Last Breath

by Brandilyn Collins

  “If that’s the way you want it.” Bart shrieked a whistle. Immediately his two roommates stomped out their door, their figures barely visible in the dark. Bart gestured toward them. “You got somethin’ else to say to us?”

  I pressed my hand into the seat. The coward. Couldn’t even take on Gary alone. He’d be squashed like a bug, and he knew it.

  Bart’s friends stalked across the lawn.

  Gary held his ground. “You got what you wanted. Now get off my property.”

  “I didn’t get what I wanted. I expected cash. You brought me the bag.”

  “What’d you think I’d do, stay there and get shot?”

  A curtain edged back from Gary’s front window. Grandma Donovon peeked out. Gary’s head jerked toward her. She dropped the curtain and disappeared.

  Bart’s two grunt friends planted themselves a foot from Gary, one on each side. Both of them folded their arms and glared, daring him to keep it up.

  “What I know”—Bart shoved his face into Gary’s—“is that you’ll do this job tonight, like I tell you to.”

  “No!” Gary slashed an arm through the air. “I’m not doing this anymore for you.”

  “You don’t have a choice!”

  “I just made one!”

  Bart held his position, breathing like a bull. Slowly, his body relaxed. He eased back, gave a lazy shrug. “Tony.” He raised his chin toward one of his friends. “Go get the old woman.”

  Tony swiveled toward the house.

  “Stop!” Gary jumped him.

  They crashed to the ground, fists and curses flying. Bart jumped back as the second guy dove on top of Gary.

  “No!” I scrambled out of the truck. My heels hit a bump in the grass, and I went sprawling. I landed hard, the wind knocked out of me. All I could hear was the sound of punches and grunts.

  Gary.

  I flipped over and pushed myself to my feet. Tony and the other guy had Gary down, kicking and beating with all their might. I tottered over, screaming. Caught one by the arm and yanked. He threw me backward like I weighed nothing. I hit the ground on my side.

  “Ungh.” Air forced out my lungs. My teeth clattered together.

  Behind me the smacks grew louder. They were going to kill Gary.

  No. No. I managed to get up again, shaking and bruised. My legs turned to water. Vaguely I registered Bart pulling Grandma Donovon out of the house. White-faced, she pleaded for them to stop.

  Bart raised a hand. “Hold it.”

  Tony and the other guy backed off, chests heaving.

  “Gary!” I flailed over to him and dropped to the grass, sobbing. “Garyyyyy.” Blood covered his face, oozing from his nose and mouth. He barely moved.

  Bart sauntered over like he was waiting for a bus. He sneered down at Gary and sniffed.

  “I’m going to be extra nice and give you some time to think about your attitude.” He motioned to his two friends. “Let’s go.”

  As they walked away, Bart threw final words over his shoulder. “We’ll be back.”

  Part 11

  Monday 2009

  30

  Franklin’s plane took off from Phoenix on time.

  He sat in an aisle seat near the back, his long legs cramped, and his brain crackling with anticipation. He’d waited for this chance for so long. But too many things could go wrong.

  Stupid Jerry. Couldn’t do a job right. Franklin should have known better than to trust the man.

  At Franklin’s gate at the airport, a TV mounted from the ceiling had been turned to CNN. Four times as he waited he’d seen footage of Rayne’s accident and Shaley leaping from her limo, screaming.

  Shaley. His daughter. He knew that, even though Rayne had never told him she was pregnant. The last time he saw her, she couldn’t have known yet, he’d bet on that. August 30, 1992. A day he would never forget.

  Franklin wondered how far the hospital was from the Denver airport.

  He closed his eyes, chin lowered toward his chest. He needed a thorough plan, but it wouldn’t come. He needed to get there first, see the layout and the odds against him.

  Sometimes you needed to case the situation before deciding what to do.

  Sloppiness is what got him caught for the armed robbery. He’d held up a convenience store at night, never thinking about the security cameras. Dumb, dumb.

