Love Song: A friends-to-lovers rock & roll romantic suspense

by K. G. Fletcher

  Screaming obscenities at her, she put her hands over her ears as her life flashed before her eyes.

  ***

  Sam could hear a man yelling… and it was coming from inside the barn. He cautiously made his way to the big doors and hesitated before peering around the corner. Squinting, he looked into the shadows and could see Casey on the ground crawling toward the open barn door.

  When she saw him, she seemed to panic and screamed, “Get out! Get out! He’s here!”

  “Casey?” Bolting toward her, he slid on his knees and reached for her with both arms. His fingertips barely grazed hers when a final, deafening shot rang out.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Dylan held Gwyneth’s little hand as he showed her how to hop across the small stream using the flat rocks so she wouldn’t get her boots wet. They jumped onto the grassy knoll when the other shot rang out, both of them quickly turning their heads in the direction of the sound. Bleu whined and panted nervously, pacing on the shoreline.

  “Come on G… the fort is this way.”

  Gwyneth stayed still and her lower lip trembled. “I want Cee-Cee and Sam to come back,” she cried quietly.

  Dylan knew she was scared. Not knowing what was happening back at the barn, he was scared too. But his uncle had left him in charge. He dug deep, and mustered the courage to reassure her. “They’ll be back soon. Sam told us to wait for him, remember? Besides, you’re going to love this old fort. Me and Sam built it ourselves last summer. It’s got a window and everything.” He tried his best to be upbeat and steer her imagination away from her fear.

  Her rosebud lips continued to quiver and she reached her hand out for him to help her up the slight embankment. Bleu looked in the direction of the gunshot before cantering up the hill behind them. They continued into a small clearing that opened into another pasture where a giant, lone oak tree grew in the middle. The gnarled branches were the perfect spot for a homemade fort built out of long beams of scrap wood.

  “Look GG! There it is!” He pointed at the fort, pulling her by the hand. “Come on! I think my treasure chest is still up there.”

  They ran through the field under the full sun. The tall, faded grass tickled Dylan’s waist and Gwyneth’s shoulders. Under the shade of the tree, Dylan pulled on a beige rope hidden in the branches, and a small ramp lowered to the ground.

  “We thought a ramp would be easier for Bleu,” he explained. As if on cue, Bleu walked up the slanted wood into the tiny opening of the structure and GG curiously followed. Dylan was right behind them and leaned out to pull on the rope, hoisting the ramp forward to close it off like a door. He was breathless but satisfied he’d followed his uncle’s instructions to keep Bleu and GG safe. She looked around the empty interior of the fort before she sat in the dusty corner and put her thumb in her mouth. Bleu laid his head on her lap and she stroked his fur.

  “So, you want to see my treasure chest?” Dylan asked excitedly, hoping to coax her into a better place. She nodded with wide eyes. He poked his finger into a knothole and pulled up a small floorboard. Reaching into the opening, he retrieved a shoebox that contained a pack of cards, a small pocketknife, some river rocks, and a couple of pieces of colorful hard candy stored in a Ziploc baggie. GG watched him spread his treasure out on the floor. “Would you like a piece of candy?” he asked sweetly, holding up the baggie for her to see the rainbow of colors he had to offer. She shook her head no.

  With a halfhearted smile, he started to put everything back into the box. “You want to play cards? Crazy Eights is fun. It’s real easy and I could teach you.” She shook her head again. He sighed. “Well, I guess now we just sit and wait.”

  ***

  Sam threw his body across Casey to protect her, the sound of the gunshot ringing in his ears. She clung to him in the aftermath and he could feel her heartbeat pulsing through her shirt. It felt like time stood still and when the dust in the old barn settled, he finally pulled himself up and looked around the space cautiously. There was no sign of Donny and it was eerily quiet.

  “Are you alright?” he whispered, cupping her face with his hands. His blue eyes were dark with concern.

  Casey shook her head and closed her eyes grimacing in pain. “I fell out of the loft door. I’m pretty sure my ankle is broken,” she whispered back.

  Sam looked around their surroundings warily before he delicately pulled up the bottom of her jeans to assess her ankle. Casey’s face was pale as she leaned back on her hands, and he frowned, his heart sinking at the sight of her injury. Her ankle was disjointed with a dark purple swelling setting in.

