by Alan Chaput
Her phone rang. The landline. She closed the heavy safe door, spun the dial and grabbed the office handset, glancing at the caller ID. Her mother. Perfect timing. As tightly wound as she was, she could use Mama’s quiet voice and calm manner.
Ever since Patricia left home for college twenty-five years ago, Mama called each day around three or so, and they chatted until they ran out of topics. It was a daily routine that brought joy to Patricia, and she certainly needed a shot of Mama’s joy.
“Hello, Mama.”
“Hello, sweetheart. Did my precious granddaughter get on her way back to college okay?”
“Sure ‘nuf.” Patricia bit down on her lip. “But Hayley’s spring break was too short. I’m already missing her a bunch.”
“I had a marvelous time with her too.” Her mother sighed. “My but she’s growing into such a fine woman.”
“Most certainly. Independent too.” Patricia had tried to establish the daily call routine with Hayley at college without success. Hayley claimed she was too busy studying.
“Would you like to go to a movie later this afternoon?” Patricia went into the study at the front of the house. She thought about sitting down, but she was too keyed up. She paced instead. “I’m truly sorry, Mama, but I’m not up to it today.” She slumped onto the overstuffed sofa and kicked off her tactical boots. “How about tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow is my weekly tennis game with Judy.”
“Oh yes. How could I forget that?” She stood, her feet finding precious comfort in the plush carpet, stepped to the window and looked out. Wind lifted the long stands of moss that hung like gray curtains from the huge oaks. A storm was on the way. “How about the following day?”
“That works. I’ll drive.”
“That’s not necessary, Mama. I can pick you up.”
“No, I insist. I want to show you my new car.”
Patricia removed a plump strawberry from the fruit bowl. The boy at the farmers’ market said he’d just picked them that morning. She took a small bite. Her mouth filled with the intense flavor and juicy sweetness. “A new car?” she asked. “You already have three cars. What on earth would you need another one for?”
“I still only have three. My financial advisor, Sonny, suggested I get rid of the Escalade. I haven’t driven it much since your father passed, bless his heart. It was too much car for me.”
“With a sterling reputation like yours, Mama, I don’t understand how you can do business with a blatant womanizer like Sonny.”
“Sonny may have shortcomings, but he’s a damn good accountant.”
“What did you replace the Escalade with?” Patricia asked, watching the tea olive bushes that lined one side of the driveway. They were handling the rising wind well.
“A vintage Mustang convertible.”
“Red?”
“You betcha.”
Patricia chuckled. “You’re such a red-hot mama.”
Her mother’s raucous laughter could probably be heard all the way to Jacksonville. “I’ll pick you up at three.”
“I can’t wait.”
A horse-drawn carriage of tourists eased by Patricia’s front gate.
“What’s got you down today, honey?” Her mother always seemed to know when she was troubled.
Patricia tensed as her thoughts returned to Faith’s porch. It would be unthinkable to lie to Mama. “A problem with a pickup.”
“Oh my. What happened?”
Patricia took a breath and slowly let it out. “Things got out of hand.”
“Are you okay?”
Her gaze drifted from the tourists to the tree-shrouded city square they’d stopped to admire, one centered with a statue of her husband Trey’s great-grandfather. Falcon Square. There were so many squares in Savannah the tourists probably didn’t care what they were called. But she did. She was proud to be a member of the Falcon family, and to be part of a Savannah heritage dating to colonial times. But had her failure today marred the Falcon name? Would Trey’s family, or better yet her own reputable family, consider her a coward?
“Patricia, are you okay?” her mother repeated.
“No.” Something inside Patricia ignited, then her frustration exploded like a shaken bottle of champagne. “The husband showed up. He was supposed to be at work. He got the drop on me. He reached behind his back…” She paused to catch her breath, then her unbridled mouth resumed its babble. “I hesitated. The creep shoved his gun in my face.”
“That’s horrible,” Mama said.
