by Freda, Paula
He tried to hold her closer as he felt her stiffen at the news, her nerves tensing with alarm. "I'm going to release you slowly, and crawl around the coffee table so I can surprise him from the rear. Be ready to grab the rifle to protect yourself." Jim wished he had placed it nearer than at the side of the fireplace. To go for it now would divulge his position.
Slowly he removed his hand from her lips. JoAnn did not move, but he felt her trembling. "Be strong, sweetheart," he whispered. Their gazes met, and JoAnn eyed him curiously. Then her eyes widened as he whispered in a voice barely audible even at their close proximity. "I love you. Always have, just didn't realize it." Ever so gently, he placed a feathery kiss on her lips, then letting her go, crawled silently on all fours to the other side of the coffee table.
The front door opened and the moonlight above silhouetted the figure of a robust man in a zippered winter jacket. Jim noted with some relief that the man held no weapon in his hand, although that did not guarantee the intruder did not have a weapon on his person. Jim waited for the figure to inch slowly into the room, until there was enough space for him to assault the intruder from the back. He might not be as robust, but he was tall and muscular enough to grab the man by his neck and shoulders from behind and pin him for a moment while he shouted, "JoAnn, get the rifle! Don't shoot, just aim."
JoAnn hurled to her feet and grabbed the rifle and pointed it. It was heavy, but she managed to hold it in place, without placing her finger on the trigger, and risking it going off by accident. The truth was she had never fired a rifle. Wouldn't even know how to. Hopefully the intruder didn't know or guess, and the threat suffice.
A gruff voice hollered, "Yo! Hold it! It's me, Harkins."
Jim didn't let go immediately. He peered sideways at the man's neck and face. It was Harkins, the detective assigned to the case. He let go slowly, warily, the thought playing at the back of his mind that Harkins was not beyond suspicion. "JoAnn," he warned, "don't put the rifle down yet."
From behind another voice enjoined, "It's okay." Jim tensed, glanced quickly behind him. It was the law firm's private eye, Briars.
JoAnn's arms ached under the weight of the rifle, but she had no intention of lowering it until Jim told her to.
Jim moved to the side to allow the P.I. to enter. "Where have you been?" he asked.
"Hiding," Briars answered. "My apartment was also scoured. Luckily I hid my copy of the Alliston file in a place I choose to remain anonymous. I have it here." He tapped the black slim zippered leather folder hidden against his side under his arm."
"What about Alliston, himself?" Jim asked. "Is he still missing?"
Harkins answered, asserting his police status. "Alliston is actually in jail, registered under another name, and protected by the Captain of our precinct. From day one, your P.I. secretly enlisted his help after showing him the evidence you and he had uncovered.
Briars said, "But I need to compare the file I'm carrying with yours in order to confirm the authenticity of my findings. A successful comparison will give the Precinct Captain the right to arrest the true culprit.
Jim asked one last question to assure himself the two men were telling him the truth. "Who do you intend arresting if our information coincides?"
Briars and Harkins answered in unison. "Stanton, himself."
"The president of the embezzled firm?" JoAnn gasped, non-plussed. "But he was the one who alerted the authorities to the accrued deficit."
"Exactly," Jim affirmed. "And he produced false information to blame Alliston, the treasurer."
"No doubt, to take suspicion off himself," JoAnn said.
"And it took all four of you to discover the truth!" Another voice scoffed.
All four turned in the direction of the door.
Moonlight outlined the figure of a man in a black tailored overcoat. He held a small revolver cocked and aimed. "You've led me a merry chase," he said. "It took me some time, but I eventually realized that although you took different routes and modes of travel, they all led north, to Montreal, and to this cabin." He smirked, adding with sinister grin, "Oh, and if you're thinking, there's four of you and one of me, even with that rifle pointed at me by a woman who obviously has no idea how to use it, judging by the way she's holding it, I am not alone." He lifted his free hand. In its palm, he held a small dark rectangular gadget, the size of a cell phone, with an electrified bright red button. His thumb closed over the light."
"Where are the explosives?" Harkins asked
"Buried outside the backdoor."
