Blind-sided

by Monette Michaels

  “You think someone planned this?” Jeanette struggled to keep up with the longer-legged man.

  “Yeah.”

  Tony didn’t even hesitate when the crowd miraculously opened up a path to the left, which led toward the front of the fair grounds. He just moved into the breach in the crowd, tugging her with him.

  Jeanette was breathing heavy now. A stitch in her side and a cramp in her arch hindered her ability to stay with Tony’s grueling pace. She had to stop before she fell.

  “Tony,” she gasped. “Please… uh, I have to catch… my breath.” She pulled on the arm holding her.

  Tony swung her off her feet and to the side, under the shelter of a live oak. “Sorry. I think we’ll be okay here. It’s defensible.”

  Jeanette saw his point. In front of them were wide open vistas and behind the oak was a large wooden fence, marking one of the fair ground’s outer boundaries. She leaned against the tree and concentrated on breathing while Tony kept his eyes on the plaza in front of them.

  Spying the VooDoo Exhibit across the way, she placed their exact position. Tugging on Tony’s shirt, she said, “We’re near the east gate. Scott will be coming in this way. We’ll be able to see him arrive.”

  Stopping mid-nod, Tony stiffened and said over his shoulder, “Hundred feet to the right. Two men by the lemonade stand. Do they look familiar to you?”

  Jeanette turned and sought the spot. She gasped. “Walter Monnier! He’s the one on the left. Scott told you about him. He works for Rutherford. The other man I’ve never seen before.”

  “Shit. I knew this was a bad idea.” Tony got out his cell phone, punched a code and waited. “Shit. No time. They’re coming!”

  “The VooDoo Exhibit. I’ve been in there before. We can lose them in there.” Jeanette dashed around Tony and ran for the Exhibit’s entrance.

  “Jeanette! Wait. Dammit.”

  Tony’s voice sounded angry — and behind her. But Jeanette wasn’t going to wait in wide open spaces and make it easy for Rutherford’s henchmen. She was going to evade, hide and then escape.

  Tony caught up with her at the VooDoo entrance. He threw a bill at the ticket-taker, then grabbed her arm and pulled her into the large building. The interior was filled with booths and tented exhibits featuring tarot readers, charms and amulets, VooDoo dolls, fortune-telling, and any other alternative or fringe life-style or belief a person could think of. It had always been Jeanette’s favorite part of the Jazz Fest. She just hoped it wouldn’t be the last time she ever visited it.

  The woman collecting the ticket money yelled after them. “Hey Buddy — don’t you want your change?”

  Tony waved the woman off as he kept pulling Jeanette further away from the entrance.

  They were fifty feet inside when they heard the woman’s voice again, this time yelling, “Stop those men. They didn’t pay.”

  “Where should we go?” Tony whispered as he pulled her along in a running slouch.

  “The fortune teller’s booth.” Jeanette tugged to the left. “This way.”

  They moved swiftly, without looking back. As they approached the front of the gaudily decorated tent, Jeanette changed directions and pulled Tony into a shop offering VooDoo charms for sale.

  “Why…?”

  “Shhh. The Fortune Teller’s booth was the obvious goal on that path, but this place has a back way out.”

  Tony grinned and gave her a thumb’s up.

  Jeanette chanced a glance out the curtained front door of the little shop. Monnier and his ugly friend headed straight for the Fortune Teller’s Booth. There, they stopped and questioned the girl at the entrance. When she shook her head, the two angry-looking men glanced around them.

  She knew the instant they decided on the VooDoo charm shop.

  “Come on, time to move,” Jeanette whispered to Tony, shoving him toward the back of the shop. Along the way she picked up a couple of packages of some powders. Then she said, “Give the gal some money, darling, and come on. We don’t want my ex to catch up with us.”

  Tony smiled at her quick thinking and threw another twenty at the dark-skinned girl who asked no questions. Her Caribbean-accented voice called after them, “Have a nice day — those mens will no follow you.”

  Jeanette heard the snick of the lock and the sound of something large being shoved against the door after they left. She smiled.

