Why Not? (Love Riddles Book 3)

by Carey Heywood

  Then I run, at my back I hear her scream again and another gunshot.

  Walt is at my heels, pulling open the passenger door of the cruiser as I hop in the driver’s. His door is still open as I peel out.

  “Don’t lose your head man,” he cautions.

  “Someone is fucking shooting at Reilly,” I growl.

  “Fuck,” is all he says.

  Switching on the lights and siren, I race through town. That was live. Who knows how many people are watching right now. Hell, my mom is probably streaming it on her computer right now.

  “She better be okay,” I say to no one.

  “She will be,” Walt replies.

  My heart hammers in my chest. My vision goes tunnel. There’s a Buick in front of us that’s taking its sweet ass time pulling over. I lay my hand on the horn.

  “Move fucker,” I shout.

  “Trip,” Walt warns.

  “Someone’s shooting at her,” I repeat unable to think of anything else, playing her scream over and over in my mind. “Get on the radio. Find out if the camera and audio is still live, and see if we can get anyone from the news station on the phone.”

  “On it,” he replies before contacting dispatch.

  “This is a surprise,” I say, leaning across the counter to offer Heath a kiss.

  “Our meeting wrapped up early so I was able to get away for lunch,” he replies after kissing me.

  “Awesome. What can I get for you?” I ask.

  Before he can order, I hear the music we normally have playing go quiet. We’ve gotten in the habit of muting it whenever my reporter friend Reilly is on TV.

  “A grilled chicken club,” Heath replies.

  He sits while I go place his order. We’re our normal busy but not slammed today at Lola’s.

  This means I have time to hang with my fella and watch Reilly’s segment when I finish placing his order. We found out about her pregnancy before most of Ferncliff.

  It’s been fun to watch her daily now that her pregnancy is visible. She has the cutest little baby bump. Reilly’s like a little sister to Heath, so watching him experience her pregnancy has been fun too.

  I’m so happy things are working out with Trip and Reilly. It’d be impossible not to have a soft spot for the guy who saved my life.

  She looks especially adorable today in her yellow tank dress over a white button up dress shirt. Her chocolate brown hair is longer now, swinging just past her shoulders.

  Glancing down, I start refilling a napkin holder when Heath murmurs, “That’s strange.”

  My eyes move to him and then follow his gaze back to the TV. Tilting my head, I silently agree. Both Reilly and the woman she’s interviewing are looking off screen. I’ve never seen her do that in an interview before.

  Diners are normally noisy. There are conversations going at each booth. Not now, the quiet is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced here. Every eye is on the TV.

  Something is wrong. The woman Reilly’s interviewing, presses her hand to her chest.

  My hands leave the napkins and grip the edge of the counter my focus glued to the screen.

  Heath slides off his stool and slowly moves toward the TV.

  “Gav, no!” Reilly shrieks before we all hear a gunshot.

  There are gasps all around me as I say, “Oh my God.”

  The camera falls and all that comes into view are Reilly’s feet and the flowers she was only seconds ago talking about.

  Heath turns, his eyes locking on mine. He holds my eyes for only a moment. A second, maybe less, and I know he’s going to her.

  I can’t tell him to stop or not to go or even to be careful or that I love him before he turns to the entrance and runs, pushing the door open as he dashes to his car. Pressing my palms together, I lift my hands up until the tips of my index fingers rest against my lips.

  Then I hear her scream.

  George passes me another plank. Tilting it, I feed the tongue into the grove before I flatten it. Taking the plastic knock plate, I rest it on the outside edge and hit it with my mallet until the seam between the plank I just laid and the line of flooring before it tightens.

  I’m reaching for the next plank when my cell starts buzzing. Ignoring it, I keep working. During projects, there are plenty of things that will interrupt us. Right now, we’re in the zone and making actual progress. If George and I keep up this pace, we may have the bulk of this floor down before we quit for the day.

  My phone dings to notify me that whoever called left a voicemail I ignore that as well. I’ll check it when we take a break. If I stopped whenever I got a call, my guys would think it was cool to do the same.