"Do you intend blowing yourself up with us as well?" Jim asked.
"Only if you value your lives less than mine," Stanton said. He accepted the ensuing silence as capitulation." Stanton advised Jim, "You might tell your secretary to lower the rifle before she accidentally sets it off and knocks herself out in the process."
"Do as he says," Jim told her. "We're outmatched at the moment."
Gingerly, making sure to move her finger away from the trigger loop, JoAnn lowered the heavy rifle, and leaned it, muzzle pointing down, against the couch behind her.
"Very wise," Stanton complimented.
JoAnn glared at him.
"Oh, come now," Stanton chuckled, "I'm not as bad as you think. I could have waited until you were all inside, and set off the incendiary."
"So why didn't you," Briars asked.
Stanton glanced at the Private Eye. "Well, for one thing, I need the information in the Alliston File that you planned to use to incriminate me. And who else knows what's in that file."
"How did you suspect we were on to you?" Jim asked.
Stanton's reply held a plaintive, almost regretful note. "Courtesy of my secretary. Alice had friends at your firm. She heard rumors, did some investigating of her own and deduced the rest. Resourceful, and Loyal to the last, except that she kept insisting I turn myself in."
"So as her reward for her cunning and loyalty, you shot her!" JoAnn accused.
Stanton retorted, "It came down to my safety, or her morals."
JoAnn's eyes widened with horror.
Stanton told her, "Oh, don't look at me with that shocked expression. I'm a sociopath. I'm sure by now you've guessed."
Harkins spoke. "Whether we give you the files and the information you want, I don't believe for an instant you intend letting us live. There is the all-too likely chance that proof or no proof we'll set rumors flying, and someone else will take up the investigation to incriminate you."
JoAnn shivered. Harkins was right. Stanton intended to kill them all. And with his thumb resting on the incendiary's remote trigger, they dare not try to overpower him. If she could somehow distract him— If that same thought occurred to any of her companions, no doubt they were hesitating, contemplating each other's safety, and hers. Another thought occurred to her. By his own admittance, Stanton was a sociopath. He wouldn't give a hoot about her health. And her idea might not work at all, and be the catalyst for all their deaths. But on the slim chance that one of the men at her side understood her reasons, JoAnn began to breathe heavily. She grabbed her chest and opened her eyes wide, staring crazily at their captor, and gulping air.
Everyone stared at her, alarmed. Jim turned to clasp her in his arms. "Oh my God, she's panicking. JoAnn, easy, try to control your breathing. You're hyperventilating."
It was the split-second she needed as Harkins and Briars moved closer to her. With Jim holding her, partly blocking Stanton's view, she glanced at Harkins and winked.
Stanton yelled, "Stop it!"
"She needs help!," Briars retorted.
"Get away from her," Stanton cried, aiming the revolver in his free hand. His attention centered on the lawyer and his secretary, he missed seeing Harkins' hand slip into his jacket pocket. A detective trained well in the use of his weapon, Harkins shot through his pocket at the wrist of Stanton's hand holding the remote. He reasoned that the bullet entering Stanton's wrist would paralyze his fingers and prevent his thumb from depressing the trigger bu
tton.
The sound of the gun firing startled Jim and Briars into turning to face Stanton, thinking for an instant that he had shot at them. For when the remote fell from his wounded extremity, the finger of his hand holding the small revolver, reflexively pulled back on the trigger's lever and sent a bullet flying at his captives.
Adrenaline soaring as the threat of Stanton setting off the explosive ceased to exist, all three men rushed toward him and overpowered him.
Jim carefully picked up the remote device and placed it on the fireplace mantle at a safe distance. Stanton lay on the ground face up, nursing his bleeding wrist and moaning in pain. A practiced marksman, Harkins had aimed high enough to avoid hitting a vein or artery.
Briars called the police from his cell phone as Harkins handcuffed a protesting Stanton. Harkins said, "I need to stop the bleeding," He turned toward JoAnn. "Could use a towel, some bandages—"
Features scrunched in pain, JoAnn huddled against the base of the couch, bloodstained arms wrapped about her waist.