  After they left the shop, they edged their way around the small building back toward the back of the next booth, a candle shop.

  “Let’s just skirt along the back of the booths until we get back to the front entrance,” Tony said as he placed his body between her and whatever might follow them. “Scott should be here by now. He’ll be looking for us outside, near the front of this exhibit.”

  Scott and safety. It felt right. She’d never bemoan her cushioned prison again — if they got out of this, that is.

  Behind them, an altercation erupted.

  The sales clerk in the charm shop screamed at the top of her lungs, “Stop thieves! Police!” Her cry was soon taken up by the other booth holders.

  Jeanette laughed. They just might make it.

  The main entrance to the VooDoo exhibit building was only thirty feet away when Walter Monnier stepped out from the side of a building and blocked their path.

  His lurid grin made Jeanette want to vomit. Behind her, an almost inhuman growl became a gasp of pain. Turning she saw Tony fall. Her escape had been cut off, and she couldn’t leave Tony.

  Monnier’s evil sidekick had hit Tony over the head with a large box. He now stalked her.

  Jeanette placed her back against a booth in an attempt to keep both men within her field of vision.

  “Flower. Give up, sweetness.” Closing in slowly, Monnier spoke in low tones, his words dripping with slime. “Don’t make a scene — or we may have to shoot the so-very-brave man lying on the ground.”

  “Y’all are gonna kill him — and me anyway. We’ve both seen you. And Rutherford wants this to look like another accident. So I’m not budging, and I’m not making it easy.”

  Jeanette hugged the booth wall with her back, wishing she could meld into it and escape out the other side. Since that was a physical impossibility, she settled for glaring at Monnier. Her heart raced at a hundred miles an hour and she was afraid she wouldn’t be able to catch her next breath, but she managed a small chuckle at the look of consternation which settled on her adversary’s face.

  “Ya think you’re smart, don’t ya?” Monnier sneered.

  “Uh huh.”

  Come on, Scott. Come in and find us. We need you.

  “Do something, Monnier!” The ugly sidekick turned and kicked Tony’s unconscious body. “That black bitch from the booth will have everyone in the place looking for us. We can’t stay here — and we can’t leave them alive to talk.”

  Jeanette was puzzled. Monnier had grimaced at the snarled order from his ersatz partner. Was there trouble brewing in hell?

  “Yeah, Walter.” She decided to stir the pot. “What ya gonna do? Can you really kill me? After all, I’ve done nothing to you. Are you gonna murder me in cold blood? That’s the death penalty in this state. And they will get you. There are too many witnesses now. The clerks in this exhibit have all seen you.”

  Jeanette swept both men with a knowing glance. “Both of you.”

  In the main part of the exhibit, the noise of frightened people was now overlaid with a police presence.

  “Find them.”

  “Spread out.”

  “Look in and around every booth.”

  “Clear these people out of here — and check them.”

  At the sound of law enforcement, Monnier’s sidekick spat a vulgarity, then pulled his gun. He pointed it down at Tony.

  Jeanette screamed, “No!” She looked for a weapon, anything, to throw off the man’s arm.

  Then she remembered.

  She pulled one of the bags of powder she’d bought from her pocket and threw it at the man�
�s face. He instinctively raised his arms to ward off the object.

  As he coughed from the irritating potion dust, she flung herself at the man, pushing his arm up as he fired the gun blindly in her direction.

  “Flower, no!” Monnier’s voice sounded afraid — for her. “He’ll kill you.”

  A hand shoved her out of the way. The bullet whizzed by her face so closely she could smell the heat. Behind her she heard a gasp of pain, but she was too busy struggling with the gunman to see whom he’d shot.

  She screamed once more, hoping help would soon come. She didn’t know how long she could hold him off. The man was strong — and trained. All she had going for her was that she was pissed and fighting for her and Tony’s lives.

  And, for a few short moments, sheer guts and strength of will had taken the upper hand.

  But within mere seconds, the struggle turned in the gunman’s favor. He back-handed her across the face with the butt of the gun, knocking her to the ground next to Tony.

  “Good-bye, bitch.”

