“I hope I don’t have to use it.” She set it gingerly on the ground beside her, the safety still on.
“Me, too.” He retrieved his range finder from his backpack for another look at their surroundings. If Durrant was in the forest today, he was acting like a real hunter, and that was cause for concern. Alex couldn’t detect anything or anyone until both dogs gave a small whine of alert, their ears pitched forward as they faced back toward the cabin. Where the hell are you, you bastard?
He scanned in the direction the dogs faced. Finally, he caught a glint of gunmetal. There he was. Durrant lay flat to the ground beneath a low growth of dense pine branches, nearly one hundred percent concealed in the shadowy boughs. The man still carried his thirty-thirty only now it balanced on a tripod and sported a high-powered scope. And it was aimed directly at Alex.
He studied the assassin, two predators finally eye to eye. Durrant’s concealment was actually an excellent sniper hide. Alex gauged the distance. Six hundred yards give or take a foot or two. The scope brought Durrant close. Too close. Silently, Alex traded his rangefinder for his rifle, and secured it into his shoulder. Two can play this game. How about I put a round right down that fancy scope of yours and straight into your head, you sonofabitch?
The shot was easy. Durrant didn’t stand a chance. Kelsey wouldn’t know until the man who hunted her was dead. Alex pressed his finger to the trigger, applied just the right amount of pressure, and—
“Ouch!” She jumped up from the log. “Something bit me.” She twisted around to look at her backside.
“Get down!” Alex jumped up to cover her. He almost had hold of her when he heard the far off crack of a center-fire round expelled from its chamber. With blinding heat, the bullet rifled through his left shoulder, exiting just beneath his collarbone and pushing him forward. He gasped. A startling spray of blood splashed across her shocked face as he collapsed onto her. He fell to his hands and knees, his forehead pressed into the dirt. It happened so fast. The dogs erupted in lethal fury as they charged back into the trees. He tried to call them back, but Whisper and Smoke were past the point of hearing.
“Kelsey,” he groaned. “Rrrr-uuu-nnn!
Nine
Kelsey
She didn’t run.
Kelsey stared dumbfounded back into the trees, her eyes locked across the distance with a face from her past. Nick had scrambled out from under the branches, his rifle in his shoulder, and ready to fire again. She waited for the shot. It never came, or if it did, she never heard it. In between the rifle shot and Alex’s cry, every repressed memory poured back into her mind like a noisy flood in an eight-ounce cup.
He had taken her for a ride in his diesel, supposedly to retrieve the boys from his mothers. That’s when he told her. She felt the stinging pain of Nick’s fist on her cheekbone as if it had just happened all over again. It felt so real that she touched her cheek, half expecting bruised skin and blood beneath her fingertips. She saw his top lip curled with sadistic pleasure when he’d said he had drowned her babies, how he had to tape their mouths so he didn’t have to hear them cry. They weren’t at his mother’s. By the time Nick started telling her his lies, her boys were already gone.
He killed my boys.
She saw the sweat at his throat and the leer on his face. His eyes had glittered like a deranged animal, and she had fought back. She had dug her nails into his cheek, all her fury unleashed, but it wasn’t enough. He slammed her face into the dashboard, so she made the only choice she could. She pulled the handle on the truck door and flung herself out—away from him forever.
He killed my boys.
The shock of asphalt against her knees grated again. Her shoulders, arms, and elbows burned where they had been shredded. She remembered her three-point landing and the bittersweet thought that her dead son’s hero, Spiderman, would have been proud. But Nick had turned that smelly diesel truck around, grinding the gears as he faced her again. He would have run her down if she had stayed. So she ran into the forest and unknowingly to Alex.
He killed my boys.
She clutched Alex’s pistol as her history assaulted her all over again. As quickly as she remembered, she knew exactly what she was going to do. Yes, she might share this monster’s name, but she was also the woman he had beaten. Most importantly, she was Tommy and Jackie’s mother. She would gladly have died for them, and now—she would kill for them.
He killed my boys!
