by Brynne Asher
“This is Sergeant Woodall from the Sheriff’s Department. Who am I speaking with?”
“Asa Hollingsworth. I live with Keelie. What’s wrong?”
The facts roll off his tongue fast and urgently. “We’re at the high school and there’s been an incident. Ms. Lockhart made a call to nine-one-one reporting a shooting victim lying in the parking lot. She was cut off from our dispatcher—units were sent and we’re here in the parking lot at the school, but no one is here. The dispatcher lost her in the middle of the call.”
“No one?” I go back into the house and pass by the noise of the kids and head for the office I’ve taken over. Pulling the file for her SUV, I add, “She drives a silver Infiniti QX80. Do you see it?”
I hear him shout the make and model to someone around him but when he comes back, my insides tighten. “The lots are mostly empty. No make and model that fits that description in sight.”
I read off her tag number to the sergeant and add, “It can be tracked with the stolen vehicle locator. Can you do that faster than me?”
“Yeah. Give me the VIN and we’ll get that going,” he says and I hear him sigh. “And Mr. Hollingsworth, I need to let you know there was a phone lying on the pavement when we got here next to a pool of blood. From listening to the nine-one-one recording, I assume the victim is Tom Logan. There was another voice in the background right before it went dead, but we don’t know who that was.”
I give him the VIN and toss the papers to the desk. “I want to listen to that recording. I’m on my way.”
Grabbing my keys off the desk, I leave out the front door without saying goodbye and dial Levi. I hear him laugh into the phone. “Aren’t you in the next room?”
“Nobody leaves the house,” I demand. “Lock up and set the system. You and Emma feed the kids and get them to bed on time—I don’t know when I’ll be back. I’ll have someone come over and sit in the driveway.”
“Dad?” His voice turns grave. “What’s wrong?”
My stomach churns at his tone. “Something’s happened with Keelie. I don’t know what, but I’m gonna find out. Don’t say a word to the kids and make an excuse for me.”
“Yeah.” I hear him setting the alarm and moving away from the madhouse. “Bring her home, Dad.”
That cuts through me and I have to work hard to find my voice, because I know I’d die trying. “I will, son.”
*****
Keelie
When I open my eyes, the drum inside my head is pounding so hard, I’m afraid it could break through my skull. It makes the bump on the temple when Stan blew his tire out seem like a bug bite. I’m being jostled and thrown around—pain shooting through my brain.
Even though my vision is fuzzy, I know exactly where I am—I’d know this smell anywhere. I’m lying in the back of my brand-new SUV, but I’m not alone. I’m packed in like a sardine next to Tom Logan.
“Son of a bitch,” I hear from the front of the car and my breath catches. “If you’re going to shoot someone, fucking finish them off, you moron.”
I groan and everything comes back to me.
In the blink of an eye, Brett White knocked me out—I’m pretty sure with the butt of a gun.
“You just created a shit-storm. I’ve got two counselors I’m gonna have to do something about. This can’t be traced back to me.” Brett growls.
Oh, fuck. Brett White has been behind the drama all along.
“Yeah, I have them. It’s like Brandon Jakes and Kyler Sutherby all over again when they found out you were working for me and I had to deal with them, too. You fucked up again. I expect you to take care of these two, as well.”
Brandon and Kyler? Oh fuck, could it get any worse?
I don’t hear anything for a few moments until his outburst makes me cringe. “I think the common denominator is you. Maybe I need to put a hole in your head and find someone competent to work with, huh? When I get there you’d better fucking deal with these two. I don’t need a witness, understand?”
My car is moving fast to wherever we’re headed and it’s bumpy as hell. I try to protect my throbbing head from bouncing on the floor board in the cargo area. It feels like we’re off-roading—driving over rocks, boulders, and through valleys. Tom moans from the movement, and all I can think is thank God he’s moaning. It means he’s alive. I push up from the floor to feel my head spin and ache at the same time, and I have to squint to see through my blurry eyes. When I peek over the back seat as quick as I can, I confirm my nightmare.