  Jeanette closed her eyes, too exhausted and stunned to move. She said a prayer, then wept for her daughter, for Scott, for…

  A roar erupted over her head.

  “You fucking, back-stabbing bastard!” Walter shouted.

  Jeanette opened her eyes to see him throw himself between her and the gunman.

  She heard a loud discharge — then there was darkness.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  At the sound of screams coming from the direction of the VooDoo Exhibit, Scott left the men who’d accompanied him and tore off toward the building. At the entrance, pandemonium reigned. He shoved and twisted his way through the mass of frightened and crazed people who tried to exit the building. A frazzled police officer attempted to stem the exodus. At Scott’s upstream intrusion, the man threw him a questioning glance, but waved him on when he saw the hospital garb.

  Once inside, the scene wasn’t any better. Anarchy reigned. Police and private security guards milled around the center of the main aisle. They shouted contradictory orders, while booth owners yelled at the law officers to do something.

  Scott grimaced — the heck with them. He barreled his way up the main path, listening for anything that would indicate to him where Jeannie and Tony might be.

  As he approached the middle of the building, the sound of a single screamed “no” was heard above the racket in the exhibit. The cry was immediately followed by the sound of a gun.

  The single shot tore through his soul.

  Shoving horrible images aside, he strained to hear above the clamor in the building. He sensed the sound had come from behind and on his right. Going with his gut feelings, he cut between two tented exhibits, then turned to run toward the front of the building when a second scream occurred.

  Enraged, Scott raced toward the sounds of a fight.

  Then he was upon them.

  Tony on the ground — unmoving. His Jeannie struggled with a man who had a gun. The man knocked Jeannie to the ground and pointed the gun at her. He was going to kill her! And Scott wasn’t close enough to stop him.

  He dug down for more speed, but he wouldn’t make it. Even love can’t outrun a bullet.

  With a loud roar, another man leapt between Jeannie and the gunman. It was Walter Monnier! The gun fired once more. Monnier fell, covering Jeannie’s body with his.

  The killer looked around. He hadn’t noticed Scott — yet. And Scott couldn’t wait for the law to figure out what was going on. The keystone cops and private muscle were still trying to decide what had caused the commotion. Jeannie’s screams and the gun shots had been lost in the hubbub.

  He was the only person between the gunman and escape.

  Hugging the backs of the exhibits, Scott moved on the unsuspecting man who now leaned over Monnier — and Jeannie. Scott had to take him before the man decided to shoot again — a high-powered bullet could pass through Monnier’s body and hit Jeannie. If she was even alive. She had to be alive.

  Scott ran lightly, then leapt at the killer. He kept his hit low, his goal to push the man and the gun up and away from the two helpless people on the ground.

  Scott didn’t see the box until he hit it with his foot. The noise drew the gunman’s attention a millisecond before Scott tackled. The killer’s face was a mixed bag of hate, anger and shock. Even with the warning, Scott’s timing was better than good. He thrust the man’s arm up before the weapon went off. Scott’s body followed through and knocked the man away from the those on the ground.

  Scott now had the upper hand both in size and ability. The gunman fought to escape, not win. His desire to survive to kill another day lent strength to his wiry frame. The ensuing fight had no rules. Scott wouldn’t have it any other way.

  Peripheral movement from the aisle between the exhibits distracted Scott. A flash of blue, the dull shine of a revolver aimed in their direction caught his eye, then a voice yelled, “Hold it! Put your hands up and move away from each other!”

  The police officer’s untimely intervention disrupted Scott’s rabid concentration, distracting him long enough to give the gunman a chance to slip out of Scott’s strong grip. The murdering bastard bolted behind a small storage shed and out through a fire door at the side of the building.

  Dammit all to hell!

  Spinning round, he looked at the cop who’d turned the tide of the battle. “Get him, you fool!” Scott shouted. “He killed a man. He’s unarmed.”

  The cop’s blank face lit with understanding. He yelled for back up to cover the outside as he pursued the gunman through the door.

  With the forces of the law now after the culprit, Scott turned his attention to the injured.