She watched in a trance. The dogs roared over Nick like a throw rug tossed in the wind. His rifle flew over his head when Whisper hit him. Nick tried to deflect the big dog’s teeth with his arms, but he never stood a chance against the trained predator. He fell backwards in a flurry of black fury that was quickly joined by silver, Smoke’s saliva frothed jaws clamped alongside Whisper’s on their quarry’s neck. Within seconds, Nick was subdued, crying, and whining. The dogs stood hunched over him, their jaws locked, eyeing Kelsey for their next command.
She walked the distance to her ex-husband in a slow-motion dream. The pistol felt good in the palm of her hand, like it was nothing more than an extension of her fingers and her will. Alex was right. It’s not going to hurt you if you handle it right.
She stood over Nick. He seemed smaller than she remembered. She felt like she was a long ways off, as if she looked down at him from a very great height. Imagine that. Nick Durrant’s nothing but a mean, pitiful little man.
She dropped her knee onto her husband’s scrawny chest, the weapon concealed at her side. She fully intended to handle it right.
“Whisper. Smoke. Off.” She used the words Alex used. The next step was easy because Nick never could keep his mouth shut.
“You bitch!” He started to push her off, but as quick as that, she shoved the gun barrel between his crooked teeth and over his tongue. The smell of his breath struck her nose with its stink. Yeah, this was the man she had married, all sweat, beer, and cigarette stench.
“You killed my boys,” she screamed so hard she spit in his face.
He gagged, his eyes wide with terror. Whisper and Smoke stood focused and ready to help. She pushed the gun in deeper. A trail of blood drizzled out of the side of his mouth as he tried to mumble words she didn’t care to hear.
“You murdered them.” In a bizarre, detached kind of feeling, she heard the shriek of a monster blast from her throat. It sounded demonic and strong, not hers at all. Between it and the thundering in her head, she gave into rage. She wasn’t timid, mousey little Kelsey anymore. Not today. No. She was the powerful one. Finally, she was strong enough to scare Nick Durrant for a change.
He tried to talk, but could only choke and gag—until something clicked in her hand. His eyes blinked wild and crazy then. His hands almost grabbed the gun, but terror kept his palms wide with submission, waving like stupid little flags at the side of his face like he would back up if he could. The bizarre pleasure of the moment did not escape her. It felt good to watch him squirming for his life.
She lowered her nose to his. Once again, the monster screamed out of her, “You killed my boys.”
The noise in her head drowned out her conscience and, along with it, the waiting dogs at her side. All she knew was Nick was going to die right here and now. She was the one. Yes. She, Mrs. Nick Durrant, was going to blow his head apart like a melon and watch it splatter into a million chunks. Then she was going to shoot him again—and again—and again!
The sweet faces of her dead sons came into her mind. Sparkling brown eyes smiled back at her with all their love. My boys suffered. She pushed the gun until Nick threw up in his mouth. Tears rolled down his face and neck. He writhed beneath her, but she knew what was really going on. Right about now he would start begging forgiveness. He would whine and cry, promise to never hit her again. What did he think? She was fool enough to believe him? The roar of insanity filled her mind. No. Not today. Never, ever again
Another voice pierced the churning maelstrom. It was calm and deadly serious in the way of tru
e strength. She recognized the virtue in its tone, but just as quickly ignored it. No. I have work to do.
The voice persisted.
Kelsey glared over her shoulder, searching the trees for its source. She gasped to see Alex standing just yards away. Sweat and dirt covered his face. Blood saturated his shirt. For a split second, blue eyes penetrated the thunderstorm in her head. She saw his lips move, but it was too hard to listen. She turned back to finish the job.
“I hate you,” she screamed at Nick. She froze. Her plan was flawed. Why should he get to die so easily when her sons had suffered? Maybe there was a better way to do this. Maybe if she tilted this gun up just a little bit, the bullet wouldn’t go straight through right away. No. Maybe it would ping around inside his skull for a while.
Kelsey pushed down on the handle of the gun, which pushed the end of the barrel up into Nick’s palette. She wanted pain and a slow agonizing death—just like drowning. That’s what she wanted. Yeah. This will work.
