She knew that one of these days she’d have to cave in. She would have to get down on one knee and make Steph a happy woman in order not to lose her. However, that day wasn’t today.
“I’m not a Catholic. Are you?” Gary asked, interrupting her thoughts.
“I’m what you call a lapsed Catholic.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“As I understand it, not worshiping in a Catholic way, and doing naughty things that I haven’t said I’m sorry for. I haven’t been to confession since I first kissed a woman.”
“I’m a lapsed Methodist, myself. I don’t go to church except when Carol makes me.”
“When does she make you?”
“When Delia got sprinkled.”
“Well, now’s your time to make up for your lapse. Have at it.”
“No, thanks,” Gary said. He rose from the pew and walked over to the nearest window. He stood to the side and peeked out. “Still no movement over there,” he said after a moment. “We have a long wait in front of us. Drug dealers aren’t really morning people.”
Rosa closed her eyes and quieted her mind. A kind of peace washed over her. She thought of Steph and the other people in her life—how grateful she was to have them. Her life was wonderful. She couldn’t ask for more.
She’d been a lonely kid after her parents were killed in an auto accident. She didn’t remember much before that night. She had only been seven years old when they died. Her mamá and papá had been out celebrating their ten-year anniversary. Rosa was at home with Mrs. Sanchez, the next-door neighbor who spoke almost no English. Rosa was asleep when she heard the voices in the living room. She crawled out of bed, her bare feet cold on the hardwood floor. She felt vulnerable and small in her cotton nightgown. She softly padded down the hallway and peeked around the corner. A policemanstood in the open doorway with his hat in his hands. Mrs. Sanchez gasped and grabbed the open door for support. “¿Muerto?” she asked. “¿Estás seguro?”
That’s all Rosa remembered. It was like somebody had a remote control aimed at her life and they fast-forwarded a month. The next thing she knew she was in the state home with forty other parentless children.
Rosa adjusted to her new surroundings, her new life. She was a good student. She kept her head down and her friends few. Then, when she turned eighteen, the state was no longer responsible for her care and she walked out the doors a free woman.
Rosa went to college at at the University of Missouri at Kansas City and worked 35 hours a week at El Pollo Loco. She only made minimum wage, but she ate for free (when the manager wasn’t looking). Her college guidance counselor pushed her into the Health Care program because that was where all the jobs were. After she graduated college, she upgraded her fast-food job to being a receptionist at a doctor’s office. It was stifling and she hated it. Then one day she saw an ad for the Kansas City Police Academy. She signed up the very next day. She was only one year on the force when she met Steph.
Yes, by all accounts, her life was good. She muttered a quick prayer of gratitude.
Rosa opened her eyes. Gary was still standing near the window, but now his head was leaning against the stone wall and his eyes were closed. Rosa stayed quiet and waited. She thought Gary must be deep in prayer. Then she heard him snore.
Rosa hissed, “Gary! Wake up!”
His head jerked up. “I wasn’t sleeping.”
“You were snoring.”
“I was practicing deep breathing.”
“Yeah, right,” Rosa said. She got up. “Come on, we’ll light a couple of candles for luck.” She dug into her pocket and pulled out a five-dollar bill. The candles were only a dollar, but the church always needed money. And right now, they were using the services the church provided. They struck their matches and lit the small white candles.
“Dear God,” Gary said. He yawned then continued, “Please let us catch the drug dealers.”
Rosa stared at the tiny, flickering flame of her candle and added softly, “And keep us safe from harm.”
“Amen,” they both said at the same time.
***
The morning passed without incident. Rosa and Gary took turns watching the house through the church’s window. Finally, around noon, Rosa opened the lunch bag and dealt out the sandwiches. Gary ate like a man who had been doing hard labor all morning. Rosa barely picked at her sandwich. For some reason, her stomach was upset. She didn’t feel like eating. She blamed it on the church atmosphere. It wasn’t exactly conducive to roast beef.
