“Those kids in the park... that was you?” My head started spinning. Cass was behind the attack?
“How else was I going to convince you to move in with me? I had to get rid of the retard. Those thugs were going to jail on a drug charge. I made the drugs disappear from the evidence room. They weren’t supposed to beat you so badly. I told them to rough you up, scare you, not almost kill you. If I ever run into them again...”
Breathe, I told myself. I could hear Stewie’s little whine beginning from behind the curtain. The shaking in my hands moved up my arms to my shoulders and down through my chest. Cass was worse than I thought. He was more dangerous than I realized.
Escape wasn’t my only objective now. I had to become Houdini and make me and Stewie disappear for good.
I took a deep steady breath. “So what do we do now?” I asked.
Cass didn’t answer me right away; he pursed his lips, thinking. Then he reached into his jacket and pulled out his Glock. I sucked air in through my mouth like a fish out of water.
“Now we get rid of unwanted liabilities.” He flicked the safety off. “I think this will help your loyalty problem.”
“I don’t have a loyalty problem,” I murmured fearfully, misunderstanding what he was saying. He couldn’t kill me. There would be an investigation. Like Ellen? My mind sputtered. Oh God...
Cass walked over to me, laying a cool hand on my cheek. “You won’t after I take out the source of your confusion. Come out here, Stewie.”
“No!” I yelled, pushing Cass away. “Stay back Stewie!”
“Stop it! You are MY wife!” Cass grabbed me by the hair and threw me on the floor. He brought his hand down, the one holding the gun, and hit me. I saw stars. Lots of them. Then I saw Stewie knock down the screen and tackle Cass.
Cass was smaller, slighter than Stewie, but he was in full rage mode. They were an even match. I scrambled to my feet to help Stewie. Hands gripped my elbows.
“Let me go!” I screeched, wriggling against the hold.
“Calm down,” Shorty ordered.
Cass punched Stewie in the stomach. Stewie folded in half and hit the floor, landing on his knees. Cass raised the gun at Stewie. Everything that happened next was like a dream, transpiring in slow motion. It all fell apart in a matter of seconds, but it felt like hours.
I twisted around far enough to bring my knee up and smash Shorty’s privates into his rib cage. He howled, hitting the floor, hands between his legs. Magoo stood in the corner like a statue.
I dove in front of Stewie just as Cass fired. Hot searing pain ripped through my shoulder. I landed hard on the cold linoleum floor.
“Cherry!” Stewie shook my arm. I screamed.
“You hurt her!” he roared. I heard scuffling and Cass swearing. Then a few muted thumps. I rolled over to see what was happening. Stewie was on top of Cass, banging his head on the floor.
“Stewie... No...” I croaked out.
He looked at me. His face was screwed into a hostile mask, so unlike the innocent look he usually wore. He climbed off Cass and crawled over to me.
“Oh, Cherry!” He started crying. “Are you okay? What are we going to do?”
Stewie rocked back and forth on his knees, waiting for me to tell him what to do. What the heck could we do? I’d been shot. I was bleeding all over the place. Stewie was a blubbering mess. I closed my eyes trying to concentrate.
“Lift up. Lay here,” I heard.
Stewie lifted me in his arms. He hobbled a few steps to lay me down on the table he had vacated. Poor Stewie. I was sure he was in pain too.
I opened my eyes to look into the face of Mr. Magoo. He poked and prodded at my shoulder. I bit my lip to keep from screaming again.
“Flesh wound, through and through. You okay,” he told me before turning to rifle through his medicine cabinet. He pulled out a bottle of water and a bottle of peroxide. He put the items on a wheeled cart and walked back to me. He cut my shirt and peeled off the material around my shoulder.
Magoo took a wad of cloth and poured peroxide over it and sponged my shoulder. He took another wad of cloth and poured the water over it and handed it to Stewie.
“Press down here.” He took Stewie’s hands and held them to my wound. I yelped. Stewie looked like he was going to pass out.
“I’m okay,” I assured him, even though I was anything but.
After about ten minutes the blood stopped oozing and Magoo rolled me to my side to cut the back of my shirt to cleanse the exit wound. Then he wrapped yards of padded gauze around my shoulder. Making a sling from one of the dressing gowns, he secured my arm over my chest.