“How’s it feel?” she growled. Her hair flung over the two of them like a shroud, a death shroud. She liked that thought. She also like that his eyes bugged out of his red face, but the annoying voice spoiled the moment.
“What. Do. You. Want?” she screamed without turning around. It was Alex. She knew what he wanted. The answer was no.
“Kelsey.” His calm penetrated to her core. He couldn’t have hit her harder if he had used his fist. She froze. Time stopped. Kelsey glanced over her shoulder to see him more clearly.
“Sweetheart.” His voice was softer this time, more air than strength, but it still commanded. “You’re ... not ... him.”
She heard. She just couldn’t stop. She had to do this one thing for Tommy, for Jackie. Don’t make me stop. Not now. Don’t you understand?
“Kelsey.” He sank to his knees, his eyes still riveted to hers as he swayed back and forth. With a soft groan, he fell face first into the dirt.
“Alex.”
Just like that, the fog of madness dissipated. Her brain stopped churning. In a second, she scrambled back to him and pulled him onto her lap.
He whispered to his dogs. “Hold.”
Whisper and Smoke latched onto the child-killer’s throat while Nick vomited and cried.
“You’re hurt. You’re shot.” She leaned into Alex’s face. In a rush of tears and anguish, she blurted out what he already knew. “He killed my boys, Alex. He killed my boys.”
“I know, honey. I know.” He wiped a bloody thumb across her chin, but his strength was gone. His hand dropped into hers.
She pulled his shirt open. Blood oozed from an ugly hole under his left collarbone. In a minute, she wiggled out of the pink T-shirt, ripped it in half, and pressed one piece against his shoulder and another at the hole in his back. He groaned while she cried.
“We need to get you out of here.”
The blood kept coming. Within seconds, the pink fabric was drenched in red, and she was scared. “I don’t know what else to do. There’s so much blood. What should I do?”
But instead of telling her what to do, Alex looked at her bra.
“In another place and time—” He tried to joke, but his voice was too weak, his face too gray. Blood trickled down his neck. “My phone. Press one ….”
Kelsey fumbled his cell phone out of the holster on his belt and speed dialed his office. It was a roundabout way to go, but it worked.
“Alex?” A man answered on the first ring.
“He’s hurt,” she cried out. “He’s been shot. He’s hurt.”
“Kelsey? Alex is shot?” the man asked. “Is he alive?”
“Yes, but he’s bleeding, and I can’t stop it, and I don’t know what to do.”
“Calm down,” he said firmly. She heard him turn to talk with someone else before he came back on the line. “Help is on its way. Are you hurt?”
“No, I’m just ….” She looked down at the man in her lap. “But he’s dying,” she whined. “He’s dying. I don’t know what to do. Please. Help me.”
“Listen. My name is Murphy. Talk to me. Where’s he shot, honey?”
“In his back. It came out the front of his shoulder. There’s a lot of blood,” she explained quickly.
“They’ll be there in five minutes. Five minutes, I promise. You just stay with him and keep talking to me, you hear me?” Murphy sounded scared, but she couldn’t hold the phone and Alex, too. He had passed out, and she was scared he would die right there under the trees. She gathered him into her arms and dropped the phone.
Memories poured over her. She cried. With death so close, the sweet faces of her boys came to her mind. She saw them crying for her while dark cold water swirled around them. Tommy never liked water in his face, and now ... and now ....
She choked. The thought of their final moments suffocated her. They had suffered. Alex groaned against her neck. They had cried for their mama. His blood trickled down her elbow. He was dying in her arms. Everything was mixed together as Kelsey prayed for Tommy, Jackie, and Alex. Somehow they were all connected. She hadn’t saved her boys, and now, she couldn’t save him. Like his blood in the dirt, everything good was spilling away from her.
Alex
Where the hell am I?
Alex pulled the nasal cannula off his face. The monitor next to his bed beeped with stats of oxygen saturation, blood pressure, heart rate, plus a dozen other things he didn’t care about. Shit. I’m in a hospital.
