Blood Loss - A Magnolia Novel

by Ashley Fontainne

  The quiet murmurings of mental assurances abruptly halted as a set of headlights pierced through the thick veil of fog. The sight was followed by the sound of an engine greeting Carolyn’s ears. On instinct, fearing it was Clyde returning home from the movie, she darted behind the closest magnolia tree at the edge of Mrs. Berg’s property and crouched down. No, it couldn’t be Clyde. He always went to the bar after a movie. Maybe it was later than she thought?

  The thundering of her heart nearly drowned out Tab Hunter’s “Young Love” blaring from the radio as the dark sedan passed by. Another round of silent tears appeared as Tab’s smooth voice sang about true love, first love, and undying devotion. The song made her think of Jefferson’s betrayal. Carolyn clamped her hand over her mouth to keep the sobs inside her throat.

  Holding still until she couldn’t hear anything but the rain once more, Carolyn stood, gaze sweeping the left and right sides of the street for any more vehicles or random residents on their porches. Seeing no one, she darted across the street. She still hurt, yet the close call of being discovered set her nerves singing, allowing her to ignore the soreness.

  Latching on to the trellis, Carolyn prayed for strength to climb and not lose her grip on the slick wood. If she fell, she’d break her neck. Another was said that Miss Maud’s scary dog, Dal, wouldn’t hear her over the pelting rain. Desperate to override the fear making her hands shake, she pictured herself as her favorite heroine—Nancy Drew—on a mission to rescue or save some hapless soul from certain death. Taking a deep breath, she clawed her up to the window, pushed up the sash, and was halfway inside when the porch light in the back flicked on at the same time the low rumble of a vehicle sounded in the driveway.

  Clyde must be home! Oh no!

  Dal barked once from downstairs.

  The faint, familiar lilt of Miss Maud’s voice drifted up the stairs as she shushed him.

  Carolyn froze.

  The sound of footsteps crossing the hardwood floors made her stomach shudder.

  With but a split second to decide whether to continue forward into the room or slip back outside and risk being seen by Clyde, Carolyn opted for the first choice as a plausible lie about her predicament formed easily inside her mind.

  I’ll just tell her Jefferson and I had a big fight after he pressured me to do things an unmarried woman doesn’t do! That I thought we were eloping but Jefferson’s plan was to lure me out alone and have his way with me. I’ll apologize for lying about El Dorado when I was really out with Jefferson, but that I came home the second I understood what Jefferson had really wanted.

  The concocted excuse waned as Carolyn’s hands touched the cool hardwood. Just as the first leg made it through the windowsill, she realized the footsteps stopped.

  Dal growled low and throaty as the sound of heavy footsteps echoed from the kitchen.

  The soaked hair on Carolyn’s skin stood erect. Unexplainable tension—no, foreboding—settled over her mind.

  “What are you doin’ here?”

  The question, a mixture of irritation and fear, was never finished. Another ominous grumble from the dog’s muzzle ceased in mid-growl, just like his mistress’s question.

  “Leave him alone!” Maud yelled.

  The plea was followed by two distinct thumps. A weird human grunt came next and then…dead silence.

  Carolyn’s senses buzzed with fear as strange sounds floated up the stairwell—footsteps and more thumps and the faint chatter of some show on the television downstairs. The familiar, grating squeak of the kitchen screen door was next. Contorting her neck at an unnatural angle, she stared out the window.

  Faint wisps gray fog swirled away from the intrusion of the porch light. Expecting to see Clyde’s vehicle in the rear parking area, Carolyn saw an image that would change the course of her life.

  Forever.

  The sedan wasn’t Clyde’s, and someone dressed in all black—a man she assumed, based on the build—carried Miss Maud’s unmoving body like he was hauling a sack of grain wearing a floral print dress over his broad shoulders. The woman’s head lolled around, bouncing off the intruder’s back with each step. In a flash, the trunk was opened and her limp body tossed inside without care. The dark figure stopped and looked around once after closing the trunk, searching, Carolyn assumed, to ensure he was alone.

  The waves of light caught his face for a brief second—long enough for the breath to leave her lungs in a giant whoosh.

  She recognized him.