  George is passing me another plank when my phone starts going again.

  A splinter of unease pricks my mind that another call would come so soon after the first. This time there’s no ding of a new message.

  With each strike of my mallet, I listen for my phone to start again. It does, this time an incoming text instead of a call.

  That prick of unease spreads. George moves to pass me another plank.

  I motion for him to wait and reach for my phone to read the text.

  It’s from Sydney and says—Jake call me back now. 911.

  “Fuck,” I mutter before my thumb moves over the screen to call her.

  I’m on my feet when she answers with a freaked, “Jake. Something’s happened to Reilly.”

  “What happened?” I snap, reaching down to pull off my kneepads.

  “She was interviewing someone and someone started shooting at them,” Sydney shrieks.

  Shock freezes me mid-step. After a pause, when my foot reconnects with the ground, it’s as if it has all my weight behind it making me stumble.

  “Is she okay?” I ask, the words pulled from a well, the bucket scratching my throat.

  “I don’t know, Jake. She was live on TV, but then it went back to the anchor desk.”

  “Where was she?” I ask halfway out the door, George at my heels.

  “I’m not sure. There were flowers,” she replies.

  “I gotta go,” I growl, not waiting for her before I end the call.

  “Jake is everything okay?” George asks.

  I shake my head, my eyes on my phone as I pull up the direct number to the news station. It’s busy.

  “Can I do anything?” he asks.

  Looking up from my phone, I reply, “Pray.”

  His mouth falls open as I look back at my phone and call Trip.

  It rings and rings before going to voicemail.

  “Fuck,” I shout and head for my truck.

  They might not be answering at the station, but they’ll have to talk to me if I go there.

  Not giving one fuck that I shouldn’t be on my phone while I drive, I try to call Kacey.

  “Is Reilly okay?” Is her answer.

  “You’ve heard,” I reply, flying through a yellow light. “I’m driving to the station now.”

  “Promise you’ll be safe,” she breathes.

  “Is that where she was?” I guess.

  “Yes, in the back courtyard,” Kacey replies.

  The sound of sirens fill the air.

  “I love you,” I manage before ending our call, my focus now on them and getting to Reilly.

  There’s a police cruiser parked at an angle blocking the entrance to the news station. Pulling off into the gravel on the side on the road, I park. Opening my door, I jerk at the pop pop pop of gunfire.

  My mind is on one thing and one thing only—Reilly. I need to get to her, find her, help her, save her.

  The wail of more sirens join the chorus of the one blocking the entrance. The strobe of red and blue lights assault my vision. I focus on the ground, one foot in front of the other.

  People, who I recognize as Reilly’s coworkers, begin to stream out the side door and into the parking lot. Some move right to their cars as others wait in huddles.

  Julie, Reilly’s old roommate, runs to me. “Jake. Tad shot Reilly. Th
ey’re still back there,” she cries.

  No.

  My little sister shot.

  No. I shake my head. No. She can’t be. No. She’s going to have a baby. No. My happy full of life baby sister.

  No.

  When I move to go past her, she stops me. “He has a gun and is shooting people. You can’t go back there.”

  “I have to,” I reply, pushing past her.

  The blood in my veins turns to ice when I hear two more shots.

  “Gav, no!” I cry, lurching in my chair.

  He doesn’t listen. No, he turns away from the tripod holding his camera and steps in front of Tad. He does this, even though Tad has a gun in his hand.

  Without warning, Tad shoots. I scream as Gav falls back, knocking over the camera. Scrambling out of my chair, I try to move behind it, my eyes focused on Gavin’s still form. My movements are hampered by the bouquets of flowers that, only moments ago, Leah and I were discussing. Tulips, roses, and carnations fall around me, the water from their vases soaking into the earth. My instincts tell me to move away from him, but I can’t just leave Gavin lying there.

  I round the chair, and take a step towards Gav.

  Lifting his gun, Tad sneers at me. “So you’re going to marry him.”

