The Shooting

by Chris Taylor

  “I’ll have a coffee, if you’re doing a run,” Brandon said.

  Clayton acknowledged Brandon with a nod. “Anyone else?”

  Tom looked around at the members of his family, who had gathered at the hospital en masse. Clayton’s wife, Ellie, also sat in the row of seats. His brother Declan had called from Canberra and Clayton’s twin, Riley, had called from work. He was the local area commander up in the country, six or seven hours’ drive away.

  Tom’s parents had also telephoned and expressed their concern. They’d given him their love and had asked him to pass it on to Lily. He was a little overwhelmed by the love and support of the Munro clan, but he was glad for it. He had no idea how Lily was faring and he was barely holding onto his panic. He needed all the support he could get.

  “Where are Cassie and Joe?” he asked in an effort to distract himself.

  “I called Alex and told her what was going on. She offered to go to their school and has taken them home,” Brandon replied. “She’ll stay with them until we know what’s going on.”

  Tom gave a brief nod of acknowledgement. “What did she tell them?”

  “Not much, just that there had been an accident and their mom had been taken to hospital. She thought that was for the best. No sense in worrying them unnecessarily. Besides, we don’t know much ourselves. There’s nothing any of us can do at the moment but wait.”

  “And pray,” Clayton murmured.

  Tom grimaced and once again, forced his panic down. Lily would be fine. She was in surgery right as they spoke. They were going to fix her, stop the bleeding and make her better. She was going to be fine.

  He looked around at Clayton and Ellie and Brandon. Knowing Brandon’s wife, Alex was with Tom’s kids, a sudden thought occurred to him. He turned to his family.

  “What about all your kids? Where are they?”

  “Sam’s going to a friend’s house straight after school and Bella and Justin are in day care,” Brandon offered. “It doesn’t close until six.”

  “What time is it now?” Tom asked.

  “A quarter to three,” Brandon said.

  “What about Olivia and the boys?” Tom directed his question to Clayton, but it was his wife who replied.

  “The older two are at school and Damon’s at my mother’s,” Ellie said. “She’ll collect Olivia and Mitchell from school in an hour or so. Don’t worry, they’ll be fine. We’re here for as long as you need us,” she reassured him.

  Tom breathed out a sigh of relief, grateful once again for the show of support. His family meant everything to him. Next to his wife and kids, they were the most important people in the world. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for them. It was comforting to know the feeling was reciprocated.

  “Mom called again while you were in the bathroom, Tom. She and Dad are taking the next flight out of Grafton. They should be here late this evening,” Brandon said.

  “They don’t have to—”

  “They know they don’t have to, Tom. They want to. Besides, you’ll need someone to help out with Cassie and Joe. They might be teenagers, but they still need someone at home, especially at a time like this. I figure you’re going to be here with Lily for the next few days, at least.”

  Tom sighed again and nodded. “You’re right. Thanks. I-I didn’t give it any thought. I want to be here when she gets out so I can get some answers from the doctors about her condition and the extent of her injuries. I want to be holding her hand when she wakes up and tells me hello.”

  For a brief moment his mind wandered in another direction… What if she didn’t make it out, what if the doctors had nothing to tell him other than they’d tried their best? What if he never heard her voice again? Christ, he wasn’t ready to go down that road.

  As if sensing his fragile emotions, Brandon stood and walked over to where Tom stood propped against the wall. He patted his brother on the shoulder.

  “It’s okay, mate. We understand. It wasn’t that long ago when I was sitting at Alex’s bedside.”

  Clayton listened and nodded, as if remembering. Tom compressed his lips. No one needed to be reminded of how serious it had been. Alex was also a police officer and had spent a week in the intensive care unit after being shot in the line of duty. For a while, they’d been scared she wouldn’t make it.

  “She’s going to be okay, Tom,” Brandon murmured, his voice firm with reassurance.

