“And it was her idea to begin with, not mine,” she said now, pointing at Ashlyn.
“He’s there!” Ashlyn grabbed at her cheeks. “He’s right here. I told you!”
Tim pivoted to look in the direction Ashlyn pointed in, dragging me to spin too. From a too-low and crooked viewpoint, I was craned to face toward the street. The Vette, well, Vette Number Two, was parked across the street like it’d been slammed to a stop. The driver’s door hung open and the interior light blinked a tiny beacon of brightness from the dark.
“That’s not his car, Ash,” Tim drawled like he’d said it hundreds of time.
“But it’s him!” she screeched as Jackson did indeed walk up from the road and onto their driveway. The serious expression on his pale face belied being caught unaware of Tim possessing a gun and pointing it at me.
“It can’t be,” Tim insisted.
“Put the gun down,” Jackson said, fear not masked in his voice.
Yeah, buddy, I wanted to scream as he met my eyes. This was what I wanted to tell you…
“You’re dead,” Tim said.
“He’s not dead if he’s standing right there,” Meg nearly hollered. “Put the gun down, now. No more killing stuff!”
His fingers still crunched a fistful of my hair, but Tim raised the gun. “If you weren’t dead before, you are now.” A round was shot, so damn loud next to my head.
“Tim!”
I thought I heard Meg scream it after the gunshot. Ashlyn’s wails might have been in the background there too. How would I know? I’d never been near a gun being fired before, and it was damn loud. Don’t quote me on volume and such, but it felt loud down to my bones.
Jackson fell down to his knees, his arms clutching his curled-over body as he crumpled forward.
No!
I gasped and held the breath in my lungs. Never mind the gun being loud. My pulse hammered a war beat through my head, dulling my senses.
I knew it. I knew this was coming. This stupid, idiotic bully!
One hand was in my hair, resisting Tim’s grip, but I brought my free hand up to smack at his arm still in the air. He cursed as he released me, stumbling to the side a step.
I wanted to kill him. Squeeze his throat. Kick his face in. Murderous, dark, evil desires snaked into my mind. Common sense rang clear through the muddiness of my rage. A threat would do that.
Tim backed up from my strike, holding the gun at my chest now. “I told you. I told you I wasn’t going down for this!”
I stalked toward him, wanting to laugh and cry at the irony. “He was alive, you imbecile! Jackson didn’t drown, and you just shot him.”
“Tim, put that thing down, now,” Meg cried from behind us. “What is wrong with you?”
He didn’t have a chance to maniacally refuse. Someone else spoke instead.
“Tim, lower your weapon.”
Recognizing the voice, I took the chance to turn around.
Bill. He was here! With his gun up and aimed at Tim.
Finally.
Bill neared us with slow, steady steps. “It’s over, buddy. Just lower the gun, all right?”
Tim brought his free hand up to the gun and held it steadier. “I’m not—”
Hearing one gunshot should have prepared me for the jumping shock of another report. Maybe it was too fresh of a memory for me. I wasn’t too frozen or stunned to be disobedient though, because Bill rushed for us, yelling at me, “Please get back, Renee.”
He’d shot Tim. Defended me. Sweet Mother of Mary, I knew I could count on one person in this town. Of course, what Bill had come upon hadn’t been a my-word-versus-his-word thing. Tim’s gun aimed at my face sealed his deal.
“Renee?”
I turned toward the source of that call for plea. Jackson! He was still speaking? I knew squat about first aid, but until backup came…
“Jackson?” I asked as I fell to kneel next to him.
“Help me…”
Oh, dammit. I knew I should have paid more attention to that CPR video in Health class. That was the extremes of my first aid know-how.
“Help…” He struggled to sit up.
“Uh, stay down.” Right. If he was shot in the gut, he shouldn’t be doing crunches to get up?
“Help…me…get…this off.”
Get what off?
It was then that I realized he was lifting his shirt up. I flinched back, not exactly eager to see the blood and guts and—
Gray lining?
“What is that?” I demanded and yanked the shirt up. I could see the bullet, all right. But it hadn’t pierced his stomach. Instead, it was embedded in a padded layer of… Huh?
“I took my uncle’s Kevlar vest. From when…he…was a cop. Before he started drinking too much and had to quit.” He grimaced as I helped him to sit up.
“How’d you know he’d have a gun?”
