Stand

by Becky Johnson

  Back at the D.C. police station Nate and I settled in to wait. Cindy went through processing and then into interviewing. Elizabeth was led back into the second interrogation room. A uniformed officer took Nate and I to the observation room. It was ironic. After all the searching for answers, the instant each woman found out the other was there, they couldn’t tell their story fast enough.

  Elizabeth and Cindy were childhood friends. They grew up together. When Cindy was twelve her father declared bankruptcy and abandoned her and her mother. Cindy and Elizabeth went from being equals to being the rich girl and her poor friend. Cindy grew up knowing she was smarter than Elizabeth and all of her privileged friends. She watched them have all kinds of opportunities while she struggled. Elizabeth still hung out with her, but only secretly. In public Elizabeth ignored her. It hurt. Elizabeth lived in the big beautiful home; Cindy lived in a small two bedroom apartment. Elizabeth was educated in the best private school. Cindy attended public school. Elizabeth had distant parents, divorced, cycling through various boyfriends or girlfriends. Cindy had a mother that worked two jobs to make ends meet. She spent most meals and evenings by herself. Elizabeth had everything. Cindy had nothing. They were best friends and yet they were deeply resentful of each other. No one in their respective lives knew they were acquainted. They had no ties and lived completely separate. They were the perfect co-conspirators.

  Cindy’s bitterness with her life and situation grew. She was so much smarter than everyone around her and she was stuck as an assistant. She came up with the idea to kill Muriel, but Cindy made Elizabeth think it was hers. Elizabeth had lived her life rich, she couldn’t imagine not being rich. When she heard that her mother might not leave all her money to her, she freaked. She went to her old friend Cindy and ranted and raved. Cindy saw a perfect opportunity to get something, a perfect opportunity to get back what she deserved.

  Killing Muriel was easy. She was old and sick. All they needed was someone to not watch her closely, someone to not give her all her medicine, someone to walk a fine line of neglect.

  After Muriel’s death Elizabeth planned to hire Cindy’s law firm to handle the will. Since it was written after Muriel started getting sick, it was easy to negate.

  Then they had to deal with Jimmy. That was one thing they never expected. Cindy and Elizabeth expected to walk away with the money and live easy. Jimmy complicated things. Elizabeth started to panic. Cindy was not going to give up.

  That was where Donny came in. He threatened Jimmy, and later shot Jimmy.

  Once they started talking, Cindy and Elizabeth didn’t stop for three hours straight. Of course, they both blamed each other. There was a lot of ‘I’m innocent, I never would have thought of this, but she came up it all.’ Sometimes friendship only goes so far.

  In the end, it all came down to money. Two people were dead, one of them a helpless old woman, just for money. In a way I wished that there was some other reason, some other motivation that made more sense. Money was such a cold blooded reason to kill, to murder. I guess I wanted something more logical, but when does murder ever make sense?

  Cindy, Elizabeth, and Donny were each arrested for two counts of murder and conspiracy to commit murder. It was a little after seven in the evening.

  Chapter 28

  Nate, Jack, and I drove home. Nate and I were in Big Bertha, Jack was in his work car. I was exhausted. I actually let Nate drive. No, I’ll be honest I asked him to drive. I know, not at all like me. It had been a long forty-eight hours. I was really looking forward to being home. I sent Tammy a text saying I was on my way back. She replied that everything was settled at home, but Max and Kitty were ready for me to return.

  The entire Jimmy case had overwhelmed me. It was just supposed to be a missing person case. I wonder how I was going to break it to Erin that I found my missing person and that now he was murdered. Oh well, that was a problem for tomorrow.

  I let my head rest back against the seat. My body felt limp, worn out. I was just going close my eyes for a minute.

  I woke up when we pulled into my driveway. I was so deep asleep that waking was disorienting. I didn’t know where I was, when I was, who I was. I think Nate was laughing at me, but he was pretty nice about my obvious confusion.

