Restore My Heart

by Cheryl Norman

  “Give me a light,” Dan said.

  Sally expected Barbara to hand him the battery powered lantern, the barn’s only source of light. Just then, the too-familiar odor of raw gasoline wafted from the straw.

  Barbara tossed him a tiny object. Give me a light. The horrible picture came into focus. Barbara and Dan were setting fire to the barn, leaving Joe and her dad to die in the flames. The man held the lighter to the gasoline-soaked straw, poised to flick the Bic.

  Suddenly, the barn door slammed open. Another man barged in, making no attempt to hide his presence. As he drew near Barbara, the lantern’s dim light illuminated his face. Sally stifled a gasp. She knew this man. What was he doing here?

  “Mother, thank God I got here in time! I’ll take care of these two.”

  Joe’s loud gasp mirrored Sally’s own reaction. Barbara Bloom’s long lost son knew exactly how to get here, dammit, because his fiancée had written down the directions less than an hour earlier. And he’d offered to help.

  Brendan Price aimed a gun at his future brother-in-law’s head. Sally’s spirits nose-dived. He wouldn’t have called police. Ferguson was their only hope now.

  “What do you mean, you’ll take care of them?” Barbara demanded.

  Keeping his gun on Joe, Brendan tugged Barbara close and kissed her cheek. “I’ve taken care of all the people, Mother. Don’t worry. Nobody can expose or hurt you now.”

  Barbara kept her voice calm, but her fingers tightened into whiteness against her pistol. “What, exactly, have you done, Brendan?”

  “I’ve eliminated the obstacles to your plan. Well, except for—” He stopped, frowning. His gaze swept the circle of people assembled at the Darrin.

  Sally didn’t dare breathe. The hammering of her pulse was probably loud enough to give away her presence.

  “Where is she? Where’s Sally?”

  “Sally? She’s not here, son. Now tell me. Did you kill anybody?”

  “Of course. I had to shoot that mechanic so I could get those Polaroids for you. And Vic, of course—”

  “You killed Vic?” Barbara rasped. “Why?”

  “He stood in your way. He had no ambition. That’s what you said.”

  “But, Brendan, I never said to kill him.”

  Funny, coming from a woman about to commit two murders.

  “He found out about the cars, just like Leo. And you said Leo had to die, remember? I helped you.”

  Even in darkness, Sally saw Joe go rigid. “You killed my dad?”

  The rest of the puzzle pieces snapped into place. A dozen yards separated Sally and Joe, but she sensed his rage as he figured out how his father had died. The bogus break-in at Brendan’s clinic to cover up the missing Succinylcholine Chloride. The pieces of a discarded hypodermic. No forced entry.

  Brendan had supplied his mother with the drug to disable Leo. Using Leo’s own gun, Barbara staged his suicide after he was dead. But Sally couldn’t afford to let Leo’s murder preoccupy her thoughts. There was no time to lose. She needed to act now, while Barbara distracted Brendan.

  Forcing her stiff muscles into action, Sally lunged toward Brendan, thumbing the button as she rammed the self-defense device into his neck. He dropped to his knees, immobilized, then collapsed. Sally stumbled, nearly falling over him.

  “No!” Barbara screamed, spinning toward Brendan and Sally. In the harsh light of the lantern, her eyes widened at Brendan’s still body.

  Although restrained, Sally’s father dropped and rolled into Dan, knocking him down. At the same moment, Joe jumped Barbara. Somehow he’d freed himself and rushed Barbara, grabbing for her arm. Her face flushed with rage, Barbara held onto the gun and fired.

  The bullet slammed into Sally’s chest. Scorching heat seared her lungs. Slumping to the floor, she struggled to breathe. A gurgling noise filled her ears, drowning out the distant sounds of a struggle. She coughed, then wished she hadn’t. The pain. The taste of warm blood. More gurgling. She strained to listen as noises from outside penetrated her fog of pain. Sirens cried faintly in the distance, growing louder. Ferguson and troops. Good. Joe and her father would be safe now.

  Closing her eyes, Sally surrendered to the darkness.