"Oh my God, Miss Hennessey!"
The alarm in the detective's voice, made the others glance in her direction. Jim sprang to her side and knelt beside her, cradling her in his arms. "JoAnn, sweetheart!"
Despite the pain burning through her, the sound of Jim's endearment elicited a weak smile. "I think I've been shot," she murmured wearily, before his anxious features faded into darkness.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Awareness returned and JoAnn slowly opened her eyes. Encountering the surrounding brightness, she thought, I've passed into the light. The sound of her own voice moaning and the soreness in her shoulder told her differently. Her vision clearing, alerted her to her new surroundings. She lay on a hospital bed, the top slightly raised. Her arm and shoulder were heavily bandaged and in a supportive sling. The brightness filling the room were sunrays cascading through the window a yard or so from the right side of her bed.
She managed to turn her head and scanned the room. Definitely a hospital room, with standard hospital appurtenances including a couple of metal chairs and a white nightstand holding a tray with a glass and water pitcher. She reasoned that a nurse call button must be somewhere near her. She found it near her uninjured side and pressed the call button.
Within minutes, a nurse entered the room. "You're awake. Welcome back," she smiled. "How are you feeling?"
"Sore, but apparently alive," JoAnn affirmed in a crackly voice.
The nurse checked the clipboard hanging off the bed's footboard. Her expression remained neutral. "Let's see how you are doing."
JoAnn grimaced at the dry chalky taste of the thermometer the nurse placed in her mouth before taking her wrist and checking her pulse rate. She followed the nurse's instructions to stay quiet. When the thermometer beeped, the nurse read it. She nodded satisfied. "Fever is gone," she said in a comforting tone. I'll page the doctor to tell him you're awake."
"Nurse," JoAnn called. Hesitantly she asked, "Is there anyone waiting for news about me?"
"Oh, you mean that frantic gentleman who brought you in last night? Your fiancé? That's who he said he was."
JoAnn thought a moment. Of course, he would say that, for hospital security reasons. They might not have allowed him to handle her admission, otherwise. "Yes, James Nelson."
"He never left. You were in intensive care for a while. We transferred you to this room when your condition stabilized. Your young man refused to leave your side."
My young man, JoAnn thought, soulfully. If only that were true. She pushed the thought aside. "Has anyone alerted my parents?"
"Yes," the nurse responded. "He gave us their address and phone number. We called them immediately. The desk nurse said they'd be catching the next flight up. New Hampshire is not far, and they may be here already. I'll stop by the waiting room on my way to notify your doctor, and let them know you're awake."
JoAnn nodded her thanks. It was comforting to know there remained nurses with genial bedside manners.
Within the hour, the Doctor entered JoAnn's room. He introduced himself as Doctor Shah and checked her vitals and her shoulder. "You've survived the worst. You were fortunate not to suffer damage that will not heal within a few weeks, as the bullet passed through your shoulder and out. I'll prescribe pain pills for the aches and soreness." He placed a solacing hand lightly on her arm. "You should be right as rain shortly. Although I can't guarantee you won't feel some soreness on rainy days."
JoAnn smiled her thanks.
"Okay, then," he said. "I'll send in your parents and your young man."
"There here?" JoAnn asked, referring to her parents.
"Yes, they arrived shortly. And I'm glad of it. The desk nurse was near her wit's end with your fiancé repeatedly checking on your condition and finally insisting on being allowed to stay with you. You're probably not aware of this, but he spent most of the night in here with you, in that chair in the corner. He left to greet your parents when they arrived, shortly before you woke up." He laughed softly. "I'd say your intended cares deeply for you. Wouldn't you agree?"
"Yes ... I'd agree," JoAnn whispered, not as confidently as the Doctor expected. His brow furrowed.
JoAnn added quickly, "Please send them all in. I'm anxious to see them."