  Oh, God. Please don’t let him see me. Does he know I’m here? Is he coming back to get me too? What in the world has he done? Why?

  With a few quick steps, he slipped into the driver’s side and the engine purred to life. Without turning on the headlights, the car shot forward and disappeared into the haze of fog and rain.

  Unsure what just happened or what to do, her mind gridlocked. After what seemed like five minutes, her arms began to quake from holding the same position. Fearing they would give out and she would tumble onto the floor, she finished climbing inside.

  The shakes from fear and cold made her teeth chatter. Dazed, sore, and so terrified she couldn’t even gasp, her mind wouldn’t engage. For another several minutes, Carolyn tried to process what she’d witnessed yet came up blank. Why? What in the world could a boring, sixty-plus-year-old woman have done to deserve to be snatched up and—dear God, kidnapped?—in the middle of the night by him?

  Carolyn Singleton’s mind suddenly went from neutral to high gear. She didn’t waste any more time trying to figure out why. She may be poor, white trash like Jefferson said, but she wasn’t stupid.

  Something sinister, something really, really ugly and disturbing just happened.

  She wanted no part of it.

  At all.

  For a split second, she contemplated calling the police. How in the world would she explain her appearance? Where she’d been? Why she was all wet and why she’d climbed up the trellis rather than going through the front door? With a quick jerk of her head, she shook the idea from her mind. It was too risky.

  The only thoughts controlling her now were simple—change clothes, pack all she owned, clean up the traces of the water from her soaked clothes pooled on the floor, and get the hell out of Camden, Arkansas—forever—before she was the next victim.

  Stripping off her clothes, Carolyn crept over to the chifferobe she shared with Leah. In the dark, she yanked out what she hoped were her clothes, tossing them onto the bed. In less than a minute, she was dressed in a warm, dry set. Then she dropped to her knees and felt under the bed. The old suitcase, left there by a previous boarder who died the year prior, slid out without a sound. After wrapping her wet clothes in an extra pillow case, she stuffed them alongside the dry ones. Snatching a fluffy towel from the dresser, she wiped up all the water and then deposited it, too, into the overstuffed suitcase.

  Once finished, she didn’t even think about the ramifications of rifling through Leah’s private drawers. She knew Leah kept a wad of cash hidden in the back corner in an old brassiere and had no doubts that if the situation were reversed, Leah wouldn’t hesitate stealing from her for one second.

  Feeling around, she found the bra and was surprised it contained a large bulge. Nestled next to the other undergarments was a small clutch. She decided to take it as well, hoping more cash was squirreled away inside. Without counting the amount, Carolyn’s last item was a rain slicker. Once dressed with suitcase in hand, she stared out the window, terrified of climbing back down.

  She had little choice. The thought of going downstairs made her shudder. She didn’t stop to think about what others would think about her fleeing into the night, perhaps blaming the disappearance of her guardian on Carolyn. There wasn’t enough time to consider all options or think rationally.

  Carolyn’s thoughts were all about survival.

  Tossing the suitcase out the window, thrilled the rain had let up, Carolyn heard it land with a soft thump on the soaked ground. While shimmying down
the trellis, she prayed the latch remained closed rather than busting open and spilling the contents all over the backyard.

  It held, and it was the first thing to go right for her in over three months.

  Carolyn fled as though the devil was right behind her, the pain in her body nothing more than a distant memory. She didn’t look back, didn’t stop, until she was on the other side of town at the bus depot. The initial idea to escape to El Dorado passed when she noticed there was one bus headed to New Orleans. On a whim, she purchased a one-way ticket to the Big Easy.

  Once on the bus with only a smattering of passengers—ones she didn’t recognize thank Heavens—Carolyn took a deep breath as they rumbled down Highway 7. With tired eyes, she watched the city she’d grown to hate and now feared fade into the distance. Good riddance to royal rubbish! The Queen City was slowly dying anyway as poverty crept in from the shadows like ghoulish monsters, gobbling up unsuspecting victims.

  The rain had stopped, yet the fog clung tight to the evening. Once the final puff of rolling steam from the last manufacturing plant disappeared, she let out a long sigh. The lull of the engine and the surrounding darkness tried to lure her mind into sleep, but Carolyn fought to remain awake, fearful he might be around any corner, any crevice, waiting to pounce like a pole cat, just as he’d done to Miss Maud.