  Chapter

  TWENTY-ONE

  With an outer form block, a Tai Kwon Do move he’d all but forgotten, Joe deflected the pistol to the side, but not before Barbara got off a shot. His ears ringing from the blast, he seized her wrist with both hands and pivoted, ramming her straightened arm into his shoulder. With his back to her, he heard the crack of her bone as she let go of the pistol. The entire move took mere seconds, but for Joe time stood still. Sally was down and he had to see about her.

  His shoulder hurt like hell, but nothing like Barbara’s arm, judging from her scream. He considered going for the gun. He wanted to blow her murderous brains out, but she wasn’t worth it. Ignoring her string of curses, he ran to where Sally lay. Motionless.

  Oh, Christ, no!

  “Untie me, dammit!” Justin roared, lying in a clump atop a squirming Dan Alsop.

  “Wait.” Joe held up his hand, his gaze never leaving Sally. He stooped over her, touching her carotid artery. A pulse, thank God. Blood oozed from her mouth and chest. Terror and helplessness swept through him as he pressed his fingers against her wound to staunch the bleeding. “Stay with us, Sally. Please. I love you. Can you hear me? I love you, sweetheart.”

  Special Agent Ferguson burst through the door, followed by Shelby County police, heading for Dan, Barbara, and Brendan. An officer shooed Joe away, and applied a folded bandage against Sally’s wound. Her blood still warm and sticky on Joe’s fingers, he staggered back. He didn’t want to leave her side, but he’d do nothing to impede her speedy treatment. She couldn’t die. She couldn’t! Standing, he swerved, dizziness nearly claiming him.

  “Steady, sir,” the officer said. “You’ve had a shock.”

  Frantic, Justin crawled his way toward them. Joe fought his lightheadedness and rushed to him, then unknotted the ropes that bound his wrists and ankles. Justin stormed through the cluster of people where his daughter lay, ashen and lifeless. He knelt beside her.

  “I’ve radioed for Life Flight,” one of the officers said.

  “It’s a chest wound.” Ferguson cursed. “Where are the paramedics?”

  “Will she—make it?” Justin asked.

  The anguish in Justin Clay’s voice matched the pain in Joe’s heart. His earlier complaints with the man forgotten, Joe gripped his shoulder. Bonded by their love for brave Sally, they waited for the officer’s answer.

  “Depends, sir. But the EMTs are right behind us.”

  Justin Clay lowered his head. His shoulder trembled against Joe’s hand as he wept.

  Two paramedics pushed them all aside, taking over from the officer applying pressure to her wound. Joe’s mind flashed to Sally’s description of pit stops. Focused and organized, the paramedics had her on a stretcher, hooked up to oxygen and two IVs, and loaded onto the helicopter within minutes, precious minutes in the race to save Sally’s life.

  The University of Louisville Hospital on Jackson Street was unfamiliar territory for Joe. In an old section of downtown Louisville, it was a long drive from Anchorage. An even longer drive from Simpsonville. Thank God for Life Flight. The busy emergency room had been unusually quiet.

  “It should’ve been me.”

  Joe flinched at the sound of Justin Clay’s voice. The man hadn’t spoken for hours, not since they began their vigil in the surgery waiting room. “How’s that?”

  “I should’ve taken that bullet. She was supposed to wait outside.”

  Joe rubbed his gritty eyes. He wasn’t up to reassuring the man. As far as he was concerned, Justin was right. Sally shouldn’t be fighting for her life. “We can’t reinvent history, Justin.”

  “I wish I could. I’d rewind nine years.”

  Joe didn’t need this right now. If Justin needed to talk, he should find a priest. But Sally wanted her father�
�s recovery more than anything. She’d want Joe to hear him out.

  “And do what?”

  “Be stronger. I’m a weak man.”

  “Did you know she blames herself for ruining your life?”

  Justin recoiled as if he’d been slapped. “What? She said that?”

  “She believes you’re disgusted by the sight of her leg because it reminds you of how she screwed up your big chance to race in Winston Cup.”

  Justin cursed. “I’m disgusted, all right. Her scars remind me of what a worthless son-of-a-bitch father I am.”

  “That’s not the way she sees it.”

  Justin’s hands trembled as he finger-combed his hair. “I dragged her from track to track, chasing a pipe dream. Hell, I’s already too old. I probably had one year in me, at best. I ruined her life.”

  “Then why the cold shoulder?”