“Pizza,” Gary said through a mouthful of sandwich.
“Haven’t you eaten enough?”
“No,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “They’re finally up over there. Pizza delivery.”
Rosa rushed to the window and looked out. She saw a Domino’s pizza delivery guy get out of his banged-up Ford Focus and lope across the yard, with four pizza boxes held in front of him. He knocked on the door. After a moment, the door opened, and the kid stepped inside.
“Four?” Rosa muttered. “How many you think are in there if they ordered four pizzas?”
“Too many, that’s how many,” Gary replied.
The door reopened and the kid stepped back out with a wad of bills in his hand. He counted the money as he walked back to his car. He got in and sped away.
“Carrot?” Rosa asked, holding the baggie out to Gary. He waved it away.
“What’s for dessert?” he asked.
“Peanut butter cookies.” Rosa held out the bag and Gary grabbed two of the cookies. “Steph is wonderful. You should marry her.”
“Not you, too,” Rosa said.
They munched on their cookies and stared out the window. “Uh oh,” Gary said, “Here comes trouble.”
A black Lexus SUV backed into the driveway. Gary pulled out the binoculars. “Whoa, those guys look like some bad hombres.”
“Meaning?” Rosa asked, taking the glasses from him.
She peered through the binoculars and watched two men, both wearing dark tailored suits and one carrying a briefcase, walk up to the house. She thought it was odd the way they parked. They could have pulled up in front of the Lincoln Navigator but the parking was tight because Mrs. Smither’s ancient Cadillac Seville was parked in front of her house next door. It looked like the two guys with the briefcase planned on getting out quick.
“I’m thinking we’ve got some big stuff coming down,” Gary said, his excitement evident.
They heard two distinct pops. “Gunshots,” Rosa said. “Call for back-up.” She shrugged off the fur coat and pulled her Glock. She clicked off the safety and chambered the first bullet.
As she ran down the church aisle toward the door, she heard Gary calling for back-up.
***
Rosa and Gary ran out the church doors and cut across the street. They reached the Lexus SUV and crouched behind its hood.
Rosa’s breath came in short bursts and pounded in her ears. She felt like she was wearing a diving mask, as if she couldn’t get enough oxygen. She peeked over the hood of the Lexus.
“See anything?” Gary whispered.
Rosa ducked again and shook her head. “Nothing,” she said. “Where’s our back-up?”
“On the way,” Gary said. “All we have to do is hold them off for a little.”
“Oh, shit,” Rosa said, her eyes widening.
Gary turned to see what Rosa was looking at. It was Mrs. Smithers from next door. She looked wild, gray hair blowing in the wind, wearing an apron over a shapeless dress, her baggy socks bunched around her ankles. She was holding a shotgun. She marched into her yard and aimed the gun at the house next door.
“She’s going to get killed,” Rosa said.
Gary motioned for the old woman to get back in her house. She didn’t see him.
“Go get her,” Rosa said. “Get her back in the house. I’ll hold these guys off if they come out.”
Gary took off. He was halfway to Mrs. Smithers when the first g
unshot went off. It knocked him to his knees. Rosa saw the red bloom on Gary’s back. It looked like a paintball splatter.
Mrs. Smother’s fired her shotgun. The recoil knocked her off her feet and she fell to the ground.
Rosa whipped around and looked over the hood of the Lexus. She came face to face with a man. He was only ten feet away and aiming a gun right at her.
Rosa fired her gun at the man. She turned to run. She heard several gunshots. Something hit her in the back and she collapsed.
Time whirled away.
When she opened her eyes, her ears were ringing. Had she passed out? For how long?
Her nostrils flared at the smell of gunpowder.
She was lying in the driveway. Her cheek was cold against the cement. She saw Gary sprawled in the grass twenty, maybe thirty, feet away. Why wasn’t he moving? She turned her head.
Dead man. On his back. His blank eyes stared at her. Bullet hole in the middle of his forehead. Had she killed him?