"Will do," Doctor Shah replied.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
JoAnn greeted her parents, Mary and James Hennessey, with a reassuring smile, embracing each in turn with her uninjured arm. "I'm okay, mom, I'm okay," she repeated warmly to her mother. Tears flowed down the cheeks of the middle-aged woman. "Dad and I were out of our minds with fear that you might not wake up."
"Come on, you knew I'd be all right. You had already sketched a picture of me and—" She pulled her mother closer and whispered in her ear, "me and Jim," didn't you."
"I know, sweetheart. But that might just be wishful thinking."
"In my case, you might be right. But I'm doing well, honest." Her gaze slipped over her mother's shoulder to her father, who stood tall and rugged and handsome despite his years. Except for the gray at his temples and a few extra pounds that he monitored carefully, his resemblance to the sketch her mother drew that day she met him on her trip to the Amazon basin, distinctly remained. Hennessey was the guide on the bus tour. It was love at first site, although he didn't realize it until marauders attacked the bus and he was wounded. He often said that his attraction to her became vividly clear when he woke cradled in her arms as they hid on the floor of the bus along with those passengers who had dodged the bullets. Mary had drawn their romance, sketch by sketch, in that very special book they kept in a glass case in the living room. JoAnn's father who managed his wife's art career, would wink and smile whenever he told JoAnn and her siblings, that when it came to sketches of herself and her family, she exhibited psychic abilities. Most laughed off his comment, except for Dr. Connors and his wife, Florence. Connors had been the guard on the bus when Mary and James had met. He never argued with the scoffers. But that glint in his eyes and the knowing smile on his mouth said it all.
Mary released JoAnn and straightened. "Your father and I promised to contact our old friends. They are anxious to know how you are doing. Dr. Connors offered to fly over from the mission for added consultation if necessary.
"Tell him I'm doing fine. And say hello to his family. Tell him I'm looking forward to seeing them all on their next visit to the U.S."
"I'll do that, sweetheart." Mary turned toward the man standing apart, face drawn with worry. "You didn't tell us about your engagement. Why not?"
Thankfully, JoAnn's father saved her the need to reply when he took his wife's arm. "Come on, Mary, let's give these young people some time to themselves."
With a warm nod, Mary went with her husband back to the waiting room.
Jim Nelson stood quietly observing the woman lying wounded and bandaged in the hospital bed. JoAnn read in his eyes the momentary hesitation to approach her. Now that she was on her way to healing, was he regretting his avowal
of love, or telling everyone she was his fiancée? Was he trying to formulate a way of letting her off easy? He didn't want to lose her as his secretary, she knew that for certain. But did he really want to spend the rest of his life with her as her husband. The truth she admitted to herself was that she wanted to be his wife, even if he was no longer sure of his feelings. Would it be fair to him, and how it would hurt her to wake up one morning and discover he had married her on the rebound because the woman he had loved with all his heart had married someone else?
JoAnn pursed her lips. Her whole being begged her not to do or say anything that might give him the opportunity to back out of his pronounced engagement to her. Wait, her heart seemed to whisper. Wait, on the slim chance that he might truly love you, or learn to love you and be happy with you."
There was no denying her heart's desire, not after all they had experienced together. JoAnn stretched out her uninjured arm and with tears brimming over, she said, "I love you and I need you."
He stood a moment longer, and then with quickening steps, he ran to her side, fell on his knees and clasped her in his arms. It would have to be enough for now, JoAnn thought, quietly abandoning herself to his embrace.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
It was enough for now, JoAnn thought optimistically, two months later, as arm entwined in her father's, the tips of her white satin shoes showing beneath the hem of her sweetheart nuptial gown, she marched down the Church aisle toward the altar where Jim and the Pastor waited. Their affectionate smiles and the joyous expression in their eyes genuinely matched those of her parents, relatives and friends filling the pews in the Church proper, comforting and assuring her, at least for the time being.
The past two months had seen her health return, Alliston cleared of all charges, and Stanton indicted for his attempt to blow up the cabin with the intention of killing all those within. The necessary proof contained in the Alliston File aided the Detective and the Private Investigator to clinch the case. Stanton was further charged with embezzlement and his secretary's murder, as more evidence of his guilt surfaced.