Wind Over Marshdale

by Tracy Krauss

  “Hurry. Don’t have all night.” He looked behind himself nervously.

  Beth eyed a fossil about the size of a baseball, with a jagged surface... nearly the wicked texture of coral. She no longer remembered its name but knew it could cause a lot of damage. “Not enough room to lie down. Move the table over more.”

  “Huh? Oh...” When he leaned over to scoot the table with his free hand, Beth latched onto the fossil-rock, swung it up into his face, and sent his dark glasses flying. He yelped and staggered back, holding his upper cheek. With one eye closed from the injury, the criminal moved toward her. And now he was really ticked.

  Already on her feet, Beth still hoped for a better weapon. The fake fireplace had some ornamental implements made of pot metal, but they were way across the room. If Shane were here, he’d pound this creep into the floorboards. But this was all up to Beth.

  “I tried to make this easy.” Blood oozed between his fingers as he clasped the left side of his face. “I was told to leave you alone and just take what they wanted... but you just changed everything.” He kept his eyes on Beth mostly, but briefly inspected the facial blood on his hand.

  Beth backed slowly, trying to remember how far the couch was behind her. “Like I said before, take whatever it is.” Her calf hit the sofa. Looking quickly left and right, she tried to figure the fastest escape route.

  “Put down that... rock... thing.”

  “No way.” Trying to skirt the couch to her right, she moved sideways one step. “Get what you want and leave.”

  The intruder was apparently unable to decide whether to deal with Beth or continue his bizarre search.

  Beth took another sidestep and reached the corner of her couch. Then a slow backward move, with her eyes fixed on the confused robber.

  “Stay right there!” He waggled the stun gun and took several quick looks at the bookcase. His bony fingers knocked down dozens of books as he searched.

  Beth inched backward. At this pace, she might reach her back door by sometime Sunday morning.

  Just as the reeking man had finally found something of possible interest, a noise from the street startled him. This was a fairly quiet neighborhood, even late on Saturday nights, but high schoolers sometimes congregated across the street and down a few doors. Usually a nuisance, it was welcome at this point because it spooked the creep. Next-to-next door, the huge German Shepherd barked vigorously.

  Obviously alarmed by the outside noises, the criminal grabbed something from the bookcase, stuffed it under the front of his hoody, and dashed for the back door. As he hurried past Beth, he hissed loudly and struck her face with the butt of the stun gun. The blow knocked her over onto the couch.

  When the intruder reached the back door, Beth got to her knees on the cushions and threw the fossil as hard as she could. It hit the small of his back and he screamed like a little girl. He scrambled through the door and disappeared into the darkness of her back yard... headed in the opposite direction of the barking. He left the door wide open.

  Beth raced to the fireplace, clutched the faux poker, hurriedly closed and latched the back door, dead bolted the front door, grabbed her cell phone, and locked herself in the bathroom. While she dealt with her agitated bladder, she also called 9-1-1.

  Later, waiting for the police to arrive, Beth huddled on her couch with feet up, knees drawn in, and arms around her shins. In over four years together with Shane, she’d hardly ever feared anything besides California earthquakes. But now she was terrified. Vulnerable, confused, unprotected. Shane’s muscular, sheltering arms remained in Long Beach when she had to move here nearly three years ago. Suddenly Beth craved his sturdy comfort.

  Moments before in the bathroom, she’d seen her injury: a knot on her right cheekbone. Probably would bruise later, but presently it just ached. She held ice cubes in a washcloth against it gently. Beth had smooth and even skin, with a light tan which would fade quickly as October progressed. Working in a two-person office, she didn’t usually wear much makeup, but she’d definitely need some coverage for this shiner.

  No sirens—probably because the 9-1-1 dispatcher had verified the criminal was already gone. When the flashing lights appeared, the teenagers’ noise stopped, so perhaps they thought the cops hadc come for them. Several cars started up and hurried away.

  Beth opened the front door before the police had time to knock. Just one officer: a corporal who looked vaguely familiar, though she couldn’t place him. Slightly less than average height; about forty pounds overweight, with most of the extra around his stomach and neck. His service pistol was drawn and his flashlight blinded her.

  She shielded her eyes and invited him in. “He’s gone. Left out the back door, heading, uh, south.” She checked her wall clock. Nine-fifteen. “About ten minutes ago.”

  The corporal cleared each room anyway, evidently part of his training. He spoke something into his collar radio and then returned to the living room where Beth huddled on the couch. He holstered his weapon and pulled out a small notebook.

  Realizing he looked for a seat, Beth motioned to the wooden rocker off to the side. A last name of James was on his tag.

  Corporal James put his heavy flashlight on the coffee table and settled into the chair.

  Beth answered questions as best she could. She’d kept it together while waiting for police to arrive, but after someone protective was there, she began crying again. The officer visually scanned the living room while she sobbed.

  Another vehicle arrived outside. “I called for the EMT guys... that’s probably them now.” It was.

  “Hey, Tom.” The medic carried what looked like a gigantic tackle box. “Need me to wait while you finish the questions?” He was tall and handsome, like the hero in a romance novel. Muscular. Impossibly attractive.