More gunshots.
Who was shooting?
Where was her gun? She frantically looked around, but didn’t see it anywhere. Using her hands, Rosa crawled. She clawed at the concrete. Dragged her body one inch at a time. Under the Lexus.
From under the car, Rosa saw feet run by.
More gunshots.
“Gary!” she shouted. Or tried to shout. Her ears weren’t working properly. She couldn’t tell if she was shouting or whispering.
Time swam by and Rosa tried not to pass out. She counted her breaths. One. Two. Three. Four.
She tasted metal. And blood. She focused on her hand. Curled and uncurled her fingers.
Five. Six. Seven.
Where was back-up?
Everything went black.
Chapter Two
Steph lived for her days off. As much as she loved her job, being a firefighter was exhausting work. She used her days off to reenergize. To reconnect with the important things in life. Like Rosa, her friends, her house. Steph thought of her house as a person. It was warm, inviting, and at the moment, smelled like cookies. If her house were to be personified, it would look like a grandmother, bifocals perched on the end of her nose, a shawl thrown over her shoulders, and always there for a hug.
Steph sat out on the back deck sipping iced tea with her best friend, Parker. Weather permitting, this was the best seat in the house. From the vantage point of the deck, Steph could view the English cottage garden she had spent ten years cultivating. She was surrounded by her precious herbs and the birds she kept fed year-round with stale bread crumbs.
“So, how’s it going with Amy and the new live-in arrangement?” Steph asked.
“Aha. Here’s the real reason you called me over here. You wanted to pry into my love life.”
“Who, me?” Steph asked innocently.
“Yeah, you. Somehow I get the feeling you didn’t really need me to fix the deck foundation,” Parker said. Parker was a carpenter. She owned her own business and make a good living at it.
“Of course I did,” Steph said. “The whole left side was listing.”
“All I did was shim it. You could’ve done that.” Parker stood and walked over to the deck’s stairs. She bounced gently on the top step. “We should replace these boards soon,” Parker said.
“You think so?”
“Or you could just wait until somebody falls through.”
“You didn’t answer my question about Amy,” Steph said, not to be put off.
Parker sat back down. “Amy never asks me if I liked her latest story in the newspaper. You know why?”
“No. Why?”
“Because she knows I can’t lie.”
“What’s your point?” Steph asked.
“My point is… Don’t ask me a question unless you want the unvarnished truth.”
Steph studied her friend. Parker was tall, athletic, blond with blue eyes, and drop-dead gorgeous. She had also been diagnosed with Asperger’s syndrome. She was quiet, socially awkward, and said exactly what she thought. This tended to annoy people who didn’t know her well. Amy was the perfect fit for Parker. She loved Parker for who and how she was.
“So, how’s it going, living with Amy?” Steph asked again, hoping that a simple rephrasing of the question would get an answer.
“It’s wonderful. I couldn’t be happier.” Parker quickly changed the subject, “I’m glad that Mabel and Clara bought Amy’s old house. Millie is very happy to have her best friends living next door to her. We knew she’d miss Amy so it was a win-win, as you people put it.”
When Parker alluded to “you people” she meant people like Steph who understood social conventions and did so easily.
“Yeah, well, it was a win-win since the city pulled that eminent domain crap and stole their house because the hospital needed more parking,” Steph said.
“Mabel made a killing when she sold her house.”
“There’s more to life than money.”
“She didn’t want to spend her life surrounded by asphalt and parked cars,” Parker said.
Steph checked her phone then put it on the table. “I wonder what’s up with Rosa. She usually calls on her lunch break.”
“She’s probably busy.”
“Yeah, busy eating my peanut butter cookies,” Steph said. The oven timer went off. “Speaking of which, you want one, fresh from the oven?”
“When would I turn down a cookie, especially one of yours?” Parker said.
