Lacy's End

by Victoria Schwimley

  She whirled. “Oh, Jake!”

  He smiled. She fell against him. He stroked her hair.

  She pulled away after a moment. “You’re always here when I need you, Jake.”

  He smiled again. “That’s what I’m here for.”

  The kettle whistled. They both looked at it.

  “Looks like tea time,” Jake said.

  She poured the water over her used tea bag. “We must use the bag twice,” she said in her father’s voice. “No room in this house for waste.” Then she pursed her lips in a considerate pose and threw the tea bag away with a flair. She got a fresh one. “For once I’m going to splurge.”

  Jake applauded.

  “Do you know what hurts the most, Jake?”

  He shook his head.

  “In my mind’s eye, I have a fairytale dad. He tucks me in and kisses me goodnight. He takes care of knees skinned while learning to ride a bike. He gives the third degree when a handsome young man starts calling but grins behind the gruff façade.” She drew silent…and then, “My dad swore to serve and protect. I thought that would extend to me.”

  He held her again, and although the embrace felt hollow and cold, she took comfort all the same.

  She pulled away but stayed encircled within his arms. “When I was a small child, I would draw my family the way I wanted them to be. Then I would hang the picture on my wall, close my eyes, and say, ‘If I could have one wish.’ But it never worked. Do you know who disappointed me the most?” Jake shook his head. “My teachers.”

  “Oh?”

  “I know they all saw the pain, but they pretended they didn’t. All except Mrs. Horton, who tried to help but was prevented from intervening. Even my own pastor turned the other cheek.” She laughed at the biblical cliché. “Well, you know what, Jake? I’m tired of being a victim. I'm sick of his bullying. I've had enough of kicks, punches, hair pulling, and name calling…” She raged in pain, panting with exertion, her face red with anger. She lowered her voice to almost a whisper. “And I’m tired of being beaten to the point of unconsciousness.” She raised her voice again. “It ends now, Jake. Here and now.”

  His voice was quiet and soothing when he answered her, “Is that why you asked Chase to get you a gun?”

  She didn’t know why she had asked Chase for a gun. She only knew that when he had shown her the cabinet where it was kept, and showed her where to find the key, and placed the cold steel in her hands—it had felt good. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, defiantly.

  “Lacy…” Jake said. “Honey…I know you.” He touched her cheek. She closed her eyes. “I feel what you feel.”

  Her mother came into the kitchen, startling her. “Honey, are you okay?”

  She wiped the tears from her cheeks. “I'm all right.”

  Brenda came to her, put her arms around her. “Why are you crying?”

  “I just am,” Lacy said sharply.

  “Who were you talking to?”

  “Nobody, just myself.”

  “Honey, let me help,” Brenda said.

  She stared at her mother, incredulous. Now she wanted to help! The words were at the tip of her tongue, wanting desperately to spill from her mouth. Her lips were forming the words when another loud crack invaded the sky. Both of their heads swung toward the window, and they stared in wonder and fear.

  “That was a rifle,” Brenda whispered.

  Lacy nodded. “He’s out there, Mom.”

  “I’m afraid so,” Brenda agreed. She grabbed Lacy by the shoulders and locked eyes with her. “Listen to me. He’s not going to get us. There are a lot of people in here, and they won’t let it happen. Allen won’t let it happen.”

  “Where is Allen? They’ve been in that barn for a long time now.”

  “They’re okay,” Brenda said, lacking conviction in her voice.

  Pammy burst through the door. “Did you guys hear that?” They nodded. “I’m going to get Ethan.” She fled the room and mounted the stairs two at a time. She rushed into his room, expecting to find him huddled in a corner as he always did during a storm. “Ethan,” she called. “Ethan, don’t hide from Mommy.” She looked under the bed, and in the closet, but he was nowhere in the room.

  She ran down the stairs. Lacy and Brenda had joined Alice in the den and were now sitting beside her. “I can’t find Ethan.”

  “Mom,” Lacy said, turning to face Brenda.

  Brenda shook her head. “He wouldn’t, honey.”