  I only had my oversized shoulder bag and laptop bag to carry inside. Nate offered to help me, but I told him it wasn’t necessary. I really just wanted to crawl in bed. It was only about ten, but I was ready for bed right that minute.

  We pulled Bertha into the garage, and said goodbye. It was a little awkward. I didn’t know how to say goodbye to him. He had saved my life. We had solved a case together. For the past forty-eight hours we had been inseparable. Did I shake his hand? Give him a hug? I settled for an awkward sort of wave. Ugh. I wonder at myself sometimes.

  Nate walked down my driveway to his truck and I lowered the garage door. I sighed. Home, sweet home.

  ______

  I called out for Max and Kitty as soon as I entered the house. I couldn’t wait to see them. The sound of nails on hardwood was the only warning I had before fifty pounds of excited pit-bull hit me full speed. I fell back on my butt laughing, my bags forgotten beside me. Max was wiggling so hard he was practically bending himself in half. We sat there on the entryway floor for a good ten minutes with Max welcoming me home, doing his best imitation of a lap dog. Kitty even made an appearance, flicked her tail a little at the lack of dignity inherent in dogs and wandered away. I guessed I would have to pet her later.

  When Max had adequately expressed his joy that I was home I got up from the floor and hung up my coat and bag. I made myself a cup of tea. I needed a long hot shower to wash the last few days away. I felt tainted by greed. Max was panting by the door.

  “Did all your enthusiasm wear you out? Poor baby.” He put his head down and panted up at me. I laughed at him as I took my tea upstairs.

  I sipped my tea as I walked through the upstairs turning on lights and humming to myself. I got out shorts and a tank top, and dropped my dirty clothing in the hamper. I put on some Enya. As I stepped into the shower I made a conscious choice to let the last few days go. At least Jimmy’s family had some answers. It was an ugly answer to an ugly situation, but I had done the best I could. Let it go, Char, let it go. With the scent of lavender body wash and the sound of Enya singing throughout the bedroom, I did my best to let the last few days go.

  Afterward I sipped my tea and toweled off. The tension still clung to me. Breathe, just breathe. This was a night where I needed my routine and ritual. Once I was dressed in my tank and shorts I went through some slow yoga poses, mountain pose, tree pose, down dog, child’s pose. Breathe. When I stood back up I was so relaxed I was ready to sleep. I turned off Enya, pulled on a thick white robe, slid my feet into comfortable slippers, and plodded down the stairs to the kitchen.

  “Max, you wanna go out?”

  I rinsed my cup in the sink and placed it on the drain board.

  “Max?”

  Usually just calling his name had him vibrating at my side.

  “Max?”

  Nothing. Immediately the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. My gut twisted.

  “Max? Where are you?”

  Max is incapable of ignoring me. I call, he comes. It is the great thing about a relationship with a dog. The fact that I was calling and he wasn’t coming lead me to one conclusion: something was very wrong.

  My intuition was ringing alarm bells of imminent danger. I slipped my feet out of my slippers. I had mace and a small baton in my purse, which was in the closet. My gun was upstairs.

  I silently slid along the kitchen wall and peeked around the corner. I could see through to the living room. Max lay in a heap on the floor. My heart lurched. My instinct was to run to him. My feet started to step, but I stopped myself.

  I stared hard at him. I could see his chest rise and fall. He was alive, if unconscious. In order to get to him I needed to go past the hall to the bathroom and pantry. It was one o
f the few places on the first floor that I couldn’t clearly see. My shoulder bag was around the kitchen island to the right. My first goal was to get there. At least I could get a weapon and my car keys. Although, getting to the garage would mean getting past several doorways and hiding places.

  I had to get to my bag. The tension in my gut and prickling skin convinced me that I needed to move and move right now. Deep down in my gut I could feel the presence of someone else, like a dark taint inside my home.

  I took my robe off and wrapped it around my left arm, which would give me something to block any attacks with. I grabbed a knife from the block on the counter in my right hand. Keeping my back to the wall, I crept out of the kitchen and slid along the side of the island separating the kitchen from the living room. The closet with my bag was about fifteen feet to my right. Just before the closet to the left was a bathroom.