Steph stood with a groan, placing one hand on the small of her back. Ever since she had turned forty, groaning had become a way of life. She placed her iced tea on the tiled table beside her phone. “I’ll be right back with two cookies. I’m saving the rest to take to the station.”
Steph headed for the kitchen, humming “We Are the Champions” by Queen. She took the cookies out of the oven and placed the cookie sheet on the top of the stove. She had just started into “We will rock you” when she heard her phone ring. She had left it outside on the table.
Steph called out, “Answer that for me, would you, Park? It’s probably Rosa.”
“Hello?” she heard Parker answer.
Steph scooped up the hot cookies with a spatula and placed them carefully onto a wire cooling rack.
“Steph…”
Steph looked up. Parker was standing just inside the kitchen, her phone in her hand. Her face was pale. She looked shell-shocked.
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know how to say it,” Parker said.
“Oh my god,” Steph breathed. She felt her head spin. “Was that Rosa on the phone?”
Parker shook her head.
“What? Tell me, Parker.”
“That was Eric. You know, your friend, the firefighter. The guy you work...”
“I know who Eric is!” Steph spat. “Tell me what he said.”
“Rosa’s been shot. They were doing a stakeout. Drug dealers. She was shot by one of them.”
Steph stood frozen, not moving, barely breathing. She felt like she was underwater, sinking, not knowing which way was up. “Is she…”
“She’s hurt. Bad.”
Steph dropped the spatula. It clanked as it hit the floor. Neither moved to pick it up.
“We have to go,” Parker said. “We have to go to the hospital. I’ll drive.” She moved quickly to the back door, shutting and locking it. When she got back to the kitchen, Steph was still standing exactly where she had been. The spatula was still on the floor.
Parker turned off the oven, took Steph by the shoulders, and turned her around. She pushed her toward the door. “You can’t freeze up. Rosa needs you. C’mon.” Parker led her friend out the door and to her van.
***
They didn’t talk on the way to the hospital. As they pulled into the ER, Parker sat with the van running. “I’m going to go park, you go inside and find Susan. She’ll be there. Eric called her as soon as he got on the scene.”
“Did Rosa say anything?” Steph managed to sa
y. Her mouth was so dry she could barely get the words out.
“She was unconscious when they got to her. That’s all I know.”
“Oh god, Parker,” Steph said. She covered her face with both hands. Her shoulders shook from the force of her silent tears.
Parker shifted back into drive and edged the van into the fire lane. “I’ll help you go in,” she said.
Steph looked up. “You’ll get a ticket.”
“Like I care,” Parker said. She turned the van off and came around to the passenger door and opened it. “You have to get it together, Steph. You’re a firefighter, act like one. Rosa needs you. Got it?”
Parker’s words had the desired effect. Steph straightened and took a deep, shaky breath. It was times like this that Parker’s abrupt manner was an asset. Steph was an emergency specialist known for her cool thinking under pressure. She had to pull herself together. She rubbed her hands over her face, wiping away her tears, and got out of the van. “You’re right. I can do this,” she said.
“Yes, you can,” Parker said. She shut the door behind Steph.
When they walked into the ER, Eric and Sal rushed up to her. They wore twin expressions of concern. Both Eric and Sal were muscle-bound and young, but at the moment they looked like two old men. Tragedy had a way of aging people quickly.
Eric spoke first. “She’s going to be all right. You have to believe that. Rosa’s a fighter.”
Eric was Steph’s best friend at the station. He was pulling an extra shift today which was why he was working during their four-day-off rotation. For once, Steph was glad she hadn’t been on the call. She wouldn’t have been an asset. Not this time. She couldn’t have handled finding Rosa shot.
Steph fought to make sense of what had happened. Her mind was reeling and it needed facts, something solid to hold onto. “What happened? Where’s Gary?” Steph asked.
Eric and Sal glanced at each other and then down at the floor. Sal spoke first this time, “Gary didn’t make it.”
Straight from the Heart Page 2