  Fidgeting in the seat, Carolyn grimaced. She needed something to do, to concentrate on, rather than worry about what was behind the nightmare on Clifton Street. Unlatching the suitcase, she extracted the cash from the bra and counted. She nearly squealed with delight—almost fifteen-hundred dollars! After cramming the wad inside her wallet, she decided to see what was inside the small clutch, hoping additional cash was hidden inside or maybe some lipstick or powder. She pilfered around yet discovered nothing to make her look more presentable tucked away inside.

  However, what she did find made the wheels of her tired, stressed-out mind spin even faster.

  She gaped with wild-eyed awe at the social security card and Arkansas driver’s license, both in the name of the “wayward” girl living in the Crawford home until she died in a car accident after a night out drinking and carousing at The Pines with several rowdy soldiers.

  They were the same age, born only two months apart.

  For the first time in weeks, Carolyn let a small smile appear. She could use the documents to create a new identity and there was enough cash to disappear and start over, never returning to the wretched town and all the nasty secrets it held. Maybe the entity Miss Maud believed in finally took pity her because it seemed a miracle just happened: she’d just been granted a chance at a new life. Two pieces of flimsy paper offered her a way to escape and stay alive in case he knew she’d been upstairs and witnessed his despicable deed.

  Closing the purse, she said a silent prayer that God would intervene and do the same for Miss Maud.

  The oily rumble inside her stomach told her it was too late for the feisty old woman to be saved by anyone, heavenly being or not.

  Chapter 1

  Hot Springs, Arkansas – Thursday, March 2, 2017 – 4:30 a.m.

  Two sounds hit Karina at once: Ranger’s incessant barking morphed into a throaty growl, and the unmistakable sound of the screech of the door to the back porch. She’d only heard the ominous snarls during Ranger’s training. It was the final warning to a target before he attacked. Whoever just entered the house was about to have his limbs ripped off.

  Extracting the gun from her robe, Karina reached for her cell. She dialed 9-1-1 while crouching by the door.

  “9-1-1. What’s your emergency?”

  Cupping her hand over the receiver to amplify her voice, she whispered, “Karina Summers. 817 Highway 35. Junior Tuck’s place. Intruder inside the house. Hurry!”

  The sound of Ranger’s yelp of pain interrupted her words. She fought the urge to rush down the stairs to his aid. Instead, she disconnected the call and flicked the cell to mute. She shoved it into her pocket, opened the door to the hallway, and stepped out. Her grandparents’ house was dark and silent. Fury mixed with fear for Ranger pushed every other emotion away, giving her laser beam focus on the situation. Her bare feet made no sound as she moved, gun at the ready.

  Then, the smell hit her. The stench of rotten eggs made her gag. Tears formed but she ignored them. Karina could hear the hiss of the gas coming from the kitchen, probably from the oven or water heater. Terror thundered in her chest when the next smell hit: smoke.

  Shit!

  Steadying her back against the wall, she peeked around the doorway into the kitchen. It was too dark to see Ranger or the intruder, but she heard the scratch of Ranger’s claws on the floor, along with his low whimpers. No heavy breathing. No footsteps. Tears poured from her eyes, so she dropped to the floor and crawled toward the sound of her dog. In seconds, she felt Ranger's furry coat.

  The big lab was over one hundred pounds. Karina stuck the gun in her pocket and heaved with all her might. Once in her arms, she braced her back against the countertop and scooted in the direction of the door. Lightning sparkled across the sky, illuminating for a brief second, the door, and the silver handle of the enormous blade sticking out of her beloved dog’s neck.

  Coughing, sputtering for air as spit and tears ran down her cheeks, Karina threw her body weight against the screen, stumbling out into the yard. She made it halfway to the barn before the world erupted. The concussion knocked her several feet into the air. Ranger’s body flew out of her arms and Karina's screams of anguish were drowned out by the explosion.

  The entire pasture looked like it was bathed in daylight. Burning heat rushed over her as shards of debris peppered her exposed legs and arms. Karina landed hard, face-down, in the grass. The impact nearly knocked her out, but she fought to remain conscious.