  I slid in a crouch along the island. I kept looking back and forth. I could practically feel their breathing disrupting the air. There was a heavy weight of another’s presence stifling the calm of my sanctuary. My only focus was getting to my bag and getting my weapons. I had a knife, but I wasn’t good at defending myself with a blade. I was more likely to have it taken from me and used against me. My baton and mace, now those I could use. If I could upstairs to my gun, I’d be in good shape. One thing at time, Char, get to your bag.

  I was just about even with the bathroom. I hadn’t seen anyone or anything. If he was inside the dark bathroom I would be most vulnerable just before the doorway. I paused for a second undecided. Should I go into the bathroom? It wasn’t large, just a powder room. It would be just a quick check to make sure no one was hiding there. Should I reach out and close the door as I went past? This was never a scenario covered by Moshe in our training.

  I couldn’t stay where I was, crouched against the island. I decided to pull the door shut. I slid along the island to the bathroom door and leaned forward to grab the handle with the same hand that clutched the knife.

  Suddenly the door slammed forward into me, pushing me backward. It knocked the knife out of my hand. I hit the island with my back and fell to the side, away from the closet and my weapons.

  A living nightmare burst out of the bathroom. He was huge. Over six feet tall, broad as a bear, with hands like dinner plates. If he got hold of me I was finished.

  He stood over me and in a voice like gravel declared. “Georgia sends her regards.”

  My heart seized in my chest and terror threatened to take over. My nightmare come to claim me. He took a step looming above me. In the next heartbeat all those training sessions and muscle memory kicked in. I pushed myself back along the island and threw the robe at him. My right foot and hands came up to defend my body. My left foot anchored to the ground to keep me moving and facing him. The robe hit him in the face, but deterred him for only a second. Then he turned and charged straight towards me. I drove my right leg into his abdomen. It felt like striking a brick wall. He bellowed, but barely even stopped. I drew my knee back to kick again. I had to stand up. On the ground I was dead.

  I kicked him again. He grunted and took a step back. I wasn’t strong enough to do much damage. He was a bull charging right back. I pulled my knee up again. This time I aimed a little lower. I drove my right foot heel first into his groin with every ounce of strength I had. He made a noise like a scalded cat and stumbled backward several steps. It was enough for me to react. Plant the right hand, lift the hips, swing the right leg back, plant the right leg, stand, back away. I was up. He was still recovering.

  I ran for the steps.

  I took them two at a time. The stairs curve halfway up. I slammed into the wall at the halfway point. I heard him at the bottom. I threw myself up the stairs, my breath sawing in and out. He leapt from the landing and grabbed my calf, tripping me. As I fell I kicked my heels, trying to inflict as much damage as possible. I hit his nose. He barely made a sound as blood gushed, but it gave me enough leverage to get loose. I crawled away then jumped up and ran down the hallway. I was only seconds in front of him.

  I fell through my bedroom door, slammed it shut and locked behind me. The gun safe was across the room. It opened with my thumb print. The gun inside was loaded. It had a trigger safety. All I had to do was pull it out and fire. I had timed myself. It would take me four seconds to get it out of the case. It could take him less than that to break through the door. My cell phone was plugged into the charger on the nightstand. I grabbed my cell phone and gun case and raced into the bathroom. I locked that door behind me. I dialed Jack. I probably should have called 911, but my mind has a link between help and Jack, it goes there automatically.

  Jack answered on the second ring. Three things happened at the same time. I got the gun case open, Jack said hello, and the sudden eerie silence caught my attention. He should have broken into the bedroom by now. He should be banging on the bathroom door, but everything was quiet. There was not a sound in the house. Somehow that silence was more terrifying than if I had heard him banging down the door.

  “Charlotte, Char, what’s going on? Char.”

  “There’s someone in my house.” I whispered, the words barely discernible.

