“It’s George. George Frank. And you are one, in a long list of obstacles.”
“What am I obstructing?”
He studied me speculatively.
“Alright,” he said. “I’ll spare a minute or two to enlighten you.”
I waited, hoping he’d take enough time for the police to arrive. They were my only hope.
No, they weren’t! I started praying.
“I’ve been working on this for six years. It was Alfred’s idea at first. Remove all of the Bannermans, and he would be next in line to inherit everything.”
“Are you talking about Alfred Sullivan?” I asked, for the 911 operator’s benefit, if she was still on the line.
“Correct. There weren’t many Bannermans, and it should have been simple. We had all sorts of problems along the way, though.”
He paced back and forth, but kept the gun trained on me.
“Your boyfriend has been at the root of all of it. First, he didn’t get in the car with his parents. Everything would have been wrapped up nice and easy right then, if he had. But he didn’t, he stayed at home instead, and so an heir remained. So, we had to wait. There couldn’t be another accident so soon after the first one.”
Oh my goodness. If the 911 operator was still on the line… she was about to get a murder confession.
This guy was arrogant, reverse psychology was my best bet.
“Miles Bannerman’s parents were killed in a drunk driving accident six years ago. You had nothing to do with it,” I scoffed.
“I set that up, that was all me,” he said proudly. “People assume it was a drunk that did it, because of it being New Year’s Eve.”
“Okay. Then what else? That can’t be all there was to your plan, you said there were lots of obstacles.”
“Uncle Alfred pushed your boyfriend off the cliff, for which he is now doing plenty of time. But he failed, somehow your boyfriend survived.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t try to stop Miles from testifying,” I said.
“Why would I do that?” George snorted a laugh. “I wanted him to testify.”
I’m sure I looked confused. That puzzle piece got lost somewhere along the way.
“Your boyfriend did me one favor, I’ll grant him that, in getting Al convicted.”
“Why, then, was Bea Cochran at the trial, if not to try and interfere with Miles testifying?” I asked, really wanting to know.
“With Bea there, I had an idea how the trial was progressing. If Al was convicted and nicely locked away in prison, he wouldn’t be able to stand here holding his hand out, demanding his share, after tonight is over.”
I prayed tonight would end differently than he planned for it to.
George wasn’t through talking.
“If he went free, then we would’ve had to initiate the plan to take him out, first. That would’ve given you a little more time, but the ending would still be the same.”
I cleared my throat.
“So what about the Hendersons, the previous caretakers for the estate? What happened, why did you want them to leave?”
“The estate had to run down, so Polly Bannerman’s competency would be called in to question once the heir was eliminated. No heir, a rattled old lady that allowed the estate to fall into ruin, and Uncle Al would have a good chance of being named trustee. The Hendersons had to go, so we scared them off. I didn’t mean to scare the old man to death, but I can’t say my conscience is troubled over it.”
Kind of hard to trouble what doesn’t exist…
“So why didn’t you try to scare me away?” I asked.
Oh, if only they had! Miles, with his superpowers, would have dealt with them most efficiently, if they’d troubled me in any way!
“By the time you came along, we were confident your boyfriend couldn’t hold on much longer. You cleaning up the estate so it would be ready when we took possession, was in our best interests.”
“You started stealing from the estate, to finance your drug habit,” I noticed his dilated eyes, “and the people you hired to make claims against Miles’ commitment to me, and the technology you needed to pull off your surveillance. You dressed in a dark hooded cloak and made Polly Bannerman think the estate was haunted, in case you were spotted.”
George kept the gun trained on me, as he paced back and forth.
“That’s right. You’re pretty sharp.” George looked at me admiringly, which made me feel sick. “You nearly caught me more than once. Gutsy, too, taking on Bea like that, and her so much bigger than you. It’s too bad…”
I kept talking. I had to keep this guy distracted!