  Brenda turned toward the other women. They were staring at her accusatorily as if she had invited her lunatic husband as a guest. “No! He wouldn’t hurt a child,” she said.

  Lacy’s voice was so quiet and croaked they could hardly make out what she said, “I was a child.”

  Brenda closed her eyes against the words. She’d been a coward through all the years of abuse and had put blinders on—made excuses for her cowardly lack of action. She had allowed her husband to abuse their daughter because she was afraid of what he might do if she took her away from him. “Oh, God, Lacy, I’m so sorry.”

  Pammy grabbed Brenda by the shoulders and spun her to face her. “Help me find my son!”

  Brenda nodded, gathered her senses, and shook off the gloom. “Of course.”

  “Two upstairs and two downstairs,” Alice said.

  Brenda stood up. “Lacy and I will go upstairs.” She looked at Lacy, who nodded.

  They began the search, calling Ethan’s name along the way. Lacy wandered toward Brett’s office. She stood in front of the desk drawer and slowly opened it. The key was staring up at her, daring her. She touched it, slid her fingers around it, lifted it. She looked at the cabinet, indecision tearing at her. She crossed to it, put the key in the lock and turned it. It made a loud clicking sound and popped open. Lacy could swear the entire neighborhood could hear it. But no one came running. No one stopped her from lifting the gun from its resting place.

  “Are you sure this is what you want to do?” Jake asked from behind her.

  Lacy closed her eyes and pressed the cold, hard muzzle of the gun against her cheek. “I thought you couldn’t interfere,” she said without turning around.

  “I’m not,” he said, “Just questioning.”

  She turned to face him. In the distance, she could hear the shouts of Ethan’s name. “He’s just a little boy.”

  “And you were just a little girl.”

  She put her hands over her ears. “Shut up. I’m tired of thinking about it.”

  “Do you even know how to use it?”

  She nodded. “Chase showed me.”

  She put the gun in her waistband and pulled her sweatshirt down to cover it. Then she grabbed a box of ammunition and stuffed the contents into her jeans pockets. She moved toward the door. “Come, or stay. I don’t care either way.”

  She ran down the stairs and flung open the front door.

  “You’ll freeze without a jacket.”

  She stopped, turned, and sighed. “I didn’t mean what I said, Jake. Please come with me.” He nodded his head toward the coat rack. She reached up and grabbed her jacket. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Peter took aim at the back door. Decades as a law enforcement officer had prepared him for the fact that they would try leaving by the back door.

  He was angry and out for revenge—even more angered by the fact that the look-alike brother had duped him.

  He had been following his family ever since they left home and boarded that plane in Las Vegas. It hadn’t been easy keeping up with them, but once they had boarded their flight and he saw their destination, he was able to get another flight going to the same location. Finding them once they had arrived in this god-forsaken city had been easy. The ranch was huge, well-known, and easy to find. Just the mention of the name Petoro had sent him in the right direction.

  He had been hiding out in an old shack since he had arrived early on Thanksgiving morning. The dropping temperatures had forced him to mo
ve into the barn with the animals. That had humiliated him, and his anger surged.

  He had heard the raucous holiday celebration and longed for his traditional holiday meal that his wife and daughter would prepare for him while he relaxed in front of the television watching the football game. They owed him that much. But, oh no, now they were shacking up like harlots with that wife-stealing doctor.

  Then, to rub salt into his wounds, his daughter had to go parading around town as the town whore with that low-life hoodlum with all the chains and tattoos. What was she thinking? Plainly, without his influence in her life, she hadn’t known how to behave like a lady.

  Well, it didn’t matter. By the end of the weekend, that doctor would be out of the picture, and his family would be back where it should be, and he would set them both straight about their wayward behavior.

  Peter knew there was little time left to claim his property. If he allowed the doctor to get on the plane with his family, it would be too late. If he was going to take him out, it was going to have to be here, away from his turf and the prying, interfering eyes of that wretched social worker. He would have to settle up with her when he got back.

