ONE SMALL VICTORY

by Maryann Miller

  He fired on the swing and Jenny felt the vibration of the bullet hitting the table edge above her head. She quickly returned fire, but panic obliterated what she’d learned and her shot went wide.

  For a fraction of a second, all she saw was the barrel of his gun pointed directly at her, then she caught a flash of movement in the doorway. A man...Steve? She couldn’t be sure. The figure was a blur as he rolled several times before landing on his stomach, a very large gun jerking in his hand.

  Now the other gun was no longer pointed at her.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  The dead man slid down the wall, leaving a wet trail of red on the pristine white paint like a macabre work of Impressionistic art. Steve scanned the rest of the room. Another man lay unmoving on the other side of the doorway. Had they gotten that one in that earlier exchange? And what about Jenny? Where was she? Had they taken her hostage?

  Then he saw her. Under the table. Not moving.

  Oh, my God.

  He quickly checked the rest of the room to make sure all the perps were down or gone, then went to the prone figure. When he saw her eyes, wide with some kind of emotion that seemed deeper than fear, he touched her cheek, “Jenny?”

  She blinked, but didn’t answer, her hands clutched so tightly around the butt of a gun the tendons stood out. What the—?

  He followed the angle the barrel was pointing and dread kicked him in the stomach. She’d shot the other guard? Where the hell had she gotten the gun? Of all the stupid—

  The recrimination died as he realized she was still frozen in place. He placed his large hand over hers. It was like touching ice. “Give me the gun, Jenny.”

  Still she didn’t move.

  “Are you hurt?”

  “Inside.”

  Alarm gripped him. Where? There wasn’t any blood—

  Her fingers relaxed under his, not all at once, but slowly, like ice melting on a hot summer day. After a moment, he took the gun from her.

  “I killed him.” Pain replaced the look of abject terror in her eyes. “I killed him.”

  Momentarily Steve flashed back to his first use of deadly force. The memory was never easy to revisit and damned hard to forget. Linda was sure that difficulty contributed to his poor performance at the range. He was sure she was full of shit.

  He touched Jenny’s arm. “You have to come out of there.”

  “I know.”

  Jenny scooted forward and allowed Steve to help her to stand. A great trembling seized her and she faltered on weak legs. Steve supported her with one arm around her waist. “Do you want to sit down?”

  “I need to get out of here.”

  “Sure.”

  Still holding her steady, Steve started toward the doorway. Jenny took a deep breath to hold back a wave of nausea as they stepped closer to the hall, her eyes riveted on the dead man and the smear of blood on the wall.

  “You okay in there?” The voice was familiar. Burroughs?

  “Yeah.” Steve called out. “Just us good guys left.”

  Jenny didn’t know if he’d injected that note of levity for her benefit or his. But it didn’t work. She wasn’t sure if anything would lift the weight of guilt and release the fists of iron that gripped her mind and her body.

  Rounding the corner she saw Burroughs and two other officers in flack jackets. She recognized Linda, who quickly stepped over, a look of concern creasing her forehead. “You hurt?”

  “No.” Jenny was surprised she could even get that one word out past the constriction in her throat. She had the horrible feeling that if she relaxed, the bile would come pouring out and she’d never stop retching.

  “I think she’s just shaken up,” Steve said. “This being her first fire-fight and all.”

  Again there was a note of levity in his voice, and a small part of Jenny wanted to respond to it. She was sure he was trying to ease the trauma and she should be grateful. What she wanted, however, was numbness. No feelings.

  Linda walked with them as they went outside where the night sky blazed with the red, yellow, and blue lights of county sheriff’s cars, city patrol cars, and emergency vehicles. Linda spoke words that fell on deaf ears as Jenny focused on the flurry of activity in the vast yard. Paramedics tended to the wounded and loaded gurneys into ambulances, which then screamed their way out onto the highway that led to the nearest hospital. Police officers led handcuffed men to patrol cars and pushed them into back seats the way Jenny had seen so many times on television. But in real life the process was much rougher.

  Good. They deserve it. She didn’t even chastise herself for the hateful thought. They deserved much worse.

  Steve stepped back and let Linda steer Jenny around the back of one of the patrol cars. There they came face to face with the Cuban. His look of pure hatred tore through her like a laser and Jenny stopped, unable to move. Unable to look away.

  Linda motioned to Steve to take Jenny’s arm, then broke off to help the sheriff’s deputy put the Cuban in the back of the car. Steve put his other hand at the small of Jenny’s back and pushed her toward his car.

  Gonzales stepped forward and intercepted them. He glanced at Steve, then held Jenny’s gaze for a long moment. “Good job.”