“Alfred Sullivan was convicted just two weeks ago, for attempting to murder Miles Bannerman. Why didn’t he name you as an accomplice?”
“I’ve got worse than that on Uncle Al. He’s better off serving time for attempted murder, than facing the chair for murder.”
“Why does Bea Cochran hate me?”
I wanted him to keep talking, plus I did wonder. I also wondered where the police were!
George rolled his eyes.
“I don’t know, she gets that way. That’s just Bea. You’ve got everything she wants, it’s not fair, so she hates you. Don’t take it personal.”
I almost laughed.?
“Why did you put an X on our wedding date?”
“Because that day will never come,” he said, his voice ice cold, and the sense of darkness surrounding him grew even darker as he said it. George shook his head. Lost in thought, he seemed to be speaking as much to himself, as to me.
“I don’t know how your boyfriend did it, but he came back from the dead. Nobody could have survived that fall. Knowing him, he already put you in his will. It’s too bad really, I admire your spirit. But you’re another obstacle, and that makes me, your worst nightmare.”
A wave of anger washed over his face.
“There, I satisfied your curiosity. It’s time to call your boyfriend!”
George reached out to knock on the wall next to my bed, as I cried out, and tried to stop him.
The deafening blast of his gun tore the air, and I froze.
His ugly, dilated eyes stared at me venomously. “That was a warning. You move again, and I guarantee I won’t miss.”
My heart was pounding out of my chest. Where are the police? He kept the gun pointed in my direction and aimed the Taser at the doorway.
The door to the apartment flew open.
“Miles, no!” I screamed. “He has a Taser and a gun!”
But Miles was there, in the doorway. There was steel in his hazel eyes, as he faced George Frank.
George sneered, as he looked back.
“This would have been over months ago, if you’d just died like you should have. It didn’t have to end this way.”
“Since it’s me you want, then let her go,” Miles said evenly. “She’s no threat to you. Whatever it is you’re after, if it’s the inheritance you want, you can have it. I’ll sign everything over to you right now. I can do an electronic transfer. Just let her go.”
As if I could ever leave, with Miles still in danger!
“She’s part of the plan now,” said George, in an eerily calm voice. “It won’t work without her.”
“What is your plan?” Miles asked. I could see in his eyes he already knew, and was stalling for time.
“You’re both in between me and the Bannerman fortune, but your family’s had too many accidents. We can’t have any more of those, or unsolved murders, either. I don’t want the police looking in my direction, which they might, after Uncle Al’s failed attempt.”
He stood there staring at Miles, and we were silent, waiting. Why wouldn’t the police come! It felt like we’d been standing here for hours! I continued my running prayer for help. I was sure Miles was praying, too. Divine intervention gave Miles a second chance at life once before, and I just hoped his life would be protected now. He was a good man if there ever was one, and—he should live.
“The two of you are both the problem, and the solution,” George smirked. “You’ve been going out behind her back all year. Fed up, she retaliated and did the same. You’re furious, so you confront her. It turns violent. You shoot her, and then remorseful, turn the gun on yourself.”
I knew that was his plan as soon as I saw the Taser, but hearing him say it, a cold chill washed over me and I was engulfed by a wave of nausea.
We had to keep him talking, and keep praying that help would arrive.
“You went to a lot of trouble to make sure we wouldn’t have reason to doubt each other,” I said.
“The plan wouldn’t work if you broke up,” he replied.
“An awful lot of people know we were together, when we were accused of being with other people,” Miles said.
“The seeds of doubt are planted. People want to believe the worst. And you will murder her, then commit suicide. This Taser will render you helpless. Then it’ll be simple to make you hold the gun and pull the trigger, shooting first her, and then yourself. It’s brilliant. No more heirs to get in the way. Uncle Al is busy in prison, and I’m next in line.”