  “I need to get you to a doctor. Do you think you can stand on your good leg?”

  She nodded and he stood up, hoisting her gently to a standing position, pulling one of her arms around his neck.

  “Oh, God! It hurts so much,” she whimpered, biting her lip.

  “I know sweetie. Come on, I need to get you outta here.”

  Leaning heavily on Sam, she hopped on her good foot as he brought her out into the daylight. He set her in a chair by the fire pit and started to go back into the barn.

  “What are you doing?” she cried, panic-stricken.

  “I just want to make sure the guy is no longer a threat, and I need to close the barn doors and lock them.”

  “Please Sam, call 911. It’s Donny and he has a gun!” she urged, terror apparent in her voice.

  “This will only take a second. I’ll be careful.” She nodded, her chest heaving with anxiety.

  Sam cautiously approached the barn and peeked inside. “Mister? You okay back there?” he yelled tentatively. He paused to listen for any movement or response. When there was no answer, he started to walk very slowly down the large, dirt aisle to the back of the structure where the gun had been fired. The door on the last stall was wide open and he caught a glimpse of Donny’s motionless legs lying on the hay-strewn floor. The man was in the shadows of the dark corner and there was no movement. Sam cautiously flipped on a bank of lights illuminating the dusty space but wasn’t prepared for what he saw when he turned to look in the stall again.

  Donny Tanner had turned the small revolver on himself. Half of his face was blown off and dark liquid pooled around his lifeless body, his hand still clutching the gun. Sam put his hand to his mouth, tears welling in his eyes. It was a tragic end to an obviously tormented man. He exhaled slowly, taking in the gruesome scene and spotted Casey’s cell phone in the pink Otter box case tossed on the ground just outside the stall. He grabbed it and quickly turned off the lights before running outside. Casey was beside herself, sobbing, asking where the kids were.

  “Shhh, darlin’, they’re safe. I told them to wait at the old fort for me.” Kneeling in front of her, he stroked her cheek tenderly with reassurance.

  “Is he gone?” she whimpered.

  “Yes… he’s gone.” He wasn’t about to tell her what he discovered in the barn stall. Touching the screen on her phone, he was perplexed scrolling through several 911 text messages from Beth Roberts who’d been trying to get in touch with Casey, asking her to please call immediately. He hesitated and decided not to show these messages to her just yet, a sense of foreboding creeping into his being. He quickly dialed 911.

  “911. What is your emergency?”

  Sam inhaled deeply as his hand trembled, holding the phone to his ear. “I need an ambulance and the sheriff at Wildner farm. There’s been a terrible accident….”

  ***

  John Dukes trudged through the tall grass to the fort he helped Sam and Dylan build the previous summer. He nervously raked his fingers through his long, silver beard, full of anxiety with what Sam had just told him over the phone. Apparently, there had been a suicide in the Wildner barn and Sam’s nephew and girlfriend’s niece were hiding out in the old fort. Sam was with his wounded girlfriend, and he pleaded with him to take care of the kids while he waited on the police to arrive.

  John’s gray eyes narrowed the closer he got to the big oak tree. He wa
s worried, knowing he wasn’t the best candidate for the job. He wasn’t what you would call a “kid magnet,” rarely spending time with people younger than the age of thirty. At least Dylan knew him, and somehow over the years he’d managed to befriend the young boy among the animals and outdoor activities on the farm. He picked up his pace and could hear Bleu barking from within the fort.

  “Dylan, it’s me, John Dukes.” He put his hands on his hips and watched as the rope was pulled and the ramp put into place. A slight smile blossomed across his rugged face, satisfied the ramp system he’d invented still seemed to work pretty well. Bleu jogged down the plank and greeted him with a rub of his nose against his hand. “Hey, Bleu. How you doin’ boy?” He rubbed his head vigorously.

  “Hey Mr. Dukes,” Dylan came down the ramp and stood before him. “Where’s my uncle?”

  John tugged on his beard nervously again. “Well, he asked me to come tend to you and the little girl. He’s kind of in the middle of something.” He peered over the boy’s head into the opening of the fort and could see a small child huddled in the corner. “Is she gonna come out too?”