“You need a doctor,” Magoo instructed calmly.
“I can’t go to a doctor. They’ll call the police.”
Magoo helped me sit up. Stewie stared at me like he expected me to sprout wings. I managed a smile for him. Magoo pulled a black bag from a closet. He dug around, extracting a prescription bottle.
“Antibiotics,” he shoved the bottle into my hand.
“Thanks.” I gave Magoo a side glance. “Why are you helping us?”
“I don’t like them.” He nodded toward the unconscious Cass and a still groaning Shorty. Made sense to me.
“C’mon Stewie, we gotta bail.” I ignored the lightheadedness that threatened to take over when I stood up.
“Get to a doctor,” Magoo instructed.
I nodded. Stewie slipped his pack onto his back, slinging mine over one shoulder as he supported my weight with his free arm. We made our way to the elevator. I said a quick prayer as the ping sounded and the doors opened. Empty.
I tried to concentrate on our next move, but the drowsiness was setting in, making it hard to focus. I took a quick inventory of our supplies. We had a thousand dollars and a diamond wedding set. That was the good news. The bad news was that we had no vehicle, no change of clothes—which I was sorely in need of—we had nowhere to go, and Cass would be hot on our trail when he came to.
“Stewie...” I mumbled, feeling the blackness creeping in. “You have to hide us.”
“Where should I hide us, Cherry?” He sounded scared. I opened my mouth to suggest a few places, but everything went dark.
Chapter Thirteen
Something smelled bad. Something was scratchy and sticking me in the back. My mouth was dry, and despite the eighty degree weather, I was cold. Wherever I was, I was moving. I opened my eyes.
I was in a trailer of some sort. Moonlight sliced through small slatted gaps giving me enough light to see the scratchy stuff poking at me was hay. Great, I was in a horse trailer. That was the smell.
Stewie lay curled next to me, his mouth slack, dribbling drool down his chin. I reached over to tap his shoulder. I instantly regretted that move. Pain shot like lightning from my shoulder to the tips of my fingers.
“Mother of pearl!” I hissed through clenched teeth.
“Cherry?” Stewie was immediately alert. His wide childlike eyes filled with question.
“I’m okay.” I wasn’t. I needed about ten Percocet and maybe a morphine drip. This hole in my shoulder was throbbing with a life of its own.
“Where are we?”
“In a horse trailer,” he whispered dramatically.
“I know, buddy. But where are we?”
“I don’t know. I fell asleep.”
Great. We were trapped in a moving vehicle with no idea where we were going.
Think Cherry.
I closed my eyes. Nothing came to me. All I could focus on was the steady thrumming of the blood pulsing in my arm. The trailer slowed to a stop. I looked at Stewie, mouthing, Stay quiet.
Two doors opened and slammed shut, quiet voices fading as they walked away. When I was sure they were gone, I nodded at Stewie.
“Help me up,” I said.
“Wow. You feel hot, Cherry,” he said, reaching down to help me stand.
I was freezing. My teeth were chattering. Great, a fever. Where were those pills Magoo gave me? They were in the
zipper of my pack. Without water to take them I had to choke one down. It wasn’t easy.
“You don’t look so good.” He started rocking back and forth.
“I’m fine.” I tried to reassure him. A wave of nausea washed over me. I braced myself on the wall of the trailer so I didn’t fall when the world began to swirl around me.
“Cherry!” he yelled. “Maybe you should lay down.”
I agreed, sinking to the floor.
The doors of the trailer swung wide. Two tall silhouettes stood before us.
“Holy night,” one whispered.
“You two need to get out,” the other voice ordered. I heard the faint twang of an accent.
“Cherry’s sick,” Stewie blurted.
“I’m fine,” I lied, struggling to get upright.
“No, you’re not,” Stewie insisted. He looked at the two shadows and repeated himself more emphatically. “She’s sick.”
“We don’t take kindly to addicts. Ya’ll will have to get your fix elsewhere, ma’am,” the second man said. He wasn’t unkind about it. His tone was gentle, but there was a definite firmness along with the lazy drawl of a southerner.