  Charlie had overstepped his boundaries and had shaken up his team. Some of his boys were starting to question his right to discipline his family, and that had to stop. He’d get rid of anyone who had strayed from loyalty to him.

  Then there was the problem of the Attorney General’s Office. Getting Charlie transferred might have been a huge mistake. He’d gone running to the state guys like a baby. Then they’d wanted Peter to explain why he requested they transfer Charlie. He told them it was because Charlie wasn’t a team player, but Charlie’s transfer wasn’t going to protect him. They were still investigating him. That was okay. He had ways of dealing with that interfering investigator from the Attorney General’s office. Then maybe he’d take a trip up to Vegas and have a little chat with his old second-in-command.

  He’d decided tonight would be the right time to reclaim his property. It was getting colder. He shivered. Snow was on the way. He could feel it in his bones.

  Then, to his surprise, before he could put his plan into action, the doctor had come to him—walked right into the barn and was there for the taking. He had taken aim and was ready to pull the trigger when that damned farm man had interfered and struck him in the head from behind. Dazed and confused, Peter had picked up the rifle and shot him. He thought he’d killed him, but as though the gods were working against him, he saw him stagger into the barn a little while ago. But he was too far away to take another shot at him.

  He hadn't noticed he had the wrong brother until the man lay on the ground. From a distance, he had looked like the doctor, but up close he could tell the difference right away. He laughed as he remembered how scared the little shit had been, cowering in the hay at the sight of the hired hand bleeding like a sieve.

  Not wanting to risk another gunshot that might give away his location, he had dragged both the hired hand and the doc’s brother out of the barn. He left the worker in the bushes for the animals to dine on and took the brother to the cabin with him. He wondered how long it would take a man who was bound and gagged to freeze to death. When he got home, he would look it up so he would know when to send the condolence card. Of course, he knew he couldn’t do that. He would have to kill them all. He couldn’t leave any witnesses.

  The door opened slowly, just a crack at first, and Peter allowed himself a little chuckle. His hunch had been correct. The wife-banging doctor appeared in the doorway and Peter fired.

  As dark as it was, the shot landed just a few inches above his head, enough to scare the man back inside. “Goddamn it,” Peter cursed. “Yellow-liver chicken shit,” he shouted.

  He knew he had blown his chance. Now they were trapped in the barn. Would they try another way out? He was only one man. He couldn’t watch both the exits at once. He remembered seeing a barrel near the front of the barn. He knew they wouldn’t try the rear door again—at least for a while. He left his guard post to go around to the front of the barn and dragged the barrel in front of the door, blocking the exit.

  That’s when he spotted the boy standing on the front porch. He had the strangest look on his face, and when he looked at Peter, he smiled and waved. Peter waved back, earning the boy’s trust. He motioned the boy over. For a moment, the boy just stood there like he was trying to decide if talking to this stranger was something his mother had warned him not to do. Then, in a flash, the boy was off the porch and running toward him, jumping and splashing in the puddles the rain had left behind.

  Peter smiled at the boy. “Hello, what are you doing out here?”

  “My uncle Brad is playing hide and seek in the rain. I want to play, too.”

  “I know where Uncle Brad is. Shall I help you find him?”

  “Oh, yes. Then I’ll be the winner of the game.”

  Peter liked the boy instantly. He took him by the hand. Perhaps he wouldn’t kill this one. He could be the son Brenda refused to give him. Maybe he’d kill Lacy instead.

  Lacy ran out onto the porch and looked around, wondering which way to go. The sky was dark, but from the glow of the moon, she could make out a small form disappearing into the forest. “Ethan,” she yelled, but the boy didn’t hear her. The man did, though, and when he turned around, she swore he was laughing at her—even though the distance was far too great for her to see his face. She knew it was her father by the way he stood. She had seen that stance at least a million times as it had loomed over her, ready to strike.

  She ran toward them. As she did, the man grabbed the boy’s hand and began to run. She moved faster, but he had a head start on her. She couldn’t close the gap between them, no matter how fast she ran. “Stop,” she yelled.