  The stewardess came around, taking drink orders and offering a bag of peanuts. Franklin crunched his snack, barely tasting it. His thoughts whirled, imagining scenarios. If he did this thing wrong, his life could end today. Just like Jerry’s.

  Franklin tipped up the bag of peanuts and shook the last ones into his mouth. He wadded the crackly container in his palm.

  No. Failure was not an option. He would reach his goal. By the end of this day, he would find a way into the hospital room of Rayne O’Connor.

  31

  We’ll be back …”

  Mom’s voice faded, and her eyelids fluttered. In my head pulsed the bloody picture of Gary on the ground, beaten and near senseless. I held Mom’s hand, tears running down my face. I couldn’t begin to imagine what she had gone through. To watch someone you love being hurt like that. To not be able to do anything about it.

  How had that Gary become a criminal?

  “I’m sorry,” Mom whispered. “All of a sudden I’m so tired.” She swallowed.

  “It’s probably the medication.” Half an hour ago a nurse had been in to bring her two more pills.

  I picked up Mom’s water glass and held the straw to her lips. She took a long drink.

  With a sad smile, I set the glass down. “You want to sleep for awhile?”

  Her mouth twisted. “Yeah. But I know you want to hear the end. I’ll finish, then rest.”

  Our eyes locked, and I knew she meant more than simply take a nap. After seventeen years, telling the story she’d bottled up for so long had drained her. She wanted to be done with it. I had the fleeting thought that once she finished, she’d never want to mention my father’s name again.

  And why would I want to hear it? Now I just wanted him sent back to prison. Maybe he and Cat would end up in the same cell. Wouldn’t they have a great time.

  My eyes filled with fresh tears.

  “What is it, Shaley?”

  “Nothing.” I blinked hard. “Just … tell me the rest. I have to know.”

  Mom put her hand on my knee. “Like I said, people can change a lot in seventeen years.”

  But how? What happened then that made my father go bad?

  “Did Bart and his friends come back?” I asked.

  The pained look returned to Mom’s eyes. She rubbed the bump on her head. “It was way more than just ‘coming back’ … ”

  Part 12

  Rayne 1992

  32

  Gary.” I leaned over him, my tears falling on his bloodied shirt. “Can you hear me?”

  Grandma Donovon sank to her knees on his other side. She slipped a hand beneath his head and cradled it. “Gary.” Even though she was crying too, her voice was amazingly calm. “You need to get up. We’ve got to get you out of here.”

  Rage exploded within me. I wanted to run after Bart and tear his eyes out. “Shouldn’t we call the cops?” I demanded. Who cared about Bart’s threats? I’d have stepped in front of a train at that moment if it meant seeing Bart and his lowlife friends behind bars.

  Grandma Donovon gave me a hard look. “You see my grandson? This is what happens when you stand up to these people.”

  Gary groaned. “Rayne?” His eyes were still closed, his voice breathy.

  My heart leapt. “I’m here.”

  “Help me up.”

  I threw a terrified look at Grandma Donovon. She couldn’t really mean he should move. What if he had broken bones? What if moving him injured him more?

  She nodded. “It’s our only choice. Or they’ll kill him.”

  That’s the first time in my life I remember sincerely praying for God’s help. I begged him to let
the two of us get Gary out of there. Then slowly, carefully, we supported Gary as he sat up and struggled to his feet. He was badly bruised and sore, but nothing seemed broken. We got him in the passenger seat of the truck. I climbed into the driver’s seat and scooted to the middle. Grandma Donovon drove.

  I gave her directions to my house.

  When we pulled into the driveway my mom was still gone. She’d made plans to go out with friends that night. Grandma Donovon and I eased Gary out of the truck and up our front porch. I unlocked the door, and we walked him inside and to the couch.

  “I need clean cloths and warm water.” Grandma Donovon rolled up the sleeves of her casual shirt.

  When I brought the large pan of water and washcloths, she began cleaning off the blood. Then she probed his face, neck, ribs, and arms with efficient, gentle fingers. I gave her a questioning look.