Brett is driving the Infiniti and from the sounds of brush scratching along the sides with trees whizzing past us faster than they should—he’s really testing the limits of my new SUV, dammit.
Tom rolls to his back, this time letting out a wince from the pain. Dipping back down out of sight, I focus on Tom.
He opens his mouth to say something, but I shake my head and put my fingers to his lips, needing him to stay quiet. I have no idea how long we’ve been driving, where we are, or most importantly, how the hell we’re going to get out of this situation.
I don’t have long to contemplate this because with a sudden jerk, we’re thrown into the backseat from the force of my SUV coming to a stop. When Brett gets out and slams his door, I hold my breath thinking he’s going to come for us, but nothing happens.
After waiting a few moments, I push up to an elbow to look down at Tom and whisper, “How are you doing?”
Tom gives me a little nod and I unbutton his bloody shirt to find a bullet wound under his shoulder but above his chest. I have no idea how critical he is, but I’d think any bullet wound that isn’t a graze is pretty damn critical. He’s already lost a lot of blood. “I’m going to crawl up to the front of the car and see where he went. Maybe I can get us out of here if I hurry. Don’t move.”
I kick off my heels and heft myself up and over the rear bench seat. We’re in the middle of a field on a narrow lane that’s overgrown with brush and weeds. When I look out the front windshield, Brett is standing off in the distance near a small shack. I have to squint to make sure I’m seeing things correctly, but I think he’s talking to Raymond Wallace. Only he’s not just talking—Brett’s up in his face, poking his chest, and yelling.
I stay low as I crawl to the front seat. My purse is still laying on the floor. We got here, which means my fob is still in the car. For the first time in my life, I’m thankful for my small, short stature as I slip into the driver’s seat. Moving the seat up so I can reach when I press the ignition, I pray they argue a little longer. I’m going to have to act fast to get out of here and I don’t know where I’m going. There are two other cars parked off to the side, so they could easily follow.
Just when I’m about to press my foot on the brake with my finger on the ignition while saying a prayer the car starts—the door of the shack bangs open. Two other men exit, one on each side of poor Maggie Stockton, hefting her up under her arms. She’s unconscious and her feet are dragging behind her with her head lolling to the side.
I stop and peek over the dashboard and see one of the men hand an envelope to my principal. Brett opens it and Raymond Wallace steps away while staring at Maggie’s limp body.
I can’t even try to process what’s going on behind the scenes right now—it’s all too much. But if I tear out of here like a crazy woman, we might never see Maggie again and we’ve already lost Brandon and Kyler to this nightmare. I couldn’t live with myself if I left her.
Everyone seems to be happy with whatever trade they’ve agreed to, because the two men continue to drag Maggie off the porch.
Oh shit.
I press my foot to the brake and push the ignition button at the same time, my prayer being answered with the quiet hum of my luxury SUV. The moment my fancy car springs to life, all heads but Maggie’s turn to me. Brett’s eyes narrow and he starts to move. The moment I throw it into drive, my safety mechanisms switch into gear, locking all the doors. Sitting up straight since at this point it’s all for naught, I gra
sp the steering wheel with one hand and reach up to my rearview mirror to press the emergency button Asa showed me when he walked me through all the gadgets and gizmos.
Then I take my foot off the brake and hit the gas.
Hard.
A voice comes out over my sound system. “Ms. Lockhart? This is Infiniti Immediate Response. I need your password please.”
How I remember it, I have no idea, but yell loud and clear, “Jasmine!”
“Your vehicle was reported stolen and we have a location on you.”
I aim my SUV right for Brett White and all I have the mind space for right now is to plead, “Send help. Fast!”
Thank goodness Asa doesn’t skimp on anything. My huge engine doesn’t fail me, even through the rocks and brush. I go from zero to fast enough to kill someone in I don’t know how many fractions of a second. Brett realizes what’s coming and jumps to the side.