  She ran faster, but she was growing winded. Then she tripped over something and collapsed on top of a log. Gasping for breath, she began to cry. A squirrel chattered beside her and then scampered off. She followed it with her eyes. As her eyes traced the path the squirrel had made, she realized they’d been following a trail. She smiled. “I got you, Dad.”

  “Where are we going,” Ethan asked. “I’m getting tired.”

  “To see Uncle Brad,” Peter said. “He’s at the playhouse. I saw him go in there to hide.”

  Ethan grinned. “He’s going to be so surprised. I’ve never played hide and seek in the forest before. Mommy said I should stay out of the woods.”

  “That’s just when you’re alone. But you’re with me, a grownup. I’ll look after you.”

  “My feet are getting tired,” Ethan complained. He stopped on the trail, sitting in the dirt. “Can we rest?”

  “Not if you want to win the game.”

  Ethan sighed, stood, and resumed his pace. “Can we slow down?”

  Peter thought about this. The last he had looked back, Lacy had been sitting on a log trying to catch her breath. She may have gone back by now. He slowed a little.

  Ten minutes later the shack came into view. “There it is,” he said. “That’s where Uncle Bradley is hiding. You’ll want to be quiet when we approach.” He held his finger up to his lips. Ethan giggled and did the same.

  Peter took out a key and opened the padlock he had purchased at the hardware store on the night they had gone to the movies, and he had had to suffer through that horrible, animated film. He’d pay her back for that one as well.

  Bradley squinted against the flashlight beam as the door opened. It took only a moment for his eyes to adjust to the change. He was shocked when he saw Ethan standing before him, looking confused. “What the hell is this?” he asked the man standing behind his nephew.

  “A little company for you.” He nudged the boy forward. “Go ahead, Ethan. You won the game. You found Uncle Brad.”

  Ethan turned and looked at Peter. “Why is he tied up?”

  “We couldn’t let him win, could we?”

  Ethan ran to his uncle. He squatted beside him and whispered in his ear, “The m
an is bad, isn’t he, Uncle Brad?”

  Bradley, unable to hug his nephew due to the ropes around his arms, crooned into his ear. “It’s okay, Ethan. Sit here beside me.” Ethan did as his uncle told him. “You’d better not touch a hair on his head.”

  Peter laughed, waved his hand in a rolling action. “Or…” Bradley didn’t answer. “Aw, don’t worry. I’m not going to harm the boy. I’ve grown fond of him. I’m going to keep him for myself. I always wanted a son, but that selfish bitch of a wife wouldn’t get pregnant again.”

  “What’s he talking about, Uncle Brad?”

  “Don’t worry, Ethan. It’s going to be all right.”

  “Well, I’d love to stay and chat and all, but…” He looked at Ethan. “I’m sorry, lad, but I’m going to have to tie you up for just a little while. But don’t worry,” he grinned. “I’ll be back for you.”

  Ethan’s eyes grew wide. “I don’t want to be tied up.” He looked pleadingly at his uncle. “Please don’t let him tie me up, Uncle Brad.”

  “Come on, man. You don’t have to do that. He’s not going to go anywhere.”

  Peter guffawed. “Now that’s a good one. I’m a cop, and even I have to admit that’s the best one I’ve ever heard.”

  “You’re not a policeman,” Ethan cried, “Policemen are friendly.”

  “Tsk, tsk, tsk,” Peter said. “The first thing I’m going to teach you is how to address your elders. You’ve got a bit of a mouth on you, boy. Now get down there next to your uncle.”

  “Do what he says, Ethan.”

  Ethan sat down next to Bradley, crying.

  “Don’t cry. That doesn’t help,” Peter said, growing weary of the sissy-assed child. He might have to rethink keeping him. On second thought, it might be kind of fun whipping him into shape. He laughed at the idea.

  “Be brave, Ethan,” Bradley said. “When we get out of here, you can tell all your friends about your adventure.”

  Lacy was only a couple dozen yards from the shack when she heard the door open. Her father stepped out, silhouetted against the light emanating from the shack. She ducked behind a clump of bushes, waiting for him to pass, grateful for the full moon.