  Dylan looked over his shoulder, then back at John with a grim look on his face. “She’s not doing so good.”

  “Hmm. I see. Well, got any suggestions how we can get her to come out and come over to my place to see the horses?”

  “Did you hear that G? Mr. Dukes is ready for you to see his horsies.” They waited for a reply before Dylan looked up at the old man with concern. “What happened at the barn Mr. Dukes? Why were there gun shots?”

  John chewed on his lower lip, not knowing what to say. “Well, there was some kind of accident and the police are looking into it. Sam is taking care of everything so don’t you worry yourself.”

  “Is Casey okay?” he whispered with unease.

  John offered a weak smile and tussled the boy’s blond hair. “She’s fine. Now don’t you be goin’ and worrying yourself none. It just might take some time for them to speak to the officers, and they didn’t want your last day to be wasted.” He hoped this news calmed the boy.

  “I’ll go talk to her,” Dylan offered. He climbed back up the ramp and sat cross-legged in front of GG. She continued to suck her thumb, and her cheeks glistened with fresh tears. “Oh, come on G. It’s okay. John is my friend. He’s the guy with the horsies.” She stared at him. “Don’t you wanna pet the horsies anymore?” She shook her head and pulled her thumb out of her mouth briefly.

  “I want Cee-Cee and Sam,” she whispered, her voice quivering with emotion.

  He nodded. “They’re gonna meet us there. John is going to walk over with us and Sam and Casey will be there soon.”

  Gwyneth sniffled and suddenly stood up. “Okay.”

  Dylan put his hand out for her to take and the two of them stood at the top of the ramp, a slight breeze blowing through their hair. “We’re ready Mr. Dukes.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Casey sat in the back of an ambulance and watched the Forsyth County morgue assistants wheel Donny Tanner out of the barn in a black body bag. Loaded into a hearse, he was finally driven out of her life in a cloud of dust. She stared out at the pristine, sunny day that lit up the farm making it look like a beautiful postcard. It was a remarkable contrast to the ugliness of death. Her ankle had been stabilized, and one of the attendants gave her a small dose of something to calm her nerves. She could feel the effects of the medicine and continued to stare off into space, thankful for the moment, she was feeling no pain.

  The thought of Donny turning the gun on himself in Sam’s barn was frightening. Knowing he was a volatile and messed up man, in a million years she never thought he could ever do something as drastic and final as this. Her only consolation was knowing he was now out of her and Laura and Gwyneth’s lives forever.

  With one hand on his hip and the other rubbing the back of his neck, Sam spoke with several officers. He nodded periodically and nervously glanced over at Casey as they continued to fill him in on everything that had happened, including Laura’s murder. Sam briefly spoke with a distraught Beth Roberts who’d been trying to reach them with the horrific news for over an hour. Apparently, she had come back to Laura’s apartment to pick her up and came upon a full-fledged crime scene like something out of a movie. Mrs. Donovan was on a stretcher in the parking lot breathing oxygen through a mask. Beth learned the elderly neighbor was the one who discovered Laura, and called 911, subsequently collapsing in her own living room suffering an anxiety attack. Relaying the events to Sam over the phone, Beth cried and cried telling him she was beside herself with worry when she couldn’t get in touch with Casey. It broke his heart to hear this devastating news and he pleaded with the officers not to tell Casey until she was under medical supervision at the hospital. They relented, asking her only a few questions as to her relationship to Donny Tanner.

  A news van was parked at the end of the long, gravel driveway with the satellite protruding out of the top while a news chopper hovered over the farm. Sam wondered what was going through Casey’s mind with all of the chaos and crews of people on his property. He knew she was out of sorts with her injury and the medication. Earlier, she asked him to call her sister to let her know they were safe. He wished it could have been that simple.

  Sam shook the officers’ hands before hoisting himself up into the back of the ambulance. “How are you, darlin’?” he asked, tucking her hair behind her ear. She stared at him, glassy-eyed, not able to speak, the effects of the medication evident.