“Are you safe? Your vehicle location is currently being monitored. We’re tracking you and have local authorities en route.”
I jerk the steering wheel and when I make contact, my left front bumper slams into my principal. He might have ended up a grade-A asshole—and from the sounds of it a murderer—but he’s no match for my Infiniti.
He disappears from my sight. I back up and see the two men dragging Maggie and Raymond all running for their cars.
“Please hurry!” I beg over the hands-free system. “They have the young girl who was kidnapped and I don’t know what to do. I’m not getting out of this car.”
“Are you able to drive? Head for a safe location and I can direct the police to you,” the woman commands.
“I can’t leave Maggie.” I panic and crank the wheel all the way to the right. Bracing, I wonder how hard I have to hit for the airbags to deploy, and ram into the front of the car Raymond Wallace was driving the day I met him on Maggie’s front porch.
Letting out a breath of relief that I wasn’t slapped in the face by an explosion from my steering wheel, I reverse quickly, bumping all the way. I did enough damage to Raymond’s car—the front wheel is askew. Maybe it won’t be drivable. I hear Tom groan from the back.
“Are they close?” I ask the operator, desperately. “Tom’s been shot and needs help.”
“They’re coming upon your location. Maybe five minutes.”
Five minutes? Holy shit, we could be dead in less than one.
The two men are dragging Maggie through the brush to the other car. I grip the steering wheel and head that way. Right when I make contact with the second car, I scream from the sudden crash against my door and window.
When I look over, he’s not the same man I’ve come to know over the past two years. Brett White is bleeding from cuts and scratches down one side of his face and his suit jacket is torn, hanging off one shoulder. But it’s his eyes and expression that are laced with an evil I’ve never seen in him. He’s a different person—desperate and angry as he tries to get my door open while banging on my car trying to get in.
I scream and fumble to get the car into reverse. He keeps beating on my door, causing my Infiniti to rock with his force, and finally goes for my window with the butt of his gun. Before I can get the gear shifted, I scream. He breaks through, the glass shattering into a million pieces and falling into the car and all over me. Just as he reaches through and grabs me by my hair with one hand, he presses the gun violently into the side of my head with his other.
I try to scream, but can’t seem to force my body to make a sound.
With no other option, I hit the gas just as a gunshot rings through my ears.
*****
Asa
Grady, Crew, and Jarvis weren’t far when I called them. They’ve caught up, following in Grady’s Cadillac.
I have my own trackers on all my cars. Kills me the police took even the small amount of time they did to call her house. I could be to her by now.
I direct my truck into a field where her car is pinging on the map and throw my truck into four-wheel drive. I’m on what looks to be an old, overgrown road, and hit the gas.
When I come into a clearing, I grab my gun before I even have a chance to throw my truck into park. Keelie’s Infiniti is moving in reverse and White just reached through her driver’s window. I barely have the time to clear my door as I watch White bring his gun up.
I lift my arm, and at this range with no one else around, it’s easy.
I pull the trigger.
White’s head jerks and blood spews out the other side before he falls, dead to the ground.
Crew, Grady, and Jarvis don’t waste any time and run past me. Maggie is lying on the ground and three men are running off into the field.
I don’t give a shit. I go straight to Keelie.
The Infiniti is still moving, so as I run up to the driver’s door, I use my fob to unlock it. She screams and jolts, shocked when her eyes find mine. When I reach for the door, she puts her foot on the brake, causing the car to slam to a stop.
Gasping, she’s white knuckling the steering wheel with what looks to be all her strength and she’s covered in blood that I hope to God isn’t hers.
But she sits there, stock still, not moving a muscle.
I lower my voice. “Put it in park, baby.”
Her eyes bore into mine, but she doesn’t move a muscle.
Reaching over her, I shift it into park, making her jerk as I brush against her body.
I keep my focus on her and soften my voice. “It’s over. Let go of the steering wheel.”