“No, that wasn’t the horrible part.” Patricia sighed. “When he reached behind his back I had a good idea what he was likely to be doing. He even fumbled while doing it. I had plenty of time to draw my weapon and maintain control, but I froze. I froze and put my friends and the poor abused woman in harm’s way. Thank God Judy was there.”
“What did Judy do?”
“Came up behind him. Jammed her gun against his head. Took control. Bless her heart.” Patricia took a moment to gather herself. “I hesitated. I ... I failed the team.” Mom must think I’ve lost my mind. Patricia clamped a hand over her mouth to stop rambling.
“What made you hesitate?”
“My first reaction when he reached behind his back was he was going for a gun. It was just like I’d been trained. But then I thought, if I pulled my weapon and he produced a gun and aimed it at me I’d have to shoot him. Probably kill him. And even though he’s a woman-beating jerk, did he deserve to die? And who made me judge and executioner? And that hesitation put my entire team in jeopardy.”
“Oh honey, I understand. You’re only human. You had a natural reaction to potentially killing another human. Of course it’s overwhelming. Maybe it’s too much. Do you want to continue picking up these women, or do you need a break?”
Patricia let out a sigh. “Do you want me to stop?”
“You can’t ask me that. I’m your mother. I don’t want you ever in danger, but it’s your decision. Entirely yours. And I’ll support whatever you decide.”
“I really believe in this cause, but what if I’m not cut out for it?”
“I believe you are. That’s why I asked you. And you did so well in your training. But you were lucky today. Not everyone gets a second chance when they have a gun pointed at them. I definitely don’t want you or any of your team getting hurt, or … I couldn’t stand that.”
“I do want to continue, Mama. I can’t imagine doing anything else. I know I’d miss the satisfaction I experience when those poor souls enter your shelter and get some measure of safety for the first time. I’m in one hundred percent. But I think I need more training, more assurance that the next time I won’t endanger my teammates by hesitating. I’m going for more tactical practice.”
“You sure? Do you think more training will not only make you draw your weapon without hesitation, but also make you use it next time? Make you a killer?”
“I guess I won’t know until either I or my team are threatened again. Did you know you could shoot someone before you did?”
“No. You have to be tough or crazy to shoot a person. And neither you nor I are crazy. Though I thought I was when I first shot someone.”
“Could you shoot a person again?”
The phone was silent for a moment. “Under the right circumstances? Yes, indeed.”
“How do I get there?”
“Honey, as a Falcon you have no choice.”
Patricia shivered. “I need to conquer my fear.”
“Yes you do, but be careful, child. Having a gun is a huge responsibility.”
That was the problem. She’d been too careful. “I understand. And I know what being a Falcon demands.” Patricia sighed. “I have no choice but to carry a gun, and if I carry a gun I must be able to use it. Right now, all I can think of is more training. So that’s what I’ll do.”
“I pray you’ll never have to use a gun, honey, but if you must, you will for my sake and your team’s sake. Patricia, my personal trainer just arrived.
I’ll talk with you again tomorrow. Love ya.”
“Love you too, Mama.”
After the call, Patricia took a shower, dressed in a pink floral shift, then returned to the safe and picked up her handgun. The grip fit her hand perfectly. The gun felt right. Like a part of her. A lifesaving tool she needed because her world was dangerous. Trey’s legal profession, his inherited responsibilities at the Cotton Coalition, and their wealth all attracted criminals. As Mama said, she had no choice. If she wanted her independence, she’d have to be able to defend herself.
Arm extended, she sighted down the barrel. Power eroded her doubts. She could do this. She would do this.
Chapter 2
Ten hours later, in the darkness of early morning, Patricia turned her Escalade onto a dimly lit, cobbled side street. She eased the large SUV to the curb and killed the engine.
After the uncertainty at Faith’s house, Patricia wondered why she’d let Judy talk her into doing this job. And, more importantly, why in God’s name had she brought the damned gun? She wasn’t ready to use it, not yet. She needed more time.
