******
Phyl hoisted her shoulder bag to a more comfortable position, and reached for Thad's hand, as they walked together on the sidewalk. The night breeze made the walk a little more enjoyable than their long trek earlier in the day, and she noticed that there were almost as many tourists out on the streets now, and the sounds of raucous laughter from several bars reached her ears. She tried to stay calm, letting the bag she held with Jonathan's clothing swing very slowly back and forth as they walked, but she quickly ceased this action and let it just hang from her hand. She had to admit to herself that this trip made her very nervous. She looked up at Thad as he repositioned the large brown paper bag he held in his other hand. Why on earth had she asked Jonathan what else he needed? If she hadn't, they might already be on a plane to Nassau this very moment. Her eyes skittered around the houses, small hotels, and other establishments along the street, and she tried not to think of what or who could be lurking behind any one of them. Don't be ridiculous, she berated herself as she shook her head. Look at all the people walking around this time of night, under the soft golden glow of the streetlights. There was nothing to worry about. They would be fine. She looked up at Thad, and smiled as he returned her gaze. She knew he also wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible. They crossed the street and walked toward The Golden Conch Bar, its white sign visible in the distance. She took a deep breath and made an effort to look at the beautiful colonial architecture around them, with the crisp white trim and the stately pillars, and iron balconies and window grating. You could almost see inside some of the lighted rooms, and she wondered what it would be like to live here. While she and Thad had to deal with massive snowstorms in Vermont, the inhabitants here had to deal with hurricanes. Trying to visualize the island during a hurricane, with the violent wind and rains, the palm trees bending to the ground, not to mention probable flooding, she decided that she preferred the snowstorms. No, this was a nice place to visit, or, would be under different circumstances of course, but she couldn't see herself living here. Nor Jonathan. That was still a puzzle to her. She realized with a start that they had reached the bar, and was surprised at the amount of noise and laughter emanating from the dark, open restaurant. She glanced into the bar for a moment, and they turned left and walked along the side of the weathered turquoise building toward the coral door. They paused as they reached the door, and Thad knocked lightly.
"It's us." Phyl called softly. The door opened just enough for them to enter, and she saw that it was still pretty dark inside, with a small amount of light emanating from the bare bulb in the bathroom, and the fan providing a little relief from the stuffiness of the room. Jonathan locked the door and returned to sitting on the bed, his head back against the wall, his hand slung over his raised knee. Something about his arrogant, careless-looking position bothered her, but she brushed the thought aside, and walked over, setting the bag on the bed beside him. Jonathan opened the bag and peered inside, and that made her pause and reconsider. Her heart ached for the meticulous, successful man she had known, and she realized how difficult this must be for him.
"We brought you some breakfast from the hotel." Phyl added, as Thad placed the folded brown bag on the bed.
"Thank you both." Jonathan looked at each of them in turn. "Now leave."
"Do you need any extra money for the trip tomorrow?" Thad started to reach into his back pocket to pull out his wallet.
"No...no. I have enough, I'll be fine." He got up off the bed, ran his hand over his head, seeming agitated, and headed toward the bathroom. Leaving the door open, he washed his hands quickly, then leaned against the door frame facing them as he dried his hands on a towel. There was a long, awkward silence before Phyl addressed him.
"Jonathan, before we leave, I want you to know that your parents are heading back to the states tomorrow as well. So are we." Phyl clasped her hands together as she spoke. "We hope you get a flight out quickly and safely."
Jonathan turned and laid the towel on the sink, then walked into the room, putting his hands on his hips.
"Well, then, I should probably tell you something else." He took a deep breath and exhaled. Phyl squinted at his face, back-lit by the bathroom light, trying to read his expression, but she could see that his eyes looked strained. What on earth could he have to tell them now? What little they knew now was too much information, in her opinion.