  Tom blinked back tears and nodded. “Yeah, of course she is.” The stress of the last few hours was taking its toll. A burning sensation radiated below his ribs on the left side near his sternum, up through his chest and down over his shoulder. He instinctively went to rub the area hoping it would bring him some relief. His hand brushed up against the lump below his left nipple.

  He’d found it more than a year ago and had managed to ignore it for just as long. Over the months, he’d made at least two doctor’s appointments, but hadn’t managed to keep either of them. Before he knew it, the anniversary of the day he’d discovered the lump came and went and he was reminded he still hadn’t done anything about it.

  After his father’s brush with death from a ruptured brain aneurysm last Christmas, Tom had finally resolved to do something about it, but he’d gotten busy at work and there was always something going on with the kids. Time slid by. More weeks went by before he finally made another appointment.

  It was scheduled for three days away. Yet again, it looked like another appointment would be missed. Now, it seemed so less important than being by his wife’s side. They’d known each other for more than seventeen years. A lifetime. And yet, it felt like it was only yesterday…

  CHAPTER THREE

  Seventeen years earlier

  It was late into the night and Tom was well into his cups. Despite being at a party, he was feeling a long way from cheerful. He’d been drinking steadily for the past few hours in an effort to obliterate his day. To call it shitty was putting it too mildly. He was twenty-two years old and a junior constable stationed in Sydney’s outer west, and even though he’d undergone rigorous training and numerous psychological tests while at the Academy, nothing had prepared him for the discovery of the bodies of the man and his three children in the garage attached to a lonely farmhouse on the edge of town.

  It was the kids who haunted him.

  Seven, three and six months old, they’d died of carbon monoxide poisoning. Their father lay slumped over the steering wheel of the family SUV. A bullet had ravished most of his head. What was left of his face was barely identifiable.

  To make matters worse, the late spring weather out west had been unseasonably hot and humid, reminding everyone summer wasn’t far away. The bodies of the father and his children were green and bloated and oozing putrid body fluids. The stench when Tom wrenched open the passenger door would stay with him forever. Later, the forensic pathologist who carried out the autopsies would estimate the deaths occurred up to three days earlier. It was the estranged wife of the man, the mother of the children, who’d finally alerted police.

  According to the officer who had interviewed the wife, she’d become concerned when her husband hadn’t returned the children after a scheduled access visit. She wasn’t immediately alarmed when she couldn’t reach him by phone. Cell phone coverage was sporadic at best at the farmhouse and he’d never given her any reason to panic.

  Knowing how it had all gone down, Tom shuddered and took another swig from the bottle of rum in his hand. He wondered a little dazedly when he’d made the switch from a glass. His mind was fuzzy, but still clear enough that he could see those poor children… According to his colleague, even the wife had been at a loss to explain.

  The front door of the apartment swung open and brought with it a gust of cool night air. Tom lifted his head and tried to focus on the newcomers. The party had been in full swing for hours. It was odd for a guest to be arriving so late. The host was Charlie Allen, a fellow officer from his station. They were celebrating the man’s recent promotion.


  It was then that he saw her.

  The noise from the music and the crowd of partygoers around him receded and there was nothing and nobody but her. She’d come in with another man and had her back to Tom while she hung up her jacket on the coat rack near the front door. Her long blond hair bounced off her shoulders in a silky wave that shimmered beneath the lights shining down from overhead. His fingers itched to touch its softness. She turned around and laughed at something the man she’d arrived with said and Tom’s breath caught.

  She was beautiful. No, she was more than beautiful. She was perfection. She was sunshine and laughter and sleepy Sunday mornings. She was quiet walks on the beach…

  She moved slightly and the glow from a nearby lamp caught the sheen of her skin. He sucked in another breath. She looked like fine spun crystal, delicate and ethereal. He could almost believe if he reached out and touched her she’d shatter, and yet he sensed a strength deep inside her that seemed to make a lie of his observations.