  She stumbled for a response. What does one say at a time like this? Finally, she ducked her head in a semblance of a nod and let the pressure of Steve’s hand move her down to the end of the long driveway.

  Away from the lights and activity, the night took on a pastoral quality as moonlight filtered through a bank of clouds and the wind soughed through a small stand of pines. If she just focused on that, perhaps she could convince herself that none of those horrible things had happened in that house. But it didn’t work. Her heart sat like a stone in her chest as she slid into Steve’s car and fastened the seatbelt.

  He pulled out onto the gray ribbon of highway and Jenny concentrated on the hum of the tires, wishing for an emotional void. Don’t think. Don’t remember. But she couldn’t stop her mind from playing that moment over and over again like an endless loop of film.

  And what was she supposed to say to Scott when she got home? “Hi. It’s Mom. I just shot somebody.”

  Steve gave her a quick glance. “You going to be okay?”

  She wanted to laugh. “I don’t even know what okay is anymore.”

  “It’ll come.”

  Yeah. Right.

  He reached over and touched her hand and she started to pull away.

  “Don’t,” he said.

  So she didn’t. He curled his fingers around hers and cradled them in warmth. She looked out the side window so he wouldn’t see her cry.

  They rode the rest of the way in silence. A silence that was neither comforting nor discomforting. Just was.

  Then Steve pulled to a stop next to her car. She slipped her hand out of his and grabbed the door handle. Steve looked over at her. “Want me to come with you?”

  She considered for a moment, then shook her head and opened her door. His voice stopped her from stepping out. “You know you had to do it.”

  She sighed without looking at him. “Yeah. I know.”

  “Do you?”

  She didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer.

  Steve reached over and touched her shoulder. “Please let me help you.”

  She turned, tears ravaging her face. He started to pull her close and she held him off with a hand to his chest. “No, Steve. Not now.”

  “When? When can I help you?”

  She looked at his face, almost as ravaged as hers. What would it hurt to just lean into his offer and let whatever happens happen? But that impulse was so clichéd. So...revolting at this moment.

  “I need to get home, Steve. Scott is waiting. Worrying. I need to go home.”

  “Sure.” He released her and wiped a hand across his chin. “We’ll give you some time. A few days. Then we need to debrief.”

  “Okay. Just let me know when.”

  He nodded and she slid out of his car and walke
d over to hers. He stayed until she buckled herself in before flicking his lights once and pulling out.

  If not for Scott waiting at home, Jenny would have considered just staying there for however long it took for the fog to leave her mind and the weight to leave her heart. But she couldn’t leave him hanging and anxious.

  She put the key in the ignition and brought the engine to life. She drove home slowly, using every mental trick she could think of to banish the horrid events from her mind lest Scott look into her eyes and see the images.

  As soon as Jenny pulled into the driveway Scott ran down the front walk, a blur of motion in the shadows. Did he sit out on the porch the whole time?

  He was at the car in a flash. “Mom? God... I was so worried.”

  She got out and slammed her door closed. “It’s okay. I’m here now.”

  Before she could take a step, he grabbed her into an embrace so intense it was like he would never let her go again.

  “What happened?” He took a step back and faced her. “Tell me everything.”

  “Can we go in first?”

  “Sure.”

  Inside, Jenny tried to focus on all the things that were normal. Her muddy gardening shoes by the back door. A sale flyer from Brookshire’s on the kitchen table. Crumbs on the counter. Hadn’t she wiped it after making dinner earlier?

  God. That seemed like a lifetime ago. She couldn’t even remember what she’d made. How could she have forgotten something so simple and not be able to forget what she wanted to?

  “Want some tea?”

  Scott’s question pulled her out of the confusion. She faced him. “You’re going to make tea?”

  “I’m capable, you know.”

  She wanted to say something funny back. Then maybe they could both laugh and dispel this terrible tension, but a sudden weakness hit her knees. If she didn’t sit down, she was going to fall. She pulled a chair away from the table. “Tea would be good.”

  He put the kettle on the stove and pulled two mugs out of a cabinet. Then he stood for a moment, as if lost. “Uh, where are the tea bags?”

  Again, she wished she had enough strength to laugh. She pointed to the squared-off metal containers on the counter. “In the canister marked ‘tea’.”

  While Scott putzed at the stove, Jenny sifted through the details of the past few hours, deciding which ones to share with him. There was no question about what she wasn’t going to talk about. She waited until he brought the mugs of steaming tea over and sat down. “So,” he said. “Was it like TV?”

  If only. On TV people don’t really die.

  Jenny ignored his question and took a sip of the amber liquid, letting the warmth slide down her throat and melt that cold spot deep inside.

  “Come on, Mom. You promised.”