He’s psychotic. So incredibly intelligent and meticulous in some ways, and completely off balance in others. Based on the evidence that would be left behind, no forensic investigator would come to the conclusion he wanted them to. He’d never get away with it. But that would help us too little, too late, if he went through with it. Where are the police!
“You don’t have to do this,” Miles said firmly. “You can have what you want, you don’t have to kill anyone else to get it. I’ll transfer everything over right now, I won’t turn you into the police, or come after you. Just please, let her go. She’s never hurt anyone, she doesn’t deserve this. I’ll give you what you want, you don’t have to take it. You can have everything, that’s all I’m asking for. Just let her go.”
“Like I would trust you!” sneered George.
“Just because you’re a lying creep, doesn’t mean he is!” I snapped. I was really getting fed up with this jerk. “This is your only chance, you’re not even blood related! How do you figure you’re next in line to inherit anything?”
George’s eyes narrowed, and for a fraction of a second I saw doubt and hesitation… and then it was gone.
“Enough talk! You—” he aimed the Taser at Miles. “Get over here.”
He motioned for Miles to step further into the room. The Taser wouldn’t reach him where he was standing now.
I shook my head and begged Miles with my eyes not to do it.
“You get moving, or I shoot her now, and I won’t be shooting to put her out of her misery!”
George pointed the gun straight at me, and Miles quickly took a step forward.
“No!” I couldn’t let Miles do this! I’d die no matter what, but he had a chance!
I threw my water bottle as hard as I could, at the gun in George’s hand.
With a deafening blast and at point blank range, he fired.
There was a hard thump against my chest, and it felt as though I’d been hit by a shockwave. I prayed Miles would be okay without me, as I stumbled, blood soaking my shirt faster than I could press my hands to my heart to stop it. George was thrown back and hit the wall of my bedroom hard, his gun falling to the floor.
Past and present merged, and one thought filled my mind. I was over the bed in an instant, grabbed George’s gun with both hands, and turned toward Miles as he crossed the floor to reach me. In the doorway behind him stood Blondie, her gun aimed at his back.
“MILES!” I screamed.
He ducked and dove to the side, Blondie raised her gun, and I squeezed the trigger as hard as I could.
There were two ear-splitting blasts in quick succession. Blondie fell hard and lay motionless, her gun sliding across the hardwood floor. Judging from the rapidly growing blood stain on the front of her shirt, she wasn’t going to give anyone any more trouble tonight.
Miles jumped to his feet and reached me as I collapsed against the side of the bed, the gun slipping out of my hands. I closed my eyes, I didn’t want to see the blood that soaked my shirt and seeped between my fingers, as I clutched my chest.
“Are you hurt?” Miles was frantic.
“He shot me,” I said, tears running down my cheeks. I didn’t want to leave Miles, but it couldn’t be a good sign that I was covered in blood, and didn’t feel anything after being shot at point-blank range.
“He didn’t, but did she?” asked Miles, panic in his voice as he forced my hands out of the way, and searched frantically for a gunshot wound.
I felt confusion.
“What?”
“He didn’t hit you,” Miles said. “But did she?”
I opened my eyes and looked at my hands. What I thought was blood, looked suspiciously like water. I looked beside me and saw my empty water bottle blasted nearly in half.
“She didn’t get me,” I said, suddenly realizing I wasn’t about to die, and— “Watch the hands, Mister!”
Miles half-laughed, half-sobbed. He nearly crushed me in a hug, and I hugged him back just as hard. I would be happy to never let go again.
For several minutes we stayed there on the floor, intent on breathing and drawing assurance that we were both still alive, and apparently uninjured, impossible as that was. Because… it was impossible. What just happened?
“Are you okay?” Miles asked softly.
“I think so,” I said quietly. “I don’t understand though…”
I suddenly remembered George, and looked beside us. He was motionless, imbedded in the wall.
That gun didn’t recoil enough to throw me halfway through a wall, not that I was complaining, but I was a lot smaller than him. Nothing about that made sense. I looked at Miles, utterly perplexed. He looked back at me softly. He wasn’t perplexed at all. He knew exactly what happened, I could see it in his eyes.