Phyl saw that Thad had crossed his arms over his chest, his lips pursed, waiting to hear him out, but she could tell that he was annoyed now and anxious to leave. She stared at Jonathan, trying to keep herself calm and patient, as he lowered his head for a moment. Then, in the next instant, she heard herself scream and she raised her arms instinctively at the loud, splintering sound of the coral door flinging open toward her. Thad grabbed her arm and pulled her behind him as a short, dark-haired man entered the room, wearing black Bermuda shorts and a white tee shirt, brandishing a pistol in his left hand. This couldn't be happening. Time seemed to stand still as they remained frozen in place. Her eyes skittered around the room, seeing Jonathan in his same spot near the bathroom door, his arms out from his side a little, as if contemplating a sudden move, but there was nowhere to go. The fan whirred softly above her, making clicking noises, as they waited helplessly. The door was partially open, and Thad's hand was still on her arm, pressing into her skin ever so slightly, and she could see that his breathing had quickened. She could see his arm muscle flex beneath his sleeve and she knew that he was trying to figure out their best option. They had to think of something. What should she do? They were near the end of the bed with the gunman near the door, to their right, between them and Jonathan. She felt Thad's index finger tap on her arm as if pointing to the door. All right. He wanted her to run for help. She could do that, create a diversion for him and Jonathan. She saw the man look over at them quickly, then turn slightly toward Jonathan, and walk a little further into the dark room. Not a word was spoken. She saw Jonathan slant his eyes over toward her, then back over to focus on the gunman. Thad nodded slightly, and as the gunman started toward Jonathan, she felt Thad grip her arm hard and he pulled her out from behind him and pushed her toward the open door. "Go now," he hissed under his breath, keeping his head low. The gunman turned toward them and she almost fell over the stoop as she flew out the door, managing somehow to get her balance, turn to her left, and make her feet move in the direction of the crowded bar. She tried to run and look back at the same time. She started yelling for help as she ran as fast as she could over the uneven road.
The crack of a gun shot tore through the night air.
"No..o...o.....o!" she screamed. "Thad!" She stopped running and pitched forward and her hands hit the pavement, and her shoulder bag fell to the ground. Pushing herself back up, she swung around, hoisting her bag up onto her shoulder, and ran back toward the coral door, stumbling over the curb, trying to reach the coral door...to reach Thad. Another gun shot. She tried to pick up speed with legs that felt like lead, and she became aware of other people running or peering from doorways toward the sound.
"Call the police!" she screamed. She reached the door and pushed what was left of it open, trying to catch her breath, and saw that Thad was standing over the gunman who was lying unconscious on the floor near the bed, and she peered down at the man, surprised that there was no blood. Thad carefully pushed the gun over against the wall with his shoe, away from the man, then swung around to her, nodding as he saw her tears of relief. What she really wanted to do right that minute was to throw her arms around her husband. She was so thankful that he was all right, but she couldn't do that now. She had to stay calm and in control of her emotions. She flipped on the light switch and looked over for Jonathan and saw his still form, huddled in the corner, his head drooping on his chest, blood pooling next to his outstretched hand.
"Oh, my God, Jonathan." Phyl hurried over and as she knelt over him, she began tearing his sleeve where the bullet had entered. She heard voices, and a siren wail. She l
ooked over and saw Thad grab a pillow from the bed, pull the pillowcase off, and very quickly tie the man's hands behind him, then he joined her and she moved to the other side and let him take over, tearing the upper part of the sleeve of Jonathan's blue shirt to get to the wound, as she nervously kept an eye on the shooter's still form.
"I need that other pillowcase, Phyl."
She jumped up and hurried back to the far side of the bed, and pulled the case off the second pillow, feeling her heart quicken as she stumbled back over the uneven floor tiles to hand it to him. Thad quickly tied a tourniquet on Jonathan's bloody upper arm, and she saw him lift his head slightly and eye them both with lowered lids, his face covered with beads of sweat. She knelt down beside him again and gently placed her hand on his other shoulder.