  Monnier was dead. The holes in his chest and forehead told him that.

  He rushed to check on Jeannie, who’d uttered no sound since the single scream. She lay motionless under Monnier’s body. Fumbling for her pulse, he found it. It was strong.

  Tears of relief streamed down his face as he shifted Monnier’s dead-weight off her body and proceeded to check for other injuries. Lifting her head with one hand, he probed for lumps with the other. He found one — about the size of a golf ball. His hand came away with a small amount of blood. Because she hadn’t regained consciousness, he had to assume she had, at the very least, a concussion. Only x-rays would tell him if she’d fractured her skull.

  Spying a bag of styrofoam peanuts, he used them to cushion her head. Gently he probed her face. A vicious bruise on her jaw told him the bastard had struck her with his gun. It, too, would need to be x-rayed.

  A quick examination of the rest of her body showed no other wounds. All the blood was Monnier’s, not hers.

  Thank you, God.

  Satisfied she was in no immediate distress, he pulled a loose piece of tarp from a pile a boxes and covered her to keep her warm. Shock was still a potential problem.

  He’d done all he could for her until emergency personnel reached them.

  Before he turned to Tony, he brushed a kiss on her pale lips and stroked the hair off her brow.

  Movement from behind startled him into a defensive posture over Jeannie. Had the killer circled around to finish what he’d started?

  “Sir. Step aside please.”

  Scott looked up. Fire department emergency technicians stood behind him.

  Scott’s muscles relaxed. He shifted to the side, allowing them access but maintaining contact with Jeannie by placing a hand on her shoulder. While the EMT took vitals, he updated the tech on his preliminary examination.

  The tech nodded. “We’ll collar her to be on the safe side. If she hit the floor hard enough to raise a contusion that size, she might have some trauma to her neck.”

  The tech called over his shoulder, “Joe, how’s the other guy?”

  Scott was ashamed to admit he’d forgotten all about Tony with the arrival of the emergency personnel. Turning his head, he watched as the other EMT examined his friend.

  “Steady. Looks to have som
e contusions, possible concussion — need to check him out for a fracture. Guy seems to be able to answer all my questions, but the knot on his head is big and bled out big time.”

  The tech caring for Jeannie nodded. “Okay. We’re gonna transport two to Charity. Call it in, would you? I need to get this IV started.”

  Scott assisted with Jeannie’s IV, freeing up the tech to assist the man working on Tony. After Jeannie had been shifted to a rolling gurney, he gently brushed the back of his hand against her pale cheek. Then he went over to check on Tony.

  The other EMT and one of the security guards had shifted Tony onto a gurney. He was alert, but his dark skin was tinged with an unhealthy grey.

  “How’s Jeanette?” Tony winced as the gurney hit a bump, jostling him. “Damn, I ache all over.”

  “She’s fine.” Scott heaved a sigh and forced back the sob which threatened to escape. “If it hadn’t been for you, she might have been killed.”

  Tony started to shake his head, but stopped with a groan. “I didn’t do all that much. If it hadn’t been for the other guy, that Monnier fellow, we’d both be dead. He took one in the chest, then he threw himself between Jeannie and the gunman. I couldn’t do nothin’, just lay there. Damn, I was useless.” Tony reached up and grabbed Scott’s arm where it rested on the gurney. “Did he make it?”

  “No.”

  Out of habit, Scott took his friend’s pulse and found it to be normal. A cursory examination of Tony’s pupils showed them to be equal and responsive to the penlight he’d borrowed from the EMT. If Tony had a concussion, it was a mild one. Thank God his friend’s head was hard. He’d be okay.

  “I’ll ride with you to the hospital. Smooth the way for both of you.” Scott turned to see the EMT and a police officer carrying Jeannie to the ambulance. “We’ll regroup later.”

  “Scott.” Tony reached out and grabbed Scott’s arm. “Did they get the shooter?”

  The police officer walking alongside of Jeannie’s gurney heard the question. “No. The bastard got away. We’ve got his gun. Prints all over it. If he has a record, we’ll find him.”