  This. Isn’t. Happening.

  Disoriented, she opened her eyes and searched for Ranger. She tried to whistle, but her mouth was full of blood. Though the fire from the burning embers of what was once Gram and Grampa’s home provided plenty of light, Karina couldn’t make much out. When it finally sunk in it was because her glasses were gone, panic welled up inside her chest.

  I’ve got to get out of here and I can’t see!

  Ears ringing from the blast, she tried to listen for sounds of the intruder, but it was no use. Just as she wiggled her left arm out from under her body, blurry movement to the left made her stiffen.

  Karina knew she only had one chance. Holding still, she waited for the attacker to close in. Her right hand eased inside her pocket and clamped around the gun. Thankfully, her hair covered most of her face, so she watched through the strands as the figure moved closer. When the body was less than five feet away she jerked.

  Rolling to her right, Karina pulled the gun from her pocket and fired four quick shots. The first missed the target, but the remaining bullets didn’t. Two slammed into the torso and one into the head. The body crumpled to the ground.

  “Screw you!” Karina stood on wobbly legs and walked over, gun aimed at the still body. She squinted, and realized it was a man—one she didn’t recognize—and he was obviously dead. Half his head was gone, and blood poured from the wounds to his upper chest.

  “You bastard! Why did you…oh, my God. Everything is gone. You killed my dog, you sick freak. Destroyed my family’s house, tried to kill me. Fuck you!”

  The dead bastard wouldn’t feel a thing, but Karina didn’t care. She raised her bare foot and brought it down with all the strength she had left on his crotch. “That fucking mobster Caesar Calvanio sent you, didn’t he?” Karina continued to stomp on his balls, accentuating each word with her heel. “Don’t. Screw. With. My. Family.”

  Out of breath, she backed away and stared at the flames. Tears rolled down her face, and she was actually thankful for the moment her vision was blurry. Anguished sobs burst out, and she mumbled her thanks to the Heavens above none of her family had been home. Her body started to tremble as cooling rain fell from the sky. Karina knew t
he adrenaline crash was imminent, along with a hefty dose of shock.

  Sinking to the ground she crawled toward Ranger, ignoring the pain from her injuries. “Oh, Ranger. I’m so sorry. You tried to warn me and I didn’t pay enough attention. Oh, God, I’m sorry. Hang on, buddy. Help is coming. We’ll get you to the vet, I promise.” She choked out followed by a whimper of sorrow when his still body came into focus. In the distance, she heard the faint whine of sirens. “Help is coming.”

  “Not in time to save you, bitch.”

  On instinct, Karina went for her gun. Searing hot pain exploded inside her head, filling her visions with bursts of white and yellow. She felt her body fall forward, the gun fly from her fingers, and the scratchy fur of Ranger’s body on her cheek. Moaning, Karina felt around for the knife embedded in his body. As her fingers found the cold steel, the last thing Karina saw was a boot inches from her face…

  …Karina awoke with a start, heart racing and breath caught in a dry throat. The vivid, horrifying dream and the mental jousting to end it and wake up left her in full panic mode, sweat coating every inch of her body, soaking the sheet underneath her trembling body in cool dampness.

  Blinking twice in the darkness, only a sliver of moonlight piercing through the edge of a curtain, she fought to regain control of her bearings. On autopilot, her hand reached under the pillow, fumbling around for her glasses. She hated having poor eyesight, especially upon wakening because the world around her was a giant blur of intermingled colors with no definite shape or familiarity. It made her feel vulnerable, and Karina Summers abhorred the sensation of vulnerability.

  Movement from her right followed by a soft moan sent cold fear racing through her veins, nerves on heightened alert. She stiffened then almost laughed at her pathetic response when she glanced over and realized Ranger had shifted positions, his furry black body draped over Bo’s legs, and the sound she’d heard had escaped from Bo’s sensual lips. Smiling, she let her fingers touch the lock of golden hair covering her lover’s forehead, relishing the silky texture between her index finger and thumb. Memories of their nocturnal activities hours before made heat flush her cheeks. In less than six months, the sexy cowboy whom she originally assumed would be just a fun fling had become a permanent fixture in Karina’s daily routine.