“Cherry doesn’t do drugs,” Stewie said with a touch of hostility. “She’s hurt. Cass shot her.”
I groaned. I’d forgotten to tell him to keep quiet about that.
“That true?” the man asked.
“Yes. It was an accident,” I said. It wasn’t really a lie. Cass was going to shoot Stewie. It was an accident that he shot me.
The man let out a heavy sigh and turned to address the other man beside him.
“Cort, you take this boy to our room. I’ll bring the girl.”
“I’m not leaving her.” Stewie backed into me, bumping my arm. I howled. He jumped away from me. “I’m sorry, Cherry!” He started crying.
“Shhh, it’s okay buddy. I know you didn’t mean it,” I said gasping for air. “Go on. Go with Cort.” I said the man’s name hoping Stewie would feel more comfortable. Saying the man’s name inferred familiarity. I learned that on an episode of NCIS. It worked. Stewie hopped out of the trailer and followed Cort.
“Where’re you shot?” the mystery man asked.
“In my shoulder. I had a doctor look at it. He gave me antibiotics, but no pain killers.”
“What kind of doctor doesn’t give pain killers for a bullet wound?” he wondered out loud.
“The kind that doesn’t work in a hospital.”
The metal trailer creaked as he climbed in.
“I need to touch you in order to help you out of the trailer,” he said.
“Yeah.” Duh.
“Okay then.” He slipped his arm around my waist, carefully avoiding my arm. I clutched the waist of his jeans for additional support. “Easy does it.”
He dragged me to the edge of the trailer, hopped off, and then turned to lift me down. “You alright?” he asked in that soothing voice. I nodded, mashing my lips together to keep from screaming.
In one swift fluid motion, he lifted me into his arms. I leaned into him, resting my head on his shoulder. He walked with an easy gait, as if he wasn’t holding a hundred and fifty pounds of me in his arms. My face rested in the crook of his neck. I could smell the scent of soap and sunshine, a clean smell. Unlike Cass, who always wore cologne.
I closed my eyes. Just for a minute.
* * * *
Someone was whispering. More like two or three people.
“Go fish,” Stewie giggled.
“Dang, I was sure you had sevens,” another voice, Cort.
“Keep it down. She needs her sleep.” That tranquil voice I liked so much.
“Sorry, Gideon,” Stewie said. “We don’t have to play.”
“It’s alright, Stewie. Ya’ll just have to keep it down.”
I smiled. They were good with Stewie. That said a lot. I opened my eyes, blinking a few times to get my bearings. From the bed I was tucked into, I saw Stewie sitting at a table across from a gangly kid who couldn’t be much older than me. His auburn hair was cut short and his legs stretched out under the table for miles. His eyes crinkled when he laughed, which he was doing as Stewie cleaned him out of fours.
“Welcome back.” That smooth voice intoned.
I rolled to the right. Sitting on the other bed, his equally long legs stretched out over the bedspread, was the man that went with the voice. He wasn’t bulky, but his lean muscled arms had the look of hard coiled rope. The T-shirt he wore wasn’t tight, but it fit snugly against his chest.
I couldn’t see his face; the lamp was in the way. Reading my mind, he scooted forward. I found myself anxious to see what kind of face went with such a mild-mannered voice.
I was slightly surprised. He was far from angelic looking. His short hair was the color of toasted chestnuts. A blend of dark and light browns with hints of blond here and there. His features weren’t classic; they were rugged. A couple days’ worth of stubble covered his square chin. His nose looked like it had been broken once and hadn’t been set properly, it was slightly askew. He had that cowboy look about him, rough and ready.
“My name is Gideon Shepherd. That’s my brother, Cort.”
I glanced at Cort. He smiled and tipped an imaginary hat at me.
“Cherry, are you feeling better?” Stewie abandoned the card game and slid onto the bed. I patted his arm.
“Yes, I am.” But the arm was still thumping.
“Would you like a drink?” Gideon asked.
“Yes, please.”
