle took him off his feet and slid him down the hall.

  Pain radiated through him like cracks in a broken windshield, spreading outward as the light in the hall began to dim. And then Sally was standing over him, that rifle up against his chest.

  Blood was bubbling from the corner of his mouth as he tried to point up at her.

  “Sally…didn’ know…didn’ know you could shoot.”

  “I’m not Sally,” Maria said. “I’m Maria. And I’m not four—and you don’t scare me anymore.” Then she got down on one knee until they were staring face-to-face. “Just so you know…after you die, I will put your goddamned ashes in a sack and throw them off a bridge into the Arkansas River…just like a litter of unwanted pups.”

  Franklin shuddered. This wasn’t Sally. He didn’t know this woman at all.

  “They won’ let you…. You can’t. They won’t give you my ashes.”

  “Sure they will, Frankie. I’m your daughter. Your blood kin. I can do whatever the hell I choose with your body, you worthless piece of shit.”

  Then she stood and, for a moment, the urge to kick him was so strong that she had to force herself to step away.

  Franklin’s eyes glazed over as she waited for him to take his last breath.

  All of a sudden Bodie was behind her, taking the rifle out of her hand.

  “Let go, Maria. Let go.”

  She swayed; then her fingers loosened.

  The gun slipped from her to him without hitting the floor.

  “He’s not going to hurt anyone else. The police are coming. Hang on with me, baby.”

  She slipped an arm beneath his shoulder, but when she felt him stagger, she knew she couldn’t keep him upright.

  “You need to sit down.”

  “Yeah,” he said, and slid onto the floor, the rifle still in his hand. They could hear the distant sound of sirens. If they hurried, maybe he wouldn’t bleed to death.

  “I’ve got this,” he said. “Sam is outside somewhere…probably behind the house. He has to be hurt or he would be in here. See if you can find him.”

  She stopped in front of the gunman. Her father. “Is he dead yet?”

  “Yeah. He’s dead.”

  “Good,” she said, and then ran through the house to the back door and out into the night.

  But Bodie had lied. He could see the faint rise and fall of the man’s chest. What was weird was, he knew him. Franklin Sheets. Hotshot criminal lawyer with an eye on the district attorney’s job.

  Surprise. Wasn’t going to happen now.

  “Hey, Sheets. Can you hear me?” Bodie said, and then scooted closer, wanting the man to see his face.

  Franklin moaned. Someone was calling his name, but the pain in his chest was so bad. He just wanted to close his eyes until it went away.

  “Sheets!” Bodie yelled, and kicked the bottom of Franklin’s shoe.

  The motion jarred Franklin into a few seconds of lucidity as he opened his eyes.

  “Somebody call 911. I’ve been shot.”

  “I did, but you’re gonna die before they get here.”

  Franklin moaned. This wasn’t how he’d expected the night to end.

  “She shot me.”

  “So did I. It’s gonna be a race to see which bullet kills you, but I’m hoping it’s mine.”

  Franklin blinked. Everything was turning into one solid blur as he began to mumble.

  “You…sworn t’ protect and serve.”

  “Except when you mess with what’s mine,” Bodie said softly. “At that point, all bets are off. You’re a cold-blooded, snake-in-the-grass bastard who doesn’t deserve so much as a flower laid on your grave. The day she tosses your ashes into the river, I’ll be standing beside her watching them sink.”

  Franklin shivered. He could already feel the swirling water of the Arkansas pulling him down, pulling him under.

  Epilogue

  S am was released from the hospital the same day Becky started her summer vacation. The bullet Franklin Sheets had fired had missed every vital organ, except for nicking a lung, which had collapsed. He’d been unconscious when Maria discovered his body, and was still out when they’d loaded both him and Bodie up and whisked them off to Saint Francis.

  Finally he’d healed enough to be released. He and Becky hadn’t lived under the same roof since they were both in their teens, but they were going to do it again now, at least for a while, despite every argument he could make.

  She wasn’t going to take her cruise down to Mexico as she’d planned earlier in the year. She was taking Sam back to his cabin at Lake Eufaula, and whether he liked it or not, she wasn’t leaving until he was able to manage on his own.

  Bodie’s wound had been a through-and-through, and he’d recovered much faster. And while he had yet to be cleared for full duty, he was at home on medical leave, enjoying his time with Maria and the fuss his family was making over the both of them.

  It wasn’t until his family had finally gone home and he had Maria back all to himself that he saw another side of the woman he loved.

  What they hadn’t talked much about, but what he knew was impending, was the dispensation of Franklin Sheets’ estate. What surprised him then was Maria’s immediate claim on his property as his only heir.

  He would have expected her to want that kept under wraps, not set herself up to be quoted in the papers and mentioned for days
on end in every media outlet in the state.

  What he had expected, though, was her desire for revenge, which, once again, reminded him to never piss her off. He just couldn’t have predicted how it would play out.

  She’d kissed his mother goodbye with tears in her eyes, hugged his father and remarked again, for the umpteenth time, how much he and Bodie looked alike, and told them she couldn’t wait for them to come back. She’d stood on the porch waving goodbye and holding his hand, and the moment they drove out of sight, she morphed back into a hard-ass.

  She strode back into the house and was already on the phone with the lawyer she’d hired when he walked inside and closed the door.

  From what he could glean from her side of the conversation, her legal connection to Franklin Sheets had finally been proven through up-to-date DNA. Franklin was unmarried. He had no other next of kin. The estate had to go through probate, but though he’d died without a will, no one else was making any kind of claim on his wealth except for the daughter he’d tried to kill.

  Maria held up a finger at Bodie, as if to beg for a couple more minutes.

  He sat down in the easy chair next to the sofa where she was sitting so he could watch her face.

  “So…you have the full extent of my wishes recorded? Good. When can I come in and sign it?”

  She jotted down a date and time, and then scooted forward on the edge of her seat.

  “One more thing,” she said. “About my father’s ashes…when can I claim them?”

  Bodie’s eyes widened. Holy crap. She’d been serious.

  “Tomorrow? Perfect. And you’ll notify the crematorium? Thank you. You know where to send the bill.”

  She hung up, then sat for a moment without moving, without seeming to breathe.

  “Maria?”

  She jerked as if she’d forgotten he was there, then looked up, her expression still blank.

  “Hmm?”

  “Talk to me.”