  Beth blinked. Do guys actually look this good... in Greene County, Tennessee? But she’d lost a good piece of her heart, so the medic—Arnie, according to his tag—interested her mainly as a curiosity.

  The corporal waved him over but didn’t relinquish the rocker.

  Arnie perched on the couch and motioned for Beth to remove her washcloth. “Hmm. What hit you?”

  She shrugged slightly. “A stun gun, I guess, but it didn’t zap. Maybe the other end of it.”

  Arnie slipped on his latex gloves and touched her cheek gently.

  She winced.

  “Move your jaw...”

  “How?”

  “Like you’re chewing real tough barbecue.” Arnie demonstrated.

  It looked funny on the handsome medic and Beth started to chuckle, but her pain quelled that impulse. “Ow!” She resumed subdued chewing, however.

  “Not likely fractured. But it’ll bruise pretty good.” He eyed her homemade ice pack and reached into his tool box for a proper compress—the kind which immediately freezes when activated. He massaged the cold pack and handed it over. “Keep ice on there for about fifteen minutes every hour. Should help with the swelling. You got any pain relievers?”

  Beth nodded.

  “Take as many as you need, but stay within the dosage. If you have any sleeping pills, take one tonight.” He held up a single muscular finger.

  “For a bruised cheekbone?”

  Arnie shook his handsome face sideways. “To get you settled down after...”

  Noise erupted outside Beth’s front door. Connie Bryan rushed inside, ignoring the policeman trying to block her. She landed on the couch, between Beth and Arnie, in a clumsy but tight embrace of her friend. “What on earth? Are you okay? What happened?” Then she noticed Arnie. “Who’s he?”

  “Robbery... just a bruised cheek... and I’ll introduce you.”

  Connie didn’t wait. “Connie Bryan. Pleased to meet you, Arnie.” Name tags were distinctly helpful for semi-desperate women.

  The corporal moved closer, likely to learn more about this bustling female.

  “This is my friend, Connie. We were going to a late movie.”

  “What were you going
to see?” Arnie was probably just making polite conversation, but he’d been watching Connie since her energetic entrance.

  “Can’t even remember now,” Beth moaned. “A chick flick.” Verdeville had a four-screen theater at the mall.

  Connie leaned quite close and whispered. “Dee-lish. He’d be good for you. About time you started dating, you know. Do you want him?”

  Beth watched Arnie’s eyes and figured he’d heard some of those whispers. He’d been monitoring Beth as a patient, but he apparently scanned the vivacious Connie as a prospect. “He’s all yours, Connie,” she whispered, but even the corporal must have heard it, because a thin smile formed on his pudgy face.

  Most women would have been embarrassed by this scene with stage whispers, but Connie just smiled and wiggled her upper torso in that way she often did with her upper arms pushing her breasts together. She probably intended it to appear coy, but on thirty-five-year-old Connie it just looked like appetite.

  Arnie couldn’t help smiling back. But he made himself focus on Beth again. “Any other injuries? Anything I need to examine?”

  Carefully holding the compress in place, Beth moved her head sideways.

  “Well, Arnie, if you run out of things to scrutinize...” Everyone knew the ending.

  “Tom, I’m through with her if you want to finish your questions.” Arnie grunted when he stood. A strong, manly grunt, like a stud bull.

  Connie extended her hand. “Didn’t catch your last name, Arnie.”

  He grinned and reached into his left chest pocket for a card.

  Connie pulled it to her bosom with both hands. “I should give you mine... in case you need a good deal for a new or used Chrysler-Dodge-Plymouth-Jeep.” As though she were checking for a card in the pockets not even present in those tightly tailored slacks, Connie patted her hips, which caught Arnie’s eyes again. “Must’ve left my purse in the car. Hold on a sec. Now, don’t you dare leave yet.” She hustled out the front door and Arnie watched her all the way. Most men did. After the divorce two years ago, Connie dieted and exercised herself into great shape and made sure she stayed that way.

  Arnie and the corporal exchanged glances; both unsuccessfully tried not to grin. For some reason, their obvious thoughts made Beth want to smile, but the swollen cheek restrained her.

  Connie was back within a long minute. “Can I borrow your pen?”

  The medic produced it.

  “Uh, need something to write against.”

  When Arnie rolled his left shoulder forward, Connie nearly squealed with delight. She placed the card on his shoulder blade and sighed heavily... then scribbled something. “My office number’s on the front, if you’re interested in cars. But if you want to talk about anything else, my cell phone’s on the back.” She manufactured a reason to squeeze Arnie’s upper arm while she slid the card off his shoulder. “Oooh. Where do you work out?”

  Beth rolled her eyes. A few minutes before, this had been about the break-in at her cottage... but suddenly it was all about Connie angling for a date.

  Arnie came back over to Beth at the couch. “Sorry, this... uh, situation happened. Hope you’ll be all right.” He pointed to her cheek. “Just ice it about fifteen minutes each hour.”

  “I will. Thanks for your help.” She watched the medic leave.

  So did Connie... with a bit of drool on her lips. She followed Arnie out to his vehicle where they resumed talking.

  Corporal James shook his head and grinned. “Arnie drives ‘em wild... he does.”

  Astraea Press

  Pure. Fiction.

  www.astraeapress.com