  “Used to be a nurse.” She sat back on her haunches, gazing at Gary with glistening eyes. “Before my heart condition made me have to quit.”

  “I’m sorry.” Gary moved his head and winced. “Grandma, I don’t … I should have just done what they said.”

  “And go to jail for their crimes?”

  Gary’s eyes opened. He looked at her in dull surprise.

  She snorted. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’ve been doing. Thinking you were protecting me. But it’s not going to happen again. No more.”

  Gary’s eyes slipped shut. “We can’t go back home.”

  The phone rang. I ignored it.

  “That’s not your fault.” Grandma Donovon wiped her brow. The edges of her rolled-up sleeves were wet.

  In the kitchen the phone kept ringing. I made a face at it. After six rings it cut off, sat silent a few seconds, then started ringing again.

  “We’ll have to move.” Gary swallowed. “I have to get our stuff out of there somehow …”

  Three rings.

  A startling thought rattled through my brain.

  Four.

  Tingles started up my spine. In a half daze I walked to the kitchen’s door and stared at the phone, as if it would tell me who was calling. But somehow I knew.

  My head whipped back toward Gary and his grandmother. She was leaning down close to him, talking.

  Our answering machine kicked on. I listened to my mother’s voice invite the caller to leave a message. My body tensed.

  “We let you leave, you know.” The hated voice came through the recorder. Low, menacing. Grandma Donovon cut off mid-sentence. Gary’s hand jerked.

  “I got to go out tonight and take care of some business, Gary. Come see me tomorrow.”

  Click. The answering machine fell silent.

  Grandma Donovon, Gary, and I looked at each other.

  My mind is vague about the rest of that evening. I felt too wrung out to listen with a clear head as Gary and his grandmother talked. What could they do? Going to the police—if they connected with one that wasn’t on the take with Bart—would mean waiting for weeks or even months to testify against Westrock. By that time they’d be dead. Going home meant putting themselves under Bart’s thumb again. It would only be a matter of time before Gary took the fall for one of their drug runs.

  One unspoken answer hung in the air. The more they talked, the heavier it hovered over our heads and weighed our shoulders.

  Around midnight Mom came home. We told her everything—we had no choice. Mom stared at Gary, appalled, then ran around fixing him food, doing anything she could to make him comfortable. But a moment came when she edged me aside and gave me a look that seared my heart. An accusing expression that said this has been going on with Gary for months, and you’ve said nothing? Don’t you see the danger you’ve put us in?

  Gary, by now sitting up on the couch, saw the unspoken exchange. The horrible knowledge of what he must do flattened his face.

  He couldn’t be with me anymore.

  No. My stomach flipped over. There would be another way—The phone rang. It was Bart.

  “Look forward to seeing you tomorrow, Gary.”

  Click.

  Mom’s eyes lasered mine. There wasn’t a single thing I could say in response.

  We all needed sleep. Grandma Donovon was given our spare bedroom. Gary would stay on the couch. I drifted into my room, numb and sick to the core. Somehow I drifted off.

  Until a pounding rattled my door at four o’clock in the morning.

  33

  I jolted awake, heart banging. Before I knew it I’d jumped from bed and thrown back the door.

  Gary swayed on his feet in the hall.

  I gasped.

  He jammed his forearm against the wall and leaned into it. His mouth hung open, air stuttering down his throat and a wild glaze in his eyes. “Rayne.” His mouth quivered.

  My legs started to shake. Never had I seen Gary cry. “What?”

  His eyes closed. “The house. It’s burned down.”

  “What? What house?”

  “My … grandma’s house. They burned it.”

  I stared at him. Had he gone out of his mind?

  Gary dragged his eyes open. He wouldn’t look at me. “I drove over there … Wanted to sneak in … get a few things. It’s gone, Rayne. Everything’s gone.”

  Footsteps sounded from the guestroom. Grandma Donovon appeared in her doorway, still in her clothes. “What’s going on?”

  Another door clicked. Mom scurried into the hall, a frightened look on her face.

  “Grandma.” Gary pushed up straight. His face twisted with sick determination. “Get in the truck. We’re leaving.”