  All of this he managed to ascertain in a handful of seconds. He simply couldn’t drag his gaze away. He took a step toward her and then stumbled and reached out blindly for the wall.

  “Hey, Tom old boy, you might want to ease up on that stuff.” Lionel Skinner, a fellow officer who worked at the same station, laughed and thumped Tom on the back and then continued on his way.

  Tom took a moment to draw in a deep breath. He made an effort to steady the pounding of his heart. He looked back toward the front door, but the vision was gone. He blinked.

  Had he imagined her? Surely he wasn’t that drunk? She couldn’t have been a figment of his imagination. He was sure she’d been right there.

  With a surge of disappointment, he turned, almost convinced that in his inebriated state, his imagination had conjured her up. He lifted the bottle of rum to his lips and then lowered it without taking a drink. Lionel was right. He’d probably had enough. In fact, he probably should call it a night and head off home to bed. It was lucky he was rostered off the next day. No doubt he’d wake with a stinker of a headache.

  With a resigned shrug, he set the bottle of rum on a nearby table and looked around for his host. He’d find Charlie and make his farewells and then call a cab. He’d been stupid to think he could erase the horror of the day’s events with alcohol. Now, he’d pay the price.

  Shouldering his way through the crowd, he nodded good-byes and acknowledgements to his friends and colleagues. Most of the partygoers were police officers. They tended to socialize together. Not many people outside the force understood the kind of situations they were confronted with day in, day out, and somehow, it was easier to stick with your own people.

  None of his colleagues expected him to talk about his day, but if he volunteered information, there was always a sympathetic ear. He’d barely been out of the Academy two years, but already he’d learned there was plenty about the job that he just didn’t feel like talking about.

  He stumbled into the hall that led toward the other rooms in the house and continued in search of his host. He wondered again at the angel he’d spied at the front door. Frowning, he entered the kitchen.

  The full-throated sound of a woman’s laughter stirred something totally foreign and unexpected in his gut. He peered over the heads of a few partygoers that filled the modest space and headed in the direction of the sound. She was surrounded by male officers, all of them hanging off her every word. He couldn’t decipher her words, but it was obvious the men were enthralled—or maybe they were just enthralled with her. He could well understand their fascination.

  He pushed his way through the crowd until he’d joined the group that surrounded her. She leaned back against the kitchen counter, her eyes sparkling with good humor. Up close, she was even more beautiful. And young. She barely looked older than his twin brothers and Clayton and Riley were only seventeen.

  He narrowed his gaze and wondered who she was and what she was doing with such a dissolute group. Perhaps she was Charlie’s sister or the relative of one of the other guests? Or perhaps she was someone’s girlfriend? She’d arrived in the company of a man, after all.

  His mind shied away from the thought, not wanting to consider the possibility. He found a position with a clear view of her and leaned back against the wall.

  He let out a quiet sigh. It was late. He was tired. He’d had a shit of a day. A day he was glad to put behind him. Closing his eyes, he let the music of her voice wash over him.

  * * *

  Lily Strickland looked up from the group of men who surrounded her and noticed the good-looking stranger saunter near. She’d noticed him earlier, when she’d first arrived with David, but she hadn’t had a chance to enquire about him. Now he was standing less than three yards away and her heart skipped a beat.

  Aware of the men around her eagerly waiting for her to finish her story, she took a breath and forced herself to concentrate. From the corner of her eye, she saw the tall stranger get comfortable against the wall. A moment later, he closed his eyes and appeared to drift off to sleep. Right beneath her nose.

  She frowned in consternation. She wasn’t used to being ignored. Surely, he wasn’t really asleep?

  And then she heard it. A snore. Soft and muffled and utterly gentlemanlike, but a snore just the same. She halted mid-sentence and stared at him, completely taken aback. He looked like a Greek God, an Adonis with his dark blond hair, thick and mussed. A sun-bleached hank of it hung over his forehead and partially obscured his eyes—eyes, she recalled from moments ago, that were as blue as the summer sky.