An IV line hung from the metal tree by the bed. Its line snaked around the rail and taped to the back of his hand. Several more tubes circled out of his chest. Those have to go.
But the worst indignity of all, he was catheterized and he knew it. That definitely has to go. No bag of pee hanging off my bed.
He ached, but not too bad, all things considered. He had felt a lot worse. Some vacation. Fragments of the last few days edged their way back into his head. Kelsey. That bastard husband of hers shot me. Damn. She knows.
His groggy mind relived the bullet’s impact and the look in Kelsey’s startled eyes. The frightening image of her rage came back to him. Thankfully she listened and remembered who she was, that she really didn’t want to kill her worthless husband. She had ripped her pink shirt off to staunch his bleeding. He thought it funny all recollection stopped there. He smiled. That was actually a pretty good place to stop being held in the arms of a half-naked angel. A man couldn’t ask for a better way to die.
The room was quiet except for the sounds of the hospital machines and his steady breathing. Sometimes it’s nice to just listen to your own breathing. This was a good day. He wanted to sit up. Heck, he wanted to check the hell out of this place, but it had taken too much effort just figuring out where he was.
Gradually, his head cleared. He noticed Kelsey sound asleep in the chair beside him, her head resting on her folded arms on the edge of his bed. He smoothed his hand over her cheek. She sighed as a small smile pinched her lips. Another memory surfaced through the meds. She prayed for me. That kind act humbled him. Nobody’d prayed for him in years unless it was for him to die. He remembered something else. She glowed?
She looked peaceful, her hair tied back in a ponytail. Somewhere along the line, she had borrowed a nurse’s gray shirt. Scrubs. That’s what they’re called. He traced his thumb along the line of her jaw, but she didn’t stir. He wished he could pull her into his arms. He knew he would sleep a lot better then. They both would. He closed his eyes.
And hoped she would stay.
Ten
Alex
People still surprised him.
Everyone turned out for the funeral of Tommy and Jackie Durrant. The tragic story had a powerful effect on the town where Kelsey lived. In an instant, they took the long-suffering mother into their hearts. They wanted her to know they cared. Too late maybe, but they cared.
Alex walked through the cemetery dressed in his grey suit, white shirt, and black tie and his black trench coat pulled over the sling on his arm. It was funeral attire
, somber dress for a somber day. Murphy had overnight expressed it.
The police had informed Alex that Durrant’s confession corroborated what they already knew. His only motive for murdering his children was that he was sick and tired of two bloodsuckers in his life and their ungrateful mother. He claimed Tommy and Jackie weren’t his. After that outrageous statement, the medical examiner ran DNA testing. The boys were Durrant’s all right. Kelsey wasn’t what he had claimed, but he was a murderer and not a very bright one at that. He had left a trail of evidence the police had no trouble following.
Alex saw Kelsey, a slender wisp of a woman in a simple black dress at the graveside with the minister. For the first time, he noticed her long legs. The road rash on them was concealed beneath black stockings ending in low black heels. She stood staring at the docile minister in front of her, her expression as vacant as his. No soft sweet laughter graced her face. She looked lost, the biblical leper everyone looked at and talked about, but nobody really knew. The only things missing were the stones.
Alex couldn’t get to her side fast enough. The minister asked everyone to take their places for prayer, so Alex halted where he stood, just a few yards behind her. The minister gave Kelsey his blessing. The righteous man told the grieving mother how Tommy and Jackie were in a better place. She should be thankful their earthly journey was completed because now she had two little angels in heaven watching over her. He challenged her to live in such a manner that she would be fit to join them someday.
Alex heard her whimper. His own heart screamed, “Bullshit. There’s no better place than with their mother.”
With a closing prayer in her behalf, the graveside ceremony concluded. A crowd of well-wishers, do-gooders, and a couple local news reporters engulfed her, their murmurs of understanding and compassion a quiet buzz of hot air. She stood just beyond his reach, her eyes locked on the small oak box that now held the two little brothers for eternity. An elderly couple turned to introduce themselves, but Alex adeptly passed them by, his eyes only for Kelsey.
Alex (In the Company of Snipers) Page 10