  “What? We—”

  “Get. In. The truck.” He turned to her, bruised hands on his hips. “We have to go. We have to get out of town. Now.”

  “Why? ”

  “Our house is burned to the ground. We’ve got nothing left but our lives. And I’m not letting them take yours.”

  Grandma Donovon’s eyes rounded. “My house is gone?”

  Gary nodded.

  “Ohhh!” She swooned. Mom ran to her.

  Gary looked back to me. “Rayne—” His voice pinched off. He held up a hand, struggling to speak. “If Bart ever calls you again, tell him exactly this: ‘After you burned down Gary’s house, he and his grandmother left the state. He’s never coming back. And nobody’s going to the police.’ You tell him that, and he’ll leave you alone.”

  “Gary, no!” I reached for him, my whole world dropping away. “You can’t go!”

  He stepped back and held up both hands, palms out, as if to protect himself from me. But his eyes told the truth. If he faltered now, if he hesitated one little bit, he’d lose his resolve—and stay.

  And the four of us would never be safe.

  “Grandma.” His gaze held mine. I thought I would die. “Get in the truck.”

  She threw a shocked look at me and started down the hall.

  “Gary—” I wanted to scream that he’d change his mind in a day or two. He’d come back. Somehow, some way, we’d work this out …

  But my heart caught in my throat, and my knees turned to water.

  “Rayne.” His voice caught. “I love you.”

  He turned away and walked down the hall.

  A cry wrenched from me. Gary’s back stiffened. For a second he slowed. Then he pushed himself forward once more.

  I gripped the doorway, deep sobs punching out of my mouth. This couldn’t be happening. None of it was real.

  Gary disappeared around the corner.

  My legs gave way. I sank to my knees on the carpet.

  The front door opened and closed.

  Only then did I realize the sound I heard from our driveway. The engine of his truck, already running.

  No!

  Sudden energy surged through me. I shoved to my feet and pounded down the hall. Mom yelled at me to stop, but I paid no attention. I careened around the corner, flung myself through the front door and out on the porch.

  “Garyyyy!”

  He’d just finish
ed backing out of the driveway. The truck surged forward.

  My last view of Gary Donovon was through the driver’s window. I glimpsed his steel profile, every finger clenched around the wheel as though any minute his brittle body would break.

  Then he was gone.

  Part 13

  Monday 2009

  34

  I stared at Mom in shock. Her face twisted in pain—more from the memories, I thought, than from her injuries.

  “That’s it?” I leaned toward her. “He just … disappeared—like that?”

  She nodded then turned her head toward the window. The trail of a tear glistened on her temple.

  “Did he ever call you?”

  “No.”

  “What about Bart? Did he call you, demanding to know where Gary went?”

  “Yeah, for months. But I truly didn’t know. Gary proved right about that. As long as Bart could sense I wasn’t lying, there was no point in coming after me.”

  I sat back, rubbing my forehead. “But it’s still so hard to believe. How could Gary just leave you like that?”

  “He wanted to protect me, Shaley.”

  Yeah, or maybe he started robbing stores right away. “He could have called. He could have at least told you where he’d gone.”

  Mom shifted her focus back to me. She looked so very tired. “I kept thinking he would. Day after day I kept believing he’d show up on my doorstep one night. But … nothing.”

  “He loved you. How could he leave?”

  “I think he loved me enough to leave. And he had to protect his grandmother. Those gang members—they never would have left the three of us alone if he’d stayed in the area. He had to get far away, far enough that they’d know he wouldn’t be a threat to them.”

  “But why didn’t he call?”

  She shook her head. “I think he … couldn’t. If he called, if he heard my voice, it might be too much for him to take, and he’d come back.”

  “That doesn’t make sense.”

  “It’s the only sense I can make of it. I know he loved me. I know he didn’t want to go. Besides, there were the roses. The first came a week after he’d left. Then, like clockwork, they arrived twice a month. Always with the same message as before: You are a white rose to me. I love you. Gary.”