  “I wanted her to hate me. Hell, the harder I pushed her, the nicer she treated me. I don’t know why. I sure didn’t deserve it.”

  “She believed you hated her and she deserved your rejection. God, Justin, couldn’t the two of you have talked during the last nine years? Seems to me you’ve been at cross-purposes.”

  “Amen to that.” Sal Clay plopped down in the seat opposite his brother. “Came as soon as you called. Any news yet?”

  “No.” Justin dropped his gaze. “She’s in surgery.”

  “All we know is the bullet penetrated one of her lungs. There’s internal bleeding.” Joe choked back a sob. “They inserted a chest tube to drain the lung, then rushed her to surgery to repair something they called a massive hemothorax.”

  Sal shook his head. “Damn. What happened out there, anyway?”

  When Justin didn’t answer, Joe filled Sal in on the showdown at the Culpepper farm. Sal spewed a colorful line of profanity. “I bought her the damn stun device for self defense, hopin’ she’d never need it.”

  Justin glared at his brother. “I know. She pulled it on me once.”

  “Chill, guys. There’s plenty of guilt to go around.” Joe shook his head, still reeling from Brendan’s revelations back in the horse barn. “Brendan was going to kill us. Sally saved our lives with that tazer.”

  “Nobody knew nothin’ about Barbara havin’ an illegitimate son. She didn’t know he killed Roy and Vic?” Sal asked.

  “No, she seemed shocked, although she’d enlisted his help in getting the drug to kill Dad.”

  Sal shook his head. “Well, at least now we know your dad didn’t kill himself. Never could figure him for a suicide, anyway.”

  “That’s what most people said.”

  “What about the fire and your grandmother?” Sal asked. “Was that Brendan?”

  Joe shook his head no. “Dan Alsop, or whoever he is. He claims he had nothing to do with the killings, but it was his truck Sally saw speeding away the night of the fire, or at least we think so. She called it a Toyota Tacoma. And it was definitely the truck that I saw trying to run her down on Watterson Trail.”

  Justin broke his sullen silence. “He was ready to kill you and me.”

  And Sally had run to their rescue. Joe swallowed the lump in the back of his throat. “I still can’t believe Barbara would kill to protect their scam. Dad was Vic’s best friend. God, she was greedy.”

  Sal shook his head. “I think it went deeper than greed, Joey. Barbara never got over Leo. Vic once told me he knew he’d been her second choice.”

  “So you think Dad’s murder was a crime of passion?” Another unanswered question to muddy the waters, Joe thought.

  “Who knows for sure? But if Leo messed up her plans all those years ago by marryin’ your mother, then threatened her latest plans with Dan Alsop—” Sal shrugged.

  “And Brendan knew about Dad’s murder, so he was covering her tracks.” Joe sighed. Boy, had his grandmother been a good judge of character. She’d despised Brendan just as she’d loved Sally. From now on, he’d pay close attention to Grandma’s instincts.

  After a short silence, Sal tapped Justin’s knee. “Let’s step outside for a smoke.”

  “No.”

  “We can’t leave, Sal,” Joe added.

  Sal nodded. “I know. Have you told Lucinda?”

  “Yeah. Fia was there when I called. Mom’s concerned about her and the shock of Brendan’s role in this mess. Imagine finding out her fiancé helped kill Dad.”

  An uneasy silence stretched between the three men. A couple came into the waiting room, anxious and fidgeting. Nodding a greeting, they moved to the far corner of the waiting room to sit. Neither spoke, and soon picked up some of the year-old magazines lying about the room. Wonder if they, too, waited for news of someone whose life hang in limbo?

  Finally, Sal spoke. “What about the Kaiser Darrin? What happens to it now?”

  “I’ve had enough of that Darrin to last a lifetime.” Joe gripped the metal arms of the rigid waiting room chair. “Anyway, right now it’s confiscated evidence.”

  But Sal wouldn’t let the subject rest. “When you finally get it back, Sally could restore it for you. Then you could sell it for a decent price.”

  Joe nodded. Sally could do whatever she wanted with the Darrin, just as long as she pulled through surgery and was around to work on it. He’d give her carte blanche.

  “So what’s next for you, Joey? You headed back to Atlanta now that Leo’s murder is solved?”