  “Please just let me check on Gavin,” I plead.

  He’s insane but hopefully he doesn’t actually want to kill anyone.

  He ignores me altogether. “I heard you talking to Gavin this morning. I heard you tell him you’re going to ask that cop to marry you.”

  Oh my God. This morning, while Gavin let me sniff his coffee I did, I told him that I was tired of waiting for Trip to bring the marriage discussion back up, so I was going to propose to him myself.

  Gav had laughed, thinking it was funny that I’d propose to big ol macho Trip. He had congratulated me in advance because he was sure Trip would say yes and he had asked if he could come with us to Vegas if we decided to elope. That was less than three hours ago, and now he’s lying on the ground, shot.

  Tad doesn’t wait for me to respond. “It was bad enough when he got you like that.”

  He aims his gun down and to my belly. “Making me have to wait until that baby was gone for us to be together.”

  “What?” I gasp, my hands going to my stomach as if I could shield my baby from him.

  “You didn’t listen to me. You didn’t ask him about his brother, did you?”

  Leah whimpers, drawing our attention.

  “Shut up,” Tad growls before aiming his gun at her and pulling the trigger.

  She crumples to the ground as I shriek in terror. What the fuck? He’s going to kill me. Holy shit, he’s going to kill me. As hard as I try not to, I begin to tremble.

  He turns his attention back to me. “You aren’t marrying him.”

  “What do you want from me?” I ask, my voice shaking.

  “You’re coming with me,” he replies, taking a step toward me.

  I step back, my heel hitting the ground wrong and tipping to one side, my ankle twisting.

  My hands fly out to either side as I catch my balance. I can’t fall down. If I do, I’ll have no hope of escaping him.

  I inch further away from him, flinching when my weight shifts onto my ankle. “Why, Tad? Why are you doing this?”

  “It’s supposed to be you and me,” he whispers.

  A siren wails in the distance, the sound of it growing louder with each breath of air that passes my lips.

  Tad’s eyes, ones I had once considered worldly and sophisticated, widen.

  The side entrance to the station opens. The door moves wide enough for me to see Julie’s face. All I can think of is something happening to her and Dylan losing his mom. No, I mouth. Tad’s head whips around as he shoots wildly at the door.

  “Stop it,” I scream. “Stop shooting at people.”

  He lowers his gun to his side and looks at me in confusion. “I’m doing this for you.”

  “You’re insane,” I breathe, one hand dropping to rest on my rounded belly.

  He shakes his head. “Don’t say that, Reilly. You know it’s not true.”

  “You shot Gavin and Leah!” I shout.

  His head jerks back. “They were in the way.”

  “We aren’t together. We aren’t ever going to be together,” I hiss.

  “That’s not true,” he murmurs, more to himself than me.

  “It is true,” I reply, moving further backward and behind Leah’s chair.

  “No, you liked me, and we were going to be together.” To himself he mutters, “But that cop pulled you away.”

  Not sure what else to say, I decide to try and reason with him. “Tad, we need to get help for Gavin and Leah. Please put down the gun so we can get help for them.”

  He shakes his head. “You’re trying to trick me.”

  I lift my hand placatingly. “I’m not. I’m not. I only want to get help for them and for no one else to get hurt.”

  “Come with me right now, and no one else will be hurt,” he counters.

  My already pounding heart begins to stutter. “Promise. Promise you won’t hurt anyone else?”

  He nods.

  “Or my baby,” I add.

  His lip curls and I know, I know he’ll never let Trip and my baby live.

  “We’ll see,” he lies.

  There’s a screech as a car pulls into the side lot.

  Seconds later, over a loud speaker I hear Walt, Trip’s partner say, “Drop your weapon then put your hands in the air.”

  “Get over here,” Tad hisses at me, his eyes wild as they move from me to the lot and back again.

  I shake my head.

  His lips form a straight line before he says, “If I can’t have you, neither can he,” before leveling his gun back on me.