Despite the stress of the night and the pain of being shot, he smirked. “His dad’s a gun fanatic. Hosts NRA meetings at the town hall…?”
Okay. He had a point. Guess those details were things guys focused on more than a girl like me ever would.
He winced as he said, “I took a guess and ruled on the margin of error.”
I sighed and let myself sink forward. I helped him pull the vest off and gasped at the angry red mark where he’d been hit, underneath the armor. Around us, more commotion sounded. I saw Nathan and another police officer had arrived and were talking to Meg and Mrs. Renard, who’d come outside. Another officer spoke with Ashlyn, who was teary-eyed and for once not sweet talking to get her way with authority. On the grass, Tim lifted his hand as Bill pressed a bandage to his opposite shoulder.
“You were trying to warn me he’d shoot, weren’t you?” Jackson asked me. “Dammit, Renee. I knew I was risking myself in this, but I’d never thought you would be tied into this! How’d you know?”
“Because everything…backfired.”
I sat there with him as we waited for more help to arrive, in case his injuries were more major than they seemed. While we waited, I told him everything as quickly as I could. The others—Meg and Ashlyn—were handcuffed. Since Tim was injured, he was heading for medical help first. “So when Tim grabbed me and got a hold of my backpack, he had that letter I’d written to Officer—”
“Which was how I even knew to come here,” Bill said as he interrupted my tale. “I had your bag from school and told your principal I’d bring it to you at your home, where I couldn’t find you. I checked inside, and lo and behold, a letter to me.”
“Finders keepers,” I said weakly.
“Renee,” Bill said as he lowered to his haunches next to us, “for God’s sake, why didn’t you just tell me earlier? Called 911?”
“No one would have believed her,” Jackson filled in.
Bill shook his head slowly as he eyed his coworkers. “I don’t know what I was thinking starting my career in a small town like this. Maybe I should take that transfer opportunity…”
“Why did you come here?” I asked. I, well, Jackson and I, spent so much time preparing to leave this place with its small-minded citizens and limited opportunities. I couldn’t understand the appeal in coming here.
The officer sighed. “I thought there would be less crime in a little place like this.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. Around Founder’s Day, there always seemed to be more, but Crimson Falls wasn’t that deadly at most of the other times of the years. “Crime? I thought they were calling it a ‘prank.’”
Bill snorted. “I’ve had enough of those, too.”
Me, too, Officer.
Me, too.
THANK YOU!
Thank you for reading my story. I would love to hear your thoughts about Renee. Please consider leaving a review!
THE CRIMSON FALLS NOVELLA SERIES
READ ALL EIGHT:
Original Sin by Greta Cribbs
The Last Dupont by Rachel Renee
All the Dark Corners by Emerald O'Brien
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Flawed Plan by Amabel Daniels
Returned Home by Julie Strier
Sight in the Dark by AM Ialacci
The Stranger in the Woods by Kiersten Modglin
Little Girl Lost by Laurèn Lee
Join the Crimson Falls Reader Group on Facebook for more behind the scenes details, exclusive information, and a community to discuss all the novellas in: https://www.facebook.com/groups/CrimsonFallsReaderGroup/
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I owe many thanks to my family and friends for their constant encouragement to listen to my characters’ voices and keep writing.
For editing, I thank Expression Editing, and C.J. Pinard at www.cjpinard.com. For the cover design, I thank Alora Kate at Cover Kraze.
This story wouldn’t exist without the mastermind creative geniuses of the Crimson Falls group. Emerald, Kiersten, Julie, Rachel, Anna, Lauren, and Greta, it’s been a fun and exciting adventure crafting our wicked little town. I’m proud to call you my friends and I will always appreciate your help and excellent ideas.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Amabel Daniels lives in Northwest Ohio with her patient husband, three adventurous girls, and a collection of too many cats and dogs. Although she holds a Master’s degree in Ecology, her true love is finding a good book. When she isn’t spending time outdoors, or wondering how to negotiate with her mightily independent daughters, she’s busy brewing up her next novel, usually as she lets her mind run off with the addictive words of “what if…”
For more information about Amabel’s work, please stop by www.amabeldaniels.com.
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ALSO BY AMABEL DANIELS
Better Than the Best
Appetite of Envy
Resisting Redemption
Covert Identities
Don’t Go Back
Indeed
Across From You
Always Was
Flawed Plan (A Crimson Falls Novella) Page 9