Worn down by self-doubt, she wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. She regretted promising Judy she’d help her. True, the probability of having another life-threatening situation was remote. In the three years they had been transport abuse victims, yesterday afternoon was the only time she’d looked down the wrong end of a gun barrel. She shuddered. The small caliber pistol had looked like the mouth of a cannon.
Going on another mission tonight was like venturing back on a frozen lake you’d just fallen through. But a promise was a promise, and loyalty meant sucking up the discomfort and moving forward.
Not another car in sight. No pedestrians. Somewhat unusual for two in the morning in the entertainment district of historic Savannah, but entirely suitable for their purpose.
“You ready for this?” she asked Judy, though she was really asking herself.
“Hell yes, I’m ready.” Judy gave a wide smile.
“What are you smiling about?”
“I’m thinking about how good it’s going to be to get the goods on my cheating husband.”
“If we get caught, you won’t be smiling.”
“I’ve practiced my lines.” Judy tilted her head. “Why, Mr. Officer, we ladies weren’t doin’ nothin’ wrong. This is my husband’s office. My friend and I were out socializin’ and I realized I had forgotten my house key. He keeps one here. And well, I didn’t want him to know how late we were out.”
“Is there a house key in his office?”
Judy turned her palms up. “Hell if I know.”
Patricia shook her head. “You realize things could happen?”
“Things?”
“Savannah has a high crime rate. Someone might try to mug us. The tracking device I put on the guard’s car might malfunction. Someone might see—”
“Patricia, stop fretting. Your tracking device is working just fine, thank you very much. And look around. Do you see any muggers on this street? Homeless? Party animals? Anyone?”
“No.”
“Then let’s get moving.”
Patricia grabbed her bag and stepped out. A typical spring night in Savannah. Nothing finer. The warm, jasmine-scented air settled her. She could do this.
Judy slipped from the car, and the two headed toward the corner. At five feet nine, Judy not only towered over Patricia by three inches, but her eager stride had Patricia on the verge of running.
Patricia’s ankle suddenly turned on a broken slab of concrete sending a sharp pain through her ankle. She mumbled, “Damn,” as her leg buckled and threw her off balance. Stumbling, she grabbed Judy for stability.
“What?” Judy asked.
“Slow down. I’ve never known anyone who can run in heels like you. I nearly broke my ankle on that crack. Watch your step. There’s bound to be more. Slow down, OK? We don’t need a trip to the hospital.”
“Okay. Cautious it is. Are you all right, sweetie?”
Patricia extended and rotated her foot. Full range of motion. She weight-tested her ankle and then took several tentative steps. No pain. “Seems so.”
She and Judy turned the corner at The French Bakery. The restored building that housed Beau’s medical offices loomed halfway down the block. Farther down the street, two guys were walking away from them. No problem there.
Their biggest issue would be the security guard who did rounds of several properties in downtown Savannah. If they were caught in Beau’s office they had a cover story, but there was always a chance something bizarre could occur. The guard might overreact, might pull his gun, might shoot. Patricia’s heart thudded. Her mind was flooding with ‘what ifs.’ She was on the verge of panic with no reason but fear of the unknown. This is crazy. She sucked in air. They absolutely had to avoid the guard.
They knew the properties he patrolled, but because he visited the properties randomly they couldn’t know his exact route tonight.
At the entrance to the building, Judy fumbled with the key in the dark while Patricia removed the wireless receiver from her purse and turned it on. “He’s four blocks away,” she announced without glancing up.
She stuffed a wisp of blond curl behind her ear and pushed back a sleeve to view her watch. This wasn’t her first clandestine entry, but repetition didn’t ease her tension. As soon as Judy opened the door, Patricia punched the timer button. “All right. Let’s do this thing.”
Judy headed straight to the security pad and punched in the code that disabled the office’s security system.
Patricia was amazed Judy had ferreted out the numbers so easily. One of her many skills. Judy had it all—deportment, natural beauty, education, and more curves than a mountain road. She also had a handsome husband who slept around.