  “Are you okay? I’m calling the police.”

  “He was right outside the bedroom. I don’t know where he is anymore.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Locked in the bathroom.”

  “I’m on my way. I’m five minutes away… less than that.”

  “I don’t know where he is.”

  “Stay where you are.”

  “He did something to Max,” and my voice caught as my heart broke, just a little.

  “Charlotte, stay where you are.”

  I had my gun in my hand. I didn’t hear the intruder. Now all I could think about was Max. What if he did something else to Max.

  “I don’t hear him anymore.”

  “Charlotte. I will be there any minute. Stay where you are.”

  “Okay.” I feel bad, because that was a lie. As I said it I was easing open the bathroom door and creeping back into the bedroom. Not knowing where he was located felt worse than being chased by him. When he was chasing me I knew right where he was. Now he could be anywhere. I know I was acting like one of those terribly stupid horror movie characters who go down in the basement right after the lights go out. In my defense, at least I had a gun.

  I listened at the bedroom door and didn’t hear anything. I listened a little more. Should I try and get to my car? Jack was still on the phone.

  “You are still in the bathroom, right?”

  “Right.”

  The bedroom door shattered.

  I screamed.

  I could hear Jack yelling in my ear.

  I pulled the trigger.

  Chapter 29

  I didn’t kill him.

  I shot him, but he was still alive when the EMTs took him to the Trauma Unit at the University Hospital.

  Jack and the police arrived moments after I shot the intruder. Jack was on his way to my house when I called him. He had tried calling me. When I didn’t answer he decided to drive by. He explained that if all my lights were out and things looked okay, he would assume all was well. If not, then he would stop and ring the doorbell. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that probably would have scared me half to death. I was too grateful that he was here with me. Normally he would have been at least half an hour away. I was glad he decided to check on me. I guess he got that gut feeling that something wasn’t right, too.

  Max had been drugged. Jack and I took him to the Vet Emergency room. They ran a whole series of tests. My attacker crushed approximately two milligrams of Xanax in a cup of vanilla pudding. Max was unconscious, but essentially fine. They gave him IV fluids.

  It was so sad to see Max lying on that little stretcher with an IV going. I sat next to him and just pet him. That was when I started to cry. Not great big sobs or anything, those quiet tears that just slip down your cheeks. Jack didn’t
say anything about the sudden moisture on my face, he just scooted his chair a little closer until his body was pressed to mine. It helped.

  They wanted me to go the ER as well. I refused. I was a little banged up, but honestly I’d been through worse. I will definitely not be skipping any self-defense sessions. They saved my life more than once.

  The next day Max and I were home. Jack had called someone for me and there was a new front door and bedroom door waiting when I got there. I didn’t realize it at the time, but the police had to break down the front door to get inside.

  Jack and I walked in together with Max at my side. Everything looked the same. I guess I expected chaos. I found Kitty under the bed. She growled and was not about to come out. I talked to her until she calmed enough that I was able to pet her, but she was staying put. I wondered if I was going to have to start putting her food under there.

  Jack and I didn’t say much. We didn’t need to. I had needed him and he was there. We sat for a while on the couch. The silence was comfortable.

  It was about eight that evening when he asked me. “Do you want me to stay?” The truth was I did. More than anything I wanted him to stay.

  “I do, but I need to do this. I need to know that I can be alone.”

  “Okay.”

  I walked him to the door. The hug he gave me there went bone deep, and he pressed a kiss to my temple. When I shut the door behind him I felt calm. I knew I was going to make it.

  ______

  As for the guy who attacked me, his name is Grant McCairn. He was arrested by the local police for breaking and entering and assault and battery before he was taken into FBI custody. Until he broke into my house I had never heard of him. The only connection I had to him was Georgia. I could only assume that he worked for her or with her. I didn’t know exactly what his relationship to her was. Was he like Lawrence Pheares? Was he her partner? When it came to Georgia it seemed like there were more questions than answers. The one thing I knew for sure was that she was after me, my own personal monster.