  Joe glared at Sal. He was really asking about Joe’s intentions toward Sally. Didn’t he know what Joe felt for her? “I can’t plan the rest of my life until I know Sally’s all right.”

  Without her, what was the point?

  Voices funneled through her head. Odors of adhesive and antiseptic wafted through her windpipe. Gentle stroking soothed her hand. She needed to see, to ask, but it was too much effort. Drifting, floating, she retreated.

  The next time Sally awakened, her eyes opened. Fuzzy shapes became people. No one she recognized. A woman leaned over her and smiled. “Miss Clay? Are you awake?”

  Her throat ached. She tried to move her parched lips. She had so many questions. She couldn’t form the words. Searching the woman’s eyes, she tried to make her understand what she needed. Her arms wouldn’t move and her chest throbbed.

  “Honey, you’re in the hospital. Do you remember getting shot?”

  Sally’s blinked furiously. Shot? She needed to know about that. A beeping sound picked up tempo. The woman looked beyond Sally and frowned.

  “Relax. Don’t excite yourself.”

  Joe? Dad? Are they safe? Why couldn’t she form the words?

  “You have family here to see you but we’ll keep their visits short. Do you feel up to visitors?” Sally managed a nod. The woman smiled. “All right.”

  She blinked. A very pregnant woman stood beside Uncle Sal, her dark brown hair the same shade as Sally’s. Her pixie face bore a smile, but it seemed forced.

  “Look who’s here, Sally. Your cousin Maggie.”

  “Hi, Sally. You hurry up and get well before I have this kid.” Maggie patted herself on her swollen abdomen. “And I mean hurry.”

  Sally attempted a smile. Why wouldn’t her muscles obey her? The beeping picked up its pace as her frustration grew. What was that annoying beep, anyway?

  “We’d better go,” Uncle Sal said. “We don’t want to tire you. But we’ll be back.”

  Leaning over as much as her swollen body would allow, Maggie kissed Sally’s cheek. “Love you, sweetie.”

  Sally blinked again. Or had she dozed? Her father had replaced Sal and Maggie. She’d never seen him so disheveled, even on his worst drunken spree. But he wasn’t drunk. And he was alive, thank God.

  “Doctor says you’re drugged and probably won’t remember any of this, but I’m gonna say it anyway. I love you.” He stopped. Tears spilled from his reddened eyes. “I’ve always loved you. I’m sorry you didn’t know that. I’m sorry I failed you.”

  She tried to speak, to soothe his distress. But the only noise from her was a gagg
ing sound. The inside of her mouth was like a Brillo pad.

  He swiped at his cheeks with the back of his hand. “I didn’t tell you this before, but I’ve gone back to the doctor and am getting help so I won’t be a burden to you no more. I’m taking care of the shop for you, too, so don’t worry. Okay, that’s it. I have to go now.”

  Stunned, Sally watched him leave. Without a doubt she was tripping on some kind of medication. And that was quite a dream she’d just had.

  The drugs produced other dreams, like Ellen Kennedy standing over her beside Sally’s father. Aunt Susan and Uncle Sal. One dream stood out in her memory, even after some of her other hallucinations faded. Joe Desalvo held her hand. Thank God he was safe! He said he wanted to spend his life with her. He loved her. That was one hell of a dream.

  And a recurring one. Joe’s handsome face hovered over hers, his eyes bloodshot and droopy. He’d tell her he loved her. His job in Atlanta no longer mattered as long as he and Sally could be together. But why? she wanted to ask. Instead, she’d slide back into the darkness.

  Why did she keep having the Joe dream? She struggled to sort it out in her befuddled mind. All dreams carried a message, right? If Joe wanted marriage, why now? Nothing had changed between them except she’d nearly gotten herself killed. When Sally injured her leg, her dad gave up his dream to be with her. Now she’d been shot and Joe was offering to give up his dream to be with her.

  No way, José. She wouldn’t be an instrument to ruining Joe’s career. She loved him too much to interfere with his big promotion. He’d already sacrificed enough. He deserved the vice-presidency and the right kind of wife. Thoughts of Joe with another woman knifed through her, but she’d get over it. She’d have to. She’d always known she wouldn’t fit in his world.

  In time he’d understand his confused emotions. Quick to assume responsibility, Joe blamed himself for Sally’s wound and mistook it for love. He needed to return to his world, get back to normal.