The two strode noiselessly down the hall to Beau’s office and went inside. The office was tasteful and modest, except for the photos of him schmoozing with dignitaries, catching big fish and skiing in the Alps. There wasn’t a single picture of him and Judy. Patricia pointed to a fishing photo. “As big as that swordfish is, I don’t think it’s a big as his ego.”
Judy chuckled. “Right on.”
The space was more a small conference room than an office. A circular table functioned as a desk. Patricia’s hyper-alert senses caught the sharp hint of incense in the air, something she hadn’t known Judy’s husband to use. “What does he use this office for? I’ve only seen his hospital office when I’ve taken my mom to see him.”
“He keeps this for consultations.”
“I’m surprised there’s not a Murphy bed in here.” Patricia looked at her scanner. “The guard is three blocks away. If Beau’s office is next on his route, we have ten minutes max to clear out,” Patricia said. She stretched to close the blinds overlooking one of the town’s original squares while Judy turned on her husband’s unsecured office computer.
Two minutes later, Patricia asked, “Are you in yet?”
“It just booted up. Hold on.”
Light from the computer screen illuminated Judy’s sober face. Her green eyes, a shade darker than Patricia’s, were wide with what might have been alarm. Judy sucked air through her teeth and mumbled, “My Lord.”
“Is it bad?” Patricia asked, coming around the table to comfort her friend.
“Oh my, it’s worse than I had ever imagined.” Judy cupped her face, her eyes mapping, reading, and recording. “He has a house in St. John. It’s all here. Names. Places. Notes on what they did. The creep even grades the poor deluded women.”
Patricia touched Judy’s hand lightly. “Oh, I’m so sorry, honey. He doesn’t deserve you. What a snake.” Patricia’s watch beeped. “Seven minutes. We’ve been in here for three minutes. Time to go.”
“I need a copy of this calendar,” Judy said.
“Hurry.”
Judy took her smartphone from her pocket and snapped a photo of the screen. Glancing at the display, she said, “This will do for now.” She shut of
f the computer.
A deafening clap of thunder erupted, and then another clap exploded too close.
“Out. Now,” Patricia said. “Oh, damn. I forgot to open the shades.”
“No time,” Judy said.
“We have to make time. The closed blinds are a giveaway someone was in here.”
Judy tapped her fingers on her watch. “Make it quick.”
One by one, Patricia elevated the blinds.
The desk phone rang. They both looked it. Did someone see us come in here? Patricia looked closer. It was a blocked number.
“Maybe Beau is expecting this call.” Judy’s eyes widened. “Maybe he’s on the way?”
“Maybe it’s just a booty call.”
Judy scowled at her.
“Too soon?”
Ring. Ring.
“Let’s ignore the blinds and get out of here,” Judy said as she headed for the hall.
Patricia grabbed the last cord and yanked it, but the shade stayed in place. Dammit, wrong cord. With shaking hands, she fumbled with the other cord, tugged, but the blind wouldn’t rise.
“Come on, Patricia.”
Ring. Ring.
Only two cords, neither worked. Oh yes, release the catch. She pulled the cord to the side. As she hastily raised the last blind overlooking the square, she gasped and went for the gun she’d left in her purse.
A man, a stranger, stood anchored like a statue right outside the window, facing her just a pane of glass away.
She jerked. Gasped. Coldness hit her like a blast of arctic air, freezing her muscles and overpowering her desperate need to run. Patricia’s heart thumped frantically.
Startled, round eyes as large as palmetto bugs loomed on the other side of the window. A bulky man with a prominent scar in his eyebrow, his long dark hair dangled in disarray. His eyes narrowed.
Ring, ring.
“Come on, Patricia, let’s get out of here.”
Patricia glanced at Judy then looked back at the window. He was gone. “There was a man right here.”
“Where?”
“On the other side of the window.”
“That does it,” Judy said. “Out now.”