by J. C. Gatlin
Kim tried not to listen, to keep him out of her head. She was half deaf anyway, with one ear pressed tightly to the rough sheetrock of the closet wall. Clothing weighed heavy on her back and pressed against her sides. Her chest barely had room to expand, barely accommodating her own shallow breaths. The drumming of her compressed heart against her breastbone beat so loudly in her ears, it seemed to fill the claustrophobic confines of her hiding place to the point she was certain the landlord would hear.
He turned his head toward her direction, and stepped toward the closet. Another red droplet fell in front of his boot, as he raised his arm, positioning the spiked awl. There was a mournful longing in his voice, like that of a father who must put down the beloved family dog.
“In death, you will always be innocent.” His voice faded, losing its edge. “In death, you will be safe.”
Kim shut her eyes, summoning her strength, trying not to think about the sharp tool from which the blood dripped. She struggled to keep her fragile control.
Taking a quick, sharp breath, she opened her eyes again.
The landlord was standing in the ray of moonlight cascading down from the skylight. He bent at the knees, studying the sparkling diamond on the floor. He picked it up.
It was the opportunity Kim was waiting for.
Leaping up from her crouched position, she spun out of the closet and slammed him in the midsection. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she threw her weight into him and they fell to the floor. He rolled on top of her, grabbing her throat. She bit into his arm. Shrieking, he let go, falling sideways.
Kim rolled on top of him and reached for the handle of the awl. He caught her wrist and bent her arm back. She screamed, punching him in the face with her other arm. Twisting, he rolled her over and straddled her, pinning her to the floor.
She could see the awl laying near her on the floor. She reached for it, stretching her arm till the tendons burned taught. Her fingers grasped the wood handle. He reached over, on top of her, and took the sharp tool from her grasp.
“I failed Bonnie.” He leaned forward, speaking in her ear. “But I won’t fail you.”
Kim struggled but he overpowered her. He leaned forward on top of her, bringing his face closer to hers, his breath tingling her cheek.
“You understand, Missy,” he said. “This is the only way I can protect your innocence.”
Kim turned her head to the side, her cheek pressed to the carpet. Her face contorted as she fought against him, her eyes desperately searching for something. Anything.
“I will make it quick and painless.” His weight shifted on top of her. She could hear him but his voice sounded disconnected from his body. She watched his lips move. “I want you to know this will hurt me more than it hurts you.”
He shifted his weight again, restricting her breath. Gasping, she looked up at his arm. He raised it above his head. His hand gripped the awl. He pointed the silver spike downward.
A flash of motion came up beside him and the old man’s face twisted to the side, at the same time surprised and confused. He never saw the wooden baseball bat slam into the side of his head, smashing his face and breaking his jawbone. His whole body flung to the side as blood, spit and teeth exploded from his mouth like shrapnel and embedded into the wall. The old man slumped forward, landing on top of her. Blood spilled out his nose and mouth.
Kim exhaled.
Standing above them, a red headed woman firmly gripped a baseball bat.
“Yeah,” Mallory said, panting. “That probably hurt too.”
Kim rolled the old man off her. His blood splattered her shirt, arms and face. Mallory helped her to her feet.
The room fell silent again.
Mallory stood over the body.
“The old landlord? Really?” She looked at Kim. “We should’ve seen that coming a mile away.”
Drawing a breath, Kim took the bloody baseball bat from Mallory’s fixed grip and set it on the bed. Gunz Gonzales' autograph was slightly smudged with a bloody print. It made her smile, then she looked down at the body.
“We just get stronger.” Kim clenched her jaw to kill the sob in her throat.
There was a pool of blood at her feet, streaming toward the engagement ring still lying a foot away. The diamond sparkled and Mallory reached for it.
“Leave it,” Kim said, taking Mallory's hand. Together, they moved out of the loft.
Once downstairs, Kim gingerly lifted Zeus into her arms. He was bleeding. But, she could feel the faint murmur of his heart. It made her eyes tear with an equally faint glimmer of hope.
There wasn't much time.
Mallory took the hand-stitched quilt from the back of the recliner and handed it to Kim. She tightly wrapped the dog and held him close. A large brown eye flittered opened and looked up at her. Kim smiled and ran a hand over his head and massaged the skin between his ears.
Calmly, she stepped out the front door and carried him out of the townhome. Mallory followed.
They waited for the ambulance. When it arrived, its bright red-orange lights and shrill siren interrupted the night and brought the neighbors to their windows and front porches. Mrs. Roundtree was there holding her Pekingese in her arms. Kim handed Zeus to the paramedics in the back of the ambulance.
As the police arrived in a swarm of squad cars,
Kim painfully climbed inside the ambulance and sat next to her dog. Mallory grabbed her hand and squeezed it. Their eyes locked, but there was nothing
left to say.
After a few moments, Mallory let go of Kim's hand. The paramedics shut the doors and the ambulance moved forward through the open security gates, then disappeared down the street.
Also by JC Gatlin...
The Designated Survivor
Available on Amazon.com
in paperback & Kindle
Visit JC's mystery-suspense blog at
www.JCGatlin.com
Bio
JC Gatlin lives in Tampa, Florida. In addition to regular fishing trips, he wrote a monthly column in New Tampa Style magazine, then began penning several mystery
suspense stories. His first, 'The Designated Survivor,' was published in 2013. He also maintains a mystery writing blog at www.jcgatlin.com
Coming from a large family with five brothers, JC grew up in Grapevine, Texas, a small town just outside Dallas. He moved to Tampa in 1999, and most of his stories feature the rich landscapes of Texas and Florida as backdrop.