  “We gave her a little something for her pain. It helps take the edge off,” the young, male attendant offered. A second attendant closed the back doors and the vehicle slowly started down the road to the hospital. “The X-rays at the hospital will definitely be able to determine if her ankle is broken or not. If it is, she may need surgery.”

  Sam nodded and buckled himself into the seat next to the gurney. Holding Casey’s hand, he caressed her skin with his thumb as she turned away from him and closed her eyes. He swallowed a huge lump in his throat, knowing he was on borrowed time. He replayed the conversation with the officers in his head when they told him Laura had been murdered in her apartment a few hours earlier. All evidence pointed to Donny Tanner. How was he going to tell the love of his life her sister had been murdered? He shuddered at the thought and closed his eyes, thankful for the brief respite.

  ***

  Gwyneth was in heaven. Standing on a chair by the fence, she fed John’s horses carrots and small apples. He showed her how to lay her hand flat and giggled as the horse lips and giant teeth raked over her tiny palm, scooping up the treats. She held her nose when one of them pooped, making Dylan belly laugh out loud. She warmed up to John slowly and by mid-afternoon, he was smitten, making her a peanut butter and jelly sandwich per her request.

  John Dukes had never been around many children in his life. He lost his beloved wife, Adriane, a decade ago to an evil bout of breast cancer. They never had any children of their own, enjoying the simple life in the country with their animals and garden. He enjoyed the Wildner family and was thrilled when the only Wildner boy, Sam, took over cleaning up the place that had been a rental for years. He was thankful to have a good neighbor and even more grateful to have extra land to keep his livestock on. He enjoyed the trade-off of keeping up with the fence lines and bailing the tall grasses every year. Add to that a big, friendly dog named Bleu and he was content. The unexpectedness of a little girl pulling at his heartstrings took him by surprise.

  The three of them sat at his rickety kitchen table eating their sandwiches. Gwyneth took a big sip of milk and set the glass down, her upper lip traced with a noticeable milk mustache making John grin.

  “You want another sandwich?” he asked. She shook her head and continued to eat the one she had in front of her. “Well then, what do ya say we finish up here and head over to the garden to see if there’s anything left from the summer harvest?”

  “Can I call Sam?” Dylan interrupted.

/>   “Well, I don’t see why not.” He looked up at the ancient cuckoo clock nailed to his dingy wall. It was already two-thirty in the afternoon. He hoisted his big, lumberjack body out of the chair and picked up the receiver of the outdated princess phone sitting on the counter. Dialing Sam’s number, which he’d memorized over the years, he held the long phone cord in between his fingers. After three rings, Sam finally answered.

  “Hey, John. How are the kids?”

  “Hey there. We’re all good over here. Don’t you worry yourself. We petted some horses, ate some sandwiches and we’re about to go into the garden.”

  “I can’t thank you enough….”

  “Well, it’s the least I could do. You got some good kiddos here.” Dylan and GG smiled at each other over hearing John’s compliment. “Your nephew would like to speak to you.” He pulled the long, curly cord away from the counter, handing the phone out for Dylan to take.

  The two talked for a minute, the young boy anxious to know everyone was all right. When he seemed satisfied, he handed the phone back to John.

  “So they were wonderin’ when y’all are pickin’ them up.”

  Sam sighed into the receiver. “I’m at the hospital now with Casey. She’s having some X-rays done on her ankle to see if it’s broken. I really don’t know how long we’re going to be. I’ve got a call into my sister, Lisa, but she and her husband went away for the weekend while I kept Dylan and I can’t remember when their plane gets in. I’ll keep you posted.”

  Dylan started to tell GG a knock-knock joke, which gave John a moment to turn away from the table with his back to them and ask a serious question. “Can you fill me in on what happened at your place real quick?” he whispered. He could hear Sam sigh into the receiver.

  “John, it’s really bad. GG’s father murdered her mother today,” he said quietly.

  “What?” John’s heart fell into his stomach.

  “Yes. She was killed in her apartment and then he tracked Casey down at my place. He was desperate to see GG again. Somehow during a confrontation with him, Casey fell out of the loft and injured her ankle. The guy ended up turning the gun on himself. He’s dead, John. Gwyneth’s parents are both dead.”