  “Okay.” She set her cup down.“But what I’m going say has to stay here.”

  “I can’t tell Caitlin?”

  She shook her head. “We can’t risk it. If anyone connects me to what happened tonight, it could be dangerous for anyone associated with us.”

  “You said it would be over.” He slumped back in his chair. “How could you lie to me?”

  “I didn’t lie, Scott,” Jenny reached across to touch his arm, but he jerked it away. “My work with the police is over. It ended tonight.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest, then gave her a quick glance. “What exactly did you do?”

  And so she told him, from beginning to end, only omitting the facts about George, the guns, and that unspeakable action she’d taken tonight. She noticed that as she talked, he relaxed and leaned his elbows on the table.

  When she finished, he looked at her for a long moment, then said. “That is like, totally sweet.”

  “I take it that’s good?”

  “Well, cha.”

  Jenny took another swallow of tea, which was now tepid. Scott fiddled with a spoon, turning it over and over. “One thing I don’t understand,” he said. “If you got the bad guys, what’s the danger?”

  “These local drug rings are connected. Clear back to cartels in other countries.” She paused to make sure she chose words that wouldn’t alarm him. “They don’t take kindly to having their business disrupted.”

  Scott’s eyes widened. “You mean they could come after us?”

  “Only if they know who us is.” Jenny leaned forward. “Which is why you can’t talk about it. Everyone who knows has the potential to pass the information to the wrong person.”

  “Does Dad know?”

  Jenny nodded. “He threatened to take you away.”

  “On the trip?”

  “I mean forever.”

  Scott shook his head, then stood abruptly. “I need cookies.”

  He went to a cabinet and pulled out a package of Oreo’s. “Now I need milk.”

  Jenny watched him get a glass, then juggle the milk carton, the cookie bag, and the glass to the table. It was so reminiscent of a ten-year-old Scott turning to food when emotions got high, she smiled.

  “Want one?” He pushed the package toward her and she took a cookie out. He twisted his open and licked the frosting. Again she was transported back to another time when Michael and Scott had held contests to see who could separate the cookie pieces the fastest without smearing the white stuff. Now they’re doing commercials about that.

  Scott ate three more cookies, downed a glass of milk, then leaned back and looked at her. “My mom, the drug buster. It’s so...”

  “What? Hard to believe?”

  He shrugged and she leaned over to touch his arm. “That’s okay. There were plenty of times I wasn’t believing it myself.”

  He laughed at that, the sound so ordinary that the heaviness in her chest shifted.

  “Are you going to do it again?”

  “God, no.”

  “That’s good.” He closed the bag of cookies with a series of intricate folds. “I’d like to have my regular mom back.”

  Jenny’s impulse was to hug him. Touch him. Say something that would mark this moment, but she sensed he didn’t want that.

  He stood. “Better put these up.”

  “Yeah. We should both get to bed.” Jenny rose, grabbed the cups, and took them to the sink.

  When he brought his glass over, he stood close enough that their arms touched. She leaned into him for a moment and he didn’t move away. It wasn’t an embrace, but it was good enough.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Saturday was a blur. Jenny tried some of the normal things; starting with going in to the shop for a few hours, but she couldn’t concentrate on the anniversary bouquet she was trying to arrange. After she’d cut three roses too short and had to scrap them, Mitchell suggested he finish before she destroyed the entire inventory.

  “Thanks. I don’t know what’s wrong with me today.”

  He gave her a look that suggested he didn’t believe her, and she longed to tell him the truth. But she couldn’t. She knew that. Ditto for her mother. She’d downplayed the issue last night with Scott, but the danger was real. If she was ever connected to the raid out at the ranch... She shuddered, not able to complete the thought.

  She watched Mitchell finish off the arrangement with sprigs of baby’s breath and fronds of ferns. The pink miniature roses nestled against the greenery like children leaning into the strength of a mother. “It’s lovely,” she said.

  He smiled. “Thanks. Now why don’t you go home and let me finish up here?”

  She thought about arguing. Even thought about trying to make a joke of it. Was he trying to take over the store? But she was too tired for either. Making a silent promise that she would give him the biggest raise she could afford in January, she grabbed her purse and jacket and left.

  The house was empty when she got home and she had a moment of panic before she remembered Scott had gone to soccer practice. It’s over now. Stop imagining the worst.

  She spent a few minutes putting away the groceries she’d stopped for and realized if she didn�
��t find a bed soon, she’d collapse. She could sleep for an hour or so and still have time to fix a decent dinner.

  ~*~

  “Mom?”

  Jenny pulled out of the depths of sleep and saw Scott standing in the doorway of her bedroom. The light from the hall slanted through the opening; otherwise it was dark as pitch in her room. “What time is it?”