"Get out of the Bahamas...now." His voice was low and she could tell he was in a lot of pain.
"We'll be all right, Jonathan." Phyl reassured him. "We need to get you to a hospital."
"You don't understand," he whispered, grimacing. "They'll kill you here. Don't trust anyone." He took a shallow breath, and his lids fluttered. "Get on a plane now...now." His head drooped on his chest.
"Oh my God, Thad. Is he...?"
"No, he just passed out." Thad looked over at her somberly. "It's not a fatal wound, thank goodness." Then he turned to glance at the other unconscious man still splayed out next to the bed. He continued to apply pressure to Jonathan's arm, turning to peer at the crowd of people gathering at the door. Phyl swung her head toward the door, seeing the blue lights of several police cars cutting a bright arc through the night as they pulled up in front of the building. With Thad keeping his eye on Jonathan's arm, she watched as at least five policemen, dressed in their crisp, black and white uniforms, ran into the room, and moved toward them, their guns drawn, as the higher pitched wail of an ambulance could be heard in the distance. She watched as even more people formed outside the door trying to catch a glimpse of whatever had transpired, and a couple of the officers rushed out to try to restore calm, shouting and raising their arms to push back the crowd as the paramedics ran in with their equipment.
Phyl and Thad stood up, and she saw that his hands, and clothes were spattered with blood. They nodded to one of the policemen as the other two officers bent down and checked the gunman, one of them moving over and carefully picking up the weapon, depositing it in a bag he had pulled from his pocket. The tall officer who seemed to be in charge stood with Phyl and Thad, and looked down at Jonathan, observing the paramedics now assessing his wound. There seemed to be total confusion around them as people were moved aside to let other paramedics pushing the gurney into the small room. One of the medics handed Thad a wet towel, and he nodded his gratitude, his lips pursed, as he began to wipe the blood off his hands and clothes.
"I'm Sergeant Dawes. Do you know dis man?" The tall officer spoke with authority in a soft British accent tinged with African dialect, as he nodded down toward Jonathan.
"Yes, his name is Jonathan Martin." Phyl looked up into the officer's eyes. "He had rented this room yesterday." She tried to calm her breathing.
"We're friends of his." Thad added. "I'm Thaddeus Gallagher and this is my wife, Phyllis Gallagher." The officer pulled out a notepad from his pants pocket, and quickly wrote down their information. "We're from Vermont. We were visiting Jonathan this evening, when the gunman burst into the room. Phyl...Phyllis was able to escape and call for help."
"Do you 'ave your passports wit you?"
"Oh, yes....hold on." Phyl juggled her shoulder bag, and rummaged through it, realizing that her hands were shaking, and she suddenly noticed that she, too had splatters of Jonathan's blood on her hands. She rubbed her lips together. Thank goodness she had not taken the passports out at the hotel or dropped the bag when she fell. "Here they are." She handed him the two small black booklets, and he flipped through them for a moment, then back at the two of them.
"Who shot dis Jonat'an Martin?"
"That man shot Jonathan," Thad answered calmly, nodding toward the gunman. "And tried to shoot me as well." Phyl shivered at the thought, despite the growing heat in the crowded room, and she took a deep breath and exhaled. "After Phyl ran for help, I lunged at the gunman and grabbed his gun arm just as he shot Jonathan. We wrestled for the gun and it went off again, then, I was able to hit him a couple of times, knocking him out."
"Dat man's de shooter. Handcuff him," the officer swung around and commanded his men. He turned back to Thad. "Did you touch de gun?"
"No, he dropped it and I pushed it out of his reach with my shoe."
"Do you know de shooter's name?"