  She’d lost herself in their depths for the few seconds he’d stared at her and her breath had caught from their impact. And then he’d frowned and squinted, as if trying to bring her into focus and the moment had been lost. But not the memory.

  Never in her nineteen years had a man stirred her like he had and they hadn’t even exchanged so much as a greeting. How could that be possible? This wasn’t a Hollywood chick flick where the girl saw the guy and the cameras slowed and the music built and the girl fell instantly and deeply in love. That kind of idiocy only happened in the movies, not in real life. Never in real life.

  And yet, she couldn’t deny that he’d triggered something way down deep inside her and she yearned to know more about the handsome stranger who’d captured her attention like no other. Except now, the man in question was snoring.

  It would be a little damaging to any girl’s ego and she had to admit, she was slightly miffed. While the men around her hung on her every word, the only one that interested her was sleeping in the corner. She smiled wryly, in good humor. The scenario was more than a little bit comical.

  Vowing to forget about him like he’d evidently forgotten about her, she turned back to the men she’d been entertaining with an amusing tale from a day in the life of a college student and continued on with her story. She was about to deliver the punch line when there was the sound of a thud, and a grunt, followed quickly by a curse.

  “Fuck!”

  The men around Lily turned in unison and stared at the man on the floor. A chuckle built up in Lily’s chest and burst out before she could stop it. She laughed and gasped and held her hand over her mouth in an effort to contain her mirth. The stranger stared balefully up at her from his place on the hard floor. His eyes narrowed dangerously.

  Lily should have taken his dark look as her cue to stop, but her laughter continued to sound. He looked so surprised to find himself flat on his butt on the floor. Now, she simply had to know who he was.

  * * *

  Tom heaved himself up off the floor and surreptitiously rubbed his sore ass. One minute he’d been listening to the angel regale the men near her with tales of college shenanigans and the next he was coming into contact with the very hard, wooden floor. The least Charlie could have done was find an apartment that had carpet. Tom’s bum would be bruised for a week.

  Not that anyone cared, from the looks of amusement on their faces. Even the angel thought it was funny. In fa
ct, from the way she was splitting her sides laughing, she found it downright hysterical.

  He shot her an intimidating look that would make most people go weak with fear, but it didn’t have the same effect on her. She looked like she had no intention of stopping. How could he have found her so desirable? She was a heartless, little witch. At last, Charlie appeared in the doorway, looking concerned.

  “Tom, are you all right? What happened? Someone said you fell over. Did you hurt yourself?”

  Knowing the angel could hear every word that was said and not wanting to embarrass himself further, Tom shrugged his shoulders in response and remained silent. If he were honest, his pride was damaged far worse than his ass.

  Had he really fallen asleep? Christ, he must have been more exhausted than he’d thought. He was at a party and he’d fallen asleep, right after locking eyes with the most beautiful girl in the world. And now she was laughing at him.

  He snuck another glance in her direction and was relieved to find she’d sobered and was looking suitably concerned. She pushed her way through the crowd of men and came up to Tom with her hand extended.

  It was pale and slender and her fingers were long. It was all Tom had time to comprehend before her soft, slim hand was in his. Her handshake was firm and sure and reminded him of the hidden strength he’d sensed in her earlier. She was made of sterner stuff than she looked. Her eyes, a bright, clear blue now sparkled with intelligence tinged with humor.

  “Lily Strickland. Nice to meet you.”

  “T-Tom. Tom Munro. It’s… It’s nice to meet you, too.”

  “Really? A moment ago you were snoring. I was sure I’d bored you to sleep.” She grinned and then offered him a wink.

  A fresh wave of embarrassment swept over his cheeks, but her teasing went right through him. It unsettled his gut and suddenly it felt like a swarm of butterflies had been let loose inside him. He swallowed and tried to get his tongue to work so he would appear somewhat in control of his faculties. At the same time, he silently cursed the rum that clouded his brain.