Realization slowly began to dawn.
“Did you…?” I asked, and Miles nodded, as my eyes widened in shock.
I suddenly remembered the 911 operator, who might still be on the phone listening. I clamped my hand over his mouth, as he started to speak. There were things best not recorded, such as conversations involving superpowers!
“I had 911 on the phone...” I explained, as I unclamped his mouth.
Miles smiled, and brought my iPhone to me with a lift of his hand. I sat there on the floor still holding onto him, staring into his amazing eyes, my fiancé the superhero. I tried to gather enough wits to see if the operator was still on the line.
Miles held the phone to my ear, and I asked, “Are you still there?”
The 911 operator was. I told her yes, she heard shots fired and yes, there were two people down, the guy that broke into my apartment and his accomplice. One was shot, the other was… Oh. They were both shot. Send two ambulances.
Miles muted the phone, then stood and lifted me up with him.
“You’re soaking wet,” he commented, his own t-shirt rather damp now, too.
“Yeah, my water bottle I guess? Is that what hit me? I felt something, I thought it was a bullet.”
“Yeah. Sorry about that,” he said, as he picked up my robe and held it for me so I could put it on. “I got to it as fast as I could, but I had to stop the bullet and disarm and immobilize George, first.”
I stared at him some more as he led me out of the bedroom and past Blondie, who lay motionless on the floor where she’d fallen.
“I knew you had good reflexes, but this is just… incomprehensible,” I said, as we reached the couch and sat down.
Miles started to speak, but police burst through the front door, guns raised.
“Hands where I can see them!” yelled one of the officers.
Miles and I did as we were told. Maybe this was standard procedure, but I had a phone in my hand… and Miles and I were both in pajamas. It seemed pretty obvious we weren’t the ones doing the breaking and entering!
Other than the wall with
the man imbedded in it. Miles sure broke that. I doubt the building owner will press charges over it, though.
An officer checked for a pulse on Blondie, and barked for a paramedic.
“Who called?” another demanded.
“I did,” I said, waving the phone in my hand. “This is my apartment, and that man in my room,” I pointed, “George Frank—he broke in. He had a gun and a Taser. He said he was going to kill me, and kill Miles, and make it look like a murder-suicide. He’s been stalking us all year, and—”
“Who shot this woman?” the officer asked.
“I did,” I said. “She tried to kill Miles. I grabbed George Frank’s gun when he—I threw my water bottle at him, and he dropped it. I saw her behind Miles, with a gun aimed at his back. I screamed, and shot her.”
“Good grief, look at this guy,” one of the officers said quietly to another.
No doubt wondering how in the world he got stuck in the wall like that.
I was starting to shake from all the adrenaline coursing through my system.
“It was self-defense,” Miles said, putting his arm around me. The officer didn’t comment, so we both lowered our hands. “That woman, Bea Cochran, shot at my fiancé. She hit George Frank, instead. George Frank also shot at my fiancé, twice. If you look, you’ll see where both of those bullets struck, as well.”
The officer glanced through the doorway of my bedroom, checking for bullet holes, I suppose.
“My name is Miles Bannerman, and this is Anika Riley. If you contact the DA in the Alfred Sullivan attempted murder trial which took place two weeks ago, you’ll see that they’re looking for both of these people. They’re also wanted by the Sheriff Office in Cedar Oaks. Like Anika said, they’ve been stalking us for the past year, and the Sheriff will confirm that.”
“Listen to the 911 call I made, on it you’ll find that George Frank confessed to several murders,” I added, remembering that I still had 911 on the line, just muted. I ended the connection.
“All right, you two wait here,” said the officer.
Miles kept his arm around me as paramedics lifted Blondie onto a stretcher, and wheeled her out.
House of Shadows Page 27