She blinks once, and if anything, her hold tightens.
“Baby, come to me.” I hold my hand out for her.
She shakes her head—not like she doesn’t want to. Like she can’t.
I pry her fingers from the wheel, pulling her to me as glass rains down from her. The second I touch her, she deflates.
Through tears and sobs, she cries, “Tom is in the back of the car. He’s been shot. Not like when I was shot—he’s really shot and it’s bad and he’s lost a lot of blood. He needs an ambulance.”
“We’ll get him help.” I brush the glass off her and hold her to me as I see Crew come around the front of the car with a guy in cuffs. “Hey, her coworker’s been shot. He’s in the back.” Crew makes his way around her car and no sooner do I get the words out of my mouth, I hear sirens. “See? They’ll take care of him. It’s all over.”
“Brett White,” she hiccups. “He had something to do with Brandon and Kyler. I think he had them killed and he was going to kill us. And fuck, I’m pretty sure he just sold Maggie. I heard and saw it all.”
Grady comes around with another guy cuffed and Jarvis follows with Raymond Wallace. Dammit if Jarvis doesn’t look frustrated because the police showed up. Who the hell knows what kind of arrangement he had with Dooley. Whatever it was, it’s not happening now.
Police cruisers do their best to make their way through the brush, along with two ambulances. “See? It’s all over.”
As the police start to swarm and EMS tend to Tom and Maggie, Keelie sinks into me.
“It has to be over,” she mumbles into my chest. “There’re no unanswered questions now. He was behind it all.”
I don’t say anything because we do have a few things to figure out. I plan on marrying her soon and need to figure out how fast I can make that happen. But standing in the middle of a field with her dead principal lying at our feet, her coworker in the back of her car with a GSW to the chest, and an unconscious teenager, now is not the time.
Tomorrow. We’ll figure that out tomorrow.
Chapter 31
Perfect Chaos
Asa
Crew, Grady, and I are standing off to the side, watching a slew of teenagers gathered around a bonfire. The music is loud, Keelie and Danielle provided a mountain of food, and now that Keelie’s family left, it’s just the kids.
All the kids.
Keelie’s after-graduation party for Levi has proved to be the hotspot. I lost count around the sevent
y-fifth teenager and now I just have to make sure no one wanders off into the woods and gets pregnant on my watch.
Levi is sitting by the fire with Carissa curled into his chest. He looks away from a group of people they’re talking to and leans in to whisper something in her ear that makes her smile.
I shake my head. I don’t know whether to cringe because they’re too serious or be happy because he’s happy. My son graduated this afternoon and he leaves in a little over two months. I’ve reached the point in parenting where I can’t do much anymore—he is who he is. I’m just glad he’s not a dumbass and has his head screwed on straight. At least I’ll have more time with Emma.
“How’s Keelie doing?” Crew asks. “It’s only been a week. She looks okay, but she also looked okay right after she was grazed by a bullet the first time I met her.”
I lift my beer to my lips. “She’s good. Surprisingly good. I keep watching her, waiting for her to implode. She went to see Tom Logan yesterday. It hasn’t been easy, but he’s recovering. She also found out Maggie’s parents have put her in rehab for at least the next month. I guess she’s done a lot of experimenting. Beth is home and should make a full recovery.”
“Good news.” Grady tips his head toward the other side of the yard where Emma is sitting with a group of kids. “That, on the other hand, does not look like good news.”
When I look over, I have to agree—that is really bad fucking news. It’s all I can do not to go over there to rip the boy’s head off who’s been giving Emma way too much attention all night. I have no idea who he is, but he looks way too fucking old for her. They’d better not leave my sight or someone’s going to end up scared shitless. After all she went through this past year, I want nothing more than for her to be a teenager, enjoy school, and be happy.
But not that kind of happy.
I had less than a year with Levi, at least I have three more with her. But if this is what I have to look forward to—watching some hormonal boy drool all over my beautiful daughter—it’s going to be a long three years.