  My mouth falls open as I silently scream. Catching both of us off guard, Gavin leaps to his feet, launching himself at Tad. Tad shoots, the bullet meant for me going wide and above my head. He recovers quickly though, pulling his gun close and pressing the barrel to Gavin’s side.

  “No,” I scream, stepping toward them as Tad pulls the trigger.

  Gavin’s eyes find mine, fear and love all I can see in them. Tad releases him. For one heartbreaking second, he stands there. Then he falls backward, hitting the ground with a sickening thud.

  Another shot breaks through the sound of my cries and thundering heart. This shot was not from Tad’s gun. No, this shot was from Trip’s.

  I don’t watch Tad’s gun slip from his hands or him fall to the ground.

  No, I throw myself at Gavin, my hands trying in vein to staunch the flow of blood from his side. He’s limp.

  “Gavin, honey please. Stay with me. Please stay with me.”

  Blood flows between my fingers. In vain, I cover one hand with my other.

  Two hands reach under my armpits to pull me up and away from Gavin. “He’s gone, Reilly. He’s gone.”

  Trip turns me, spinning me until my front is flush to his.

  “He can’t be,” I argue, fisting his shirt.

  He ignores my bloodied hands and coaxes my head to his chest. “I’m so sorry, Reilly.”

  “Reilly,” Jake’s shout carries from the parking lot.

  While Trip holds me, more police officers arrive and are already processing the scene, doing their best to keep people back. A cloth is laid over both Leah and Gavin.

  An officer tries to stop Jake from coming to me, but Trip motions for him to let him pass.

  Stepping out of Trip’s embrace, I all but fall into Jake’s arms as soon as he’s near.

  “Reilly, are you okay?”

  “I am, but Ga-Ga-Gav,” I can’t even finish my sentence, each intake of air hitching.

  “He saved her life,” Trip murmurs not to me but to Jake. “Tad was going to shoot her and he stopped him.”

  Jake looks down at me, his eyes wet as he cups the back of my head. “Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

  I hav
e no response. My mind is a jumble. I went from being happy and talking about flowers, to watching my friend die.

  Jake releases me back to Trip. Walt, and the other officers who are there, work around us. Not one of them approaches us, or asks Trip to leave me.

  Today, three people have died and an officer’s woman was almost the fourth. They get that Trip and I need each other right now. His strength, his solid mass of support, is the only thing that is keeping me upright at the moment.

  “Let’s get you cleaned up,” he says, leading me toward the side door of the station.

  I take one step on my twisted ankle and buckle. This whole time I’ve been standing with all my weight on my other foot and hadn’t even realized it. Trip catches me, swooping me up and into his arms.

  “Do you feel faint?” he asks.

  I shake my head. “Earlier, I hurt my ankle.”

  He changes direction, taking me to one of Ferncliff’s two ambulances.

  “Everything okay?” Bert Knight asks, jogging out to meet us.

  His dad was my elementary PE teacher, and I babysat for Bert when I was in high school.

  Why couldn’t he have been here sooner? Why couldn’t he have saved Gav?

  “She did something to her ankle,” Trip replies.

  Bert motions for him to set me down on the ground. He does, sitting with me still in his arms. Blinking, I watch people move in and out of the station as Bert eases my shoes off.

  “Ow,” I gasp as Bert moves my foot.

  “It doesn’t appear to be broken but only an x-ray will confirm that,” he murmurs.

  “Should we go to the emergency room?” Trip asks.

  “Not a bad idea,” Bert replies, and then gestures over his shoulder to the ambulance. “Need a ride?”

  Trip shakes his head and stands, taking me with him. “I can drive her. Thanks.”

  Bert shrugs and Trip carries me away, back toward where it happened.

  Freaking, I start to struggle in Trip’s arms. He instantly gets it and carries me back to the parking lot. Jake, Kacey, Heath, Sydney, Julie, and Stan all meet us out there.

  They surround us, all talking and hugging me at the same time. They ignore the blood on my hands. They don’t even seem bothered by it. I’m alive and it’s not my blood, so it’s cool.