"We don't know his name, but we believe that he's somehow connected to the kidnapping of Kristin Sullivan several days ago on New Providence Island." Phyl added, feeling her heartbeat return to normal, and she slanted her eyes over to watch the medics lift Jonathan's limp form onto the gurney, quickly adjusting the oxygen mask over his face. They strapped him in, and began to wheel him out the door, as the officers kept the onlookers back a distance. Phyl tilted her head as she gazed at Jonathan's face against the white sheet. He looked so very pale. They had to stay with him. Turning back to the sergeant, she inquired urgently. "May we go to the hospital with him? And notify his parents, Scott and Leah Martin? They're on New Providence Island and I'm sure they'll want to fly over as soon as possible." The three of them turned their heads quickly to look over as the gunman had started to come-to, and was mumbling incoherently, as the two policemen lifted him up by his arms.
"Take 'im to headquarters...to a cell." The sergeant turned back and narrowed his eyes at them. "I am keepin' your passports, Mr. and Mrs. Gallagher. I believe dere 'as been a bulletin recently about Jonat'an Martin, as a person of interest in de kidnapping you mentioned." He looked down at her solemnly, then turned to watch his men walk the unsteady gunman, his head down, out through the crowd to their police car. He turned back to them. "How did you know Mr. Martin was 'ere?"
"He had left us a message at our home that he had traveled to Lucaya, and we flew over this morning from New Providence to find him. We're staying at the Sunset Inn." Phyl could see that Thad was trying to keep as calm as possible as he answered the officer, watching as he wrote in his notebook, but by the tense look on his face, see that he wanted things to move a little more quickly, as did she. "We've all been very worried about his safety." Phyl saw another officer collecting Jonathan's belongings and putting them in a large plastic bag.
"Dis is what I'm goin' to do." The sergeant gave them his full attention. "An officer will drive you to de Freeport Medical Center so you can be wit your friend, Jonat'an Martin, and contact his parents from dere. However, I will need you both to make sworn statements about de goin's-on of dis evenin', and dat will be done individually at de hospital." He glanced around to make sure everything was being taken care of in the room, then looked at them seriously. "You may not leave de hospital until I 'ave your statements, and den I will provide an escort for you back to your hotel, do you understand?"
"Once Jonathan's parents are here to stay with him, and we're satisfied that he's all right, are we free to leave the Bahamas, and fly back to Vermont?" Thad looked at him somberly, his hands on his hips, one hand still holding the bloody towel.
"Let me speak to my superiors on dat matter, Mr. Gallagher, and I'll contact you at de hospital." Phyl noticed that she and Thad let out an exasperated sigh simultaneously as they looked at each other, and the sergeant responded sympathetically. "I understand your frustration. Dis is a complicated situation, from what I've been told." He looked at each of them in turn. "I'll do what I can to get you back to your home."
"Thank you." Phyl decided that even though Jonathan had told them that they couldn't trust anyone, she liked this sergeant and felt that he was an honest person. She nodded at him gratefully, her brown eyes glistening, as her thoughts turned to getting to the hospital and calling Scott and Leah.
"It will be all right." Sgt. Dawes
eyed them both in turn. "You 'ave my word."
"We appreciate your helping us." She nodded, then turned to Thad.
"Thank you, Sergeant Dawes." Thad nodded, one hand partially outstretched, and Phyl could see that he was hesitant to shake hands since his own were still smeared with dried blood...Jonathan's blood. The sergeant nodded and raised his hand in understanding. What a nightmare this had turned out to be. She shivered in the heat. She wouldn't let herself think about what could have happened if the room had been well-lit, or the gunman's aim had been more accurate, or if Thad hadn't been able to subdue him.
"Here is your escort." The sergeant turned his head as a young officer entered the room. "This is Officer Smith. He will get you to de hospital, and I will be in touch wit you soon." He nodded to them, and they were whisked out of the room and through the curious crowd to a police car, its blue lights pulsating. They climbed into the vehicle and they both leaned their heads back on the seat for a brief moment. Phyl reached over and put her hand in Thad's and he pressed her hand warmly, resting their hands on his knee. The officer turned on the siren, then pulled out and headed down the street for the apparently short drive to the Freeport Medical Center.
A Pale Paradise Page 17