Gideon got up, lifted the lid of a travel sized cooler, and withdrew a can of Ginger Ale. He unwrapped one of the complimentary paper cups and poured the soda into it. I watched him, fascinated with his thoughtfulness.
“I stitched up your wound, both sides. There doesn’t seem to be any infection. But you’ll need to keep an eye on it.” He dropped three capsules of extra strength Tylenol onto my palm before handing me the soda. “Here, take these.”
“Thanks,” I said. “Are you a doctor?”
“No. I’m studying to be a large animal vet.”
“Oh.”
Gideon nodded to Cort.
“Hey Stewie, you gonna leave me hangin’ here?” Cort laughed. His voice wasn’t as deep or soothing as Gideon’s, but he shared the same drawl. Stewie looked at me, conflicted.
“Go ahead, I’m good,” I told him.
He hopped off the bed and shuffled excitedly over to the table.
“I thought it might be easier to talk if he was otherwise occupied,” Gideon said.
“Good thinking,” I said, trying to sit up. It wasn’t working with only one arm. Gideon reached under my arms and pulled me into a sitting position, then stacked pillows behind me for support.
“I’m not sure how we ended up in your trailer,” I began.
“Stewie already explained. You told him to hide. He saw our trailer and climbed in.”
“Ah...” Good thinking, Stewie. Gideon’s eyes were leveled on my face. He’s waiting for me to tell him what happened. What should I say? Instinct told me to lie. Lying is safer.
“Are you runnin’ from the law?” he asked quietly, sitting down on the other bed again.
“Good question. I’m not entirely sure if saying no is the correct answer.” Now why’d I admit that?
His brows folded together, confused.
“Sorry. I don’t mean to sound so mysterious.” I ran my tongue over my lips. I noticed Gideon’s expression didn’t change. I took a deep breath. “We were in the wrong place at the wrong time. I don’t know if anyone knew we were there or not.” It was the truth. The truth condensed without specifics, but still true.
Out the corner of my eye I saw Cort and Gideon exchange a look.
“When did all of this happen?” Gideon asked, leaning his forearms on his knees, lacing his fingers together. He knew there was more to it than what I was telling them.
“Uh, what day is it?”
“Thursday.”
“It happe
ned this afternoon, around 2:00, I think.” My stomach growled. “Where are we?”
“We’re in Charleston, West Virginia.”
That was a good head start. I was relieved, very relieved. My stomach growled again. I put my hand over it to silence the demand.
Gideon got up, crossed the room and reached into the cooler again. He pulled out a sandwich, unwrapped it, and handed it to me. I accepted it and took a big bite of bologna and cheese.
“Thanks,” I said between bites. He nodded, his face serious.
“Where’re ya’ll headed?” Cort asked.
“As far as we can get,” I said around a bite of sandwich.
“We’re headed home. We can take you as far as that,” Gideon said quietly. I heard what he wasn’t saying. He didn’t want to be involved.
“I understand. I... we appreciate any help you can give.” I wasn’t mad that they didn’t want mixed up with us. I didn’t want to be involved either. But the fact that they had already helped us so much and were going to give us a ride to wherever was fine by me.
* * * *
Sleep was impossible. The shoulder had its own heartbeat. Stewie was softly snoring beside me. Cort and Gideon were sound asleep in the next bed. I carefully slipped out from under the covers and went to the bathroom. I closed the door then switched on the light. The face in the mirror was a shock.
Half of my face was pasty pale. The other half was swollen with patches of red and blue-black discoloration. My hair was tangled and dirty. Terrific. No wonder they thought I was a junkie. My New Year’s resolution was going to be to not get injured, beat up, or shot at in the next year.
I cleaned myself up, turned out the light, and opened the door, tiptoeing across the room to the window. Peeling back the side of the curtain, I stared out into the night. The parking lot was empty except for a stray cat stealthily skimming across the blacktop.
What a mess we were in. I had to think of what we were going to do when we got to our destination. Cass would probably have feelers out all over the city by now. Stewie and I weren’t exactly inconspicuous. I dipped my hand into my pocket, feeling the cold metal of the rings. I had to hock these for more money. Maybe we could buy a car. Wouldn’t be much of one, but as long as it was drivable I didn’t care.
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